#SCREAMING CRYING PUKING PULLING MY HAIR PUNCHING THE WALL BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL

[countrygalbitch]

"I needed you, my coven"

By the way, since Lilia experiences the entire timeline at the same time and not linearly, she's known her coven for her whole entire life, all 450 years of it—even if she doesn't realise it until the end.

They've always been there, because the flow of time is an illusion. They've always been with her. And as she reads her tarot spread, she realises it.

They're her family.

They always have been.

The gaps finally filled it.

She didn't die in a fake reality to save a group she'd known for 24 hours.

She died to save a group whose presence she's felt in her heart for hundreds of years.

Whose presence she lacked, like a memory she couldn't grasp. Nostalgia she couldn't quite place anywhere. Nostalgia for something you've never even had.

Because she had them.

In the future—she always had them.

And she was always going to protect them.

And even in death—

She's still with them.

Still fighting to protect them.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 8 - Familiar

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it him?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington​ is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Alex sat at his drum set, sticks in hand, and began hitting things at random. Watching the cymbals wobble at dramatic angles every time he made a blow, hearing the crash ring in his ears over and over, making the toms sound da-da-dum in a roll, like his frustration could finally sound out something that fit what he meant to get across. His mom had bought him a punching bag last Christmas in a passive aggressive insistence that he needed a quiet thing to hit if he was going to get things out. Sure, he used it, but only when he actually wanted to work out. He made sure she knew so she couldn’t complain to him about wasting her money on such an expensive gift.

He needed the drums specifically. His thoughts and feelings couldn’t always come out of his mouth, but they were definitely sounds. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t make them with his own tongue. The only time he’d gotten close was when he and Willie had been screaming over the railing of the observation deck at the Stratosphere a few weeks ago.

Today’s tantrum (and preceding argument) was over school. He was a good student, but the way things were going with Sunset Curve, Alex had little desire to continue. What was another year of subjects he already grasped the concept of when he had no plans to use them? It was a circular conversation at this point, like most things he had with his parents lately. Sometimes he could nod and pretend to just accept whatever they said, but other times they got under his skin. They got in like termites, making anything that was stable inside before feel hollow and weak.

A knock sounded at the door and Alex stilled his cymbals before getting up to answer it. It was his younger sister, Abby.

“You have a phone call,” she told him. Her tone was sassy, but Alex smiled a little at hearing it mirror his own. She was learning. He was proud. Messing up her hair as he moved past her, he went over to the phone and grabbed the receiver.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered, knowing it could only be one of three people on the other end.

“Hey, man.” It was Bobby. “Luke’s been having a rough day. He won’t say that it’s because Julie is heading out to finish her tour soon, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s about. Reggie and I are thinking we take him to the pier; hopefully we can distract him.”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Alex said. “I can meet you at your place in about five minutes.”

“Sweet, dude, see ya.”

They hung up and Alex grabbed his fanny pack, slipping outside without saying a word to anyone. If his parents weren’t used to it by now that was their fault.

Less than an hour later, all the guys were on the boardwalk, surrounded by the many games and rides at Santa Monica. Someone else was busking in the corner they usually occupied, playing a saxophone and they each dropped some change in the tin set out before them. Luke was bouncy and energetic for the most part, but relatively quiet. A few thrill rides would break the silence soon enough, though.

They all walked with their arms around each other’s shoulders, forming a wall that forced anyone else to move around them. Alex had made sure Luke was in the middle, sandwiched between him and Reggie, with Bobby on Reggie’s other side. It didn’t last long, thanks to Alex’s long legs getting them all out of sync, but they still liked doing it. Soon it was just Luke and Reggie, letting Bobby and Alex walk slightly ahead on their own.

“We wanna get something to eat first?” Luke suggested.

“And blow chunks on the rides?” Alex responded. “Kinda not in the mood to pay for my own puke, thank you.”

The look of slight horror on Luke’s face made Bobby laugh.

“Thanks, Alex, for that,” Luke was saying.

“Guys, there’s a short line over here!” Reggie was already heading toward one of the rides, eyes bright with excitement. Alex held out a hand so Bobby could go before him, receiving a head shake of denial before he followed him and pulled Luke along behind. It was a two-seater anyway, and even if Alex weren’t trying to give them a nudge, having Reggie scream in front of him was far better than directly into his ears.

He usually didn’t scream on the rides as much, but he took the opportunity this time. It felt great. Willie had unknowingly given him a gift in that simple act of emptying his lungs into the air. Ride after ride, he wanted to lose his voice to all the things he let out. The safety guards didn’t quite feel like Willie’s hands grabbing onto his jacket, but he wanted to pretend. Among all the realities he kept near his chest, it was alright to imagine he still had Willie there - smiling, giggling, hands open to be held.

He’d had a good amount of time to bang it out once they’d gotten home. Alex broke more sticks that day than he ever had in his life. The main reason he stopped was because Abby came to his room crying, both because she was extremely annoyed and could tell something was wrong. Maybe his parents weren’t much for support, but he was grateful for her. He was also glad she was only nine and was still a huge cuddle bug.

After getting dizzy on rides, Luke was finally at full energy again and had moved them onto games. Alex preferred to watch, but Luke and Bobby were competitive while Reggie cheered for both.

“Is this what it was like in the arcade?” Alex asked, elbowing Reggie as he hollered at Bobby trying to throw a basketball in the net.

“You bet!” Reggie turned with a smile. “We went lo-co.” He enunciated the last word. “You got this Bobby!”

Luke had finished his turn and come up with nothing, so he joined the other two.

“Okay, after this, I’m hungry so I say we get hot dogs,” he told them.

“Yes,” Alex agreed, feeling hungry himself.

Suddenly Reggie began cheering, and they turned to see Bobby celebrating as well as he made a final shot into the hoop. The guy working the booth let him choose from their ridiculously large stuffed animals, and he grabbed a giant puppy. Reggie’s excitement overcame him and once Bobby was facing his direction, Reggie butted his forehead against him, leaving Bobby blinking in confusion. Yikes, Alex thought. They were going to take a long time to sort things out.

Luke guided them all to his favorite hot dog vendor and they all sat at a table that was placed along a wall covered in posters. Alex positioned himself facing away from the table. Sometimes they liked to scout venues they hadn’t tried playing at yet, and it had been a while since they had come to the pier to check the wall. The missing person posters had become more numerous in their corner, which was a sad change. Alex saw one for the Viper Room and nearly had the impulse to cross himself reverently for the sake of Rivers Phoenix. 

He unfortunately spotted a familiar face among the missing person posters. Luke’s parents were still hoping he would come back home. He peeked up at the rest of the guys, all bent over their food too far to pay attention, and decided he didn’t need to say anything. The whole thing with the Pattersons was touchy for all of them, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up.

Taking a bite into his own hot dog, Alex looked back up and caught the picture beneath Luke. It was a young boy, aged nine, with dark hair growing over his ears.

William was the only name associated with him, but it listed other things like ‘missing since 1988,’ and ‘last seen in Reno, NV’ and a physical description. Alex furrowed his brow and slowly chewed the rest of his bite as he lifted a hand to pat Reggie on the back.

“Hey, you - you don’t think that’s Willie, do you?” he asked quietly, pointing at the poster. Reggie looked over his shoulder at the kid in the picture. He returned a look of sympathy to Alex.

“Alex,” he said softly. “I know you miss him, buddy, but sometimes a kid is just a random kid. We’ve probably seen his poster every time we’ve been here and just never cared. I hope the little dude’s okay, though.” He glanced back at the picture before facing forward again.

“Yeah,” Alex huffed lightly. “You’re probably right.” He flipped himself around to face the rest of the guys at the table and finish his food, ignoring the pit in his chest.

Julie sat by her mom’s side, holding her hand gently and feeling her breathe as she rested soundly. She was going to hate leaving in the morning, but she only had to finish this leg of the tour and then she could be home. They had made plans together to make scrapbooks about her shows, and she wasn’t going to miss it. Her mom always knew how to motivate her, and she was really grateful for that.

One of the nurses entered the room and gave her a sweet smile. She had kind, squinting eyes and her black hair was tied into a bun that had since loosened up.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just making some checks, doing some cleaning, this and that,” she said.

“I don’t mind at all,” Julie assured her. It was hardly the first time she’d been around while one of the nurses was doing their routines. Something about it had become calming, like it let her know that her mom was in good hands.

“She’s so proud of you,” the woman said among her movements.

Looking up, Julie felt her chest straining to hold the weight that had entered. She couldn’t help but take those words as heavy as they could come.

“I’m sure she tells you, but if you weren’t already making a name for yourself the entire hospital would know who you are by now anyway.”

“She talks a lot, huh?” Julie asked solemnly, a hint of a smile pulling the corners of her mouth.

The nurse raised her eyebrows.

“When she’s having a good day, she’s the best to be around.”

Julie nodded.

“That’s my mom,” she said quietly, smiling.

They both were quiet as the nurse continued about her work.

“Do you have any kids?” Julie asked.

The nurse chuckled.

“Quite a few, actually. I have six. Well, seven, but six at home with me.”

“Wow!” Julie couldn’t imagine handling that big of a family.

“Some of them are older than you, but my youngest is ten now. Most of them just go off and do their own thing or take care of each other.”

“Does the seventh have their own family?”

Pausing, the nurse seemed to blink strangely. She took in a deep breath and then went back to the sheet she had been folding.

“No, unfortunately, we lost him,” she said, the warmth she had spoken with earlier a little more withdrawn.

Julie immediately felt bad for asking, and she seemed to freeze at the tension.

“Don’t be sorry,” the nurse said. “I don’t mean he passed away. We don’t know where he is.”

A horrific realization swept over Julie as she realized there was something more terrifying than the death of a loved one. Not knowing where they were or if they were okay - it sounded like hell. A well of pity deepened inside her heart.

“Has it been a long time?” she asked tentatively.

