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graceful-starker · 2 months ago

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Cockwarming

Summary: Tony is too embarrassed to just ask for what he needs. But Peter doesn’t mind. Peter already knows what he needs. Peter always knows.

Warnings: Dom/sub themes, dom!Peter, cockwarming, mild negative self-thoughts.

WC/Rating: 2222/E

Notes: I am using a random number generator, because I want to do all of these prompts but not in order.

~~~

Tony fidgets restlessly, fingers drumming against the table in a way that annoys even himself. He wants to stop; he wants to be quiet and good for his lab partner, but he can’t. His mind won’t shut the fuck up, and he feels the need to go do something. Like beat up some bad guys, or race his car, or-

“Tony?” Peter asks, and Tony stops his fingers immediately. He knows Peter wants him to look at him, but he can’t right now. He needs to tell Peter; Peter will understand. He always understands, when Tony gets like this. He understands Tony better than Tony understands himself. At all times, but especially like this, when Tony gets into this certain headspace he can never get himself out of.

“Tony,” Peter says, a warning note in his voice now. Tony knows Peter wants eye contact, and if he can’t do that he needs to tell Peter. He just needs to tell Peter what he needs. He only needs to use his words.

But Tony has never been good at this part. He’s never been good at simply asking for this. He’s embarrassed that he even needs it in the first place. Tony needs things, and it's embarrassing; both that he needs it and what he actually needs. He doesn’t know why, but it just is.

Peter stands from his own space and walks in front of Tony, allowing the table to separate them for now. He just stands there for a second, and Tony starts to squirm in his seat as he death glares his fingers for betraying him and giving his headspace away.

But Tony doesn’t move or tell Peter to get back to work, and so Peter waits one of Tony’s shaky breaths, then two. Then there’s a hand fisted in Tony’s hair, forcing Tony to look at Peter. Tony hisses at the sting, allowing tears to well up in his eyes despite the shame he feels coursing through him. He forces himself to keep eye contact now, now that Peter has taken the first step and forced Tony to.

Peter’s lips are set in a thoughtful frown as his eyes roam Tony’s face, reading something there that Tony is incapable of putting into words. Then his hand slowly releases Tony’s hair, his lips twitching proudly when Tony doesn’t look away. “Stand up, Tony,” he commands softly.

Tony swallows thickly, taking in a shaky breath before letting it out again. Then he finally stands, lifting his chin in false bravado as he maintains eye contact. His hands are shaking, so he balls them into fists and slams them into his thighs.

Peter sees anyway, and he’s unimpressed by Tony’s weak attempt at defiance. He raises one eyebrow in a mock question, and Tony feels his teeth grind together. He hates this, he hates this so fucking much. He hates feeling like this, so full of shame and self-hatred. His mind won’t fucking shut up either.

Peter hums, satisfied by the lack of fight if not full on submission. “Take your shirt off,” he says, in that infuriatingly calm voice. Tony hates it, he hates Peter.

No, he doesn’t. Could never. But he thinks it anyway, if only to give himself something else to hate.

He breathes in and out, gives himself five seconds to accept what’s about to happen. Then he yanks his shift off, lacking all grace, and balls it in his fist. His hand shakes when he releases it, letting it fall on his lab work.

“Good,” Peter praises, and Tony’s nostrils flair with the need to disagree. All he did was take his stupid shirt off, and he even hesitated. But Peter doesn’t give him long enough to protest. “Now your shoes. Off.”

Tony doesn’t hesitate as long this time; he counts to three, before bending over to untie his sneakers. He toes them off, before pushing them under his desk so they aren’t in the way. He thinks about rebelling in a small way, thinks of straightening back up and glaring at Peter. He decides against it, and peels his socks off per Peter’s unspoken second command. He shoves them into his shoes before standing up again, his breathing already getting heavier.

Peter actually smiles at him, and Tony holds his breath. Peter rarely smiles at him during these scenes; he knows it isn’t what Tony needs. Or maybe it is; Tony doesn’t know anymore. He wants his brain to be quiet, and Peter seems to be the only one who knows how to make it. “Good job,” Peter whispers, as if he thinks Tony might run like a startled deer if he speaks too loudly.

Tony might, if he’s honest with himself.

“Pants, now,” Peter says at a normal volume, clinical command in his tone. It’s such a stark contrast to the loving smile, to the whispered praise, that it shocks Tony. It shocks him still, and god damn it, how does Peter do that? How does he know? “Fold them too, and put them on your chair after.”

Tony counts to two this time, before taking his belt off and dropping his jeans. He folds them carefully, keeping the belt in the loops, and puts them on the chair he vacated. He looks back to Peter, taking another deep breath.

Peter hums in approval, cocking his head to the side as he considers Tony. Tony starts to squirm after a few seconds, breathing coming faster, and his hands itch to grab for his shirt. Somehow Peter waits for the exact second Tony was considering looking away, before he hums again. “Now your boxers. Fold them on top of your jeans.”

Tony’s fingers flex, but he doesn’t hesitate this time. His boxers are folded on top of his jeans before he thinks about it, and he’s back to staring at Peter. He doesn’t like this very much, being naked while Peter is fully dressed. He isn’t even hard yet, despite the arousal starting to warm him from the inside. He’s embarrassed, more embarrassed by the fact that he actually wants and needs this than by the act itself.

Peter’s lips twitch as he watches Tony’s face, allowing Tony to fidget in the silence. He waits, waits until Tony feels just about to burst before giving his next command. “Come here,” he says softly, but it leaves no room for argument.

Tony counts to three in his head, taking a deep and steadying breath before he walks around the table to stand in front of Peter.

Peter wastes no time, letting one hand reach out to gently caress at Tony’s jawline and the other resting over Tony’s heart. It feels nice, too nice, and Tony wants to use his safe word. He wants Peter to stop, wants him to do literally anything other than show how much he loves and cares about Tony.

Either the panic in Tony’s eyes does it, or the way his chest is starting to heave; either way, Peter somehow knows the exact second Tony is about to break. Tony isn’t sure how Peter always knows, but he’s grateful for it. He’s never trusted anyone half as much as he trusts Peter.

And isn’t that just too vulnerable a thought to exist?

Peter’s fingers on his jaw turn into a rough grip, forcing a gasp out of Tony’s lungs and the thoughts out of Tony’s brain. The dull ache of too tight a grip on Tony’s jaw hurts so good, good enough to let Tony focus on Peter again. “Are you going to be good for me, Tony? Or do you need me to help you be good?”

If this was anyone else, it might be a tease. If Peter were with a normal partner, the question might mean ‘are you in the mood to be a brat or be a good little sub?’ But Tony isn’t normal, and he never wants to be a brat. That requires too much thought and too much confidence on Tony’s part. No, Peter is asking if he’s capable of participating, or if he needs Peter to control everything.

Tony doesn’t know the answer, so he just stares at Peter with wide eyes and breath coming too quickly in and out of his nose.

But it’s okay that Tony doesn’t know the answer; a fact that took far too long to accept. He doesn’t need to know, because Peter knows. Peter always knows.

Peter hums, letting go of Tony all together. Tony leans forward at the loss; was he leaning on Peter’s hand on his chest? He didn’t realize it, but he certainly did lose his balance just then. “That’s okay. I know what you need,” Peter says confidently. And yeah, yeah he does. Tony knows he does.

“Come here,” Peter says, and lets Tony take in the words before he starts to back away. Tony follows, legs only a little shaky. Peter sits back down on his stool, and Tony freezes in front of him. “On your knees for me,” Peter demands, and Tony falls. He winces as his knees hit the floor, knowing he’s going to feel that more later. He should know better, he isn’t as young as he used to be, that was stupid-

Peter tsks, and Tony’s head shoots up, eyes wide with the horror of disappointing Peter. Peter runs a thumb over Tony’s lower lip, and Tony feels his mouth open on a gasp. “There you are,” Peter murmurs, more to himself than to Tony, and Tony hates that Peter knows him so well, knows the very second Tony’s mind starts to go too fast again. Or loves it, he can’t remember right now.

Peter distracts him again, by letting go of Tony. Tony has to fight hard not to chase those fingers, instead gritting his teeth and forcing his back straight. Peter hums softly and pulls his zipper down, shoving them and his underwear down just enough to pull his cock out. It’s still mostly soft, and Tony is shocked to realize that he himself is already fully hard. When did that happen? He hasn’t even been touched.

“Open your pretty mouth,” Peter says, his right hand reaching out to cup Tony’s jaw again. His left hand holds his cock up and still, and it twitches once in interest for what’s about to happen.

Tony sucks in a sharp breath, letting the shame wash over him as he closes his eyes. He lets himself wallow for three seconds, before opening them again. Peter lets him, because he knows Tony needs it. He finally lets his jaw drop, and then opens it even wider and sticks his tongue out just enough to cover his lower row of teeth.

“Good,” Peter breathes, as if he’s shocked Tony listened, and the tone makes a shiver run down Tony’s naked back. Peter moves the hand cupping Tony’s jaw behind his head, pulling gently until Tony follows. Peter pushes until his tip is in Tony’s mouth, and then pauses to let Tony breathe.

Tony swallows thickly, taking a deep breath before making eye contact again. His brain is starting to quiet already, and it’s so fucking embarrassing that he needs this but he does and he’s so fucking lucky Peter knows how to handle it.

Peter uses his thumb to stroke under Tony’s ear, and it feels so good that his eyes flutter. He pushes Tony the rest of the way down, until his nose is in Peter’s pelvis and his chin rests against Peter’s balls. Peter licks his lips appreciatively, scratching at Tony’s scalp in a way that makes Tony’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Good,” Peter says, and his voice is so calm and in control. There is no hesitation, no shaking in his voice, no self consciousness or anxiety. Just cool, calm, collected control. He knows what he wants, what he wants Tony to do, what will happen. Because Tony will listen, and Peter knows what Tony needs.

Tony is jealous, normally, but not right now. Right now his world is slowly narrowing to Peter’s hardening cock in his mouth, to Peter’s fingers in his hair, to Peter’s ankles in his grip–when did that happen?–to the way Peter smells, to Peter’s abs being the only thing he can see.

Peter starts to pet Tony’s hair, smiling down at him. Tony’s brain finally starts to turn off, and his eyes start to drift closed the longer he’s here. Drool is starting to roll down his chin and throat, but he doesn’t even care or feel shame from it.

Peter uses his other hand to type on his computer, but his left hand remains loyally in Tony’s hair. Tony’s eyes are fully closed, his cheek resting fully on Peter’s thigh. It’s kind of hard to breathe with his nose in Peter’s skin, but he can breathe enough that he needs to focus on it but not worry about it. His hands are wrapped loosely around Peter’s ankles, and where his body connects with Peter’s is the only thing that matters anymore. Tony is too embarrassed to just ask for what he needs. But Peter doesn’t mind. Peter already knows what he needs. Peter always knows. And Tony trusts him to know what Tony needs, even more than he trusts himself.

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #sfkinktober24 #my writing #tw: self deprecation

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zimt-deathnote · 1 year ago

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Are y'all ready to sob with me?! 🥲 I know this is really over the top and I feel the need to apologise for putting those two in this scenario. Though we could all use some more honest emotional intimacy sometimes, no? I hope you all feel that hug 💙 And man, I bet those salty tears burn like acid on the healing tissue.

Explanation for the conversation at the end: I have this headcanon that ever since they found that gun, Mellos last line of defense for EVERY plan is "If everything goes south, I'll just shoot us outta there" and that line became something of an inside joke between them.

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giggly-squiggily · 4 days ago

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sorry idk how many rqs we're allowed to send in but if its ok!! lee!kenma and ler!kuroo bc im in love w them after seeing the hq movie. romantic with “Look how red you are! How cute!” thank you!! doing the lords work 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Friend you are so sweet! Thank you! :D I really like these two- especially after the movie! I've gotcha covered!

CW: Some self-deprecation

“Babe- look how RED you are!” Kuroo was laughing like a child while Kenma shot his hands to his cheeks. “It’s so cute!”

“Stop! Is it that bad?” He knew it was even while asking. They’d been running for awhile now- he probably looked like a freshly watered tomato plant. “I look terrible, don’t I?”

“No way! I love how red you get! It’s so pretty!” Kuroo gathered him up in his arms, making Kenma blush even more. “You look like you’re glowing! My glowing Kemna, hehe.”

“More like your grotesque Kenma.” He didn’t know why he was feeling so dejected over it. It wasn’t the first time he looked like this before Kuroo. Maybe now that they were actually dating, something changed?

“Hey.” A finger poked his side, making him twitch. “Who are you to talk about my gorgeous boyfriend like that, huh?”

“I know the couple- I’m not referring to the tall one.” Kenma’s words shook as more fingers explored, tapping and swirling along his ribs. “The shoohort one lohohoks like a trohohohll!”

“Oh hell NO! You’re gonna take that back right now!” Kuroo grabbed both his sides, tickling with all his might. “That short one is a beautiful elf creature who I love very much! He’s funny and supportive and smart as all hell! If anyone’s a troll, it’s the tall brunette he’s with! How’d he pick someone so fiendish?”

“Shuhuhuhut up! Thahahaht brunette is MY bohohohyfriend!” Kenma caught his hands, glaring with all his might through his laughter. “And he’s not a fiend! He’s thoughtful and well spoken, and he always makes that elf feel like he’s playing the best game in the whole world just being with him.”

Kuroo’s eyes glittered some, his smile shaky as he hugged Kemna close to him. “You really think that, my beloved elf?”

“You know I do. I think a lot of things about you- all good ones.” He was blushing again, but he didn’t care one bit. Not when Kuroo had that beautiful smile on. “Sorry- I shouldn’t be so mean to myself. I know it makes you sad.”

