#at the moment i just really badly want to try like acid or something just to see what'll happen. nothing good but that's still a success

[bitegore]

Possibly if i am this often "at my limit" it is not in fact a limit at all and i need to come up with a new word for it.

[evanbuckleykinnie]

Buck was fairly certain he was dying.

Not in a choking on bread, crushed by a ladder truck, struck by lightning sort of way but in an incredibly mundane one.

His stomach hurt.

It hurt a lot, actually. So badly he could barely make himself move. He was hot, cold, sweaty, shivering. Every part of him felt wrong, something tingling weirdly in his forearms and his joints aching. He was dying. And where was Eddie?

"I told you, Evan."

Buck groaned, pressing his face into the damp pillow beneath him. He'd been hearing this over and over again for the better part of ten minutes now. It wasn't like Eddie was wrong or like he had any particular reason to be being all that helpful, but Buck wished he'd at least sit down for a moment. Footsteps, slow and pacing, were rhythmically driving the acidic nausea feeling up from his stomach and into his chest. Any longer and he'd be forced up and into the bathroom, face half submerged in the toilet as he puked up his guts.

"You're lactose intolerant. You say you're not, but you are. I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you're gonna have to give up on the damn cheese and milk." There was a certain type of amusement in Eddie's voice that, quite frankly, Buck found insulting. He was in the middle of a medical emergency. A crisis, really. "You did this to yourself, man. I told you not to eat that pizza."

Buck couldn't do much but grumble into his pillow, something unintelligible but definitely not polite. Eddie had, in all fairness, told him not to eat the pizza. He'd watched Buck take a bite out of the slice of cheesy goodness with a look on his face he only wore on calls involving ridiculous self-inflicted injuries. Buck should have known he'd get no sympathy as wide, brown eyes glared daggers into his skull. The smugness he'd smiled at Eddie with two hours ago was no more than a horrible display of hubris now.

Buck hadn't been lactose intolerant when he was a child. He hadn't known anyone in the Buckley family who was lactose intolerant. There was absolutely no reason for him, now in his early thirties, to suddenly develop it. No hereditary reason, anyway. Besides, Maddie had never said anything about being unable to enjoy cheese and ice cream and milkshakes. Why would he be the one to get the faulty genetics?

In reality, Buck knew he was in denial. He knew for a fact that lactose intolerance could strike at any time, at any age. All it took was a bad enough injury to the small intestine and his ability to make the lactase enzyme would be sufficiently decreased enough to land him right where he was. With his track record of injuries and near death experiences, he had no doubts it was possible something had been knocked off kilter inside him, as much as he wanted to deny it. After all, what was life without cheese and ice cream?

"Could you shut up?" Buck finally managed to groan out, voice muffled by his pillow and strained by the effort it took to speak around how sick he felt. Really, though, he was going to be fine. It wasn't intense. It wasn't life-threatening. It just sucked. Big time. "Are you staying just- just to get in the 'I told you so's?"

There's silence from behind him for a few moments before his bed dips, a warm hand resting against his bicep. He doesn't uncurl himself from his fetal position to glance back at Eddie but he hums a quiet acknowledgement of their sudden close proximity. Despite how sick he feels, and how frustrated he is, it's nice to not be alone in it. Even if he knows Eddie has more complaining to do, though he senses that it's been tabled for a later date. Despite his fatherly disposition of lecturing, Eddie always knows when to stop. Thankfully.

"No. I'm staying to make sure you don't make yourself worse by trying to walk this off." Eddie's voice took on the tone it rarely held for anyone but Buck, soft and tender and so very fond in a way Buck couldn't quite wrap his head around. "You'll be fine. But we're looking into lactase tablets or something when you're better."

Two days later, after the whole ordeal passes, Buck ascends the stairs in the firehouse to the smell of something wonderful cooking. Not a rare thing to experience but, as he reaches the table where everyone is sat expectantly, he finds himself faced with two objects. Chim has a grin on his face like he's attempting to audition for the role of the Cheshire Cat, while Hen is snickering to herself quietly at the confused look Buck shoots the items. A hand claps him on the back from behind.

"We thought we'd get you a few things." Eddie says as he walks past, sitting himself down, gesturing towards the items on the table.

With a look of unimpressed indignation, Buck reaches out to pick up the shirt, reading the plainly written words on the otherwise completely blank fabric.

"Tummy Ache Survivor."

He drops the shirt back onto the table, Bobby walking over to place a plate down at the empty seat meant for him. Whatever he's made looks good. Bobby taps the other object, smile knowing and amused.

"Thought we'd start using this. I've got a copy here, this is for home." Bobby makes his way back to the pan he'd left to join the fun.

Buck finally picks up the book, turning it over in his hands. A cookbook full of vegan recipes. Despite his annoyance at the teasing, the corner of his mouth pulls up into a small smile, a laugh leaving him despite his attempts to remain somewhat frustrated looking. Even with all of the teasing, the small gesture feels kind. Warm.

"Very funny.." He sits, placing the cookbook down as everyone else gets their own food. He takes a bite, humming happily as he opens up the book to flip through the first few pages.

Maybe being lactose intolerant wasn't so humiliating after all.

[vampiricmycelium]

Day #4 of @redscapeweek || Sharing Clothes || T

-

Scar was trying not to stare, but he was failing. Badly. He had been spending time with Mumbo today, and he might have accidentally pushed Mumbo into a river. It really was an accident! He didn't have the best balance, and Mumbo was right next to it. So he couldn't be held responsible for it.

Mumbo had let out a cry before there was the sound of a splash and there he was. On all fours in the middle of the river. Luckily, it wasn't that deep, so there was no risk of Mumbo drowning. Scar did help him back out of it, but he had spent maybe a couple of minutes just staring at Mumbo's ass. It was right there! If Mumbo had noticed his gaze, he didn't say anything, too focus on his state. He was looking down at his soaked through suit, his mustache looking sad as it drooped.

"Scar, why?" It was almost funny, but Scar managed to find some restraint. He covered his mouth so Mumbo didn't see him smiling.

"I didn't mean to. I promise."

"Hm." He didn't seem to believe him. Scar made an offended face, gasping as if he couldn't believe it. Mumbo sighed, but there was a small smile creeping onto his face. "Fine. But you're going to have to loan me some dry clothes."

"What? Why?"

"Your place is closer."

Scar looked over at their two bases in the distance. He wasn't entirely sure if that was correct, but he also wasn't sure if it was wrong. He was willing to give Mumbo the benefit of the doubt. This was kind of his fault and he wanted to do something for his friend. They took off together into the sky, landing down in Scarland. Scar gestured for Mumbo to follow him into a building.

Once inside a room in a corner of the park, Scar started digging through some chests. He glanced back at Mumbo, eyes going wide as he seemed to be undressing. He had his jacket off and his tie as well. The white dress shirt was soaked enough that it left little to the imagination. Scar cleared his throat, grabbing some random clothes of his and pushed them at Mumbo.

"You can change over there." He gestured to a side room. Mumbo nodded and headed over there. It might have been Scar's imagination, but he seemed to be a little red in the face. Scar watched him for just a moment.

There was something wrong with him. He couldn't stop staring at Mumbo and thinking, well, non-friend type thoughts. He could almost feel himself thinking of Mumbo stripping out of his clothes and changing into the ones he was offered. Luckily, Scar managed to stop blushing before Mumbo returned.

Or, well, he thought he had. But the sight before him was just too distracting and, well, hot.

Mumbo stood there in a collage of Scar's clothes. He was wearing a HotGuy's shirt underneath one of Scar's brown leather jackets. His pants seemed to be the acid-washed jeans from his Limited Life skin. He wore just plain black socks, the only thing that didn't stick out as something of Scar's. It was a mismatch, but Mumbo seemed to pull it off. He was nervously pulling at the jacket and frowning.

"I think I should worry about you stealing my title of HotGuy." Mumbo's face turned bright red, nearly sputtering a response of how that was not possible at all. Scar grinned, enjoying seeing him flustered. "No, I mean it. I wasn't sure if you'd fit into my clothes, but the way the shirt hangs on you loosely. It's attractive."

"Scar."

Scar drew closer. "And those jeans? I bet if the shirt wasn't so long, I could see your hips. How scandalous."

"Scar?"

"I think you should keep them. I am sure I'm not alone. You don't think you're hot?"

Mumbo fidgeted with the ends of the shirt and then turned his face away, still the bright red from before. Maybe he should push Mumbo into a river more often.

"I'm not as hot as you. I mean I haven't seen you in one of my suits, so maybe if I did you. I don't know what I'm saying."

"Should I try one of them on? We could dress like each other today!"

"I'm not sure if they'd fit. Your, um, muscles might be too much."

"Well," Scar replied, finally in front of his friend, smiling up at him. This was not how he expected this to go, but he was willing to see what happened. He grabbed Mumbo by the jacket, pulling him closer. "There's only one way to find out."

[joycew-blog]

I have so many thoughts about the finale!!! First off, I am so happy that Rick regressed!!! It's of course terrible for Morty and the rest of the family, but it feels way more realistic and interesting. The path to recovery is hard and will have roadblocks. You can't fix decades of bad habits in just a couple of episodes.

That doesn't mean that Rick hasn't been trying tho! Him helping Jerry with the Fortune Cookies, the whole Roy thing, Analyze Piss, that was still the real Rick! He still went to therapy, he did genuinely try.

But Morty being mad at him just triggers things in him that makes him go back in his old ways. It was a less bad reaction than in the past, cause last time Morty called him out on his crap Rick decided to replace him with two crows and before that we got the Vat of Acid episode (there might be more, but esp the Vat is so vivid in my mind of the bad crap he did to that poor kid). He wouldn't have made a robot that's actually kind to Morty and have him have a good time. In that sense I guess Rick knows his limitations, that he can't make Morty happy right now as he is.

But instead of discussing that with him and being emotionally open about it, he goes behind their back and replaces himself with a robot so he betrays their trust....again! (Cause he probably thinks it's better if he's not around while he's like this, but at the same time he's proving the point that it's better he's not around by putting out a robot that's 'better' than him. It's a self-fulling prophecy and he does this all the time.)

As for Morty, someone, anyone, please give this poor kid a hug! He just wanted a nice Christmas for himself and his family. He never gets a break and when he does it's just too good to be true!

I think when he broke down in front of the President it was more than just Christmas being ruined. His trust was betrayed, again, and the things he enjoyed the past episode probably now leave a bitter taste in his mouth since it was not his real grandpa. He probably thought at that moment that Rick would rather build a robot to be nice to him, instead of putting in the effort himself...

And then of course Curtis drives the knife even deeper by betraying Morty afterwards...

And Robot Rick! He was so kind and he tried so hard. I felt for him so much with how he felt so guilty about betraying the family's trust. And him trying to be honest about it made my stomach twist cause I knew it would just go badly...

And when it did go bad the family immediately went out to destroy him. They must be really traumatized from the robots and clones and the crap Rick has pulled them through with it…

Seriously Robot Rick was the final hero in this episode and I wished he didn't die...

And god the final couple of minutes...

They are going on adventures again, but dang the reason for it will be so different! For Morty the most, cause what will happen if they find Prime? And what does Rick mean he is on all the location that were pointed on his map?! Like, he's on all of them at the same time, or are those places he has been/has mini-homebases?

And the classic Rick ramble at the end. Normally they are done for comedy purposes, but in this scene it just felt....dark and sad. This is what Rick really is, an obsessed, traumatized person wanting to find the guy that killed his family. It broke him down to his core, the search for him even more so than the killing of his family. Even years later he still can't let it rest!

And now he's dragging his grandson along him with it...

--

This episode is the exact reason I love this show. Just when I think I lose a bit of interest they do something that's made me hyped up all over again!

I really am hyped and curious to find out what they are going to do for season 7!

[ninjastormhawkkat]

The Real Steven Boxleitner - Part 2

"It started with a man named Professor Carl Woods. He was a brilliant geneticist and biologist. He wanted to accomplish so much in life, but the most important thing he wanted to do was to leave a legacy that can enjoy his accomplishments when he passed. Someone he wanted to bond with, he wanted an heir. I don't know why he didn't get married or adopted a child, but Professor Woods wanted to create a child of his own from his own DNA. So he created his child, a clone of sorts but it had genetic makeup from other people so it didn't look exactly like him but had similar physical features to the man. Professor Carl Woods had a home near the college where he worked so everyday he took his child to the labs to monitor his health and educate him there and every night snuck him home to sleep. He took care of the clone and treated him as his own. He also kept the clone a secret for fear of greedy investors and other scientist treating him like a science experiment, or fear for himself for getting arrested for his actions."

"But why."

"Becky this was the 70s and 80s. Cloning was new and science with genetics wasn't always...a legal practice back then as it is now. But unfortunately for most people, the more illegal something is, the more popular and desired it becomes. So anyway, some years later, Professor Carl Woods hired on an assistant, a college student who was majoring in science, to work with the professor on his public experiments. The clone, which the professor called Gene, got curious about the assistant and ran into him one day. The assistant was surprised by this man who he never seen before who called himself Gene Woods. Of course when Professor Carl Woods found out he was upset with the clone and just about threatened the assistant to keep quiet. The clone then asked the professor to let him keep his friend with him. Well Carl Woods was astounded that it was the first time he heard Gene call anyone friend and realized he never really got a chance to let his son socialize with others even though he was trying to protect him. So he finally let Gene and his assistants hang out in the labs when the assistant was on break and they wound up becoming the best of friends. The assistant taught Gene about the outside world that his dad promised to introduce him too when he was in his 20s and was ready to live out there without drawing attention. They did normal stuff and Gene had moments where he forgot he wasn't a normal human. Sadly things change. One day government officials barged into the lab. One man offered to buy Gene from Professor Carl Woods for a significant amount of money to give them Gene and for the scientist to work for them creating more clones like Gene."

"Why were they so interested in Gene?"

"What Professor Carl Woods did not realize until sometime later after creating Gene was that Gene had unique adaptability skills. Woods could have spliced his son's DNA with other non human DNA and Gene could continue on living a full life while adapting to his new traits. These skills also meant that Gene could get hurt badly but would not suffer the same results as most people. Now Professor Carl Woods of course refused to do so and demanded that they leave his lab this instant. A few lackeys of the government official and some armed men soon attacked the professor and dragged him away while he was bruised and beaten up. The assistant then tossed some flammable chemicals together and started a fire which caused a distraction which allowed the assistant to take Gene and tried to escape. While they were running, one of those armed men ended up trying to shoot at Gene, the assistant jumped in the way to save Gene's life and splashed hydrochloric acid from a beaker on the shooter's face. Gene was horrified and shocked what happened to his friend and tried to save him. His friend told Gene to save himself. That bullet hit a vital artery apparently and there was no way the assistant would have survived in time. So sobbing and with a heavy heart, Gene escaped the lab through an old passage way Gene showed him that was once used for distributing alcohol through prohibition in the 1920s to the 1930s. Gene got outside and was only a few yards away when the lab exploded in a blaze possibly due to hitting some flammable gas tanks. Gene never saw those government agents again. He never saw his father or his first real friend ever again as well."

Dr. Two Brains paused, trying to hold back tears after telling this story to his daughter. A tale he wished he didn't have to relive again. Becky stared at her father with shock and horror and grief at that tragedy. She started to gather clues from that tale. "So that assistant was.." Becky began to hesitantly ask. Dr. Two Brains nodded solemnly. "He was the real Steven Andrew Boxleitner. I was the clone. I was Gene Woods."

Becky just stared at her dad, emotions flooding her mind and face. She now had more questions. Why did her dad choose that Steven's name to take? Why did he abandon it after becoming Dr. Two Brains?"

As if reading his child's mind, Dr. Two Brains continued to tell her the rest of the truth.

(available in part 3)

@drtwobrainsstuff

@melodythebunny

[kemakoshume]

Equal Exchange ❀ — aki x angel (csm) pt. 2/2

Concept: Sex worker Angel Devil; frequent patron and full-time devil hunter Aki Hayakawa. Angel “I do not dream of labor” Devil makes money for "easy" work by entertaining human desires for cash. Aki finds solace in Angel’s embrace.

aka: an AU where Aki’s coping mechanisms are slightly more maladaptive, and Angel isn’t a devil hunter.

Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Arguing, Angst & Smut, Hurt/comfort, Survivors Guilt, Healing, Semi-public sex, Actual Public Sex.

tw: pistachio ice cream & denji being the voice of reason

a/n: I tried to keep explicit spoilers to a minimum, but there is (1) pretty major spoiler from the Katana Man arc, so anime-onlys… beware. This ch starts off with a pretty intense argument, but things get better.

rough vision board/mood board: here; also on ao3 (this just hit 100 kudos there, yay) ~ [part one (7k words); part two (8k words)] enjoy! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Six months after Aki met Angel, something happened to Aki that was very bad.

He never really told Angel all of the details, not even now, but from what he did tell the devil, Angel could tell the event had been capital-B bad. Nearly an entire division of the Public Safety Devil Hunters was gone; more blood spilled and lives lost than Aki could have ever begun to summarize, and the devil hunter was spiraling. It happened so fast, so out of left field, that Angel obviously didn’t know what to do. Aki knew he had no real context to understand, and he was cruel anyway.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, Taiyo,” Angel said, trailing behind Aki as he went down to the basement two steps at a time.

Angel panted as he followed, Aki’s height a welcome advantage as the devil fell behind. Aki couldn’t stand hearing his brother's name at that moment. It was another reminder, another dig of the knife in the wound that he’d allowed to grow—to carve him hollow and make room for more pain he didn’t know how to cope with. He felt sick. He wanted to answer Angel, to explain and stop that look from being etched into the devil’s face, but he couldn’t. Not when the devil kept saying a name that wasn’t his with that tone of concern. Not when the name was of a loved one he had lost. Not when all he wanted was to not feel anything.

“Taiyo,” Angel called again, looking around the boxes housed in the basement. He found Aki sooner than later, running over to stand in front of the devil hunter. “Taiyo. You… what’s wrong?”

Aki huffed, trying and failing to keep his breath steady before the dam burst.

“That’s not my fucking name!” Aki yelled, grabbing Angel by the sleeves of his shirt. The tremble in his hands shook the devil, and his expression must have been miserable if Angel’s reflecting back at him was any indication. Aki walked forward, crowding into the smaller man’s space as he pushed him against one of the many sticker-covered walls. He slapped his hand against the wall next to Angel’s head, his voice thick as he fought to say the words that had been lodged in his chest for weeks. “It’s Aki. My name is Aki. Don’t… don’t call me Taiyo anymore. It’s not my name.”

Angel looked at him with an expression that Aki couldn’t decipher, his body rigid and his halo dim before he relaxed, just enough to get out his words. Aki knew the devil could hurt him—kill him, even—if he was scared, and part of him deflated when the devil didn’t do anything to push him away.

“Well, hello, Aki. It’s a nice name. It suits you.” Angel’s face softened, though his body was still stiff as he covered his hand with his sleeve to touch Aki’s face.

Aki wanted so badly to melt into it, to enjoy Angel’s touch, but he couldn’t. The guilt crept up his throat like acid after a heavy meal, and he couldn’t help the venom that came out of his mouth as a result. He huffed out a laugh, dry and vacant in the middle where sincerity should be as he stared at the devil.

“Fuckin’ devil complimenting my name. A devil I’ve been basically fucking; using my dead brother’s name. Why are you pretending to care? Devils don’t care,” Aki said, roughly rubbing his hands down his face as he paced. “What the fuck am I doing? Why the fuck am I—you! What the fuck are you doing to me, huh? You, Denji, Power, and all the other devils that have wormed their sick, fucked up little hands into my life.”

He stomped toward Angel, pressing closer to the devil until his back was against the wall. Angel lowered his head, though his fists were clenched at his sides. Angel felt his resolve crumble as Angel looked up at him with nothing, not even anger, in his eyes. He just saw hurt. He was the one hurting the devil, not the other way around.

“I,” Aki said, tripping over his words. “Angel, I just need to feel anything else. Anything else, please? Help me. Touch me and tell me if I deserve to be here or not. I don’t think I deserve it. I don’t deserve to be here when they aren’t. I don’t deserve to be here when everyone else is already gone. I can’t do this alone.”

Angel shushed him, letting the man cage him in, careful not to let him touch when the tears began to run down the devil hunter’s cheeks.

“You aren’t alone, Aki,” Angel said, his voice thick as he dried Aki’s tears. “I’m sorry for your loss, but you know this won’t help. You know it.”

After the tears slowed, Aki looked down at Angel, angry and heartbroken and so—so—frustrated, and he leaned in to kiss him. Angel moved, slipping away from the devil hunter before he could trap him against the wall with his body. Angel knew well what Aki intended to do; he could see it in his face, in the dimness of his sapphire-blue eyes.

“No,” Angel said firmly, backing away when Aki tried to enter his space again. “Aki, I said no.”

Aki stared at Angel, the devil’s face flickering back and forth from confusion to anger to sadness, over and over again in seconds. Angel sighed, frustration clear in his tone.

“If you want to kill yourself, fine. You can’t use me to do it. I refuse—from here on,” Angel said, his voice wavering. “You feel guilty. Okay. I get that, but for what? For living? Why? How is it selfish to be alive, Aki? Doing this with me—letting me take your life away—it’s… it’s wrong. It’s wrong, and it won’t bring anyone that you’ve lost back, okay? We have to be stronger than that. We need to do better. To live, okay?”

Aki settled on an emotion: anger. Seething, unbridled, uncontrolled anger as he processed what Angel was saying. He closed the space again, towering over Angel as the devil held contact with his eyes. Aki ignored how dewy Angel’s eyes looked.