The nurse nodded.

“It’s hard to let go,” she said, almost sounding like she was changing the subject. “But we all figure out something that helps us carry on.” She straightened with her clipboard in hand at Rose’s bedside.

“What did you find?” Julie asked, genuinely hoping it was a good answer.

The nurse’s eyes glistened as she smiled wistfully.

“Never forgetting,” she said. “But I think you’ve already found something that will help you.”

Julie cocked her head to the side, not understanding what she meant.

“My niece is a big fan, by the way,” the woman said, bowing her head down as she exited the room.

A small noise from her mom made Julie turn to see her eyes slowly opening up.

“Hey, mom,” she said softly, leaning closer to her.

Rose smiled and rubbed her thumb over Julie’s hand.

“Sweetie, hi,” she responded in a raspy voice. “You’re gonna play a mini show for that nurse’s niece, too, aren’t you?”

Julie chuckled. Of course she could overhear them.

“I’m thinking about it,” she told her.

Quietly shutting the front door behind him, Alex surveyed his family’s dark front room before tip-toeing up the stairs to his room. Thank goodness his dad wasn’t reading in the living room this time. He was always guaranteed to be caught when that happened. Once he got to his bedroom he took off his hat and fanny pack and was pulling his hoodie over his head when he heard a small knock. Dammit, he’d be so close.

Opening his door, he looked down to see Abby in her pajamas holding something behind her back.

“Abby, god,” he whispered. “I thought you were gonna be mom.”

She shyly shook her head. Her little blonde braids made small shuffling noises as they barely reached past her shoulders.

“What did you want?” Alex asked her.

“I wanted to show you my picture,” she told him quietly.

Any other night he would’ve sent her back to her room to show him in the morning, but her cuteness was a weapon and Alex was oddly weak tonight.

“Come here,” he said, nodding his head to let her inside. He patted the space beside him on his bed. She grinned as she sat cross-legged and held up the picture.

Alex could definitely identify himself, because she always drew him with his fanny pack on. There was also what appeared to be Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

“Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing to a fifth person in the picture.

“It’s your other friend. I don’t know their name. I heard you talking about them.”

Alex sat back and looked at her, not sure if he was mad about it or not. He tried to be cryptic in his conversations over the phone with the guys, especially if they brought up Willie, so how she picked up on anything was almost impressive.

“Do you not like it?” Abby wondered.

Shaking his head, Alex put his arm around her and squeezed her into his side.

“Abby, this is great!” he assured. “I just didn’t know you paid such good attention.”

“I have good hearing, you know,” she stated proudly. Alex chuckled and gave her a light noogie. “Heeeyy!!” She put up her hands to get him off of her.

“Look at this, though!” he said, pointing to the drawing. “You even got that he has long hair!”

“It’s a boy?” she exclaimed, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. “You have a crush on a boy?”

Alex’s jaw hung open a few seconds too long and immediately felt his body begin to shake and all words were caught in his throat.

“I know what that’s like, Alex,” Abby was saying, in her sassy way. It was enough to reboot his brain.

“Wait, how do you know that? You’re nine!” He looked at her like she was his odd sister again.

Abby simply shrugged.

“Not telling you about it,” was all she said. “And your boy sounds cute.”

The emotion that took over was too good to just be relief. Alex pulled her into a tight hug, seriously trying not to cry. They sat like that for a minute until he got afraid of crushing her.

“You’re a stinker,” he told her, rubbing her back and lightly kissing the top of her head. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, Alex,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.

“Alright, now go to bed, okay?” He let go of her and she hopped off the bed and out the door. Seeing it shut behind her, Alex climbed under the sheets and lay on his back, exhaling sharply. She had been kept out of that conversation long enough, he guessed. It barely even had to be one with her. He let a few tears leak out before aggressively wiping them off his face and turning on his side. Man, did he need some shut-eye.

[jennygirl2014]

“Red Is Your Color”-requested fic- Part 1

(A/N:- Here it is, the first part of the request. I hope it finds the nonnie who requested it but nothing I post gets seen anymore so this will probably get lost in tumblr space too. And if it pops up on your dash I hope you enjoy. Oh and I struggle with the whole “Y/N” thing so I just put it in the first person. Sorry.)

Warnings: language, angsty feels.

              Come out and party with us, they said.  It will be fun, they said.  I didn’t know what the hell was so fun about an overcrowded room and terrible music blaring.  It was hot, almost to the point of being sticky.  The smell of booze and cheap cologne and perfume was everywhere, and it lingered when a couple walked by, to the point where I could almost taste it. Maybe I outgrew this sort of thing, maybe I got it out of my system years ago.  Maybe I had changed.  I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve been with someone who didn’t like going out and partying, you end up deciding to stay in with them and cuddle on the couch, or cook a good meal, or play a game of cards.  Sex with that one person seems infinitely better than going out and trying to recreate the same feelings with a stranger.  I guess what’s what maturity looks like.  Maturity also means moving on.  So why was I at some stupid party with the hopes of seeing her, the new woman?  Being glutton for punishment never got me anywhere good.

“Don’t you want a drink?” my friend asked me, leaning in to speak over the booming.  She was trying to dance, bless her heart.  Her lipstick was smeared above her lip, evidence of meeting someone in the bathroom earlier.  I didn’t want a drink, I wanted to see this new woman and then get the hell out of there.  Why was I even invited to that stupid party when everyone knew my ex would be there? It was no secret that we had broken up, after two long, happy years.  I heard the rumors, that he had moved on rather fast, found himself somebody new.  Everyone expected me to do that, to find someone the week after I had kicked him out of my apartment after a heated fight. I denied the rumors, saying that wasn’t like him.  But people change.  I thought maybe I had, maybe he did too.

“No,” I finally thought to answer.  I was far too consumed in my own little world to pay attention to anything else. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“There’s a line,” my friend stated, “Best use the one upstairs to the right.”

“Thanks.” I thanked her for the advice and made my way through the crowd.  Unfamiliar bodies bumped into me, making me grit my teeth. The place was disgusting, and I didn’t even know who it belonged to.   The stairs magically appeared in front of me, finally, and I climbed them with haste. “To the right.” I spoke to myself, keeping on task.  There was a door, blue with chipped paint and a silly fake anchor on it.  It had to be the bathroom.  I knocked, I thought I heard something.  I knocked again.

“Just a second, jeez!” a woman’s voice called out from inside. The door flung open rather quickly, and there stood a woman with disheveled hair and a flushed face.  Her stony cold eyes met mine with a shocked expression, as if accusing me of rushing her out of whatever predicament had her so flushed and out of breath.  I didn’t care about her personal business, at least I thought I didn’t. Not until I saw him.

              There stood my ex, he was against the wall next to the toilet, with a face that said he was as shocked to see me as I was him. His face was a nice shade of pink, his lips parted, as if he was ready to speak but didn’t know what to say. His hair was a mess, his grey Henley shirt was twisted in a way that had me knowing I had just interrupted something. I interrupted him.  With his new woman. Wearing the shirt I bought for him last year.  It would have been less awkward to see him sitting on that toilet than standing next to it, behind closed doors with her.  I peeled my eyes off of him and turned back to see the woman, a pretty little petite piece of angel food cake if I ever saw one.  She quickly yanked the skirt of her dress lower.  And I swear I saw a hickey on her neck.  

              Fuck.  I wanted proof, but I didn’t want it like this, literally staring me in the face. So it was true.  And then I felt it all at once, rage, humiliation, sadness, anger, depression, anxiety, all of it slapped me in the face.  More than that, it slapped me in the face with a brick, punched me in the gut, and then stole all of my candy before running me over with its bike.  Whatever it was.  The truth. It was the truth.  It was the consequences of my actions. It was knowing that I had made a mistake going to that party, looking for proof of that rumor, dumping him and then pretending like everything was fine.  

I had to say something. “Hey Steve.” I was happy to have found words without puking, or crying. Or both.

“Hey…” he said it back. He sounded slightly embarrassed. Or maybe it was just me hoping that he was.  My eyes fell to the floor, not daring to show any signs of the extreme distress I was feeling.

“Are you gonna stand there, or are you gonna move?” she fussed at me.  I cut my eye at her, but stepped to the side without starting a fight.  She stormed out, huffing and offended.  Next came Steve, and I kept my head down, not wanting to look at him.  He walked past me, only pausing momentarily.  I don’t know if he looked at me as he left the bathroom, I didn’t want to know, but I watched as his feet marched down the hallway.

              I stepped inside, closed the bathroom door and locked it.  I didn’t even have to pee anymore, I just needed to be alone.  I took a few steps closer to the toilet and looked around the tiny bathroom, taking in the space that he had just been in, with another woman. Hell I could still smell his damn cologne in there.  Why didn’t I just stay home?  I sat my pathetic ass down on the edge of the tub and looked at the hideous blue and white tiled floor, wishing it would swallow me whole.  How was I going to make my way down the stairs, collect my tipsy friend and get out of there without seeing him again?  I didn’t want to.  I didn’t think I could take it.  But I knew I deserved it, I knew I had no right to be upset.  I dumped him, he didn’t dump me, it wasn’t even mutual. I had no right to be upset.  Right?

“I don’t understand what I did wrong!” Steve raised his voice at me. I ignored him and kept tossing his clothes in a suitcase.  No rhyme or reason, no folding, just grabbing armfuls and chucking.  “Will you just answer me?” he shouted from behind me. I spun around with an icy glare, surely he had to have some knowledge and common sense.

“Have you been listening to me at all?” I thought up a better response, “Oh wait a second, no you haven’t, because you’re never fucking around!” I turned back to my task, getting him and his shit out of my apartment and out of my life. He rushed to my side and tried to pull those clothes out of the suitcase, but I didn’t let him.  I slammed the top of the suitcase shut, catching his fingers and causing him to curse under his breath.

