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sluttywoozi · 1 year

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Out Of The Woods | Part 1 of 3

Summary: You’ve been driving Yunho nuts lately and he just can’t figure out why. He hates being annoyed with his friends, so he’s been avoiding you. It’s difficult to stay away when you’re locked together in a cabin with seven of your closest friends, though.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2k

Tags: rom com, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, fluff, comedy (i think im funny)

Warnings: sexual thoughts, yunho gets a splinter, alcohol, lmk if i forgot anything

Reader Notes: smaller than yunho (in the hands at least), has breasts and a vagina

“Yunho, you don’t have to sleep so far away. It’s not like we’ve never touched before,” you huff, reaching out across the bed and curling your fingers in his shirt to tug him closer.

He follows your pull, shuffling over just a few inches and pretending to be too distracted taking in the room to look at you. It was a lot easier to avoid your gaze when there were seven other people in the room. Now that it’s just the two of you, Yunho is running out of options.

Lately, you've been driving Yunho crazy.

It’s very out of character for him to be annoyed by one of his friends and the last thing he wants to do is take it out on you, so he’s been avoiding you. And Mingi, of course, noticed and told everyone else, leading to them all competing to see who can put him in the most uncomfortable situations with you.

This came at the very unfortunate time of the annual Best Friends Trip, this time at a literal cabin in the woods. Because what could go wrong there?

On the way up to the cabin, Mingi conveniently 'forgot' he had some extra errands to run before departing and decided to ride with San and Wooyoung instead, leaving you and Yunho to drive up alone. It was three straight hours of uncomfortable silence and him trying to figure out why the scent of your shampoo made him dizzy.

When the time came to gather firewood, Jongho (who'd lost rock paper scissors) insisted he’d rolled his ankle and couldn’t traverse the uneven ground, but oh Y/n, didn’t you say you wanted to take a walk before settling in?

Yunho said he could take care of it alone but the guys wouldn’t hear it, claimed you never know what’s lurking in the forest and that the buddy system is key, so he’d trudged into the woods with you by his side and pretended he didn’t see the sparkle of traitorous glee in Jongho’s eyes. What followed was another hour of tension, of you trying to chat and Yunho responding politely but not helpfully, his annoyance only growing when the exasperated sigh you let out sent heat flashing down his throat.

You took some space from him when you got back, throwing him a confused glare before going to help Seonghwa prepare hot chocolate. He’d tried to be nicer after that, act more like himself, but he could tell you still felt the distance he kept. It didn’t help that his shoulders wound tighter and tighter with each burst of laughter that escaped the kitchen, evil thoughts of hiding the final piece of all of Seonghwa’s new lego sets flooding his mind.

Yunho knew he could never do such a thing but the thought made his stomach churn with guilt, so he busied himself with chopping firewood until the sun faded behind the trees, ignoring calls of hot chocolate and invitations to games and shouts about room dividing.

You’d all been gathered up around the fireplace when he decided he’d punished himself enough and went back inside. Yeosang’s half-lidded eyes and red cheeks told him the liquor had come into play but he still nodded as if he couldn’t tell and smiled when Joong shouted that they’d moved onto spiked hot chocolate, demanding he grab a mug.

Yunho’s far from a lightweight but the extra exercise and the stress of the day let the peppermint schnapps hit him a bit harder. After one cup, he could feel the back of his neck grow warm and his sharp edges start to blur out. After two, he felt relaxed enough to look at you again and turned his head in search of you, only to find you snuggled up to a smirking Mingi. He couldn’t stop the way his eyes narrowed and his heartbeat picked up, no matter how well he knew Mingi would never-

Wait. Mingi would never… what?

Yunho didn’t have a chance to follow that train of thought as Seonghwa suddenly stood up and clapped his hands, announcing it was time for bed. He recruited Mingi and San to help him get a dozing Hongjoong up the stairs, all three boys cautiously guiding him up every step. Yeosang took up the rear and Wooyoung trailed behind, pouty and petulant because Seonghwa hadn’t asked him to help too. Yunho watched you follow them with fondness in his eyes, the irritation he’d grown used to feeling around you suspiciously absent, and decided he might as well go to bed too if everyone else is.

He’d arrived at the top of the stairs just as the bedroom doors were being pulled shut. Yeosang and Seonghwa disappeared behind one door with matching evil grins and a sleeping Hongjoong between them, and he heard Wooyoung and San bickering about who had to sleep closer to the door in another room, so he turned to the remaining bedroom with a sigh, resigning himself to a night of Mingi’s snoring and no sleep.

Except it wasn’t Mingi’s bag on the bed. It wasn’t Mingi’s phone plugged into the wall, or Mingi’s voice resonating in the shower, or Mingi’s pajamas laid out on the chair. No, they were all yours, and Yunho felt the headache start to pound behind his eyes as his former best friend clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I’m taking the couch tonight, we all agreed earlier.”

“I didn’t agree,” Yunho whispered frantically, clutching the neck of Mingi’s sleep shirt with desperate fingers.

“We tried to ask what you wanted but you just grunted and kept chopping wood, so…” Mingi trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders, calling out a teasing ‘goodnight, sleep tight’ as he trudged down the stairs.

The bathroom door opened before he could protest any further, the steam billowing out around your toweled form clogging his throat up. He barely managed a nod when you assured him you’d left plenty of hot water, and, in somewhat of a daze, stumbled across the wooden floors to take a shower of his own.

Yunho thought the water would clear his head but it just made everything feel hazier, his thoughts tangling with images of your dewy skin and replays of the drop of water that fell from your hair and rolled over your collarbone before dipping down between your breasts.

That wasn't the first time he’d thought about you like this, but it was the first time he’d ever realized how annoyed it made him. He could feel the blood draining from his face as he finally figured out why exactly you’ve been driving him up the wall lately.

It honestly made him feel bad that he’d been so off with you just because you make his heart race, especially considering it’s not something you can change or something you’re doing on purpose. Sure, he didn't know that's why he's been so irked by you, but that doesn't mean he should have blindly taken it out on you in the first place.

And now here Yunho is, barely a foot away from you in a bed that was not meant for two, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes stubbornly avoiding yours. Everything is worse now that he knows he's into you, his frustration blurring into longing and his irritation melting into desire. You're so close and so warm and all Yunho wants to do is pull you even closer, and that's why as soon as you fall asleep, he shuffles away.

He can't afford to touch you any more than necessary if he wants to keep his feelings in check and the friend group together.

All of Yunho's efforts fly out the window when he wakes up with you burrowed in his arms and his hard cock pressing into your ass.The temperature must have dropped overnight, the tiny shivers of your body making him pull you close while also trying desperately to angle his hips away from you. The slight loss of body heat stirs you and Yunho holds his breath, praying you don't wake up before his hard on has gone down.

Thinking about all the ways he can get Mingi back for putting him in this position helps. He doesn't have anything too devious in mind, just changing his Crunchyroll password so Mingi can't use it anymore and also perhaps spoiling the end of the new drama he'd been watching. Nothing too evil.

Yunho doesn't even feel himself falling back asleep until it's too late, his eyes slipping closed and his arms tugging you closer, the progress he'd made earlier disappearing. He buries his face in your neck and lets his body sink into yours with a sigh, deciding that whatever happens when he wakes again is a problem for future Yunho.

It turns out future Yunho doesn't have a problem, because you're gone when he blinks awake. The bed is cold without you, his arms empty, and he can't help the frown that pulls down his eyebrows when he sees your pajamas folded up neatly atop your overnight bag.

You must have gotten up a while ago, and as Yunho slowly comes back online, sounds start to drift up the stairs from what can only be the kitchen. The clacking of pots and pans is loud even with the door closed, as is the sound of a heated debate between Wooyoung and San about whether pancakes or waffles make a better vessel for syrup.

The answer is obviously waffles but Yunho's not about to say he's on Wooyoung's side, especially not when he knows San will get pouty and Woo will get clingy. He's got enough to deal with just trying to navigate what he now knows are feelings for you.

Yunho rolls out of bed and immediately reaches his arms above his head in a stretch, groaning as his spine elongates and starts to ache from the hard mattress. He's hoping he can get Hongjoong to step on his back later; it's like a little massage and Joong always gets so much joy from it, so it's a win-win situation.

After throwing on the first items of clothing his hands touch in his bag, Yunho heads to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and brush his teeth. He lumbers down the stairs, his hand gliding on the wood railing before it catches on a divot, a sharp pain stinging his palm and a yelp leaving his lips as a splinter embeds itself in his flesh.

Your head pops up over the couch, a look of concern gracing your features as you stand and rush over, snatching his hand and bringing it close to your face before Yunho can even catch his breath.

You pout as you inspect his palm, tilting it from side to side and squinting in the low light of the living room before you shake your head and pull him over to the window. There's a bit more light here but not much, just enough to highlight the worried furrow between your eyebrows and the lip bitten between your teeth.

Yunho desperately wants to lean down and suck your lip into his mouth but knows he can't just kiss you out of the blue, especially after how he's been acting with you lately, so he just stays still and watches you fuss over him.

"Come on, I have tweezers upstairs," you sigh as you lace your fingers with his and turn to tug him back up to your shared room.

Yunho can feel the back of his neck flush when he sees how small your hand is compared to his and does his level best not to let his eyes stray to the shape of your ass in your jeans, knowing he's liable to trip on his way up if he catches even a glimpse.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

Part 2

AN: this is part one of idk how many! will probs just be one or two more but who can say!

please please please comment or reblog, i need to know your thoughts or i die inside! im like tinker bell, i need attention to survive!

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

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muntxa si

MUNTXA SI: (english) to mate with, marry

(Adult) Neteyam vehemently opposes his human mate becoming Na’vi, for fear of losing her.

This story makes many assumptions - just go with them to enjoy the ride.

2,247 words.

The strength with which Neteyam opposed the idea, right from the very start, was a shock to everyone who knew him. When his mother first mentioned it, she saw a familiar fury in his eyes, one she knew she’d worn many times.

His brother nearly lost his head when he brought it up, and his father hadn’t even tried to broach the subject.

What he didn’t know was that they weren’t bringing it up of their own accord, though it was something they’d thought about before. They were bringing it up because I had brought it up to them first.

I was the only one who wasn’t shocked by his reaction. I knew that all Neteyam would see was the danger and risk involved, and there was nothing more detestable to Neteyam than putting me in harm’s way. This was a sometimes annoying but mostly reassuring trait of his, especially given that, as a human living on Pandora, danger was lurking around nearly every corner for me. Ewya had blessed me with a strong and capable - but slightly overbearing - protector.

After weeks of his family telling me it was me who would have to convince him, I finally plucked up the courage.

We sat in our Mauri pod, late at night, and the words spilled out of my mouth before I could fully control them.

“I want to become Na’vi. Norm has an Avatar for me, he’s been hiding it since I was little, and he told me on my 20th birthday. It’s fully mature now.”

Neteyam sat at the edge of our pod, his legs dangling over the edge and into the water, and he spun around so fast that his braids smacked the wall of the Mauri.

His eyes narrowed and he lowered his chin. “No.”

Taking a deep breath beneath my mask, I stood up. “You don’t get to decide for me, Teyam. I have decided, and I know the clan will support me.”

“No!” He was standing too now, towering over me at nearly twice my height, but he could never scare or intimate me, even if he truly tried.

“Listen to me, Neteyam. You are only thinking of the risk involved, and not the reward. I can’t survive here forever, as one of the last humans. What if the air tanks run out? How will we live our lives together, with me in this human body? Have you considered the fact that your lifespan is twice mine? What will you do when I am too old, even, to run and swim? I won’t live like that, Neteyam!”

I felt hot tears in my eyes, and tried to blink them away in frustration. “You can’t force me to live a half-life with you when a full life is within my grasp! I know Ewya will give this to me. She wouldn’t have brought me to you if she didn’t want us to be together.”

Neteyam’s hands rested on my shoulders, enveloping me, stressing to the both of us our impractical size difference.

“Y/N... you don’t know that she will give this to us. She may take you home to her.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the panic I could see in his face.

“I have to do this, Neteyam. We won’t have a future together if I don’t. Norm and the others... they talk about having to leave, without a permanent colony here. Their supplies won’t last forever. They would either take me, or leave me here to die with no oxygen.”

Neteyam pulled me down, so we were sitting face to face, our legs crossed.

“I cannot lose you, Y/N.”

“This is our best chance, Neteyam. Please. Please let me do this.”

As much as I had been pretending it was only my choice, and I didn’t need his permission, I knew I couldn’t do it without his blessing. That just wasn’t something I could do to Ma Teyam.

I watched his chest rise and fall with deep breaths as he contemplated.

“We will do this, Y/N, and if Ewya takes you, I will follow you to her myself and bring you back.”

It took time to plan - time that was exciting for all of us. We decided to fly back to the Tree of Souls to give my human body the best chance, since with the Metkayina, the ceremony would have to take place under water.

The Omatikaya welcomed the Sullys, and one sky person, back with open arms. After all, it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to them - I had many friends to greet, as well.

The ceremony was set for the night after our return. Neteyam was quiet at dinner, and his mother watched him cautiously.

“Son,” she said, handing him a plate, “I see the spirit within Y/N. It reminds me of your father - strong, stubborn, a little frustrating.” She smiled, but Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. “She will be okay.”

She gripped her son’s arm and he nodded, but the sinking feeling in his chest was there to stay, until the ceremony was complete.

Neteyam walked with me, hand and hand, through the large crowd there to witness my birth - or my funeral.

I could feel the tension radiating through his body, but no matter what I said, I wasn’t able to ease it for him. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, myself.

There she lay - me, but not me. Tall, with long, thick black hair and eyes that would surely be a piercing gold when opened. She was beautiful; it was the first I was seeing her.

“Oh, Neteyam...” I said, a lump in my throat, and gripped his arm tightly as we approached the tree.

He placed his hand over mine. “You can still change your mind,” he said, but with a sly smile, the first I’d seen him wear in a while - he knew there was little chance of that.

He lifted me up and placed me next to my new body, where the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya waited, a serene and focused look on her face.

She gestured for me to lay down, and I turned to Neteyam. Maybe it was the proximity to the Tree of Souls, but I felt a calm - and tried to convey it to Neteyam with a smile. His family stood behind him, taking their seats to join the ceremony. Neteyam would stay with me until it was done.

He nodded, and I could practically see his heart beating through his chest as he helped me to lay down, my head inches from my avatar’s.

“You will sleep now. Be calm,” a voice above me said, and I had only time to tell Neteyam I loved him before I sank away.

Watching her eyes close, a panic gripped Neteyam’s heart and he felt as if he could vomit in front of the entire clan.

He turned and sought his mother, and would have been embarrassed to do so in any other situation. She was seated between his brother and father, all holding hands with eyes closed, chanting to Ewya.

He watched as Ewya reached up, covering his mate in feather light touches, and he put his hands on her, praying to Ewya, reminding Ewya how much this human woman meant to him.

Silently, he told Ewya of the first time they’d met, at only six years old, and of their first kiss at 12, how she fought with him through the Great War despite her size, how long it took him to work up the courage to ask her to be his mate, and how they cried together when she said yes.

This woman is my life, Great Mother, he prayed, I ask that you return her to me in either body here, and we will make the most of this life we have together.

Every minute felt like an hour, and then the Tsahik reached over and pulled the mask off of his love’s face.

She was gone, at least from this form.

“She is passing through Ewya now, Neteyam, and you must guide her back,” the Tsahik said.

He leapt carefully over to her avatar body, taking it in for the first time. Those were her lips, the shape of her eyes, the sharp dip between her nose and mouth - all his favorite things about her, right here.

“Yawne,” he said, reaching out to touch her soft face, “can you hear me? Follow my voice. Come back to me so that we may return home together, and live the life you promised me.”

He looked to the Tsahik, who nodded in encouragement and resumed chanting. The cries of the clan rose around him, his father and mother’s the loudest, and he steadied his shaking body with a deep breath.

“Y/N, Yawne, hear my voice and follow it. I will wait for you forever - remember the promise I made. Do not deliver two souls to Ewya this day.”

He nearly shot back when the woman before him took a gasping breath, and amber eyes shot open.

It’s impossible to describe how it happens. It’s not a wordly experience, and there are no words to properly convey it.

Ewya is real, and she gave me a second chance at life.

Neteyam’s face hovered inches above mine as I gasped for air. He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me up, and even in this new body, in my disoriented state, I was acutely aware that I was naked.

“Yawne,” Neteyam whispered, and I saw the tears spilling from his eyes. He only called me Yawne - beloved - once before, when he asked me to be his mate.

“Tiyawn,” I replied, my voice breathy and almost foreign to my ears. My ears! I reached up, trailing my hand over my thick hair and reaching up to feel the pointy, blue ears atop my head. A giggle escaped before I could stop it.

“Can you stand?” he asked, gripping my arms.

I leaned into him. “I am naked.”

“You are Na’vi now,” he replied with almost a shrug, “but I will carry you if it concerns you.”

“I think you should, my legs feel weak.”

They felt strong. My entire body felt strong, and I couldn’t wait to learn how to use it.

I glanced over my shoulder to see myself. My former self. As Neteyam lifted me into his arms and stood up, I thought I should cry for her... but she didn’t feel like me, not anymore.

The clan cheered and whooped, hollered and threw their arms triumphant in the air, as Neteyam stood with me and let out what sounded like a war cry, shaking me in his arms.

The joy in his face was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, especially seen through these new eyes.

He rushed through the crowd, to his Ikran, and mounted in one fell swoop with me in his arms.

The Ikran felt so much smaller than she had when we’d arrived less than an hour ago, but of course, I was the one who had grown over three feet.

He took off, holding the saddle with one arm and me tightly in the other, to a place we could be alone.

Back at our temporary home, I was finally able to take a breath and try my new body out. For my first few steps, I had to hold Neteyam’s hands, until I got the hang of it.

I felt weak, but I knew that would wear off. This body was strong, and I was going to make it even stronger, so I could finally keep up with Neteyam.

The thought made me burst into tears as he searched through his mother’s things for something I could wear.

“What is it, Y/N? Do you hurt?” he asked, rushing to my side with only a necklace in his hands.

Embarrassed, I tried to wave him off, but he was too on edge. “Tell me, Yawne. Tell me what you need.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him tightly to me. My face rested perfectly on his chest, where before, it was just over his waist - making hugging an awkward feat. We fit perfectly together now, and it made me cry even harder.

“I’m just so happy and grateful, Neteyam.” I pulled back, wiping at my tears. “Tell me what you think.”

“What I think?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

“Of... me. Of my body. Do you still, I mean, do you like it?”

His gaze softened and he reached up to cup my cheek. “I have loved you for 15 years, Y/N. I loved you human form. Your small body, your beautiful soft hair, and your light eyes. I loved every moment of our life together.”

The tears threatened to return.

“But this... this is my dream, Y/N. I see it now, what you’ve always seen. You were meant to be one of The People, to be with me, to be the mother of my children and my mate for life.”

A smile spread across my new face so wide, I thought it might crack. “I love you, Neteyam.”

He pulled me into his strong arms, and we took a deep breath together.

“Forever,” he whispered in my ear.

I squeezed him tight. “Forever.”

#avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #avatar way of the water #neteyam x reader

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ofsappho · 10 months

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Summertime Sadness (part 2)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Ten years ago: the first time you met Simon

Today: the first time Ghost meets you

Tags: mental illness, therapeutic boarding school, self harm, suicide attempt/suicidality, self harm, abuse, parental abandonment, much the same as last chapter. This fic is unedited because I don’t feel like editing it lol. If you see spelling/grammar issues, no you didn’t.

TEN YEARS AGO

Reader POV

It’s intake day.

Intake day happens once a week, always on Wednesday.

You don’t know why they pick Wednesday. It seems pretty arbitrary, doesn’t it?

On intake day, the nurses and counselors make all the current residents of the inpatient program line up to greet the newbies. You actually look forward to intake day. Everyone here is so boring and routine; your roommate never speaks unless spoken to and she always keeps her earbuds in. On intake day, the hope that someone nice will be admitted survives for the few hours of the intake itself.

It usually dies right after. There was one polite girl who smiled when you waved last week, but she was transferred to a different facility that night before you could learn her name.

You’ve been here for three weeks, so that’s three intake days.

You’re not sure why you’ve been here so long. It seems a little excessive; you’d think by now they’d realize your stuff isn’t so bad and maybe you could transition to outpatient appointments?

It’s a little dissociation and some minor depression. Not bad at all.

But your doctors agree, albeit gently, that you should stay for the full five month course.

The program isn’t so bad. The facility sits on a sprawling multi-acre property in the British countryside, where everything is beautiful and verdant and always chilly. It’s lovely. The tea is good. You’re getting used to how they take it here. It’s nothing like the sweet tea you drink back home.

You suppose that’s another reason why they won’t let you go home even though you’re okay; there isn’t a home to go back to. Your dad hasn’t looked you in the eye since Mom left. At least the orderlies here greet you in the morning.

(What Dad doesn’t know is that before she left, she told you she loved you and to wait for her. Soon, she’ll take you away from this place and you’ll never have to see your dad again.)

Before you head to the foyer, you check your hair in the mirror of your room’s suicide-proofed bathroom. A young teenage face stares back at you with cheeks flushed red from the sun. You trace your deep smile lines with the tip of your finger, then practice smiling. You would have feel better about moving to a therapeutic boarding school if you’d been greeted with a smile.

At first, you think the newest crop of poor souls will be uninteresting at best. Listless rich kids detoxing off Mommy’s coke, frightened preteens who’ve never been away from their parents for an extended period of time, and a few teenagers straight from an ER, IV bags and all.

And then you see him get off the bus last.

He’s tall, towering over everyone else. A lanky, almost skeletal build, with a bored, aloof expression on his face. He hides the Zippo lighter he was playing with in his sleeve before the nurses catch and confiscate it.

There’s something horrifically severe about him. He can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, but he carries himself like he’s a blade and the world is filled with monsters.

His eyes are large and dark, rich brown irises rimmed with pale blonde eyelashes. And they’re kind, even though he would probably hate having that pointed out.

You decide then and there that you’ll befriend him. He could use a friend; everyone here does. He’s beautiful in his sharpness and elegant in his abrasiveness. Maybe you can coax more of that hidden kindness out, show him that it’s worth more than his anger. You wouldn’t be able to stay away if you tried.