“What the fuck do you know?” he said, spitting the word out with malice. “You steal people’s lifespans away without a care in the world. Your kind kills, maims, and destroys every single goddamn thing they touch. What the hell would you know about what it means to be alive? About guilt or empathy or anything else that requires a human heart to feel? You don’t know shit.”

Angel looked up at Aki through wet lashes, swallowing thickly before clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Aki paced around the room, simmering eventually as Angel refused to indulge him or entertain the outburst. He turned, looking at the devil picking anxiously at his fingernails, and all he could wonder was, what the fuck am I doing?

“Fuck. Fuck. I am such an asshole,” he said, knocking his clasped hands against his forehead as he found a seat on the stairwell steps below Angel, between his legs, where the devil had chosen to sit down. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean any of that, Angel, I swear.”

The devil looked at him so coldly, visually calculating something in his head in the moments of silence that passed before his expression cleared.

“I know. You didn’t mean it, and yeah, you are an asshole. I’m glad you’re aware now,” Angel said, visually pleased with himself when he coaxed out a smile from the devil hunter. There was still pain laced into his grin, but it was there. That was something.

“Yes. I know. I’m so sorry. I’m just… hurting, but I’m sorry.”

“I don’t forgive you,” Angel said dryly, roughly tugging a piece of shorter hair near the crown of Aki’s head. “You’ll have to be extra sweet to me to get back in my good graces. Starting with ice cream, maybe.”

Aki hummed, softening up at the touch as he leaned his head toward the devil’s hand, still not directly touching.

“Okay. I can do that. The ice cream, and doing better.”

Aki hummed. “You better.”

They sat in cumbersome silence for a while, looking at anything but each other before Aki eventually had to leave for the evening. He brought three pints of ice cream with him when he went to the bar the next day.

xx

The wall between them began to crumble after Aki told Angel his real name, and it only broke further as the two spent more time together. They indulged in untapped secrets and details about their lives outside of the four walls they’d grown accustomed to at the bar, and Aki found himself craving Angel’s touch, albeit in a different way.

“I think… you want to fuck me, and you’re being really coy about it for some reason,” Aki said, sinking a striped ball into a hole in the pool table they’d taken ownership of for the hour. Angel laughed, using his hand to knock a pool ball against one of Aki’s, pushing it further away from the hole than it’d been.

“I think… you’re delusional, or maybe just projecting. If you ask me really nicely, I might think about entertaining your desires.”

Aki chuckled, maneuvering a ball past Angel’s hand, only for the devil to catch it anyway, pushing himself further onto the pool table.

Aki gave Angel a look, rounding the table to slide one long leg between Angel’s spread ones, looking down at the devil where he sat on the edge of the pool table.

“You’re a cheater, and a tease.”

“I am not. You’re just… so annoying, ” Angel said halfheartedly, taking Aki’s pool cue out of his hand before jumping down from the table. He turned, pushing his ass against Aki as he sank a solid-colored ball in the hole. He glanced over his shoulder, sauntering off to hit his next one on the other side of the pool table.

“I prefer the term charming,” Aki said, following the devil.

Angel rolled his eyes, dragging his hand across the fuzzy billiard cloth before positioning for another play.

“I would prefer not to kill you by accident.”

Aki smirked. “As opposed to on purpose?”

Angel rolled his eyes harder, sinking the eight ball after a string of successful plays.

“No more death touches—we promised. Guess you’ll have to figure something out.”

Aki bought his first pair of gloves a few weeks after that, custom fit to the shape of his large hands.

“What are those for?” Angel asked, sipping Aki’s brand of beer when the devil hunter slipped on the pair. They were in their own little bubble in a half-hidden corner of the bar, shielded a bit by tall fake foliage and away from the crowd near the stairwell that led to the bottom level.

“These are so I can touch you all over,” he replied, practically purring.

Angel stared at him, dumbfounded, as he continued sipping at his now empty drink cup.

“What?”

Aki met his gaze, pausing for a moment before checking the stretch of the gloves.

“Yeah. Your abilities don’t work through clothing, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I mean… no. I just didn’t think that you… you know, meant all of that.”

“Well, I did,” Aki said teasingly, caressing Angel’s cheek with his now-covered thumb. “I love watching you, but I want to touch you, too, as intimately as I can. You’ve done all you can to make me feel good, to help me feel better. I want you to feel good too, Angel. An equal exchange, remember?”

Angel stared at him, his eyes flicking back and forth from Aki’s eyes to his lips.

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

Aki slipped his thumb into his mouth. The devil lapped at the digit with his tongue, letting Aki caress his tongue and teeth before removing his finger; spreading some of Angel’s spit against his lips.

“Way too long to just now be doing something about it.”

If anyone ever asked Aki if he started that night with the intention of giving Angel a handjob in public, he’d say no, because he didn’t. Did it happen anyway? Yes, and if you confronted him about it, he wouldn’t even pretend to feel a lick of shame.

“We could go downstairs,” Angel said, biting his lip to keep his noises at bay. Aki had moved to sit next to him, caressing his cock through the fabric of his skirt—straining against the black stockings he’d put on underneath.

Angel wasn’t what Aki would define as traditionally feminine, not necessarily. Still, the devil was gorgeous and often seemed confused by the rigidity of human ideology when it came to what gender should wear what clothing. It was so stupid, he’d told Aki, how ridiculous humans could be about self-expression. They’d had that talk the night the devil hunter punched a guy in the bar over Angel when the guy called him a very human slur. Angel let Aki play with the sensitive feathers on his wings until he came after that.

“You want to go downstairs? You look so pretty trying to keep quiet, though.”

Aki nuzzled his nose against Angel’s hair, careful not to touch his scalp as he tapped his finger against the wet spot of precum dripping from the devil’s slit. He pinched the head through the fabric, pushing his palm firmly back and forth to move the thin skin covering Angel’s length. The teasing didn’t last very long, given how hopelessly turned on the whole ordeal made Aki. He wanted Angel so badly, more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. The devil made Makima feel like a schoolyard crush; this was real. He’d never felt something more real.

“Can you come like this, baby?” Aki asked, pushing up Angel’s skirt just enough to slide him out of the confining fabric beneath.

Suppose anyone came around to sit in front of them at their table or looked over from a high enough vantage point at the bar. In that case, they’d easily notice Aki’s hand working beneath the fabric, his shoulder moving with an unmistakable motion. They’d see Angel trying and failing to contain the small noises spilling from his mouth as his head rested on Aki’s shirt, only concealed by the music coming from the overhead speakers and the loud chatter of patrons pouring in. Aki watched Angel peek over his shoulder, shutting his eyes as he ducked his head against Aki’s chest before he came, covering the inside of his skirt in sloppy wet come.

Once the high came down and Angel chugged a beer, he turned back toward Aki.

“Your turn,” the devil said, moving faster than Aki had ever seen as he headed towards the stairwell, dragging Aki along in his haste to get out of sight.

They didn’t even make it to the bathroom before Angel was bending himself over a stack of boxes in the basement, pushing his skirt up over his hips as he presented himself to Aki.

“God, you’re such a slut. How does a devil even get like that, huh?” Aki said, two seconds before ripping a hole in Angel’s tights.

He marveled at the devil’s hole on display for him, puckered and pink in a beautiful contrast to the dark fabric protecting his skin around it. He fumbled with the lube he’d stashed in his pocket before pressing one lubed finger, then two, into Angel.

“Fuck,” the devil said, eliciting a little chuckle from Aki.

“Fuck? It feels that good baby?” Aki teased, hooking his finger to press against Angel’s prostate.

The devil moaned, surprisingly loud in the isolated space. He started subconsciously fluttering his wings, arching his back further against the boxes as his cock slowly progressed toward full hardness again.

“Stop teasing,” the devil whined, pushing his hips back against Aki’s hand.

Aki didn’t prolong things—too on edge and too lustful to delay it any longer. It’d been months—months—that he’d thought about doing this with the devil. Every time Angel wore a skirt, pretty and frilly even when they were black; every time the devil looked him in the eyes and read him like he’d been given the blueprint to Aki’s soul; every time they shared a nearly there touch or watched each other get off since they’d decided to do things a better way, without indulging Aki in hurting—punishing—himself. He wanted so badly. He needed Angel so badly.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he said, hastily putting on a condom that he’d had stashed in his wallet for far too long.

He pushed forward, sinking into Angel with a groan when his hips met the subtle curve of Angel’s ass. They were protected through maybe too many layers of clothing, but Aki loved it. It felt so dirty like that. They were so desperate for each other that they couldn’t even get their clothes off in the neon lighting of the bar basement. Part of him ached to feel Angel’s skin as he gripped his hips, fucking into him so hard with the missing resounding sound of skin against skin, but it was good—so good—inside of the devil’s tight heat. Aki couldn’t be blamed for how long he lasted.

“I’m gonna come, Angel,” he said, reaching beneath Angel to grab his cock, jerking the devil in time with his thrusts.

His voice was deep and gruff as he came, groaning as he emptied himself inside of Angel, his cock twitching as he poured more and more come into the condom separating them. The devil followed close behind, fucking himself into Aki’s hand as his second orgasm came crashing down on him.

They held their position for a while, even after Aki moved to slide his cock out; Angel held him in place, looking over his shoulder to smile at the devil hunter. Aki hunched over the devil, putting them at eye level and just looked at him for a while. Their stares lingered for a breath too long, and Aki kissed him, holding the back of Angel’s head steady when he started to push Aki away. He let it continue for one more moment, and when the kiss was over, Aki rested his head against the crown of Angel’s head, protected by the thick tendrils of hair.

“Don’t tell me how long that was. I don’t want to know. I just needed to feel you this way, one last time.”

Angel closed his eyes, soaking in the thinly veiled touch.

“Okay. That was the last time.”

xx

“If those two idiots don’t get their shit together, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Angel chuckled, plucking away the cigarette hanging out of Aki’s mouth. They were sitting on the rooftop of the bar, a small makeshift area for smoking that doubled as an unkempt garden. It’d been eight months, give or take a few weeks, and things in Aki’s life had been okay for the most part—minus one aspect of it.

“Just tell them to leave then,” Angel said, taking a long drag. “I know your boss is intense or whatever, but if it’s that bad, then maybe she’ll put them on someone else; give you a break for once. They’ve been living with you for almost a year now.”

Aki groaned, turning Angel’s face towards his with his sleeve-covered wrist. It was a weekend, and he wore a simple long-sleeve black shirt, oversized on his lean frame, and black jeans. His earrings were some dangly number Power harassed him into wearing, and his shoes were some fancy brand that Himeno bought.

“You wouldn’t get it,” he said, breathing in Angel’s air when he blew out the cigarette smoke. Angel turned it toward him, letting him get a good hit before commandeering it again. Aki let him; he had more. “I have to do this—hunt devils. I can’t find him if I don’t, and I can only gather enough intel and resources to do that in public safety. It’s a lose-lose situation.”

Angel scoffed, tugging a strand of Aki’s hair that was blowing into his face from the light breeze. Aki groaned, scratching his fingernails lightly over Angel’s wings, laughing with the devil when they retracted inward from the ticklish sensation. They both let the laughter fade, drinking sips from a shared beer and whittling down Aki’s pack of cigarettes.

“You know, for someone who swore up and down that they don’t like devils, you sure do seem to have a lot of them around—me included. I think you’re pretending.”

Aki chuckled, bitter and dry.

“No, I meant it. I just don’t mean it about you. I mean… those kinds—the ones who cause chaos just because and kill for the thrill of it. The kind who murdered my family. They’re what I hate. Not you.”

Angel blinked at Aki, taking another drag of the cigarette before giving it back.

“That sounds a little racist, actually, but I get it. I’ll let it slide.”

Aki snorted, choking on a mouthful of smoke.

“Raci—. That’s not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. That’s not how you meant it,” Angel said, smirking. “Aki, if these roommates of yours died tomorrow, how would you feel?”

Aki’s smile waned as he pondered it, sitting with the thought for a moment as he imagined his apartment empty. No Denji, no Power, and no other life within the space except for the thriving Parlor Palm plant on his living room balcony. There was a hollowness in his chest and his stomach when he let the thought linger too long. That if they were to die, that emptiness would never go away. It would fester like an untreated wound that sunk down to the bone.

“I don’t know. It would hurt, I guess,” he admitted, taking the new cigarette Angel had fished from his pocket out of the devil’s hand. “It would hurt a lot. I don’t think I could do this anymore without them around.”

Angel smiled softly, kicking his feet where they hung far from the ground on the rooftop’s edge. “If I died, how would you feel about it?”

Aki turned, looking at Angel’s face as the devil stared at the city in front of them. He looked beautiful, and Aki’s chest ached at the thought of never seeing him again—of never getting to speak to him again. Another hole would be left in his life; carving him out until nothing was left.

“Honestly?” he said, taking a deep drag. “My wallet would feel pretty grateful. I’ve never spent so much on booze in my life.” Aki chuckled, dodging the swat of Angel’s hand when it came for him.

“I’m serious,” Angel said, a hint of a whine present in his tone. He knocked his elbow against Aki’s arm, scooting a bit closer when a chill came through with the breeze. “How would you feel?”

Aki looked at him seriously, digging into his pocket to take out one of his gloves. He balanced the cigarette in his mouth as he slid it on, sucking on it like one of those thick sickly-sweet ice cream shakes that Angel loved, and he took the devil’s hand.

“It would hurt. It would hurt like hell. Don’t really know what I’d do with myself,” he said, smoking the cigarette down to the filter, “but don’t let that get to your head. I just… feel a lot of things sometimes. It doesn’t mean I like you.”

Angel chuckled, rubbing his fingers against the rough texture of Aki’s glove.

“Oh, of course not. Don’t worry, I don’t have the wrong idea,” Angel said, a smile cemented onto his face. “Well then, I’ll take that. Life’s all about the little things, after all.”

xx

One consequence of old bars is their bizarre love of theme nights. Fridays at Aki’s bar were—unfortunately—couples’ nights. The specials advertised half-price off spirits and brews for the lucky duos. He’d heard murmurs before that it was a good time, even for singles, but Aki normally skipped Fridays. It was his day to compile his reports and deliver them to Makima before the weekend. His hands were always cramped by the end of it, and he could literally feel the week wearing down on his joints. That Friday had been an off day, though.

His reports were short, simple, and quick to fill out, with minimal casualties to report. Denji and Power informed him that they were going out for the night, safe within the public safety-sanctioned boundaries that the knuckleheads were allowed to venture freely in. It felt weird being the only one at home. He’d grown used to the constant chaos within his abode and felt bizarre without the constant flow of bickering, laughing, and microwave sounds. So, he decided to go out.

Ignoring the calendar and the time on his phone, he left his house, dressed in a casual ensemble that he was actually proud of putting together. It was nice to be out of his work clothing, free of the second skin that built up the bulk of who he was. It felt strangely right as he walked out of his apartment block, his hair blowing with the flow of the wind as he headed to the bar for the first time in fourteen days.

“Wow,” the bartender said when he stepped into her domain, giving Aki a little clap as she came to his side of the bar. “Damn, baby. You clean up really nice.”

Aki chuckled, ducking his head to hide the blush creeping onto his face. His hair covered the red tint on his ears.

“So you’re saying I don’t look this good every day?” he said teasingly, tapering into a laugh as he lit a cigarette. The bartender gave him a beer to go with it, and all felt right as he melted into the bar stool. The relaxation was short-lived as a small commotion from the main area of the bar caught his attention, as well as everyone else sitting around him. When he saw a halo standing out in the crowd, he jumped out of his seat—his cigarette and drink abandoned on the bar. He shuffled through the group of people gathered around the dance floor and stopped in his tracks next to Angel—who was safe and sound—as they both looked at the sight.

A couple was in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by at least half of the bar as they danced. It wasn’t poise or sophisticated or anything special, but it was so visceral how much fun the two were having. They had total trust in each other as they spun around, twirling each other and swaying to the beat of some rock song that Aki didn’t know the name of. They were looking into each other’s eyes, dancing like nothing else in the world mattered.

Angel looked up at Aki, bumping into the devil hunter with his hip as they watched the couples around them start dancing, too.

“Do you dance?” Angel asked, getting a little closer to Aki as the dance floor got a little more crowded. They shuffled themselves a bit further away from the herd as they talked, despite Angel wearing long sleeves; they didn’t want any accidents.

“I can’t say it’s ever really been my thing,” Aki said, visibly shrinking in on himself as he watched the crowd. They were having fun, he thought, despite all the horrors of the world.

Angel swayed side to side a bit, laughing when Aki looked down at him like he’d grown a third head.

“What?” he said, snapping his fingers a little in time with the music. When the song instructed the crowd to clap, he clapped.

“Are devils secretly into dancing or something?” Aki said, thinking back on the little dances he’d frequently seen Power and Denji making up in their free time, even when there was no music to dance to.

Angel shrugged, his closed-mouth smile turning into an open one as he pushed some hair back behind his ear. He did it when he was either too hot—temperature and aesthetics-wise—or when he was feeling shy. The Cheshire cat couldn’t have rivaled how big Aki smiled when he realized it was the latter.

“Just shut up and dance with me,” Angel grumbled, pulling his sleeves down over his hands before he grabbed Aki’s wrists. “It won’t kill your cool guy persona to dance a little. No one here’s gonna judge you.”

Aki squinted, glancing over at the bar where their bartender was absolutely looking over at them, playful judgment plentiful and prepared on her tongue for when they came back to the bar. Angel looked back over his shoulder and saw her too, and his cheeks tinted pink from how hard he laughed.

“Okay, okay. Touche, maybe one person will judge you, but only a little.”

Aki felt his resolve crumble like sand, loose and shapeless beneath his feet. Like it, the effects of that night would linger on him for a long time. Every time he put on that outfit again, or heard that song, or saw Angel smile; he would think of that night with him, dancing at the bar, holding each other’s wrists as they swayed to the music.

“See? Living isn’t really that bad.”

xx

Aki walked into the bar midday on a Wednesday, eleven months after meeting Angel. He kicked snow off of his boots as he entered the familiar establishment. Makima suggested that he take the rest of the day off, and it would be remiss for him to decline such a kind offer. He separated from his division as they stood at a crime scene. Blood and snow mixed in the street, white mixed with bright splotches of red after a devil terrorized a small neighborhood.

Aki felt fine as he left, unsure of what exactly everyone was staring at him for, but he couldn’t concern himself with it. He was given the day off, blissfully able to occupy his apartment without the unwanted additions as they dealt with the fallout, and he was going to enjoy it.

Aki entered his apartment ready to indulge in his kitchen without hungry puppies nipping at his ankles for a bite. He was going to clean and shower in his bathroom without banging interrupting him or the sound of something breaking in the living room, making him get out early. He was going to watch what he wanted on TV, and smoke cigarettes on his balcony without having to peek inside every two minutes to ensure nothing was burning down. He was going to relax. He wasn’t going to think about the day’s date. He wasn’t going to fixate on what it signified, and he’d be damned if he cried.

He made it halfway through making an omelette before throwing the half-cooked eggs in the trash and heading out the door to the bar. He sat in his usual spot, the space around him nearly vacant as he drank alone with the day shift bartender hovering nearby, paying him little attention as the man read a thick book.

Aki made it through five beers before his skin started aching for Angel. He missed the devil’s touch—the sweet salvation that the devil’s abilities gave his mind. He wanted to feel his life siphoned away. He couldn’t handle the pain of his family being gone for another year. He needed to even the score, to honor them by bringing himself closer to them. Hunting devils wasn’t enough. He had to atone for his own sin of living when their lives had been lost—stolen, by that devil. He needed Angel to come to the bar and do that for him, so he waited.

Angel wasn’t in the bar when Aki first came, and he doesn’t show up when Aki is still there during the night shift. Part of him is grateful for it, too drunk to see straight and sobbing softly in the corner of the bar by himself. He would regret it if he let himself backslide. Things with Angel were different now; better. Using the devil felt wrong. It was wrong. He had to learn how to heal on his own. To better deal with his trauma and guilt on his own.

He went home, beer filled to the brim in his body, and he slept instead. He could talk it through with Angel later. As long as nothing happened between now and the next time he saw Angel, then things would be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

xx

Aki feels awful. It’s only a few days after the first anniversary of his year with Angel, and he’s lying alone in his bedroom, chain-smoking cigarettes despite the smell soaking into his sheets. The argument they’d had the previous evening was bad for a lot of reasons; it was made worse when Aki realized that the day was meant to be special. He’d spent a year of his life getting to know Angel; learning to love not only him but all of the devils in his life. He’d spent that same amount of time learning—trying—to love himself, to love life, with the devil at his side; he’d fucked it up in a night.

His family is gone, and he’d been right to be sad about that. Then, Himeno was gone—right after the anniversary—and he was right to be sad about that, too. He knew even Angel would agree with that, but something inside of him broke when he recalled how he had talked to Angel the night prior. He wasn’t justified in that. Even thinking about using sex—something so meaningful to the person he loved, someone who could hardly be touched—against him, trying to use it as his escape��� he couldn’t look at himself. He couldn’t lie to himself convincingly and say he was justified in doing that.

They say the road of grief is not a linear one; Aki knew that. It is a road full of curves and bumps and maybe even a few potholes. There are sections where the road is newly paved, with a silky black finish from freshly dried asphalt, but there are also long stretches that are ragged and disjointed, with weeds popping up in the crescent-shaped cracks. If someone were to walk up to Aki and ask him to put into words how he feels, it would be like the long stretches of county road that have been scorched by the sun, cracked under the weight of too many things running over the surface for too long.

He’s just… tired. He wants Angel, and the devil is nowhere to be found.

