#but its fine!! everyone gets back pain!! i just need to lose some FUCKING WEIGHT RIGHT???
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago
Note
i have a request for vamprry please ? :)
y/n gets hurt at school/college/somewhere and its real bad like torn skin and all and harry's not home so she's in pain the whole day and then vampy comes late and helps and all. He's also pissed at her that she didn't call him right away.
PISSED HOT VAMPYYY?? SAY YES SIR!
//
Anyone would call Y/N dump for not reacting quicker when a bicycle came striking towards her and all she did was stare in panic, dance on her footsteps with rushed squeaks and yelled at him to stop but it was too late.
Her comic tragedy ended up giving her scratched split knees, rashes on palms, a slightly crooked wrist and a big sticky imbrued bruise on her forehead.
She didn’t say anything to the rider since it was her fault and grabbed onto his apology politely walking back home, more like to Harry’s house since it’s the nearest and he would be at his company at this hour of day so she would have a good amount of time to make herself presentable.
God betrayed her though. Her wish got rejected— because once she reached home Harry was standing in the middle of grand dark living room already pissed at whoever came to hand him some papers from the office, his crisp black shirt’s rolled up his pale arms displaying a lewd scatter of tattoos the icy vein on the side of his throat popping from his aggravation, “It’s unacceptable everyone kn—” His inflammation slightly rimming his pupils crimson from his natural instincts that makes his appear more intimidating than ever as they stammer at the sudden appearance.
“What the actual fuck happened to yeh....” It takes him a moment to look at her. His heart panging in his throat at the abrupt realization that his little human’s hurt. Badly. She’s hurt and waving timidly from where she’s standing pretending to be okay and that unfurls wrath inside him.
Disgruntled and shocked he shoves the papers into the employs chest, his voice lost in plethora of his own suddenness, “Out. Now!” He grumbles to the employ taking two steps at once to reach her where she’s leaning against the sleek doorframe knowing her own support’s too weak.
“I’m fine. ‘M fine, some scratches is all..” She whispers as his panicky hands grazes over her body cautiously to not to hurt her further, “How did this happen?” He asks curtly. Jaw carving sharp and tight as his eyes flits against her hesitant ones in a warning.
She clears her throat wincing from shifting her weight from one foot to another and that makes Harry jump, instantly going to cup his arms under her knees and shoulders to bring her to his chest and carry her to his bedroom.
“I was crossing the main road of campus.. actually it was my fault—.. no– not his’s..” She stammers midway as Harry aches his brow at her carefully sitting her on the bed. When he couldn’t think it was going to be bad it turned out to be the worst once he was able to see all of her in bright light, “I just froze and didn’t move and his bicycle slammed into me...”
He pricks his bottom lip harshly. Unexpected fear and terror of losing her stinging each of the dead spots inside him, he’s loathing both her and that rider for being clumsy asses.
“And you walked all the way here?” He already knows the answers sighing disappointedly and breaching into a pregnant pause when she shrugs not looking him in eyes, “I mean your house was nearest..” His head snaps at that. Last straw before he scolds the hell out of her.
He scoffs rummaging through first aid box too harshly than needed, his eyes dark with a humungous ball of gloom sitting deep in his stomach.
“You should've called me. Bloody hell look at ye’ Y/N! you’re fuckin’ bruised but didn’t felt like I deserved to know.” He grits angrily tearing the poor gauze tape viciously with his canines that are poking from his gums due to the tycoon of ferocity screaming inside him.
“It was just a little accident..” She mumbles hiding her face behind the curtains of her hair and yaps out a painful cry when Harry presses his cold fingers softly against her hip-bone to prove her wrong, “Jus’ a little accident my ass.” He grumbles, shutting his eyes to focus on levelling his enraged breathing pattern at the sight of pink and blues on her skin when he pushes her top up.
“Are you mad at me?” She asks softly feeling her skin tingle from the warm balm while he wraps a dressing around her wrist in disturbing silence, his brows rumpled in the centre of his forehead sourly, his cheeks hurting from getting sucked between his morals to keep his turmoil at bay and his fingers trembles from both fear of losing her and her indolence.
“I’m fucking furious.” He fumes bitterly feeling her pant anxiously against his throat while he swabs alcohol at her wound on the side of her forehead, his action and his words not matching as he cups her neck gently and strokes it. Shushing her with a tender coo when she hisses knocking into him at the sting.
“Shh, shh baby. I’m done here..” He rubs his large hand down her back in soothing graze, meeting her eyes out of accident to see her smiling sweetly at him.