“Stop it!  I’ve already told you! I have to work!  I can’t just quit!” he argued with me.

“Quit, no, nobody expects that of you.  But forgive me, as your girlfriend I was expecting you to make time for me! To show me I mattered even a little bit!  Instead you just keep showing me you don’t give a shit!” I angrily clasped his suitcase closed and stared him dead in the eyes.  He already looked defeated.

“I’m trying.  I’m trying my best.  I don’t know what more you want from me.”

“So, you really aren’t listening then!” I shouted angrily.  Flames were nipping at my skin, I knew my face was red with anger, and yet I could feel tears starting to well.  The thought of him seeing tears at that moment was scary, this was not a moment of weakness.

“So, what’s the plan?” his tone suddenly changed. “You kick me to the curb and find someone with a boring desk job?  Someone who you can push around with that piss poor attitude of yours?  Make sure they’re home every night by six, that they’re paying the electric bill…” he trailed off as he stood up straight and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Shut the fuck up.” The command came out of my mouth without even thinking it through.

“You’ll get bored of the next guy.  Then what?”

“I said shut the fuck up!” I screamed and grabbed hold of the suitcase.  The weight of it caught me off guard once it left the bed, and it dragged me down.  I had to grip the handle with both hands and drag it down the hallway.  He followed me in hot pursuit, taunting me.  

“I’m sorry I’m not around to text or chat every second of every day but let’s be clear, one of the things you like about me is how exciting my job is.  You like the looks you get while going out on my arm.  The recognition my job gets me.”

“Fuck you!” the words puffed out while my body knocked against the hallway walls and the cumbersome suitcase.  It banged on my ankles enough to hurt.  The sliding door to the balcony was only a couple steps away. I would show him how serious I was.  

“What?  It’s true!  You like being in the spotlight!  But how can you stay in the spotlight if I don’t work?” he made his point clear.  It was clear, but I didn’t care.  I slid the glass door open and stepped out into the nighttime air, hearing the bustling of city life below us.  

“This isn’t about that and you know it!” my gaze fell back onto him once again as he stood in the apartment.  “This is about me needing you in my life and you not bothering to try!” I paused as I drew in a deep breath, trying to compose my shaking voice.  “When we moved in together, we agreed, we would have more time for us.  That’s why we did it.  I stopped working late nights at the bar and gave up good tip money to make sure I had time to be with you.  All I’m getting in return is an empty side of the bed.”

“You didn’t need that tip money anymore because I made sure the bills were paid.” Steve brought out the dagger.  “Are you really going to kick me out of an apartment that I pay most of the rent for?”

Fuck him.

“I got this apartment myself!”

“Yeah when you were working two jobs!  You gonna go out and find yourself another job?” That was all it took.  The weight of his suitcase didn’t seem to bother me as I lifted it onto the balcony railing, and I watched his face change. He knew what was coming.  “Don’t you dare.” He warned me.  With a smirk on my pursed lips I released the damn thing, letting it fall down four stories in the air.  There came the most despicable sound as it hit the sidewalk, the impact causing it to burst open and his clothes littered the ground down below.  His face turned a deep shade of red, and I calmly walked back into the apartment and slammed the sliding door shut.  The sound of car horns rang from below, along with a few people cheering and laughing obnoxiously at this poor man’s expense.  

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” he barked at me.  I shrugged a shoulder and gave a partially sarcastic smile.  Partially only because I was rather proud of myself for my deed.

“Get out.” The words cut through the air like a knife. “It’s over.”

“You know what…” he started, panting with anger.  He pointed a stern finger at me, about to go off, I was sure of it.  “You’re crazy.  You are absolutely out of your mind.” His voice was low, warning me.  Daring me to cross him again.  And I had never seen his eyes that shade in my life.  I wondered if that was what his enemies saw, right before he broke them in half.  Still I stood there, plucky and unamused.  

“Goodbye.” I repeated myself.  

“Fine!” he caved.  He was like a flash or boiling rage storming through that small space, through the kitchen, up to the door that he almost ripped off of the wall.  My feet gently padded in his hot trail, following him to the door to shut it behind him, but he still lingered.  

              He stood in the hallway just beyond the door, his back still to me, but I could see his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breath.  I could see the skin on the back of his neck, just under his hairline, where the collar of his jacket didn’t cover.  His skin was a hot shade of pink, sweltering with emotion.  The emotion must have changed somewhere in his travel out of the apartment, because when he turned and I saw his face, I saw what he was really feeling.  His face was flushed, his jawline had softened, his eyes were brimmed red and glassy. It was a face of hurt and loss. At that moment, I thought I broke him.  But there was no turning back after that. I feared that if I stared at his face too long, I might have changed my mind.  Seeing him in that state would easily break me down too, but I couldn’t let it.  

Just don’t speak.

“I loved you.” He said it so soft and so gentle, it was like warmth caressing me.  

Don’t fall for it.

“Goodbye Steve.” I gulped down any other words that might have made their way out, and with that, I closed the door.  

There was a pounding on the door that shook me from my memories. I jumped and gripped onto the porcelain tub.  “Are you almost done in there?” someone’s voice called out.  My cheeks were wet.  Were those tears?  My pride was stronger than any other force known to mankind, so I knew I had to hide those tears.  I wiped my face quickly and then leaned forward to flush the toilet, pretending that I had actually gone in there for some reason.  Hadn’t I?  I couldn’t remember.  I pinched my cheeks, making them rouge and puff a little.  A deep cleansing breath, and I could act my way out of it.  Upon opening the door and seeing the stranger standing there, I placed a hand on my stomach and hunched over a bit.

“Don’t drink too much of the punch.” I told a little tale of lies all in that single sentence.  The man looked at me only briefly before walking into the bathroom and closing the door.  After that, I stood up straight, pulled back my shoulders and made my way back downstairs.  This night had run its course, time to find my drunken friend and get the hell out of there. I saw everything I needed to see.

“Hey!” my inebriated friend was already standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. “You’ve been gone forever, where did you go?” she raised her voice over the noise.

“Let’s go.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her out the front door with me, not even bothering to look around or ask if she felt like going.  She didn’t put up a fight, she didn’t even resist, she just followed.  Thank God. 

I guess it was true.  He really did change.

Second part here.

[13-year-old-assassin]

Holding My Soul Out The Window

“It’s either her or the gun. You’re choice.”

Five continued to grip the gun in his now trembling hands, expression absolutely fuming. How dare Luther? How dare her? He has no idea what Five has been through, what it does to you being alone for that long. Delores was the only thing, the only person there. She was there when he hadn’t eaten for two days and passed out of exhaustion, waking up to bug bites all over his body because the parasites thought he was dead. She had been there when he had eaten that bad twinkie and puked for hours. She had been there, always, when literally no one else was.

And now she was being held in a threatening, not gentle grip by his brother outside of the window. Five’s hands shook on his grip of the gun. It became unsteady in his trembling fingers, matching his unsteady emotions.

But- the apocalypse. That was the only thought that made him not immediately drop the gun. He needed the weapon, he needed to stop the destruction of the world at all costs. It was what he had been working towards for all this time. It had become his obsession, his purpose, his goddamn life.

His thoughts were in turmoil, something that he despised experiencing. But then, then he did it. The sick bastard actually did it.

Luther fucking dropped Delores.

Five, forgetting his entire thought process altogether, dropped the gun immediately. His hands glowed blue, the normal tugging sensation and pinch of nausea settling in his stomach as he jumped towards the window.

But in his panic, in his awful panic, he was only able to jump halfway towards the window. He stumbled for a moment as he landed unsteadily, his moment of mistake settling in his mind, confirming what was going to happen.

His eyes widened and he rushed to the window anyway. It was as if everything turned to slow motion. The wind from outside rushed past his hair as he stuck his head out. Every car was incredibly loud in his ears, inevitably thumping in his brain. And Delores, his Delores, falling towards the hard pavement, was staring up at him. Her beautiful skin was shining in the sun, blocked by a small shadow as Five reached out his hands to grab her, his fingers just brushing the top of her head.

Five screamed, legitimately screamed as Delores fell. As she fell to- to her death. To her painful, gut-wrenching death. Five’s widened eyes stayed trained on his wife, on his absolutely beautiful wife as she got closer to the ground.

And then she hit the walkway, her pale skin shattering into a million pieces on the pavement. And this sound, this awful sound clawed from Five’s throat, choking every ounce of happiness he had felt, every good memory be had experienced in the past 45 years and disintegrating it. The fire rose up to his eyes, blurring his vision and making it go red.

Five heard a faint “oh shit” from behind him as he slowly and menacingly turned to Luther. His fists were clenched, although no blue was coming from them, only an invisible fire. His chest heaved with every erratic breath pumping from his lungs, only growing more frantic as more and more fury pounded into his heart.

Luther noticeably flinched back, taking a small step toward the door and he laid eyes upon the absolute pure fire raging in Five’s eyes.

“Look, Five, I swear that I didn't think she would actually fall-” he was cut off when Five jumped, the feeling of a hand clenching around his throat, cutting off his breath. Five miraculously was pushing him against the wall, holding the stronger man’s body against the dry barrier.

“What the fuck did you think would happen when you dropped her?” Five asked with no real question in his voice. Luther stammered, not knowing how to answer. Five let out a frustrated growl and pushed Luther stronger against the wall. “ANSWER ME!” Five demanded, begging for an excuse, any excuse at this point to explain this horror.

Luther began to run out of breath, his dirty fingernails clawing at the small hands enclosed around his throat. “F-Five, I d-didn’t mean to hurt Delores-”

“Don’t you dare say her name! You had no right!” Five fumed, his face still furious, but the words coming out shaky and drowned in pain. “You- you monster! You had absolutely-” the words were paused when he weakly punched Luther in the chest, “no-” another punch, “right!” He finished with one last punch that instead hit the wall beside Luther, creating a hole through it and bloodying Five’s fist.