“Aki. Aki, open the door.” Aki looks over at the door, pointedly ignoring it as he inhales another lungful of smoke. Denji and Power knew he was feeling bad today, and Power nearly killed them all with a “metal soup can in the microwave” situation trying to make Aki feel better that morning. He was over it.

“Aki, I will have Power come home and bust this door down. I’ll go Chainsaw mode right now, and you’ll have to buy a whole new one! We can do this the easy way or the hard way, old man.”

Aki rolls his eyes, getting up to reluctantly open the door.

“I’m not fucking old, dipshit.”

“Potato, po-ta-to, senior citizen Hayakawa. Why are you holed up in here like a stinky hermit crab? The neighbors thought we had a fire in here or something.”

Aki groans, plopping back onto his bed.

“Leave me alone, Denji.”

“Nope!” the hybrid says, plopping down next to Aki. He plucks the cigarette from his mouth, taking an experimental puff before coughing; shoving it back at the senior devil hunter. “Gross.”

Aki rolls his eyes again, tapping his foot against the floor where his legs hang off the bed.

“What do you want?”

Denji sets his hands on his stomach, intertwining them and playing with his fingers.

“Nothing, just coming to see what you’re so depressed over. You haven’t worked in two days, and you love work! Are you just playing hooky to go see whatever fine piece has been keeping you out at night for… forever now? What’s her name? What’s her ass look like? Is it big or small? Are you an ass guy or a boob guy, anyway? I could never get a good read on that about you.”

Aki groans, pressing his cigarette into the ashtray he’d sat on his bed.

“Denji, shut up.”

“I can’t be silenced,” Denji says, a touch too seriously for such a weird statement, “unless you spill the beans. Who is she? I know it’s not Himeno—RIP—and Makima’s too good for that. Power is… well, Power, and I would’ve heard you two at home by now. You always come home at night smelling like beer and sweet cream, but you’re still somehow awake on time for work. You don’t have that pissy look on your face all the time anymore. Well, except for right now, and you like… smile, sometimes. So, what gives? Girlfriend dump you? Did you have the crushing realization that she was just part of your imagination the whole time? I’ve had that dream, and when I’m done being sad about it, I just beat my d—”

“Jesus… enough!” Aki groans, his throat sore and slightly hoarse from abusing at least four packs of cigarettes in the last forty-eight hours. He sits up in the bed, looking down at Denji, who’s still lounging against the smoke-scented sheets. “I don’t have a girlfriend. He’s…” he pauses, “he’s not my girlfriend.”

Denji looks like the cat that got the cream.

“So there is someone? Tell me everything.”

Aki’s eyes ache from how hard he throws them toward the back of his skull. He gets out of bed and walks into the living room to clean the few things scattered around that the devils didn’t pick up for themselves. The apartment is surprisingly clean otherwise, Aki notes as he meanders into the kitchen with Denji hot on his trail. The devils did learn something in their time with him, after all.

“What are we? High school girls? Ladies at the salon?” Aki says, pouring himself a tall glass of water. “I don’t have to tell you shit, garden tool. Mind the business that pays you.”

“You being in top form does pay me. Well, it benefits me, I guess. We all have to be in top form; that’s what you said, right? So, what has you all bent out of shape? Who’s the mystery man? Is it Kishibe?”

Aki chokes on his water, dripping over the sink as he blows out the liquid trapped in his nose.

“Denji, fuck off.”

“I already said no!” he says, handing Aki some tissues. “Spill it! Spill it! Spill it! Spill it!”

“Okay! Fine, fuck. If it’ll make you stop talking,” Aki says, pulling the devil hybrid over to the couch. He pushes Denji onto the furniture while he floats around the space to water the few plants they’ve accumulated over the past year. He groans when he finds teeth marks in some of the leaves where Meowy has gotten too curious.

“His name is Angel. We met in a bar. I’ve been seeing him for about a year.”

Denji perks up, gripping his knees in excitement like a kindergartener.

“Okay? And…”

“And,” Aki says, gritting his teeth, “I like him a lot. He’s beautiful. He’s funny in that dry kind of way that makes you take a second to process it. He’s actually very kind, even if he acts like he’s not. He looks at the world in black and white but simultaneously sees some of the greys. Like, he calls it how he sees it but can acknowledge the bits he could be missing if there are any. He likes to dance. He makes life feel simple; much smaller but in a good way. He makes me feel like there’s more to life than this.”

Aki leaves out the devil in the details, despite other people in Public Safety being in bed with multiple fiends. Aki just… didn’t want to deal with the drama of that, for him or Angel, especially not from being outed by Denji. He would tackle that when it needed to be shared. Until then, it was his business.

“So, I’m missing where the problem comes in. Does he not want to put out? Do you not want to put out? Is he a bad kisser? It sounds like all the heart stuff is right, so what’s wrong?”

Aki sighs, dumping the leftover plant water in the flowerbed on the balcony, leaving the door open to let the air and his voice carry inside as he sits in his chair to smoke. Denji follows, sitting on the floor in the entryway to watch Aki settle in.

“The problem is me,” Aki says frankly, smoking the first cigarette halfway down in one inhale. He only has two left; he’ll have to go and buy more later.

Denji gasps, covering his mouth with his hand. “Aki. Are you… infertile?” he whispers, subtly (his version of it) pointing at Aki’s dick.

“Denji, even if I were infertile, that wouldn’t mean anything with the man I’m dating. Second of all, no! I’m pretty sure you’re trying to say impotent, anyway.”

“Well, yeah, you’re important, Aki. I can admit that,” Denji says, looking very proud of himself for the compliment. “Well, what exactly is your fault then if it’s not your dick or his dick? What else is there?”

Aki wipes his hand over his face, very much feeling like a father having the sex talk with a very education-deficient child.

“I’m fucked up,” he says plainly, popping a new cigarette out of the pack. “I lost my family, and I thought I was fine; I wasn’t. I’ve lost more colleagues than I can count at this job. I thought I was fine; I am not. I wanted to run away from it all so badly that I really—really—hurt his feelings. I went back on what we agreed to do, what I said I would do. I said I’d be better for myself and him, and I wasn’t, so he’s done, and I can’t blame him. He doesn’t deserve this shit.”

A beat of silence passed between them, filled with the sounds of the streets below them and the air whipping past from how high up in the building they were. He smoked the new cigarette down to the filter, plucking out the last one with a sigh before lighting it up.

“Why don’t you just retire then?”

Aki looks over at Denji like the boy just told him his mother was the second coming of the Virgin Mary. What he said felt just as unbelievable to the devil hunter.

“Excuse me?”

Denji looks at him with that characteristically dopey look on his face, flicking one of Aki’s lighters on and off. Aki does not know where he got it from; he also doesn’t tell him off about wasting the lighter fluid.

“I said quit. If it’s ruining your life so much, then quit. Kobeni resigned, and so did that survivor dude from Division One. Just… quit. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Aki stares blankly at him, cursing when his cigarette burns his thigh where he let his hand relax too much.

“I can’t quit, dumbass. They’d kill you and Power. Do you not remember the conditions of your being hired? Power too?”

“Dude, do you remember the conditions of us being hired? We were an experimental unit, sure, but Divison Four is merging with us soon. Makima will make concessions for you to leave. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it mattered yet, but I’m not shadowing you anymore. I’m a hunter, in my own right. So, don’t fuck up your relationship anymore on my behalf. If you’re tired, quit! Life’s too short to be miserable, man.”

Aki’s face hadn’t moved an inch since Denji started speaking. What happened to the horny teenage idiot that came into his house all those months ago, covered in dirt and smelling like the underside of a garbage container? His face looked as punchable as ever, but he was… different, more mature now, in some ways more than others. What the fuck.

“When the hell did you start making sense?”

“I’m very insightful when I try. Makima says so”

Aki rolls his eyes, stamping out the last of his cigarette. He couldn’t just… quit. He had too many opportunities before for an out, and he didn’t take them. It was too late to take them now. Wasn’t this his fate? For his family? For his pride?

“Aki, I can hear you thinking,” Denji says, a weird half smile on his face like he could actually hear Aki’s thoughts. “Look, Himeno told you to quit, and now she’s dead. I think now is a good time to finally take her advice, don’t you think?”

Aki opens his mouth to reply, but closes it just as quickly when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say. Denji comes out onto the balcony and squats in front of Aki, holding on to the senior devil hunter’s knees.

“Do you believe in me? Makima, the rest of Divison 4… everyone? Do you trust me to avenge your family? You’ve held on to the burden of it for way too long. You’ve done your dues, and I know I didn’t know them, but I’m sure your family would be proud of you. You can be done.”

Aki’s eyes feel wet when he looks down at the devil hybrid, brimming hot and fast with a reservoir of tears he’d held in for too long. God, he’d been holding it in for so damn long.

“Thank you Denji,” Aki says, pulling the younger man into a vice-like hug. Denji pats his back a little roughly, but it feels good. It lets Aki know that he’s there.

“You’re welcome. Now, go get your man. There are only so many places someone brooding enough for you could be hiding in this city.”

xx

Aki sits outside of an ice cream parlor after dark, still early but unlit apart from the business signs due to the time change. The cherry red bench makes him think of Angel’s eyes, and it reminds him of their first indirect kiss. It was cheesy, but after their first time, they left the bar to get ice cream. Angel wanted to try two flavors, so they got two flavors. He licked Aki’s ice cream cone, and Aki tasted his, and he knew then—deep down inside—that he was in for something deeper. The parlor had become the one place he and Angel frequented besides the bar, a hidden gem in the sea of the city that served the only ice cream that Aki had ever liked as an adult. He felt like a kid again when they went, untainted by the horrors of life as he ate his pretty pistachio ice cream cone.

He sits with a serving of the gilded flavor in his gloved hand, barely tasting it as he glances around the exterior, peaking his head into the building every few minutes to see if anyone has walked in through the back entrance. After two hours of sitting, he’s ready to call it quits when all of a sudden, he looks up, and the light around him is eclipsed by ethereal snow-white wings.

“What are you doing here?” Angel asks, glancing around at the sparse crowd of patrons a good distance away from them. His hands are shoved into the pockets of the oversized winter coat Aki gave him, and his wings are compacted small enough to be hidden within the fabric, though Aki can still see their outline pretty clearly.

“Hoping to run into you,” Aki says, having the good sense to look sad about it. “I just want to talk, please. Can we please talk?”

Angel huffs, slightly stomping his foot as he looks at anything but Aki.

“Only if you promise to stop pretending, then I’ll let you talk to me.”

Aki squints, confusion clear on his face as he looks up at the devil.

“What am I pretending about Angel? What do you mean?”

Angel scoffs, his eyes finding Aki’s in an instant. They’re brimmed with fire that matches the vermilion red of his hair.

“I don’t know, Aki. Like everything is okay. Like you aren’t hurting. Like you fucking hate me, maybe.”

Aki holds out his hand, looking at Angel’s face to decode the expression there. He doesn’t really need to, though. Angel is hurt, and Aki hurt him. He knows it’s on him to fix that.

“I don’t hate you, baby. I could never ever hate you.”

“You used to! You used to spout off all the time about how you didn’t like devils. Anytime I did anything that even remotely resembled humanity, you looked at me like I’d grown a second halo or something,” the devil says, his voice raising enough to draw the attention of one patron beside them.

“I know you’re in pain, Aki. I don’t really fully understand it, but I know how I would feel if I lost you. It would hurt like hell—literally! I would feel like a piece of my heart had been cut away. But, you’re here, and I’m here, and you had no right—none—to treat me like an indispensable fucking… devil. Like the devils that you said you hate. The kind that you keep around because they’re useful and nothing else.”

“I know,” Aki says, sighing as he tries to soothe Angel. “I agree. You’re right. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, and I know it’s on me now to fix it. I know you’re right an—”

“I’m right? Then why the fuck don’t you act like it? Huh?” Angel said, fire still burning in his doe-like eyes. “I know I’m a devil, but you’ve been such an asshole. I understand it now—the grief. I get it. I felt like a piece of my chest unraveled when I walked away from you; I can’t imagine that being permanent. I just… don’t take it out on me. Never again. Promise!”

“I promise. I swear to you, Angel,” Aki says, coaxing Angel into sitting down. The devil looks pissed; if they weren’t having such a serious conversation, Aki would swoon over it. “I’ve lost too much. I’ve lost so much and so many people. I didn’t know how to just… be. I didn't know how to live simply, but I want to try. I want to prove to you that I care—that I cherish you. I want to live, and I want to do it with you if you’ll let me. Can we?”

Angel stares at him, his anger still palpable but noticeably waning.

“Prove it to me how?” Angel says, his voice characteristically dry but also childishly snooty.

Aki reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small paper-clipped stack of forms. Angel takes them hesitantly, and Aki tears up when he sees the expression fully change on the devil’s face.

“You’re quitting?”

“I already quit,” Aki says, sniffling as Angel grabs his hand tight, pulling him into a hug.

There are too many layers between them again, and Aki aches to kiss Angel, but this is okay. He’s holding the man he’s grown to love, and there’s nothing but opportunity ahead of them both. Aki shares his ice cream with Angel, partially melted and a little crushed from how tightly he’d been holding it, and he feels at peace, for the first time in god knows how long. He doesn’t quite know where they’ll go from here, but he has newfound security in knowing they’ll figure it out together, for the rest of their lives.

-------------------

𖨆♡𖨆 the end! what'd you think? reblog, reply, or send me an ask to lmk 𖨆♡𖨆

╰┈➤ pt. one; full fic on ao3; thank you for reading!

[dranother-memory]

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠…

I was so close to getting away with it, saving those kids, getting out of here to see them. Maeda, Kinjo, Mekaru... All of them messed everything up! I didn't want to hurt Inori or Yamaguchi, but I had to kill someone! I had to... and I had to get away with it!

"There's nowhere else to run, right Uehara?" Maeda spoke. His voice felt like acid being thrown at me. Even if his words weren't filled with hatred the way he spoke.... Once having considered him a friend, now an enemy.

What can I even say? I had to recollect myself... Even if I did it to save the children, I still sinned. Having killed two people... Even if one was indirectly, I was still the one to set it up.

"U-Uehara-sama?" Taira looked towards me.

"...Excellent. As Maeda said, no matter how badly it was, this is it. It seems this was my limit..." There wasn't much of a point trying to fight it anymore.

"What?! All of the sudden he came back to normal." Kobashikawa spoke.

"Was that it? He must have been acting like Hanato!" Iranami had caught on... Perhaps it's for the best.

"That means... Did you just admit it? That you are the culprit." Kinjo questioned.

"....... I am the culprit." At least if I admit it, it's a burden lifted off the shoulders of many.

"Well now~ I've been watching everything, It seems it's okay to say that you made a decision at this point? This time, no matter how much I play the role of the judge, I'm really sad because I seem to have been too much of a dead weight. How to get rid of this anger! It's a vote time of anger...! Because this happened, you guys will now have to vote with the witch in front of you! The result of this voting, who will become the blackened?! And will your answer be the correct one or the wrong one--?! Now, What's it gonna be--?!" Monokuma's long monologues.... That'll be one thing I'll never miss. Even I have my limits, and that bear has pushed them quite some time ago.

"Ah yes! As for the result of your vote, your choice was... The correct answer! The identity of the blackened who killed two people, Miss Inori and Yamaguchi-kun was... Kinji Uehara!! ...  Huh what is it? Did someone thought I was gonna say those lines before voting?" Monokuma's 'anger' rose... Although with that robot it acts more like a cartoon too much to be any actual rage.

"U-Uehara-sama..." Taira yet again called out to me with only my name. There wasn't much I could do... It was far too late now either way.

"From the second half of the trial, we've been almost certain of it... I guess..." Kobashikawa spoke.

".......Why..... did you kill them?" Kurokawa spoke, she was right, I at least owed them that much of an explanation.

"...I'm sorry." I couldn't put the words together right away, yet I found that slipping out of my mouth quicker then I could realize.

"You're sorry? There's no excuse. Is that all you have to say after killing someone? Plus killing two of our group, do you know that makes you a serial killer?" Kinjo spoke. I understood he had the right to be upset with me for it all, but it doesn't hurt any less receiving the comments.

"W-weren't you very agitated and arguing back a little while ago Uehara? Why did you suddenly become so quiet?" Otori questioned.

"... I only thought that more talk would delay the inevitable. I... had a reason to live and survive this trial even if I had to do that sin." They were my main focus out of all of this...

"That's right! If we found out that you did the murder.... You...are going to die." Taira spoke.

"He already knew that the moment he was caught." Mekaru rebutted.

"No, that's not the reason I did it." They had the wrong idea after all.

"That's not it...?" Iranami questioned.

".....Your...motive? Was there, something else....?" Kurokawa was puzzled by my words.

"Was it the motive this time? The thing that you desperately wanted in that video... an that you wished for...." Taira spoke, I could tell that she was starting to understand but she seemed to still want clarification.

"You mean you had a wish that you wanted to get by killing two people?" Otori questioned.

"...Wrong, there are a few things that must correct you before that. You are right bout everything, the plan and killings are correct, but... I didn't mean to kill two people from the start."

"What...?" Maeda questioned.

"You may look at this as an excuse, but... Only then That person's death will become colorless, so let me speak. Maeda. The only person I was trying to kill was.... Kanata Inori." She was the only one I was going for...

"You did it in the end. It was too late and also too clumsy to plan serial killings. Your execution had  sense of improvisation. First. According to the rules of the school, serial killing would be more damning than profitable for the culprit." Mekaru as usual, speaking with her facts over anything else.

"So what? Were you trying to kill one person to make your sin lighter?" Kinjo spoke.

"I mentioned this was not an excuse, but you're saying that as it is one. However, I have something to say. I'd appreciate if you listen quietly." It would be easier if they just let-

"Funny you say such a thing. Do you think I'm going to listen to a killer's request?" Kinjo started to raise his voice.

"Kinjo...........I'm sorry..... but try to be quiet." Kurokawa effectively told him to silence in her own away. Kinjo let out a 'tch' noise in response.

"... The reason I did this murder is not very relevant to your motives, As you may have guess, but... I'll talk about that later. Inori was always in the infirmary, so she was very easy to target. This probably happened, during Taira's Uproar, so most of you were in the dormitory side. I took that gap and kidnapped Inori from the infirmary, move to the art room on the third floor and... tried to stab Inori with the plaster weapon. However.... That's when He came an threw me away. The one an only Yamaguchi, who i thought was in the dormitory side with you guys......... That guy was..... a wonderful person. How many people can run without having a single thought about their own lives to intead save others?"

"Then Yamaguchi died because he witnessed it, and you were forced to kill him?!" Kobashikawa questioned.

"Yes. Originally, Inori should have been the one to be cut to death with the plaster weapon in the art room. However because Yamguchi intervened, I changed the plan in a rush." I never wanted to kill them both, but Yamaguchi... he ended up throwing off my plans entirely.

"...Now that I hear this, the front and back are starting to fit better. It was especially strange because of Inori Kanata's white coat wiping the blood in the art room. That couldn't be helped, right? When you killed Kakeru Yamaguchi, Kanata Inori, the person he was holding, has his blood splattered on her." Mekeru talked, it was like she was piecing together a genuine puzzle.

"That's true... Come to think of it. When Uehara aid that he had a head injury, the wound was real. That was not acting, but being pushed by Yamaguchi..." Indeed, Otori was right.. My wound at the time was real.

"So that's the story. Anyways, you're serial killer who killed two people. That remains the same no matter what you say to anyone." Kinjo was not going to be 'swayed' I've known that from the start, but it doesn't make his words hurt any less.

"But why did Uehara-sama attempt to murder... I can't even imagine." Taira spoke.

"...... It's hard to explain... How should I say this...." The way Monokuma made it... It was hard for me to say no in the first place...

"...Wait, before that.... Can I ask something?" Kurokawa weakly spoke up. "....You.... When Taira's commotion happened... You said that you kidnapped Inori.... If..... If Taira didn't have a commotion.... I mean... You wouldn't have known that, it would have been.... difficult to schedule..."

"Why are you asking for that so suddenly Kurokawa? What are you trying to say?" Iranami tried to figure out where Kurokawa was going with her questioning.

"In other words, this is what the woman said. How did you know that Taira's uproar would happen?" Mekaru spoke up in place for the other.

"Oh, They knew?!" Otori was in shock and he looked around the trial room quickly.

"Think about it. If you had decided to kill, you would have a plan and execute it in advance. How could they calculate the timing to kidnapped Kanata Inori without knowing that everyone was gathered in the dormitory because of Taira's bustle? ... Well, I'm not sure what Taira's situation was in the first place." Mekaru spoke.

"...Hoho. So after all it was Kurokawa... You seem to have the power to pick words by it's very own core. It's natural to think like Kurokawa. It would be strange to hear that. The plan looks as if it knew in advance that Taira would go and make a ruckus.... The answer to this is simple. It's because I knew in advance."

"Huh...? H-how?" Maeda spoke, questioning me further.

"Are you a psychotherapist? You knew Taira's mental state andd preicted the future...?" Iranami questioned.

".........I don't think he's talking about that." Kinjo chimed in. "........Speak, I'll listen to this."

".... It's not that big of a mystery. Someone just informed me. 'Taira's going to make a fuss soon, there'll be an empty frame for you'." It was the truth, but I can understand how odd it sounds.

"...?! Not anyone can tell you that..." Kinjo rebutted.

"... You, don't tell me..." Mekaru spoke.

"There's one more thing I have to apologize for doing to you guys. In particular you, Maed. I should apologize more than the others."

"Eh...?" Maeda questioned.