You both like playing with fire, though you prefer less literal ones.

TODAY

Ghost POV

Your smile fades swiftly as if it was never there to begin with.

There are two ghosts in this room. That’s what you are; a ghost of the girl he knew.

He watches and waits for you to shift uncomfortably and start blabbering to fill the silence like you used to. “Why’d you make them call me?” Ghost asks when it’s clear that you won’t.

As soon as you explain, he’s out of here. Ghost meant it when he said he never wanted to see you again.

You’re the last living reminder of the past he’s tried so hard to kill. The beeping sounds of your heart monitor spell out his mistakes in a grating, irritating rhythm.

Your answer disappoints his expectations. “I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Ghost doesn’t hear any wistfulness or longing in your voice, anything that would tell him that you’re clinging on to the boy you thought he was. Only a bone-dry and hollow statement of facts.

“What do you want?”

You ignore his question. At fifteen, you were good at that. At twenty-five, you’re better. “You got any cigarettes I could bum? You look like you still smoke them,” You say as you fiddle with your torn, bleeding nail beds with the classic anxiety of nicotine withdrawal.

He does that too when a mission stretches too long without a resupply and he finishes his cigarettes early to stave off hunger.

Ghost remembers fighting with you over the pack of smokes he smuggled into the program. He would hold it way above your head and laugh as you struggled to reach them. But you never gave up - they were bad for him, and you liked him too much to see him die of lung cancer.

He remembers the determination in your eyes and your unwavering faith that he could be saved.

“They’re bad for you,” Ghost echoes.

If you remember that moment, you don’t show it. “You know what else is fucking bad for you?” Your tone is so acerbic that it gives him whiplash.

He can’t resist taking a shot. “What, being a prick?” You just… bring out the worst in him. You make him feel as unhinged and unmoored as he was when you first met.

You roll your bloodshot eyes.

“I wasn’t going to call you out on that. I was going to say benzos and vodka. Also throwing yourself headfirst off a bridge.”

“Oh.”

What is he supposed to say to that?

“Why did you come?” You ask after a long moment of quiet interspersed by that fucking heart monitor.

Ghost grinds his teeth into each other as he reflects. He hates doing that; the inside of his skull is a bad place. “…I don’t know,” He admits. Coming here was a mistake; Ghost understands that now.

The foul taste on the back of his tongue is guilt. But why? You did this to yourself. You brought him here to play games and fuck him up, so why is he the one who feels… bad?

You sigh. “Simon-“

“Ghost. It’s Ghost now,” He cuts you off with more violence than necessary.

Your mouth settles into a tight, pained line. “Ghost. Go away.”

“But you called me here.”

That provokes a reaction.

Ghost sees it and immediately wishes it hadn’t.

You stare him straight in the eye, your dilated pupils peel back his mask and see the face underneath. Your skin is tinged gray and your bottom lip blooms red with blood from where you’ve bitten through it.

He wants back the child sobbing for his forgiveness on her knees, who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“And it was a mistake, and I should never have done it, and I just wanted the satisfaction of knowing you weren’t going to pick up the phone. That I was truly alone.”

So the memory of him is a knife you’re using on yourself. Fucking disturbing.

“Oh.”

You raise an eyebrow as you wave. “Bye.”

Right.

That’s it.

Though your dismissal rankles, Ghost does as you ordered and takes his leave of you.

His work phone vibrates a few times.

Only one person calls that it. “Captain,” Ghost greets.

Captain Price clears his throat on the other side of the line. “Lieutenant. When can we expect you back?”

‘Tomorrow’ is on the tip of Ghost’s tongue.

He’s never taken a day off in his career, which means he’s got at least a year or two in built up vacation time. “I’ll be gone for a while longer, sir. Not sure yet how long,” Ghost answers promptly.

It’s only for a few more days, a week at most. Long enough to make sure you won’t try to kill yourself again, long enough for the guilt freezing his blood and choking his lungs to fade.

“Alright, Lieutenant. Keep us posted.”

“Yes, sir.”

TAGGING: @devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner

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xfgpng · 6 months

Text

reader description :: petite asian female, 21, 5’0, medium length straight hair + pale skin

reader :: jackie lee

commissioned :: ✔️ (as in a follower’s oc lmao, not my own)

wc :: 3k

warnings :: angst, fluff, feelings realisations, mentions of blood, guns + murder

despite the nagging feeling he had all morning, after seeing jackie in that state, he didn’t really want to think about what would happen if they decided to leave again without her.

for some reason, sebastian felt responsible for her though he didn’t know why or when it even began. ciel was upset and understandably so but they both decided it would be wise to let her join on their new mission. it was further away from the manor and it would be a few days so even if they did try to leave without her, sebastian had no doubts that she would not be too happy about it and he was starting to wonder why he even cared how she felt.

jackie had an unknown hold over everyone in the manor but no one wanted to dwell on that fact for too long. the point was that despite her insistent flirting and the short skirts she’d wear to torment sebastian every other day, she was trustworthy which was important in the phantomhive manor and most importantly, jackie was loyal to a fault.

“you need to stay by my side at all times, do you understand me?” sebastian says firmly, ignoring the warmth seeping through his uniform where she gripped onto his arm.

usually, the carriage ride was filled with a comfortable silence. they’d briefly discuss the mission and then ciel would nod off, as much as the young master denied it.

today, however, was different. the man ciel was meeting was their actual target. he had been kidnapping young women off the streets at night and leaving nothing but a shoe behind.

he was dubbed the cinderella killer and despite the police trying to find him, they’d come up short each time and finally, ciel had to step in. sebastian had found a lead just a few days ago and had secretly been tailing the man under ciel’s orders.

“cinderella killer?” jackie frowns, grip tightening around sebastian’s bicep, “how disgusting can someone be to just do such a thing?”

“it’s pretty normal around these areas” sebastian grins, “humans don’t seem to ever actually need a reason to behave so barbarically”

“not all humans are so cruel” jackie says, “I don’t think i’d have it in me to kill anyone”

“no?” ciel smirks, “not even if it was for me or sebastain?”

she doesn’t answer him. it was no use because she’d never been put in a situation where she’d have to do that and she hoped that if she ever were, sebastian would handle it.

“i see” sebastian chuckles at her lack of response, “he’s only teasing, don’t think too hard and worry that pretty little head of yours”

he was mocking her like he always did but there was no hiding the underlying truth. he was smitten by her and fond of her silly antics. anyone could see that but he was still in denial and she was just happy to be included.

“does he know that we’re onto him?” she asks after a moment, “the killer”

“i don’t think he’s stupid otherwise he would’ve been caught by now” ciel sighs, “but i made a deal with him”

“oh?”

“a fake one of course” he adds, “just to let his guard down”

“a professional serial killer who leaves no evidence behind other than a shoe” jackie says dryly, “even the police can’t seem to catch him. i don’t think his going to let his guard down at all”

“you’re too paranoid” sebastian laughs, “he seemed quite surprised to hear from us and he suggested a place to meet”

“you don’t find that weird?” she asks, raising a brow at the man. she knew they were smart but even a serial killer wouldn’t fall for their antics. people might’ve known who ciel was and most people were eager to meet him but word of his help and good deeds had gotten around pretty quickly.

there was just no way this man wasn’t suspicious of ciel.

“you can stay at the inn and wait for us if you’re so worried” ciel offers, “you could be a distraction if you’re too on edge like this”

“no” she says immediately, “i’m fine, i’m just asking questions, that’s all”

jackie had spent hours watching the show and reading the manga before she ended up here and she’d always imagine herself joining them on their missions. a silly daydream that had suddenly become her reality. she was not about to let them push her aside again.

 she wanted to experience everything and prove that she was strong enough to handle these cases with them and that despite being human, strong enough to stand beside sebastian.

he had once called her a fool in love, not meant to offend her but because he truly couldn’t understand loving and trusting anyone so blindly. he was still just a demon after all and things could change over night in ciel said so but that didn’t seem to deter her one bit. it only motivated her to prove him wrong.

november evenings were chilly and wet. she was dressed warm but still insisted on keeping close to sebastian. it felt as though he was a natural furnace and she was drawn to him.

“he’s up in that building” sebastian says, glancing around before they walk across the street.

they were trying it be discreet about this meeting, choosing a time when the streets were quiet and everyone was inside their homes. the cold made sure to keep everyone inside and that worked in their favour, ciel wasn’t sure what would happen but he knew sebastian would handle it.

“young master” sebastian says as he opens the large glass doors of the hotel.

ciel enters and jackie follows, looking around in awe that the beautiful paintings and interior decorations. she wondered if sebastian would ever take her to a place like this when they had some free time.

he enjoyed sex in bizarre places but there was nothing wrong with a romantic night in with candlelit dinner. perhaps she was in over her head but she couldn’t help but imagine how romantic it could be if he just let her plan their evenings.

“this way” a man wearing a navy blue suit says, “my boss is upstairs, 3rd floor room 323”

ciel gives him a curt nod and sebastian steps in front of jackie when he notices the man staring at her.

she can’t help but preen under his attention. he was so jealous even though he denied having any sort of feelings towards her. whether it was just him being possessive or whether he truly cared, jackie couldn’t help but be happy for the attention he’d give her anyway.

these days, if he wasn’t busy in the manor or assisting ciel, he gave his attention to her. she’d heard from may-rin that before, sebastian would fool around with other women. while she wasn’t one to gossip, she knew that was true but she also wondered what else may-rin knew.

“stay close” he whispers and she nods, letting go of his arm. she knew she had to be professional and they were about to meet with a serial killer, something she didn’t think she’d ever do in her life.

“ah, please, come in” the man says. he’s a lot taller than she imagined and he’s dressed professionally, as though he is some rich businessman and upon close inspection, he seems to be someone very important.

an aristocrat of some sort which would make sense. they sometimes seemed to have weird hobbies and his seemed to be abducting and killing young women.

she recognised him from the paper. she’d read an article just a few weeks ago and he was being awarded. he was a big shot in the business world as well as the government.

 it made perfect sense why no one would even suspect him, he was too much in the public eye and it was the perfect disguise if jackie could say so.

he was smart too, judging from the way he held the conversation going with ciel.

it was all too perfect really. he had no reason to be worried about the police because they all trusted him and he must’ve had connections.

she glanced around the suite. it seemed to be much larger than a regular suite would be and when she glanced back to him, he was watching her intensely.

“is this your helper?” he asks

“yes she is” ciel says, “this is jackie”

“nice to meet you” he smirks, reaching out to take her hand and out the corner of her eye, she can see sebastian twitch.

“you seem to enjoy collecting jewellery” jackie says, her smile forced as she moves towards a large glass case. it was displayed for everyone to see and from what she could tell, it was all women’s jewellery and the thought made her sick to her stomach.

these were not just any pieces, they were his souvenirs, souvenirs from his victims that he proudly displayed because he was that cocky and confident. he knew that he’d never get caught, not by the police anyway.

“i do wish you weren’t here this evening” the man sighs, “it makes it so much harder to do this”

“do what?” ciel asks

but before he can even ask anything else, a group of men step into the suite wearing black. the point their guns at the trio and the man laughs.

“i do apologise for this but you’ve brought this upon yourself” he shrugs, not looking sorry at all. “you didn’t have to meddle in my business, i wasn’t bothering you with my hobbies”

ciel doesn’t have to say anything before sebastian moves. he’s faster than jackie has ever seen him move and before she knows it, the room is eerily silent.

“what—”

“you didn’t think you’d actually get away with this” ciel scoffs, “in fact, i think you thought you’d get rid of me and continue like nothing ever happened”

the man panics as he falls to the ground but as ciel is talking to him, jackie sees one of the assassins move for his gun and pull the trigger.

she can’t even remember what happened. all she hears is a loud scream, white noise and everything goes blurry.

her left arm feels numb, right where her shoulder is. her eyes seem to droop and the next thing she knows, she’s falling.

sebastian moves quick, tossing a knife into the assassins neck before he catches her. she can hardly focus on anything other than her heavy breathing and the man begging ciel to spare him.

“why the fuck would you do that?” sebastian yells, blood boiling at the sight of her shaking slightly in his arms. there’s a lot of blood, so much so that it seeps into his pants where she’s laying.

“i.. i had to” she coughs, “he was going to shoot you”

“so!” he snaps, angrily, “you know bullets have no effect on me, what on earth were you thinking jackie!?”

“i know but i was… thinking that you look way too hot in that uniform” she says softly, reaching up with her other hand to cup his cheek, “gun shots would ruin that”

“and.. i love you” she adds

“jackie!” he says but her eyes close after that and he feels his whole body going into shock.

he’s never had to deal with this before and ciel beside him, equally as panicked doesn’t help the situation. he couldn’t care less about the man in the room and he knows they have to deal with him.

love? if love makes you do stupid things then sebastian wanted no parts in it. he was right, humans were stupid and they never thought things through.

he doesn’t understand why he’s so mad, why his whole body refuses to move despite him knowing they needed to leave and get her to a hospital or something.

“no hospitals” ciel says, “she’ll be upset when she wakes”

“young master i—”

“everything will be fine” ciel says, remaining calm despite the way his hands are obviously shaking. they needed to leave, to get back to the manor where they were home and safe. where jackie would be safe.

“come” ciel says, “carry her out and be careful not to put any pressure on her arm”

sebastian knows that. he wants to tell ciel that he’s not stupid and that he knows what he’s doing but he can’t bring himself to move or to say anything else.

ciel can feel that something is off so he grabs sebastian’s hand and squeezes. it seems to work because they’re moving out the room and down the stairs, ignoring the elevator.

“jackie you need to stay awake” sebastian says, trying not to shout too loud, “we’re in the carriage so open your eyes for me”

“i’m tired” she whispers, barely registering anything. she knows she was shot and apart of her is glad her body seems to have went into shock because she can’t feel a thing.

“you can rest when we’re home” ciel says

“home?” jackie grins, a little delirious, “i do have a home”

“yes you do” sebastian swallows, “at the manor so don’t sleep until we get there”

“okay” she agrees easily but is already slipping back into sleep, head resting against sebastian’s chest where he holds her firmly against his body.

“stupid stupid stupid” sebastian says, squeezing his eyes shut. he wants to throw her off his lap, scream at ciel and her for putting him in this situation though he knows it’s not their fault.

he wants someone to blame and he knows he should’ve made her stay. she’d be hurt but at least she wouldn’t be shot. she’d be sad but she wouldn’t have lost so much blood.

the room is dimly lit when she opens her eyes. she tries to sit up but can’t, wincing at the sharp pain she feels in her shoulder.

 sebastian is immediately at her side, forcing her to lay back down. he’s no longer wearing his uniform, dressed down completely which is something she’s never seen him do.

 when she looks at his face, he’s frowning, something else she’s never seen before and she can’t help but smile despite the pain because it’s so obvious that he cares for her.

he could’ve had anyone else take care of her but he stayed even when she was unconscious. he hasn’t even showered, still covered in her blood and the sight shouldn’t make her so happy but it does.

“you’re an idiot” he scoffs, trying to hide how relieved he is that she’s awake.

“yes but i’m alive” she grins, “and you still look sexy, i’d say that’s a win in my books”

“well change the books you read because it’s making you stupid” he says dryly, helping her drink some water before wiping her face off with a towel nearby.

“i’m sorry” she says, reaching to hold his hand and she’s only a little surprised that he lets her.

“you know nothing can happen to me” he says, “but you… you’re different”

“i don’t know why i panicked and moved without thinking” she sighs, “it was stupid but i wanted you to be okay”

“jackie” he glares but he doesn’t let go of her hand

“yes i know” she shakes her head, “i won’t do that again”

“you’ve upset me” he admits, “but you’re okay so i suppose that’s more important right now”

 she’s never seen him this upset before. they’ve experienced a few things since her time here but an angry sebastian directed at her felt different.

“i need some time” he says after a while and she looks up at him, eyes widening when he does let go of her hand.

“seb—”

“i need to shower and then the young master needs my assistance” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “you need to rest”

she’s seen him blow up, shout and get even kill but him being so calm while being mad at her makes her heart clench uncomfortably. she knows she messed up and it would be a while before she’d be allowed to go with them anywhere that related to cases.

“you can sleep, i won’t be coming back this evening” he tells her, but he still leans down and grabs her hand again.

he kisses her knuckles gently, avoiding eye contact because he knew now that if he looked at her, he’d give in to those pretty eyes and she still needed to rest and also think about what she did.

 if he was being a little petty, it was only because he still needed to understand why he reacted the way he did. apart of him felt closer to her than ever before but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

he knew how she felt about him, had come to terms with accepting that no matter what he did or tried to do, jackie wasn’t phased.

and besides, she was far too charming to stay angry at forever.

“i really am sorry” she calls after him, making him stop just before leaving her room, “you’re right, it was stupid of me and i should’ve been thinking before acting but sometimes we do things we don’t even understand ourselves”

“even if you’re not human, that’s something you must understand right?” she asks and he sighs

“jackie, you can’t—”

“i love you” she cuts him off, “i don’t need you to tell me that you love me, it doesn’t change how i feel and you don’t get to tell me how to feel either”

“i know you do” he sighs, turning to face her and despite being upset, he could never deny how beautiful she was even laying there with an injury she should’ve not had.

“so you can stay mad as long as you need to but i’m not going anywhere” she frowns, looking away from him, “i just need you to know that”

he rolls his eyes but he can’t stop the fond smile even if he tried to.

“no sex for a while but i’ll come back once i’m done” he says and she grins because she knew he’d never stay mad too long.

#[ 🪼 ] xfg writes #reader insert #black butler sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #black butler sebastian #kuroshitsuji sebastian #kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji sebastian michaelis #black butler fluff #kuroshitsuji fanfiction #kuroshitsuji angst

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misqnon · 7 months

Text

Royal Blue

A gen Sanji fic, around 6K words. also on ao3, here

“Hey, guys? The News Coo just dropped off a letter with the paper, but I think it was a mistake. It’s not addressed to any of us.”

“Who’s it addressed to?” Robin asks.

“Vinsmoke.” Nami says simply, and Sanji actually staggers in his place on the deck.

-----

Five times Sanji’s secret past as a Vinsmoke almost got revealed to the crew, and one time he can’t help but tell them.

AKA I love dramatic character revelations and I’m bitter not everyone was there to react to Whole Cake Island.

Disclaimer- I’ve never actually written for an active fandom before, nor have I finished reading/watching One Piece. Please forgive any blatant errors. I’m currently in the middle of Water 7 and I skip around a lot. 90% of my knowledge comes from secondary sources.

pls enjoy!

The first time it happened, it was less of a danger to his cover, and more a painful reminder that he had anything to hide at all.

After all, he’d left that history behind him so long ago that by now, more than 10 years later, he was sure he wouldn’t ever have to reveal that history. Hell, not even Zeff knew. As far as he was concerned, Sanji was just an orphan boy who’d ended up in that unlucky cruise ship kitchen, and he didn’t need to know how he’d gotten there.

So when they’d all been traveling through the Alabasta desert, Luffy and Nami and Vivi and all the rest of the crew, Sanji hadn’t been thinking about it much at all. When they’d found out Vivi was a princess, well, it had put a little ping into his mind. That little, “You’re technically a prince, too, remember?” But he had quickly squashed it. Not anymore, and never again, so he didn’t need to dwell on the commonality between them.

That was, until weeks later, during that boundless desert trip, when they’d all been sitting around the campfire, resting up for the night on the cool desert sand. It was so much more pleasant than the heat that’d been oppressive over their heads all day. Everyone was chatting, idly enjoying the soup he’d made for everyone. Luffy had downed two bowls of it, and was now snoozing with his hat over his head to the right of them all. Zoro seemed to have a similar idea, though it wasn’t clear if he was actually asleep, or just leaning back with his eyes closed in his usual introverted manner.

Nami and Vivi were sharing stories over the meal, shawls pulled over their shoulders, and Usopp and Chopper were messing around beside them, occasionally joining the conversation to interject one of Usopp’s grand adventures or Chopper’s impressed gasps.

He decided to stroll over to the two women, now with his own bowl carefully balanced in his hand. The chef always ate last, after all.

“Hello, Vivi my sweet! And Nami, my swan! How is the soup?” He asked, practically floating through the air to slide in beside them both. Usopp silently rolled his eyes.

Vivi just smiled, answering for both of them. “It’s delicious, Sanji! Thank you for making dinner again.”

“Why of course! It’s my job as the chef, after all!” He sang, still balancing the soup in his hands that he has yet to even touch, now distracted.

Then, he continued, “You know, this recipe is sometimes called ‘Marry Me Soup.’ They say it’s so good that it’ll convince you to marry the chef.” He said, wiggling his already swirling eyebrow.

Vivi just giggled. “I’m flattered, Sanji, but I don’t think my father would appreciate me getting married right now. Besides, I’ve always been told I’m expected to marry a prince.” She didn’t seem particularly happy about this, nor did she seem very enthusiastic about marriage, period- but Sanji still deflated at the undercut of a rejection. For multiple reasons.

The hopeless flirt within him almost blurted out, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day then, Princess Vivi!’

Except it didn’t, at all, because even for Vivi’s hand in marriage he wouldn’t let that secret slip.

Instead, he just clamped his jaw shut, sat down beside them, and took a sad sip of his soup. Usopp and Chopper laughed, unaware of the true reason for his melancholy. Nami reassured Vivi he’d be fine after she momentarily worried she’d offended him, before scooching closer to inquire further if she really had to marry a prince someday, against her will. They began chatting again, Nami looking fiercely protective all of a sudden.

Sanji only had a couple more spoonfuls before he stood, silently, and walked off a few feet away from the group for a smoke.

A certain green-haired swordsman poked an eye open to glance over at him as he walked by.

That was odd. Sanji didn’t usually smoke while people were still eating. Especially the ladies. It was inconsiderate, he said, cigarette smoke wafting into people’s faces while they tried to eat, tainting the taste with the smell of nicotine.

But there he was, huffing away at the cigarette a bit too fast, in Zoro’s opinion. Then again, he didn’t really know anything about smoking. Nor did he care. He shrugged, shut his eye again, and went back to resting.