“What is going on here?” Allison’s voice shouted as the door was blown open, the rest of the siblings following behind her fast pace.

“We heard a noise, and-” Klaus paused when his eyes landed on the scene before him. “Oh.”

“He killed her!” Five said, his voice cracking on the last word, the new people in the room only being gasoline pouring onto the flames decorating his eyes, turning it to a bonfire.

“What?” Vanya asked, worried and confused. After she got no answer, she asked again, “Five, who did he kill?” From the look of Luther’s state, a sudden urgency surged through her voice.

“Her!” Five shouted helplessly, tears now streaming down his face, struggling to get the word out, begging for them to understand. “He killed Delores!” All the other Hargreeves immediately understood. Well, understood Five’s reaction, but not necessarily the situation or what had happened moments before they had stormed in.

“Five put him down,” Diego said gently with a sigh, walking over to the infuriated boy. He didn’t move, his teeth still clenched. She wasn’t extremely worried about Luther, knowing he was too strong for the choke hold to really do much damage. Maybe frazzle the incompetent bastard, but it wouldn’t hurt him.

“Five.” Vanya stepped forward and said the words in a more serious, yet calm tone, no malice at all. She gently pulled his arms away from Luther. He finally let go with one last push of Luther into the wall, and immediately collapsed into Vanya’s arms, dignity be damned.

“Oh Five, it’s- it’s going to be okay,” she said grasping onto the sobbing boy, her face morphing into one of sadness. She was, of course, surprised, because this was Five. No emotions, no feelings, and definitely no crying Five. Regardless, she held onto him like he was the only thing keeping her alive just because it was Five. She ignored the previous statements from her brother about being a grown man, and she simply allowed herself to see him as a thirteen-year-old boy again.

“She was all I had Vanya, she was all! She- we- we were going- she was always-” he cut his own words off with a choked sob, melting into his sister’s arms. His legs buckled and he fell the floor on his knees, Vanya keeping up her comforting iron grip and falling with him. She looked up to Allison, a rare fierceness and responsibility covering her face.

‘Go,’ she mouthed to Luther, who was standing there in the corner, breathing normally at that point, the chokehold not doing any serious damage obviously. He made a gruff sound, beginning to form words of protest, before Allison grabbed his arm and, like a boss, literally shoved him out into the hallway of the room. His large bulk form stumbled out, and Allison gave one last smile to her sister and a concerned glance to her brother before she closed the door to shout at Luther.

“Sh, sh, it’s okay Five,” Vanya soothed, stroking his hair lovingly. Five’s sobs eventually turned into quiet sniffles, his face still buried into her now drenched shoulder. After a few moments he reluctantly parted his face from her, and with the wave of emotions over, he realized the scene he had just caused.

“Shit, m’ sorry,” he mumbled sluggishly. Diego and Klaus ended up trotting over, both squatting down beside their brother.

“It’s okay short stack, absolutely nothing to be sorry for! This was in no way your fault,” he said softly, the sheen of concern and love returning as he stared at his brother. But Five only noticed the pity, and so he kept his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the shame.

“Can- can I touch you?” Diego asked cautiously, and with the affirmation of Five’s head nod, he grasped on to the boy’s shoulder and heaved him off the floor. Five stumbled, being caught by Diego however, and was soon led to his bed. He collapsed, goddamn collapsed

into the sheets, head hitting the pillow. His exhaustion soon took over.

“But, the apocalypse-” Five mumbled, trying to fight the extremely persuasive lull of sleep.

“Sh, it’s okay Five. We’ll try to make some progress while you’re asleep. You’ll be able to work much better on a freshly rested mind anyway.” The words slipped from Vanya’s mouth in a motherly tone that she didn't really use with anyone, except for Five apparently. It was amazing to her, the side that he brought out of her.

Five shifted under the blankets, mumbling out a very, very soft ‘thank you’ before completely passing out.

Klaus brushed the bangs from his face, Vanya kissed his forehead (thank god he was unconscious or there would have been hell to pay,) and Diego turned out the lights as they walked out of the room quietly.

“Any time,” Vanya said before closing the door.

And here, kids, is a great example of how I can’t end a story to save my fucking life

[studpuffin]

The World as We Know It: Chapter 3

Read on AO3

“What the fuck was that?” Richie whipped away from Eddie and peered over the edge of the loft.

“Nothing good…” Eddie whispered, huddling closer to Richie. From outside, they heard shouting, someone pounding on the wall, throwing themselves against the outside of the shed, “Other survivors?”

“Or someone coming to kill us and take all our stuff…” Richie bit his lip as he slowly climbed down the stairs, gesturing for Eddie to follow.

“But..why would they want to kill us?” Eddie frowned, “Isn’t it smarter to stick together? Strength in numbers?”

“Or just more people to slow you down,” Mike whispered darkly from the corner, “Tragedy makes people do some crazy sick things.” he wrapped an arm tighter around Stan, who was curled between him and Bill.

Bill nodded, stroking his thumb over Stan’s arm gently, “S-should we go and w-who’s-”

“No,” Bev cut him off quickly, “We’re not doing anything until we know it’s safe. I’m not risking losing any of you.”

The voices got louder. And suddenly a familiar one broke through to the seven teens huddled in the dark.

“Vic come on! Put your fucking back into it.”

“Bowers,” Eddie gasped, squeaking softly as Richie covered his mouth. His eyes darted upwards and what he saw chilled him deeply. Richie’s eyes were dark, his mouth set, jaw clenched. Eddie has rarely seen Richie mad, never really mad at him, but this is a million times more intense than the few times he has.

Richie looks ready to kill.

The thought of Richie killing anyone makes Eddie shudder.

He killed your mom

Shut up that was different

Was it? Mike did say tragedy makes people do some sick things

Eddie whimpered softly behind Richie’s hand as the wood made an ominous cracking noise. Richie slowly let go of Eddie and leaned over to grab his bat.

“Mike,” he hissed softly.

“What?”

“Do you have the keys?”

“Of course I have the fucking keys, Richie.”

Richie nodded again, “Give them to Bev.”

“What?!”

“Give them to Bev.” he whispered urgently, as someone shouted triumphantly outside, “Mike now give them to Bev. Trust me.” he pleaded. Mike looks at him warily and then hands the keys to Bev, who grips them like a lifeline.

“Go start the car,” Richie doesn’t bother to whisper anymore. A hole is already starting to form in the wall and Bowers and his gang will be on them in second, “Bev go!” He shouted, fixing her with a look that leaves no room for argument.

Bill may be their unofficial leader, but Richie is their hero.

She grabbed Ben’s hand and they take off for the back door. She pauses, looking back over her shoulder at them.

“I love you guys,” she whispered.

Richie gave her a small smile, “Love you too Red,” he gave her a wink and for a moment it could have been like any other sleepover. For a moment everything seemed to freeze and they were able to pretend they were still living their old safe lives.

The door crashed open and suddenly everything is happening at once. Mike pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and moves to stand next to Richie, who's already shouldered his bat.

“Well well...Look what we got here boys. Bucky Beaver, Nigger, Stutters, Kyke, and the Fairy Boy,” Henry smirked cruelly at them, “Where’s the Slut and Fatass? Or did the walkers already get ‘em?”

“S-shut the f-f-fuck up Bowers,” Bill was standing next to Richie on the other side, shotgun in his hand.  

“W-what are you gonna do about it Stutters?”

Eddie isn’t sure who moved first.

Suddenly Bill and Henry are wrestling on the ground, Bill screaming at the top of his lungs. Henry is practically cackling at him. Bill landed a couple of good punches. Henry spat blood into his face and looked over at Patrick.

That look sends the rest of them running. Richie and Patrick charged at each other, Patrick swinging a chain, and Richie raising his baseball bat over his head. Eddie looked away, flinching at the crunch of metal on wood. Mike has Belch flat on the floor, the gun spinning across the floor into the corner of the room. Stan is nowhere to be seen.

Hopefully, in the car, Eddie prays as the gun slides past him. He sees his opportunity to end this and lunges for it. His fingertips graze the cool metal before someone is grabbing him by the back of the shirt and pulling him up. An arm wraps around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides, and suddenly he feels the cold tip of a knife pressed against his throat.

“Alright! That’s enough!” Henry barked. Eddie willed himself not to tremble as he looks at the horrible scene before him. Bill was still conscious but barely. His nose was gushing blood, his left eye was swollen almost shut, and his breath was coming in short, painful sounding gasps. Eddie can’t help but notice him clutching his side.

Punctured lungs, bruised organs, broken nose. It only takes seven pounds of pressure to send someone’s nasal bridge bone into their brain Eddie’s brain helpfully supplied as his heart rate jumped exponentially.

Mike was at his side in an instant, pulling his head into his lap and soothingly running his hands through his hair.

“Let him go, Bowers,” Richie croaked. Eddie’s heart jumped again upon seeing the state of his boyfriend. Richie had a cut on his chest, blood seeping through his white t-shirt. There was a massive bruise on his cheek and his nose was bleeding. But he’s standing. He’s talking.

He’s also holding a gun.  

Richie is able to kill. You know he is

Shut UP

Henry tightened his hold on Eddie, who bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from crying out as the blade cuts into his skin, “Or what faggot? You gonna shoot me? Miss and you kill your little faggy boyfriend. Because if you miss, you either shoot him or I slit his fucking throat.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want just let him go,” Richie sounded tired, but he’s still standing tall as ever. A full inch taller than Henry.

“Whatever I want huh?” Henry sounded practically evil and it makes Eddie’s skin crawl.

Richie nods and Eddie wants to sob.

“Supplies. All of them,” Henry paused, “And Red…” he had this awful predatory tone in his voice that made Eddie want to puke, “Don’t know when we’ll get another chance to get another girl out here if you catch my drift.”