“It does. But I forgive you.” Kuroo kissed his brow, resting his chin on his head. “Let’s both agree we’re the hottest to come out of Nekoma, yeah?”

“Pfft-” Kenma laughed, nodding as he hugged Kuroo back. “Fair enough! I’m hungry- can we get something on the way back?”

“Finally hungry, huh?” The brunette laughed as they began their walk to the convenience store. “Sounds good.”

Send me a sentence starter and I'll write a dabble for you! :D

#Puffs #sentence starters #tickle #tickle dabble #kurooken #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #fluff #tw: self deprecation #but not like strong deprecation #some not alot #I love them your honor

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ashensgrotto · 10 months ago

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Monophobia

I've been struggling with writing a bit lately and I think it's because I'm stuck at the moment.

I get moments like these when I'm not completely at my best and a lot of internal fears, sadness, and anxiety rebuild itself within my mind and I start wondering if where I'm going is where I want to be or asking myself a lot of 'are you sure?' questions. I sometimes end up doubting myself, too, in the process.

But, I did want to write something since I've been quiet for a while, so I wrote kind of a short poem/story thing about the internal works of my brain - to give you an idea what it's like inside my head.

Don't know if anyone will read this but... eh, why not?

Also: Autophobia, also called monophobia, isolophobia, or eremophobia, is the specific phobia or a morbid fear or dread of oneself or of being alone, isolated, abandoned, and ignored. This specific phobia is associated with the idea of being alone, often causing severe anxiety.

******

There are days when I am surrounded by clouds of fear; fear of hatred, fear of regret… fear of abandonment.

It’s on these days that I often peer out of my darkness and see the world as something that I cannot touch.

I see families and friends, connections made by smiles and laughter, grief and pain… love and hope.

I fear that if I were to take a step out of my confinement, I would instantly have backs turned toward me.

Those words of my past - ugly, crazy, disgusting, weird - would all come back and leave scars on my already battered heart.

I fear I cannot love nor be loved, I fear that I will never be accepted… that I will forever be alone.

That I must walk this life alone.

So I leave my words outside my hiding place, stories of lives I wish I could live… in the hopes that maybe someone would knock on my door.

If I were braver, I would take the first step. If I was stronger, I would have protected myself… If I was smarter, perhaps I would be more than what I currently am.

But for now… I’ll continue to hide in the shadows, protecting what little of my heart remains… writing the lives I wish I could live, and listening for that first knock on my door.

Maybe someday… I will feel like I belong.

#grotto business #tw: fear #monophobia #short story #short poem #tw: self deprecation #personal thoughts

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alchemicalwerewolf · 6 months ago

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it’s so bad when people are like, I hate myself. I’m just like noooo doooonnnnt!!! And I’m over here hating everything, and doing the exact opposite of my own advice, but I don’t want them to be upset, and I want them to live themselves! Like, please, don’t feel that, i understand and I don’t want anyone to go through that

#tw: self deprecation #tw: self hatred

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bnha-more-like-bnh-gay · 2 years ago

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I got a prompt for you! Prompt: Tired of the daily abuse he suffers, Izuku makes the choice to run away, hoping for his mother's life to get better once he's gone. Keep in mind this Izuku isn't blinded by the flashiness of heroics and gave up on it a long time ago.

So as Izuku wanders the streets alone, he meets up with some of the future LOV members such as Dabi, Toga, Spinner, Compress, ect.

Together they form a found family with a mission to work their way up to expose hero society and change it for the better (instead of whatever the hell the LOV were doing)

HELLO, I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, SCHOOL AND MY BRAIN FUCKED ME OVER, BUT Y E S!!!!! I LOVE

Okay, imma be honest, a large part of this is going to involve toga, because I love her so much and she deserves so much better than she got, and she and izuku would’ve been such good friends if they had met earlier

Tw: for bullying and self esteem issues (a lot of self blaming) and as a general rule for my headcanons,,,,,, ✨angst✨

Kaachan and his ✨henchmen✨ had been getting worse lately. Well, ever since his “diagnosis,” it had been getting worse and worse, but izuku was about to reach is breaking point

Every day, he heard about how it was his fault that his father left, that no one loved or cared about him, that the world would be better off without him, that his mother would be better off without him.

He could see how tired she was, he could tell that the bills were starting to stack up, and that kaachan repeatedly busting his hearing aids was Not Helping.

Really, izuku knew they were right (they’re not, I’ll fight them). If he wasn’t such a burden on his mother, she’d probably be a lot happier. She’d probably smile more. Sing more. Hell, her husband wouldn’t have left her if it hadn’t been for him!

His mom worked long hours, so he’d often wander through the streets if he didn’t have too much homework. It was rather peaceful in the early hours of the morning when his mother had the night shift and izuku would find his only friends in the alley cats

That being said, izuku also knew it was rather dangerous in dark alleyways during nightfall. Especially for a quirkless kid. But, that had never stopped him before, and so, when he hears muttering from a few streets over, he silently, curiously, stupidly! Izuku, turn back now! The rational part of his brain reprimanded.

He didn’t listen

Eventually, he found a girl in one alley, only a few turns away from his, she seemed to be taking to herself?

Well. Izuku wasn’t one to judge. Especially when he did the same thing!

But she seemed to be in distress. Her muttering was getting louder, and seemed to be turning into a full on beat down of her own misgivings

Again, izuku could relate

He approached her, asking if she was okay. He made sure to stay several meters away, he might not have much self preservation, but he wasn’t stupid

She looked at him frantically. Oh kami, why did she have a knife?! (Please imagine the vine there) she was telling him to stay back, too

But again, when has izuku ever done what people tell him to?

He tells her his name and tries to reassure her that he’s not going to hurt her, that she’s safe

It takes a while, but she is eventually able to calm down a bit

It’s strange really, two kids who couldn’t have been out of middle school out in the middle of the night. But, they started to talk.

For the first time since he was 4, izuku had someone he could consider a friend? Well. Aside from the cats, of course!

Toga was so kind! And she was just as excitable as him! She really liked cute things, so he decided that he had to show her all the pictures of his alley cat friends!

She. Loved. Them.

He taught her how to get close with them! You just had to be a little patient! She wasn’t the best with that, but that was okay! She would do anything for a friend, and her new friend really liked these cats! So, she could totally be patient for them!!

It was worth it too! They were so cute, and izu-Chan looked even cuter holding them!! (Not an izutoga ship, she just loves cute things)

The two young teens (I imagine they’re like,,, 13 and 14 around now? Maybe 14 and 15? Toga runs away after she graduates middle school at 15, so like,,,, around there), as the weeks go on and they get to know each other, toga begins to open up about her family’s hatred and suppression of her quirk, and izuku tells her about his quirklessness, the bullying, and the stress he puts on his mother

She is incredibly protective of him. That’s her little brother/best friend/only person who cares about her/her person.

He’s the same with her, really, just shows it a bit differently. Has 1000000% written 100+ page PowerPoints on how once she is and that she can do anything she puts her mind to

She’s more action and physical based. She’s very affectionate, she hugs him as often as she can. They’re both touch starved, and she knows she’s not the best with words. So, she steals shit for him.

He doesn’t know that it’s stealing at first, when she shows up with a new notebook after kaachan burned another one. She doesn’t get why he’s so worried about her stealing at first. It’s only from big companies and corporations that could afford to lose a few notebooks every now and then. He just doesn’t want her to get caught though. But she’s safe! Really!!

They find Dabi a few months later. He’s older than them by 7 and 8 years respectively, and he’s kind of an asshole. But toga likes his spunk and disregard for the rules. And izuku likes that he doesn’t care about quirks

Dabi and toga shit talk katsuki and I will not be told otherwise. Izuku feels bad at first, but they kinda put it into perspective of like, “how would you feel if he was doing/saying this stuff to/about us?” And izuku just like >:0

Obviously it took a while, and he still doesn’t know that they made shirts with katsuki’s face in the 🚫 sign, but I like to imagine that they show up to pick izuku up from school wearing them and bakugku had a conniption

Toga and izuku don’t actually run away until toga’s graduation from middle school

Some of her classmates pulled a really asshole prank on her and she had a panic attack. She ran away from the ceremony thing and was later found by a frantic izuku and dabi (her brothers)

She told them that she couldn’t go back. That her parents were mad at, no, disgraced by her

Dabi was mad. “More bitch ass parents. The worlds just fucken’ full of them”

- dabi, 2xxx

He offers to kill them for her. Izuku tells him no :( shame.

Let’s just say that this is around the time bakugou says his infamous “swan dive” comment and the sludge villain incident (I know I think both toga running away and that whole deal would happen around the relative same few months, so let’s just push them together! Why not!)

And the three decide to pull a little disappearing act

Well. Mainly toga and izuku. Dabi pulled his disappearing stunt a while ago. He gives them pointers. Dramatic bitch

Let’s be real, the three of them are all dramatic bitches

Izuku leaves a letter to his mom, explaining that he’s sorry for putting her in such a difficult place, and that he hopes she can find happiness, and that he’ll miss her.

:((((((((((((

They end up crashing a couple towns away in an abandoned building. Not very safe, but. Abandoned. Sooo

Toga says that the building is just like them

Abandoned

Dabi tells her not to look too deeply into it, but izuku thinks about that statement a lot

Spinner and dabi both have like… 0 respect for heroes. -10 actually. But, spinner is quite interested by these three vagabond’s plan to expose corrupt heroes and make society a better place, so, he tags along.

Mr. Compress catches dabi trying to pick pocket someone.

It goes badly </3

Dabi’s slight of hand just needs a bit of practice, and who’s better to teach him than a world class thief?

No one. That’s who.

Mr. Compress cannot believe he’s going to have to parent these teens and young adults. Fuck man. Can he leave now? He didn’t ask for this, he just wanted to share some tricks to the next generation of thieves, now he’s listening to this green child explain their plot for world domination?!

Oh, what’s that? It’s not world domination? Fine. Guess he’s going to teach these four how to steal shit because he will not be caught dead with criminals who don’t know how to complete a heist

Obviously, they go after endeavor first.

They take great joy in destroying him.

What?? Just because they aren’t the league of villains doesn’t mean our vigilante crew doesn’t enjoy some sweet sweet revenge on those who have hurt their little make shift family!

Mr. Compress is not a dad. He’s just not.

Did he show izuku all his masks and listen to the boy nerd out about them and their different histories and design origins? Yes. Did he think it was adorable? Yes.

That means nothing though and you can’t prove anything!

Spinner and dabi are the “cool” big brothers

Read: fucking dumbasses with issues with authority

It’s fine

Toga and izuku are feral sinanon rolls with issues with authority

Mr. Compress went from following his father’s footsteps in living life as a thief to overthrowing the hero commission with these kids who are all over a decade younger than him

Love that for him.

Dabi learns how to make katsudon for izuku when he’s homesick

Izuku helps dabi and toga deal with their quirk issues

They have a few run ins with stain, (spinner fanboys)

Izuku starts making them gear!

I don’t know why I love izuku making gear and tech, but he’s just such a smart and chaotic lad that I think it’s perfect for him

Definitely hacks into U.A. And plays online chess with nezu

He’s getting better

Nezu has heard whispers of their little group, and is quite excited to see how everything plays out!

I hope you liked thisss!!! Again, I am SO SORRY that this took so long. I had it in my drafts for about a week and worked on it when I could, but brain and homework were djsjcinsignaj

I love this thoughhhh!! Sorry if spinner and mr. Compress are ooc, I really don’t remember their personalities too much 😅 but I hope it was okay anyway!!!

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sortofanobsession · 2 years ago

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Roy/Jaime with Keeley friendship: Established Roy/Jaime. Jaime goes to Manchester to see his mum and is going to take the train back. A horrific train accident happens and Jaime's name was on the passenger list. Everyone thinks Jaime is dead, Roy is beside himself. Jaime is in fact alive and on different train, totally oblivious. He comes home late and decides not to wake a sleeping Roy, just climbs in with him. Imagine Roy's shock when he wakes up to his very much not dead boyfriend in his arms

A/N: I liiiiiive for this type of request. This is similar to a buddie one I did a long time ago but different enough that I had soooo much fun writing it. I'm still new to writing this group but I'm doing my best. Please remember that I am a lowly Midwestern American gal that has never left the States (though my sister did just get back from Scotland). So if their are typos or errors I apologize. Not beta read.

Enjoy

Ao3

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Paring: Roy Kent/Jamie Tartt, Roy & Keeley (platonic), Jamie & Keeley (Platonic), the afc Richmond himbos being themselves.

Word Count: 5k+

Content warning: train wreck, mentions of death, grief and loss, angst (happy ending), mentions of abuse, mentions of paranoia, mentions of head trauma, mentions of alcohol abuse, self-deprecation, self-destruction tendencies. Swearing, lots of swearing (can't believe I forgot that warning in a Roy Kent fic...)

Dead Phones and Train Wrecks

Jamie Tartt had always wanted his mother to be proud of him. Roy Kent had told him he'd never know if she was unless he got over the bullshit his dad did and went to see her. And as usual for Jamie, Roy was mostly right. So Jamie had gone to Manchester the week before training started for the new season. It would have been better if Roy had come with him, but someone had to look after Phoebe, and he needed to prepare for the new season. Roy had said that they would go earlier in the off-season next time. And that was enough to get Jamie to not put it off any longer. And he had a good week, despite having a few awkward run-ins with former Man City teammates and the occasional disgruntled fan. He didn’t care much about those. He was just glad they managed to avoid his dad. That was usually easy by avoiding the pubs and not eating at the same place regularly. It was annoying to have to keep such a paranoid schedule, but Jamie just told his mum it was because of the paparazzi. She didn't need to know that was only part of it. They just enjoyed trying new places, and thankfully, no one gave them too much trouble.