Now that Sanji thought about it, looking back, maybe it’d been on his mind more than he thought. After all, why else had he used the codename “Mr. Prince” while he impersonated Mr. 3?

—

“Liar Noland?”

“You know it, Sanji?” Nami asks, peering at this book that she’s never heard of. “But it says it was published in the North Blue.”

“I was born in the North Blue.” He says, and actually smiles, wide and true. His memories of back then are anything but good, but…

“Didn’t I tell you?” He tries to play off, though he knows he’s done no such thing. “It’s where I grew up.”

“No, I thought you were from the East like the rest of us.” She muses, and Usopp agrees.

Sanji continues. And a smile comes to his face again, for the same reason. “My mom used to read me that book when I was a kid.”

For a moment Nami and Usopp both think this is the first Sanji’s told them much of anything about his childhood- they know he had a pretty rough going when he met Zeff, but that’s about it. They’re too focused on the task at hand, though.

Nami opens it and begins to read, the rest of the conversation forgotten.

—

The seven of them stood around the ancient stone door as if peering at it would do anything.

“WHY WON’T THIS STUPID DOOR OPEN!?” Luffy yelled eventually, stomping his feet with impatience.

Robin stepped forward, looking closer at the intricate carvings of winged creatures and giant serpents. Most compelling was the small bowl that seemed to be carved into the center, right below a sharpened bit of rock in the enclave.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before…” She said, hand to her chin in thought. Unlike Luffy, she wasn’t upset, only engulfed in academic curiosity. She stepped back then, walking away to inspect the other parts of the carvings, further down the wall.

“Can’t we just break it down?” Zoro asked, poking at the old stone with little regard for its value. Nami frowned at him, slapping his hand away.

Robin didn’t waste any emotion at his comment, still looking at the newfound bit of text she’d found behind some ivy.

“This stuff is ancient, you idiot! It’s irreplaceable!” Nami growled, scowling as Zoro narrowed his eyes back at her. For a moment, Robin felt a bit of appreciation for the navigator. She was definitely the most levelheaded of this group so far.

“It could be booby-trapped! Besides, it’s probably worth a ton of Berry.” She said, eye’s suddenly aglow with a mischievous shine.

Nevermind, Robin thought with a sigh.

Sanji, Usopp, and Chopper stood back with little to contribute. Usopp seemed to be trying to think of a way to get them over the impossibly tall wall, while Chopper distracted Luffy with the sighting of a big beetle.

Sanji just stood there, a lit cigarette lazily lilting smoke between his teeth. They’d probably figure it out between Usopp, Robin, and Nami. Meanwhile, he could continue to plan out what to make for the rest of the week with the meager rations of fruit and meat they’d gathered.

That was, until Robin finally stood, hand still on her chin but a look of accomplishment dancing on her features.

“Here. It says that to open the door, we must provide a drop of royal blood.” She explained, pointing to the ancient language inscribed on the ivy-covered wall.

Everyone rose their eyebrows at that, including (and especially) Sanji.

“Royal blood?” Usopp asked, confused. “Like a king or something?”

“Aw, man!” Luffy cried. “If only Vivi was still with us!”

“That doesn’t make any damn sense.” Zoro said. “How does the wall know whether the blood is royal or not?”

Robin shrugged. She was an archaeologist, not a scientist. “Who knows.” She said simply.

“I’ll just try it.” Luffy said, rolling up his sleeves and stomping over to the little enclave that held the bowl and the piercing rock.

“Wait!!” Chopper yelled. “You can’t just go stabbing yourself with ancient rocks! Especially ones that have already had other people’s blood on it!” He cried, now trying to pull Luffy away from the wall. He continued to drone on about bacteria and blood-borne diseases as Sanji began sucking a little harder on his cigarette.

Honestly, he didn’t really see the need to get into the old temple anyway. He was starting to think they should just leave. For completely unselfish reasons.

“For once, I agree with the marimo. Let’s just break the damn thing open.” He said, stretching his leg.

“No, damnit!” Nami said, stomping over to him. “You could set off a trap!”

He frowned at that, putting his leg down obediently.

Usopp was next to Robin now, looking between the inscription she’d found and the spot where Chopper was still frantically pulling Luffy away from. “I don’t get it.” He decided finally. “Besides, what do they mean by ‘royal blood,’ exactly? Will any royal blood work, or only the royal blood of whoever ruled this nation?”

Robin found it to be a very good question coming from the teen. She nodded in agreement. “True. The inscription doesn’t clarify.”

As soon as Usopp said it, he began to wonder the same thing. And it made him more nervous. His poor cigarette was almost spent now.

Would his blood work? If it did, would they suspect anything? Should he put it in now, and claim the door was just stupid, like Zoro had claimed earlier? If so, he’d better do it before Luffy, in case the rubber man’s didn’t work-

“HAHA!” Luffy exclaimed, finally pricking the tip of a rubbery outstretched finger on the rock. Chopper deflated in resignation, now joining the rest of them in peering at the bowl as Luffy’s blood fell into it.

The drop of blood fell into the bowl, sat momentarily on the bottom, then was suddenly absorbed by the porous stone as if it was dying of thirst. Everyone looked on in various states of amazement and fear as they waited, one second, two seconds, three seconds, five, ten-

“...I don’t think it’s doing anything.” Nami finally grumbled.

“Well, the good news is, it doesn’t look like it set off any traps.” Replied Usopp, looking around anxiously for any sign of movement in the jungle around them.

Robin was peering at the bowl with curious blue eyes. “Intriguing…”

“Aw, man!” Luffy huffed. He turned suddenly to Usopp. “Usopp, you try.”

“WHAAA? WHY ME?”

“You like Kaya. And Kaya’s kinda royalty. That’s close enough, right?”

“KAYA ISN’T A PRINCESS, LUFFY! SHE’S JUST RICH! AND I’M NOT EVEN HER! THAT’S TOO MUCH OF A STRETCH.” Usopp yelled in frustration.

Zoro, Chopper, and Nami were various degrees of frustrated and fed up listening to the two of them bicker. Sanji was still anxiously tapping his foot, hoping the captain wouldn’t systematically make them all try. And if he did, hoping that his didn’t do shit.

That is, until they heard the familiar call of Marines from up the path behind them.

Sanji turned, eyes wide with panic. “Shit-” He said, lighting another cigarette.

“Marines? All the way up here? How?” Someone said. Sanji wasn’t even paying attention anymore.

“HURRY USOPP! C’MON, GO!”

“NO, LUFFY! MINE WON’T BE ANY DIFFERENT!”

Zoro started unsheathing Wado, ready for a fight, though even he seemed to realize that that was far too many Marines and they were far too close to be able to run.

As the group devolved into arguing, panic, and frantic attempts to prepare for a fight, Sanji looked back one last time at that stupid door and its stupid little blood-sacrifice bowl.

The Marines were visible now, charging from the bottom of the hill and quickly approaching- the path they’d used to get here- the only path out- now blocked.

Sanji cursed, pushing through the mess of the crew and jabbing his thumb onto the rock.

The group went quiet as the giant stone doors began to shake, then pulled slowly open into a dark, but open, temple.

They all looked in surprise to Sanji, who bit down on his cigarette and began running through the opening.

“C’mon, idiots! The Marines are right behind us!”

The group took one look back and followed, sighing in relief as the giant stone doors began to pull shut again just as they’d all made it through.

Everyone was still running, unsure if the Marines would be able to power through, though Luffy had bound up beside him to ask,

“WOOOAH, SANJI! ARE YOU ROYALTY OR SOMETHING?”

“No, idiot. The door’s just stupid. It probably just didn’t work for you ‘cause your blood’s all rubbery and shit.”

Luffy frowned at that, though he seemed satisfied with that answer.

Sanji didn’t turn around after that, but by the feeling of several pairs of eyes boring into the back of his head, he got the feeling the rest of the crew wasn’t quite as convinced.

—

Luckily for him, (and quite unluckily for everyone else), the temple was indeed filled with booby-traps. No one had any time to ask him why the hell his blood had worked because they’d spent the next hour or so of their lives trying not to die.

When they finally made it out the other side, sweaty and beat-up and a few crewmates still a little bit on fire, it was the last thing on everyone’s minds. Especially considering the map they’d found as spoils for their trouble.

Later that night, though, when they’d made it back to the Going Merry and everyone had feasted on grilled pork and pineapple and rice, Zoro stayed behind after dinner, arms crossed and leaning broodily against the doorframe, all despite the drinking that was now taking place out on the deck.

“What do you want, Marimo?” Sanji spit, though he had a feeling he might already know what it was.

“Why did your blood open up that door?”

“Like I said, I don’t think that hunk of rock can actually differentiate between royal blood and not. We just got lucky.”

“Luffy’s blood didn’t work.”

“Yea, and like I said, it’s probably because his blood’s all fucked up and made of rubber.” Sanji bit back, emphasizing the fact that he’d already explained this.

“He’s still human. And I’m pretty sure I heard the Marines trying to prick themselves on it too after we got through.”

Sanji shrugged. “I guess I got some royalty in my family line somewhere, then. Like I said, lucky for us.”

Zoro glared at him. ‘Like I said, like I said.’ It was suspicious.

“Whatever, shit-cook.” He finally replied, shoving off the wall and heading back out to deck to join the party.

Sanji bitterly lit another cigarette.

—

“Newspaper’s here!” Someone calls from the front deck of the Sunny. Sanji’s already walking around with a tray of drinks, currently stopped at Zoro, who takes it without much of a thank you aside from a glance.

He rolls his eyes and moves on, wanting to take a peek at the paper anyway. Nami has it at the moment, so he heads over, even though he’s already given her her drink- first, as always.

“Anything interesting, Nami?” He asks, forgoing the swan~ that got him an eyeroll earlier. He’s also just genuinely curious, which has him distracted just enough to act normal around women.

She skims it and frowns. “Nah, not much. Unless you consider Buggy interesting news.” She says, throwing the stack of parchment to the nearby table without a care. She takes her drink and leaves, presumably to go work at her desk.

Sanji does not find Buggy the Clown to be worthy of his attention, but the damn weirdo happens to pop up way more than he or any of the crew seems to think reasonable.

Regardless, he takes a peek at the newspaper anyway, since he’s already there. Nami’s right, nothing’s of interest- save for the stupid comic strip they’ve included on the last page.

Sora, Warrior of the Sea.

Sanji frowns, his face twisting up into the kind of gangster-like grimace he reserves for Zoro when he’s most exceptionally pissed him off.

He’s not nearly as bothered about it as he should be, but the comic is included in almost every issue of the paper they’ve received since they hit the Grand Line. The first time he’d spotted the Vinsmoke name he’d nearly had a stroke, but apparently, the few crew members who actually read that bit of the paper seemed convinced it was all fictional, the villainous Germa 66 army included.

Sanji was quite fine with leaving it that way.

It’s just a shitty attempt at Marine propaganda, and the fact his family’s been written in as villains as if they aren’t a real royal family kinda does make him laugh. They’ve become so synonymous with evil that they’re written as cartoon villains by the same news company that works with them in the crime underworld. Sanji’s surprised they don’t see it as a slap in the face- maybe they do, but the strips continue to come out unchanged.

On the best days he laughs acridly at the insult it does his biological father, on the worst he bites his lip in anger that he and his crew have to be exposed to their existence.

Though…

He reads the title over again.

Even if it’s just some bullshit marine propaganda, the way they’ve named the main character who beats the evil Germa family again and again brings a small grin to his lips.

—

All in all, the various times his past had almost come out had been relatively easy to cover up.

The closest call, however, had been when they’d landed on an unsuspecting Spring island, a little too close to the North Blue for his liking.

Franky had stayed behind to work on the ship, but the rest of them had gone ahead and went inland to restock supplies, stretch their legs, and find what this island had to offer.

And for once, they'd decided to stick together instead of splitting up. Mainly because some signs around town had said something about a big festival taking place in the square, and Nami, Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper had convinced the last few less sociable crewmates to come along.

Despite the proximity to North Blue, Sanji wasn't actually that worried. He'd never heard of this island before, and he doubted his father would be anywhere near it either. Germa may be a wandering country, but it hadn't left the North Blue in a while as far as he knew, and at the moment they were still in the Grand Line.

So when they all walked up the brick path to the town square, finding before them a wonderful spread of tents, stages, and food stalls, he actually found himself a little excited. Good food, good entertainment, and- he squinted his eyes at the closest stage, where a group of women in traditional garb were performing a folk dance.

Beautiful women? Hell yea, maybe this pit stop would be worth it after all.

“Wow, this looks amazing!” Nami cried, clapping her hands together. “I wonder what it’s all for?”

Usopp jutted a hand over his shoulder. “I think one of the signs we passed said it’s somebody’s birthday. Probably one of the kingdom’s rulers, if I had to guess.”

“Usopp, look!” Chopper interjected, pulling lightly on the leg of the sharpshooter’s pants. “They have cotton candy!”

“Cotton Candy!?” Luffy grinned, patting his hat. He ran off like a cartoon character, leaving a trail of smoke and guffaws of laughter behind him. Usopp and Chopper followed behind.

“Wait! You guys don’t have any money!” Nami said, jogging after them with her Berry pouch already half-opened to loan some out (with interest).

Eventually, she’d caught them, and handed out a bit of Berry to the rest of the crew, too. She sent Zoro back to the ship to grab Franky, both so he wouldn’t miss out and so that Zoro wouldn’t get lost on his own. (If he could even make it back to the ship, anyway).

Then she and Robin began making rounds to all the shops and stalls while they waited, leaving Sanji to do whatever he liked by his lonesome.

And he had absolutely no problem with that.

Obviously, he went straight over to the dancers, making obnoxious heart-eyes in the audience while he watched.

Soon enough, though, he calmed down and ended up wandering the food stalls, trading recipes with the vendors and even picking up some local produce from others.

He'd spent nearly an hour doing so, occasionally running into another Strawhat or two, when a man stopped him near one of the textile stalls.

Sanji had been about to head back to the ship, looking over one last fancy gourd with a scrutable eye, when someone called out his name. Well, a name.

"Young Master Vinsmoke?"

Sanji felt his blood run cold. He snapped his head up, his eyes meeting a man he didn't recognize.

He looked friendly enough- actually, he looked quite pleased to see him. He was posed nervously, as if he couldn't believe what was before him.

Now that Sanji thought about it, he did look somewhat familiar- the frilly outfit and the pins, bobs, and needles stuck into his pin-cushion bottoms. Some measuring tape hung loosely from a pack on his side, and bifocal glasses sat atop his head.

Not familiar enough, though. And Sanji didn't care who the hell he was, not after calling him that.

"Are you talking to me?" Sanji asked, cold anger already growing, though at the moment he was trying to keep his cool.

The man shook his head in amazement. "It is you, isn't it? Young Master Sanji? Why, they told me you'd died!"

Sanji just gaped at him, his latest cigarette falling gracelessly out of his mouth.

He suddenly grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged the two of them behind the nearest stall, to an unoccupied alleyway nearby. The man squeaked in surprise, which Sanji ignored.

"Who the hell are you?" He gritted out, suddenly realizing his friends could be nearby. He prayed nobody had heard them. After last time, there'd be no way he'd be able to sweep it under the rug again.

"O-Oh, you don't remember me! My apologies, sir. I'm Taloose. I work as a royal tailor. I worked for your family when you were young, Mr. Vinsmoke.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT.” Sanji growled, resisting the urge to pull the man up by the lapels of his frilly suit. He knew the other man didn’t know any better, but it still pissed him off.

Taloose squeaked again. “I’m sorry, sir!”

Sanji let out an irritated breath. “And stop calling me sir.” He grumbled, though with considerably less bite.

“I don’t answer to that name anymore, and I’m not a prince either. So just Sanji is fine.”

The tailor seemed hesitant to comply, but he nodded, silently.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence then. Sanji did recognize him, now that he thought about it. He barely saw the guy- maybe every couple months when he was really young, coming in to fix up little suits for special events for him and his siblings. At that age Sanji was still quite friendly, despite the abuse, but he didn’t form close bonds with the various workers at the beck and call of the Vinsmokes. If anything, he was too focused on his mother’s health and his failings in training. Any memories of this guy were quick snippets and stills of standing on a platform with measuring tape around his waist, and little else.

Realizing the silence had stretched a bit too far, Sanji figured he should probably say something. He had dragged the guy back here, after all.

“Tell me…If you worked for my family, then what are you doing here?” He tried not to let his anxiety seep into his question.

“Well, I’m a traveling tailor. I serve many royal families, including the family here. I helped craft the princess’s dress for this party, as well as some of the other family members. Once I was done, I decided I’d stop by and peruse the textile booths around the market- quite a fine selection if I do say so myself-!” He watched Sanji’s face become irritated and decided to shut up. “But, yes. Just here for the event, really.”

Sanji eyed him carefully. “Do you…still work for my family?”

Taloose shook his head. “No, actually. I don’t mean to flatter you, but you were always my favorite of the Vinsmoke children. Miss Reiju was alright, but the other three boys were quite rude, and with age they only got worse.” He made an unsettled face, as if to imply ‘rude’ wasn’t the full extent of it.

“It became increasingly difficult to work with them, and my work reflected that. I was on the verge of quitting anyway when your father fired me. I wasn’t qualified to be sewing raid suits anyway.” He scoffed.

“So you don’t have contact with them any more? You won’t tell them that you met me here?” Now his voice was betraying his anxiety, but he didn’t care.

Taloose just shook his head, smiling kindly. “No sir. I wouldn’t go back even if they paid me a million berries!” He said, standing tall and adjusting his frilly collar with pride.

Sanji felt himself relax a bit. He nevertheless pulled a new cigarette from the pack in his front pocket.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where they are nowadays, would you?” He asked after a drag. His fingers twitched ever so slightly despite the coolness he now desperately attempted to front.

Taloose was luckily a man without judgement. He shook his head gently. “No, I don’t have a clue. Hard to tell with the place always on the move.” He paused then, looking over Sanji with keen eyes.

“...I can tell you don’t wish to see them again. I apologize if my presence here made you uncomfortable. I assure you, I haven’t had contact with the Vinsmoke family in years. Should for whatever reason I come into contact with them again, I will not reveal your presence.” He says, bowing. “I promise.” A smile graces his face within the bow.

Sanji grumbles as he grabs Taloose by his collar, yanking him up to stand again. “Ya don’t gotta bow to me, idiot.”

“...But I appreciate that. Thanks.”

—

Sanji and Taloose part ways after that.

He’s glad to be rid of the reminder of his past, glad to have the reassurance the Vinsmokes aren’t actively searching for him or anything- but still troubled to have these memories brought back yet again. Running from your past is easy until you’re traveling the world with infamy, and suddenly the spotlight seems to put you back on the radar of harm long thought dead.

Make no mistake, Sanji didn’t regret his choice to join the Strawhats in the slightest. But he was beginning to wonder how much longer he could conceivably keep this secret.

It’s two years before it finally comes back to bite him in the ass.

—

“Hey, guys? The News Coo just dropped off a letter with the paper, but I think it was a mistake. It’s not addressed to any of us.”

Everyone’s heads pop up from their respective locations around the ship, peeking at Nami and the stack of papers now held in her hand. Luffy swings over from his spot on the figurehead.

“What’s it say!? Open it!” He yells excitedly, now looking down over her shoulder at it himself.

“You can’t open someone else’s mail, Luffy, it’s against the law.”

“We’re pirates!” He retorts, and for once Nami feels silly, realizing he’s right in this matter. She purses her lips and eyeballs it again, some recognition starting to come to her face.

Sanji has come down from the galley by now, hands in his pocket as he and most of the rest of the crew approaches the only entertainment they’ve had so far on an unusually boring day of sailing.

“Who’s it addressed to?” Robin asks.

“Vinsmoke.” Nami says simply, and Sanji actually staggers in his place on the deck.

“Strangely enough, isn’t that the villain from that popular comic in the newspaper sometime? Why on Earth would someone try to send a fake character a letter? And how’d we end up with it?” Nami continues, though Sanji doesn’t hear her. He’s too busy falling into the depths of a panic attack here and now.

He’d say that his stomach dropped when he heard her say the name, that his blood ran cold, but with his worst trauma suddenly cropping up in front of him in real life, truly occurring and unable to be stopped, right before the gaze of his crew, his family- he just feels nothing. A switch flips in him and all he feels his nothingness, and then pure hot fear.

“...Sanji? Are you okay?” Chopper asks from beside him, his kind face full of worry at the cook’s near instant reaction. He looks pale, his face is staring straight down at the deck like if he doesn’t look up it isn’t real, and from this angle Chopper can actually see both of his eyes for once, and they’re both blown wide and full of fear.

But he doesn’t answer, because as Chopper asks this Nami slips her thumb under the fold of the envelope and is about to rip it open, and Sanji lurches forward and has to stop himself from Diable Jambe-ing Nami’s hands and burning the letter to ash. He still does something quite out of character for him when it comes to the redheaded woman- which is that he actually yells at her to stop.

Nami, and everyone else, for that matter, freezes.

“Sanji?” Nami asks, incredulous, and a little worried.

He settles for taking it from her hands, as gently as he can manage, which is not at all.

“Don’t.” He says darkly, even though he already has the letter safely in his own hands.

Everyone is silent. They all expect someone to break the silence and yell about not being rude to Nami, but the person they expect to do so is standing right in front of them, doing exactly that. Sanji sighs, and without looking at his crew, slowly rips open the letter.

He looks it over, eyeing it as if he’s in his own pocket dimension at the moment, and no one else is there. Then, when he’s read the contents, he pauses, folds the letter, and sticks it in the pocket of his slacks.

Everyone is waiting with a question on their lips when he finally looks up again, but no one says anything, even Luffy.

Then Sanji sighs, and crosses his arms. He looks all of a sudden more nervous and unsure of himself than they’ve seen him since before Saboady, maybe even since they’ve met him.

“Do you guys remember…back in Skypiea, when we found the book Liar Noland?”

It seems an odd place to start, but they all give various sorts of a nod.

“And I told you all how I was actually born in the North Blue.” He says, reaching an arm up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. He really wished he had a cigarette right now, but he didn’t want to interrupt by lighting one.

They nod again, aside from Franky and Brook, who hadn’t been on the crew yet at that time.