"I......Am......!" I tried to speak but got cut off by Monokuma.

"Yeah~! It was a very obvious story that The leader from the darkness gave Kinji Uehara intimidation an threats from the shadows and led him that chance to kill a couple of times!"

"W-what?! What did you just say?!" Kobashikawa was seemingly just as shocked as Otori had been earlier.

"This is blimey! Why re you suddenly interrupting!" Otori shouted at Monokuma.

"Huh?? Did you not hear me correctly? Then can I say it one more time? Yeah~! It was a very obvious story that The leader from the darkness gave Kinji Uehara intimidation and threats from the shadows and led him that chance to kill a couple of times!" Monokuma shouted it again but louder then before.

"U-Uehara-sama...." No matter how many times Taira says my name, it'll never change the fate and actions I've done.

".........The traitor....?" Kurokawa asked.

I couldn't say anything at this point, was there much to even say? I was still waiting for Monokuma to tell me the truth... the kids...

"Anyways, that's the end of the story, so we're done chatting!! If you guys continue on and on like this you will be dragging again while doing reminiscence scenes or whatever!" Monokuma let out a chuckle.

"Wait, you're the traitor, but you got blackmailed? What are you talking about?" Mekaru questioned.

"...Even if I'm the traitor, I don't know much. I don't know who the mastermind is, and why the mastermind is doing this to us. However... When we first came here, Monokuma approached me and awoke me before you guys... They were holding our church's children hostage, They said they'll give me information and will release them if I do what I am told to do." I just wanted... the kids to all be safe.

"W-W-What in the heavens?!" Otori shouted out, they were really willing to even drag children into this.

"W-wait a minute! Cathedral children?! Calm down speak slowly!" Kobashikawa asked, but he was just as concerned as everyone else by now.

"...The cathedral where I belong to, or the rather there's a facility that takes care of children who have nowhere to go... That is entirely in the hands of Monokuma. So I was threatened under that pretext." Looking back... My questions were not worth anyone dying, but I wanted the kids out of anyone to be safe. They all had bright future ahead of them.

"You... Did you really fall for that kind of crap? That was all a bluff from that bear!" Kinjo tried to berate the idea....

"That was not a bluff!! He showed me the video, and I was shown having a conversation with the children MYSELF!!" I know I heard them! Why don't they believe me?!

"....What did they.... ask...?" Kurokawa questioned. "What were you instructed to do...?"

"...Basically, I had a surveillance camera, so I was filming everything that was happening in every blind spot and send it to the mastermind....... More importantly, if killing were happening between students enter in a stalemate, I would commit the murder myself...... If I don't comply with this...... They said he would murder the children instantly.... I didn't have a choice....."

"So... Did you commit the murder because there was a deadlock after Ayame Hanato?" Mekaru questioned.

"T-that was the Motive?! So this time, our motive, it was useless to anyone?" Iranami spoke.

"If you look at it that way, you may not be able to see anything. But Monokuma in that time, he said is the time, so you are instructed to move, was the time when the announcement of the motive came. In the completely soundproof private room... Showed me the children. If you kill this time, your children will be free, and if you don't get caught, you can get out from this school..." It was the only way... Even if I don't get out of here, I want them to be safe and free....

"A fully soundproof room... No wonder, this motive was purely to deliver the orders to Kinji Uehara." Mekaru spoke.

"Y-you are so...! Using the lives of children to threaten Uehara-sama...!!!" Taira shouted at Monokuma, obviously fed up with everything as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Was that unfair? Then I'll make it easy for you! Puhuhuhu.... This is not a blackmail. I just gave you a choice if Uehara-kun didn't want to kill, he could have refused."

"Don't mess with me!! You said moments ago that there were threats?!?!" Kobashikawa rebutted.

"Hey, y'know that was... It's a narrative thing! Don't think too deeply!" Monokuma spoke but it sounded more like riddles then anything real.

"The last time was so rotten, because I couldn't let those children die. You guys.... I really have no face to show you." I knew it was selfish of me to kill to leave as everyone else would've died.... yet, I still longed to make sure the children were alright. Some way or another...

"Of course I understand to some extent that this was forced upon you, but would you still have to get your hands bloody? Was it that necessary to kill? Do you think those kids want you to be a bloody murderer?!" Kinjo shouted at me... but of course I don't want them to see me that way....

"...Just like kids don't want me to be a killer, I don't want kids to lose their lives. There was only one way. It's enough with just me to fall into hell." I was more then willing to go to hell with the sins I have committed, trading my life for theirs... It was good enough in my eyes.

"You don't want kids to lose their lives? Then, are you saying when you kill someone you don't know like Inori and Yamaguchi, they will lose their lives as well? Inori and Yamaguchi also have friends, family, and you say there’s some people you don't want them to die? You don't even know the details, and you were worried about the children, right?" Kinjo had begun going on one of his tirades, but there wasn't much he nor I could do at this stage right?

"Strange, Kinjo. My logic shouldn't be any different from yours, but you're getting heated aren't you?" I thought we shared similar ideologies... trading three lives for dozens others...

"... The logic of a killer is the same as mine? ... What are you talking about?" Kinjo questioned.

"Discard prime numbers for the majority. Isn't that what you said? I scarified the lives of 15 people and took the precedence over the lives of 100 cathedral children." Was that not the same thing? It ended up leaving Kinjo speechless either way. "Of course, that doesn't mean I'm allowed to commit murder. But Kinjo, you put Mekaru, Tomori and me in danger the one who went saying the exact same thing? Wouldn't it be necessary to reconsider your stance at least once?" Everyone looked at me in silence. "...And I know too well, That I am an ugly being. It won't be enough to go to the Lord's side,  but it's enough to suffer, go to hell and die... But it's fine. Although I will not be able to meet those kids because I won't be able to live, I was able to save their lives with my sacrifice... Monokuma! You kept your promise?!" I had to shout to get the bears attention, he'd long since tuned me out by now if I hadn't.

"Puhuhuhuh, of course! Even though Uehara's crime was revealed and in the verge of being executed, he still murdered as I ordered him to. Since the moment you killed Yamaguchi-kun, the children have already been released!"

"The children... they are safe, right?" I wanted to make sure, just before I die...

"Oh? Are you curious? So, do you want to see the proof then? Video please!"

The kids.... They... What...?

"....H-hey? Did you play the wrong video?" Otori asked.

".....Those clothes.... Kana. T.... That's.... Haruki......." I knew exactly who they belonged to... None of them were safe... There was so much chaos... So many brutal sights... None of which, a child should have to deal with... "....That hat.... was from... Mitsuki..."

"U-Uehrara...?!" Maeda called out, but everything felt like it was spinning too much...

"...Mo....nokuma.... How .... did this... happen?... You.... you....promised..." I couldn't take my eyes off the screen, looking in horror even after the film had ended.

"Huh? Promised? Didn't I keep it? I definitely promised to release the kids. Have I ever told you I would "let them be"? Phuhuhuh..."

As Monokuma cackled, I couldn't bring the strength to move... To do anything... I killed two people... I'm going to hell and in the long run, I wasn't able to save anyone..........

"U-uehara! Wake up!" Maeda called out to me but I couldn't hear him.

"Scumbag...!!" Kobashikawa shouted out at Monokuma's direction.

".....Y-you.... this is inhuman.... How.... could you do this..." Taira's voice ended up cracking as she tried to push away the tears from her eyes.

"Because I am not human, but a bear!! And Uehara-kun, don't be so sad! It's been awhile since they've been dead anyway, soon you'll meet them!" Monokuma was excited, not that I could do anything. My feet were still keeping me in place, standing there shocked...

"M-meet them...?" Otori spoke.

"Yes!! Shouldn't we start soon? E-X-E-C-U-T-I-O-N-T-I-M-E~!!!! I'll make you follow your kids, so be patient!" Monokuma let out another laugh only to be cut off by a shouting Taira.

"W-Wait a minute!! This is... this is too much!!

"I'm sorry, but I don't have much time either! I've got a busy schedule here! Now then let's get started! I've prepared a very special punishment... For Kinji Uehara, the Ultimate Priest! Then let's go with lots of energy~!!! IT'S PUNISHMENT TIME!!!!!"

Before I realized what was going on, I was being dragged out of the trial room. Everything was dark at first before I felt a heavy weight dropped next to me. It hit the ground with a harsh thud. I looked over to me, but I knew exactly what it was before the lights even turned on. A bright flash from above shined off the surface of the cross that was laying there. I understood very well what I had to do, I moved myself in a way where I could just barely get it lifted off the ground, at least this way I can make small movements with it. Even if it's heavy, I can slowly make it there. I carried it for as long as I could before I felt my shoulder give out. Suddenly a building popped out of nowhere, a church... I was dragged in along with the cross as tons of Monokuma's began lining up to 'pray'. Even I knew where this was going. A Monokuma pushed my hand up to the cross and jammed a nail into it, pinning me to the cross. The pain in my hand was unbearable for a moment, I felt my hand spazz out trying to regain control of my muscle. I couldn't let the pain show... The kids suffered much worse then I am now. My other hand got the same treatment, I couldn't help but flinch as that hand spazzed out as well. A crown of thorns were lowered onto my head and it made sure to squeeze tightly, I felt the blood start to drip down my face from the thorns but I could barely react... I deserved this pain after all. There was a clicking noise from a button in the distance, and the cross had began to shake but then it went dark. Everything had shut down and the cross fell straight backwards. I felt something snap... My head wasn't in it's right position anymore but the Monokuma's all deactivated. I have to sit here and bleed out like a withering rose...

[robotonthemoon]

Confessions of a Recovering Conservative - Nature

I have spoken before of my old conservative affiliations. Recently I have been contemplating differences in thought process. Understanding each other is helpful, even if just because it helps avoid talking past each other. So I provide some thinking; not necessarily as an argument for the views presented, but as an explanation. This is not purely an internet disclaimer against bad faith takes. I wanted to be abundantly clear the intent here, because I will be presenting these thoughts from a perspective of "this is what I [used to] believe."

There is an optimism I have observed in leftist thinking that I do not remember seeing in conservative circles. That ideals should be strove for even if they are ultimately unattainable. That people are generally good or at least not bad. And I want to convey a reason why that comes off as naivety at best and dangerous at worst.

Human nature.

Look for a bit at history. The atrocities, the war and hate, the oppression and exploitation. A pendulum swinging between times of greater progress and greater cruelty. And now consider for a moment that maybe: this is just how people are. That is the human condition. That is the nature of humanity.

Now I can hear it already, the calls of naturalist fallacy. Just because something is natural does not mean it is good. Arsenic is natural but it is poisonous. Excellent. Not the point.

Of course human nature is bad. Not arguing it isn't. Saying that it is the way of things though, and any effort that doesn't take it into account is doomed to fail. You cannot fight nature, just adjust for it. Trying to promote a system that doesn't would mean a constant effort to overcome our base nature and that simply isn't sustainable. It's Sisyphean. It, will, fail. And in the process drag us down with it.

So the goal becomes, not pursuing an impossible ideal, but how to adapt and survive with what we have. This often means holding on to traditional structures and rules. Time tested so less likely to collapse; after all they have withstood human nature for this long.

An acceptance of the evil in humanity is part of this thinking. You aren't going to convince humanity (as an aggregate) to not be awful. Sticking your neck out and trying to make things better is asking to get your head taken off. This is not cowardice, it is just reasonable. You won't fix things and you'll suffer for it so why be foolish? This can then metastasize into supporting evil.

"It is better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path." —Beni, the Mummy (1999)

Not everyone can succeed. Not everyone can thrive. This is not a bug. Nor is it a feature. It is just a fact. But this does not mean human nature and the realities of life on Earth are only evil. There's plenty of good. I have not known many conservatives who thought otherwise. Yet the optimism is not there. Creation is harder than destruction. So it is easy to look at the good we do and think "this is excellent but it will not last." After all, the nature of humans seems to only extend kindness and love so far. We care about the people we care about, and not really about about anyone else. Variation occurs certainly; some people are more capable of large scale compassion than others. Great. Not enough of them to change things long term.

Which brings me to another aspect of nature: we are not all equal. We just aren't. Legally we need to be to keep the government neutral. Realistically we are not. Some people are faster than others. Some are smarter than others. Some can out swim or run anyone because by quirk of birth they do not produce lactic acid the way most people do. Trying to deny that some people have advantages others lack is as strange as denying a six foot person is taller than a five foot person. In a way, if you will permit me to terribly misuse a therapeutic term for a moment, there is a radical acceptance of it. I imagine you can already guess how badly this thinking can be misused with biological/racial essentialism.

Now to a point I have been waiting to make. Much of this comes from "conservative-mindedness" not necessarily political affiliation. The structure of brains is different in general. I count myself as conservatively minded; my response to fear and anger are definitely more pronounced than the liberals and leftists I know. Yet that has not stopped me from reaching more left-aligned conclusions. It can be done.

My conservative thinking is what lead me initially toward transhumanism. After all if the problem with achieving a more ideal world is human nature, then why not change human nature? Technological progress has made material improvements to life, quite in contrast to the unending pendulum of aspirational morality and crushing horrors evident throughout history. So why not apply that to ourselves? That is an entire other discussion.

My proposal is thus - that we try to redefine "conservative" to mean steady but gradual progress, almost an evolutionary process, rather than stasis or regression.

Conservative: marked by moderation or caution —Merriam-Webster

I think people like myself could be more open to that. Not revolution but still forward. Letting each step "bake in" to society so that it feels more stable and secure. Less likely to collapse when the pendulum inevitably swings back. If you are thinking "we already do that", precisely. What we need to do is get the regressives to stop digging in their heels. To assure those concerned with the hostile nature of life that we can move forward with tempered reliable steps. That we are accounting for evil in our plans.

That is why I can count myself as say, a market socialist. Communal ownership of businesses by workers within an established market system can do real good for helping people succeed and overcoming the tyranny of an owner class, without being so radical as aiming directly for something like anarcho-communism. It is optimistic in a measured way.

That feels more possible. That feels safer. While still making progress. Conservative progress.

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Bad Company - Shooting Star - Live at Wembley" on YouTube

This song is horrible but it really really sounds cool. It is extremely gross. They go up in the wooden shifts and they jump out and try to breach and a lot of them Miss it's not easy and then they slide off some of them and they forget their things they supposed to cling on with and pull it out and they're going too fast and it goes on for a while and they go through the shield and they're on fire and you can see them from land with some binoculars really telescope and people say it's shooting stars and our son says that you should make a wish and that's symm will send you something. And it set it off because he they said Sim well he made it up and then he said out loud no it's s y m m and a lot of people were praying for stuff because of relatives were dying and we spent a lot of stuff that day and was present wrapping and even an apartment complex and they were full of joy and they said why it said because he can finally and they called up and says what else can you get here so I don't know how many shootings does he got they're not dead. They laughed and said we got plenty and they said they needed food and stuff and it's weird he goes wait a minute keep the list going and so as the list was going stuff was arriving I said where are you people well I'm in the past in Florida so they got it it helped a lot people started feeling better so what you doing it's a little odd they said I feel sick too cuz David's boat. So they remember the father vomit thon. I was looking for bG and they found him they said what about the vomit thought I was trying to think of this boat and Dave he says it's just making him sick and he threw up all over the place. Tommy boy was right there he's going what the hell. Bg looks up and says not now I'm really sick of you threw up you threw up twice as much. So Tommy boy I looked up and he looked down and said let me help you out with something and he started throwing up and he would not stop for like 10 minutes and it all came out they had big bellies was vomiting there's like a thousand people there and they're dressed up to fight and stuff and they all throw it up and VG acid what are you doing bja said what are you doing I said we're getting sick because of it Brian got a little sick so hold it all out and had a moment of silence. And Brian came in and had a memorial in medals for the families and he's been doing it lately and it said good. There's some people who can make those ships and he gives them to every crew and each member they have these wooden ships that you build in the bottle is handing them out to them some say we don't want it and put it in the museum and they do and then they say it's from him and they want it badly. And the family of the captain gets a big one and that's the message in a bottle.

Thor Freya

He just made it up now it's a good idea though

Hera

Oh god I think I'm going to be sick again

Bg

[a-kiwi-fruit-that-makes-ocs]

So basically when I go to bed at night I hold my Spamton queen sized pillow (The cutest thing ever.) and I think about this idea I have that I might make into a fanfic. Basically I have this small business and Big Shot Spamton took pity on me and dated me to make me feel better, mainly because I remind him of his past self. Note about Big Shot Spamton in this thing, he frequently dates people in like that “trophy person” kinda way (He dates whoever, usually not for long because he’s just trying to prove somewhat to himself that he’s lovable after his abandonment.) But here’s the catch. This time, he actually falls in love instead of the relationship being something that makes him feel better about his abandonment. (The dating people a bunch and not really loving them thing is canon because of the sweepstakes, seeing as how he cheated on Jevil. I just choose to say “Oh my god this totally looks like searching for people to fill the void in one’s heart after being abandoned.” And the cheating is DEFINITELY a self destructive behavior, intentionally trying to mess up relationships because he feels like he doesn’t deserve the possibility of love.) Anyways the relationship goes on, and Spamton can’t bring himself to telling my self insert that he loves him. This results in an argument with my self insert ending the relationship. Shortly after, Mike leaves Spamton. Spamton becomes friends with, and ends up dating Swatch as a rebound to my self insert. Swatch figures out that it’s a rebound, and dumps Spamton’s ass. (Also because Spamton is self destructive and can’t show his love for people) Spamton, now having no money and no relationship or friendships, ends up falling into acid BUT NOT ON PURPOSE. He got lost when leaving the mansion and tripped into the acid. He got thrown out shortly after that. So now his legs are pretty messed up, and he has no one. So he tries to sneak in, multiple times. It doesn’t work. Meanwhile, my self insert is physically doing well, but doesn’t really open up to anyone anymore. He has a few customers he’s happy to see, but not many close friends. Skipping a few years, my self insert finds Spamton in the alley. Neither of them recognize each other, as Spamton has pretty much been lost to madness and not only has blocked out the memories of my self insert, but looks nothing like how he used to. He hasn’t quite gotten to the “Needs a lightner soul” phase yet, but he is defensive in an aggressive way. My self insert calms him down and takes him home, to which he ends up saying his name. Spamton G. Spamton. My self insert has the realization of how badly Spam has been messed up, and just breaks down because he never stopped loving Spamton, he was just upset that he felt like Spamton never loved him. The two have a moment, and Spamton breaks down too because someone is taking pity on him. They hug, and that’s when Spamton’s memories are triggered. The two just cry and cry before my self insert helps him get clean, and sees him some nicer clothes to wear. They have a heart to heart, and Spamton went to sleep in the guest bedroom, but he got scared and asked to cuddle to sleep instead. My self insert tells Spamton that he loves him, and in the morning, Spamton is gone. He left a note about how my self insert couldn’t love him like how he is now, and how he obviously only wants Big Shot Era Spamton. My self insert, of course, goes on a whole mission to find him. He’s back in the trash, and a Fight ensues. Spamton’s attacks get less and less dangerous as he just breaks into tears, while my self insert dodges not a single attack and just tells Spamton about how he loves Spamton no matter what. He doesn’t care that he’s been hurt, he doesn’t care how messed up he is. He doesn’t care about how rich or famous he is. Eventually Spamton just stops attacking and breaks down. That’s all I’ve got for now.

[tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik]

"Warren being a total simp for you would include" HC's

Warren Worthington III x reader

Based from this request "Are you taking requests? If you are can you do like headcannons or a blurb of warren literally worshiping reader (their body or something yk?)", I tried not to focus so much on the physical stuff tho. Hope you like it or is at least what you had in mind @yelenabelovasbathwater 💞

--------------------------------

Warren is not a man of words. That is a fact.

Not because of awkwardness or lack of vocabulary.

Actually, it is the complete opposite, he's smooth and eloquent when he wants to be.

Warren knows just the right things to say to get his way.

Some people would call him a sweet-talker, others a smart-mouth.

Either way, they're both right.

And it's all thanks to his up bringing.

This man has been 'networking' way before he understood what that was.

Although Warren is fluent in many languages, he seems to forget how to use them whenever he tries to express his emotions.

To his friends.

To the people he admires.

And to you.

Warren has always been an affectionate person, problem is, he was forced by his parents to suppress his feelings down from an early age.

He never learned to properly communicate with others in that regard.

People often think of Warren as cold and aloof.

Unapproachable and selfish.

And he can be.

When he needs to.

He had to learned it the hard way.

If you come across as soft and nice people would take advantage of you.

Even as tough as he was back in Berlin, Apocalypse still managed to use him like another one of his puppets.

He swore to never let that happen again.

But then he met the X-men, and he realised this was a place were he could let his guard down.

He has been trying to work on his little 'problem'.

He really wants to let the ones he love know how much they mean to him.

And by that I mean YOU.

This poor man spent what felt like eons pinning over you.

There was an extremely weird mix between calmness and euphoria you brought on him whenever you were around, which drove him insane.

He wanted so badly to be with you but he couldn't get the guts to actually say it.

Pretty unfitting with his overall BadBoyTM facade.

Longing hands and fingers aching to prolong each contact.

Searching eyes who looked for any sign to indicate the feeling was mutual.

Same big doe-eyes who light up with every look you gave his way.

Lips who chanted your name like it was a prayer.

Like if your name held an addictive taste only perceptible to Warren.

Thankfully you understood the Angel's silent pleas, and you'll be damned if you let them unanswered.

It was you who asked Warren out for your first date.

It was also you the first one to say the big 4-lettered-word.

Not like you minded. You knew how deep Warren's love ran for you.

Not because he didn't say it, meant it wasn't there.