Eddie watched in horror as Richie put down the bat, “Richie no! No!” he struggled and Henry pressed the knife harder into his neck. This time Eddie failed in holding back the gasp of pain.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Richie don’t!” Eddie pleaded again as Richie turned toward the back door where the van is parked.

Richie gave him a long look. A look that says trust me.

And Eddie does. God help him Eddie does. Even when Henry drops Eddie to the floor, leaving him a crumpled heap. Even when Richie’s voice floats over his head saying, “this way.”

Eddie lay there silently. Richie is his best friend. Richie is the love of his life. He knows Richie wouldn’t do something like this. Not to Bev. Not after everything she’s been through. Richie wouldn’t do something like this without a plan. So he lay there silently, trusting Richie, face buried in the dirt, breathing in the smell of hay and wet ground.

Bill was still wheezing and Eddie can tell it’s getting worse. He hears Mike’s hushed whispers and the rustle of the ground as Bill reaches up to grasp at Mike’s hands, and the dull cry of pain as the movement pulls on his ribs.

Eddie wanted to cry again. But no tears come. He must be all cried out. At that moment he truly hated himself. He felt so fucking useless. But he was too fucking tired to even think about moving, let alone be of any help.

So he listens.

At first, he heard nothing. Not even a whisper from Bill and Mike. Then he heard voices. Muffled yelling. A high pitched voice screaming (he prays it isn’t Bev), the sounds of a fight and finally a loud bang.

The bang seems to reverberate through Eddie’s bones. His ears ring. He felt dizzy. He felt sick to his stomach.

Oh, wait that’s the blood loss. Fuck He thought tiredly, touching the warm wet spot on his neck. He curled in on himself and wills himself not to fall asleep.

Someone shook him and pulled him to sit up. A familiar scent wrapped around him and he clung to the body holding him.

Richie…

“Eddie,” Richie took his face and stroked his thumb over his cheek, “Hey Eddie baby look at me,” his voice sounded weak and croaky, “Open your eyes Eds. Baby please…”

Eddie blinked and looked up into Richie’s face, and let out an audible sigh of relief. There was the Richie he recognized, brown eyes wide in concern. Eddie let out a sob and threw his arms around Richie’s neck.

“You scared the shit out of me you asshole. Don’t do shit like that ever again.” he sniffled as Richie pressed a kiss to his into his hair.

Richie opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, Bill makes a horrible choking noise. Eddie sits up, suddenly alert. He scrambles out of Richie’s lap, collapsing at Bill’s side.

“Get Stan. Get Stan!” He looked at Richie, panic filling his voice, “Richie now!”

As Richie ran towards the car again, Eddie flew into doctor mode.

“Mike sit him up,” he urged gently, pressing a cloth to Bill’s nose in an attempt to stem the bleeding. Bill was pale. His breathing was shallow. Eddie’s chest tightens. Bill has been his best friend since birth. Even since before he had Richie, he had Bill.

He pressed his hand gently to Bill’s side, wincing at Bill’s shallow gasp, “Do you feel that?

Bill gave a weak nod, “E-Eddie…”

Eddie nodded, squeezing his hand, “Hey buddy.”

Bill gave his hand a weak squeeze, “Eddie...you…”

Eddie stroked his cheek softly, “Bill you don’t need to say anything. Just rest ok?”

Suddenly Stan was at his side, “Bill...baby,” He looked between Mike and Bill and then back at Eddie, “Eddie do something!”

“I’m trying!” he shot back, carefully wrapping the torn hay bag around Bill’s ribs, “Mike check his pulse.”

Mike pressed his fingers gently to Bill’s throat, “Fading fast,” he whispered.

“Eddie!”

“Stan I’m not a fucking surgeon!” Eddie and Stan finally make eye contact, and Stan looks ready to cry.

“So he’s gonna die…” It wasn’t a question. Stan curled closer to Bill and Mike, “I should have been here. I should have done...something…” his voice cracked, and he buried his face in Mike’s neck, “Can you give us a minute please?”

Eddie gave him a sad smile and pulls away from Bill, quietly taking Richie’s hand, and leading him towards the door. He refuses to look back. He can’t. He won’t.  Not even when he hears Stan break. The noise that Stan makes sounds inhuman. It's heartwrenching. Eddie clings tighter to Richie’s hand and wills himself not to cry again.

They crawled into the van, curling together once again in the back seat. A little over 10 minutes later, Mike and Stan exited the barn. Mike was crying. Not loudly or openly, just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Stan wasn’t crying, but his eyes are red like he just has been.

“We should bury him…” Eddie whispered.

“We can’t,” Bev shook her head, “Can’t risk him coming back. And we can’t risk anyone knowing we were here and try to follow us,” her eyes were misty and she was trembling slightly, “We need to cover our tracks.”

Mike nodded, “We need to burn it.”

No one stepped forward. And then Eddie’s voice filtered through the group.

“I’ll do it,” he held out a hand and Richie slipped his lighter into it. Eddie stooped to pick up a stick, deftly lighting it. He tossed the branch into the open doorway watching at the wood caught fire.

He closed his eyes for a moment taking a moment to center himself. He felt the heat of the fire, heard the quiet breathing of his friends. He takes a moment to say goodbye to Bill, the closest thing he had to a brother. He opened his eyes and turned back to the group. There were tears in everyone’s eyes, Stan hiding his faces in Mike’s neck again. He looked down at the blood on his hands. Bill’s blood on his hands.

Eddie swayed dangerously, reaching out for Richie who instantly pulls him into his arms. He lets out a shaky breath, squeezes his hand again, crawls into the van.

There’s no point dwelling on the past when there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Tag List: @tinyarmedtrex @dyslexictozier @sunflowertozier @richietoaster @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @totaltozier @richardxtozier @reddie-for-anything @aizeninlefox @reddiepop @oldguybones

[not-just-any-fangirl]

I walked into a pillar at work today and gave myself a mild concussion. A colleague had to take care of me cause I was really dazed. Now that I feel better I'm sure this can become a good prompt for a fluffy Nalu oneshot! xD

Mid-Day Concussions

Word Count; 1849

I know you prob didn’t mean this, but all I can think of is in my deaf!Natsu au bcus I love it! Also, adorable scenario, I hope you’re alright, and I’m SO SORRY this is so late

Lucy couldn’t tell if she wanted to laugh or to cry.

On the one hand, Natsu was currently laying in her small dorm room, in her bed, half unconscious and Lucy had no clue how to help him. On the other hand, he was in this state because he had walked into a pole. An honest to god, cartoon-like scenario, pole. 

Lucy made calming noises when Natsu shifted, scowling to herself when she remembered how stupid that reflex was in her current situation seeing how he was deaf, and nothing Lucy could do could be helpful. He made a noise, low and distressed, and Lucy wanted to scream. She tapped his shoulder, urging him to look at her. After several tries he finally did, emerald gaze unfocused and a large and angry looking knot forming dead center on his forehead. 

“Are you okay?” Lucy signed, speaking out loud as well. Natsu blinked once, nodding as he curled onto his other side so he was closer to Lucy. She smiled as she ran a hand through his hair, Natsu pushing slightly into the touches. They had only been friends for a few months, dating for a week and a half, but Lucy knew how physical he was. Cuddles, casual hand-holding, and resting his chin on top of her head were all daily expectations at this point, and Lucy loved it.

“M’fine,” Natsu mumbled. And Lucy was back to freaking out because she couldn’t tell if he was slurring from his injury or just not concentrating as he spoke.  

Lucy ran her hand along the side of his face, brushing his bangs from his face and tracing an eyebrow piercing with one finger. Natsu cracked his eye open, and Lucy smiled at him. “Spell your name for me,” she signed. Natsu frowned at her, and Lucy made a low sound of irritation while keeping her expression the same. She repeated the phrase, slower. Natsu cocked his head, more confused. He tried to sit up, paling quickly and sweat beading on his temples. Lucy rushed as she pushed him back into her bed, worrying her lip at his whine. 

Lucy looked around the room, petting the top of Natsu’s head in what she hoped was comfort. Her curtain was drawn, stopping the afternoon sun from overstimulating Natsu’s maybe-concussed self, and all the books and notes that had been living on her bed for the past two weeks had migrated to her floor to make room for Natsu. If it weren’t for the pained look that twisted his features just enough for her to notice Lucy would have thought he looked adorable, curled in her twin bed and laying on top of her yellow polka dotted blanket, her stuffed dog that she had sewn a snowman nose onto when she was five being cuddled by Natsu as if it could chase away his pain. 

She was still in her work uniform, black t-shirt with her name tag on it and the university’s mascot on the back, hair pulled up in a messy ponytail because Lucy had woken up fifteen minutes before her shift. Natsu had greeted her with the sign for ‘pretty’, which made her blush more than any other guy that had called her gorgeous or beautiful or stunning. And then she had been distracted with her, y’know, job checking refunded books and buying back from the other two-dollars-above-broke students at Fairy Tail, and the next thing she knew Natsu had wandered off. Which usually didn’t bother her, except the store had finally stocked the textbook for the 500-student level 100 stats class. Lucy cringed as she thought of her coworkers dealing with the desperate throng of students. 

Then Natsu whimpered as he pressed into her hand, and Lucy couldn’t give a flying fuck about what was happening back at the campus bookstore. 

“Dummy,” Lucy mumbled to herself. She leaned forward, kissing his bump gently. Tomorrow, she’d laugh at him for walking into a god damn pillar, but right now all she wanted was to make sure he was okay. Lucy already wasn’t a fan of how Natsu acted like he was a burden, and she didn’t want to add a concussed and bedridden boyfriend to that mix of self-loathing that she had yet to unpack. 

She also really wanted to punch the guy that had shoved Natsu, but priorities. 

Natsu opened his eyes, and Lucy signed ‘name’ again, her fore and middle finger pressed tight against each other and swiping her right-hand fingers over her left-hand fingers twice. Natsu furrowed his brow at her hands, trying desperately to understand what in all hell she was saying. Lucy almost screamed because this wasn’t the first time this had happened before Natsu had finally gotten it, and she didn’t know whose fault it was. 