“Well…” He can’t help it anymore. Quicker than they’ve ever seen him do it before, he slips a cig from his pack and lights it with ease, pulling some smoke out of it like he’s thirsty for it. They’ve all started to put pieces together by now, or at the very least, realize he’s about to open up to them about something quite big.

“My real name…No. My birth name is Vinsmoke Sanji.” He says, wincing at the words put together outloud. “And I’m…I was a prince.”

Everyone’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes widening; save for Zoro and Luffy, who stay relatively straight-faced, listening intently.

“I left when I was 8. I snuck onto a cruise ship, and then Zeff found me.” He continues, mincing the more ugly details that he doesn’t quite feel ready to tell them yet. He doesn’t want this to become a sob story.

“Basically, I’m a runaway prince. Though my father told everyone I was dead anyway…” He sucks in another breath full of smoke. He keeps stuttering and trailing off in his words in a way that so isn’t like him, it’s making him sick. He just wants to get this over with.

“The point is, this letter…It’s for me. I’ve been invited back…”

For a moment, Sanji considers not telling them the truth. He doesn’t want to put them in danger, he doesn’t want them to pity him, he doesn’t want them to feel the need to help him, to do so because he’s too weak to do it himself.

But he also trusts them. More than anyone else in the world, save for his father. His real father.

“For an arranged marriage to one of Big Mom’s daughters.” He grits out, biting down on his cigarette with distaste.

Usopp looks ready to burst with questions, Nami and Robin are incredulous, and even Zoro looks vaguely emotive. Franky and Chopper and Brook are just waiting for someone else to say something first.

But Luffy is, strangely enough, smiling. He adjusts the position of the straw hat on his head, ensuring it’s nice and tight. Then he gives Sanji a grin.

“I’ve been waiting for a reason to pick a fight with Big Mom.” He says.

And somehow, that’s the most reassuring thing he could have heard Luffy say to all of that.

#one piece #one piece spoilers #i am a new fan from the live action. but if u are a new fan from the live action. dont read this unless ur okay with spoilers #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #op #my writing #fic #fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #whole cake island #whole cake arc #whole cake spoilers #kinda. barely #strawhat pirates #the pacing in this is a little off and the ending is Eh but otherwise im pretty happy w this. yippee #cross posted on ao3

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onceuponalegendbg · 9 months

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RainCode Drabble (With the Flip of a Coin)

So... this one has an abrupt end. I could not figure out for the life of me how to end this but this had made it’s way into my head so I had to write it down. As ya’ll have probably gathered, this game has become the new fixation for me. Enjoy!

Halara knows the moment it happens.

They’d honestly been expecting it much sooner, but of course this is the one time the Chief decides to be stubborn, decides he’d rather fight that much longer. So Halara helps him, free of charge. They don’t want him to go before the boys return.

Despite their efforts, however; they can pinpoint the exact moment that plan fails. Still, they keep pressing on the man’s chest. They should stop. There’s no point anymore.

But Fubuki and Desuhiko are barely keeping calm now, their feelings radiating off them in waves. Neither are making any attempts to hide it. Fubuki’s guilt is drawn like a map on her face, a map that Halara could easily follow each thought to their proper conclusion. The heiress has always been unbearably honest, but now there’s not even the pretense of ignorance for her to hide behind.

Desuhiko, similarly, holds nothing back. He paces and fidgets with his hands, his leg bouncing when he does finally stand still. Always moving, constantly shooting the two bodies in the corner an impatient glance.

So Halara keeps doing compressions.

“Halara, I would like to be of assistance. Do you require a break?”

Fubuki’s wavering, soft voice breaks through the near silence. Halara doesn’t stop even as they observe the girl’s clenched hands as they shake. They see it. Fubuki feels useless. She wants to help. To do something. Halara can at least respect that. However, the moment Halara cedes control is the moment everyone else learns the truth. They’ll find out eventually, of that there is no doubt, but Halara feels the need to postpone that discovery just a bit longer, until the team is all back together again.

“I hate wasting time. I have it.”

Fubuki’s shoulders droop further. “Oh. Right.” She believes so easily the partial lie that slips off Halara’s tongue, is crushed at being rendered ineffective and unnecessary once again.

“Don’t worry, Princess. If anyone can keep up the pace it’s them.” Desuhiko offers his best attempt at a smile and thumbs up, and if it was any other time Halara would have scoffed at his weak poker face and misguided trust. Now isn’t the time though, so they let it slide.

The steady rhythm of the compressions helps to keep them busy but doesn’t stop them from making note of the corpse’s condition. Skin as pale as paper, the warmth already having faded considerably. If left alone it wouldn’t take long for rigor mortis to set in. There’s really nothing left of the Chief in this husk. Halara can’t quite nail down the emotion this observation evokes.

Then finally, after what feels like an eternity, Halara is allowed to stop.

Yuma and Vivia return, and with them comes the truth. Fubuki shoots straight into denial, already moving to use her Forte before Desuhiko stops her. After all, rewinding time won’t help them, and will just put the Chief back into the pain of a slow death.

Vivia turns to leave, not before Halara catches the look on his face. It’s dark and heavy, even if his tone had reflected none of it.

Then there’s Yuma who doesn’t look surprised at the news, just tired and lost as his friends grieve around him.

All Halara can do is take a breath and try to push them forward for now.

It’s not until they’re all back at the office that the rest of the truth comes out. All of it. How Chief Yakou had murdered Huesca, how he’d used each of them and their abilities to pull it off without their knowledge. How he’d hired a hitman to cover up the fact that he was dying from the toxic gas protecting the doctor.

The stoic Master Detective listens to the chaos unfolding around them, brought forth mainly from Fubuki and Desuhiko while Halara stares at the Chief’s vacant desk. They didn’t trust people. They just didn’t, hadn’t since they were a child. Halara certainly hadn’t truly trusted the Chief. Yet, they’d never suspected he’d been capable of something like this. Maybe that was what stung the most. That Halara, who prided themselves on their skeptical nature along with their deductive and observational skills, hadn’t seen this coming.

Yes. That must be it. Obviously.

“Stupid Chief. Thinking he had to do this alone… That he couldn’t talk to us…” Desuhiko mutters to himself, smaller frame shaking as he glares at the ground.

Fubuki is still in shock, no doubt horrified by the realization that Chief Yakou had died every time they’d turned back time during their break in of Huesca’s office. Her skin is pale, and her body stiff. She hasn’t stopped crying.

Halara wonders if this is the first time any of them have dealt with betrayal to this scale, with the feeling of being used. They’d give the man this, he’d had more spine than they’d originally thought.

Hands gripping at their jacket sleeves, Halara tries to sort through their thoughts while they can. There will be no rest once they contact the WDO and report all this after all.

#spoilers #rain code #raincode #master detective archives: rain code #master detective archive #halara nightmare #fubuki clockford #desuhiko thunderbolt #yuma kokohead #vivia twilight #yakou furio #writing

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tintinology · 1 year

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ok so hear me out: Haddotin Zorro AU

I know this is like lowkey super niche, especially because I’m thinking of the 1919 book, not the movies, but I think this can really work!! Though tbh I can’t decide who I want more as Zorro, because I feel like both Tintin and Haddock could pull it off, since they’ve both got a strong sense of justice and wanting to do what’s right.

But consider this:

You’ve got double identities, Zorro pretending to be something completely different from his true personality during the day, then going out at night to stop bad guys and defend people who are being taken advantage of

You’ve got the love interest that feels absolutely nothing towards Zorro’s fake persona but who absolutely falls in love with dashing, flirty Zorro without making the connection between the two

And you’ve got a villain who’s obviously a criminal but who’s also interested in the love interest and absolutely despises Zorro and wants him dead. Whether or not he has further designs on the love interest (getting his hands on a buried treasure inside a particular estate for example) kinda depends on who the love interest is, I guess

And then the reveal at the end with the love interest confessing his love for Zorro and Zorro confesses to being the useless guy he initially despised, and now of course the love interest respects him because he sees what he’s truly like!!!!

Oh, and of course, there’s a useless policeman (or two in this case), whose whole mission is to capture Zorro and who are absolutely terrible at doing that, and coincidentally are also good friends with Zorro’s fake persona (which Zorro uses to get info that can help him catch criminals or evade the police)

As for who would be Zorro, like I said, both could work, though they’d obviously go about hiding their identity in different ways:

On one hand, Tintin as Zorro would probably have a super naive fake persona who acts that way to convince everyone he’s younger and less of a threat than he really is, and probably writes for a gossip or a fashion column, something that is seen as pretty inconsequential. But then at night he takes down bad guys and also exposes them publicly through a newspaper column that he writes anonymously. I could see him using his full name for his fake persona, and then going as ‘Tintin’ when wearing the mask (I don’t see the point of keeping the Zorro name really, cuz it wouldn’t make sense in this concept but whatever)

On the other hand, Haddock as Zorro would probably lean on everyone’s assumptions that he’s a useless drunk (in reality he drinks a lot less than he lets on) and his general fussiness about his appearance and inability to ride a horse convince everyone he’s kind of useless. Meanwhile Haddock is out every night hunting down criminals that take advantage of vulnerable people, maybe using Sir Francis’ outfits or his name at least to hide his identity

#i have thought about this way too much and now im gonna inflict it on all of you #lmao i lowkey have both concepts completely plotted out #i just think its neat!!!#part of me wants haddock as zorro because haddock with a sword is excellent #but if youve got haddock as the love interest and sakharine as the villain trying to seduce him so he can get at red rackhams treasure?#even better #tintin #captain haddock #haddotin #the adventures of tintin #zorro au #au

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aurumacadicus · 2 years

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Featheruary Part 10 (Edited)

Don’t forget to black list ‘long post’ if you don’t want to see my long posts! This is short enough I’m not putting it under a cut. You can find part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here, part 6 here, part 7 here, part 8 here, and part 9 here.

I have seen the mistake of posting this in parts. I can’t tell if my pacing is working. Anyway, Thor has decided to put everyone out of their misery and use his many centuries of being alive to cajole some sense out of Tony, because every time he talks to Bucky, Bucky ignores him in favor of baking Tony cakes. Bucky (and I) firmly believe that love is stored in the calorie.

Tony hadn’t given Bucky an answer, and he knew he’d have to give him one eventually. He just needed to figure out how he felt.

He knew he had a crush on Bucky. He had crushes on a lot of people. It wasn’t unusual. What had Bucky said? Starved of affection? Tony supposed it was the same for him. He was so lonely growing up, always wondering if he was being used (or being so expertly used he didn’t know until it was over). He could count on one hand the number of true-blue friends he’d had until he was forty. He’d always had a crush on his friends, simply because they were the only people consistently nice to him. He grew out of them, mostly.

But he thought maybe, he didn’t want to grow out of this one.

Bucky had given him time. He’d let him lick his wounds and heal. But he also hadn’t let him stew too long, either. Tony found that he liked that. A lot. Most times, he found his partners wanting him to change his schedule for them, push for too much, too soon. Even with Pepper, in what felt like it could have been an organic way, had been too fast, looking back at it. They’d thought because of their friendship, they could skip steps. Maybe that was why they hadn’t worked out in the long run.

Bucky had let him think, though, really consider how he wanted things to go. He’d also made it very clear that he wanted an answer eventually, though. The ‘take as long as you need, but be aware of my needs as well’ had been… nice. And he found himself wanting to take as little time as possible, so Bucky wouldn’t have to suffer in the interim, wondering what he was thinking.

“Is this what mutual respect is supposed to be like?” Tony wondered, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Thor turned from where he was making scrambled eggs, face stony. “Did I hear that question correctly?”

“You know my tragic backstory already,” Tony answered defensively.

“I am standing here, minding my own business, and you are suddenly struck with what mutual respect is supposed to be at forty—”

“—Ish,” Tony cut in.

“—ish years old,” Thor finished agreeably. Tony pointed at the pan, and he stirred his eggs without looking back at them, frowning at Tony in concern. “Have we not treated you with respect, Tony? Did we do something wrong?”

“Oh, I, uh,” Tony stuttered. He fidgeted with his mug. Took a nervous sip. “I meant… like, in a romantic relationship.”

Somehow, Thor’s frown went sadder. “Tony.”

“Listen, I don’t—want to talk about my past? Right now?” Tony said, slowly sidling away from him. Maybe, if he was careful about it, he could hide from him before he could finish cooking and eating his eggs. “I’m just saying. I like how Bucky treated me. That’s all.” Thor reached out to clamp a hand on his shoulder and force him to sit on one of the stools at the island. Tony sighed, defeated, and sagged onto it, turning to put his mug on the counter. “Are you going to get on my ass about him, too?”

“No. Sit there for a moment,” Thor said shortly. He turned back to his eggs.

Tony perked up when he saw Thor grabbing down two plates, and smiled when Thor set one of them in front of him. “For me?”

“You’re less likely to run if you’ve got food that doesn’t travel well in front of you,” Thor deadpanned.

Tony considered dumping the eggs in his mug of coffee and running just to spite, except it looked like Thor had stirred ham and cheese into them while cooking, and he thought it might be nice to sit and enjoy them. “Okay,” he admitted, reaching for the fork Thor handed him.

Thor waited for him to take a bite before he turned to his own plate. “So you like the way Bucky treated you?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, slowing down his chewing. Still, he couldn’t really see where Thor was going with the question, so he swallowed and reluctantly answered, “Yeah. He’s not pushy or greedy at all. He lets me think things through instead of getting impatient and demanding answers. He did mention capitalism to me though,” he added petulantly to himself. “I hate when Steve does that. Now there are two of them.”

“I’ll throw them both into the ceiling at training next time,” Thor offered.

Tony fist pumped. He wondered if that should be his first reaction, except Steve had squawked helplessly until he’d gotten down, and he’d gotten plenty of good video and pictures. He probably should not be excited. But that had never stopped him before, he decided.

“So?” Thor asked, leaning his elbow on the counter and placing his head on his fist. He poked at his eggs idly. “Aside from the capitalism stuff? Is that enough to deter you?”

Tony thought about it. Honestly, it seemed like it was something that Bucky wouldn’t harp on. If it came up, he could just do what he did with Steve, which was tune him out and think about other things. Besides, that hadn’t really been the problem at all. “I… want to get to know him better,” he finally said. “But Bucky… what if I don’t live up to his expectations?”

“Do you think his expectations of you are too high?” Thor asked patiently, taking a bite of his eggs.

Tony frowned down at his plate, remembering what Bucky had said. “I just… he said he liked me because he knew I wouldn’t treat him like glass on his bad days. He knew that after I bodychecked him in the middle of a panic attack.”

Thor said nothing for a few minutes, but Tony couldn’t tell if that was because he was focusing on eating or because he was thinking. Finally, though, Thor said, “Is he expecting you to continue to bodycheck him?”

“No,” Tony answered immediately, and then squinted in thought, because Bucky had never actually said that. “No? I honestly hope not.”

“Do you suppose he’s expecting you to continue not to treat him like glass?” Thor asked. “Could you do that?”

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, really giving it some thought. Could he do that? He was a fixer. It was what he liked to do. But he was also vaguely allergic to emotions. He thought about what he would do if Bucky was there, now, curling up against the counter, gripping his hands into fists and relaxing over and over, breath coming in sharp hisses between his teeth.

He imagined he’d… wait. Until Bucky told him what he wanted him to do. He wouldn’t want to touch him when he was possibly dangerous—Bucky had felt so guilty the first time he realized he had struck Steve so hard after a panic attack that he’d fractured Steve’s arm and his own hand, and Tony was a lot more fragile. And he knew that Bucky had been working with a therapist on coping mechanisms, counting or breathing or something like that. So. He didn’t really worry about him like that. Didn’t really feel he had to.

“I… suppose I could,” Tony finally said.

Thor smiled a little. “Do you want to?”

“I… yes,” Tony said. He shrugged uncomfortably. “I… want to learn more about him. He’s patient with me, even when I’m… being especially me some days.”

“I think you secretly like when he just lies on the floor and sighs,” Thor said, but the accusation in his voice sounded amused rather than angry.

Tony spread his hands. “I mean, I lived through those things, right?! I wouldn’t be me without them.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Thor allowed. “And it has made you who you are. It’s just the coping mechanisms we worry about, personally.”

“That’s fair,” Tony muttered, wilting in defeat.

“Good morning,” Bucky said as he came into the kitchen. He stopped. Stared. Turned a disgruntled look on Thor. “You made Tony breakfast.”

Thor didn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I haven’t had a good talk with Tony in a while.”

“I was going to make Tony breakfast,” Bucky muttered mulishly, finally coming further into the room. “I’ve been making him meals for weeks now. It’s my job.”

“Uh huh,” Thor replied, amused.

Bucky came over to look at their plates, giving Thor a scowl. “I would have made him something fancier than this. He deserves fancy fruit salads and pancakes. Stuffed French toast. A caramel latte.”

“Tony is a simple man,” Thor said.

Tony looked back and forth between them, confused. “You could… top off my coffee?” he offered hesitantly.

“You’ve relegated me to diner waitress,” Bucky told Thor, glaring at him, before snatching the mug when Tony frowned and reached out to pull it back in apology. He pointed into Tony’s face sternly. “No, I’m doing it. Back off.” He glared at Thor again. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did you seriously tell Tony that his heart was as big as his ass?” Thor asked, raising an eyebrow, and watched, unrepentant, as Bucky crumpled to the ground with a shout. He leaned over to look at him, frowning. “Well. I can’t say you don’t deserve to feel a little ashamed of it. Some things are inside thoughts.”

“Do you have inside thoughts about me?” Tony asked, looking up at Thor as he stood from the stool.

Thor sighed, half put-upon, half amused. “Everyone has inside thoughts about other people, Tony.” When Tony only frowned at him, brows furrowed together, he sighed again and added, “Yes. I have inside thoughts about you.”

“I don’t have inside thoughts,” Tony said after a moment, a tinge of suspicion in his voice.

“We are aware, Tony. We wish you would sometimes,” Thor told him patiently as he went to go put his plate in the sink.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, nose wrinkling a bit, before he shrugged it off. “I don’t know how.”

“We are aware of that too,” Thor replied. He walked over to gently clasp his shoulder. “I’m going to leave now, mostly because I think Bucky might try and stab me. He’s not as durable as my brother and I forget not to throw him as hard as I would Loki.” He waved over his shoulder as he walked out. “Give my regards to Bucky when he gets off the floor.”

“Siblings are weird!” Tony called after him. “And thanks for the talk, I guess! Does this mean Clint or Bruce are next?”

“I doubt it. They’re both just as allergic to feelings as you are.”

Tony shrugged with a vague little ‘eh’ and turned to look down at Bucky, who was still on the floor. He had rolled onto his back, though, covered in coffee and clutching Tony’s empty mug to his chest. “You okay? If you want to make me something to eat, that’s fine, I guess. I’d really just like my cup of coffee though.”

“Do you think it’s possible that I can ever live this down?” Bucky asked, not moving from the floor.

“I have full faith in you that you’ll say something else that’s even more embarrassing,” Tony told him sympathetically.

“God,” Bucky groaned, finally moving to cover his face. “Please, no. I couldn’t stand it.”

Tony reached for his mug. Bucky dropped one hand to clamp around the ceramic, glaring at him out of his uncovered eye. Tony reluctantly pulled his hand back.

“…Anyway,” Tony said, picking up his fork to fiddle with. He looked down at his empty plate, pushing a tiny sliver of ham around. “I, um. I was thinking.”

Bucky sat up immediately. “Yeah?”

“You said that… you’d like the opportunity to fall in love with me,” Tony said slowly, setting his fork down so that he didn’t accidentally drop it and ruin his train of thought.

“Basically, yeah,” Bucky replied, shrugging a little.

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek anxiously, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. “Maybe… Maybe I’d like the opportunity to fall in love with you, too.” He glanced at Bucky out of the corner of his eye nervously.

Just in time to watch Bucky’s lips spreading into a wide, goofy smile.

“Are you saying I can take you out?” Bucky asked, breathless with excitement.

Tony turned to blink at him, frowning in confusion. “You could have always taken me out. In any sense of the word.”

“Stop making death jokes,” Bucky ordered, more on instinct than actual distress. “But I mean—if we were out, and people asked, I could say you were my fella?”

Tony sucked in a breath and ignored the fact that it was a little shaky. He wasn’t scared. Except that he kind of was. “If you want.”

Bucky paused, then carefully stood up, reaching out to put his hand on top of one of Tony’s. “What’s causin’ you pause, doll?”

“I…” Tony began weakly. He stared at Bucky’s hand on top of his. He wasn’t gripping. Tony could pull his hand away, if he really wanted to (but he didn’t really want to). It just felt… nice. He looked back up at Bucky, shrugging uncomfortably. “I just… don’t have a great track record for this type of thing, I guess. I… I’m just worried… you’ll realize you don’t like me, once you get to know me more.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Bucky told him firmly. “I don’t do anything by halves, including falling head over heels. Nothing you’ve done has scared me off yet. Even that time that you bodychecked me while I was having a panic attack.” He smiled a little. “I feel like that’s something that woulda scared off the average guy.”

“Probably,” Tony answered, shrugging bashfully.

Bucky smirked. “Luckily, I’m not the average guy. And you know? I think you aren’t either, so I don’t have to worry about you bein’ freaked out by shit I do, too.” He carefully reached out to flip Tony’s hand over, so he could lace their fingers together. “Can I take you out to breakfast?”

Tony glanced down at his plate, then looked up at Bucky again, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe we could do lunch instead? It would give you time to shower,” he added, staring at the coffee stains on his clothes.

Bucky looked down at himself. His shirt had large brown stains on it. His pants had a few spots on them, but ultimately looked like they’d been spared most of the coffee. He’d stepped one foot into a puddle of coffee that hadn’t been sopped up by Bucky’s shirt, and that sock was drenched in brown. He looked back up at Tony. “Fine, but I get to pick the place.”

“I literally do not care what kind of food it is as long as calories are going into my face hole,” Tony said. “I have a favorite food in most restaurants.”

“Please do not call it your face hole ever again,” Bucky replied in the kindest way possible.

“Fine, but only because your face was very unattractive in response,” Tony answered.

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again with a fond sigh, shaking his head a little. “I’ll get you a new cup of coffee,” he said, instead of whatever he’d been about to. “Then go get cleaned up. Wanna look my best for my best fella.”