Jamie had decided at the last minute to take his mother to a restaurant in Liverpool she loved but rarely went to. His dad had never wanted to go that far when they were still a family, and Jamie hadn't had time once he got picked up for training. It was an underrated and easily overlooked cafe she would visit with her family when she was young. So Jamie had decided to have one last meal with his mum before he headed back to Richmond. Another new memory his dad couldn't taint or take from them. One for just Jamie and his mum as they try to fix their relationship.

The one thing Jamie didn’t account for was losing his charger and his phone dying. He didn’t think too much of it because Roy already knew he was going to be taking the train back and he didn't need to pick him up. And it would be late by the time he got in. Roy had to be at training the next day. Jamie did too, but if Jamie was tired, he could manage. He'd played in far worse conditions, thanks to his old man. Roy was grumpy on a good day. A bad day? Well, Jamie wouldn't be the reason the team ran laps til they puked, this time at least. Making sure Roy got sleep was a big part of that. So he told Roy over and over that he'd be fine. Jamie could survive having a dead phone for a few hours if he had to. He would be bored out of his mind, but he would suffer through it if it meant he could see Roy at the end of the day. He could catch a train after dinner and be home in a few hours. Roy wouldn’t get too mad, he hoped. He said goodbye to his mum outside the Lime Street station, got a new ticket, and managed to make the 7:30 train to London. He’d probably have to catch a cab or train home from there since his phone would be useless, and uber was not an option.

Roy couldn't breathe. He just alternates between staring at the news story on the TV and his phone. The train Jamie was taking home from Manchester was now a derailed heap of twisted metal and flames. He'd talked to Jamie just a few hours ago. But now he wasn't answering. No texts. No calls.

Roy had thought the day he'd retired from football had been the worst day of his life. But he'd give up his career, really anything and everything, to just go back a few hours and hear anything but that fucking voicemail message when he called Jamie's number. He looks at the headline again. The story updates, and the casualties number just keeps going up. Fuck. This cannot be how it ends. This can't be how Jamie Tartt’s story ends.

His phone rings in his hand, and his eyes snap to the screen with hope. Hope that is shattered when it's not Jamie calling. It was Ted. He doesn't have it in him to answer. He doesn't think even Ted Lasso's trademark optimism can help here. He can't let that damn yankee give him hope. Because Jamie had a recognizable fucking face. If he had been among the group they had rescued, that would have been news. Every news site was all over this story. Especially after someone at the train station had leaked that Jamie Tartt had been on the passenger list. Roy's phone kept going off with alerts and messages. But they were not from the one person he needed them to be. He looks up at the TV. The news just kept repeating the same thing. Casualties are high. First responders are searching, but it's a grim and solemn site. Thoughts and prayers. They just keep saying that their hearts go out to the families and friends. And that makes Roy want to scream. He wants to hit something until his knuckles bleed or his bones break. To feel something other than the pain in his chest and the ice-cold grip of fear on his heart.

His doorbell being rung, followed by knocking, finally drew his attention away from his TV and phone.

“Fuck off!” He growled when he threw the door open.

“I would if you’d have answered your phone,” Keeley says. She isn’t mad that he spoke to her like that. Roy was usually abrasive, but she knew right now he was the human equivalent of a live wire in water. ”Be glad it’s me and not everyone else.”

“Right now is-” Roy starts, but she stops him.

“I know,” she says, her tone sad.

Roy doesn’t have the energy to fight her, so he lets her in and returns to his living room. She follows him.

“Oh babe,” she says as she takes in the state of the room. The lamp that sat on the table was in pieces across the room. A few other things were not where they used to be and were probably among the other shards of ceramic and glass around the room. The one thing that was moved but wasn’t broken was a framed photo that usually was on a shelf. It was laying on the sofa next to Roy’s phone. It was a photo Phoebe had framed for Jamie’s birthday. It was of Roy and Jamie at one of Phoebe’s matches they’d been able to make. Phoebe got red carded and both men for sticking up for a teammate that had been fouled. Roy had been proud. Jamie had told her he’d do the same. Her teacher had texted Roy the picture with a reminder they were not supposed to encourage getting tossed from the game. Roy hadn’t cared. Sticking up for her team was more important than how many minutes she’d missed. Jamie had kept the photo for his lock screen for a while before it was gifted to him. Keeley set the photo on the table. It would crush Roy if anything happened to it now. Roy was never great at handling his emotions, especially the more painful ones. She glances at the news coverage. She grabs the remote and lowers the volume but leaves it on. She knew he would lose his shit if she turned it off. She didn’t want to make this harder than it already was, but she couldn’t just let him brood and spiral until he a broken shell of the man he was. Jamie had always brought so much out of Roy. For better or worse, Jamie had always made Roy feel, even when he didn't want to.

“When did you last hear from him?” She asks. He grunts as he picks up his phone.

She bites back a sigh. “He texted me last night, but I haven't heard from him today, have you?” she tried again.

Roy rubs his eyes but knows she will get it out of him eventually.

“He was at lunch. Fucking prick…” Keeley didn’t miss the way his voice broke as he said it. His fists clenched and opened repeatedly as he continued. “Lost his charger and didn’t know if his battery would last, but he’d try and stay off of it. Told him to get a new one. He said he’d be with his mum, so it wasn’t like he’d actually need to be on it. I told him that was stupid. That he was being stupid. Keeley, one of the last things I said to him-I didn’t mean to-he…”

“I know,” she puts a hand on his arm. “I’m sure he knew that you didn’t mean it.”

“Doesn’t matter if he did or didn’t. He’s dead.”

“We don’t know for sure that he-”

“LOOK AT IT!” Roy shouts as he points at the TV. “IT’S A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!”

“I know, but we don’t know anything yet, Roy. He could be fine, he-”

“If he was unharmed, he’d help. That’s just the shit he does now. Wants to help. And that would be on the news. He’s Jamie Fucking Tartt.” Roy sat down like it was taking all his energy to just exist. “If he’s injured, someone would have called, some hospital. And that would be news. The only other option is that he’s still in there. In that…fuck.” He pushes his palms against his eyes. His head hurt, and his eyes ached. Part of him just wanted to lie down or pass out. Maybe when he woke up, it would all just have been a fucking nightmare. Jamie would text him and say he was fine, and Roy would drive to wherever Jamie was and never let him go anywhere without him. But the more realistic and cynical part of Roy Kent knew this was real. There was no waking up from this hell.

“Okay,” Keeley says. She knew he had a point, but she just couldn’t let herself think that yet. If she did, she would lose it. Jamie was her friend. Roy was her friend. She needed to focus on keeping Roy at some sort of functioning baseline. Roy’s phone lit up. Ted was calling again. Roy just groaned and shoved it away. Keeley picked up.

“Hey, Ted,” She says as she goes into the kitchen. She’d make some tea. That will at least be something she can do to help.

“Keeley? You with Roy?” Ted asks.

“Yeah,” she answers.

“How is he doin'?” Ted asks. “Need one of us to come over? Because we can-”

“It’s not good,” she admits. “He just keeps checking the news. He’s already assuming the worst.”

“Maybe I should-”

“You just deal with the team, training starts tomorrow, and since they all are back, I'm sure they know. Colin and Isaac have already been texting me. You handle that. I’ll deal with Roy Kent.”

“Oh, okay,” Ted seems a bit hurt.

“I know you want to help, but I don’t think he wants anyone to see him like this. Not even me, but Jamie…I’m sure the team is struggling too. You focus on them. Leave this to me for now.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll see if any of Rebecca’s connections or Trent’s buddies know anything they aren’t sharing yet.”

“That would be great. I'll let him know someone is at least trying to do something."

"We're all trying. Let him know he's not alone."

"I will. Thanks, Ted.”

“Call me or Beard if you guys need anything or if you hear anything. If he…they’ll find him.”

She finishes making the tea as she ends the call. She pulls her own phone out and tells the team she is with Roy and that she’ll keep them in the loop. Text her, not him.

She hands Roy a mug that he takes almost on reflexes alone it seems.

“Ted says to call if you need anything,” she tells him. She sets his phone down on the seat beside him. “And I told the team I was here and to text me. Should give your phone a bit of rest.”

Roy grunts, eyes barely leaving the TV.

“Ted’s going to see if Rebecca and Trent can get any information that they might not be releasing publicly.” That had Roy’s attention snapping to her.

“Do you think they’d be able to find out if…”

“No guarantees, but I’m sure they’ll try if they haven’t reached out already. Have you talked to Jamie’s mum?”

“I can’t…not yet. I-”

“You don’t have the answers she’ll want. I get it, babe.” She sets to clean up the broken lamp and other debris.

“You don’t have to-” Roy starts, but she stops him.

“You drink your tea, I’ll do this, and then we get some food.”

“Not hungry,” Roy grunts.

“Still need to eat,” she says as she tosses some bigger pieces in a bin bag. Roy doesn’t say anything. It’s only after she finishes cleaning up that he thanks her. She waves it off.

An hour or later, Keeley almost called Beard for backup. The passenger list had been leaked before Keeley had even come over. So Keeley hadn't been surprised to find James Tartt Sr. making the whole damn thing about him. How his son had lost his way, and it's a tragedy that he'd never make a comeback. The audacity of that man to talk like that. It made it seem like Jamie was confirmed dead, but Keeley knew better than trust anything that came out of that man's mouth. He was an abusive and manipulative bastard. Roy had been enraged, and it had taken nearly 20 minutes to calm him enough to make a few phone calls. Rebecca was already looking into what could be done about Tartt Sr. Trent hadn't any new information, but he would make sure the reputable press knew the man was a pathetic old sod that knew nothing about Jamie.

“Jamie might be fit as fuck, but even he can’t survive that,” Roy says nodding at the screen when she came back into the living room. She looks over to see what is surely helicopter or drone footage of the charred carriages of the wreck. She sits beside him and nods.

“All we can do is wait,” she admits and settles in to wait with him.

Roy kicks Keeley out when it gets late, and it’s clear there isn’t anything new being reported. She only goes because he says he is going to turn in for the night. He gives in and crawls into bed. He pulls Jamie’s pillow closer, and the normally comforting scent of Jamie has fresh tears and sorrow rising in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Roy falls asleep from exhaustion on Jamie’s side of the bed.

Jamie was completely knackered by the time he reached London. People were saying the entire rail system seemed to be a fucking mess because of one train derailing. Jamie cursed himself for not having a working phone to look into it himself. Roy was right. It was stupid to have let it die. Jamie’d actually resorted to reading a book his mum gave him out of boredom on the train. The train got in over an hour later than normal, so he caught the first cab and would just pay the stupid fare. He just wanted to go home. See Roy and sleep in his own bed. He isn’t surprised the lights are all off by the time he lets himself into their flat. With practiced ease, he navigates the familiar layout. Leaves his shoes by the door after locking up. Silently making his way through the quiet hall to his room. He grins as he carefully sets his stuff inside the room. The lights from the street gave the room enough light to see Roy fast asleep on Jamie’s side of the bed. It makes Jamie’s chest feel warm and fuzzy. They were used to spending all day, every day together. They live together. They work together. Jamie is still shocked Roy hadn’t gotten annoyed with having him around 24/7. That Roy hadn’t gotten tired of Jamie’s shit and sent him packing. And here the man was, sleeping on Jamie's side of the bed, using his pillow like he really, truly, missed Jamie. He doesn’t have the heart to wake Roy now. And he’s honestly too fucking tired to chat. Jamie just quickly changes and carefully crawls into bed. Feels weird to be on Roy’s side, but he’s just happy to be home and in his own bed with Roy.

Roy was sure he had lost his mind when he woke up to the warmth and weight of an arm across his torso and legs tangled with his. His heart was pounding. What the fuck had he done? Had he gotten into the liquor before he went to bed and called someone? Had he gone out because being in their shared flat was excruciating, knowing Jamie would never walk through the door again? Was he that fucked in the head that he would do something this fucking heartless before even getting any confirmation, any closure? Roy was a fucking prick, and he couldn't even remember doing it. He just remembers going to bed and missing Jamie. But someone was here now and in their bed. It pains him to think of anyone else in his and Jamie’s bed. He just wants Jamie. He takes a shaky breath. He was almost afraid to open his eyes. The weight seemed so familiar. When he inhaled, he nearly choked. That scent was so very much the scent of home. Like Jamie fucking Tartt. And it broke his heart because there was no way this was Jamie. But part of him wanted to enjoy the insanity of the moment. Embrace the delusion his brain created at the idea of Jamie being alive and wrapped up in bed with Roy like he never left. Like he never went to Manchester. A sob caught in Roy's throat as he buried his face in his bedmate's neck. But the part that loved Jamie enough to still see this as a betrayal won out, and Roy couldn't stand it. He opened his eyes and was about to pull away and cuss out whoever it was when his world ground to a halt for the second time in less than a day. He'd recognize that fucking gorgeous face anywhere. That little scar on his brow and those perfect fucking lips. It didn't just look and feel like the familiar presence of Jamie Tartt. It was him. Either Roy had cracked up, and he was having the most vivid hallucination ever, or by some miracle, Jamie was right fucking here. Roy couldn't hold back the sheer amazement any more than he could hold back from touching Jamie. He needed to know this was real. That this wasn't a dream. He hadn't done something stupid and gotten himself brain-damaged. Fuck. Please let this be real. He carded his fingers through Jamie's hair. Brushed his fingers over Jamie's cheekbone and jaw. He gripped Jamie's face and placed a hesitant kiss on his lips. It all felt so impossible, but here he was. He could feel Jamie's muscles move as he stirred. Roy can't keep in the happy sob that rips its way from his chest as Jamie's eyes blink open. Fuck, those eyes were often his undoing, but this time Roy would happily get lost in them for eternity if it meant he got to keep Jamie with him.