“Name?” Natsu asked out loud, looking at her questioningly. Lucy smiled, nodding quickly. Natsu barked out a laugh, throwing his head against the pillow behind him. Lucy scowled at him, unsure as to what was so funny but guessing that she was being laughed at. Natsu’s grin was weaker than usual, his normally golden brown skin a sickly grey under and red around his bump, but Lucy still got the impression of an amused cat in the twitch of his lips and glimmer under the haze in his eye. “Name.” Natsu signed, holding his hands like Lucy had, but instead of swiping he simply tapped them twice. 

Lucy groaned, covering her flushed face with her hands. She couldn’t believe it had been three months since she’d started taking ASL lessons after class on Fridays, and she had still messed up something as simple as ‘name’. She was limp as Natsu pulled her to bed, his pull weak, but still strong enough to tug her down and curl her against his chest. 

“Silly Lushi,”  Natsu hummed, kissing the top of her head. She pulled back, making sure Natsu could read her lips.

“I’m not the one who walked into a pole.”

Natsu pouted at her, nuzzling her cheek as he whined. “Mean Lushi. I’m concussed and yer mocking me.” Lucy snorted, gently running her hands from his neck to his chest and back up. As if she were the mean one here. A bottle of water sat freshly open on her bedside table, heating pads and cool packs both ready for use on the floor, a sick bucket in case his nausea turned into full-on gross puking like the concussion symptom list had said. And she was here cuddling him instead of at work! Mean, her ass.

“Mildly concussed, and maybe at that,” Lucy said, grinning at her bickering with Natsu. She was just thankful he was aware enough to read her lips, though she didn’t want to strain him and knew they should stop soon, just in case. “You’re usually so aware of the space around you, I don’t understand how you missed a foot and a half wide brick pole.”

Natsu’s pout deepened, cracking into a scowl when Lucy giggled at his expression. She kissed his lip ring, pulling back expectantly. 

“Was distracted,” Natsu grumbled, falling into silence as Lucy waited for him to continue. The muffled sounds of TV came through the thin walls of her dorm, and she couldn’t help but be thankful that sound wasn’t a factor that Lucy had to worry about keeping to a minimum for Natsu’s headaches. Cana may be a good friend, but considerate she tended to slip on, just for the simple fact of her forgetting to do so. 

“By what,” Lucy finally pressed. Lucy ran her thumb over his lip, pulling herself closer to him so all that separated them was Plue; her snowman slash dog stuffy. 

“You.” he said. His scowl softened,  expression turning serious and so unfathomably sincere that Lucy was winded. “I saw a bunny I thought you’d love, and wanted to give it to ya ‘cus ya looked so stressed. But then the guy shoved me ’cus I guess he thought I was ignoring him and I turned around to tell the jackass I was deaf and watch him be socially ruined by a crowd of people judging him for yelling at the deaf guy and there was a pillar and now my head hurts.”

Lucy kissed him, soft and sweet and careful so as to not hurt him but knowing no other thing to say what she felt. Adoration swelled in her chest for her dumb, goofy, pierced and pink haired puppy of a boyfriend. She didn’t know if she was in love with him yet, but damn if Lucy didn’t love this boy. Natsu returned the kiss, smiling with pleasant surprise as his lips pushed firmer against hers. He opened his mouth, tongue brushing against the seam of her lips hopefully, and Lucy pulled back. Natsu blinked at her before whining, trying to pull her back to him for a kiss. Lucy pressed her finger to his lips, biting her lip as she grinned and shook her head no. 

“Rest,” she signed. Natsu whined loudly, knowing his volume when Lucy rolled her eyes and increasing it. Lucy giggled in exasperation, gently tapping his temple to remind him of his injury. Now was not the time for lazy makeouts, and Lucy was unafraid to enforce that rule. 

“Fine,” Natsu conceded unhappily, returning to signing. “But check my jacket.” 

Lucy tilted her head in confusion but sat up and did as he requested anyway. She then gasped, pulling a yellow bunny stuffed animal the size of her hand out from his leather jacket, the name ‘Lucy’ stitched into it’s ear in white. 

She swatted at his arm, whirling on him from where she perched at the edge of her bed. “You stole the rabbit!?”

“Technically, you stole it ‘cus I forgot I had it in my pocket when ya led me out of the store. You should really put some tag detectors in there. Nothing even happened, at least I think it didn’t. The walk’s kinda fuzzy right now.” Natsu explained simply, as if hadn’t just stolen from her place of employment. Lucy huffed at his blase attitude toward grand-theft-bunny. She gave him a judgemental look as he led her back to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered to herself. Then Natsu nuzzled into the top of her head, breathing in deeply and relaxing as he took in her scent. Which Lucy would find weird, if his own mix of cologne and natural musk wasn’t lulling her into an afternoon nap as well. She couldn’t help it, burrowing deeper into his chest, each holding a stuffed animal with one arm. Lucy smiled. She could always pay for it later, granted that Natsu didn’t do something like die on her in his sleep. 

Lucy laughed to herself, legs tangling easily with Natsu’s. It would take more than ramming headfirst into a brick wall to take out her boyfriend. She didn’t think she knew anyone that was as strong as her Natsu. 

Definitely none that were as adorable or unknowingly sweet as him. 

[jadehqknb]

Hello my dear! I was wondering if I could request a Yakuza! Kasamatsu where he originally kidnaps reader because her family owes a lot of money. But even when they manage to pay it off, he keeps her because he ends up falling in love with her? However, he lets reader decide if she wants to stay with him or leave?

A/N: Everyone is agedup, therefore, Kasamatsu is not his normal, blushing, can’t talk to women self.That’s all fun and good but I wanted something a bit different with this oneand I hope you all enjoy it. Also, the essence of your ask is here just changedup a little. I hope you love it!

Kasamatsu sighs, rubbingthe sides of his head. This is the part of his job he hates. No, scratch that,he hates his whole existence in this fucked up world he’s been forced topartake in but there’s nothing for it; he has nowhere else to go and he’s intoo deep to ever get out.

Imayoshi smiles, thatinsincere, nefarious smile of his as their latest captive, or as he likes tocall them collateral, is ushered kicking and screaming into one of the “guestrooms”.

“Quite the feisty one,eh?” he asks looking at Kise.

The blonde snorts buthis eyes haven’t lost their gleam. If anything, they’re brighter. “Well if itwere easy all the time that would spoil some of the fun, now wouldn’t it?”

Kasamatsu shakes hishead, still perplexed how this can be the same guy they recruited a year ago.

They didn’t even have towork that hard to persuade him, in fact he came along a little too willinglyfor Kasamatsu’s taste. He remembers thinking Kise was a happy go lucky type ofguy, all sing song voice and flirty eyes, which now given his job as a lureworks well in their favor. But time has worn away that persona, at least behindclosed doors, and Kise’s revealed himself to be quite the deviant and sadisticbastard. He thinks little of almost everyone, barely respecting his higher upsand that’s mostly due to risk of punishment.

You think you know aguy.

Banging is heard uponthe locked door, the woman’s voice shrill and penetrating. “Kindly get her tostuff a sock in it, Kasamatsu,” Imayoshi orders.

The brunette gruntssomething akin to “yes sir” before striding to the door. He yanks it opensharply, a startled cry and wide eyes greeting him. He feels his heart almoststop; she’s gorgeous. Not just that but there’s fire, passion, drive in hereyes. She refuses to be a victim so matter how much she is one now.

“What the hell is this?I demand that you release me! Do you know who my father is?” she yells gettingright in his face. Yep, she’s a brave one. He pushes her back hard enough toland on the bed before slamming the door and crossing his arms.

“One, keep your mouthshut or else I’ll make your stay infinitely less comfortable with a rope andgag,” he says, voice calm and even. He watches her swallow her retort. “Two,we’re very aware of who your father is. Are youaware of the debt he owes Imayoshi? Of the bad investments and the lying andthe book cooking?”

Her eyes get wider andwider with every word he utters, tears clinging to long lashes. “I guess that’sa no,” he remarks leaning against the door. Closing his eyes, Kasamatsu inhalesa deep breath through his nose then opens his eyes once more to meet her gaze.“The grace period ended and when Imayoshi sent his collector, your fathercouldn’t pay. So, you’re here as collateral.” He brushes imaginary dust fromhis suit just to avoid her eyes. “Which means, as long as you follow orders,you can roam freely in the manor. Well, mostly free, since I’ll be accompanyingyou to make sure you don’t run off or get yourself killed somehow.”

He opens the door,turning to look over his shoulder. “For now, I suggest you take a shower andchange into something more comfortable. I’ll see to it that you get somethingto eat.” Then he’s gone, locking the door from behind which he hears renewedsobbing.

He sighs again. Hereally hates this.

Days later and he’sready to punch a wall. He thought his new charge would have some sense ofself-preservation but no, she challenges anyone and everyone she encounters, butmostly him.

“What the fuck is wrongwith you?” he hisses. “Are you trying to get yourself maimed? Or killed?” He’sgot her by the wrist having just caught her trying to escape for the thirdtime.

“You can’t hurt me,” shereasons, “If I’m collateral then part of the agreement must be my safe return, unharmed.”

“For someone who’sfamily is so deep in the business you sure are stupid about it. For one, your theoryis completely wrong. The only reason you’re still in such good condition isbecause I’m in charge of you. But what exactly do you think will happen if youdo manage to escape huh?” Kasamatsu snaps, his voice rising as he pushes up heragainst the wall, hands tightly squeezing her shoulders.

Her eyes are blown wideat his proximity and the intensity of his gaze. “You think this is a fuckinggame? That if you escape you win? Debt dropped because you were clever?”