Tony looked down at his feet and smiled a little, trying not to show how pleased it made him. He peeked back up as Bucky came back, carefully balancing a new mug full of coffee between both hands, watching his feathers ruffle along his wings with pleasure—whether from being able to do something for him, or because he was still happy about him being willing to try, he couldn’t tell.

Maybe he didn’t need to, Tony thought, reaching out to carefully set his cup on the counter. He turned and took Bucky’s hands in his and, when Bucky only tipped his head in confusion, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he lifted his own wings, stretching them up, up, up, high enough that his primaries brushed the light fixtures over the island. His feathers spread, trembling, inviting.

“Tony,” Bucky whispered, and then there was the sound of glass breaking, and Tony opened his eyes to find that Bucky had swung his wings up as well, heedless of whatever would be in their way, and had knocked one of the pendant lights down. He didn’t look like he cared, wings spreading wide and high, eyes only on Tony’s face.

“I’m gonna be fucking insufferable about this. You thought it was bad when I punched Steve in the throat? I’m gonna be crowing about this so much that everyone on this team wants to strangle me,” Bucky said, voice thick, and Tony threw his head back and laughed in delight.

#aurumacadicus writes #winteriron #featheruary #wing fic #long post

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senjuushi · 2 years

Text

Whumptober — Day 11

Prompt: Self-Done First Aid

Character: Siegblut

Getting hurt is nothing new. With the way guns are expected to fight, there’s no avoiding some injuries here and there. Weapons that can be healed, even re-summoned, are more disposable than humans. That’s just a fact of life. Siegblut doesn’t expect anything better by now. Just as his Masters are consumable items, he’s meant to be pushed to his limit.

This time, though, he was stupid. He’s hurt because he fucked up, and telling anyone about the nasty gashes along his stomach and side would be asking to get made fun of. He’d be lucky if anyone decided the wounds were worth properly treating, anyway, so he resolves to deal with it on his own.

It’s not worth the mockery that admitting to his fuck-up would earn.

Patching himself up is rough. Everything hurts, and the awkward angle makes it hard to tell if the wound is even clean. Still, he stitches up the bigger of the gashes to the best of his ability and bandages both of them.

Now, it’s just a matter of waiting out the pain until his body heals. He can do that. He’s tough. He’s been through plenty worse before.

Unfortunately, Siegblut’s body seems to have other ideas. Days later, he’s still hurting just as badly as before, and he still can’t tell anyone. If he brings it up now, after he’s probably fucked something up for real, the consequences wouldn’t be pleasant. His rotten luck has come back to bite him yet again, and the stabbing pain whenever he so much as stands up is starting to be a problem. Eventually, someone is going to notice.

If his luck continues to be shit, it’ll be Herme. Or maybe Dreyse. Either one of those two would be damn miserable to deal with. They’d report it to a superior in no time, and then everyone would know about his latest failure.

So, fearing punishment and mockery, Siegblut does what he can to push through the pain and act normal. He’ll be fine. Somehow, he’ll be fine.

Or at least, that’s what he hopes right up until you notice.

You, his relatively new Master, too fresh-faced and naive to realize what you are to him, drag him aside one day after a training session, a worried look etched on your face that doesn’t sit well with Siegblut at all. “Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain,” you ask, and for once, there’s no condescending tone or cruel smirk barely hidden behind the question.

“I’m fine. Mind your own business,” he says and tries to walk away. You catch his hand in yours and don’t let him go, and Siegblut fights to ignore the aching little spark of need that even the small touch lights.

“I don’t think you are. Would you please tell me the truth?” you ask, so innocent and genuine that Siegblut can’t keep his mouth shut.

That’s how he winds up in the nearest infirmary, thankfully empty, with you insisting that he take off his shirt and let you look at the wounds. He should resist you. He should walk away. He really should, and yet—

He does it. Even as shame creeps up his insides, he does it.

You wince when you see the bloody wounds, but you don’t look angry. Just... worried, still. It’s weird, and even weirder is what comes next. “Stay still. I’m going to take care of those,” you say, like it makes perfect sense for you to be the one to clean up his stupid mess. Siegblut doesn’t have time to protest until you’re sitting back down, first-aid supplies in your hands.

“Isn’t there someone else who should be doing this?” he snaps at you, trying to hide the spike of nervousness that hits. “Maybe an actual medic?”

“There has to be a reason why you didn’t tell the actual medics,” is your infuriatingly perceptive response. Siegblut grumbles under his breath, but you keep talking, undeterred. “These don’t exactly look fresh, you know. Whatever that reason is, if you can’t tell anyone, I’ll help you myself.”

And you do exactly that. You pick out his earlier, clumsy stitches with a steadying hand resting on his hip, then dab at the still un-scabbed mess with cotton balls and antiseptic that by some miracle doesn’t burn like the stuff that usually gets dumped on his wounds. Your work is slow and careful, not rushing or trying to cause pain, and Siegblut quickly realizes that he’s way out of his depth with this one. No one is ever gentle with him— with any of them. He’s a weapon, not a person, so there’s no reason to bother.

Like this, with his Master doing more to look after him than anyone has in longer than he can remember, Siegblut is starting to have problems. Even though it hurts to have you prodding at the wounds, the weapon part of his brain can only register that Master is touching him. Master, with gentle hands and no intention to cause more pain. It borders on unbelievable. He’s quickly finding himself delirious under the non-stop touch. Desperate.

By the time his body is going slightly limp, Siegblut is barely conscious of how ashamed he should be. Your hands are all over his stomach and chest, even resting comfortingly on his forearm when something particularly painful makes him gasp. You’re stitching up the wounds properly now, and—

This is what it feels like to want contact to never end.

Even though he wasn’t grateful at all, even though he didn’t do anything good enough to earn it, you’re still being gentle with him. Even though you’re a consumable object that he’ll use up and kill, in the end, you’re still going out of your way to make sure he’s not hurting.

It’s a surreal scenario, only made worse by the way you keep talking to him in sweet little whispers that have his stomach twisted up in knots.

“It’s almost done, okay? I know it hurts. I’m almost done.”

There’s blood on your hands and concern in your eyes, but this moment still feels more tender than anything Siegblut’s ever known. And that only digs the guilt for what he’ll end up doing to you in deeper.

#Senjuushi #千銃士 #Siegblut #Fic #Whumptober

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skarmoree · 8 months

Text

midnight pharmacy (hit and) run

G, gen, neopolitan & roman torchwick

Roman's partner is feeling a little under the weather, as much as she tries to hide it from him.

written for @sicktember day 3: cramping pain, and day 20: hiding an illness

read here on ao3 / full fic under cut

“What are you, turtles?” Roman shouted, leaning back in his chair to watch the White Fang members move dust loads, “pick up the pace!”

Phase two. Move an entire warehouse worth of dust to a secondary location. Roman, as always, had found a way to weasel out of any heavy lifting, deciding to waste time instead by yelling at everyone else to get a move on.

Neo had found entertainment in plucking dirt specks off Roman’s hat, sitting on the table with her legs swinging gently.

“Really, Neo,” Roman commented to her, dropping his chair back onto all four legs, “you could’ve gone to supervise the other end.”

Neo straightened the feather.

When Cinder had sent the coordinates, Roman had been initially doubtful about any operation out of Mountain Glen working. What was a city abandoned to the Grimm going to do? And then he found they would be working from underground, with a handy path right underneath Vale itself, and things started to make a little more sense. What wasn’t making sense was Neo sticking by Roman’s side, knowing that he liked to have full control over their work, and leaving their new base’s supervision in someone else’s hands was… unlike her.

There was a heavy thud, and Roman’s head shot up. “You morons do realise you’re transporting live dust, correct?” he yelled over his shoulder, “try not to get us all killed!”

“Sorry sir!”

“If you’re sorry you won’t let it happen again!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a cigar.”

Neo transformed into that green lackey of Cinder’s, and mimed flicking a lighter.

“Curse that brat,” he muttered, “How didn’t I catch her dipping into my pocket?”

There was the tell-tale sound of Neo dropping the illusion, but if she responded any further, Roman didn’t see, leaning forwards so his elbows were on the table, still pinching his nose.

“They get harder to deal with every time, those kids,” he said, “and their boss— it’d be easier to pull this kinda thing off with all the details.”

Roman practically had all of Vale under his thumb. Cinder had other ideas. Bigger ideas.

He wasn’t fond of all of those said ideas, but money was money, no matter how dirty. Still, at least they provided him with the men needed to pull off whatever task they wanted— even if they were extremists from a human-hating organisation. But they did their jobs well enough, and ran cheaper than Junior’s hires— he’d daresay they were better too, even if just for the ability to work at night.

Roman sighed, straightening up so he could get to his feet, picking up his cane from beside him as he did so.

“I mean,” he continued, “they want me to speak at a rally? Me? I know I’m brilliantly persuasive when I need to be but come on— in front of a bunch of—” he broke off, waving his hand about vaguely.

“You never have to worry about this, of course,” Roman said idly, leaning on his cane to look to Neo, “consider yourself lucky.”

Neo pointed to herself innocently.

“Yes, you!” he replied, “though I do think an entire presentation led by you would be riveting, I fear I’d be the only one to keep up.”

Neo stuck her tongue out at Roman, setting his hat down and sliding off the table to cross the room to their pile of plans, underneath their lovingly annotated map. On top was the blueprint to the Paladin they’d managed to get their hands on, a scribble of Roman’s head in the cockpit. Neo had been very smug when she showed the art to Roman, and he proudly announced he would stick it to the fridge once they were done hiding out in this place.

Which wouldn’t be any time soon, going by the crawl the White Fang were moving at.

“We can’t move this by daylight without the cops swarming it instantly,” Roman shouted to nobody in particular, shoving a guy to move faster as he walked past, deftly grabbing a dust crystal and tucking it away into his own pocket. Easy. “and I’d rather take as little time as possible so we can get this show on the road.”

All the while, he watched Neo’s back, curiosity piqued. Though Neo wasn’t acting strangely, something felt… off. If it were anyone else, Roman would dare say they were being less chatty. But as it were, Neo was carrying on, business as usual.

There! She leant forwards, bracing her hands against the table for a moment before standing straight again.

“Say, Neo…” Roman began, and she swivelled on her heel to face him, one hand out for balance. He trained one eye to it, only to watch her seamlessly bring it up to sign a ‘what’, tipping her head to the side. He had to give her credit, she was good. “You feelin’ alright?”

She blinked at him, eyes switching colours. It was a trick she had picked up fairly recently, but it wouldn’t throw him off the scent. Another beat, and she gave him a wide grin, nodding firmly.

Then, she leant back against the table, crossing one foot over the other, watching him.

Classic standoff, then.

Roman leant back against his own table, letting his cane dangle from the wrist as he folded his arms. She mirrored the movement, catching on.

“You didn’t skip your way over there.”

Neo raised a single eyebrow, as if to say ‘I don’t have to skip everywhere, dummy’.

“You’ve been quieter.”

The eyebrow rose higher.

“In your own way,” Roman corrected, “are the extremists getting you down? Do you want to go on a good ol’ heist? Will that make you feel better?”

Neo shook her head, an exhale running through her whole body, shoulders deflating.

“But you love heists.”

She shrugged noncommittally, eyes returning to their natural sides, not bothering with keeping up her Semblance. She’d held onto that face earlier for an alarmingly short time, too.

Roman let out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I will have to make this robbery on my own, then.”

Neo waved goodbye, not rising to the bait.

“Come on, you always jump to join me!”

In any other circumstance, Neo would mock him literally, jumping up (or at the very least rise up onto her toes). She didn’t even do that; instead just flicking her wrist in the approximation of one.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

Neo’s answering glare was withering, and she held up eight fingers.

Roman gave a low whistle. “Eight, huh? Impressive. I only got two, myself.”

Neo pillowed her cheek on her hands.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

She waved around at the warehouse, containers being loaded onto ships, White Fang members pushing trolleys and crates. Then, in slow motion, she pointed out the window to the moon.

“Already late. Going to take all night.”

A nod.

“Then I’ll sleep through the day,” Roman said, “my schedule’s already ruined beyond repair at this poi— hey don’t turn this about on me!”

Neo Signed an ‘oops’.

Roman jabbed his cane through the air at her. “So if you’re not tired, then what’s the problem?”

She shook her head.

“You might be a professional liar, sweetheart, but you can’t fool me,”

The gesture Neo made with her hand needed no translation.

Roman gave an over-the-top gasp, dropping his cane back onto the ground, free hand pressed to his chest. “Oh, my poor, innocent eyes!” he cried, “how will I ever survive you saying such a thing?”

Neo leant further back against her table, hint of a smile on her face, but nothing more.

“I don’t want to have to keep needling you,” Roman said softly, voice carrying across the warehouse with ease, “but I am worried, miniboss.”

Nothing, not even a batted eyelid to the nickname.

He took a step forward. “We’ve always told each other everything,” he said, really pushing the softness in his tone. He had to sell this. “I know you. If you’re not well, I don’t want you to force yourself and make it worse.”

He took a few more steps, closing the gap between the two of them. Neo didn’t move, watching him approach. Another step, and he could see the tense line of her shoulders, the knit of her brow. She really was holding something back, and Roman watched her for a moment longer, trying to piece things together.

“Have you been drinking water?”

A nod.

“Eaten?”

Another nod, slower, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What,” Roman held his hands up in surrender, “are you gonna arrest me for expressing concern? I’ve committed worse crimes this week alone.”

She pursed her lips together, turning her face away. Roman took that as a sign to continue.

“Headache? Sore back? Heels hurting your feet?”

Neo pulled a face, before she transformed her face into her father’s. Roman let out an offended gasp.

“How dare you compare me to that man!”

She dropped the illusion, shoulders rising towards her ears. Was that too far?

Roman let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Wait, hold on—” he got out, “was that a ‘you're not my dad’?”

Neo stared at him for a beat, before she slowly nodded.

“Oh that’s hilarious,” Roman said, delighted, “he’d roll in his grave at it. Anyway, have you taken any painkillers for those cramps?”

She got halfway through another nod before she froze.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Roman spun to end up next to Neo, hiking himself half up onto the table, cane over his knees. “Really now, did you think I wouldn’t catch on?”

She humoured a so-so motion directed towards him. He sighed.

“Do you usually take painkillers?”

Neo pointedly refolded her arms at that, and Roman huffed out a noise halfway to a laugh, “it’s not a weakness to need them, you know. You’re as stubborn as they come, but if you need a little medical marvel to help you get through the day, I can’t blame you.”

Her shoulders lowered a little, and she shifted to face him a little more. He nodded down to his cane. “Please, Neo— I’m the last person who would deny aid.”

Neo’s expression softened, and Roman counted that as a victory. “So what do you need? Ibuprofen? Paracetamol? What’s that good shit called, codeine?

She shrugged in response, and Roman chuckled, “buyer’s discretion, alright.”

He went to move, but Neo tapped her wrist, where someone would usually wear a watch.

“I’m sure there’s a twenty-four hour pharmacy somewhere in the city,” Roman said. He crossed the room again, hooking his hat with the end of his cane as he walked past, setting it over his head. “Hold the fort. Make sure these animals don’t ruin all our hard work.”

Neo stomped twice to get his attention as he reached for the door handle, and Roman turned to look at her over his shoulder. “No, I’m not actually buying them, what do you take me for?”

Satisfied, Neo nodded, before slouching.

“Really weighing on you, huh?” Roman said, somewhat of a fond smile flitting over his face. He reached into his pocket, warmth from the fire dust crystal blooming in his hand, even through his glove. They had a warehouse full of the stuff; nobody was gonna notice one teeny tiny crystal go temporarily missing. And hey— it was for a good cause.

“Here, catch,” he called, throwing it towards Neo. With her quick reflexes she caught it easily, blinking at Roman in confusion.

“Heat helps. Take it easy while I’m gone, miniboss— no world domination plots, okay?”

He didn’t need to know Sign to know she said ‘no promises’.

_____

“Hello, I would like to steal your finest painkillers, please and thank you.”

The girl behind the counter looked up, eyes widening. She reached for a button, presumably an alarm, but Roman cut her off with his cane; “ah, ah, ah, none of that.”

“T-Torchwick!”

“Good, so you know of me,” Roman said, pleased, “so you’d know, then, that my recent exploits have all been dust-related.”

Eyes still gigantic, the girl nodded.

“So you must be wondering why I’m in a pharmacy, of all places.”

Slowly, the girl retracted her hand from reaching for the button, visibly trying to stay calm. “The thought- the thought is crossing m-my mind now, actually…”

Sure that she was no longer going to raise the alert, Roman waved a hand in dismissal, turning to the shelves to start picking through them for what he was searching for. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m in a hurry, and I don’t have the time to explain my motives.”

“E-even villains need me-medication from time to time…?”

“Ooh, villains, I like that,” Roman said, comparing the dosage of two different brands, “usually I’m just called a criminal. You like stories?”

“Y-yes,” she kept glancing towards the button. Distract her.

“You got a favourite?”

“The boy and the beowolves.”

Perfect.

Roman hooked his cane over his forearm so he could have both hands free, reaching for another box. “That’s the one where the boy keeps raising the alarm about Grimm attacks, right?”

“Yes…” she glanced to the alarm button again, hand twitching.

“And when the huntsman arrived, they never found any evidence, and eventually stopped believing him?”

“Y-yes…” her response was quieter this time.

“See, here’s the fun thing about petty robbery, sweetheart,” he sidled back up to the counter, two kinds of painkillers in hand. For good measure, he nabbed a few chocolate bars from the front display, leaning against the counter.

Her eyes really were huge, if they widened any further they were bound to pop out of her skull. “There’s not enough evidence for there to be proof.”

“We- we ah, have security cameras.”

Roman nodded sympathetically, “of course you do,” he said, “and how often do they deter shoplifting?”

“They… they don’t.”

Roman couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. “Correct. Farewell, now!” he called over his shoulder, voice dripping with sickly sweet false care. “Hope your boss doesn’t get too mad at you for this— you really don’t get paid enough for the trouble.”

By the time the girl had recovered enough to think about hitting the alarm button again, he was gone, shelves straightened up with no gaps in the products, boxes facing label forwards.

She mentally started writing her two weeks notice.

_____

Neo had taken up residence in Roman’s chair while he was gone, chin resting on one arm, the other still curled up around the dust crystal, holding it to her abdomen. One of the ships had taken off, leaving the warehouse significantly more empty than before, the remaining White Fang members still clearing it out.

Roman considered yelling something else at them for his own entertainment, but decided against it, striding across the floor towards Neo.

“Here you go,” Roman said, tossing the pilfered goods at his partner, “two kinds so you can stack them, and some chocolate as a bonus. Good to see you didn’t explode the place while I was out, that would’ve been terribly inconvenient. Months of work, up in smoke.”

Neo waved a hand around at the warehouse, expression reading something close to ‘did you want that to happen?’

“You deserve a pay raise. Truly.”

Neo rolled her eyes and got to work opening one of the packs, signing a quick ‘thanks’ to Roman.

“It was nothing,” he replied, “believe me, I know how terrible those cramps can be. Can’t say I’d try and brute force my way through them, though.”

Neo moved her hand to her mouth like she was drinking from a glass. Water.

Roman chuckled, pulling out a bottle and tossing it her way as well. “Didn’t forget about that,” he said.

Taking two tablets and chasing them up with water, Neo stuck her tongue out to show Roman she’d taken the medication. He laughed, knocking his cane into her leg.

“I don’t need to see that!” he complained, shooing Neo out of his chair. She resumed her occupation of the table, screwing the cap back onto the water and setting it beside her.

Roman dropped into his chair, tipping it back to rest his feet on the table beside Neo.

“Now, where were we?”

She cupped her hands around her mouth, as if yelling.

“You’re so right,” he agreed, before raising his voice to carry through the warehouse, “if any of you want to see even a hint of a lien for this work, you best hope you’re not slacking!”

Neo’s wheezy breath of a laugh was all he needed to know things would be fine from here on out.

#sicktember #sickfic #rwby #rwby fic #neopolitan #roman torchwick #skarmowriting

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 1 year

Text

Rage Fire Institution

Building. 26.

Tatsumi kept his word and kept free of the lab up until evening. Maki had told him he didn’t need to be there when he did his next mental training with Poaw, yet he’d let himself get carried away coming up with concept designs for Maki’s mech. The legs had been printed, with the panels cut to standard dimensions for the students to pencil out their modifications on. Once the details were locked in, they’d be shaped to fit the mods then primed before going through the spray booth. Knowing he’d have to take the concept design before the research group, Tatsumi had printed them out. That way once Maki had made his choice, those choices could be laid out before the group and a final paint design agreed upon. He also knew that now mention of print design was brought up, everyone would have ideas on how the mech should look, but ultimately the final decision came down to Maki as he’d be piloting it. If he didn’t like the design, it’d reflect poorly on his synch rates.

Arriving an hour before Maki was due, Tatsumi dumped his backpack off on Poaw’s work bench, pulling out his designs and laying them out as if this were his lab. He’d worked hard on each design, yet when it boiled down to it, his favoured print was the one he’d told Maki about at the warehouse. An inky night black blue with the smallest hint of reflective particles in the mix. Simple was best. With the orange Rage Fire Insignia fitted, the sapphire at the top of the school crest would shimmer the same colour as the particles in the paint. Even if Maki didn’t choose that design, he still wanted the man to see what he’d seen when he’d first looked at the mech for him. Almost nervously he rearranged the print outs, trying to show the progression in design, though he knew Maki would first be drawn to the print out of their two joke designs. Out of fairness he’d included the submissions from their project chat, first separating them out, then deciding it was less nerve wracking to mix them in with his own in case Maki didn’t like any of his.

Seeing her work bench under threat, Poaw came over, leaving her team to finish calibrating the neural network for Maki’s training

“You’re not supposed to be here tonight. A little birdie told me you couldn’t make it. It looks like you’ve been busy”

“Maki called you?”

He knew he was banned from lab for the day, but Tatsumi didn’t think Maki would call ahead like this

“He’s got detention and may be half an hour late. He wanted to make sure he could still come tonight even if you wouldn’t be here”

Part of Tatsumi deflated. He’d been excited and now it seemed as if he were going to be lectured by the pushy alpha

“Cut a guy a break. I’m sure all will be forgiven when he chooses which paint job he wants”

Picking up the design Maki had submitted, Poaw held the picture up next to Tatsumi’s face

“Remind me again, you two are only friends, correct?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just you might want to nip it in the bud if you’re leading the kid on. He can’t go piloting a mech that looks just like you”

“I’m not leading the kid on. How can you tell he designed that one?”