“Shut up. I’m still mad at you.” He rolls his eyes throwing the ball of dirty cotton in the bin, “You scared me. my vampire ancestors are mad at ye too.” His mumble waver-y feeling her smile dancing against his skin. She leans into him kittenishly as he cleans her with a wash-cloth.
“Yer a clumsy knob,” He looks up at her amused when she giggles at his words, “Bloody dimwit.” He grins at her— only person who could cause such turmoil in him and exhaust it in other second. Tensed shoulders and wrung muscles loosening as she crawls to hug him.
“Do somethin’ like this again and I’ll have your arse on stake.” He tells her with consequences already on line and Y/N giggles more from the dizziness of pain-killers. Humming when he sponges a kiss to her neck then to her temple.
“You’ll be here when I wake up?” She breathes out. Her wounds numbing. Harry pets her head and rocks her in his lap, cupping her hip to keep her close to him as he scoots back against the bedhead.
“’Course. now sleep sweet girl.” He ducks down awkwardly to kiss the tip of her nose pulling the sheets over them and discarding his previous decision of cooking them dinner knowing she’ll be all sensitive and cuddly wanting nothing but him once she wakes up.
“I love you so much. Seeing you hurt, pains me Angel.” He admits more to himself than her as she sleeps in his arms peacefully.
483 notes · View notes
keilemlucent · 4 years ago
Text
pretty eyes & starshine: i
(NSFW)
hawks | takami keigo x reader
ao3
part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii
beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos​ (thank you!! 💞)
word count: ~9.4k
Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills. 
You’re his only solace. 
warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury
Tumblr media
a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.
this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞
Tumblr media
Everyone is fucked up after the War.
There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.
There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often. 
He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.
He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns. 
It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.
Any day.
...
And it is any day.
He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks. 
If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves. 
Waste away, all alone.
But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings. 
The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing. 
That’s assuming healing was even possible.
Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.
Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.
It’s a harder descent. 
...
Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.
The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.
It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.
He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.
He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.
(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)
His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.
Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.
There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight. 
Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex.  It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows. 
It’s grim in its predictability. 
(When did he get so fucking pensive?)
(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)
He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.
But, that night, he notes that he is not alone. 
On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.
You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.
There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.
Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.
Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.
It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.
You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.
It feels comfortable, warm.
“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”
“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.” 
Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.) 
“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”
The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.
“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”
“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”
Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.
Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.
“What do you want to be called?”
“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen. 
“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”
His mouth is dry.
“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”
“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them— 
“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”
Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.
None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand. 
“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”
You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”
It’s sweet.
So, Keigo greets you.
“Nice to meet you, starshine.”
...
That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.
(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)
Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.
You wave goodbye, rising as he away.
The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.
...
The next days are long.
He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was. 
They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future. 
(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.) 
Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted. 
They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze. 
As established, Keigo was content to rot.
(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)
The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—
(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)
He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings. 
Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming. 
(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)
His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.
He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.
It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.
Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.
The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.” 
“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest. 
You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”
Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.
Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.
He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.
“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”
“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”
Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”
Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.
There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.
You backpedaled. “How was your day?”
Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face. 
The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.
As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.
“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?” 
You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”
Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. 
You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa. 
...
Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least. 
There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.
It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.
It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind. 
Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively. 
It feels safest with you near.
Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.
“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap. 
Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”
You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.
“Can I show you some?” 
“...Constellations?”
“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”
Whatever you’d like, he’d do. 
He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you. 
Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible. 
You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.
“What’s your sign?”
Keigo deadpans, “What?”
“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”
You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words. 
Flirting again.
Since when had he been so bad at it?
“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy— 
You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”
So, you do.
Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.
“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”
Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none. 
“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”
You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments. 
He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could. 
“Do you see now?” 
The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.
Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.
...
After that night, you always share the same couch. 
You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.
You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky. 
Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.
“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”
You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”
You both freeze.
Keigo’s mouth goes dry—
Chicken can’t fly.
As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.
“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”
It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning— 
“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”
You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—
“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.” 
Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side. 
(It was the first night you really touched him.)
(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)
...
They’re running out of healers to try.
From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.
His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.
...
He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness. 
There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.
She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”
“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.” 
“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”
“I can do it myself.”
She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do. 
When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.
Safety scissors would be even easier.
It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.
The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan. 
But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see. 
He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection. 
The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.
Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.
The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep.  The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue. 
It bothers him— 
It doesn’t look like him in the mirror. 