You could see it.

You could feel it.

Still, he hated that acid feeling remanecent from each time there was an opportunity for him to say it out loud, jet he would let it go by without muttering a word.

As if his mouth had suddenly disappeared.

There's nothing the Angel despieced more in this world than himself each time he thought, you might believe he didn't love you enough.

It was so much for him to handle he even went out and asked Scott for advise.

'Dude, relax OK, what might work for me might not work for you. Its all about finding the right fit, whatever comes more natural'.

And so Warren realised he might have been saying that same 4-lettered-word since the moment you two first met, but in a different manner.

He realised he has neved been a man of words.

But of actions.

His never leaving frown and never ending grunts of displease are part of his easthethic.

With that been said, Warren is the living incarnation of the An asshole to the world, a sweetheart to his girl trop.

There is no doubt to anyone, even to outsiders, just how utterly and madly in love he is with you.

As mean and threatening as he looks, this man treats you like a fucking Queen 24/7.

There is nothing you might want that Warren won't give to you.

The sky is the limit.

Obviously splurging money will always come easy to a rich boy.

But that's not the reason why anyone whose not blind could think you have the blond under a hex or something.

There's just something about those big baby blues whose shine only seems to get brighter the more he stares at you.

Seriously, the way your boyfriend looks at you is like he's under a trance or something.

Who could blame him though, he just... loves looking at you.

The way you move your hands around when talking.

How you crunch your nose when you laugh.

How you scrutch your eyebrows when you're concentrated on something or remembering anything.

How you your lips go upwards in a subtle smile whenever you're cought doing something you shouldn't have been.

This habit of staring at you obviously has it perks.

Like how your things stopped getting forgotten at random tables and places because your helpful boyfriend always kept picking up the stuff you left behind.

Sudden bumps, falls and hits are a thing of the past because your Guardian Angel always prevents them.

Mostly, Warren does it so much because it's the one thing he can do everywhere around anyone.

He might stugle with PDA but he has become a little more confortable with it, at least around The Gang.

And with a little I mean, a looot more confortable.

To the point it becomes unbearable.

To the point where everyone but Kurt has complained about it at some point.

Maybe because he can't keep his hands to himself. And if we're honest, neither can you.

When you're not making out like if your boyfriend just came back from the war or something, somehow, you two are always connected in a way.

Intertwined fingers, locked arms, one's legs, head or straight up being sitting on the other's lap. You name it.

With that in mind, Warren will always be caressing your hands no matter the position.

He adores them

Some are a 'boobs kinda guy', some others 'butt'.

Warren is the hands type.

Belive me when I say HE ADORES THEM, mostly the fact their not pristine perfect.

They're covered in scars from previous battles, your nail polish is chapped and mismatched, with ever lasting marks from the many rings you wear all the time, with picked skin and multicoloured pen doodles.

He adores them so much because they tell a story.

They have a past from the scars, a present from the funy drawings you or Peter will do on your hands when bored, and a future for the idea of giving you one day another ring to add to your collection.

So yes

Overall there cannot be a doubt Waren Worthington III wouldn't kill for you.

There cannot be a doubt Waren Worthington III wouldn't die for you.

Either way it would be a bliss for him.

[jackrrabbit]

Sidekick /// Dabi x f!Reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Summary: During a rescue gone wrong, a rookie sidekick catches the attention of two villains.

A/N: Thanks for 1k followers!! This is the fic that made me create a smut blog/lowkey inspired this. imho this might be the spiciest thing I’ve ever written 😳 also wanted to call out @kazooli​ because this is highkey inspired by her lol thanks queen

Tags/warnings: quirk kink, reader’s quirk makes other quirks stronger, noncon, threesome, lots of foreplay, outdoor sex, mild overstimulation, degradation, mild violence, threats, chronological/temporal inaccuracies, fucking long

You can hardly be blamed for not recognizing them. It’s only been three weeks since you debuted as a pro, and you’re not even really a hero. You’re a sidekick, and apparently you’re not important enough to have been briefed on the major villains you need to look out for. You’re just…doing your duty. Rescuing civilians indiscriminately. Stupid, naive little sidekick. It’s not your fault that the lives you just saved belong to the two most notorious villains around.

Still, Shigaraki can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out.

///

The disaster you ‘rescue’ them from—the League’s bar crashing down, the result of a small-time villain’s poisonous gas quirk—isn’t even a disaster. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but Shigaraki and Dabi would have been fine without you…even though both of them missed Kurogiri’s warp gate and ended up trapped under a wooden beam in the wreckage of the building… Okay, it’s more than a minor annoyance. Shigaraki hacks violently as the cloud of foul-smelling steam and powdered debris enters his lungs. The poisonous quirk doesn’t seem to be having the same acid-burn effects on his body as it did on the building, but he can’t assume it’s harmless.

Father… Shigaraki took Father off his face to drink at the bar earlier before the gas hit, and now in the confusion the severed hand is either buried underneath the rubble that used to be the League’s main base or somewhere else out of view. “Father? Father!” Shigaraki calls out, attempting to shift under the crushing weight of the beam.

“Shut up,” Dabi says from somewhere to Shigaraki’s left. “Kurogiri took it in one of the portals, I saw it.” He looks worse than Shigaraki feels—something hit him in the face as the bar collapsed, and a few of the staples (piercings? stitches? whatever) on his right cheek are torn open and bleeding.

“Are you lying to me?”

Dabi sneers and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” His palms glow blue and Shigaraki follows suit, letting four fingers sit on the wood that’s pinning both of them to the ground. It’s too heavy to lift, so they’re going to have to get rid of it…a task that seems significantly more difficult when it becomes clear that neither of them are positioned at the right angle to touch it.

Shigaraki tries to wrest his arm out enough for his thumb to touch the wood, but it’s impossible. Beside him, Dabi’s having the same issue. “Shit, I can’t reach—“

“Is someone there?” Confident, clear, and oddly robotic, your voice cuts through the din of gurgling water from cracked pipes and police sirens like a lit flare in the darkness. Shigaraki tenses and halts his attempts to get free from the beam, and a second later Dabi mimics him.

“I heard voices.” The same unfamiliar voice rings out through the half-light, now accompanied by a body—your body, taking a series of awkward jumps down the piles of rubble to land in front of the two of them. The outfit you’re wearing is ridiculous: a pair of metal boots that clang against the cement wherever you step, matching braces on your arms, and a space-age chrome motorcycle helmet to top it all off.

A hero. Shigaraki’s lip curls in disgust as your head turns his way.

You scan the scene quickly, eyes resting on the two men trapped in front of you for a moment before you turn back to the opening in the wreckage. “Found two civilians!” you call out to the rescue workers just in case they’re within earshot, although it’s unlikely.

Dabi snickers under his breath. Civilians? Even in the chaos, you should’ve known the second you saw them who you’re looking at. Are you faking ignorance? Got something up your sleeve?  It’s either that, or you genuinely don’t recognize them. Priceless.

You kneel down in front of the fallen beam and give a half-hearted attempt to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. No surprises there—if it were light enough for you to lift by yourself, the two men held down by it would have no problem getting out with their combined strength. You’re going to have to use your support gear to get it off them.

But first—you search for a memory of your rescue training. Reassure the victims. They’re probably panicking.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them, your voice coming out mechanical and distorted from the helmet you’re wearing. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here to save you.”

This time, Dabi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Ah, yes…they’re so lucky that there’s a do-gooder little hero around to rescue them, because they’d be helpless otherwise. The laugh is still audible, though, and Shigaraki shoots him a glare.

You raise an eyebrow at their expressions. Did he just laugh? Well…you’ve heard that people sometimes have inappropriate reactions in times of crisis. The dark-haired man seems more badly hurt, so you creep toward him first, careful not to disturb any of the debris and trigger an avalanche reaction. “I’m going to check your injuries now,” you tell him, and your gloved hand brushes away a sweep of spiky hair to examine the sizable red bump growing on his forehead.

Ouch…there’s no way that doesn’t hurt, but the man’s not letting any of the pain show on his face. Instead, he looks disinterested at best, and at worst? You almost get the feeling that he’s eyeing you up under your hero costume. Not that you can blame him. Damn this skin-tight bodysuit—it leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask him. “I don’t think this is too serious, but they’ll look you over for a concussion when I get you to first aid.”

Dabi shrugs and you frown. Is the non-verbal response because of the ripped stitches in his face? Is it too painful to talk? Or could there be brain damage? Or maybe he’s just a man of few words or something…?

“Can you get on with it? Pick up the fucking beam already,” Shigaraki hisses.

Startled, you pull your hand away from the other man’s forehead. That ungrateful little…nope, nope, don’t get annoyed, he’s just in shock. “O-Of course, sorry. Just gotta make sure it’s okay to move.”

Luckily, the beam doesn’t look like it’s supporting anything else that’ll fall if you pick it up. You crouch down next to one end and steady your feet against the cement, lifting up with all your strength while activating the effects of the support items you’re wearing. When you feel the metal on your arm braces grow warm, you remind yourself again to thank the developer of your costume. You may not be a fan of the way-too-tight bodysuit that clings to everything, but the strength-enhancing armor that you wear on your arms and legs more than makes up for it.

A second later, you hold back a grin. It’s moving! You try to ignore the unpleasant screech of metal against stone as the beam slowly lifts into the air. As soon as the men get out from under it, you pant and let it crash back into the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Mm…yes,” Dabi replies, running a hand over the torn piercings in his cheek. “Got any more gas masks for the poison mist?”

“Don’t worry! The Commission is familiar with the villain who created it, and the gas isn’t harmful to anything living. Only buildings. It’s a troublesome quirk, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Then what’s with the helmet?”

He can hear the hesitation in your reply, even distorted and tinny through the metal speakers. “Uh…I, well…”

Now that you’re getting a good look at them, the two scarred faces in front of you seem weirdly intense, considering you’ve just saved them from a collapsed building. The dark-haired man’s eyes are…very, very blue next to the burned-looking skin underneath, and the other man’s greyish-blue hair isn’t quite long enough to obscure a pair of red irises that are scrutinizing your face with obvious hostility.

You give a nervous shake of your head to clear it. “Um, the helmet is…it’s dangerous if I take it off. I should get you guys back to the rescue area, I need to meet up with my hero…” Without thinking, you take a step back and then one more, not knowing exactly why you’re backing away when you’re supposed to be escorting them. “I’ll just lead the way?”

With your third step back, though, you bump into something hard. What was that? Your head jerks around but before you can identify what it is that stopped your retreat, you feel the faint sensation of something tapping lightly on the back of your helmet.

And then…it just…crumbles.

What just happened?

You cough and shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of dust. A breeze whips through your hair, sending a chill through you in more ways than one. How? No one pulled the helmet off; you would’ve felt it if they had. More dust sticks to your face, and you rub your eyes so you can open them.

Behind you, Shigaraki waits with outstretched fingers an inch away from your neck. If he had to explain the decision to decay your helmet strategically, he could—you’re a hero, a potential threat, and he wants to know what you’re hiding under that outfit just in case you figure out who they are and decide to turn on them.

But really? He didn’t think about it that much. It was an impulse reaction to you walking away from them; a tantrum. Child-like.

Once your stunned face is exposed, Dabi has to wonder what you were even trying to hide. You’re…surprisingly ordinary. Young-looking—a rookie, fresh from hero school graduations a few weeks ago maybe? Large, expressive eyes, lips parted in shock, but nothing particularly interesting. Shigaraki cocks his head to the side to study your face too, and both of them are so focused on your appearance that it takes a moment for them to notice the feeling.

Well, feeling isn’t really the right word, but there isn’t a word for the way your quirk works. Dabi’s eyes widen when it reaches him and behind you, Shigaraki stiffens. You notice.

There’s an involuntary quiver in your voice as you break the silence. “Y-You guys must have strong quirks if you can feel it just from that.”

Dabi sucks in a breath. So this is your quirk? It’s different…he’s never felt anything like it, not that he’s exactly sure what it is. There’s some kind of energy in the air around you that he’s breathing in, a feeling like taking a shot of espresso after days of sleep deprivation.

No, it’s stronger than that. The head rush after doing a line of cocaine would be a better metaphor.

Either way, he’s awake—more awake than he can remember feeling in a long time. Heat rises to the surfaces of his palms unbidden, his quirk appearing without him calling it. “What is this?”

“…It’s called Boost,” you say, licking your lips as a dry wave of heat radiates out from the man in front of you. “I can strengthen other people’s quirks. That’s why it’s dangerous—if the villain finds us—“

“It must have been hard to get through hero school with a quirk like that,” says a raspy voice from behind you.

What—? Your head twists around. When did he—

Shigaraki grips your shoulder with three fingers, holding just tightly enough to keep you from stumbling forward and away from him. His pinky and ring finger hover an inch over your costume, careful not to disintegrate the fabric he’s touching—although with the power sparking through his veins at the moment, it almost feels like three fingers would be enough.

“…Doesn’t really seem like the kind of quirk a hero has.” His voice, soft and pondering (a weird contrast to the harsh architecture of his facial features you’d seen earlier), feels very close to your ear. Something soft tickles your cheek. His hair?

A voice (an instinct?) deep inside of you is telling you to run. You ignore it. This is normal, right? It’s not uncommon for civilians who’ve just suffered a traumatic villain attack to have questions, even if those questions seem irrelevant to the situation at hand. You have to answer, even if your gut is churning. “I’m not really a hero. Not yet. For now, I’m a sidekick to one of the pros—and speaking of which, I really need to find—“

“But how does it work?” Dabi doesn’t notice himself making a conscious decision to step forward, but he does anyway and being closer to you feels right. He can see the trepidation on your face as he gets close enough to reach out and touch you, but you can’t really ask him to stay back, can you? Not when your quirk feels this good?

“I—“ Is it unreasonable that you think you’re being trapped right now? They’re just a couple of civilians, right? The question itself is common enough. People often wonder how you can be a hero. It’s a concern you’ve had to address dozens of times over the years. “Well, I work with rescue operations, especially with other heroes who have healing-type quirks. I can also assist in combat in some situations.”

“In combat? If you’re with a hero and a villain, you’ll enhance both quirks. Seems counterintuitive,” Dabi says, half aware that his voice is getting lower.

“And you clearly don’t have physical abilities. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…these.” Shigaraki taps three fingers on the metal brace on your right arm.

“The effects can be unpredictable. And I can increase the degree of the enhancement with physical contact.”

“Contact?”

“Yeah. The gloves of my costume come off. My quirk is way stronger when it’s skin-to-skin.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Shigaraki’s ring finger and pinky, which were hovering over the arm brace, come down to rest on the cold metal. The effect is instant: no crumbling, no slow decay—it’s there, and then it’s dust. His quirk in action, boosted by yours.

“What—What are you doing? What did you just do?” You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight by your collar. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, and in one long sloppy stroke, he licks you from your neck up to your jawline.

You shudder. So does Shigaraki.

“It’s my quirk,” he tells you slowly. His breath is steamy warm on the cold, wet trail of saliva painting your throat. “Decay. Have you heard of it?”

You flinch away from his hand and your back falls against his chest. Of course you’ve heard of the Decay quirk. You might be a rookie, but even civilians know about the young, impetuous head of the League of Villains. Jesus, how had you not recognized him earlier? White hair, red eyes…you should have known. You should have left him under that beam. “Shigaraki…Tomura.”

“So you’re not completely clueless. Do you know me, then?” Dabi asks. He would think he’s the more noticeable of the two (the burn scars usually identify him), but you just stare up at him with the same deer-in-the-headlights look as before. Smirking, he lights a blue fire in his palm and it jumps up toward your face—not just the small spark he intended, but a bright, high flame. “Maybe this will help you remember.”

“The Forest of Beasts incident. You’re the one who started that fire,” you whisper. You’ve seen the TV coverage of the attack on UA’s training camp, the abduction of that teenage student, the forest lit up blue from wildfire. No wonder his skin looks burned.

“Dabi,” he corrects you.

Breath is coming out of your mouth in shallow puffs. Are you hyperventilating? Is this what hyperventilating feels like? You’re definitely panicking. They’re so close to you, caging you in between them. The smoke from the blue fire is uncomfortably hot over the exposed skin of your face, and Shigaraki’s lethal hands are still touching you. If they want to kill you—and why wouldn’t they?—you’re fucked.

The flame goes out and Dabi’s hands come down to squeeze your wrists. His palms are hot like he was holding them in front of a lit stove. It’s not painful, but it’s a threat.

“I’ll fight,” you say.

Your voice is trembling, and Shigaraki likes it. The effects of your quirk, the way he felt when he licked your face… And you’re afraid. He can see it in your shoulders, the quivering of your torso pressed into him. It’s nice. He wants to feel it more.

You’re struggling against their hold, and Dabi feels the urge to laugh. “You’ll fight…the two of us.”

“If you try to kill me, I’ll—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Shigaraki’s hands flit down to your metal support gear and disintegrate it. Shit. He’s fast, and you’re helpless.

Dabi releases your wrists and cups your face in a mockery of intimacy. His eyelids flutter closed as his skin meets yours… Fuck, he could get used to this. You smell so good, sweet and soft and clean, like fruity shampoo. What is that, watermelon?

Life must be difficult for you, hm… Everyone around you must want to touch you constantly. It seems like Shigaraki enjoyed licking you—maybe bodily fluids are an even stronger conductor of your quirk? Pushing easily past your resistance, Dabi forces your jaw upward and kisses you.

Oh…yesyesyes, just like that. Perfect. Dabi has to bite down a groan as his tongue enters your mouth. It’s ridiculous for someone else’s spit to taste this good, but he’s right—your quirk is amplified by the contact from the kiss.

After a moment he has to break it to regain focus and make sure he’s not burning you. You cringe away from him, your cheek brushing against Shigaraki’s neck, but Dabi tangles his hand in your hair to pull you back. He runs a finger against your closed lips, letting the pad of his fingertip heat up until your mouth drops open in response to the threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, voice laced with revulsion. Privately, you agree. What’s going on? You were sure you were about to be either burned to a crisp or decayed into the equivalent.

Dabi laughs under his breath. “Try it. It feels crazy good.”

Curious now, Shigaraki wrenches your head around and tilts your jaw up to repeat Dabi’s action. When you refuse to open your mouth, he taps your jaw warningly and a hiss of fear escapes you. Would he really kill you? He decayed your support gear so quickly—would it be the same for your body?

Well, what’s going to stop them?

You open your mouth.

Shigaraki’s lips are harsh and unsentimental against yours. His tongue sweeps over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He grips you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold with your head twisted toward his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. His spit—it’s in your mouth.

And Dabi’s hands are on your waist. “How do you get this thing off?” he murmurs, pinching the fabric of your bodysuit.

A surge of panicked adrenaline gives you the strength to pull back away from Shigaraki. “What? No, you can’t!”

“Are you going to stop us, little sidekick?” Dabi mocks. “I think I can burn it off without too much damage.”

“Let me.” Shigaraki takes hold of the cloth, careful so when it dissolves into dust his hand isn’t touching you, and within a second—a second—you’re left shivering in just your underwear and boots.

“Help!” The plea squeaks out and you hope blindly that there’s a hero close enough to hear you. But is there even anyone who can fight them? You certainly can’t. “Help me! Somebody!”

“Shut up.” Dabi sends up a tongue of flame from a fingertip and you shriek as the heat sears against you. “Oh, come on. You should feel lucky. Bad guys like us usually don’t hesitate to take heroes out.”

“I don’t— Please, I’m just a sidekick, I’m a rookie— What do you even want from me? Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go.”

“Well, I think I know what I want.” Dabi traces circles over the tender skin of your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear. He meets Shigaraki’s eye over your shoulder. “I think he wants that too. Right?”

“Yeah, I want…I want to fuck her,” Shigaraki hums. This isn’t like him, but he can’t help himself. You’re different. Leaving you here and never feeling this stimulant again isn’t an option. He buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, bites down on the soft skin there, and sucks.

You whimper, half from his answer and half from the sensation of his chapped lips on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you smell like something I want to eat. Especially this.” Dabi kneels down in front of you and hitches one of your legs up over his shoulder so you feel his hot breath washing over your clothed pussy.

You whine and attempt to wriggle back away from him, but Dabi’s grip on your thigh holds firm. His other hand brushes against the fabric of your panties to rub up against your slit and another surge of panic jumps up your throat. You can’t let him do this.

You kick your foot against his back, desperately attempting to make contact using the heel of the high boot that’s the only piece of outerwear still left on your body. It hits him awkwardly and he growls. “Damn it. Can’t you keep her busy?”

“Ahh…” Shigaraki ceases his oral assault on your neck and scratches a fingernail against one of the bright red marks marring your skin. He feels almost dizzy from the way your quirk is affecting him. Behind him, the broken expanse of wall digging into his back is the only thing keeping his focus. “Behave, sidekick.”

Before you can respond to the mocking title, Shigaraki’s face is against yours and his tongue is in your mouth again. Rough fingertips work up under the band of your sports bra and pushes it up over your tits. You screw your eyes shut at the sudden feeling of cold air on your nipples, and you know without looking that they’re standing up. Shigaraki gropes you thoughtlessly, keeping one finger lifted off of your skin, and you gasp on his tongue.

“That’s better.” Dabi’s mouth returns to brush against your panties. To be honest, eating you out isn’t the first thing on his mind. What he wants—what he really wants—is to shove you up against the wall and fuck into you and find out what your quirk feels like when you’re wrapped around his cock. But you’re probably not wet enough for that, and it’s not like Shigaraki is going to do anything to take care of you. Dabi would be surprised if the other man’s ever eaten pussy before in his life.