“Because the pink pandas simply screams you causing trouble. Well, how are you feeling? You look significantly better than Suzu described. And don’t think I haven’t noticed those new glasses and the way you practically skipped in here”

Tatsumi took offence. He was a grown man and he certainly hadn’t skipped

“You doctor types talk too much”

“Us doctor types have to worry about blockheaded pilots like you. Spill. How did the kid know you’re sick when you’ve been avoiding him?”

No secret or action was safe from the prying eyes of the research wing. Tatsumi taking the printout off the doctor and placing it careful where she’d taken it from

“Maki and Li needed homework help yesterday. He may have caught me feeling faint and overreacted”

Poaw quickly started picking up the print outs one by one, not hiding her curiosity

“He may have done you a favour. Soooo, tell me more”

“There’s nothing to tell. I fucked up, he realised, now I’m making up for it”

Poaw knew how he worked. She knew he struggled and she knew he saw a lot in Maki that others wouldn’t. That didn’t make her right. Maki wasn’t looking at him in any other way but a teacher who could get him what he wanted and Tatsumi wasn’t so deluded he’d believe otherwise. Even if they had gotten closer, Maki would probably quit associating with him once the competition was over. He didn’t begrudge being used, not when he’d brought it on himself, but he did struggle with the wavering line between them. Alone in his room he’d traced his scars, really taking in every detail of the mess. There had to be something missing in the alpha’s head to still want to associate with such a scarred omega.

Poaw placed down the design in her hands, it was the one Tatsumi hoped Maki would choose. Simple but not plain in a bad way. A mech that gave nothing away, much like the personality within Maki

“This one is the best. It suits him perfectly. Tatsumi, he’s a better kid than I thought he’d be. I may not know what Skylark thought about pairing you together, and other than that incident with the suppressants and overworking yourself, you seem better. But don’t push those feelings onto Maki if he doesn’t want to reciprocate them”

“I’m not. I was a shitty babysitter to him. I mean, he has what I can’t have and I pushed that onto him. He worked it out. I guess that’s why they still say alphas are the smart ones”

“So he knows you’re an omega?”

“I told him as much last night. I thought he’d take off running”

“You mean you wanted him to”

“Yeah. Instead he got on my case about resting. Banned me from coming here all day”

Poaw laughed softly, her gaze still on the night sky mech, her fingers tracing the outline as if she were planning how she’d mod it

“I’m glad you found a friend. Someone who will call you out and someone you’ll listen to”

“I kind of owe him at least that. I’m not the best babysitter and we both know I’m a lousy researcher”

“There’s nothing wrong with being better with your hands than your mind. He’s not blackmailing you, is he?”

Tatsumi supposed technically it could be called that given Maki had threatened to tell Skylark on him, but it wasn’t blackmail in the physical sense

“No. I want to see him succeed with my own eyes. And seeing I forced him into all of this, the least I can do is make sure he’s got the tools he needs to survive it”

Poaw sighed heavily at him

“You’re such an idiot. You don’t need to be this hard on yourself now that he knows. You seem to like him, I mean, talking with him. That’s not a bad thing. I can see you two are close from these stupid mech mock ups. The pair of you are far too similar humour wise, it makes me want to map your brains for similarities”

Tatsumi didn’t think the joke with the mech paint was that abnormal… yet as he imagined Maki trying to figure out if he was serious or not, a smile came to his lips

“It is when I find myself telling him shit with no control of my mouth. I knew he’d be mad over a pink mech so I couldn’t help myself. Seriously, I’ve shown him nothing but my bad sides. I want to show him that… that maybe coming back can be something alright?”

Smiling brightly, Poaw started rearranging Tatsumi’s carefully laid out print outs. He wanted to stop her, but the best he could do was wait then change the order back

“And now you’re trying hard to build this friendship. I won’t kick you out. Mental health is important too and I know from looking at these that you took your time to really think about his tastes. I’m thinking simple with the school emblem over the mechs chest where its heart would lay. And another thing, you are no good to him if you’re struggling. If you need more suppressants because he’s an alpha, that may be your body telling you it’s time to find someone. It doesn’t have to be Maki, but open your heart up a little more and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised”

Tatsumi didn’t know why he thought of Maki as Poaw told him to open his heart. He’d opened it enough of late, any more and he was likely to start haemorrhaging out his stupidity. He also didn’t know why his head didn’t like the idea of another alpha. Of being that vulnerable that they’d see his scars. Maki hadn’t run away.

“Tatsumi?”

Tatsumi drew himself together, smoothly lying to cover the ideas that Poaw had put in his head

“Sorry, I was thinking about the emblem now you’ve brought it up. The school may want the school colours on their seeing it’s a mech owned by the institution”

Poaw cast him a skeptical look, yet let the topic drop

“We could go with stripes or bands down the arm. Alternatively we can change the mech’s lighting. Orange and white will stand out against black no matter how we display them”

“Maybe we should put them on the bottom of the mech’s feet? They do think Maki likes to walk all over the school rules”

Poaw rolled her eyes, their banter would have continued if the lab door hadn’t slid open, a slightly red faced and sweaty Maki standing there. Tatsumi blurting out

“What happened to your detention?”

Maki shot a scowl their way, Tatsumi knowing it was entirely meant for him seeing he was somewhere he wasn’t meant to be. The alpha shooting back with

“What happened to you staying out the lab?”

Poaw laughed at the pair of them, earning a scowl from them both

“I’m sorry but he was too excited. Give him anything mech related and he still acts like a child. He rushed right over here to wait for you. He is right though, you did say you had detention”

“Halcial let me go early because of the competition. Tatsumi, you didn’t keep your word, grandpa”

Putting his hands together as if in prayer, Tatsumi gave a small bow

“Forgive me, grandson. This foolish grandpa has some finished mech ideas for you to see”

Maki seemed as if he wanted to be mad, but if he wanted to be mad, then he really shouldn’t have let his eyes light up

“So that’s why you weren’t replying, I didn’t think you’d actually stop altogether”

“I told you I wouldn’t while you were in class. Come have a look. These are all draft designs, naturally you’ll have the final say after the team presents their ideas and then I’ll take it to the principal for approval”

Coming over to join them, Maki groaned as his eyes landed on his joke design

“You can’t let this one go, can you?”

“Not when I’ve been informed the resemblance is canny. Personally, I don’t see what was so wrong with those pandas”

“Is this going to be the penguins all over again? Do I need to get Mina to send you her designs?”

Tatsumi sucked in his lips to stop from laughing. Mina had gushed and gushed over their penguin experience. They all knew it was virtual reality, but the aquarium had done a great job on their tech. The little girl able to pat penguins as much as she liked. Poaw raising an eyebrow

“Mina?”

Given it was Maki’s sister they were talking about, Tatsumi headed her off

“Don’t ask. I may have gotten carried away”

Maki raised his gaze

“More than that. I did some designs too, but… I like this one. I like the feel of it, but what’s with the glitter?”

Tatsumi’s chest grew warm as Maki picked up the design he’d secretly hoped the alpha would love

“It’s very tiny paint particles. The effect would be very slight until your in motion”

“So it’s not glitter?”

“Oh, no. It is in the sense you’re thinking, but it’ll serve to make you just a touch less scary”

“I want them to be terrified. I know I will be. Can we not have glitter?”

“We can paint a swatch of both then decide. Why don’t you show me your designs?”

Poaw cleared her throat to interrupt them

“You two obviously don’t need me butting in here. I’ll finish up calibrations while you two settle on a paint scheme. It might be a little wait as I expected you later”

Maki waved his hand dismissively, Poaw giving Tatsumi an amused look which he returned with a nod and a smile, then turned his attention back to Maki

“We were just saying that the school may wish for us to use the orange and white of the emblem”

Maki frowned at the suggestion, Tatsumi didn’t blame him. Orange always stood out in battle, he knew that already. The alpha asking

“I mean, we could… do you think we still look cool with the school colours? Is this what you saw when we were at the warehouse? You said an inky blue black?”

“Pretty much. I wasn’t sure what shade to go until I was using the simulator. I think we can both agree no boots or glasses”

“And no pink pandas?”

Tatsumi faked a pout. Mina would have loved the pandas. The girls in the crowds probably would have gone crazy for them. With his looks, skill, and a bright pink mech, Maki would have pissed off a hell of a lot of partners showing up like that

“But they suit you so well”

Slyly, Maki through a counter jab

“Says my grandpa, who should have been resting like I told him too”

“I did rest, oh great grandson of mine. Then I remembered I had nothing to do”

“You could have slept. What about your eyes? Too much screen time isn’t good for you”

Maki was making mountains out of molehills. There was only so much time a man could be left alone with his own thoughts

“I’ll have you know I have new glasses, they were delivered this morning, and that I didn’t bother getting dressed and ready for the day until after I had breakfast”

“Touché. Still, you spent so much time on this”

“Of course I did. We can’t have your mech going out with any old paint job. A paint job needs to suit the pilots taste, most have flares of the owners style on the battlefield”

“Did yours?”

Tatsumi thought of his mech in his lab. He definitely did… a special paint job forced on him by the team

“Yes. And I’d never swap it for anything. It was gifted on me as a joke, yet I’d rather die than see it erased”

“That’s some pretty heavy shit right there”

“It’s true. Plus, your synch rate will fall if you’re piloting a mech you dislike. You’ll find a lot of proud soldiers happy to talk about their paint jobs. It becomes part of your identity, and those around you will be able to recognise you straight away. That’s why the government is more lenient on paint jobs provided they aren’t overly gaudy and obnoxious”

“Damn, no glasses then. I don’t think I liked them all that much anyway. I do like this one. Can we try working out how to work in the school colours in case there’s an objection”

“Of course. We also need to consult the others about the choice, though I can’t see it being too much of a problem if you go for a darker look. It’ll be pretty bad arse”

Maki stared at him for a good moment before snorting

“You just reminded me how much older you are. I didn’t think you’d be saying something’s bad arse”

“Take pity on this grandpa, it’s hard being old and past my prime”

“You’re hardly past your prime. Your designs are better than mine”

Tatsumi wanted to beam with happiness, but he couldn’t. Maki would have worked on his own designs just as hard. He wouldn’t let him choose his without taking what the alpha had come up with and completing ignoring it

“You haven’t shown me yet, sit down and we’ll work on your mech together”

***

By the time he and Tatsumi had drafted up designs including the school colours, Maki was excited. He could see his mech clearly in his head, and Tatsumi could show him how it should look provided that they didn’t mod the mods any further. His mech was a beast. Inky black, with touches of sapphire blue in the paint. Sure, the school designs were passable, opting for the colours to be on the arms or legs rather than the bulk of the mech, but it was still the coolest looking mech he’d ever seen. Tatsumi had assured him that the paint job was completely customisable and he’d print those samples he’d mentioned, but Maki honestly didn’t care. His mech was beastly and sure to strike fear into those in the competition.

Lying on the examination bed, it was tilted up at a 45 degree angle. Wires and monitors lead from the helmet that would both map his brain and generate the world he’d find himself in. In his hands were the dummy controllers that’d give him a sense of actually being in a mech, and steps sat beneath his feet to project walking. For their own safety, Poaw, her team, and Tatsumi stood behind a glass shield. Yes, he was mad that Tatsumi had shown up after promising to rest, but the man had spent the whole day in his room working on designs, so he couldn’t be too mad about that.

“Maki, we’ll begin synchronisation now. Tell us immediately if you’re experiencing anything abnormal”

With his new mech’s badarse paint job officially decided upon, his mental training now was focusing on the vastly different feels between an Erebus and a TC. An Erebus had a far more sophisticated system which would only get harder once all the mods were in place

“Understood”

Taking several deep breaths, Maki opened his eyes to find himself in the projected cockpit. He didn’t like the lacking walls around him, it gave him too much space to breathe, and though he’d never thought he’d see the day, he kind of missed the smell of sweat seeing the cleanliness of the air was too pure.

“That’s good Maki. We’ll hold here for a minute before proceeding”

Poaw said that last time, Maki figured it was to simulate booting time in a real mech. On his screen numbers sat level, his synch rate sitting at 86 percent even though he thought it’d be higher. Remembering that Poaw had told him he had to confirm everything he heard, he replied

“Alright. Things seem fine”

“Good, good. Reading are good too. You’re doing great”

“Tell grandpa he better be sitting down by now. He’ll wear out those old legs of his”

Tatsumi’s voice came through the projected cockpit

“Focus on what you’re doing. This is serious now”

“Alright already, sheesh, you research times do like to nag”

“Says the man labelling himself as my grandson”

“How else was I going to get you to listen?”

“I always listen. Now focus, Poaw’s going to start increasing the loading. Keep your breathing calm”

Maki would have ducked his head if he could. Tatsumi was scolding him in front of everyone. He couldn’t rely on Tatsumi once he got into the competition arena. Focusing on breathing was boring, so instead he moved to use the mechs screen, looking for the input stats so he could watch the loading as it grew. He’d meant to do that the last time, but thought himself clever for remembering to do so this time given it was only his third time in.

“Don’t focus on your stats. We’ll be monitoring them”

Maki would have elbowed Tatsumi if he could have

“Stop talking, if I want to know my stats, I’ll look at them”

“Stats aren’t everything”

“Then you come sit in this contraption and tell me you’re not curious”

Vaguely he could hear Poaw telling Tatsumi to shut up, then her voice came through

“Right. Beginning mental loading in 30 seconds”

Maki watched the numbers climb then steady out. He truly felt as if he’d do better in a real mech, but everyone was acting cautiously and he supposed mechs were kind of expensive. Holding himself back was hard seeing he was so used to Andes making him move, and had grown used to facing Tatsumi where stopping to analyse led to action. As his numbers started to dip, Poaw’s voice came through, causing him to jump slightly

“We’ll end it here today. You achieved 76% loading, but you’re showing signs of distress in your vitals. We’ll start reducing the strain now. Don’t move until the projection ends”

Obediently waiting, Maki followed orders. Staying completely still until the screen went black and the headset was raised. The alpha didn’t realise he was panting for breath until Poaw was beside him, checking his vision with a light pen

“Good. You were doing good. Catch your breath. 35 minutes at 76 percent is good”

It hadn’t felt 35 minutes. It felt longer and shorter at the same time. Looking down, he realised he was sweating up a storm inside his pilot suit. Everything felt horribly hot and soggy, much like his brain from keeping control

“Maki? Are you with us?”

Maki nodded at Poaw’s question

“I don’t know how I made 35 minutes”

“You held steady for the first 25, before starting to dip. You initial synch rate did have us worried, yet you evened out so instead of raising it higher we kept it even to see how long you could maintain that level. When you get back to your dorm, ask your fellow students to monitor any symptoms. With the change in your suppressants your body is adjusting to a lot. Don’t be too disheartened”

Maki would not be asking them for help. He was sure it would end as disastrously as when he’d tried asking them for advice the previous night. The alpha felt disappointed in himself for not being able to take on a larger load, if he ignored the boot time, adjustment period, and the end time, he’d only lasted roughly 20 minutes. He needed better times if he wanted to win the competition

“I understand”

“Good, you can come off the bed now. I’ll check your vitals once you’ve calmed back down”

With legs of jelly, Maki wobbled his way across to sit next to Tatsumi who waited with a bottle of water and a towel, both appreciated in his state. With how Poaw had praised him, he felt embarrassed, especially when Tatsumi gave a small cough to indicate he had something to say

“What do you feel went wrong?”

No words of praise? Actually, Maki liked it better than Tatsumi hadn’t praised him

“It’s weird. Being exposed is nothing like being in a mech. Even the cocoons we use feel more like being in a mech than that does”

“So you think you’d do better in an actual mech?”

Maki opened his water, gulping down the contents as if he’d never had a drink before in his life. Draining the bottle, he accidentally slammed it down when he was done, explaining

“Basically. It doesn’t feel enough like a mech so I can’t keep focus as I should be, but I’m sure I’ll get it. I have to. I won’t let anyone down”

Reaching out, Tatsumi ruffled Maki’s sweat damp hair

“If you say you can do it, then I believe it. Your rate will always be messed up by unusual conditions. We had to keep the area free seeing your an alpha taking on such a large mental load. If you had lost control we have an easier time sedating you sitting up like that rather than trying to bring you down in a mech”

Taking Tatsumi by the wrist, Maki pulled him off him. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t meant to be comforted by the fact the team didn’t want him being hurt inside a mech where he could seriously risk death, or upset that the team thought it might happen. Unable to stop himself, he snapped

“I told you I’d get it! It’s not like I’m not trying!”

Throwing back Tatsumi’s arm, Maki’s eyes widened in horror at what he’d done. Tatsumi keeping his balance and barely affected, but Maki was. He’d used enough force on the man that a normal person would have lost their balance. His words fell over each other as he asked

“Shit. Fuck. Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

Taking his wrist into his left hand, Tatsumi rubbed at it lightly

“No damage done. You’re agitated from the mental loading and I shouldn’t have touched an alpha so casually straight after”

That didn’t mean shit. He wasn’t meant to hurt people who didn’t deserve it and he didn’t get why he was so angry

“But you were trying to be nice. Like, what the hell?”

“Instincts. Those stupid traits still simmering in our blood. Your body feels stressed and your brain is still running hot. It didn’t hurt”

“It doesn’t matter if it did or didn’t. Maybe I do need sedating?”

“I wouldn’t have lived so long if a small incident like this meant anything. You’re fine. Wiped yourself down and focus your breathing. In through the nose slowly and out through your mouth”

“I know how to damn well breathe!”

Tatsumi had the nerve to smile, Maki giving a miserable groan. His mouth was going to get him into trouble and didn’t like it

“Don’t let it get to you. Young alphas are supposed to be broody and ill tempered”

The alpha didn’t want to hear it. Being an alpha was no excuse for being an arsehole

“I’m not that much younger than you and I went on suppressants to avoid this shit right here”

“It’s fine. Look, all this means is we should adjust training sooner rather than later. You became distressed because you felt restless. You felt restless because though submerged, you still couldn’t stop noticing the glaring fact you weren’t in a mech. These results aren’t bad, they just say we change method sooner than later”

Maki sighed heavily as he slumped back feeling disheartened. They didn’t want to put him in a mech but he couldn’t get his shit together enough not to be. He needed to be better than this, and in a hurry or he’d never be ready for the competition

“We don’t have time for this”

“We do if… if I show you something. Poaw, can I borrow Maki once you’re done with him?”

Poaw called back across the lab

“You can take him after I’ve given him another check. Make sure he goes back to his dorm room and rests”

That was all Maki wanted to do. He wanted to keep him and his bad mood to himself, not be dragged around and made to feel better about failing. Maki rejecting the offer

“Not tonight. I don’t think my pride can take anything else and I don’t want to say anything I can’t take back”

“Alright. I suppose it may be a bit too much for you right now. I’ll take you back once you’ve been tested again”

Despite being calm, Tatsumi seemed disappointed. He never knew what was going on in the fellow alpha’s head, or why he’d want to go cheering him up after probably giving the man a good laugh at how pathetic he was as a pilot. He’d been the one to say he could do this, and now they were all telling him he couldn’t. His pride was wounded. Sure, they all knew he was a second year student, but Tatsumi should have known better than to come at him with whatever it was

“Maki, it’s alright. This is only your third session”

“And how many more do you need to see me fail?!”

There went his temper again. Standing up, Tatsumi wrapped his arms around him

“It’s not a failure. You’d be dead if you failed, or even worse, in a vegetative state where all we could do was liquidate your organs. I’ll get your things ready, take a shower when you’re back at your dorm. It’ll still be within curfew”

“I can shower here, it’s all the same”

“The same for you, not for them. Your alpha’s showing more than you think. Go easy on us, will you?”

Maki didn’t get it until Tatsumi released him and he saw a noticeable outline in his crotch. There was being worked up, and “being worked up”, an absolutely ridiculous state for a trainee to be in front of everyone. Sliding the towel down, Tatsumi covered his lap before sitting back on his own stool, leaving Maki angry with the mortification of being sprung. His cheeks red as he hissed in a whisper

“Not a word”

“I wasn’t intending on it. Besides, you’re not the only one with one here. I do know how these things work, you know”

“And yet you’re still running your mouth. Piss off already, pervert”

Tatsumi snorted, making a show of turning away as he did, then getting back off the stool on the opposite side

“Right. You stay there, I’ll get your things together”

Maki had a right mind to smack the Professor one for being straight out embarrassing, but supposed technically he’d been spared being seen by Poaw this way thanks to the towel. His stupid dick had gone and betrayed him, and now that he thought about it, Tatsumi’s warmth hadn’t helped things down there. It’d been so long, probably too long, since he’d taken matters into his own hands and now his goddamn babysitter would know exactly what he was getting up to later that night. This was all Tatsumi’s fault.

#ashratherose #omegaverse #mpreg #rfi #rage fire #rage fire institution #mecha

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luverofralts · 2 years

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Arkhelios University

Roman stared down the gilded hall of the Pleasantview Academy of Magic, looking for his son. He was supposed to be meeting his parents at the front door ten minutes ago, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

“Do you think he’s being bullied here too?” Roman asked his fiance anxiously. “What if he’s late because he’s crying somewhere and he needs our help? I should go find him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Abe said, grabbing Roman’s arm before he could start systematically searching the academy room by room for their son. “You’re just going to embarrass him in front of his friends. I’m sure he’s just running late.”

While the academy offered accommodations for students who came from far away, Theo had arrived in the middle of a semester when almost all of the dorm rooms were occupied. He could easily teleport to school on his own, so the school hadn’t granted him a room of his own that semester, and Roman wouldn’t have it any other way. Most of the children Theo’s age were homesick once they arrived at school for the semester, and Theo would be no different. As long as he teleported to school and home again, he could live with his family and attend a distant school.