It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while. 
He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.
His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.
Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can. 
It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant. 
All the same, the trim feels good. 
Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.
The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.
Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.
It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back— 
It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.
“M-make it stop!” 
Keigo stills.
A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.
“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!” 
There’s a thud and thump from the other room.
“Please, please!”
Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.
“MAKE IT STOP!”
It’s you.
It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him. 
Why are you screaming?
Why have you always been screaming?
A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.
He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.
The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.
And then he smells burning—
Cloth.
Flesh.
And something in him snaps.
He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.
They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.) 
Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.
...
There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.
Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity. 
He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.
You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—
And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.
It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning. 
At your bedside, he freezes.
Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.
You don’t even notice him.
The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much.  The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering. 
Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—
And then he sees the wound.
He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.
Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.
He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with. 
...
You appear in the common room a few nights later.
Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach. 
There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.
He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.
Then, there’s silence.
It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.
“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”
Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.
“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”
As much as he can, anyways.
You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.
“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”
“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.
“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”
We just don’t talk about it. 
“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.
Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.
And there’s more silence.
It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.
“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”
You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.
“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”
“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”
Keigo can’t disagree. 
...
You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.
Your demon was near, though.
It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.
That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.
(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)
(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)
“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”
There was just you.
You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.
Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.
You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was. 
It’s molten.
The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—
“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh. 
“... It’s not moving anymore?”
“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.” 
Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet. 
Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—
But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.
Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.
You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.
Then, you melt into him.
...
Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.
None of them make progress. 
As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely. 
...
Endeavor visits him.
It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.
You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.
It helps you relax.
Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.
And so, so sweet.
You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone. 
It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.
He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.
After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.
 Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes. 
The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.
“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.
“Number fifteen.”
“... What?”
“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”
Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile. 
“This is hardly time for a pillar—“
“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”
Keigo breaks so easily these days.
“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up— 
“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”
“So, you’re giving up?”
“If I didn’t, I’d die.”
Coward.
No, just honest and smart. 
“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”
He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later. 
Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard. 
“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”
Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.
“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead. 
This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too— 
“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”
Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement. 
There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try. 
Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered. 
...
You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks. 
The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.
(Maybe it is.)
Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.
“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”
Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”
(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)
You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.
With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”
Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.
(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.) 
Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.
Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.
...
She, the main Suit, visits him.
(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)
There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.
The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.
She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business. 
Some things never change.
She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”
The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.
He doesn’t answer.
They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.
“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”
He knew that, he had to know that, right?
His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.
He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat. 
His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders. 
“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”
“Well, obviously I can't fight—” 
“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”
You’ve done enough. 
The words bounce around in his skull.
“Do you want to be done?”
Done with being a hero.
That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.
Keigo is Hawks.
His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.
“I’ll be done.”
You’ve done enough.
...
Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.
(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)
He’d stopped listening after that.
...
Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.
You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.
Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.
It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.
You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands. 
...
He fucks you for the first time, that night. 
His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—
And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—
(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?) 
But you’re not in the common room. 
Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.
You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.
The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.
As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.
Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.
But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.
You both are making peace with it at your own pace.
The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.
“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”
But I wish that you weren’t leaving.
His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath. 
“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”
But I’m going to miss you.
It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.
Even with the inevitably of progress.
Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—
He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.
Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.
But he’s insatiable that last night.
The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.
The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten. 
You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.
You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—
“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”
The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard. 
Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.
Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him. 
There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.
More, more, more. 
By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone— 
...
Keigo leaves the next morning. 
The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.
He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn. 
...
Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse. 
How can he not?
His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—
Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died. 
All disgusting reminders. 
Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had. 
But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he. 
The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time. 
He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.
He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.
...
When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.
Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave. 
And won’t ever give him again.
Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.
...
The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes. 
And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.  
Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.
His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.
But honestly?
Who the fuck cared?
His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.
...
...
He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter. 
Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.
Not random numbers, he has no patience for it. 
Yet, he answers it lazily.
“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”
“P-Pretty eyes?”
His heart stutters in his chest, he swears— 
“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.
He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin
There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.
Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”
You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some. 
“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”
Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought. 
How much had you lost?
“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”
He had no idea.
You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”
Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.
“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”
And alive.
“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”
No, no, no.
Where will you go?
Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.
“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.
No, no, no.
That won’t do.
“... What won’t do?” 
Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.
Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.
The need to keep something precious safe. 
The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.
Yet now? It’s practically screaming.
“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”
“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”
He has something to protect.
“I don’t have another choice—”
Someone.
“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”
“... P-Pardon?”