Besides…you smell good. It’s not even just the feeling of your quirk exciting him. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy is inches away from him, and Dabi is dying to make you cum in his mouth.

A moan curls up from deep in your throat as Dabi caresses the lips of your pussy through your underwear. You don’t bother protesting—at this point, it’s unlikely that any plea you could muster would stop them. Your earlier begging didn’t do much besides spur them on, but you still cry out as softly as you can when an unnaturally warm fingertip slips under the cloth of your panties to dip into your slit.

“Oh? You’re wetter than I expected. Are you enjoying this?”

Your frantic denial falls on deaf ears. Shigaraki rasps out a laugh and bites down on your neck again. He’s supposed to be keeping you still, but he can’t help enjoying the way your almost-naked body feels as you press yourself back into his chest, trying to force some space between yourself and Dabi.

Your squirming is no problem for Dabi, though—you’re so soft and vulnerable and the velvety skin of your inner thigh looks so delicious… He nuzzles against the area of bare skin and latches on to it, sucking until he’s sure you’re going to have a mark in a few minutes. The thought of leaving hickeys on you like a teenager is sickeningly nostalgic. You’re probably going to try to forget this when they’re done, aren’t you? But you won’t be able to, not when you’re covered in love bites and bruises. You’re going to be marked up for weeks.

Fuck, he’s hard.

Too impatient to bother taking off your panties, Dabi just pushes them aside to gain access to your damp cunt. His fingers feel hot—too hot, almost unbearably hot; you feel like you could melt into a puddle and your pussy is certainly slick enough as he pets your clit and slides one finger in, then two… You whimper and shake your head, silently denying what’s happening to you. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but Dabi’s fingers quickly find that rough patch inside of you that makes you want to beg like an animal. You hate it, but it feels good.

“She’s so tight,” Dabi says with something like awe in his voice. You can hear Shigaraki panting behind your back.

“Get on with it,” Shigaraki says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

For a second you just feel Dabi’s humid breath against your dripping cunt before he closes the space between the two of you and his tongue slides onto you, laving over your cunt to come to a rest on your clit. A sound you’ve never heard yourself make before forces its way out of your mouth as Dabi eats you out in earnest, rubbing his tongue against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Your head rolls back onto Shigaraki’s shoulder. You feel like crying for a million reasons at once. Maybe you’re already crying—the sounds you’re making are almost like sobs. You want him to stop. You never want him to stop. Your hands twitch as you fight the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your thighs.

“Fuck, oh fuck, no stop please stop, ah…!” The stream of gibberish coming out of your mouth crescendoes into a real sob as you feel your climax coming. No—you can’t—you can’t cum here, in this broken-down bar, on the tongue of a villain, but it doesn’t matter that you can’t, because you’re going to cum anyway.

“Please don’t, please let me go—“ You writhe uncontrollably as the desire to cum sweeps over you, but Dabi just curls one arm around your thigh and pulls his face away so he can push his fingers back in, angling his palm to grind roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm wet softness of his tongue is enough to push you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Dabi’s fingers as he works them in and out of you.

Unable to support yourself, you crumple like paper, and only the two villains you’re sandwiched between keep you upright.

“Fucking finally,” Shigaraki growls, and he pushes you down so your knees scrape painfully into the rubble. Your earlier resistance was cute, but so is your dazed compliance as he pulls your hips up to meet his.

“You’re going first?” Dabi asks incredulously. After he did all that work getting you off? No way.

“You can use her mouth,” Shigaraki tells him. His cock is straining against his pants and he groans as he releases it and rubs it over your panties. He could decay them, but…they’re cute. Pale pink, peach-pink, except for the wet spot over your cunt. Precum is already dribbling out of his cock as he pulls your panties to the side and lines it up with your pussy. Jesus-fucking-christ, you’re wet, sopping and slimy. Doesn’t that mean you’re begging to get filled up? Shigaraki hears himself sigh as he slides the head of his cock up and down your slit so it’ll be wet enough to go in.

You’re still out of it, dizzy from your orgasm and the tension of the situation, but you snap back to your senses with the feeling of something hard pushed up to your entrance. “Wait!” you yelp for what feels like the hundredth time. The gravel scattered over the wreckage where you’ve been forced onto your hands and knees digs painfully into your flesh as you pull away from Shigaraki, but he holds fast to your hips with pinkies raised.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi admonishes with a grin, as if he’s reprimanding a dog for not coming when called. He settles himself in front of your front and kneels again. Your hair is mussed but still silky soft and he takes a moment to enjoy the way the strands slip over his skin before he tangles his fingers close to your scalp and yanks your head in his direction, forcing your cheek to chafe against the crotch of his pants. It’s not difficult to tell what the the thick bulge is through the fabric, and you try to flinch away only to be caught again and immobilized.

“You’re going to take care of us,” Dabi tells you. “Like I took care of you. Okay?”

No, it’s not okay, it’s absolutely not okay, and you would say so if you didn’t see Dabi’s expression darken at your obvious denial and feel a wave of acrid heat coming from his hand in your hair. The smell is worse than the feeling, honestly—you’ve had enough run-ins with hair curlers and flat irons to recognize the smell of hair when it’s three seconds away from burning. “Okay! Okay,” you answer, panicked, voice muffled by the fabric of Dabi’s pants.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and the heat fades.

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Shigaraki says from behind you.

“Then don’t.”

You whine, too scared to try to get away again or even plead with them to let you go, but it doesn’t matter. Shigaraki’s cock presses into your pussy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him as he slides into you, inch by inch, torturously slow. Is there anything to bite down on? You need to do something, anything to distract from the pain of Shigaraki’s cock stretching you out. He’s big, impossibly big.

Eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip until you can taste copper and scrabble around blindly until your hand finds loose fabric to grip. It’s something of Dabi’s, probably the coat he’s wearing if you remember correctly, but your brain isn’t exactly working right at the moment—

“You were right…shit, she’s…she’s so fucking tight.” Shigaraki’s voice is low and labored with the effort of not thrusting into you all at once. “Feels like…she’s trying to push me out…”

Fuck it, he thinks. Would it really be so bad if he did push all the way into you in one stroke? It’s better to just get it over with, isn’t it? Yeah…you’d probably prefer him to do it quickly. And besides, he can’t wait another second to feel you all the way up to the base of his cock.

Your strangled whimper is drowned out by his satisfied groan as he shoves the rest of the way into you in a single sudden thrust. The pain knocks the breath out of you in a gasp, and your eyes fly open as you clutch Dabi’s coat like a lifeline.

“It hurts—!”

“Yeah…yeah, I bet it does,” Shigaraki pants, holding your hips steady as he thrusts in and out of you. The bored nonchalance of earlier is gone, replaced by a feral intensity as his cock carves its way through your pussy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think there’s something affectionate in his voice.

For Shigaraki’s part, he can hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped over his dick. It’s taking every vestige of concentration he has left to make sure he’s holding a single finger on each hand away from your skin. It’s pure bliss. Your body was made to be fucked like this. He wants to live inside your pussy, he wants to do this every day, every minute. Fucking you raw is the best he’s felt in months…years. And it doesn’t hurt that your quirk is still working on him, still sending pleasurable shocks of energy that make him feel simultaneously like he could keep you pinned down for hours and like he could cum any second.

“Oh, she’s crying,” Dabi says, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You flinch and try to jerk your head away, but his hand is still holding you by your hair and he’s so much stronger than you are. They both are, even without using their quirks. “Look at me.”

You comply, more by reflex than any real desire to obey. It’s pretty striking to Dabi how cute you look as Shigaraki pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath. Your eyes are glittering with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto Dabi’s coat like your life depends on it. It’s almost like you’re pulling him closer. Adorable.

“She can…take it,” Shigaraki responds breathily between thrusts. “Such a good whore, taking my big cock in her tight little pussy…”

The backhanded compliment jars you and you feel hot tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m—not—a—whore,” you manage to say, each word punctuated with Shigaraki’s skin slapping against yours.

“Really?” Shigaraki’s pace slows and he leans closer to you so he can reach an arm around and swirl two fingers against your clit. You mewl like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation and he laughs rudely. “Feels so good…can’t believe the heroes don’t want to fuck you like this all the time…”

You shake your head desperately and bury your face in Dabi’s chest, barely noticing him stroking your hair and then reaching down to unzip his pants.

“No, no, I bet that’s what you do as a sidekick, right?” Shigaraki’s thrusts are back to frenzied jerks, and he rubs over your clit just as roughly. “Spread your legs for your hero…you’d make a great personal cocksleeve. Or maybe they rotate you around so every pro hero gets a turn…?”

“No, I don’t! No! Ah— ahnnn…” The denials pierce the air uselessly as the villain’s cock fills you up again and again. You’re not a whore, you’re not…even if it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of Shigaraki teasing your clit in time with his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. It still hurts—he’s so big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had sex with before, but there’s no way you’re going to admit to yourself that it’s starting to feel good.

“…Is my cock better than All Might’s?” Shigaraki’s words are cut off by his own grunt of pleasure as your cunt twitches around him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi cuts in. “I’m sick of hearing a guy’s voice moaning. I’m going to get soft.”

Past the point of comprehending the situation, you look up at him gratefully, only to reel back in shock as Dabi frees his own cock from his pants and it brushes against your cheek. Trying to pull away from him is more instinct than rational thought, but he holds you just as easily as before and forces two fingers into your mouth. You tense, ready to bite down, (and hopefully take a few knuckles off) but he sees it coming and suddenly your mouth is horribly burning hot.

“You’re going to suck my cock now,” says Dabi conversationally, extinguishing the flame almost as soon as he started it. It’s not so bad—probably more like a coffee burn than anything else—but you’re coughing and spitting anyway. “Say yes.”

“…Yes,” you whisper, voice barely intelligible.

“Good little sidekick. And you’re going to be very careful. You’re not going to use teeth.”

You nod, unable to mount a defense with Shigaraki mercilessly fucking you from behind.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal as Shigaraki finds a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“Good.” Dabi drags your head down to hover over his cock and massages your jaw until it falls open. “Suck.”

One of his hands falls to your shoulder to try to stabilize you, but you can’t help feeling the threat in the motion. You quickly duck down and attempt to ignore the heady smell of sweat and precum as you trace your tongue up the underside of his dick. He’s big too, maybe thicker than Shigaraki, and you hate yourself for feeling lucky that it’s not this cock inside your pussy right now.

The stunt Dabi pulled burning your mouth made you salivate, and you let drool coat your tongue as you lick around the head. But it’s not working—you rock forward every time Shigaraki stuffs his dick back in your aching pussy, and Dabi’s cock smears over your mouth haphazardly.

“I said suck. Not lick.” Suddenly (although you don’t know why you keep expecting some kind of warning before these villains find a new way to violate you), Dabi grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock into your mouth. Your throat constricts involuntarily as the thick head triggers your gag reflex, and all three of you shiver in unison.

“Do…do that again,” Shigaraki says, voice strained. “She tightens up…when you do that.”

Dabi smirks and thrusts into you again, relishing the warm, humid cavern of your throat around his cock along with the pure swell of energy from your quirk enhancing his. His rhythm matches Shigaraki’s and his cock hits the back of your throat with every rapid pump, making you gag and clench like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. What a perfect little slut… He can see from Shigaraki’s sloppy movements that you’re squeezing around his cock every time too.

The feeling of having one villain cock buried in your pussy while another ravages your throat is unthinkable, even more so with Shigaraki’s fingers on your clit coaxing out an earth-shaking orgasm. But you’d almost be able to forget what’s happening—god knows you’re delirious with sensation, barely able to keep track of who’s doing what to you—if not for the sound. The wet slap of Shigaraki’s hips against your ass, the horrible squelching from your (dripping wet, even if you don’t want to admit it) pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you, your choked moans and gagging noises, and above it all, the unrestrained voices of the villains fucking into you.

You feel like a fuck toy, a sex doll, used without mercy by the two most evil people you can think of…and you’re about to cum.

Your voice is getting louder by the second, and the pulsing of your cunt around Shigaraki’s cock is telling him exactly how close you are. He curls his body over yours to get a better angle to rub your clit, enjoying your high-pitched whine in response. “Yeah…that’s right…good girl. Cum on my cock…like a good little sidekick.”

You keen and goosebumps rise on your skin as Shigaraki licks at the sheen of sweat on your back. He feels your climax almost as soon as you do… If your scream wasn’t stifled by Dabi’s dick in your mouth, everyone within a one-mile radius would know you were getting fucked silly, yeah? The walls of your pussy clamp down on Shigaraki’s cock, your body begging for his cum, and he grips your ass to make sure you can’t get away as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you.

Fuck… Shigaraki could die right now and be happy. He keeps stroking your clit, knowing it’s cruel, knowing you’ll be overstimulated and sensitive and that it’ll hurt to keep touching you like this after you already came, and not caring because every time the tips of his fingers push that little magic button, you shiver and squeeze him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

Shigaraki gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into your body, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then finally pulls out. The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene. So is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulls it away. He loves it.

Knowing that Shigaraki came—inside you, no less, the inconsiderate bastard—Dabi grips the back of your head and tugs you down to deepthroat him. Your walls twitch involuntarily and Dabi groans, letting himself shoot his load down your throat. “Yes…yeah…yeah…just like that. Swallow.”

You don’t swallow. You don’t do anything but gag on his cum and gasp as he thrusts into you. Dabi pulls you off of him, annoyed and ready to threaten you into submission again…until your head lolls to the side and he can see that your eyes are closed.

“Shit, she passed out.”

“…What? Are you kidding?”

Dabi slaps your face lightly. You wince in your sleep but don’t wake up. “Nope. Must’ve been when she came the second time.”

“Is she…” Shigaraki trails off, not sure how to end the question. ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly right.

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of them wait for a moment, but you don’t move. When he catches his breath, Shigaraki wipes off his dick and pulls up his pants. Dabi does the same. Without them holding you, you flop down into the fetal position on the broken concrete. “What now?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You tell me, leader. I’m surprised Kurogiri hasn’t opened another warp gate to get you back. Guessing you don’t have your phone either?”

“…We can go to Giran’s place to meet up. They’re probably waiting for us there,” Shigaraki says, scratching at his neck.

“Do you have cab fare?”

“I don’t have my wallet on me. You?”

“Not enough for a cab. We’ll have to take the train. You can owe me.”

Shigaraki looks down at you. You make a pitiful scene, naked except for your boots, sports bra, and cum-soaked panties. Your neck is bruised red and purple, and you’re shaking, shivering in the cool air now that the sun has sunk further toward the horizon and you’re not being touched. “Are we going to leave her here?”

“What, you want to bring her on the train with us? You don’t think that’s gonna look suspicious?”

“Well…” Their eyes meet and Shigaraki knows Dabi’s thinking the same thing he is. You have a lot of potential as an asset. They haven’t even had the chance to see how your quirk boosting works in combat, but Shigaraki almost wants to pick a fight just to give it a try.

And fighting power aside, Shigaraki isn’t a fan of the possibility that he’ll never get to fuck you again.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s a pro hero’s sidekick. She can’t be too hard to find.” Dabi shrugs off his coat and crouches next to you. You’re limp enough that he has no trouble lifting you into his lap and guiding your arms through the sleeves of his coat. Once you’re wrapped in the black fabric, he does up the buttons, combs through your hair with his fingers, wipes the mixed cum and spittle off your chin, and admires his handiwork. Sure, anyone looking closely at you will know at least a little about what happened—you’re still sweating in the cold, you have that undeniable ‘just got fucked’ look all over you, and the smell of sex is overpowering. But at least you won’t have to walk back to the rescue tent in your filthy underwear.

In your sleep, you nuzzle into Dabi’s chest, reaching blindly toward the source of warmth. He grins and strokes the back of your neck, soothing warm fingers over the bruised skin there and enjoying his last opportunity to touch you and feel your quirk working…for now, at least. “You know, I wonder why villains don’t get sidekicks. Seems a little unfair, right?”

Shigaraki’s sneer matches Dabi’s as he bends down to run his fingernails over your cheek, almost hard enough to hurt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[kkodzvken]

where you let it go - hawks x g.n. reader

this is my fic for @doinmybesthere​‘s mental health collab (mlist here). thank you so much emme for hosting! 

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, unspecified mental health issues, involuntary commitment, panic attack, a bit of depersonalization

a/n: i wrote this from my own personal experiences, so it’s in no way indicative of what all treatment is like. i was also hospitalized by my parents when i was a minor so i don’t really know about involuntary commitment for adults, so i’m sorry if this was inaccurate. this was incredibly therapeutic — i wrote what i needed to hear back then. and please please please, know that your mental health is so important, and there is nothing braver than getting help. title cred: where you let it go by i the mighty

w/c: 1.7k

They’re all too loud.

The voices rise up around you. They crash against each other, echoing against the sterile white walls and ceilings. They feed off each other like carnivorous beasts, and they sink their claws into your ears, dig their teeth into your flesh and leave scratches against your marrow.

They’re too fucking loud.

You want to leave. You want to leave, but you can’t. And besides, wasn’t this supposed to help? Wasn’t this supposed to make you better? You should be reveling in all the noise, letting the voices seep into your ears and wash away the awful sounds in your brain. But they don’t cancel each other out – they just amplify each other, until it’s too loud for you to think, to breathe.

Your lungs feel like they’re encased in ice. Someone’s saying something – a nurse, asking about your medication history – but his voice is washed away in the sea of noise that surrounds you. You try to breathe, but your chest is filled with sticky tar. You try to respond, to spit out whatever they want to hear so they’ll leave you alone, but the tar rises up into your windpipe and settles into your voice box.

You want to leave. You need to leave, but you can’t.

Your mind isn’t in your body anymore. You aren’t in your body anymore. The sounds are still assaulting your eardrums, and you still feel everything so vividly. But it isn’t you. This isn’t you.

Is that you? This person, is that you? You stare down at your hands in an attempt to ground yourself, but it does just the opposite. You stare at your hands, but they are not your own. You know, you know how impossible that is. But the longer you stare, the more not-yours they become.

You can feel the tar rising up in your throat, turning into acidic bile that corrodes at your cells, but they’re not your cells. You’re looking down at your body, but it belongs to someone else. That person is not you – that person, staring blankly down at their hands as they’re surrounded by a hurricane of voices and nurses – that person is not you.

This was supposed to help. It was supposed to make you better, but after only a day, you’re already spiraling into a state that’s much worse. You hate everything about this place. You hate the smell of disinfectant that burns your nose, and the harsh white lights that burn your eyes. You hate the rituals and rules. You hate feeling eyes on you at all times. The constant supervision feels like a rope around your neck. It’s fucking miserable.

“Mx. Y/N, please. We can’t make any progress if you don’t work with us.”

“I don’t want to work with you,” you spit out. “I want to go home.”

The nurse sighs. He places his pen and clipboard down on his lap. “I understand how you feel, but you know –”

“How the fuck do you understand how I feel?” Your voice is dripping with venom. All of the fear and anger of the past days – no, the past weeks, months, years – reaches a fever pitch. The steady beeping of the machines by your bedside makes your head throb, but you ignore the pain as you push yourself off the bed. “I’m going home.”

You only make it a few steps before the two other nurses in the room rush to your side. Their hands are cold, and they dig into your arms when they grab you. Bile rises up in your throat. You try and twist out of their grasps, but they’re too strong, and your head hurts too badly.

That doesn’t stop you from trying. “Let me go!” you shout. You hate how shrill your voice sounds. The nurses act as if they can’t hear you. They march you back towards the bed, but you twist and thrash and try to make for the door. “Let me go, let me go, let me GO!”

“Baby?”

Your head shoots up at the sound of his voice. “K-Kei!”

He stands in the doorway, clutching a duffel bag in one hand and your favorite stuffed animal in the other, but he quickly drops everything and rushes towards you. The nurses must loosen their grips, because you’re finally able to twist away from them. You collide against his body, and with his strong arms wrapped around you, you finally feel like you can breathe again.

You don’t know when you started crying, but tears are freely falling down your face now. You bury yourself into his chest, holding him as close and as tight as you possibly can. “Keigo,” you sob out. “Keigo, I wanna go home, please take me home.”

He pulls you impossibly closer and presses little kisses against the top of your head. “Oh, angel,” he breathes. He shifts and picks you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his hips and he wraps his wings around your body like you have a thousand times before. It should bring you comfort, but it just reminds you of how wrong this feels. You should be in your shared home, not this hospital with its overwhelming smells and sounds.

“Home,” you cry out again.

He coos softly. “Oh, angel, you know that I can’t do that.”

You ball your hands into fists and grab at his shirt, tugging at it while your sobs intensify. “I don’t wanna be here, Kei, please.”

“I don’t want this either, honey. But you need this.”

“No! I need to go home! I need them to leave me alone!”

He turns to the nurses. “Can we have a moment alone, please? I promise that I’ll keep them safe, and call if anything happens.”

The nurses look at each other doubtfully, but eventually nods their heads and file out of the room. Keigo turns his full attention back to you. “Cry it out, angel,” he says as he sways your bodies gently. “Let it all out. I’m here, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

He holds you as sobs rack through your body, as you wail and scream and thump your fists against his back. When you finally retreat from the safety of his shirt, you’re sure that you look disgusting. Your eyes are red and puffy, and your face is covered in snot and tears. But he still looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He lowers himself onto the bed and holds you in his lap, your legs straddling him and your face resting against his neck.

“I know it sucks, angel,” he starts. “But don’t—”

“Please don’t lecture me,” you interrupt. You hate how small and weak your voice sounds. “I know that I have to stay here. I know they’ll help me get better. But I don’t want to, Kei. I want to go home with you. Can’t I just get better at home?”