An exception had been made for this semester though. Theo had spent most of the school year so far learning about things like math and spelling and gym. He didn’t have the foundations for learning magic covered and needed to catch up with his peers. So it had been decided that three nights a week, Theo would stay in Pleasantview, and be the part time roommate of Adam, the boy he’d befriended at Ulyssa’s wedding. He would work through extra material with his friend at night, as well as develop a sense of the hierarchy and functions of magic users by living among them. His parents had been reluctant to part with him for three whole nights a week, but Theo had been ecstatic. He’d never had a sleepover before, let alone three of them a week. Abe and Roman had only received two homesick phone calls the first week, which the school said was perfectly normal.

“Dad! Daddy! Over here!”

Theo had finally emerged from a room outside of the main hallway, arm in arm with the boy they’d met when they had brought extra sheets and pillows for Theo’s nights at school. There wasn’t a moment those two weren’t together from what they’d seen so far. During the summer break, Abe and Roman just knew this boy would be practically living at their house. The last few times they’d visited the school, Theo and Adam had been inseparable.

“He still has a best friend,” Roman gasped, trying to hide his tearful reaction. “That kid has seen the textbooks Theo’s studying from and still wants to be his friend. He has a best friend, Abe!”

“I can see that too, you know,” Abe chided him playfully. “It’s not just that Adam kid either. Look at all the kids walking past him and waving! He fits in so well!”

“This school had been worth every penny just to see this happen.”

While the demon sovereign had remained true to her word and helped pay for some of Theo’s education, it was still costing them more money than they’d expected. If they could make the money from Theo’s baby shower stretch over the next few years, they’d be fine, but Theo would need to apply for every scholarship he could if he wanted to attend university one day.

“I turned my pencil into a frog!” Theo boasted, wrapping himself around his parents eagerly. “Do you want to see? I can’t change it back though, my teacher had to do it for me, but I’d rather have the frog anyway.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Roman replied, straightening Theo’s crumpled witch hat out of habit. “You’re so smart. My pencil only grew one leg back when I was in school. It used to kick me when I tried to write with it.”

“Do I have to go home now?” Theo asked impatiently. “Everyone’s watching movies in Remy’s room in twenty minutes. Everyone is going.”

“Absolutely not,” Roman decreed quickly, seeing the conflicted look on Abe’s face. “Aunt Lucy and Uncle Nathan are waiting to see you for family dinner. Grandma hasn’t seen you in two weeks. You can watch movies with your friends later. Family time comes first.”

Theo pouted and gave Abe the same angry stare he’d perfected as a toddler, while Roman did the same beside him. Abe sighed. He really hoped that the new baby didn’t inherit that look. He was already caught between Roman and Mini-Roman as it was.

“You have ten more minutes to say goodbye to your friends, and then we really do have to go,” he said, trying to find a compromise. “Grandma’s going to be mad if she doesn’t get to see you. She misses seeing you, just like the rest of us.”

“Look at it this way,” Roman began, still fussing with smoothing out the wrinkles in Theo’s uniform. “Grandma has the money to pay for you to stay here full time next semester and we don’t. If you think you’re grown up enough to stay here five nights a week like your friends and only come home on the weekends, then sucking up to Grandma is your only option.”

Theo nodded, his brain clearly working on hatching a plan like his father suggested.

“Okay, I’ll be back in ten minutes!” he promised, scampering down the hall once more.

Roman took a seat on a nearby bench, gesturing for Abe to join him.

“I don’t think we’re leaving anytime soon,” he sighed. “Might as well get comfortable.”

“That was a very Bellamy suggestion you made,” Abe said, taking a seat beside his fiance. “I do hope you’re okay with the consequences of it. My mom will fold the moment Theo asks her for anything.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that,” Roman agreed. “This will give him practice with presenting an argument. Your mother will be ecstatic that he’s already making pitches at his age.”

“And you’re going to be fine letting Theo go an extra two nights a week?” Abe asked, wrapping his arm around Roman. “I mean, it’s going to kill me too, but with your history with boarding schools, I know it’s extra tough for you.”

Roman laughed as he saw Theo chase two other boys down the hall, not even remotely caring about the ten minute deadline.

“I guess it’s not really the same,” he replied. “My grandparents wanted me out of Arkhelios for all of their schemes, whether it was dumping you or marrying some Prince or just plain world domination. I don’t have any plans for Theo. I just want him to be happy, and look at him. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. People understand him here.”

Abe started to nod in agreement, only to feel a sharp pain in his head.

Send him to Pleasantview. I’ll see him there in Pleasantview

“I’ll see him there in Pleasantview.”

Abe repeated the words that echoed through his mind, unsure of where they’d come from exactly. They were important, he knew that much.

“Abe? We’re in Pleasantview. What are you talking about?”

Abe shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. Memories and fears and nearly forgotten wisps of a nightmare were all jumbled in his mind, each separate fragment fighting to force him to remember. Remember what though?

“Sorry,” he said slowly. “I- I don’t know what that was. Some weird pregnancy thing maybe? I kind of zoned out there for a minute.”

“We need to get you back home to rest then,” Roman declared, rubbing Abe’s shoulder with sympathy. He’d never been able to experience much of Abe’s pregnancy with Theo because of his family, but Lucy had filled him in on all of the many concerns Adam had had about Abe’s health. Roman assumed that Abe had a difficult pregnancy because of the curse that had grown along with their son, but he wasn’t willing to risk Abe’s life on an assumption. Until Theo could learn to meet the sovereign’s demands and bind his parents together properly, Roman wasn’t taking any chances when it came to Abe’s safety.

He snapped his fingers and a small portal opened up beside him, depositing an irate Theo on the floor.

“You said I had more time!” he protested, glaring angrily at his father. Roman remained unmoved by the glare. He’d invented that look.

“Your father’s not feeling well. We’re leaving. Grab your bag and meet me at Grandma’s while I get the witch on duty here to send your father.”

Theo’s demeanor changed when he saw the concern in his father’s eyes. This wasn’t his parents being unfair; this was important. He nodded quickly and disappeared down the hall again to grab his things before he teleported to his grandmother’s.

“I’m fine,” Abe insisted. “You’re being paranoid, though I do appreciate the concern. Just try not to let it slip to my mom that we’re pregnant when you’re worrying needlessly. I haven’t figured out how to tell her yet.”

“I think Lucy had the right idea there,” Roman teased, still hovering near Abe like he was made of glass and could shatter at any moment. “She can find out when we hand her a baby.”

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios university #Roman Bellamy #Abe chun #sim: Theo Bellamy #sims 2 pictures #theo bellamy #adam darktide

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ofdecode · 1 year

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send me a 💏 for my muse’s reaction to seeing your muse kiss somebody else. || autumn & gabriel. @gavethestars

it’d been days since she’d spoken to gabriel, luna or anyone for that matter...other than neville of course because he was probably the only person in the world who she could look in the eye right now. it’s not that gabriel or luna had done anything wrong, they didn’t and to a point she knew it was unfair to give them the could shoulder,she just couldn’t stand the idea of having to talk to them after the night she saw them share a kiss in the ravenclaw common room late one night, she still remembers how close they were, looking as though they’d been holding each other until she’d gone and been clumsy knocking over a fucking lamp before running out of the common room before anyone could see her and that...had been the last time she’d spoken to either of them despite their best efforts. she should just be happy for them, they’d all been friends since their first year and really they had things in common too, their love for creatures and being outcasts in their own right. out of everyone in their little group of friends it made sense that those two would end up together. so why did it make her want to throw up? it wasn’t like she’d been in love with gabriel since they were thirteen years old or anything, it wasn’t like the idea of him and another girl didn't make her heart feel like it was stabbing against her chest with pins and needles and even if she was in love with him it didn’t matter anyway because he was in love with someone else. she’d get over it eventually right? or at least pretend to so things could go back to normal and she wouldn’t find herself making up stomach aches to hide out in the hospital wing so she didn’t have to sleep in her dorm the last three days (even though she’s sure pomfrey knows) or sitting with cho and her friends during dinner to avoid having to sit with her own, going above and beyond to not have to face the truth. but that had come to an end tonight, her fault for deciding to hide out in the library again, letting her guard down for a moment as her face stay hidden in some novel about muggles when a familiar voice had pulled at her attention. looking up to see gabriel standing there and this time it was kind of impossible to avoid him. he looked sad, maybe a little stressed and she does feel guilty for ignoring her friends but she feels worse having to look at him knowing what she knows now. “hey...” she mutters, softer tone than she’s ever been used to in her life. “look, can we just not? you can scold me for avoiding you but i had my reasons and i’m happy for you, i am but...i just i can’t right now okay?” might as well get some of it out in the open without actually saying it outloud...maybe one day it can all be a funny story she tells at their wedding. “i’ll make up for it one day i promise.”

#♡ ⠀ … ⠀ ( prose. ) ⠀ —— ⠀ a. straghart #*˖ ⊹♡ ft. ╲ gabriel ⋅

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oh-katsuki · 3 years

Text

Golden Boy (Izuku x Reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Summary: Izuku was a nice boy, except when it came to you. Yup, UA’s golden boy really knew how to treat a slut like you.

Content Warnings: Dubcon, slight noncon, dacryphilia, size kink, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie, degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, finger choking, pet names, ooc izuku

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I got SCARY h-word over this man and decided that I literally wanted him to hurt me and spit in my mouth. He’s too nice to not be a fucking freak, goodbye.

Anyway, thank you to @eremiie , @mikaberries , and @veroyktv for beta-reading this!! I appreciate y’all !

Izuku tormented you all through high school. It was almost shameful to admit the way that his gentle teases melted into something far more sinister as the weeks bled into months and years. What started as subtle comments turned into outright taunts and then the contactless threats no longer remained empty.

No one believed you. And who would?

Izuku was a model student and a good friend, someone with a kind disposition who wanted nothing more than to become the greatest hero. What reason could he possibly have to bully you? You’d never done anything to him.

But he did. For three years he mercilessly taunted you and it only got worse your final year.

Izuku would pinch at your thighs, sneering at you in the hallways when no one was looking. He’d snake his hand up your skirt and squeeze the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises that eventually littered the entire inside of your thigh. They looked incredibly vulgar and Izuku would torment you about it endlessly, despite knowing that he’s the one who left them.

He’d crowd you against the lockers after most people had gone home, knowing you’d be there late after your tutoring sessions.

“Tsk. Quite some marks you’ve got there.” He’d say, stepping up to you, his broad shoulders squared, a half smile creeping onto his face as his eyes studied the inside of your thighs. The marks littered the otherwise smooth skin, visible when looking at you from the front.

“You get them from slutting yourself out?” Izuku would ask, stepping toward you again. “Y’look like a bit of a whore, don’t you?”

He’d lean in close to your ear, venom seeping into each of his words as he cornered you. His hand crept up your skirt, eyes trained on yours which widened with fear as he pinched down, relishing in the yelp of pain that escaped you.

You wondered how someone like Izuku could make you feel so small and so insignificant.You couldn’t even bat his hand away as he made a fool of you, pinching at the inside of your leg with thick, calloused, and scarred fingers. It didn’t matter how tall or strong you were because it always seemed that Izuku was bigger, domineering in attitude and words. He really did know how to reduce you to a helpless thing.

It seemed Izuku was growing more desperate by the day as graduation gradually crept closer. It was like he made less of an effort to hide it, blowing into your ear and whispering vile shit to you while in class, things that would make anyone squirm in their seat. He’d start bumping into you, singling you out, making an effort to get you noticed by his friends so he could have you as a little plaything whenever they hung out.

And you let him. You let him make a toy out of you, tagging along with Iida, Uraraka, and Asui on Saturday outings, letting Izuku pinch and prod at you from across a restaurant table.

The truth was, Izuku Midoriya fucking terrified you.

So you couldn’t say no to him. To everyone else you looked like nothing more or less than one of his many admirable friends. Promising quirk and a promising future, what a match for UA’s golden boy.

You were at your wits end and by the time graduation rolled around. No one listened to you. Hell, people often brushed off Izuku’s very genuine threats as classic childhood teasing. “You’re such a good sport!” they’d say as Izuku patted your back, laughing an all too cheery “just kidding!”

How were you supposed to focus on graduation day, all dolled up in your cap and gown, unwilling to admit to yourself that maybe it was for him? Still, you found yourself automatically flinching whenever Izuku came around, eyes following him across the lawn as he ignored you in favor of photos. Izuku had a promising job offer waiting for him, and his many awards won during the ceremony earned him several congratulatory handshakes as well as pictures for the school’s newsletter.

Still, he’d catch your eye when smiling for the camera, an all to familiar glint in them. His smile made you sick to your stomach, made it churn in the worst of ways. It was doing back flips as he stalked across the lawn towards you until his sturdy frame was against yours. He leaned down, lips brushing beside your ear to whisper one final taunt.

“It’s a shame you’re not wearing that little skirt of yours,” Izuku breathed, eyes flitting over the cap and gown. “Would have liked to pinch those skank thighs of yours one last time. S’what you deserve.”

And then he stood there, watching the way tears began to crowd your waterline, threatening to spill over as three years of tormentation came to what felt like an underwhelming head. Izuku tilted his head, watching the way water stained your made-up cheeks, before taking his thumb and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, doll.” He taunted, voice far too sweet for the words that fell from his lips. “I’m not near done with you yet.”

Why was his tone so comforting? So confusing that you weren’t sure if it was dread or relief that filled your senses, ears suddenly feeling clogged with water. Your eyes darted from his to anyone on the lawn who could see you, who might be watching as Izuku pushed you to tears with only a few words, until you caught Bakugou’s gaze.

Ah, Bakugou Katsuki, someone who’s done to Izuku what he does to you. It’s a bit of a fucked up little triangle because while Izuku was bullied by him and you are bullied by Izuku, you couldn’t help but hope that Bakugou would be the one taunting you, the one pinching your thighs. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe he’d help you, after all, he was probably the only person who’d believe you in the first place.

So once Izuku had wiped your tears with a condescending thumb and left to go partake of other party activities, you pulled Katsuki aside by the shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of his bicep.

“What in th- you?! The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowed in the permanent scowl that he wore so frequently.

“Sh, look please just, hear me out.” You spoke, voice hushed as your eyes shifted around. You had the feeling that if Izu saw you with him, you’d be in for it. “I just- I really need help.”

Bakugou was about to scoff, was about to roll his eyes and walk away until he saw the redness under your eyes that the makeup couldn’t hide. The way you sniffled slightly as you asked and the way you looked to the floor. He’d never seen you like this, almost broken. It was something he’d seen often in Izuku, but something about seeing you like this made him ache.

“What?” He responded, trying not to seem too invested.

“It’s Midoriya.” Your voice grew quiet, almost in shame as you spoke the formal version of his name.

“And?” Bakugou was impatient. He cared about you but not enough to sit here for five minutes while you stuttered. “Spit it out.”

“He- he won’t leave me alone.” The words tumble from your lips so fast and before you know it, your hands are balled into fists on his chest, the material of his gown scrunched inside them in a plea. “He’s a nightmare, he pinches me and says the most awful shit to me. I- I mean, the inside of my legs and thighs are littered with bruises and n-no one believes me.”

“Midoriya? As in, ‘shitty deku’ Midoriya?” Bakugou takes a step back in slight shock.

“Yes!” You shout, far louder than you intended, pulling him closer slightly as you hush your tone in a whisper. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

He nudged you off of him, brushing off his gown. Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood boil. Sure, him and Midoriya had buried the hatchet a long time ago but he still wanted dirt on the guy, plus he thought it was a coward move for him to bully someone as pretty as you. Though after seeing the way your eyes get wide in fear, he can’t say that it wasn’t incredibly tempting. There was something enticing about how you looked when you begged, no doubt Izuku saw it too.

“You’re too sensitive.” He scoffed, meeting you gaze and watching the way your expression fell. “What you do is graduate and forget about that shitty extra. There’s really nothing else to it.”

You reached for him again out of habit this time, like if he turned around now you’d really be thrown to the wolves.

“N-no, Bakugou, please.” You plead again, tears once again gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I-I can’t. I just need help.”

Oh, he gets it now.

He sees what makes you so appealing, what makes it so easy to walk all over you. You looked pretty when you cried. So he leaned in, his scowl turning into a smirk before speaking again.

“No.” Bakugou’s smirk turned into an outright grin, eyes crinkling at the corners before he stood back up. “I graduated. Shitty Deku is your problem, not mine. Deal with it yourself. Just stop talking to him or whatever.”

And with a wave of his hand he was off, walking towards his group of friends. Well, there goes your life line, the one person who actually believed that Izuku was tormenting you wouldn’t even lend you a helping hand. You supposed it was too much to hope though, and he was right, you could forget… stop talking to him. Why did the idea of that suck almost as much as staying under this thumb?

“____!” Bunette locks bounced as your friend came towards you, hand outstretched in a wave before she pulled you into a hug. “We’re all going to Midoriya’s place to celebrate graduating, come with?”

You liked Uraraka. Well, you actually liked all of Izuku’s friends. They were sweet and honestly none-the-wiser to Izuku’s torments and taunts. She wore the kindest smile, eyes bright with the excitement of finally starting her adult life.

You glanced at the rest of them, eyes flitting around friendly faces until your gaze met Izuku’s. He looked upset, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes cold as he stood there. They all agreed, urging you to go before Izuku spoke up, smiling gently at you over the top of Uraraka’s head.

��You should come. We’ll miss you if you don’t.” The rest of the group nods their agreement, but it wasn’t them that pulled the small okay from your lips. It was Izuku, the way his eyes had a threatening glint to them as he spoke, a smile creeping into them in the most unsettling of ways. Your stomach was turning again, twisting over and over because something about the way Izuku looked at you made you squirm.

“Yay! Okay, we’re all gonna meet there after!” She smiled, taking your hands in hers and giving a small squeal. “It’s gonna be so fun!”

And with that she was bouncing off with Asui in the direction of Kaminari and Kirishima.

Izuku stayed behind, walking slower than his friends so he could bend down to speak to you. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke, words sending shivers down your spine. Despite the way your heart hammered against your rib cage, you tilted your head to hear him better.

“You better be there, doll.” He muttered. “It’ll be worse for you if you’re not. Be a good girl for once, yeah?”

He sounded more upset than usual, hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, he didn’t wear his standard grin. Izuku looked angry, furious even. It made your skin crawl, made heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks so furiously that you found it hard to see through.

All you could do was nod, fighting the pout that tried so hard to paint your face. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively at the phrase. He never praised you, not even once. Hearing the words “good girl” drip from his lips so angrily made them fly shamefully south. He gave a small laugh before walking off. It was almost like he knew, leaving you to rub at your sore shoulder.

---

Why were you here? You could have just not come and then you never would have had to see Izuku again, never would have had to deal with him until one day in the future when you’re too successful a hero to pinch. Still, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself or anyone else, but you might miss him. The teasing was a nightmare but it was attention, something that reminded you that at least Izuku still saw you.

He couldn’t be ignoring you if he was calling you a slut.

You arrived after everyone and Izuku opened the door for you with a jeering grin before stepping aside to let you in, pinching at your thigh again. He noticed immediately that you wore a skirt and he didn’t have to wonder why. It was an invitation for him, of course.

You’d actually never been to Izuku’s house, so sitting in his living room eating snacks and drinking was unusual to say the least. It was surprising because beyond pinching you in the doorway, Izuku was being oddly kind.

He sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, but he didn’t try anything. Didn’t whisper in your ear or grab at the fat on your side. You couldn’t help but ask yourself why. Even as the latter half of the day droned on, you were on edge despite being treated, finally, like one of the group. What did you do wrong? Was he no longer interested in you? Most importantly though, why were you upset that he wasn’t pushing your buttons?

The end of the day came quickly, dark settling over the house while everyone gathered their things to leave. You’d all walk home together, leaving Izuku alone in his house. He smiled as everyone waved goodbye, bittersweet tears in his eyes as his final high school hang out came to a close. He cried at the ceremony while delivering his speech and then again at his house while Uraraka babbled on about her appreciation of UA. You can’t say you felt the same.

“Not ____.” He said as you slipped on your shoes, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk her home since she lives in the opposite direction. Plus, I gotta give her something.”

Izuku smiles at his friends, who all nod their understanding. They wouldn’t suspect that he’d do anything wrong, that he’d be keeping you behind to maybe, finally, torment you. What a fucked up way of thinking. The door to his house clicked shut and your blood ran far colder than you thought it would as he approached you.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He taunted, a fake pout adorning his features. “Thought I’d let you off easy? After today?”

Izuku raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes at the realization that you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Wow, you really are a slut aren’t you? Clinging to Bakugou so shamelessly today?” He scowled looked over you.

Your eyes widened, lips parting as you remembered grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt, pulling him towards you earlier that day in a plea for help.

“Did you think he would help you?” He sneered. “Bakugou’s just like me. He doesn’t care about a whore like you. Did you think that if you pushed against him like that he’d cave? Fold because your perfect body was flush on him?”

Izuku took your face between his pointer and thumb, spitting venom at you, waiting for you to respond. His compliment flew over your head.

“N-no.” Yes. “I swear Izuku… I- I didn’t-”

“You- you- you didn’t what?” Izuku responded, mocking your miserable stutter. “You’re my toy. Pisses me off when you let other people play with you.”

And then he’s dragging you towards his room, pulling you into the cramped space and closing the door behind him. He’s muttering like he usually does, pushing you onto his bed so you’re sitting on the edge.

Why were you so relieved right now? Why was your cunt already sticky with arousal? Why did every single word he was saying to you go straight south? You take your bottom lip between your teeth trying to find a way to shake your head in protest— to get up and leave— but the movement just wouldn’t come. Instead, you hang your head, eyebrows pulled up and cheeks flushed with heat as he stares you down.

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hardly audible over the sound of his frustrated breathing and your own rampant heart beat. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

Izuku scoffed this time, stepping forward and taking your face in his hands again.

“Haven’t done anything?” His words are venomous and his face is inches from yours, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. Were his hands always this big? “Dressing like that and saying you ‘haven’t done anything’?”

His eyes flit down to the fat of your thighs, free hand groping the flesh hungrily, hard enough that it had you sucking in a sharp breath. Izuku couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss.

Truth was, you drove Izuku batshit crazy. Right from the moment he saw you he could hardly contain himself, prancing around in that tiny fucking skirt with an ass like that. Daring to act so innocent when he was gripping the edge of his desk to keep from pouncing on you as you introduced yourself to him, as you hung all over his middle school bully, or as you flashed your hot pink panties while in class.