Jamie wakes up with a hum as he feels fingers in his hair and featherweight touches to his face. Then a barely there kiss Jamie could have easily just dreamt of. It was gone so fast. He smiles as he blinks his eyes open and sees Roy looking at him like he'd never looked at him before. Like Jamie was some sort of fragile masterpiece or rare treasure. But something in that look had alarms going off in Jamie's head, and at first, he isn't sure why. He gets a good look at his boyfriend and can't even process the number of emotions Roy seems to be struggling with. But he knows one thing for sure. He had missed that man more than he thought he could for being gone for just a week.

Something in Roy shutters when Jamie's eyes open. Jamie smiles at him, and Roy thinks his heart might explode. It's a sleepy smile that always does things to Roy. Fuck, he didn't think he'd ever see those eyes in person again. Never see that smile. And the combination now makes his stomach flip, and his heart soar. Between the warmth of Jamie's skin under Roy's hand and the fact that he could feel Jamie's breath on his wrist. It makes the air catch in Roy's lungs, and his hands shake. Jamie was there. He could feel tears falling for once, and he didn’t care if anyone saw. Jamie was home. He was alive. Roy hadn't lost him.

Jamie was starting to get worried. Roy hadn't said a single word yet. And Roy fucking Kent never cried, but there were tears now. He'd cried when he announced his retirement from football, but Jamie had never seen it happen again. Jamie cried on occasion, but not Roy Fucking Kent. What the fuck was going on? “What’s wro-” Jamie starts to ask but is cut off when Roy kisses him. It’s a desperate and needy kiss this time. It wasn't anything like the ghost of a kiss he'd gotten before he opened his eyes. It was dizzying. Part of Jamie doesn’t want to end, but most of his brain is still confused as fuck. Roy was literally shaking. He pulls away to look at him again.

“How the fuck-” Roy starts but stops when Jamie reaches up and brushes tears off Roy’s face. Roy resists the urge to close his eyes and melt into Jamie's touch.

“Rough night?” Jamie asks.

“You’re alive,” Roy says it like it is genuinely magic. His eyes shone with what would call joy, maybe shock. Though Jamie couldn’t figure out why he was so shocked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Jamie grins. “I know I took a bit longer getting home, and you were out cold when I got in. I was knackered. Why would you think I wasn’t? I know my phone was dead, but not me.”

Roy grunts and sits up. He pulls the covers back to get a good look at his boyfriend. even moving his shirt out of the way to check for bruises or worse. Jamie just goes with it. He knows when Roy gets like this; there is no point in arguing. Roy could be a hell of a mother hen when he thinks someone he cares about is hurt or sick. Apparently, now was one of those times.

"Roy, why-" he starts to ask.

“Because your fucking train crashed!” Roy’s heart hammers in his chest as his hands move to check Jamie over again. Jamie is as solid as ever. Nothing seemed broken or even bruised as far as he could tell. He had to remind himself that Jamie was here and didn’t seem to have a scratch on him.

“We hit a few delays, but…” Jamie says. Roy can see the moment the gears seem to click, and Jamie realizes what happened. “Oh shit, the train from Piccadilly was the one that-okay now, that makes alotta-”

“Jamie,” Roy’s voice held more emotion than Jamie was used to as he grips the back of Jamie's neck, pulling him in until their foreheads touched. Whether it is to get Jamie to focus or to ground himself after thinking he'd lost Jamie, well, Jamie wasn't sure even Roy could answer that right now. But he didn't hate it. “What the fuck happened?” Roy finished saying.

“I went to dinner with my mum in Liverpool. Caught the train from Lime Street. Fuck, Roy, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

Roy cut him off by hauling him into a bone-crushing hug. “Everyone thought you were dead,” Roy manages to say, "your fucking old man, he said you were…fuck, Jamie, I thought I lost you." But it’s mumbled by the fact he’d buried his face in Jamie’s neck. Jamie’s grip tightens at the mention of his father. Bunching the fabric of the shirt Roy hadn’t even taken off when he went to sleep. Jamie hadn’t noticed the night before but it had been one of his, not one of Roys.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Jamie apologizes, “My stupid phone-”

“Fuck,” Roy growls. “Never. Again.”

“What?” Jamie is confused by the swift change from having his arms full of a desperate boyfriend to an angry one.

“You’re never going anywhere without me again,” Roy grits out.

Jamie lets out a shocked laugh. “Well, that’s not very realistic. You can’t be with me every second of-” Roy kisses him again and again. And Jamie lets him.

“Fucking watch me,” Roy says when he finally pulls back but keeps Jamie tight against him like if he lets him go, he will disappear.

“I usually do. We have a mirror. You’re fucking fit, like have ya-” Jamie is cut off as Roy’s phone starts to ring. Roy growls at it. Jamie huffs a laugh and looks at it over Roy’s shoulder. “It’s Keeley.”

“She can fucking wait,” Roy says, pulling the younger man back down to him. Jamie hums as Roy removes Jamie’s shirt. And Jamie almost forgets about the phone call, almost. Because it rings again. Roy grumbles something about throwing the damn thing out the window. Jamie chuckles as it goes to voicemail.

“Ya know, if everyone thought me dead, then we should probably-” Jamie is cut off again when Roy moves and pins him against the mattress.

“She. Can. Wait.”

“Sure, yeah, she can wait,” Jamie grins as Roy’s mouth moves to his neck. The rest of the morning is spent with Roy proving to Jamie that he needs him more than Jamie ever thought possible. And Jamie couldn't help but fall even harder for the man he'd spent years looking up to.

The AFC Richmond locker room has an uneasy silence as Keeley walks in. Morning training had been a dismal affair. It was like there was a black hole in the lineup where Jamie Tartt should be. Roy had told Keeley to meet him there. She looks around the room. Everyone looks devastated. They all knew that Jamie��s train had derailed. They knew the crews were still working on recovering the dead. It broke Keeley’s heart all over again seeing Dani Rojas wipes away tears and trying to avoid looking at Jamie's name on his cubby. Rebecca and Higgins were talking to Ted, Beard, and Trent.

“Is this about losing Jamie?” Sam asks when he sees Keeley. It seems almost painful for him to ask. It’s like he avoided saying his best friend was dead.

“Yeah, did they find him?” Colin asks. Clearly, avoiding the words as well.

“Where’s Kent?” Rebecca asks as they all leave the office and join the locker room.

“Roy said he was on the way,” Keeley says, glancing at her phone to ensure she hadn’t missed an update. “And yeah, said he wasn’t going to repeat himself, so everyone better fucking be here.”

“Everyone’s here but him…and well…Tartt,” Isaac says. “Obviously.”

“Maybe we shoulda donnit in text,” Jamie says as Roy kills the engine. He looks over at the player’s entrance at the dog track. Nervous that everyone would be pissed they didn’t tell them sooner. Or that he was playing a trick on them or something.

“They wouldn’t have believed it, and it’s always better to do this type of thing in person. Although I wouldn’t mind keeping you to myself a bit longer,” Roy admits.

Jamie grins. “Later,” he assures. “Because I feel bad they still think me dead. And I just keep seein this mental image of Dani looking like a kicked puppy, and I can’t live with that.”

“Fine,” Roy grunts. “Let's go.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Is the first thing they hear when they walk into the locker room. Jamie flinches.

“Fuck off, Isaac," Roy glares. His hand goes to the back of Jamie’s neck to anchor him. It is silent for a moment before everyone seems to start asking questions at once. Some of them are not even in English. Jamie's eyes go wide for a second, but he shakes it off. These were his friends, and they clearly had been feeling his loss.

“Jamie?” Keeley asks, and despite the chaos of the room, including Roy shouting at everyone to give them a fucking minute and they’d get their answers, Jamie hears her. He goes over to her.

“I’m sorry, Keeley,” Jamie says. “I didn’t know. My phone was dead, an’ I-Oof-” She half lunges at him and hugs him before he can finish his apology.

“You scared me,” she says when she looks up at him.

“Didn’t mean ta,” Jamie insists.

A loud whistle has everyone wincing and covering their ears. Jamie covers one of Keeley’s ears and presses her against his shoulder to cover the other. She can’t help but smile to herself. Can't keep the tears of joy away, either. He always surprises her these days. And not just by not being dead. He was so kind. He was easily one of her best friends. The whistle is followed by silence.

“Fucking hell,” Roy glares at Rebecca. She had taken Ted's whistle and blown it.

She shrugs. “Worked, didn’t it?

“You alright, Jamie?” Ted asks him when Keeley nudges Jamie and Roy further into the room. She sits on the bench in Jamie’s spot.

“Yeah, Coach,” he nods.

“Now I know you all have questions,” Roy says. “And they can fucking wait. Just listen.” He looks over at Jamie. Jamie’s nervous, and his hands are in his pockets

Roy just nudges him on.

“So you all know I went to visit me mum, haven’t seen her in years. Roy had me plan the whole week, but well, since when have I ever followed directions for that long?” Jamie grinned, earning a few chuckles.

“Yeah, I was set to be on that train from Manchester. Was supposed to spend the whole time in Manchester, but the less time I spent anywhere near those Man City pricks, the better. Seen too many of em over the week. So I had taken me mum to a cafe in Liverpool she likes. I took a later train from there. My phone was dead-”

“Of course, it was,” Sam shakes his head. “How did you survive before coach?”

"Feigned indifference and being overly cocksure, that’s how," Keeley answers. "But he's better now."

Jamie grins at her before continuing. “Right, so the mess out of Manchester delayed the whole fucking system, but no one was sure what train was the one that caused it, so by the time I got in, it was late, and I just went to bed. Didn't bother checkin’ or wakin' anyone."

“Must have been one hell of a shock for you, Roy,” Ted comments. Roy just grunts.

Jamie nods. “Pretty sure he didn’t think I was real, but that didn’t last long.” Jamie laughed. “Think he felt more in less than a minute than he knew he could.”

“Fuck off,” Roy says, but any impact the words might have had were undercut by the fact his hand was on the small of Jamie’s back like he was afraid to not have a physical connection to the man he thought he had lost.

“You knew all morning and are only telling us now?” Jan asks.

“If I had my way, you’d still all be in the fucking dark," Roy admits. Still not happy to have to share Jamie's attention so soon. "Don’t owe you shit when I'm at home."

That got a number of negative reactions from the players.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Ted says in an attempt to calm them. Roy grunts. Ted continues, “I know we all feel lucky to have you back, Jamie. Fellas you can ask him all the questions you want after training. Yesterday was a dark day, but today is brighter. Suns out, let’s get out there and get the ball rollin’.”

The players complain, but they go. Most patting Jamie on the back or hugging him in Dani’s case. Jamie laughed and hugged him back.

“Take your time, but not too much time,” Ted told Jamie as he followed the team out.

“You good?” Roy asks Jamie.

"Yeah, coach," Jamie nods and grins.

“Sure you want to train today?” Roy questions.

“You going to be fine if I do? It's a big pitch, and you haven't let me outta your grip since you woke up.” Jamie counters. Roy was still coming to terms with the emotional whiplash of the past day, and Jamie knows it. They had called Jamie's mum and Roy's sister when things had settled. Phoebe had been devastated when she thought Jamie was gone. Jamie had spent a good ten minutes convincing her that he was fine and they'd come to see her in a couple of days. Roy had barely let Jamie out of his sight the whole time. Roy just rolls his eyes and leaves him to change. Although Roy kept glancing over at him as he did. Roy goes over to where Keeley is talking to Rebecca and Higgins about a press release letting the fans know Jamie is fine and a statement about the accident. Maybe even getting some pictures proving Jamie was back training with the team. Rebecca had approved the idea, and Keeley had already texted a photographer friend to come round.

“None of that thought and prayers bullshit,” Roy tells them. “Empty fucking words.”

“He has a point. Maybe do a donation to the families or the workers. Thoughts and prayers seemed meaningless when he’d nearly thrown his remote at the tv when they started reading tweets about it on the news. Would have needed a new one if I wasn’t there,” Keeley says.

Jamie chuckles as he laces his boots and checks his shin guards. “Didn’t save the lamp,” Jamie grins.

“You didn't give a shit about that lamp. Could have been your stupid rabbit sculpture. That thing is-” Roy starts to say but stops when Jamie stands up and walks over.

“Fuck off,” Jamie grins. “Going to train, or you joinin’ the PR team?”

“Fucking Prick,” Roy grunts but goes with Jamie to the door.

“You fuckin’ luv me,” Jamie smirks.

“I fucking do,” Roy easily agrees. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Never,” Jamie gives him a kiss before they head out to join the team.

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musiclover1013 · 1 year ago

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Does anyone else think that their self harm scars are so pretty and beautiful. Like idk what it is but I'm proud of myself for making something that beautiful!

#self h@rm #tw: mental health #tw: self deprecation #tw: depression

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 2 years ago

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Midoriya-sensei AU

Part 13: Kacchan

Part 12 | Ao3 | Part 14

Look... these past few manga chapters have really fucked with me and some parts of this fic and I'm super mad about it, but alas canon can go fuck itself. Also unreq tdbk lost the poll *sad trombone noise* Anymoo, happy Mido-sensei Monday [is actually tuesday now bc I fell asleep proof-reading] - I hope you enjoy ❤️ TWs for this chapter include: -PTSD -Breakdowns and dissociation -Self-loathing -Accidental injury

'Honey? What time are you going out?'

Upon hearing his mother's question, Izuku removed his headphones and turned to face her.

He was currently cluttering the dining table with his hero analysis notebooks, along with his laptop. Shoto had hired a new sidekick recently—who could adjust the temperature of anything they touched—so naturally, Izuku had spent the morning analysing the quirk in detail. He was heading to Himura Agency soon to visit Shoto, so he wanted to finish up so he could take his notebook with him.