His expression is painfully gentle as he cups your face in his big hands and smiles at you. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, baby.”

“I know, but I can do it myself–”

“No you can’t,” he says bluntly. “You can’t get better by yourself. And I can’t help you get better by myself. We need real help.”

You whine and turn your head, not wanting to look him in the eyes. “…I know. But I still don’t want to.”

“Both of those things can be true,” he says. “You can hate it, and still do it and know that you need it. It’ll suck, but hey, look at it this way. The more you cooperate, the faster you’ll get better, and the faster you’ll be able to come home to me.”

You bury your face back into his shoulder. You don’t want him to see the tears that are threatening to leak out of your eyes again. “I-I’ll miss you. I couldn’t sleep last night. It was…It was wrong, not having you next to me.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, and your chest pangs at the sound of his voice breaking. “I couldn’t sleep either. But I’ll visit you every day, alright? I’ll stay as long as I can, until they kick me out. And then I’ll call you until they kick us off the phone.”

“It’s not the same.” You feel childish when you whine and complain like this, but you can’t help it. The concept of being hospitalized, of being locked up away from Keigo and everything else important in your life, is terrifying. “When…when do you think I can come home?”

“They said they’ll let you go out if you’re good, right?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention yesterday,” you admit sheepishly.

He chuckles and presses another kiss against your forehead. “It’s okay, angel, I was listening. I’ll double check, but I think that I’m allowed to bring you out for a few hours if you stick with your plan. Let’s look forward to that, okay? We can go home and watch a movie, or we can go on a date somewhere nice. Whatever you want.”

“Home,” you mumble. “Wanna snuggle with you on our bed.”

You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your hair, and it makes you smile a little too. “Well,” he says, repositioning himself onto his back and dragging you along with him. “It’s not the same, but we can watch a movie now! They didn’t let me bring your laptop in, but we can watch on my phone.”

You snuggle into his side and rest your head on his chest. The steady sound of his heartbeat is comforting, and it helps to cancel out all of the other horrible sounds enveloping you. You’re still terrified, but with his arms and wings wrapped around you, and the reassuring warmth of him against you, you feel a bit safer, and a bit less scared.

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Please don’t leave me,” you say. “Please…please don’t go. I know that I’m fucked up, and I’m a hassle, and that I make things difficult for you. I’m sorry. But please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” he says. He leans his forehead against yours and gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I promise. I’ll stay with you forever. You’re not fucked up. Your struggles don’t make me think any less of you. They don’t make you any less lovable. I promise, baby, I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my everything, and I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

[cuddlepilefics]

Please Help

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Changbin

Caregiver: Minho

Changbin gets sick and while trying to hide it gets into an argument with Minho, who might be the only one there to take care of him.

Changbin’s POV.:

It was getting closer to four in the morning and I have yet to fall asleep. For some reason, my stomach had started to hurt pretty bad at some point during the late evening. I couldn’t tell whether it was something I ate but I knew if it wouldn’t get better soon, I wouldn’t get any sleep before having to get up for our schedule. Dance practice, something I really wasn’t looking forward to at the moment. Even if my stomach got better by then, I’d be way too tired for the intense choreographies we’d be working on. Just thinking about all the fast turns and jumps made my stomach churn uneasily. Considering there was no use in laying in bed stressing out, I slowly got up. Maybe some tea would settle my stomach, so I could get at least a tiny bit of sleep. I had to be carefully as I felt a bit queasy if I moved to fast. Wrapping one arm around my aching middle, I shuffled to the kitchen. I didn’t feel like turning on the ceiling lights as they were way to bright, so I ended up using my phone’s flashlight to find my way. After I turned on the kettle, I grabbed my favorite cup and popped in a bag of ginger tea. My mother once told me it helped with nausea and I prayed it really would because being up and moving made me feel increasingly queasy. Waiting for the water to boil, I moved a bit closer to the sink, unsure if the odd feeling at the back of my throat was just a fluke. My mouth was watering a little, which worried me quite a bit. If this got bad enough to make me throw up, I probably wouldn’t be better in a few hours, when we’d have to head out.

I was so distracted worrying, that I almost missed the water boiling. Snapping out of my thoughts, I prepare my tea before shakily making my way to the living room. The few minutes I had been standing seemed to have drained most of the energy I had left and I weakly plopped onto the couch, drawing my knees up to my chest. Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead on my knees and took a deep breath. By now, I was almost certain that I was sick. My head felt too light for me to just be tired and I highly doubted the dorm was as cold as it seemed to me. I couldn’t be sick now though. We were way too busy for me to take some time off. Usually, I’d be rather open about how I felt because I knew my friends would be by my side, comforting me until I felt better, but with how busy we were, I didn’t want to stress the rest of the group out. Completely forgetting about my tea on the coffee table, I sprawled out on the couch with my hand under my shirt, rubbing soft circles over my stomach. Exhausted, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened my eyes, it was already dawn and when I sat up, reaching for my tea, it was cold. My stomach didn’t hurt as badly anymore, though it was still a bit sore. Checking the time, I realized we’d have to get up in ten minutes anyway, so I disposed of my cold tea and went to get ready. It was a bit of a struggle because although my stomach had gotten a bit better, my head had become foggier and I stumbled around clumsily, probably waking most of the members already with all the noise.

No one’s POV.:

Though he was up earlier than his friends, Changbin took quite a while to get ready, spacing out frequently. It all made sense with the fever he was running but the rapper didn’t think to take his temperature. Knowing about his fever wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway, as he had already decided not to say anything and to go about his day as if nothing was wrong. Chan noticed the younger not being fully awake and made sure the rapper would have breakfast, knowing he’d need the energy for their dance practice. Changbin figured that maybe, if he was lucky, having some food would help settle his stomach further and maybe, just maybe, he’d feel less dizzy after eating something. He was quiet on their way to the company building, still trying to shake the fog in his head as he knew he’d have to be more than just focused if he wanted to keep up with their dances.

They were still warming up when Changbin realized, his breakfast had been a mistake. His stomach was churning again and he cursed himself for not skipping out on the meal. The rapper had no idea how he was supposed to dance like this, afraid he’d make himself sick with all the fast movements. “Changbin, wake up! We want to start now, so move”, Minho ordered. The members were already on their starting positions, all except for Changbin, who seemed to be in his own world. Startling, the rapper nodded and quickly got into position. He didn’t even know which song they’d dance to first and anxiously waited for the first beats. Today was not his day. Of course, Minho would start with the most complex choreography first, so they’d have the time to perfect it. He didn’t know how but Changbin managed to go over all the moves, being only slightly behind the beat. It wasn’t good enough though for him not to be called out by Minho, reminding him to speed his dancing up a little, so he’d keep up with the music. Barely paying attention to what his hyung was saying, the rapper nodded along as sweat ran down his back. His stomach cramped and he tried not to wince before he was forced to go back to his starting position, so they could give it another try.

About an hour in, Changbin wasn’t doing any better. His dancing was at least as off-beat as it was the first time and his moves grew increasingly sluggish. The rapper had already excused himself to the bathroom twice, feeling like he needed to be sick. He hadn’t thrown up and had made his way back to the practice room either times after accepting that it had been another false alarm. By now, Changbin contemplated just sticking his finger down his throat, as he’d probably feel better after getting everything out, so dancing wouldn’t torture him as much anymore. Pausing the music again, Minho sighed: “Bin, can you at least pretend you’re taking this seriously?” - “S-Sorry, hyung, I am”, the rapper apologized, trying to pull himself together. He just couldn’t focus, no matter how badly he wanted to. Changbin swallowed hard, fighting the rising nausea. “Well, you’re moves don’t really make it seem like you are”, Minho commented, “Put a little effort into it, would you?” Not daring to open his mouth, the younger nodded, making himself dizzy.

Minho’s POV.:

Changbin had been slacking off ever since we started and was really getting annoying. It didn’t look like he was even trying at all, his moves all over the place. The more time passed, the worse it got. We needed to get this perfect soon because one of the company’s choreographers would stop by towards the end of our practice to see how we were progressing, which in my dongsaeng’s case was backwards. Taking a deep breath to calm my temper, I reminded him: “Pull yourself together, Changbin, alright? Someone will watch our dance later and if you keep fooling around like this, all of us will get in trouble.” – “S-Sorry, I-I need the bathroom”, he stammered, already fleeing without giving me the chance to say anything else. I had lost track of how many times he had already escaped ‘to the bathroom’, probably trying to kill time till our practice was over. Giving Chan an exasperated look, I went on to help the rest of the members polish up their moves. The leader only shrugged, contemplating going after Changbin but by the time he had made up his mind, the rapper already returned. He took his time, getting a drink first before joining us in the middle of the room again, causing me to pinch the bridge of my nose and remind myself to stay calm for the sake of the other members. I was really irritated but needed to be professional, otherwise we’d make even less progress.

No one’s POV.:

The remainder of their practice session passed just the same and before they knew it, they were joined by the choreographer. Changbin blinked confused. He had forgotten they’d have a visitor, no matter how many times Minho reminded him. Swallowing convulsively, the rapper prayed his stomach would stay where it was. He hadn’t thrown up yet but the number of false alarms was ridiculous. Spacing out while the dance-racha talked to the choreographer, Changbin snuck a hand under his sweaty shirt to palm his cramping stomach. He couldn’t suppress a shudder, feeling chilled to the bone in his sweat-damp clothes. It was confusing really, how he could sweat that much when it was so cold in the practice room. They had surely turned the aircon down to arctic temperatures. Seeing the other members gather in the center of the room, Changbin dizzily made his way over and prayed he’d be able to get through the entire song. He really didn’t want to get sick or faint in front of everyone, especially now that someone else was present, expecting him to be professional. One of the jumps made his stomach lurch, acid rushing up his throat. The rapper panicked, gritting his teeth and quickly swallowing it back down, while trying to not miss a beat. In the end, he surprised himself by striking the ending pose without passing out, despite the black spots clouding his vision.

Still panting, Changbin saw the choreographer walk up to him. He could hear the other talking but couldn’t comprehend anything he said, too distracted by his stomach sloshing nauseatingly. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple as he nodded along to whatever the choreographer was saying, mainly focused on staying upright without puking on the other’s shoes. When the older finally stopped talking and bid the group goodbye, Changbin plopped down on the ground, assuming their practice was finally over. He was startled when a fuming Minho walked up to him. “Why couldn’t you just take it seriously earlier?”, the dancer spat, “I have so many other things to get done today and now I need to stay behind until you get it right.” Blinking at the older confused, Changbin muttered a tired: “What?” – “Didn’t you listen to a word he was saying? I really can’t believe you! You and I are forced to stay here until you get it right, so get up! We’re starting right now, no breaks just dancing because I also need to practice my vocals later and am not planning on staying here all night”, Minho snapped, grabbing his dongsaeng’s wrist and hauling him to his feet. Blacking out for a second when he was upright, Changbin swayed on his feet but managed not to fall.

The other members were already packing up their things while Minho got a drink before walking over to the sound system to start the music again. Sensing the tension, the group quietly left as they didn’t want to irritate Minho further. When the dancer turned around again, he had top realize that Changbin had slipped out of the room unnoticed. Angrily gritting his teeth, Minho paused the music and went to go look for his dongsaeng. Considering he hadn’t been gone for long, the rapper had to be somewhere close by, so Minho decided to check the practice room next to theirs. It was empty and closing the door again, the dancer’s eyes fell on the bathroom a little further down the hallway. His anger dissolved when he heard muffled sobs through the door, already assuming it had to be Changbin. Minho’s prediction was correct and he found the younger curled up against the far wall, feeling guilty as he could see now that the rapper hadn’t been fooling around but was actually struggling. Quietly sitting down next to his crying dongsaeng, the dancer draped his arm around the other’s shoulders. Changbin hadn’t even noticed his hyung walking in and startled when he was suddenly touched, flinching away. “Hey, ssh, it’s okay”, Minho hummed, finally taking a closer look at his friend. His heart broke when he noticed how pale the rapper looked, barely distinguishable from the wall behind him. His sweat-soaked practice clothes clung to him uncomfortably.

“I-I’m sorry”, Changbin whimpered, not looking up, “Hyung, I’m so s-sorry, please- Hyung, please he-help.” Trying to make eye contact with the younger, Minho promised: “It’s okay, Binnie, I will but you need to tell hyung how. What’s going on?” The rapper only choked on another sob, squeezing his eyes shut. Gently brushing back Changbin’s sweaty bangs, Minho cringed when he felt the heat radiating from his dongsaeng’s forehead. “You’re burning”, he stated sympathetically, “Haven’t felt well all day, hm?” The younger defeatedly shook his head, shifting and trying to get up. His face had taken on a slightly greenish tint, so Minho helped him up, getting the rapper settled in front of the toilet. “H-Hyung, I can’t”, Changbin muttered shakily, before ducking down with an unproductive gag. Comfortingly rubbing his back, Minho instructed: “Deep breaths, then explain what you can’t and how I can help.” The rapper coughed weakly before drawing in a shaky breath and admitting: “Can’t throw up. Always feel like it but nothing’s happening.” – “That’s why you’ve been running off all the time wasn’t it? I’m so sorry I never took the time to ask you if everything was alright”, Minho cooed regretfully. Nodding, Changbin tensed with another gag, hand going up to his throat that ached from the strain. Getting back up, the dancer promised: “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to get you some water. Maybe drinking something will speed things up. Just hang in there.”

Minho hurried to retrieve his dongsaeng’s water bottle from the practice room, all the while beating himself up for making assumptions earlier. In hindsight, it was obvious that Changbin hadn’t been alright. He would never slack if a choreographer was present. The dancer’s eyes landed on his own sweatshirt, carelessly thrown next to his bag. Quickly grabbing that too, he rushed back to the bathroom, only to find Changbin in pretty much the same position that he had left him in. Resting a gentle hand on the younger’s shoulder, Minho hummed: “I got you a warmer shirt too. You’re not going to get better if you’re running around in wet clothes. Do you want change first?” Shivering pathetically, the rapper nodded and struggled to get his sticky shirt off. Minho helped him pull it off before handing him the sweatshirt. It was a bit tight around his dongsaeng’s broad shoulders but it was a lot warmer.

Changbin slumped with his back against the toilet stall, closing his eyes and bringing his fist up to his face to muffle a queasy belch. “Do you want to have some water? Either it helps your stomach settle or it makes you sick, so you can get it over with and I can take you home”, Minho offered, already uncapping the bottle. The rapper winced but accepted the bottle. He didn’t really want to be sick but after so many false alarms, it’d be better to just get it over with than be stuck in this limbo forever. Taking a few tentative sips, Changbin realized the water certainly wouldn’t settle his stomach, so he started to chug it quickly, struggling to keep from gagging. He barely got to finish his drink before dropping the bottle and scrambling over the toilet bow, as the water gushed from his lips. Minho was there in a second, running his hand up and down his dongsaeng’s back to keep him calm as wave after wave of clear water shot up his throat. Choking a little, Changbin gave a painful cough and reached for his hyung’s hand. He yearned for comfort, needing a hug but his stomach wasn’t yet done. It clenched again, causing the rapper to pitch forward with a strangled retch. Biting his lip, Minho took Changbin’s hand, that was still blindly feeling around for his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

It took a while for Changbin’s stomach to calm down again but they were in no hurry. Unlike his earlier claims, Minho would definitely stay the entire night at the company building if that was how long the younger needed. When it didn’t seem like the rapper was going to bring anything else up, Minho carefully pulled him back let him lean against his chest while he tore off some toilet paper to wipe his dongsaeng’s lips. Changbin dizzily closed his eyes, huffing shaky breaths while the older cleaned him up. He was glad he finally got it over with but now he was so spent that it didn’t feel like he could get up at all anytime soon. There was a gentle hand on his forehead, brushing the damp bangs back before softly scratching his scalp. “Feeling at least a little better now?”, Minho whispered as he continued to run his hand through the younger’s hair. Lacking any energy, Changbin could only give an uncertain hum and kept his eyes closed as he slowly relaxed in his hyung’s hold. Checking his fever again, the dancer promised: “You will soon. As soon as you feel ready to move, I’m taking you back to the dorm, so you can rest in your bed and I can fetch you some medicine but don’t worry, there’s no rush, you can take as long as you need.”

Changbin drowsily went in and out of sleep as Minho didn’t have the heart to wake him, so they could go home. The dancer had no idea how long they had been sitting there but it didn’t matter all that much to him. Yeah, he wanted to get the younger home but if the other needed to regain some of his energy first, that was fine with him too. Minho was deep in thought, guiltily recounting all the opportunities he would have had to realize his dongsaeng was sick, when Changbin sleepily sat up. “Hyung, can we go home? I’m tired”, he muttered, voice scratchy from throwing up. The older nodded and got up before extending his hands to help the rapper up. Changbin’s head spun when he stood and Minho was quick to wrap him in a hug to steady him until he had adjusted. Even when the rapper nodded that he was okay now, Minho kept one arm around his waist, just in case. They slowly made their way back to the practice room, where the dancer hurriedly threw their stuff into their bags before slinging both of them over his shoulder.

Their walk back to the dorm seemingly too forever as Changbin dizzily stumbled next to Minho, who tried to keep his dongsaeng from falling. Unlocking the door, Minho quickly kicked off his shoes before helping the younger with his. He walked the rapper straight to his room and placed his bag next to his desk after sitting the sick boy down on his bed. Changbin instantly curled up, struggling to pull his blanket over himself as he still shook with chills. Cooing sympathetically, the dancer helped him with the blanket before turning to leave the room. “Hyung, can you please stay? I-I know you have a lot of other stuff to do, so you don’t have to, I just- I-”, Changbin rambles sleepily, needing the comfort he had been craving since last night but still remembering the older’s temper earlier. Face softening, Minho crouched next to the bed. He gently cupped his dongsaeng’s feverish cheek and whispered: “I will, don’t worry about it, yeah? I will stay with you as long as you’ll have me but I need to get a few things first, so we can try and bring that fever down at least a little.” Changbin nodded and closed his eyes, hoping his hyung would be quick. He had lost all sense of time, so he had no idea how long it had been before the mattress dipped beside him. “Bin? Do you feel like you could drink something? I don’t want you getting dehydrated after getting sick and sweating so much during practice”, Minho asked carefully. The younger shrugged propping himself up on his elbow and accepting the water his hyung handed him. The dancer had also gotten a bucket, figuring Changbin would throw up again before he was able to get over his bug, and a cold washcloth to place on the rapper’s forehead. When Changbin handed the water back, Minho placed it on the nightstand and got into bed beside the younger, cooing when the other up on against him. “Your head must be hurting a lot, so I’ll put something cool on it that will hopefully help your fever”, the dancer whispered, draping the washcloth across his dongsaeng’s burning forehead before running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Giving a satisfied hum, Changbin relaxed and soon drifted off to sleep but still heard the quiet: “I’m sorry, Binnie. I’ve been a shitty hyung today but please know, I will always help if you ask me to.”

[trashytummiez]

Could you write a story about Mina and Kirishima having a date where their appetites get the better of them, so they wind up all full and burpy?

Kirishima had always been meaning to ask Mina out on a date but every time he tried to work the nerve to talk to his pink-skinned classmate the butterflies in his tummy would always get the better of him and he'd always chicken out. So when she ended up asking him out instead it certainly made things a lot easier. She always knew how to make everything look so much easier than it was after all.

The two ended up going out to dinner which Mina insisted was really casual. Kirishima still kept trying to mind his manners all throughout dinner but unfortunately the red haired boy also had one of the most immense appetites within UA. Meaning despite his best efforts he ended up eating quite a lot more than he intended to eat but he just couldn't help himself. The food was simply way too good and the well-meaning boy ended up eating a whole heck of a lot more than he intended to eat on his first date with his long time friend.

But to Kirishima's surprise whereas most girls might have been turned off by his voraciousness Mina was right there with him every step of the way. He knew the pink girl had a pretty big appetite of her own but he never imagined in his life that she could ever pack it away an ounce as much as she had done on their date. It was surprisingly disarming and only worked to help Kirishima relax that much more around her which only encouraged him to eat even more as the night went on.

By the time they were back at Kirishima's place both teens were stuffed to the brim. "Unngh man I'm stuffed..." Kirishima groaned heavily and placed both hands atop his belly. He'd eaten so much that his tummy was bulging out as though he swallowed a beachball that rode his t-shirt up and exposed his bare stomach. It churned noisily while Kirishima rubbed it to try and soothe that persistent ache. His stomach felt so incredibly heavy and taut after eating so much in one sitting. "How're ya holdin' up Mina-chan?"

"Unnnnnnngh..." was the only reply he got when the bloated pink girl flopped down lazily onto the couch next to the red haired boy.

When Kirishima glanced over at his date and saw how much she'd managed to eat in full he couldn't help being impressed.

Mina's tummy was huge.

Like Kirishima she looked as if she swallowed a basketball. Though it was notably smaller than Kirishima's belly due to the strength of his stomach and his overall endurance it was nonetheless big enough that her own top was riding up and her shorts were both unbuttoned unzipped and even tugged down a little to give her big perfectly round tummy some much needed breathing room. But because of the nature of her acidic quirk much of what she had eaten was already well more digested than what Kirishima ate. Which was why Mina's stomach looked much softer and more sloshy than Kirishima's rock hard stomach.

"Dude I can't believe how full my tummy is right now," Mina said rubbing her belly and giving a strained huff in the process.

Kirishima couldn't help snicker at her adorable use of the word 'tummy'. "Heh at least we know you could kick Kaminari's ass if he tries to challenge ya to an eating contest," he said encouragingly.