To him, you were asking for it and the way you played dumb only made his blood boil further. Izuku was a nice boy, always had been, but the day that he made you cry, telling you that you kind of looked like a slut in your skirt, was the day he knew that he’d have way too much fun with you.

Your eyes got so big, welled up so quickly with tears that he knew were caused by him. It made him proud, made his chest swell at how quickly he could completely ruin your day. This must be how Bakugou felt, to some degree, except chances are that he wasn’t thinking about what your puffy, swollen lips might look like when you’re choking on his cock.

He’d been thinking about it since he met you. Pushing you further and further because you were just so fucking cute when you cried and if he couldn’t consume your thoughts because you like him, then he’d have to settle for consuming them because you’re afraid of him.

You grunted against him, eyes going wide as his lips crashed into yours. You were spinning, heart pounding as his tongue dipped into your mouth hungrily. He pulled away from you quickly.

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, looking like that.” Izuku seethed. “If you’re gonna play clueless, y’might as well make use of yourself. S’what you deserve.”

And without asking he pushed you from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You knew where it was going, knew that Izuku wasn’t going to let up because this boundary was being crossed. Still, you shamefully rubbed your thighs together, blinking up at him in confusion and arousal.

“Such a whore.” He said, freeing his cock from his pants and letting it slap against his stomach. Izuku relished in the way your eyes widened, in the way you unconsciously licked your lips. And then he’s tapping the side of your mouth with his cock, head tilted back in a taunt as he watches the way your eyes brim with premature tears. He’d show you real crying.

“Suck it.” A simple command, but one that had you shivering. He kept his hand on your shoulder while his fingers dug into it with a force that was all too familiar. is cock throbbed in his hands as you sniffled and parted those pretty, glossed lips.

Izuku didn’t wait, no, he couldn’t wait, pushing his full length to the back of your throat and beyond, groaning when it entered the tight, wet space beyond your mouth. His head fell back and his mouth fell open at the way you choked on him. Tears forced their way out of your eyes and down your cheeks as he began fucking your mouth.

“Y-you’re a real crybaby, huh?” He cooed, a lazy half-smirk gracing his face. “You did this to yourself. Such– a fucking– tease.”

He accentuated his words with harsh thrusts into your throat, drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down his cock to his balls. It ran down your chin, mingling with tears as he continued to fuck your throat.

Izuku was big, far bigger than you expected him to be. He completely filled your throat, stretching your unprepared mouth open. You could feel the sides of your mouth pulling at his size, lips cracking as you struggled to take all of him with each of his thrusts. Still, when you looked up at him through big teary eyes, knees growing sore from the way his fist held you to the floor, other hand pulling you against his cock, your cunt grew wet with arousal.

He pulled you off him by your hair, watching the way you gasped and sputtered and sobbed. He loved the scratch in your throat as you coughed and he picked you up by the arm and crawled between your legs.

“Wearing such a tiny skirt to my house.” He spit. “You knew what you were doing, lookin’ like that with your ass out and shit.”

Izuku’s eyes scanned over you hungrily, like he’s been waiting to get you here for so long. Fuck, he still looked big, hovering over you and supporting his entire weight on one of his arms as his other hand wandered down. He flipped up the fabric of your skirt, admiring the way you flinched as his hand ran up your inner thigh.

His hands ran over your figure, squeezing at the fat of your stomach, thighs, and chest. Izuku has been dying to get a piece of you since you met, since he first laid eyes on that frustratingly sexy figure of yours that led him to spiral to this moment. His hands dipped back to your inner thigh, ensuring that your skirt was out of the way, though it was so small already that it proved no obstacle at all.

His breathing grew heavy, hand gently gliding along the supple flesh that he’s pinched so many times, marks from your final day of classes still fading. Izuku’s eyebrows were furrowed together as his hands found your panties, touching you over the fabric that was now soaked through. His eyes snapped to you so fast as he pulled the fabric aside with calloused fingers, wasting no time dipping his fingers into your soaking folds.

“You fucking pervert.” He sneered, glancing down to show you just how wet you’d gotten, all for him. “You like it when I’m mean to you? So fucking dirty.”

Izuku rubbed a swift circle around your clit and you brought your arm up to hide your face, biting into your forearm to muffle the sounds. You shook your head, squeaking out a no as his fingers curled up into you.

“You sure about that? You’re dripping.” Izuku grunted, curling his fingers with his entire forearm and hearing a moan from you. “See? Fucking slut, giving me those eyes, like a lost puppy.”

It was undeniable how you clenched around him and he let out a curt laugh of disbelief.

“Oh… you like that name, don’t you, puppy?” He dipped down to bite at your neck, humming into the skin.

You squirm beneath him but he has you caged in under, your legs unable to move around. Your stomach still turned in fear of him, but that fear was mixing with the intense pleasure building in your core. Even his fingers were a stretch and you could feel his thick cock hitting your abdomen with each aggressive curl, your mind consumed with just how good it would feel for him to break you open. After all, he’s chipped away at almost every ounce of self respect you had. In fact, he practically already owned you mentally, now he was just claiming what he should rightfully own physically.

“I hate girls like you.” He spat, fingers picking up their pace as you were sent barrelling towards your high. “Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me. So fucking stupid. But look at you now— Your cunt is practically drooling on me— pathetic.”

You were close, hot with arousal as he lifted your arm from your face.

“Getting close huh? I can feel your whore cunt clenching. Y’wanna cum?” He grinned widely through furrowed brows.

Your eyes were glossed over, tears spilling onto your cheeks and for a moment Izuku almost felt bad for you. Still though, you were just too fun to fuck with, too fun to absolutely ruin. You looked prettier than he could have imagined right now; face sticky with tears of arousal, embarrassment, and fear. Izuku was a nice boy, he really was, except when it came to you because now he just couldn’t stop himself from ruining your cunt.

You were close, impossibly close as you bit your lip in an attempt to muffle the whiney yes that breached your lips. It was involuntarily, almost a survival response as his fingers continued making that delicious squelching sound. Those years of torment were beginning to twist. You were beginning to convince yourself that no, it wasn’t so bad, it’s okay to want to cream on his fingers and be his good girl.

So you nodded, dew-filled eyes stricken with fear meeting his predatory ones in a confirmation. He was building you up so well, your stomach turning over and over, the knot tightening and set to break. And then he pulled his fingers from you as you clenched around nothing, a blinding orgasm ripped from you all by his fingers. Your back arched up off the bed and pathetic whines left your lips.

“You’ll have to beg for it.” He smirked, sitting back on his knees, discarding your panties with a hard tug and running the head of his cock through your slick while you whimper. “Tell me you like it. C’mon. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you do.”

Right now you were certain you’d do anything if it meant you were allowed to cream over him, so you parted your lips, hiccuping through broken sobs.

“P-please Izu, need to cum.” Your voice was low and quiet.

Izuku pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, glowering down at you as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up over those perfect tits that he couldn’t get enough of. He sucked in a sharp breath, facade falling for a moment until he brought his eyes back to yours.

“You like it when I’m mean, huh? Lemme hear you say it.” Izuku gave a cruel smile, eyes darkened with lust.

“Yes! Yes, I like it.” You shout, hand coming up to grab his arm, speaking through desperate tears. “Please fuck me, please Izu.”

Izuku bottomed out in one fell swoop, hearing all he needed as he throws his head back, a groan of fucking pathetic falling lazily from his lips. He rolled his head across his shoulders, starting to move in and out of you, stretching your cunt open with each push and pull.

“So fucking tight. You a virgin?” His tongue swiped at his teeth as he relished in the stretch and the way pain wet your cheeks.

God, he fucking hated you. Hated every part of you. He hated the way your lips looked so good around him, the way your thighs squeezed so nicely around his waist, the way your tears only egged him on. It all made him want to hurt you. You brought out the worst in him. You were too fucking tempting, too easy.

You weren’t a virgin but the stretch of his cock made you feel like one. God, you could feel him in your throat as you gripped pathetically at his biceps, a plea to get him to slow down. Izuku wouldn’t listen though, pounding into your gummy walls mercilessly.

“Not gonna answer?” He laughed, low and threatening before folding your knees to your chest. “Tells me all I need to know. How many men have fucked this cunt of yours, huh? Bet it’s more than I can count on one hand.”

Izuku brought his hand up to your face once more, squeezing your plump cheeks together.

“Don’t worry, puppy. Gonna make it so you can’t take anyone else.” He spits in your mouth, forcing it closed. “Fuckin’ mine now, yeah? My little whore, always have been, right?”

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing sloppily as spit drips down your chin and tears streak from your eyes. Where did he learn to speak like this?

“Say it.”

You’re close again, so full of him, so desperate for him to give you what you want. You can’t resist him, so you might as well submit. Maybe it will make everything easier because you were finding it harder to pretend that you didn’t like it now.

“Yours, m’yours.” You choke out, hand flying to his large one to move it over your throat. “Belong only to you.”

Izuku squeezed the sides of your neck with startling force. It’s almost hateful in how strong it was but it made you whine out against him, voice raking against vocal chords that he forced closed.

“Slut. S-such a slut.” He stuttered as you clenched around him, hitting your high with a roll of your hips and a pathetic whimper. “C’mon, gimme it, puppy.”

Oh god, the pay off was unbelievable. The way you whined his name was better than any sob he pulled from you to date.You were so helpless,your body wracking with waves of pleasure and your pussy clamping down around him. This is what he saw in you the first time he made you cry— this expression. He knew you could make it, eyes big and wide, filled with tears and your mouth open in a deep moan. Fuck, he loved it.

“God, so tight. Good puppy, good fucking puppy.” He fucked into you faster, chasing his own high now as he assaulted your overstimulated cunt.

Your head spun, no longer preoccupied with the taunting or the tormenting. You were stupid on his cock, his good little puppy, like you were meant to be. You should have given in earlier, should have let him shove his dick down your throat sooner because even though you were struggling to get off his fat cock, you couldn’t, and you loved every single second of it. Izuku was only mean to you, only mean to his puppy.

You’re so overstimulated, barreling towards another orgasm and now all you can think about is how bad you want him to fill you up.

“C-cum inside.” You managed to choke out between pathetic sobs and whimpers. You’re crying for it, begging. “Please cum inside of me.”

Izuku let out a low chuckle before bottoming out one final time, shoving his thick fingers down your throat and filling you up. When Izuku came, he came a lot. It flooded your cunt before leaking out the sides where he had you split open. Izuku couldn’t hide his true nature for long, his thighs beginning to quiver and a low groan becoming a high pitched whine as he emptied his balls inside of you like he’d been wanting to for so long.

He stayed there for a moment before pulling out of you and crouching down to watch the way he spilled out of you, admiring your ruined pussy and body. You’re stretched out from him, tears staining your cheeks and cunt gaping from his cock.

And then he’s biting at your thighs, marking up the inside of your leg as you can barely manage to push out a squeal. He’s leaving the marks he’s always wanted to. Those pinches on the inside of your leg were a stand in for the ones he’d create with his teeth. He nipped at the sensitive skin before dipping his tongue into your folds to collect the mixture of him and you in his mouth.

Izuku watched the way you twitched as he cleaned you up, admiring the way your legs flinched whenever he ran his tongue over your sensitive clit. He’s much gentler now but his eyes still frightened you when he came up from between your legs to spit the mixture of cum and arousal back into your slightly parted mouth, ordering you to swallow puppy.

When you finally do— too tired and fucked out to think about protesting, he smiles— standing up off the bed and buttoning his pants with a heaving sigh.

Izuku turned back to your form on the bed, watching the way your chest heaved and the way your pleated skirt crowded at your hips, ruined cunt on display and shirt pushed up over your bitten up breasts. He made a mental note to remember to take your clothes off next time.

tags: @namrekcaivel , @mikaberries , @cleardamage , @veroyktv , @honeyzawa , @erenstellar , @female-titan , @kiyoobi , @pancakesv , @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein , @lazyezstudy , @jeanbabygirl , @peachysimp , @kirsteiiins , @babybottlepop96 , @ayannamika , @fiaficsxo , @chittaphon96

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yanderechuu · 3 years

Note

do any of the teachers ever notice the things happening to y/n? (i headcannon Mic and Midnight as yanderes that would give advice to 1A lol)

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[2.1K]

Summary: Aizawa is the first one you approached in regards to your certain predicament.

Warning: nonconsensual recording

│

Aizawa suspected something wasn’t quite right by the moment he saw you entering the class a minute before the bell rang, all haggard and teary-eyed, though you tried your best to obscure your disposition. He always knew you to often be in a state of discomfort whenever you were compelled to socialize, especially with your classmates, but now - you looked as if you reached your limit of holding the weight of the world on your shoulders, crashing down all at once as depicted on your crestfallen expression.

And when you showed up in front of the faculty room, timidly soliciting his presence, his suspicions were only further verified. Even with a pending question regarding subject matters in your mind, you weren’t one to approach a teacher to inquire about it, and if you did it was because the teacher was the one who would ask your attendance; never the other way around.

Present Mic was the first one to acknowledge you. He stood up from his office chair, waving at you comically. “Yo, (l/n)! Having trouble with English again?”

You never had a problem with his subject; he only insisted that you’d come to him in regards to that. “N-no, not really. May I speak to Aizawa-sensei?”

“Talk with me instead!” He enthusiastically spoke and headed over to you. “Come on, what’s the matter?”

“It isn’t your place to ask that when I’m here.” Aizawa interceded, clearly unimpressed by Mic’s antics. He failed to see the latter’s displeased countenance. “(L/n), what is it?”

You avoided eye contact with him, averting your view to the ground - that was alright. You were always like this, and he didn’t mind. Nothing out of place except for the fact that it looked as if you were about to cry any moment now.

“Can we- can we, um, talk somewhere more private?” You asked quietly.

His brows raised in wonder at your request. Nevertheless, he didn’t decline you, only nodding lackadaisically before heading towards the teacher’s lounge, where you followed him suit. He flicked the door tag to ‘occupied’ and entered the room after you, when he told you sit on the three-person sofa situated not quite on the farthest left of the space. Then, he settled himself on the chair across you.

“Well?” He asked, expectantly.

But you had once again your head above a thick cloud of anxiety. You knew that after the event with Momo in the girls’ locker room - where you had injured her against your will because she had been violating your personal space - your homeroom teacher kept a cautious eye on you in case you’d re-enact that incident. And it wasn’t just that incident that made him look at you like you were a criminal on the loose, either. Your classmates found and did a lot of ways to place you in Aizawa’s naughty list just so you wouldn’t snitch on their abusive (they’d call it affectionate) behavior on you.

That didn’t erase the fact that you were nevertheless his student; he cared for you no less than he cared for his other pupils, yet you were just too ignorant in figuring that out. All that mattered to you was that you’d voice out your current concern to him, but with your insecurities holding you down it seemed it would be more difficult than you had primarily foreseen it to be.

“I-I,” you stammered out, fiddling with something inside your pocket, “u-um, you see, t-there’s this, I mean, I can’t-”

He grew increasingly frustrated with your constant stuttering, and although he did understand your shy nature which largely affected your conversational habits, he only had so much patience to deal with it.

“I don’t have all day.” He stated, glowering at your form in mild irritation. “If you’re going to keep doing that, talk to the wall.”

You abruptly halted in speaking after that, only looking down on your lap, staring wide-eyed, grief-stricken at the revelation that perhaps he really did not want to heed any of your words because you were just that bad of a student that he had decided you were not worth much the effort to concern himself with. And maybe he was right - that your words didn’t matter because you didn’t matter; that there were more affairs he better be tending to than yours; that you were only making a big deal out of this when it truthfully wasn’t.

Oh god, you felt like vomiting. Self-deprecation was getting the better of you.

He stood up and sauntered to the exit, not bothering to spare you a glance. “Come back to me when you actually know what you want to say.”

It was a matter of seconds when you ran to him, pulling him back rather harshly by the grip you had on his sleeve. He turned around due to the force to see your head still hung low, avoiding his gaze as always - only, your shoulders were quivering sporadically, and occasional sniffs were heard from your person.

“P-please, sensei...” you voiced out, shaken and horrifyingly delicate. “I-I’m so scared. Please.”

While he looked at you with contracted irises, countenance now alert from your unexpected disposition, you pulled your trembling hand out of your skirt pocket, nervously disclosing to him from your palm a small, black device with a tiny yet prominent lens.

“M-my room,” you heaved, “I-I saw this i-in my room, m-my closet, while- while I was dressing up, and I don’t know how long it had been in there but it probably already caught me bare and-”

You broke down in a flurry misery and shame, allowing yourself to fall to the ground but you didn’t - Aizawa seized you in his arms, his gentle, fatherly arms that could only do so much to console you from the horror of your reality. And he held your head as you cried on his chest, one little thing he could do after ignoring your situation and letting you think that your significance was less than the rest of his other students. At that moment, you were just so little, so fragile, so naïve he’d keep you in his pocket if he could. Why would someone do something as debauched as illegally recording your innocent self?

“I’m sor-sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m really telling the truth, p-please-”

“Shh, it’s okay. I don’t doubt you.” He reassured. Why were you apologizing? Were you that insecure of being a nuisance? No, no, you never were. Not to him. He reached for your hand to take the cursed device. “Since when did you find out?”

“J-just this morning.” You responded.

“Alright. Do you want to rest? This must have taken a huge toll on you.”

But you still had classes ongoing. Then again, you didn’t feel like looking at the faces of the prime suspects who possibly did you dirty, even when you knew that you’d have to eventually interact with them to get notes of your missed lessons. You were so tired from summoning the lot of your courage to confront your teacher regarding your problem, so you probably wouldn’t have the energy to listen to class discussion. Aizawa finalized your decision by pulling you up and guiding you towards the office of Recovery Girl who, after being briefed of your predicament by your homeroom teacher, welcomed you with a warm smile, telling you to make yourself comfortable in one of the beds in the infirmary.

He then made his way to 1A classroom, a newfound swelling of rage and disappointment in his chest, both forwarded to his class and to himself because only now did he realize that perhaps you were often so restless and apprehensive in the presence of your classmates because they did things that made you bury yourself in the deepest parts of your shell as a last attempt to revel in a sense of safety. Your timidity was not entirely derived from your own nature; it was also due to the maltreatment you were receiving from your classmates. Halting his steps by the classroom door, he looked through the glass window, seeing the class focusing on Midnight’s lecture.

Well, not quite. He could tell that your classmates were visibly affected by the lack of your presence, glancing at your desk from time to time as quiz papers were being passed behind - so they were in the middle of a test, he guessed. But that wasn’t his concern.

In impudent manner, he walked in amid Midnight’s talking, disregarding her face’s sudden morphing into vexation as the students gave him a look of confusion.

“Eraser, what are you-” she was rudely interrupted as Aizawa took the test reference papers from her hands. Something about Modern Hero Art History, he read. He faced his class with disdain, stating,

“Until someone confesses their crime of hiding a spy camera on (l/n)’s dorm room, all of you are receiving failing marks on this test.”

Quite suddenly, the class burst into violent upheaval, gasping, perking, some allowing the dreadful news of your situation to sink in, others letting out noises of complaint before actually taking consideration to the main point of Aizawa’s statement. Midnight stared at him in disbelief, but did nothing to stop his measures.

Momo abruptly stood. “I-is (y/n) okay? We should go check on her!”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Aizawa said. “All of you are suspects. You’ve no right to see her.”

“She probably just made that up get back on us for whatever fucking reason!” Yelled Bakugou.

“Yeah?” The male pro-hero disingenuously mused. He then picked up the spy camera and held it for everyone to see, before setting it down the teacher’s podium. “This was found on her closet. Would she risk recording herself naked just to prove that point?”

Noise died down thereafter, setting their sights solemnly at the device, the class collectively having the same thought in regards to the spy camera.

(Why hadn’t they thought of that? It could have been easier to check on you that way, since you almost always confined yourself in the privacy of your own room.)

“So? No one wants to speak up?” Aizawa asked, though expected the silence.

“Aizawa, have them approach you after classes. It’s embarrassing this way.” Midnight intervened.

“Well that’s the point. Get them exposed to the entire class, so everyone could realize how much of a perverted bastard one of these to-be heroes are. Good values, my ass.” He replied, not bothering to filter rather colorful vocabulary. “Where’s your dignity?”

He let a minute or two pass for the perpetrator to reveal themselves, but soon it became apparent that whomever they were refused to admit to their crime, willing to sacrifice the grades of the class for the sake of anonymity. That would be deemed useless, anyway, because Aizawa was already set on figuring out whom they were, no matter the extent he’d go to in order for that to happen. He’d expel them at once.

But he didn’t have the power to expel someone outside of his class.

“I guess that’s it for your test.” He sighed, disgruntled, picking up the small camera and sauntering his way out of the classroom after giving Midnight a look that he was dead serious with marking all of them a failing score. She stared at him in uncertainty, nonetheless abided by his decisions, albeit hesitantly.

Upon ascertaining his absence, Midnight turned to Class 1A, amusement and humor dancing on her seductive countenance.

“Naïve, hormonal teenagers,” she mused, “the closet, really? Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere less conspicuous?”

None of them bothered to tell her that they were truthfully unaware of the incident.

===

Hagakure Toru, stealth hero, entered your room silently in the nude, the only proof of her movements being a tinier, different spy camera she’d brought along with her. No, not the closet, you might find it again. It looked so painfully obvious on the desk, too, and neither in the bathroom due to its pale white interior.

But on the pencil holder situated atop your nightstand would do. You barely moved it, anyway, only having its purpose served as a decoration; something to fill the vacancy of the bedside table. After a few adjustments in camouflaging the device with the environment and making sure the lens displayed the area of your space, Hagakure checked its concealment one more time, before mechanically heading outside and back to her own dorm.

Her body collided almost violently with her room’s door, snapping her out of her trance.

“H-huh!? Weird... how’d I end up in my room?” She asked, receiving no answer from particularly anyone.

But Shinso Hitoshi could provide her one, if only he weren’t outside, staring at your terrace from five stories down your room, a gratifying smirk donned on his features. Now, the only thing he had to do was dismantle and relocate the gadgets wirelessly connected with the camera Aizawa had confiscated.

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