He huffs, shaking hishead and looking down momentarily before meeting her eyes again. “If youescape, what do you think the next step is in paying the debt? I’ll tell you. Imayoshiwill merely up the cost. Instead of a live hostage, he’ll cut his loss and your father’s life short.”

She inhales sharply,tears leaking down her face. “And he’ll send me to do it as punishment for letting you get away,” he continues,tone bitter.

“That…that’s…” shestutters.

He glares deeper at her.“I hate killing, always have always will. I don’t want this life but I’m stuckto it like a curse. And,” he looks to the door, lowering his voice and hopinghis initial outburst wasn’t overhead before looking back at her, “if you keepdisobeying me, Imayoshi will remove you from my charge to someone more…adept atbreaking people.”

“How true that is, mydear,” Imayoshi says from the doorway making both Kasamatsu and her jump. Hestrides forward, pushing aside his subordinate to roughly clasp her by thechin. Face inches from hers, he speaks in a low menacing tone, and though helooks at her, his words are for Kasamatsu.  

“If I hear that thislittle bird has spread her wings a bit too far one more time, I’ll let Hanamiyaclip them. Understood?” He meets his eyes back to Kasamatsu.

“Yes sir,” comes thequick reply.

Imayoshi releases herchin, giving her a slight smack on the cheek. “Count your lucky stars thatyou’re in Kasa’s care, little bird. He’s one of our more…tenderheartedmembers.”

Standing to his fullheight, Imayoshi straightens his tie and jacket, sending one last look toKasamatsu before turning on his heel and exiting the library. Exhaling a longbreath, the remaining male takes her by the elbow guiding her out into the hall.

“Who…who’s Hanamiya?”she asks numbly.

Kasamatsu tightens hisgrip on her arm. “Trust me, you’re far better off not knowing. By the time hislast collateral’s family paid off their debt the damage was already done.”

“What do you mean?”

He meets his eyes tohers. “She ended up in a mental institution.”  

Since the day in thelibrary, things have been relatively easier with her, at least in terms of hersticking around. She’s still snarky and full of sass but mostly just to annoyhim. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was flirting.

But that may just bewishful thinking.

Because resistance isfutile against this woman and he can feel himself succumbing to her charms.Especially when she smiles. It’s uncanny how much a simple tilt of her lips inan upward trajectory can lift his spirits, though he’s careful not to show any indicationof such a thing.

Or at least he thoughthe was until Kise remarks, “If you keep making puppy eyes at her I’m goingto puke.”

Kasamatsu sends him aglare but doesn’t respond, knowing it will only make him worse. The blondesnickers, parting with, “Don’t go falling in love with her. Either way,she won’t be staying forever.”

As he walks away,Kasamatsu clenches his fist, striking the wall in his irritation; Kise’s right.This whole arrangement won’t be indefinite. Imayoshi may be a patient man buthe also has a reputation to maintain.

And everybody pays inone way or another.

It’s like self-fulfillingprophecy. Time has gone by rapidly and Kasamatsu can see the changes in her.She’s more relaxed around him, willing to smile more, even laugh out loudsometimes, usually over a book she’s reading or movie she’s watching. And hecan feel the changes in himself. The unnecessary touches to her body, a guidinghand on her back as they walk through the manor, a hand out to assist her fromher chair. The way he thinks about her constantly, even when he’s in his roomand she in hers.

He knows it’s stupid,stupid and dangerous but they don’t call it falling for nothing and he’sfalling hard and fast.

The manor is quiet, mostof the other members either off for the night having a drink or a screw (ormost likely both) or on jobs of their own. The past month has been building tothis crossroad and Kasamatsu stands rock solid like he’s wearing concrete shoes,his eyes fixed on her face as she inches closer to him.

Her hand settles on hisneck, sending shockwaves through his nerves but he remains still. Slowly she leansforward, breath teasing the sensitive flesh of his lips. “This is just…stressrelease, you understand?”

“Are you trying toconvince me or yourself?” he asks bluntly.

“Screw you,”she breathes closing the distance kissing him harshly.

Kasamatsu can’t stop hishands from moving, one wrapping in her hair while the other locks onto her hip.“If you say so,” he counters huskily.

He pushes her into themattress, mouth and tongue caressing every inch of flesh exposed. She archesand moans, holding onto him so tight he wonders if he’ll bruise. And when shecrests her peak, moaning loudly, “Yukio,” he knows he’s a lost man.

When it’s over, heleaves at her behest, her reasoning that if they keep it to just fucking it’llbe less complicated. “Whatever,” he mumbles pulling up his pants andtossing on his shirt, not bothering to button up the latter.

It happens again threedays later in the storeroom after dinner and then two nights after that in thepool house after dusk.

They both keep sayingtheir trysts can’t continue, he because of attachment issues, she because themore she feels for him the more she feels a traitor to her family. But theycan’t stop, it’s like an addiction, it goes beyond want to need and keepsgetting deeper no matter how many times in so many words they tell themselvesthey don’t care.

The veil of mutual liesfalls even lower tonight when Kasamatsu rises to leave and feels her hand wraparound his wrist.

“Stay,” shesays, the word quiet in the dark, a plea as much as it is an order. AndKasamatsu realizes as he lays back down, drawing her into his embrace, that theroles of warden and captor have switched or at the very least become mutual.

Because he’s irrevocablyin love with her.

The day comes, the dayhe’s dreaded since he first laid eyes on her. If he’s honest, he probably fellfor her then, hair flying wild, eyes full of fear but determination. She waslike no one he’d ever met before and he wants nothing more than to keep her byhis side. But it’s not his choice, nothing in this god forsaken world he livesin is his choice. It’s orders, orders, orders.

And his orders are totake her home.

Through some miracle(more likely an extreme generous or unfortunate “benefactor”) her father’s debtis cleared. She’s no longer a captive of the Yakuza, but she’s definitelyKasamatu’s.

“I don’t want to goback, Yukio, I want to stay here. With you,” she confesses as he gathers herbag filled with items acquired during her time with him.

His head falls back on asigh, arms going slack before he looks at her. “You know that’s not possible.And even if it were, I wouldn’t let you.”

She crosses her arms,finger nails digging into her small biceps, teeth mangling her bottom lip. Heknows she hates showing weakness but she can’t help wearing her emotions in theopen, her heart on her sleeve. “Why?” she whispers, eyes closing in effort totrap her tears.

He flops her bag on thebed to draw her into his arms, inhaling deeply to take in the scent of her. He drawsback, hand caressing her cheek as he stares in her eyes. They’re so pure still,so full of hope and life and good thatit pains him. Everything he’s ever wanted is right here in his arms but heabsolutely will not keep it, will not keep her. Because she’s too good for hisworld.

A dark chuckle almostescapes his lips as memory takes hold of a boy from long ago, one wearing ahigh school basketball jersey and knee-high socks, who for the life of himcouldn’t even speak coherently to agirl let alone do the things and say the words he’s done and said with her.

He opens his mouth butthe moment is broken by a knock at the door. Separating from her, Kasamatsuopens the door revealing Sakurai, who bows low.

“I’m sorry, but the caris waiting,” he says voice shaking.

Kasamatsu nods oncedismissing him. Turning back around, he walks to the bed and picks up her bagbefore placing his hand upon her back, a familiar gesture he doesn’t evenbother hiding anymore. “Come on, it’s time to go,” he says quietly.

The drive to her home issilent, save for muffled sniffles coming from beside him. She insisted she rideup front, the last time she’d have to be by his side. As they reach her family home,Kasamatsu sees her face scrunching up in an attempt not to cry. She failsmiserably. It pierces his heart but he can’t, he won’t be selfish. It’s for her own good that she returns to herfamily, even if they are tied to the business. There’s still time for her to getout, to make a life of her own away from it. Which means, away from him.  

He stops the car andgets out, popping the trunk to gather her bag before reaching the passengerdoor. Opening it, he holds out his hand but she won’t take it, won’t even lookat him. “Hey, come on, they’re waiting for you,” he grunts.

She shakes her head.Groaning softly, Kasamatsu drops his burden to the ground and reaches in tuggingher out, easily moving her smaller frame with his larger one. When shecollapses in his arms he dies a little more inside. “Please,” he mumbles in herhair, “you have to go.” Her head moves back, eyes full of tears. Then suddenly,she puts distance between them just enough to rear back and smack him acrossthe face.

“I love you,” she chokesout. He stays silent. “And I know you love me too Yukio, you may never havesaid it but I could feel it! I could see, cansee it, right now, so why? Why are you doing this?” she shouts.

He grabs her shouldersroughly, pushing her back against the closed door of the car, bearing theweight of his soul in his eyes. “Because I love you too much to corrupt you!I’m nothing! I have nothing! You think I want to stay with the Yakuza, that Iwant to be Imayoshi’s errand bitch boy? I don’t have a fucking choice! He ownsme! Body, soul, mind, all of it, until I die which could be any moment of anyday!” He’s breathing hard, muscles tense and teeth grit. He grabs her chin,kissing her hard, hot and deep. He doesn’t care if anyone sees this, he’smaking a statement and wants the whole fucking world to hear it.

Pulling away, theirbreaths mingle as he says softly, “I will love you until the day I die, but Iwill not let you throw away your life for me. Go, do magnificent things, changethe world, just…live a little bit for me.”

He plants one last kissbefore turning away and heading to the driver’s door, the sound of its slam thefinality of his decision.

He means every word,he’ll die loving her, but he’ll sacrifice both of their happiness to keep her safe.

A month later, hisassertion that he could die at any time almost comes to fruition. He’s sent on a job with Aomine as lookout but their target got the jump on them and he endedup stabbed several times. For all his hard ass talk and “don’t give a fuck” attitude,Kasamatsu had never seen Aomine drive that fast before passing out. It’s amiracle that he survived.