Mina giggled but that soon turned to a sickly groan when the giggling made her tummy jiggle and slosh heavily.

Kirishima saw that and scratched the back of his neck bashfully. "My bad."

But Mina waved her hand dismissively and smiled at the sight of Kirishima's larger belly. "I'm still blown away by how much you managed to eat over there. You almost look pregnant!" She teased and gave Kirishima's big belly a teasing pat.

Kirishima blushed both from the joke and from Mina's hand thumping his tummy like that. Unfortunately that pat she gave disrupted some of the pressure that was brewing in his stomach. It wasn't long into his binge eating that Kirishima felt the need to burp really badly. But because he was around Mina he didn't want to embarrass her or gross her out with his crudeness especially if he wanted there to be a second date. All dinner long Kirishima desperately needed to burp but had been holding it in all night. He knew if he tried to let out muted ones to relieve pressure it would all come rushing up. And he knew if he gave any closed mouth burps those would still be loud enough to draw attention.

So when Mina's pat tried to work the pressure up his throat Kirishima desperately willed himself not to burp hoping instead he could excuse himself for a moment to leave long enough to let loose clear of Mina's earshot. Mina looked at him with confusion when she saw Kirishima clamping a hand over his mouth and looking mildly nauseous.

"Are you okay? You're not about to be sick are you?" She asked obvious to Kirishima's gastric distress.

All Kirishima could do was nod desperately in the hopes to holding back the pressure.

But then a thick gurgle erupted from Mina's own bulging tummy. And without a moment of hesitation Mina threw her head back and gave a huge throaty burp that completely caught Kirishima by surprise.

HHHRRRRREEEEEEERRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAAHHPP!!!!!!!

Kirishima was in awe. Not only was Mina even remotely embarrassed by letting out a big unladylike burp but she looked almost as proud as she did relieved the way she moaned in satisfaction and gave her belly such a hearty pat of relief after. Her tummy jiggled and sloshed heavily from the pat she gave it.

"Ohhhhhh yeah I needed that good god," Mina moaned contently then casually let rip another hearty burp. She turned to Kirishima and tilted her head. "Sure you're okay? You're sweating bullets."

Unfortunately since Kirishima was so awestruck he had almost forgotten how turbulent his tummy was getting when he tried to assure her that he was okay. Because the only thing that exited Kirishima's mouth was a giant burp that was infinitely louder than what Mina had just let out.

BBBBRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHRRAAAAAHHP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All that gas Kirishima had been holding in came violently rushing out of him like a bomb. That had to be one of the biggest burps Kirishima had ever let out. And the relief he felt was immense. But with that monster freed came all the pressure behind it.

Kirishima palmed the side of his bloated belly and brought a fist up to his mouth in time to give an incredibly deep closed mouth burp Mina could hear rumbling quite loudly in Kirishima's mouth. Then Kirishima gave an even longer and deeper closed mouth burp that made him wince from how hard it was to hold back from exiting his mouth.

He wearily blew the gas off to the side and sighed heavily giving his tummy a few hearty pats of his own. But he nonetheless blushed and gave a bashful, "'scuse me. Sorry but I really needed to get that out..."

Mina giggled loudly. "What are you apologizing for dude? That was a great one! Bet that felt amazing too!" She patted Kirishima's belly a few times then started rubbing it a little firmly. "Got any more in there?"

Kirishima was blushing immensely from having his tummy rubbed by his pink skinned crush. "Umm...p-probably..." he said timidly. Her rubbing was not only deeply sensual when his belly was so heavy and full but it was stimulating his stomach muscles enough to circulate more air in Kirishima's stomach.

He turned his head and gave a really big burp that he couldn't hold in.

BBBRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHP!!!!!

Mina giggled some more. "Wow you really were holdin' back all dinner weren't you!" She said and gave Kirishima's tummy a few firmer pats.

"Well I was..." Kirishima paused to give a really deep burp that left him panting. "...AAAAAAUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRHP!!!! Ohhhh man...but yeah, I was tryin' not to embarrass you."

Mina tilted her head in confusion. "What by burping? Who cares? I'm not Momo dude! I wasn't gonna get grossed out or anything."

"Yeah but we were also in...buuuuuuuhhhp...unf...in public. It's not manly to potentially gross other people out when they're tryin' to enjoy their meals."

Mina simply gave Kirishima a smile and teasingly poked his belly button a few times which made him blush even harder.

"You're too cute sometimes," she said which earned a bashful smile from the muscular boy. "Well either way if ya gotta burp don't hold back dude! I'm definitely not gonna," Mina said.

And right on cue her own belly gave another thick churning sound which made Mina's face tighten.

That was until she gave a thick rumbling burp that rolled out of her for a few seconds. But Mina maintained that look and held up a finger.

"Mph wait there's more," Mina said in a concentrated tone. She gave her glutted tummy a few pats which drew Kirishima's eyes to her bulging pink belly watching its flesh ripple with each pat she gave and slosh like it was full of incredibly rich jelly. She gave another low rolling burp and followed it up a few shorter ones.

BRRRAAAAAAAAARRRUUUUUUUURRRUUULLLLP!!!!!!

HRRRRUUUUUUUuuuuuuurrrOOOOOOOORRrrlk!!!

BrrrrruUUUUHP!!

As none of the burps gave Mina any relief she huffed in frustration that almost resembled a mildly nauseous pout.

"Ungh hate when they get stuck like that," Mina complained gently stroking her tummy from side to side while it churned noisily. "Kirishima you wanna gimme a hand?"

The bloated red haired boy tilted his head in confusion. "Ummm...whadduya mean?"

"I mean literally gimme your hand silly!" Mina said and grabbed Kirishima's hand. The boy yelped and went as red in the face as his hair when Mina placed his hand right against the dead center of her utterly engorged belly.

It felt so unbelievably soft to the touch and was so fast at digesting that her tummy almost felt a little squishy the way Kirishima's hand sank mildly into her bloat.

"There ya go! Now all you gotta do is push down!" Mina explained.

Kirishima gulped thinly and anxiously. He'd never touched Mina's flesh so intimately before and something about holding her belly just made Kirishima feel incredibly funny. But in a pleasant sort of way he couldn't describe.

Pushing thoughts aside for a moment Kirishima took a nervous breath then did as Mina asked by pushing down into her tummy.

Straight away a rush of gas worked its way up her chest and Mina this spunky pink skinned girl expelled a burp so loud that Kirishima almost mistook it for a dragons roar.

AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUURRRRHHHHHRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOORRRHHHHHPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kirishima was amazed. Not only was such a monumental burp easily a record breaker but he could feel Mina's tummy rippling under his palm from how intense that burp was.

Mina looked dazed but oh so relieved when it ended the way she slumped in her seat and nearly went cross eyed.

"Ohhhhh wow...that felt amazing..." Mina moaned.

Though he was still blushing Kirishima gave a fang-y grin. "Dude that was manly!" He said and gave Mina's jiggling tummy a few pats.

Mina hiccuped from the patting then grinned at Kirishima. She subtly gulped down some air which made her tummy feel mildly tighter under Kirishima's hand. Then Mina burped that air back up in the form of the words "Th-AAAAAAAAAAANNK . . . YYYYOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!"

Kirishima was taken aback by Mina burp-talking so effortlessly and really stretching the 'you' out for as long as she could. It left her panting when she finally finished and managed a weary giggle.

She seemed to be helping Kirishima to get more comfortable because the manly boy took in a few gulps of his own and gave an even louder response to Mina's crass antics.

AAANYY...

T-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMME...

DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kirishima successfully burp-talked the words 'anytime dude' with his eruptive dialogue getting louder with each word until he pushed out a really loud finish.

Both teens broke into a fit of laughter at their incredibly juvenile antics. Mina's tummy kept jiggling the more she laughed but with all that gas let loose it didn't hurt as much to laugh as prior. When the laughter subsided Kirishima smiled fondly. Because he was so much more comfortable now he began to gently rub Mina's belly.

The pink girl closed her eyes and sighed contently while Kirishima's hand gently stroked up to the roundest peak of her tummy and down all the way to her delicate lower tummy without reaching too low in case that made his date uncomfortable. But at this point Mina didn't appear uncomfortable with anything. She sighed happily and leaned against Kirishima and leaned further into his hand.

He continued to gently rub her belly and feel that odd warmth throughout his body. Kirishima couldn't explain it but the sight of Mina's tummy so big and round and the feeling of it brought an indescribable pleasure for the boy. A feeling that was more subtly matched by Mina whenever she caught a glimpse of Kirishima's belly in its bloated state.

Neither one could put into words what they were feeling. But they both knew that they very badly wanted to see the other getting stuffed like this again in the future.

Which all but guaranteed there would be a second date. And a third. And a fourth after that.

But for now both teens could very comfortably say this first date couldn't have gone any better.

[hobilluvvr]

lost ocean troubles | 2

college au! sub!armin x dom!reader

words - 2.7k

warnings - vomit, blood, mentions of abuse , injuries

parts - |

~

so incredibly sorry for this late update but testing season is approaching and I need to study sadly :/ this part is very rough with spelling errors and grammar but will be revised later !

please enjoy this update and constructive criticism is always welcomed :D . If you want to be added to the tag list please don’t hesitate to ask !

taglist - @haikyoonn @kenmas-nintendoswitch

~

The flowers had this magnificent pale blue color to them, the sun hitting them just at the right angle and the sage leaves accented the stem, the weight of the beautiful petals making the stem slightly wilt downwards .

this piqued armins interest, so much so that he walked towards them , feet trudding against the soft sand. As he comes close the overwhelming smell of coconut with a hint of sea saltseasalt overwhelmes his senses, his nose srunching up in question, the scent resembling of clean linen,a quite odd observation , even more so for a flower .

Just as he reaches to pick the flower up, the sun all of the sudden blazes furiously, the rays bouncing everywhere and blinding armin, now groaning as he squirms in abrupt discomfort. His feet dig at the sand … or what was the sand… the feeling of plush fabric instead meeting his skin, surrounding his body in comfort and warmth.

Snuggling further into this random source of heat, the sudden realization hits him. His eyes open the tiniest bit and he stops for a moment … this isnt the beach… in fact he’s laying on a bed… an unknown bed

At this his body jolts upward and armin frantically looks around his surroundings, the white pillows and the grey blanket not correlating in his mind as his. ‘This isnt my room’ the panic quickly sets in, quickly throwing the blanket aside and standing up abruptly which proves to be a grave mistake as a headache and the urge to vomit surges up his throat.

He clutches his stomach as he runs to the bathroom ,quickly kneeling over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach, the acidity already making his throat burn angrily. The sound of quick footsteps echo the walls and he goes to turn his head towards the door when the second round of bile threatens to escape his throat.

His ingers clutch the toilet ,violently puking when a second presence is felt . armin feels someone kneel next to him and gently rub at his back

“Its okay , its okay ,let it all out “ you push his bangs away from his face while the other hand rubs at his back . armin lifts his head up ,groaning as he moves away from the toilet feeling his head throb way too violently.

You hand him the cup of water and pain killer you set down when you entered the bathroom

“Here take this, dont move too much . your head is most likely killing you” he takes the items and pops the pill in his mouth quickly downing it with the water. When he sets the cup down he looks at you ,eyes squinting, clearly confused

“Where am i ?”

You chuckle lightly, standing up and lean against the counter “you dont remember anything do you huh?” the boy sitting on the floor thinking ...

Suddenly armin visibly stiffens, his cheeks flushing “uh w-ww di-idnt do i-it ,rig-ght?” his eyes all of the sudden finding great interest on the floor tiles .

You give him a light smile and laugh even louder this time “no, no we didnt ,dont worry about that. Here cmon” you reach out a hand to lift him up off the floor

He takes your hand sheepishly ,shoulders relaxing in relief, his red cheeks calming down “ then what happened? Why am i here ?” he asks following you out of the bathroom and into the room.

You cringe at the events that happened the previous night and you wonder if you should tell him everything. You head over to your drawers and open them, turning your back to the stumbling boy “well you got extremely wasted and this creep saw that you were alone and he tried messing with you but i took care of it”

your hands clench harshly at the shirt you were holding thinking about the old fuck. God humans can be pieces of shit

“Oh.” armins bit his lip and he desperately tried to remember exactly what happened , your answer being quite vague , but this did nothing but make his head throb once again . wincing in pain he goes to lifts his hand up to hold his head when he notices the bandages around his wrists ‘what happened ?did i get injured ?’

After picking out what you needed , you turned to face him and you catch his line of sight , looking at his wrists . as if you heard what his thoughts you say “ the perv was being really aggressive towards you and he injured you quite badly but i brought you up to my apartment and fixed you up a bit “giving him a warm smile you hold out the clothes you had previously searched for

“ here , take this and clean your self up a bit then i can take you home, yeah ? you got a little bit of a stain forming on you “ you chuckle, head nodding towards the vomit on the shirt before walking out ,leaving him in the room alone

His eyes widen at your comment immediately rushing to the bathroom and sure enough his vomit is all over the shirt , the mirror reminding him of his earlier commotion . armin sighs in embarrassment ,blue eyes scanning his appearance, finally now knowing how much of a hot mess he looks like . he notices another bandage on his face, his cheek specifically , a bit of blood staining the white bandage along with another few scratches all over his face.

His finger traces around his facial injuries ‘wow, what exaclty happened last night ?’

He shakes his head , not wanting his head to pound again, instead just focusing his attention on the shirt you gave him noticing that it looks similar to the dirty one he is wearing currently.

‘Oh god …..dont tell me …. Im wearing her clothes ‘ the realization hits him and his ears turn an angry shade of red. ‘God how much more of a burden can he be to you ?’ he groans before closing the bathroom door

…

As soon as you close the door , your eyes land on a very dishevled eren leaving his room , hand shielding his squinting eyes away from the harsh sunlight “what happened ? i heard what sounded like someone vomiting” his morning voice rasping out, following you to the kitchen and sitting down on the kitchen bar stool

“Oh he woke up and well... , you know how hangovers are like “ you open the fridge , scanning the interior “wait why is the fridge empty ? i thought i told you it was your turn to go grocery shopping this time ? what happened ? “ you frown turning towards him, crossing your arms

Eren only yawns and stretches his body, not seeming to mind that you were glaring holes at him “dont you remember ? i couldnt go so you said we’d go together after we ate something yesterday but then you got too caught up fighting someone if i recall correctly ” he confidently said, fingers tapping at his chin , eyes meeting yours, glaring back.

You sigh giving up “ ahh yeah i remember now….” you take a quick glance around the kitchen and see nothing of nutritional value “ the hell are we going to eat then ? and why didnt you clean up the medical supplies from last night ?” you badger him looking at the medical supplies messily strewn all over the counter

Eren scrunches his face , hand running through his bedhair, still groggy from just waking up a few minutes ago “ we can always just doordash something” he picks up the bottle of rubbing alcohol remebering how you carried armin into the apartment when he passed out and set him on the couch leaving eren to tend to his wounds.

*

Just as armin was falling , passing out after just vomiting all over you , you quickly grab at his waist and preventing him from hitting his head on the floor . the stench of the vomit was awfully intense and you scrunch your nose trying to stop the smell from affecting you “ can you be any faster over there ? you tease seeing him struggle with the keys , his fumbling being weirdly endearing somehow

“Im trying , im trying. I swear this cold is messing me up or something “ he puffs out now fumbling with inserting the key right . you roll your eyes upon seeing this , giving a light chuckle before reaching a hand underneath the blonde boys legs and bringing them towards your chest, effectively lifting him up bridal style.

You walk into the apartment and set the boy softly onto the couch before looking down to the mess that your clothes are in , heading towards the bathroom “ hey eren could you patch him up for me ? i have to clean myself up before he’s not the only one with body fluids all over the floor.” you smirk

Eren scoffs “dont you go throwing up on me , you hear ? i just mopped the floors yesterday and im sure as hell not letting you mess my hard work up “ he hears your distant laugh down the hallway , before the sound of boots fade, leaving him alone with the boy

Eren looks at the boy slowly sliding down on the couch and ultimately sighs before going to the cabinet where all the medical supplies are stored. He opens it while lowly muttering “just cause my dad was a doctor and he taught me a few things doesnt mean i have to tend to everyones wounds “

Grabbing a few bandages and bandaids, and rubbing alcohol, he grabs a stool and places it in front of the boy. ‘Your injuries shouldnt be that bad ‘ he thinks before he lifts the boy and positions him upright. Immediately the sight of scarce blood and vomit greets erens eyes . eren winces in slight sympathy and disgust before he wipes armins face clean with the cloth he has in hand and disinfecting the wounds next

The rubbing alcohol stirred a reaction out of the blonde boy seeing as he squirmed in discomfort , the position he was put in faltering, falling into the nearest thing, which so happened to be erens chest, more specifically his neck

Eren was flustered ,not knowing what to do he freezes , his ears turning red upon feeling the shallow breath of the boy on, his sensitive neck . Eren looks down and he admires the peaceful features on the petite boy .’he looks so peaceful, pretty even ‘ eren stares for a bit before he snaps out of it and pushes the boy off his chest , tending to his wounds , doing what he first came to do.

*

“ i left the supplies out because i knew i would have to tend to your wounds too “ he gets up , walking to the other side of the bar, heading where you are

You squint your eyes in visible confusion “ my wounds ? what are you talking about ?” he scoffs rolling his eyes, “dont play dumb with me , you beat up someone to a bloody pulp and dont expect any damage to your hands, more specifically your damn knuckles ? “

He reaches down, grabbing your hand and lifting them up as to make a point “look at this “ you look down towards your hand and the sight of multi colored bruises,blood and even some open skin greets you.

“ you didnt let me tend to them yesterday so let me do it now “ you meet eyes and his are practically pleading you, but before you get to open your mouth to say anything, you hear rustling and you look behind eren to see what it is .

Armin is awkwardly standing there in the living room, the clean shirt you gave him reaching his knees , and the sweatpants a bit too baggy . you have to physically stop yourself from cooing , the sight being way too adorable for you to handle this early in the morning

Eren senses his presence as well , turning around , both of you guys forgetting about your previous conversation . you clear your throat, sensing some sort of tension in the room “ hey youre finally out ! i was going to make you something to eat but turns out the fridge is empty “ you rub your neck sheepishly , making a mental note to go grocery shopping asap .

Armins eyes widen at this , his hands extending and quickly shaking “ oh no no , please you dont have to, i dont want to be more of a bother than i already am ,” he shyly looks down at the floor , swinging his body , slightly nervous

You smile seeing his cute habit of not making eye contact, fetching your car keys off the wall “ well i bet youre missing your home right ? i can drive you home now if you want “ you also grab the plastic bag off the floor by the corridor

Armin seems to stiffen again , eren now chuckling , his hands stuffed in his sweatpants , noticing how the blonde boy seems way to nervous around you guys . armin looks at eren momentarily before he looks at the floor again ‘ how the hell do you guys look so good this early in the morning ‘ he thinks ‘ meanwhile here he is looking all messed up ‘

“I actually dont live too far away, i can walk home by myself “ armin lies straight out of his teeth , clearly not doing it well judging by the look of your face . youre not convinced seeing as the whole reason why he’s here in the first place was because he was wandering alone.

“ id feel much better knowing that someone is walking you home , i dont want a repeat of what happened yesterday .” you bite your lip, now staring more intensely at the boy in front of you

Armin mentally groans ‘ damn you and your kindness, why cant you get the hint that he doesnt want to hassle you any longer ?’

“Well um … “ he pauses, intensely thinking of a solution that doesnt involve him burdening you guys any further when he hears some shuffling and then someone handing a phone to him. Armin looks up and green eyes stare back at him

“Do you have anyone you can call ? a friend maybe to come pick you up ? “ eren suggests , reading right through the boy

“ o-oh y-yes i do umm thank you , for your phone i mean “ armin scrambles to take the phone and calls his roommate , knowing for sure she is freaking out about his whereabouts

He hands the phone back to eren and shuffles his feet “ luckily she is around the area and can pick me up in 5 minutes , i can wait outside …” you ponder for a second at this suggestions , before ultimately nodding

“Yeah sounds like a solid plan , okay , here take this bag before you head out “ you hand it over and armin looks at you and tilts his head slightly “ its your clothes from last night , i washed them and folded them , oh and your bag is also inside “ you explain while he peeks at the contents inside grief striking his face

‘How much exaclty did you do for him , he’s the worst guest ever in history , throwing up all over your bathroom ‘ he cringes at the thought. He's definitely gonna think about this experience at night,when he reminisces about all the embarrassing moments he's had in his lifetime

“Thank you guys so much for all youve done , i really do appreciate it “ armin rubs at his nape laughing out softly “ well i should get going “ he goes to the entrance, hand on the knob

“Yeah absolutely no problem , take care pretty boy ! “ you say waving , smiling brightly when you see his cheeks flush once more , eren just nodding goodbye . he waves a small goodbye before leaving , closing the door gently . sighing in relief when he got out.

Armin walks out into the street and sure enough there is his roommate , waiting and the look on her face looks not so pleasantly happy .he knows what is going to happen. he opens the car door ready to hear her badgering soon enough

“Look , mikasa , i can ex-” not so shortly as he begins his sentence, she yells out

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOUVE BEEN ? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED SICK I WAS WHEN YOU DIDNT PICK UP MY MANY PHONE CALLS ? ARE THOSE BANDAGES IM SEEING? “ armin winced at her reprimations, slowly sinking further into the passenger seat as she kept rambling, knowing that he has to face her wrath for the whole drive home .

he still has no clue as to what exactly happened last night, the only thing he can do is hope his memories would come back soon and clear up his many questions