'In about fifteen minutes.' He double-checked the time, confirming his response. 'Why?'

'Do you not want to start getting ready?' She tilted her head to the side with concern. 'I don't want you rushing.'

'I'm nearly done, it's okay.' He assured gently, albeit he could definitely understand where she was coming from. Once he got into his flow state, it was difficult emerging from the other side. 'I'm just gonna finish this page, and then I'll clean up. I've already got my bag ready, and I don't need to get changed.'

He patted his yellow backpack, situated under the table, and smiled. 'Satisfied?'

'Yeah, alright.' She huffed, good-naturedly. 'I just don't want you stressing. I know what you're like. Plus, last time, you rushed out so quickly that I had to clean the table for you.'

'That was one time!' He cried dramatically. 'And I said I was sorry! When will the suffering end?'

'Never.' His mother flashed him a serious expression, before her joking smile resurfaced. 'Anyway, I'm going to the library to return a book for one of my patients. Have fun!'

'You too! If you see Himura-san, tell her I said hi.' Izuku picked up his pen and resumed writing.

'Oh, Todoroki-san's mother?' She paused, stroking her chin, before seemingly realising something. 'Wait, the nice lady with the white hair is their mother? Why didn't you tell me sooner?'

'I assumed you'd figured it out by the fact that Shoto's agency is named after her?' Izuku answered slowly. 'And that she and Fuyumi look really similar.'

'You hush now!' She pouted, walking past him to go put her shoes on. 'I can't believe we could've been sharing embarrassing childhood stories together this whole time. I should go to the library more often. Better make up for lost time.'

'Wait, hang on-'

'Byeee!'

Izuku grumbled as the door shut behind his mother, but didn't dwell on it too much. In truth, he didn't mind what the two women spoke about—he was old enough now where he wasn't affected by people knowing about his All Might obsession, which was his mother's main go-to when it came to embarrassing him—he was just glad they had the opportunity to maybe become friends.

He continued his analysis for another five minutes, before using all of his self-restraint to call it a day and tidy everything away. Once packed up, he grabbed his bag, put on his red shoes, then left the apartment.

It was a decent walk to Himura Agency—around thirty-five minutes—but Izuku wouldn't begrudge a little exercise. The streets weren't particularly busy, a normal amount of bustle for a Sunday, so he weaved through the crowds with relative ease. Once the agency was in his sights, he felt a small smile grace his face, glad of the familiarity.

However, just as he was about to enter, his path was blocked by someone else leaving.

Izuku stepped to the side politely—using the time to quickly type out a message to Shoto, to let him know he was here—but the person continued to shadow over him. He pointedly didn't make eye contact, but frowned at the inconvenience. Why were they standing in the way?

'Deku.'

Instinctively, Izuku flinched so violently that he dropped his phone and jumped a couple of steps backwards.

That voice.

He finally looked up at the person he'd been patiently waiting to pass, only to find spiked blonde hair, familiar red eyes, and an orange and green hero suit that was featured on so many sports brands throughout Japan, he'd have to be living under a rock to miss it.

The hero Dynamight was a household name, after all, but it wasn't him who was addressing Izuku at that moment.

'K-Kach-chan?' The way his voice broke was humiliating, as was the way his body immediately began shaking. For years, he’d been conditioned to react a certain way under the scrutiny of his childhood bully; it made him sick to know their decade apart hadn't changed that in the slightest. ‘W-W-What are you doing here?’

A stupid question. There was a clear reason why the number five hero was just leaving the agency of the number two. ‘Ah, you don’t have to answer that. Of course, it’s obvious why you’re here. In fact, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, as that’s certainly more out of the ordinary. It’s just, I didn’t expect to see you as it’s been years and I’ll stop talking now. I’m sorry.’

Kacchan sighed. Izuku closed his eyes with a wince, anticipating a hit. However, it never came.

‘It has been a while.’

Hesitantly, he opened one eye to find Kacchan regarding him with a mixture of emotions; his eyes were squinted in his usual displeased manner, albeit the anger that had typically manifested when they were children was absent. Izuku wasn’t sure whether that made him more or less nervous.

The silence was agonising, yet he kept his lips sealed. He knew better than to start talking and risk suffering Kacchan’s wrath. Wistfully, he hoped Shoto would read his message and come out to meet him before anything could get out of hand.

Kacchan sighed again. ‘I was actually hoping to run into you at some point. I could’ve reached out sooner, but it would've been weird tracking you down.’

Izuku tilted his head to the side.

‘What?’

‘Don’t sound so shocked.’ As soon as he said it, it became evident that Kacchan knew that what he was ordering was unreasonable. He shook his head. ‘Look, we need to talk. Are you free now?’

Izuku’s head thudded and his stomach dropped with anxiety; he could feel adrenaline pulsing through his body. In the past, he'd learnt the hard way that going somewhere alone with Kacchan was never a good idea—not that he'd ever really had much of a choice in their teen years. Now, he was being given a choice, yet it still felt like an illusion: he knew Kacchan well enough to know that “no” wasn’t an option.

‘I’m just about to see Shoto-kun.’ He pointed towards the agency, hoping that an excuse would be met better than an outright rejection. ‘I don’t really want to keep him waiti-’

‘You know Half n Half?’ Kacchan frowned for the briefest of moments, before bending down to pick up Izuku's discarded phone. ‘Doesn’t matter. Look, it won’t take long. Come on.’

Before he could protest further, a large hand grabbed his tricep and guided him past the building and down the side alley. Izuku tried to level his breathing—in, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four—to prevent him hyperventilating and entering a panic attack. He couldn’t show any weakness right now; he had to be brave.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He can’t hurt you, he’s a hero now. He tried to reason, desperately trying to ignore the other voice that reminded him of everything Endeavour had done to his family whilst working as a hero; of everything that had happened when they were children in the name of Kacchan wanting to be a hero.

He yearningly eyed his phone, still grasped in Kacchan’s hand. There was no calling for help. He was stuck.

After they passed some bins, he was finally released. 'That'll do.'

Izuku's back faced the wall, and he stared up at his old bully. He never did grow much taller; he still had the same colour trainers, and a backpack containing hero analysis notebooks. And of course, he was still quirkless, whereas Kacchan still defined himself through his explosions. Sure, he wasn't as over-excited and sadistic as he used to be, and his face had matured, but that didn't change facts.

Izuku was afraid.

It felt reminiscent of their middle school days: backed into a corner with nowhere to run, while Kacchan threatened to use his quirk on him. The only differences now were that they were older and one of them had a hero licence; and while he was hesitant to admit it, Izuku was also a lot stronger than he had been back then. Briefly, he entertained the thought that maybe—maybe—he could take Kacchan in a fight…

If the latter didn't have a quirk at his disposal.

'You wanted to talk?' He prompted, hoping the other would take the hint and explain, instead of just staring at him. 'What is it?'

'I can't just come out and say it!' Kacchan snapped, albeit there was little bite in it. He rubbed his brow. 'I just… Give me a sec.'

Izuku didn't have much of a choice, so he stayed where he was—body poised and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice—as Kacchan gathered his words.

'I did a lot of thinking over the years, about the way I treated you.' He started, slowly. 'I fucked up. I was a piece of shit.'

Izuku said nothing; he frowned, confused.

Where is this going?

Kacchan let out a frustrated groan.

'I realise now—why I did everything that I did. It's just, you were obviously meant to be behind me... but in a lot of ways, it also felt like you were ahead of me too.' Kacchan paused. 'I didn't like it. I didn't want to see you, so I bullied you to get away from you; to feel superior. I was scared… scared of you. Not in a prissy way obviously, but I hated how… stupidly heroic you were. You'd put yourself in stupid situations to try and help people and it made me mad, because it was supposed to be me whose body moved without thinking. I wanted to protect you from yourself, put you back in your place before you went and killed yourself, but I was wrong for what I did.

'I got my way back then, you failed at becoming a hero, yet I failed in my own goal. I wanted to be on top—I still do—but in order to do that, I have to get better. I have to recognise my mistakes and atone.

'So, that being said. Dek- Izuku… I wanted to apologise.' Kacchan hung his head. 'For everything I did to you.'

Izuku's body shook, whilst his heart pounded against his chest—so violent it hurt; his nails dug into his palms from how hard he was clenching his fists. He didn't know what to think—which probably reflected in his dumbfounded expression—it just didn't make sense. All these years, he'd had nothing, then suddenly… this? Kacchan was… sorry?

'Ha. Good one, Kacchan.' He laughed hollowly, then quickly slipped past the blonde with the intention of leaving. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, then he wanted to get a head start before he became the punchline. 'You almost had me. Anyway, nice seeing you, but I really have to go.'

'I mean it.' Kacchan didn't shout, but his voice carried; firm. 'I'm sorry.'

Izuku stilled, throat swelling as he forced his emotions to remain at bay. At first, he wouldn't—couldn't—believe it, but now he was faced with reality: Kacchan was actually apologising.

He wanted to ignore him. He wanted to keep walking. He wanted to forget this ever happened.

He didn't do any of that.

'You're not serious?' Izuku murmured, lips feeling foreign, as he turned around to face him. 'Is this a joke?'

Kacchan met his eyes and growled.

'Do I look like I'm fucking joking?!'

Izuku's arms shot up to protect himself, but the threat never came.

'Shit.' Kacchan at least had the decency to look guilty. 'Calm down, I'm not gonna hit you, and I'm not joking. I mean it.'

Izuku slowly lowered his arms.

He was conflicted. He knew he should be happy with the apology—it should be cathartic and he should admire how much Kacchan had grown. The right thing to do would be to forgive him, but as compassionate as people thought him to be and as much as he tried to be kind, resentment sprouted from the pit of his stomach.

'Why?'

'Why?' Kacchan echoed, sounding physically pained. 'I just told you why! It was a whole speech!'

Izuku's pulse drummed against his temples; his jaw clenched. Distantly, he heard a vibration.

'Cut the bullshit.' The words were out of his mouth before he could comprehend them.

'Hah?!' Kacchan started to exclaim, then caught himself, lowering the volume. 'It's not bullshit.'

'It is. It's all excuses.' Izuku gripped his hair and shook his head, surprised by his own nerve. He wanted to tell his brain to shut up. He wanted to forget this interaction all together—what was he doing? 'If you're s-sorry, then just say it. Don't try to justify it.'

'But I need you to understand why.' Kacchan argued, like it was obvious. 'I was trying to-'

'You've had a long time to think about this, to try and rationalise it.' Izuku interrupted, eye twitching from barely-repressed anxiety. He couldn't get his voice to stop trembling. 'But at the end of the day, Kacchan, y-you bullied me because I was- am quirkless.'

This time, it wasn't him who flinched.

'That's… that's not…'

'Isn't it?' He smiled wobbly. 'It wasn’t because I was useless D-Deku who couldn't fight back?'

His throat closed up, betraying him. 'I was an easy target. You say wanted to protect me from myself? You were my worst nightmare, and we both know that if I had a quirk, you wouldn't have done what you did.'

He had so many scars, so much mental baggage that he was still unravelling with his therapist after several years. He might not look after himself as well as he should sometimes, but that was irrelevant right now; it was always the same insults being thrown at him.

Useless, quirkless Deku.

'You d-don't need to pretend you did it with honourable intentions.' He shook his head slowly. 'If you genuinely regret what you did, just tell me. I might not have much self-preservation… but I don't think I deserve excuses.'

He bit his lip, waiting for a reaction. Initially, Kacchan remained silent, staring at him. Izuku wasn't sure if he was thinking of a response or waiting for something. Again, he could hear an indiscernible vibration.

'Okay.' Kacchan finally responded. 'No excuses… I- I'm sorry.'

A beat passed, then another. Izuku wanted to feel something, yet his mind—despite the adrenaline going through his body—felt numb.

'I accept your apology.' He forced his mouth to move, keeping his resolve. 'Th-'

'Midoriya?'

His head whipped around so fast his neck clicked. Shoto was walking towards them, slightly rushed and phone in hand. The first aid supplies on his belt clicked together from the momentum, as did his boots against the concrete.

When he came to a stop in front of Izuku, those dichromatic eyes scanned him carefully. 'Are you okay?'

He nodded, not trusting this voice.

Shoto's shoulders slumped with relief, then looked past Izuku to see who he was with. His eyes immediately narrowed. 'Bakugou? What are you doing here?'

Kacchan scoffed.

'Dek- u- Izuku and I were just having a private conversation.' He answered brashly. 'None of your fucking business, Half n Half.'

Shoto stepped past Izuku, putting himself between him and the blonde. It was almost a defensive shield, which he had to admit, he was grateful for.

'Then why have you got Midoriya's phone?'

Izuku's eyes widened—the vibration sound he had been hearing on and off—Shoto had been ringing him this entire time?

'Because he dropped it.' Kacchan stepped forward, holding out the device, which Izuku hesitantly took. 'Fuck off with the interrogation, Todoroki. I thought you hated cops, so stop sounding like one.'

'I don't need to be a pig to worry about my friend.' Shoto quipped, before switching his gaze to Izuku. 'Midoriya, are you ready to go or should I give you another few minutes?'

The idea of spending another few minutes alone with Kacchan was enough to make him feel nauseous, but he also didn’t want to convey that in his answer.

Don’t cry. Be brave. Don’t show them how weak you are.

‘Yeah, I’m ready now.’ He spoke quietly. ‘We’re done now, right, Kacchan?’

Crimson eyes regarded him carefully, before he waved his hand dismissively.