A week has passed sincethe attack and when Kasamatsu opens his eyes for the first time it’s to find her in a hospital chair by his bed. Inhis shock, he tries to sit up resulting in a groan of pain pulling her fromtwilight slumber. Instantly she’s up, one hand grabbing his while the otherlays gently upon his cheek and he almost laughs at the irony that her lasttouch to him there was a bit more stinging. His body reacts to herautomatically, head nuzzling into her touch.

“What the hell are youdoing here?” he asks, tone weaker than he’d prefer.

She smiles softly,leaning down to kiss him and the feel of her, the scent of her, everythingabout her brings him back to life. When she pulls away, she whispers, “Hayakawatold me, or at least tried to tell me, what happened but all I needed tounderstand was you were hurt.” She places a hand over his mouth to coverprotests she’s tired of hearing. “Stop, Yukio, please. I know you think youknow what’s best, and to be honest, you’re probably right. But thanks to myfather and brothers, this world is a part of me now. And if I have to live inhell, I’d rather choose the demons I keep company with.”

He takes in a deepbreath, moving her hand and pulling her forward to kiss again, more deeply,more lovingly, than he’s ever allowed himself. Releasing her mouth reluctantly,he grunts, “And if I have to live in hell, I’d rather keep an angel by my side.”

And a week later when hereturns to the manor, that’s exactly where she is.

[allaboutshouto]

help me heal

Summary: Shouto has gone missing during a solo mission. Izuku upturned the whole town in search for him. He found Shouto. A broken, pale imitation of the Shouto he knew and loved. Izuku wanted to cry but he swallowed his tears. Because Shouto needed his help now more than his tears.

Tags: Torture, Angst, blind!Shouto, so much angst

Note: @tododeku-week​  Day 4 | loyalty | “I tried my hardest. I don’t know what else to do.”

Ao3

Izuku crashed down the rusty steel door with a One-for-All infused kick. It was an excessive move and emotion-filled decision on his part but he was beyond caring at this point.

Shouto was just right beyond this door.

The door came off its hinge and flew straight into the opposite wall of the ill-lit corridor with an ear-piercing clang. Dusty, flickering lamps hanging from the ceiling dangled creakily as the door flew past underneath.

Izuku wasted no time. He sprinted towards the last door on the right, a barely visible indent on the mouldy, moss-grown wall, leaving footprints embedded onto the damp cement floor. His heart hammered in his chest, his blood thumped in his ears, his breath came out in short, worried gasps.

He felt like crying.

He was crying.

It was too humid down in the holding cells for him to tell the tears apart from the sweat.

Please don't let him be too late.

Pleasepleasepleaseplease

He arrived at the door. The metallic tang of blood flooding his sense told him he wasn’t tricked. With one tenth of his strength, he broke the lock off the wall and swung the door inwards, mindful not to bang it against the wall.

The cell was the biggest out of all. The arched ceiling and single dangling lamp made it seem like a holy church.

Izuku felt sick inside. Any ounce of regret he had for breaking the kidnappers’ arms vanished at the sight of Shouto, so thin so small so pale so dead in the middle of the floor, right underneath the arched roof.

He sat there, on a rickety old chair, still as a doll, head bowed, chest barely lifting with each intake of breath. His dark blue hero suit was tattered beyond recognisable, botched with dried blood. The pant legs were ripped off to make strips of bandage for his eyes. His arm was connected to an IV drip filled with something that Izuku didn’t want to know about.

Izuku bit back a choked sob as he approached Shouto. He was so so thin, bony fingers rested lightly on the armrests. His hair, matted together, went past his ears in the three weeks he went missing.

Izuku lightly brushed a few locks away from his face so he could get a better look. His lips caked with dried blood, dark purple bruises stood out against pale skin on his collarbone.

Izuku drew his eyes upwards to Shouto's eyes.

Uncontrolled apologies bubbled past his lips as he realized what had happened to those beautiful eyes. What Shouto had to endure when Izuku was searching relentlessly nights and days for him.

There were red, blistering burns covering his forehead, running over his eyes and ending just above the tips of his nose.

'Shouto?' He called, his voice cracking with penned-up emotion.

Shouto breathed out raggedly through his nose.

'I'm taking you out of here, okay? Everything is alright. You will be alright. You are going to be f-f-fine.' Izuku choked on his words, swallowing back tears. Because Shouto needed him now, breaking down could wait for later.

Carefully, he removed the needle, mindful not to cause any more pain to the hurting boy. Then he looped an arm beneath Shouto's legs and lifted him up bridal style. He kept himself still as he moved up flights of stairs.

As the first ray of sunshine hit them, he felt Shouto shifted minutely in his hold, hiding his face into the fold of Izuku's hero suit. Tears wetted the bandages around his eyes but Izuku was too preoccupied with how far apart Shouto's breath was getting to pay it any attention.

'How is he?' Izuku asked immediately as Recovery Girl stepped out from the makeshift infirmary on the site.

'Weak.' She frowned, a hard line crossing her face. 'And in pain. He had been drugged to the gills with sedative aesthetic. I can't risk overdose so he might wake up as soon as his body flushes out the residual. He suffers from multiple broken bones, a severe concussion, lacerations of varying depth and length. His shoulder is the worst off, having a sharp object pierced through the other side before getting pulled out the wrong way and nearly severed his nerves.' She listed off Shouto's injuries like she did a shopping list, professional and unfeeling.

Izuku felt like puking whatever was inside his stomach that Uraraka had forced into him earlier.

'What about h-his eyes?' He hesitantly asked, dread coursing through his arms and legs. There had to be a reason Recovery Girl hadn't included Shouto's eyes in her list.

'Have you ever got bleach on your skin, Midoriya-kun?' She answered with a question, heaving a bitter, defeated sigh.

'Well, yes. It was painful. Felt like my skin was coming off.' Izuku recalled. He had been thinking and cleaning at the same time and forgot to put on gloves before squirting bleach.

Recovery Girl nodded. 'They poured bleach into Todoroki-kun's eyes. It is possible that he might never get his vision back.'

The world went silent around Izuku. At some point, he was guided to a nearby bench and sat down forcefully. His eyes locked with the harsh glare of Recovery Girl and he breathed with her. In and out. In and out. In and out.

In.

Out.

'Wha-.' He cleared his throat to unblock it after he brought his breathing under control. 'What can I do to help?' He felt faint. No, it could not be true. His beloved boyfriend could not go blind in both eyes. He was too strong for that. Too stubborn.

'At this point, nothing. However-.' Recovery Girl was cut off as a heat blast came their way from the direction of the makeshift tent. Mountains of ice followed next as people scrambled away from danger zone.

Izuku and Recovery Girl sprinted towards it.

Izuku arrived first.

The makeshift tent was wrecked. Canvas and bed sheet were on fire. Ice covered tables and ground. A nurse had his entire arm encased in thick block of ice, hand still holding a syringe.

And standing in the middle of everything was Shouto. Fire traveled up and down his left arm, ice formed a thin layer on his right. He was leaning too far against the emergency bed, waving his arms in every direction in a crazed manner, like he was trying to ward off monsters that only he could see. He looked so small in the white, baggy hospital suit, so lost with the upper part of his face covered with new, sterilised bandage. He was breathing too fast for it to be safe.

‘Shouto!’ Izuku called, wanting to tell Shouto that he was safe, that nothing could hurt him now, that Izuku was here to help.

He had expected Shouto to calm down and said his name (he hadn’t heard his name in Shouto’s deep tenor in three weeks), to break down and let Izuku help.

He hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of a Giant Ice Wall.

The attack that shook the stadium back in their first-year Sport Festival.

The last time Shouto had voluntarily directed his ice in Izuku’s direction with the intent to hurt was during the same sport festival.

As it was, he was too shock to completely evade the mountain of ice and ended up having his legs completely immobilised. He looked up at Shouto only to see him raise his left arm, fire ready to incinerate Izuku, his fast breathing rattling his bony frame.

Shouto pulled back his arm, fire a whirling tornado around his arm. Izuku stared at it, mesmerized, as fire came towards him.

If getting burned meant Shouto would get better, he had no hesitation.

'Midoriya! Todoroki! What do you two think you are doing?' Recovery Girl's raspy, anger-laced tone drew Izuku out of his daze. He punched the ice around his legs to free himself. Shouto let go of his control, fire fluttering away in bright sparks. He turned his head in Recovery Girl's general direction, mouth set in a deep frown as if he was trying to see whether it was reality or imagination.

'Shou...to?' Izuku hesitantly called out again. To his detached surprise, Shouto lapsed into a full-blown panic attack as soon as the words left him. His right hand came up to cover his ears, his left hand clutched at his heart. Fire and ice came and went with his speeding breath. Pitiful whimper escaped his mouth.

Izuku was slow to react.

Recovery Girl beat him to it. She ran towards Shouto and nudged him to sit down. She cradled his head in her arms, rubbing soothing circles on his back, murmuring comforting sounds.

Izuku felt an irrational envy.

It should be him comforting Shouto. It should be him holding Shouto tight and grounding him to reality.

It should be him.

He paddled over to Shouto, who gave a violent reaction and a half-formed scream at Izuku's footsteps. He struggled against Recovery Girl's arms, accidentally icing her glasses and leaving blackened marks on her white coat.

'Midoriya, don't come any closer!' She shouted at him as she struggled to hold Shouto still. 'You are making it worse!'

His heart stopped. This was not happening. He could not be the reason why Shouto had a panic attack. He could not be the reason why Shouto was in more pain. He could not be.

'Midoriya, please, get out.' Recovery Girl got the words out with difficulty as Shouto's thrashing had become more violent and uncontrollable.

His legs took him outside before he even registered her command.

He closed the flap of the tent behind his back and collapsed onto the floor in an undignified heap.

Recovery Girl's comforting shushing and Shouto's heart-breaking weep flowed into his ears in waves.

Tears flowed freely from his eyes.

How useless he was.

What a hero he made, when he could not help the one he loved most?