‘Whatever. I’ve said everything I needed to say anyway. I’m going home.’ Kacchan strode past them, towards the main street. However, before he could disappear completely, he called back. 'I've changed, Izuku. I won't ask you to believe me, but just… watch me, and I'll prove it to you.'

Izuku didn't reply, other than a slight nod of acknowledgement, and Kacchan made his exit with a grunt. Now that they were left alone, he felt a new sense of numbness wash over him; his eyes glazed over; his muscles refused to move.

Panic consumed him briefly. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't feel in control of his own body, yet instead of fighting it, all he could do was succumb to the way his senses slowly shut down. His mind soon followed after, rescinding the last of his perceived independent thoughts.

Powerless. Useless Deku. Weak-

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Shoto was in front of him again, but Izuku couldn’t focus. It took several seconds of silence before his friend cursed. ‘Shit, okay. Let’s get you up to my office… Can you still hear me?'

He couldn’t speak, but he did manage a slight nod.

'That's good. Okay, one more question: are you comfortable with me carrying you?’

Izuku nodded again, eyes falling shut of their own accord. He wasn't sure why he was acting this way—his episodes usually manifested into hyperactivity—but he couldn't even begin to analyse his behaviour right now. All he could do was focus on Shoto's body as the hero guided him into a piggyback and lifted him up with a slight grunt.

His arms rested on Shoto’s shoulders, while the strong hands under his legs held him up. Izuku's chest pressed against his friend's back—he tried to concentrate on the temperature contrast, which manifested into him resting his forehead against the left crook of Shoto's neck.

The warmth felt safe.

Had he not been stuck in his head, Izuku would have definitely panicked over their proximity. Instead, his body welcomed the touch with open arms; it was grounding. It also helped that Shoto didn't stiffen or reject him. He encouraged Izuku.

'I won't drop you, but try to hold on.' He murmured gently. 'Ready?'

When Izuku nodded, Shoto bent his knees, then jumped into the air, using fire from his left foot to send them higher. It didn't take long before they landed on the agency balcony, and Shoto slid open the door to his office.

Izuku kept his face firmly pressed against his friend's neck, until he was gently coaxed to sit down on the tatami floor and shed his backpack from his shoulders. He felt significantly lighter without it—his body had gotten used to the weight—but he didn't let the uncanny feeling linger for long, before he returned to nothing.

'I'm still here.' Shoto assured him gently. 'Just give me one second.'

The world was bright when Izuku tried opening his eyes in response, and he winced. Before he could squeeze them shut and resign himself to darkness again, Shoto pulled the hanging curtain framing the balcony door half-shut, bathing them in a dimmer, manageable light.

Izuku exhaled—the closest he could come to conveying his thanks—then watched as Shoto moved around the room, looking in drawers, on shelves and even Izuku's own backpack. Eventually, when his friend approached him once more and knelt in front of him, his arms were full.

'I've got some things that I know help me when I have a catatonic breakdown.' He shuffled slightly. 'I know this probably isn't the same, but yeah. And I know it's rude, but I also got some stuff from your bag because you've mentioned before that you have comfort items in there. Try to let me know if you're uncomfortable with anything.'

Shoto waited a moment, before taking two large pillows, placing them behind Izuku and switching on a remote, which made them start vibrating softly—like a purring cat. He then picked up a fluffy cream blanket and wrapped it around Izuku's body like a cape, making sure to cover most of his front too.

Izuku found himself leaning back against the materials, which cushioned the wall behind him, as Shoto started playing rain sounds from a portable speaker. He then handed Izuku his favourite All Might-themed stress ball that he always carried with him.

It was practically a reflex, the way his hand closed around it and started squeezing.

‘Th-Thanks.’ He spoke, matching each syllable with his wrist movements. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. ‘Helps.’

‘I’m glad.’ His friend replied. ‘Do you want to stay like this for a while, or do you want to try some grounding exercises?’

Izuku was aware enough to recognise that he wanted to escape this feeling as quickly as he could, but realistically, he knew that he needed a little longer.

‘F-few minutes.’

‘Okay.’ Shoto slowly got to his feet. ‘I’ll just be at my desk doing some paperwork. I'm not on-call, so take as much time as you need… unless there's suddenly a national emergency.’

On a normal day, Izuku would've laughed.

For the next half an hour, the office was quiet, if not for Shoto's fingers on the keyboard and the tropical storm playing from the speakers. Izuku, for the most part, clung onto the mindlessness—not wanting to acknowledge what had happened nor what was currently happening—but soon, his internal monologue started to resurface; it never liked being quiet for long.

He supposed he'd have to face everything sooner or later.

‘Shoto?’

His friend looked up from his computer, then locked the screen and approached him once more. He sat down in front of Izuku, crossing his legs and tucking his hair behind his ears.

‘You ready to do some grounding exercises?’ He waited for Izuku’s nod, before continuing. ��Okay, you probably know this one, but can you tell me five things you can see?’

He did know this exercise—he’d applied it to both himself and his students in the past—so the familiarity was comforting.

‘Y-you.’ He started with the obvious. ‘Bookcase… bonsai tree… computer… charred table.’

‘Good job, but don’t worry about the chabudai.’ Shoto’s cheeks darkened slightly. ‘Four things you can feel?’

Izuku had always been sensitive to touch, despite what his high pain tolerance might've implied, so he felt more confident with this one.

‘Stress ball, blanket, pillows… tatami.’

‘That was a lot quicker.’ Shoto furrowed his brow. ‘It’s good touch, right?’

‘Yeah.’ The corner of Izuku's lips quirked up for a moment in an attempt to be reassuring. 'Thank you.'

His friend nodded his head in acknowledgement.

'Three things you can hear?'

'Your voice.' He began, without giving it much thought. 'The rain noises… and my own voice.'

He was slowly starting to feel more like himself—his movements became fluid as he squeezed the stress ball, and his eyes were more focused than they had been. It wasn’t like being trapped in a bubble, it was more like a viscous liquid had been clouding his surroundings and was finally starting to evaporate.

'Two things you can smell?'

'Peppermint.' Courtesy of the teapot next to him. 'And you. The room smells like you.'

He desperately wished his filter would return before he could embarrass himself further. Luckily, Shoto didn’t seem to mind the comment.

‘That makes sense. After all, I’m the only one who works in this room.’ He paused for a few beats. 'Okay, last one: one thing you can taste? Don't worry if you can't think of anything. You've done really well.'

Usually, when Izuku was the one asking, he skipped that final sense. After all, most people would just reply with a confused “the inside of my mouth?”, but he supposed it was worth acknowledging.

'I…’ He paused as his taste buds identified iron. ‘I can… I can taste blood?'

Ignoring Shoto’s concerned look, Izuku poked his tongue around his mouth, until he found a freshly bitten wound. 'I must've started chewing the inside of my cheek at some point without realising… It happens a lot, I just don't usually register what I'm doing till after the damage is done, but it's nothing to worry about.'

His friend’s worry didn’t seem to dissipate upon hearing that, but after a few moments, he ultimately decided to let the issue slide.

‘That’s a conversation for another day.’ Izuku wasn’t sure which of them Shoto was promising that to. 'At least you're more vocal now. How do you feel?'

That was a loaded question. How was Izuku supposed to begin answering that?

Shoto seemed to read his thoughts. ‘That was a bad question. I’ll be more specific, what’s the first thing that comes to mind when I ask, “how do you feel”?’

‘Shit.’ Izuku snorted without mirth. However, that seemed to be the gateway for an elaboration. ‘I’ve never reacted this way before. It’s always been more erratic, not… yeah. I hated it. I couldn’t control my body.’

‘I can understand that.’ Shoto was earnest. ‘The first time it happened to me was during a training session with Endeavour when I was a child. The stress was too much, so my body shut down… only okaasan could get me out of it, but it took hours. I barely remember it, only that I was scared.’

‘That sounds awful.’ Izuku lowered his eyes.

‘Yeah, but my point isn’t to gain your sympathy, it’s to show that you’re not alone.’ Shoto paused. ‘You can talk to me… about anything.’

Izuku gnawed the inside of his cheek, before forcing himself to stop damaging the already wounded area.

He trusted Shoto—he really did—but he didn’t deserve to listen to Izuku’s turmoil; his friend had gone through so much worse that his own struggles paled in comparison. However, he remembered some of their earlier conversations, and how Shoto never flinched when he’d explained his failed dream of becoming a hero. He thought about all the times his friend had been open with him and accommodating when he spoke.

Izuku trusted Shoto… so maybe he should trust that he knew what he was signing up for.

‘I just… seeing him again after so long and with no warning.’ He began, trying to piece his words together. ‘I told myself to just get through the interaction, but I didn’t expect to spiral like this.’

‘I should’ve told you he was at the agency.’ Shoto pursed his lips, guilty. ‘It wasn’t scheduled in or anything, but when he showed up, I should’ve messaged you.’

‘It’s not your responsibility—you didn’t know I’d react that way. Plus, if I’m your friend then I guess I should’ve been prepared to run into him at some point.’ Izuku was quick to argue, but when he took a breath, he couldn’t help but sigh. ‘As you’re probably aware, we weren’t exactly best friends… Well, we used to be, before his quirk came in and I was diagnosed as quirkless.’

Shoto nodded deliberately, prompting Izuku to continue.

‘I used to follow him around a lot—he was familiar, and I didn’t really understand that I wasn’t wanted anymore—and soon, Kacchan started to make it more obvious that he didn’t want me around. He had a lot more friends—ones with cool quirks that would obey him—and I was… pushed around a lot.'

He intentionally omitted the specific details: verbal taunts and physical attacks. He didn't want to incriminate Kacchan more than he already had. After all, it was in the past now.

Izuku pressed his palms to his eyes. 'I just… I admired him so much—he had a great quirk and the bravery of a hero, and we both loved All Might—but… but I hated him.'

His voice turned into a whisper. 'I really did, and that somehow made everything worse because I really tried not to. Heroes aren’t meant to hate people… But I kept trying to placate him, hoping that he’d leave me be, but when it came to applying for high schools, I just couldn't simply make him happy.’

'He told you not to apply for UA, right?' Shoto asked, albeit it was obvious he knew the answer.

'Yeah.' Izuku replied anyway. 'Things got unbearable when I refused. The things he'd say, the things he'd do.' He swallowed thickly. 'It doesn't matter. When he got into UA and I didn't, that was it. Everyone laughed at me, because I never stood a chance in the first place. After we graduated, I never saw him again… until today.'

Ten years…

It had been so long, and as much as he tried to forget, he couldn't. He still had nightmares; he still flinched at loud, sharp noises; he still struggled with his self-worth.

He still had the scars.

His throat prickled, but he persevered, pulling back and staring at his hands instead of Shoto; he couldn’t bear to see his reaction just yet. 'He took me down that alley—I didn't want to, but I felt like I didn't have a choice—and I thought he was going to hurt me; follow through with one of his old threats- I shouldn't say that.'

He sighed, frustrated at himself. 'Anyway, instead… he apologised to me. Actually apologised. Like, it wasn’t a joke! I should've been happy. I should've forgiven him.'

Izuku dared not continue that sentence. Admitting it out loud would just solidify that he was a bad person.

'But you couldn't forgive him.'

Izuku broke.

For the first time today, tears built up, breaking the surface tension and running down his face without restraint. An accompanying sob escaped his lips and Izuku finally allowed himself to cry. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, like his reputation implied: he brought his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms to muffle his already quiet sounds—just like when he was little and tried not to draw attention to himself.

Part of his mind was screaming that even this was too much; he couldn't cry like this in front of anyone, not alone Todoroki Shoto. What would he think of him? How could Izuku show just how weak and pathetic he really was?

Yet those thoughts only led to more tears; more baggage to throw onto the already crushing pile.

He held his breath then, trying desperately to quell the crying, but it was futile. He only succeeded in making himself lightheaded and congested. His nose started to run and saliva built up in his mouth.

'I don't know how best to help you.' His friend admitted, just loud enough to be heard over Izuku's own thoughts. 'But I do know that it's okay to cry. I'm not judging you.'

How was he supposed to respond to that? Shoto was so kind; so understanding. He wasn't disgusted or disdainful.

But he should be….

'Would you-' Shoto hesitated. '-erm, like a hug… or something?'

Izuku's eyes immediately shot up to stare at him, exposing his gross face in all its glory.

'W-w-what?'

Shoto didn't seem put off by the snot and tears, albeit he did rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

'A hug, would you like one?' He clarified, confirming that Izuku had indeed heard him correctly. 'It's just… I'm not good with words, but I know physical contact can help alleviate pain. So I thought I'd offer.'

If this were a typical day, Izuku would turn bright red, stutter so much that he couldn't get his words out, and probably overthink to the point of exhaustion. However, this wasn't a typical day; while his face was blotchy and his mind was both overthinking and exhausted, he couldn't fathom his awkward crush right now.

In front of him was his friend—whom he adored in a way so unique—offering comfort, and Izuku was starving.

'Please.' He whispered, blinking as more tears stained his cheeks. He then wrapped his arms around his thighs and rested his forehead against his knees.

He could hear Shoto shuffle closer until they were side-by-side. After a moment, he shifted the blanket to accommodate them both, and slowly wrapped his arms around Izuku; one hand splayed out across his back, while the other reached around the front to cup the side of Izuku's head. Shoto then gently guided him to lean against his chest.

Izuku's entire body moved with him, putting all his weight against his friend, who willingly shouldered the burden with ease. In fact, he even rested his cheek atop his curls.

The relief was instantaneous: his body relaxed—basking in the positive touch—and a fresh sob escaped his lips. Shoto rubbed his shoulder with encouragement; repetitive, but soothing.

Izuku wasn't sure how much time they spent that way—quiet if not for his muffled sniffling—before his friend spoke again.

'I won't pretend to know what you've been through.' He murmured, each word careful. 'So feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I think, if you can't forgive him now, that's okay.'

Reactively, Izuku opened his mouth to counter, albeit Shoto beat him to it.

'And if you can't forgive him in a few months, a few years or never, that's okay too.'

Izuku's words died on his tongue and he swallowed heavily. It was like the entire concept was new: he never even considered a scenario where it was acceptable not to forgive Kacchan. After all, it was what the world preached—forgiveness was part of being a hero.

A sudden thought emerged.

'Have you forgiven Endeavour for everything?' He asked quietly. 'Not that you need to tell me.'

Shoto didn't answer straight away, contemplating the question first.

'No.' While the answer was firm, his tone sounded thoughtful. ‘And that’s okay too. It doesn't make me less of a hero.’

‘You don’t think you’re a bad person because of it?’ Izuku’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, almost jumping out of Shoto’s hold. ‘Not that I’m implying that you’re a bad person! You’re a very kind person and I think you’re amazing! Just… that was a pointless question.’

Shoto blinked once, lowering his arms.

‘He’s changed, which I accept and welcome, and we've moved on, but that doesn’t erase the past and the damage he's caused. I’ve forgiven myself, and that's enough for me.’ He scratched his cheek. ‘So, no. I don’t think I’m bad.’

Izuku nodded slowly. It made perfect sense—it was similar to his situation Kacchan—but convincing himself and rationalising his thoughts was still arduous.

‘I think I understand.’ He wiped away his tears, feeling more at ease. ‘Sorry for being like this.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ Shoto was adamant; unyielding. ‘I’m just glad I could help.’

His small smile ignited a fresh wave of emotion through Izuku—his usual flustered affection for Shoto returning in full force. Mentally, he kicked himself for pulling out of their hug sooner than necessary.

‘Y-you did. Thank you.’ He flashed his own wobbly smile. ‘You’re…’

Perfect, amazing, I think I’m fall-

‘A great friend.’ He finished, admiring Shoto’s reddening ears.

‘You too, Midoriya.’

Falling...

🔥🔥🔥

Me [1740]: Just fyi next time I see you I am going to personally ram my foot so far up your arse you’re shitting icicles for weeks

Bastard Gremlin [1742]: Fuck off Icyhot

Me [1743]: Like I knew you were an asshole but really?

Bastard Gremlin [1749]: Deku told you everything then

Me [1751]: Left out some finer details but yh

Me [1751]: Enough for me to piece together the rest

Bastard Gremlin [1752]: Why do you even care?

Bastard Gremlin [1752]: How do you even know him?

Me [1753]: He's my friend. That's all you need to know, so dont bother replying.

Shoto stared at the screen a moment longer. In truth, he wanted to say more, maybe even follow through with his initial message, but Midoriya would get upset, so Shoto reluctantly put his phone away. However, as soon as it was secured in his pocket, it buzzed again. Rolling his eyes, he took out the device, expecting a snarky retort.

Instead, he was met with a pleasant surprise.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1754]: Thank you for today, really

Me [1755]: You don't have to keep thanking me

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1756]: I know but I want to

Shoto's lips twitched with fond amusement.

'Texting Midoriya again?' Fuyumi commented dryly, not even looking up from the homework she was marking next to him. 'You're both insufferable.'

'You started it.'

Me [1758]: You can thank me by relaxing and going to bed at a normal time tonight

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1759]: I take it all back I hate u

Me [1759]: You love me 😇

Shoto paused then, cheeks heating up as he stared at his message. Why was he suddenly so warm? Why did anxiety pool in his stomach after he sent that message? Why was he getting more nervous the longer it took for a reply to come through?

He was just making friendly banter, like his old classmates taught him, yet it felt more significant when he was saying it to Midoriya.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1802]: I guesssssss 🙄

Shoto immediately felt himself relax; his stomach fluttering in a way that had started to become a common occurrence around his friend. He wasn’t sure if it was a bi-product of his quirk, now that he was using his fire more often, but it was strange that it was only when Midoriya was around.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1804]: Hey, I thought Id ask,you don’t have to or anything, but the HQA information session at the school is on tues and I was wondering, if you’re free, it’d be good to see you there? Even if you wore a disguise or something. Totally okay if not though!

Shoto tilted his head to the side, processing the message. He and Fuyumi had spoken about the session a lot over the past few weeks, but they'd given no indication that they wanted him there—why the change of heart?

'Fuyu-nee, Midoriya's inviting me to the HQA session.' He told his sister, not really sure what he was expecting her to say. 'Should I go?'

'I mean, you can if you want.' Fuyumi shrugged, albeit not dismissively. 'Whether it's supporting him or advocating your own knowledge, it might help. I certainly have no problem with it.'

Shoto nodded slowly in thanks, then turned back to his phone. He supposed in asking his sister, he was really just looking for validation, because of course, if Midoriya was inviting him to something, then he'd happily accept; he was just glad Fuyumi thought he was making the right choice.

Me [1807]: I'll be there :)

#tododeku #todoroki shoto #midoriya izuku #todoizu #izushou #todomido #dekutodo #midoriya sensei au #AgarJelly writes #teacher au #teacher midoriya izuku #quirkless midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #tw: self deprecation #tw: past bullying #tw: breakdown

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cow-stealin-gal · 7 months ago

Text

I have a List

📝

It’s titled;

Things that I would beat myself over

Breathing wrong around people

Inappropriate thoughts that are out of my control

looking at people wrong

Accidental rudeness

Beefing with my younger sisters

dropping something

something hurts so I must hurt myself on the spot to cure it

No reason

#tw: self harm #tw: self deprecation #Prev-> I think

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askzayneforeseerfrost · 7 months ago

Note

why aren’t I good enough?

Who said you're good enough?!

Is it, voices in your head said that? Well, if that so.. I reassuring you, you're enough, don't say anything depressing, you're enough..

The voices in your head just telling something bad, ignore it, you're enough and worth it, stop self deprecating yourself it's only makes you feel worse and worse.

You are enough, and you're worth to live, don't let your dark thoughts defeat you way easily like snowstorm.. you're more stronger than that.

After all... If anything happens I'm here for you, and you're not alone, you're free to tell me anything to make you feel better.

#lads zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #ask #lnds zayne #zayne #love and deepspace #zayne lnd #foreseer zayne #Tw: self deprecation

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giggly-squiggily · 3 days ago

Note

onagawa and masamune from backflip for the sentence starter event‼️‼️ (probs plantonic?)

pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

masamune tickles onagawa cuz he's being self deprecating ("why'd he [the ace - i cant remember his name, sorry] come to a school like ours?")

sorry if its not really how i should make requests cuz this is my first time 😭😭

AHHH BACKFLIP!!! I love it!!! Onagawa needing cheer up tickles? You got it anon! :D

CW: Self deprecation

“Man, why did Misato have to come to a school like ours?”

Masamune froze, feeling his eyebrows shoot up at the unusually snarky comment. “Onagawa?”

“He’s just so talented! Like- prodigy talented!” The blonde leaned in his hands a deep pout spreading over his lips as he watched the younger boy perform graceful tumbles and flips in the distance. “Meanwhile here I am making the same mistakes over and over, shaving off what could have been a perfect score. I bet if he applied for Shiro High, he’d do far better.” Tears welled up in Onagawa’s eyes, and he ducked his head lower to hide them. “He wouldn’t have a teammate like me preventing him from earning the first place spot.”

Oh. The captain felt his chest ping, any anger he felt shifting to sympathy as he took in his friend's words. Dropping to the floor beside him, he threw an arm around the other boy’s shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Don’t talk so poorly about yourself. You’re not holding anybody back from first place. We all have things we’re shaky on; and it’s those things as a collective that prevent us from reaching a perfect score. You’re doing amazing, and you keep getting better by the day. Don’t let a bad spot make you forget the rest of the good within you.”

Onagawa nodded, not trusting his voice. Masamune tsked softly as he rubbed his back, letting his hand slide towards his side.

“Aren’t you a Ma-chan fanatic? Shouldn’t you be smiling just as brightly as her?” He curled his fingers, smiling when the blonde shot up with a giggly gasp. “Come on- laugh!”

“Doohohn’t, Mahahhasamuuuhune! Ahehahaha, I dohoohn’t whhahant to lahuhuhgh!” Despite his complaints, the blonde was giggling like crazy, half fighting the hand latched onto his side as it tickled away. “Stahhahap, it tihihihickles!”

“Stop being such a hater towards yourself and I’ll let you go!” The redhead chided back, grinning from ear to ear as Onagawa fell into lap. “Yo- Tsukidate! Get over here and help me!”

“On it!” The gray haired teen called back, quickly closing the gap and joining the fray. Onagawa let out a pitiful squeal before dissolving into cackles. It was loud enough to draw attention from the remaining teammates.

“What’s happening with Onagawa-san?” Shotaro asked, wide eyed as he watched the three third years duke it out. “Should we help him?”

“I wouldn’t.” Misato shook his head, jumping some when Watari threw his arms around their shoulders.

“Third year business. Let them be.” He grinned, turning them both to the mats once more with the promise of showing them a cool handstand trick he picked up.

By the end of practice, Onagawa was back to his usual self, if not a bit tired.

Mission accomplished.

Send me a sentence starter and I'll write a dabble for you! :D

#Puffs #tickle #tickle dabble #backflip!!#sentence starters #onagawa nagayoshi #masamune shichigahama #Dorks being dorks #tw: self deprecation #some angst but mostly happy ending #no spoilers only fluff hehe

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alephnol · 1 year ago

Text

yo, umm…

You know that feeling where you remember something around a month or so ago and you feel sour about it again..?

Yeah. Im feeling that with the emotional blogs again.. why do the medics hate me so much..? Why do i fuck up friendships?

Ugh.. its like, i have so many friends, but it kinda hurts, ya know.

Worse is i cant.. i still feel shitty about it. Like, with tckhicken.. i dont know how i fucked up the tiny friendship we had so bad that she blocked me on two blogs..

I just seem to suck sometimes, idk…

Its not supposed to feel like a big deal, i was probably just annoying.. but it hurts still. Like a phantom pain i guess…

#everyone #rambles #vent post #small vent #sigh #tw: self deprecation #Mild confusion anger #Feeling sour..

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trashybandit · 2 years ago

Note

Hi my love I missed you 🥹 I hope that life is treating you well ❤️

Came to you with pervy thoughts of Pro Hero Shinsou teasing the shy lil barista that makes his morning (4pm) coffee. 🤲🏾

Comes in at the start of his shift every day to mess with you about stuttering his hero name or accidentally knocking over the sugar dispenser when your fingers brush. You’ve become apart of his routine so he’s sort of pissed when you’re not there when he comes in at his usual hour and think about how pissed he’d be when he finds out from your coworker that you took off for a date with some loser from your college. He may or may not have used his quirk to find out where the dickwad had taken you and decides to do a lil pop up 🙈🙉

I MEANT TO RESPOND SOONER BUT LIFE STARTED FIGHTING DIRTY SO I HAD TO STOP BEING A HORNY HOE AND GET MY SHIT TOGETHER SHBSHJS

Tagging your active blog because my dumbass didn't realized you changed blogs @darkmajesty-xo and @no-saints-around-here for beta-reading my nonsense~

TW: Noncon, yandere, choking, implied violence, humiliation, self-deprecation, mentions of drinking, and manipulation

Shinsou being your regular customer is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he’s one of the most loyal customers you’ve ever had the pleasure of having. Always on time, ordering the exact same drink, and knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it. He’s extremely popular with the cats and there is no denying that the sight of a kitten peacefully snoozing on his indigo locks was a miracle cure for exhaustion. The cons, however, were prominent. Shinsou knew exactly what he wanted, and one mild deviation would leave you drowning in embarrassment as he teased you into oblivion, each sentence digging slightly into your confidence yet making you feel stupid for letting a simple joke get to you like that. Despite all of that, having him swing by at your day’s end for a hot cup of coffee and cuddling cats to start his long day of work was something you looked forward to. With college and your part-time job taking up all your time, Shinsou somehow ended up becoming a friend of sorts. Sure, he wasn’t someone you’d call up when you’re completely wasted, incoherently babbling about your nonexistent love problems, but he was someone you’d anticipatedly wait for, making sure to save his favorite pastries and slightly worry when he didn’t show up on time.

Without even trying, Shinsou knew that he wormed his way into your heart and that filled him with pride. All it took was a smile and a couple sweet words, and he’d already clutched half of your heart firmly in his hand. Yet he wasn’t any better. You held a monopoly over his mind, intruding in the most inappropriate moments with contents that left him up at night contemplating new-found discoveries. But the half a heart of yours he proudly held a few moments ago was seemingly snatched, right under his own eyes.

Lazily leaning against the wooden counter, Shinsou followed your movements with his eyes, silently tracking the process of his drink whilst steeped in bitter anger. Words that threatened to crawl out of his throat held back by his rapidly thinning patience. Just a couple minutes earlier, you’d oh so kindly shattered the illusion that his presence brought you boundless joy. The sanctity of this routine with the borderline flirting over some coffee and cats as Shinsou’s brain fully awakened under the setting sun’s golden rays that illuminated your bustling form was tarnished in one fell swoop. Years of practice was the only thing preventing his facade of nonchalance from cracking, revealing the swirling fury hidden in his eyes, coiling beneath the surface, increasing the more you left the unsavory fact unaddressed. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you were torturing him with the possibility of a lover, letting the possibility hang in the air, sadistically watching him drive himself mad with the possibilities.

The nails digging harshly into Shinsou’s skin dragged him out of his spiraling thoughts in time to focus on your softly uttered words barely tickling his ears.

“I-I just…wanted to know-to ask…” your voice trailed alongside your confidence to start such a conversation. Taking a deep breath to soothe your nerves, you trudged on, ignoring the vague sense of wrongness enveloping the near empty store while hoping that the upcoming embarrassment was worth the advice you hoped to gain.

“Ask what?” drawled the indigo-haired male, eyes firmly locked onto your own.

His gaze felt off by miles, much more suffocating than physically possible like those purple eyes of his that threatened to drag you into the chaotic mess that was his mind. There was no stopping the primal fear from washing over you, freezing you mid-stir, unable to break the petrifying eye contact, blood pounding in your ears as your brain hyperfocused on pro-hero as if it’d improve your chances of surviving.

And then he blinked.

It was like the figurative mountain of your chest disappeared in an instant as if you hallucinated the entire encounter. What was seconds before a hauntingly blank expression was replaced with a languid smile, amused eyes observing your still frozen form, one that signaled lighthearted teasing that’d leave you punching your pillow at night. But even after months of being treated with a variety of Shinsou’s smiles, it was the first time you saw such a preformative, slightly stiff, smile that dared you to think about the situation further.

“D-did you want any su-sugar?”

As the day progressed, the entire incident faded to the back of your mind as menial tasks took up your thoughts. You’d brushed it off as Shinsou having a bad day and tried to ignore the lingering fear still hanging over you, instead pouring your energy into finishing up your work for the day. Tactfully avoiding irritating the pro-hero further, the potential of conversation died quickly as an oppressive air fell over the empty shop. Clinks of cups and running water were the only noises reverberating around the room with the occasional harsh squeaking of sneakers. The silence felt foreign, unwelcomed in its intrusion on to the formerly harmonious atmosphere, but neither you nor Shinsou had the heart to fix it. Unlike usual, Shinsou remained in his little crook next to the window instead of disappearing to fight crime after thirty minutes of lovingly tormenting you, opting to softly hum goodbye at your departing form as he rubbed the cat curled up in his lap.

The gentle jingle of the bell signaling your departure was his cue to launch his hastily formed plan. Long legs strided towards the counter once again, cup loosely clutched in hand, ready to seek some answers via questionable methods.

The victim of Shinsou’s pent-up anger was your unassuming colleague, a reserved woman in her late twenties. Shinsou had seen her around the place and you two seemed to have an amicable relationship if she was willing to take up a portion of your shift. Surely she must know why, more importantly who, you rushed off to meet.

The light tap of the ceramic cup against the wooden counter opened the ill-founded encounter. Not a second was wasted getting to the point with Shinsou posing as a concerned friend of yours. Using his quirk here would be a bit too risky, best to use it as little as possible. Can’t have him leave traces before he even began.

"Who is she meeting?"

"Don't know."

With annoyance tainting the crafted concern dripping from each syllable, he continued, “Where did she go?”

“I can’t seem to remember at the moment…”

Ah, so she was that type.

Freeing a wad of cash from his wallet and sliding it across the counter awarded Shinsou the address to a popular rooftop bar and he was just itching to have an extremely civil conversation with your date.

The cool night air whipped your skin, but you didn’t care as you smiled goofily at the man across you. For your crush to ask you out of nowhere was nothing short of a dream come true, leaving you walking on air. A soft giggle escaped as he sauntered off to get more drinks, all in that effortlessly charismatic manner of his, promising to return in a second.

It became increasingly apparent that your definitions of a second were wildly different. It had to have been twenty minutes ever since he left and you were starting to get worried. Combined with the constant sight of lovey-dovey couples around you and the ever-persistent feeling of being judged after the apparent stand-up, it all made you want to crawl into your shadow and brood in peace. You could practically hear their thoughts oozing of pity and superiority as they seamlessly wandered down the 'at least I'm not her' avenues as they snuggled closer to their very much present dates. A familiar creeping sense of embarrassment and humiliation lead to burning tears threatening to spill from your eyes, but you couldn’t cry here, that’d just prove their point. That you were some unloveable bitch dumped the millisecond her date could escape, some quirkless idiot who thought she had a chance with one of the campus beauties, that…that…

A wet drop on a clenched fist dragged you from the murky thoughts signaling yet another failure.

You were just useless, weren’t you? Ever since you somehow, against all the odds, managed to get admitted into a prestigious university, a nice job, and even a date with one of the hottest guys on campus, you really thought you were hot shit, but you couldn’t hide your true nature any longer. If he could see it, it wouldn’t be long before others saw how utterly pathetic you truly were.

The idea of licking your wounds in an extremely public place forced you to pull yourself together and find a setting more appropriate for ugly crying that didn’t carry the threat of drunkards humping like mutts in heat each other intruding. Yet, the routine walk of shame to settle the bill (just in case, if he was an ass to leave you mid-date, who knows if he actually paid anything), you bumped into an unexpected figure. A lean back, snatched waist, and an ass so fine, you’d recognize it anywhere, but the vibrant luxurious purple hair was a dead giveaway anyways, it was Hitoshi Shinsou in all of his sleep-deprived glory.

Being blessed with the sight of a hot man illuminated by the dim string lights, pink tongue seductively licking his lips as his sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a predator hungry for their next meal, was enough to make you stop in your tracks and just stare at him. Questions like why was he here, who was he looking for, among others were a welcome respite from your personal ongoing pity party.

If the lights were a tad brighter, you’d notice the return of that eerie stare of his. How his eyes drank in the sight of you like his survival was dependent on it. The humble wisps of patience preventing Shinsou from enacting his depraved fantasies were reduced to strands, and your watery eyes staring at him blankly, plump lips gasping his name in confusion spelling the end of his amiable demeanor.

Taking you back to his apartment was criminally easy even without his quirk as you babbled about the disastrous night you had. If it wasn’t him guiding you into his trap tonight, it would’ve been your date, and that wasn’t a possibility he enjoyed thinking about. You were truly helpless without him, weren’t you?

You were flopped on Shinsou’s extremely soft bed, completely delirious from the extended heartfelt sobfest and copious amounts of alcohol. If you were a bit more clear-headed, you’d be questioning why you were here, but the crisp water he brought you washed away any inkling of such thoughts whilst parching your dry throat. The warm hand rubbing circling on your back slowly was rather soothing, so much so that you didn’t notice how close Shinsou was pressing against you.

“Do you feel better now?” Shinsou softly questioned, leaning closer to get a better look at you.

“..Mhm.”

“Just forget about him, alright? He was a piece of shit anyways.”

“Yeah…”

You avoided looking at him directly, the guilt for feeling ungrateful for still being affected despite Shinsou’s best efforts gnawed at you from the inside. Yet, he never stopped comforting you in silence, never pressing you to immediately feel better.

Oh, what would you do if you could hear Shinsou’s thoughts? How much he wishes you to remain all pliant as his hands as he felt you up, to remain indebted to him until you cave into his demands, to wrap you tightly in his webs of (mostly) white lies till you couldn’t escape. Gently tilting your head up, he wiped the tears slowly accumulating carefully, silently lamenting how entrancing you looked because of some scum. If only you’d cry because of him, preferably from pleasure, but pain could be delightful as well.

He could find out right now.

It’d be easy to convince you that this is what you wanted, that you confessed your feelings to him all night long. From there, it’d be all smooth sailing, but if there were some…hiccups, he could just use quirk to enact some confinement play. Surely, no one would care much for some quirkless woman, forget even suspecting him. If it ever came to that, Shinsou was sure he could make it work.

Blurry as your vision was, the change in demeanor didn’t escape you. Even if your intoxicated mind couldn't process what exactly was off, your body was already responding to the encroaching threat. Goosebumps covered your skin as shivers spontaneously wracked your body and you instinctively started to curl into yourself, eliciting a disconcerting laugh from Shinsou.

“Why are you hiding?” he cooed while peering for some opening in your form, “Are you…scared?”

There was not much of a response, but he didn’t mind. You’d have a lot of time to do so later anyways.

“Come on, now. You don’t need to ignore me like this.”

Shinsou’s arms further caged you in as he encroached further onto your personal space. You could feel his hot breath invasively brushing against your skin. He maintained this intrusive position for far too long, each puff seemingly stripping all your defenses and laying you bare for his pleasure.

“...Pl-please-” you began, before being unceremoniously cut off.

“Please what?”

“Get…off-”

You were acutely aware of your mistake as soon as you responded. A heavy blanket fell down upon your already hindered thoughts and you felt oddly disconnected from your body. Everything felt sharply dull, until the first order came in.

Focus on me.

Wherever thin, calloused hands touched, you could feel every slight action. The amount of pressure, direction, and even the scars on his palms were the only thing that registered in your brain. It was far from painful, but the amount of pleasure still elicited fear. Even processing how your trust was betrayed, bastardized in a moment of weakness, was impossible with how heightened your senses were. You were forced to listen to Shinsou’s disgusting confessions of how long he’d been dying to do this to you, what he planned to do, and even condescendingly praising you. His hands had long stripped you down to your undergarments and had transitioned to gently cupping your breasts while making snide comments along the lines of them being cuter than he imagined and daring you to guess how many people had imagined doing this to you.

“I bet you wanted that cumstain to do this to you, huh? You wanted him to touch you with hands that jacked off to the thought of defiling you every night, right? You wanted him to kiss you with the mouth that has kissed thousands before you? Did you really think you were special?”

“Did you think he actually loved you?”

Each word magnified every insecurity that had reared their ugly heads earlier in the evening. Hearing it from that magnetizing voice that you heard everyday with such certainty could only mean they were true. If you’d only be able to think about it more, you could debunk such claims, be offended, and kick him in the balls before reporting him, but alas you couldn’t do any of that, just wallow in miserable thoughts.

The tirade of insults continued as his hands undid your bra and lazily played with your nipples before shifting to suck them. For a moment, you were happy that he just shut up until the feeling of a wet muscle flicking back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace combined with the soft flicks on the other nipple registered. It didn’t help his other hand had snaked down to your underwear, casually busying itself with outlining your clit. He continued the onslaught for what felt for hours with each rub, flick, and suck fueled by long-held lust and determination to make you cry from either pleasure or despair.

With a wet pop, Shinsou released your nipple from his mouth to turn his attention to those lips of yours. That disgusting tongue of his wormed its way into your mouth, dragging your leaded tongue to play along. Your lips were sucked until they were swollen, kissed until you were both breathless and saliva was dripping down your frozen chin. The sight of him licking it before transitioning to softly kissing your neck like a diligent lover felt fundamentally wrong with all the night’s revelations.

Not that your discomfort mattered to him anyways.

A long finger slipped inside of you without much warning, curling and twisting as it prepared you for something much larger. The urge to abandon his efforts of reducing any pain gnawed at Shinsou, but the image of you finally snapping out of his brainwashing as he finally becomes one with you, only capable of moaning out his name and begging him to stop. So, another finger went in before scissoring your little pussy, enjoying how your gummy walls squeezed against his digits. After savoring the sensation for a couple of minutes, Shinsou reluctantly removed his digits from your warm insides, only to shove his leaking cock into you with one, powerful thrust.

The brainwashing plaguing your mind suddenly vanished as a wave of pain washed over you. You could feel yourself being stretched out at an inhuman pace, yet unable to do anything but garbled shrieks and sobs.

“God…you’re so…t-tight. You really wanted me, huh?” Shinsou practically growled. “You’re practically…drooling all over me,” he huffed.

He pressed you down, further driving his dick deeper inside of you, as he licked your ear lobe, whispering in that husky, out of breath voice of his that you wanted him. Why else do your hips chase after him? Why else are those delightful moans tumbling out of your mouth? Why did your greedy cunt accept him so easily?

“Admit it, you want me.”

Those moans of yours were not enough for Shinsou. He needed to hear actual words of affirmations, to force a confession out of you that’ll become a reality after a couple rounds of brainwashing. He wanted to break you. Destroy that naive girl who was desperate for validations until she was unrecognizable, then build her back up piece by piece as his obedient kitten who was dependent solely on him. The more resistance you put up, the sweeter the result and the process, if he was being honest, would be.

The longer you withheld the confessions, the harsher his thrusts, grip, and words became. Until, Shinsou stopped. He let your body flop to the bed like a discarded toy, ignoring your yelps of pain, before wrapping his fingers around your throat.

Such a fragile little thing that controlled your life and with a bit too much pressure, you’d be left scrambling for air as your vision blurred and lungs burned. And you met his expectations to a T. Gurgles of fear and shock escaping your moist bruised lips as you tried to claw his hand off, all with tears forming in your eyes from this simple action.

“I won’t repeat myself, say you want me,” Shinsou threatened with eyes lowered with plans of unspeakable horrors if you continued defying him and voice tinted with slight desperation akin to a man trying to convince himself this didn’t matter.

Ringing served as the backdrop to his threat as the edges of your sight started fading to black. Thoughts of survival filled your mind with death seeming to be a few minutes away. Attempts at bucking your hips and pushing him off yielded nothing but a tighter grip on your neck. There was only one thing you could do:

“I-ugh-...wanT y-you.”

Even before you could relieve your oxygen-deprived self, your breath was snatched once again. The soft kisses from earlier seemed to be an illusion as Shinsou bit your lips,grazed his tongue over the wounds he created, and left trails of hickies and full-on bites across your skin.

You said it yourself, you wanted him. It didn’t matter to him that he’d coerced it out of you, it came out of your mouth.

What kind of boyfriend would he be if he left you unattended?

#unique[💛]#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere shinsou hitoshi x reader #tw: yandere #tw: manipulation #tw: self deprecation #tw: choking #tw: implied violence #tw: noncon #tw: humiliation #tw: mentions of drinking

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