He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self. 
“Come home with me, starshine.”
++++++
thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗
look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞
ko-fi
628 notes · View notes
jjungkooksthighs · 4 years ago
Text
Claws of Carnality | jjk (5)
Tumblr media
Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader
 Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au 
 Rating: 18+ / nsfw
 Word Count: 8.7k we really out here getting longer with every chapter because a bitch is hungry
 Summary: Privation looms lingeringly without your mate of whom hunts for you deep within the wood. In his absence, he still manages to fill the void even if it is only ephemeral. The sun watches while you fall prey to your desirous natures and it is only when the golden orb has begun to drip lower along the sky’s body that it is time for you to then be guided by the hands of other omegeans to prepare you for your mate upon his return even when no one yet knows, beyond you, who has already staked his claim on you. When the call of your alpha announces his incoming arrival through the forest beyond, that’s when you heed his howl and go to welcome him home, but what will you find when you get there?
 Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scent marking, scenting, fingering, begging, praise kink, female masturbation, cunnilingus, breeding/impreg kink, character injury (someone gets hurt, but it isn’t serious)
A/N: My fingers are literally sore from writing so much. This one got pumped out in like a day and I’m honestly a clown because we really out here going from 1.5k with the first chapter all the way to 8.7k for chapter five. I think my hands are still shaking as I write this, but hey, this beast is finally out of the cage of my mind like it wanted to be! Seriously, this one did take some hours of sleep out of me in its need to be written, so please feed my soul and let me know that all this effort was deserving of the lack of sleep in the midst of it being midterm week at my university. 
You guys have been so freaking sweet with your kind messages so far and I really am floored at how everyone seems to be enjoying this story, so please keep that up, y’all! I hope that I did justice to everything that has been written so far and more than anything, I hope to have been able to please you all with this next installment. Now, without further ado, I give to you part five of COC!
 Part 9  Part 8  Part 7 Part 6  Part 4  Part 3  Part 2  Part 1
Feebleness fleetingly finds you under its clutches while it grasps you within the boscage of the woodlands.
 It is commanded by the titillating tendrils of your alpha’s spiced scent and your fingers tug tightly around the fine furs without thought as you stare longingly at the mound of vestments that Jungkook had so torturously left in his wake, a whine releasing itself from the bowels of your body as you try to stand on dangerously debilitated ligaments that are still too weak to bear your weight after the satori that has swayed your entire being.
 Too distracted in the pheromones of him that wrap yearningly around you, you don’t remember to pick up the abandoned silken necklace that your alpha had wantonly pulled off and away from you as your wobbling knees bring you to the forsaken garb he’d peeled so salaciously from his beautiful body.
 Next to it are the shredded, tattered remains of the trousers he’d been wearing and, distantly, you wonder how many pairs he has ruined in the past through the multitudinous shifts he must have gone through as a purebred alpha that must have been so prone to surrender to his wolf and trade his human feet for the paws of his beast.
 Your wolf bays at you to pick both up in the need to keep as much of him near to you as you can and, with embers in your mind burning only for him that are stoked by his redolence, you heed it as your knees buckle when you bend with effort to grab them.
 Belatedly, it occurs to you that your alpha had not brought an alternative change of clothes given the state of his wrecked attire.
 As you slowly run your fingers reminiscently over the destroyed fabric, there’s a thought that pushes at your conscience between a pair of golden irises that flash commandingly at you and through the smoke that hazes your mind, you remember what he’d told you.
 “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”
 The words melt away at your insides in the clear claim that they heat you with and you really can’t help it when you bring both articles that had adorned him close to your chest as you turn to tread through the woodland back from whence you came as your cheeks run hot with realization.
 Your alpha would anticipatedly await you to receive him back from the hunt he was to lead in your honor.
 He wanted you to be there to welcome him over all of the other bitches in the pack and, like the dutifully loyal omega you were meant to be, your mind had already set into its stone that you would later return to the greenwood upon the sun’s setting when all the alphas would rightfully reemerge from the forest’s foliage so that you could greet your own.
 You would do so with open arms that would bear not only your warmly joyous touch, but also the mended clothing he’d damaged to hunt for you that would serve to preserve the modesty that he intended only to show to the pack. Beyond closed doors, you wanted him to shred it all only for you.
 Beyond all of that, though, there’s the searing flame of possession that your wolf finds its rump sat firmly against in the calefaction of the emotion that is ablaze within you and you find that you’re willing to fuel it into a wildfire so that everyone will know that your alpha belongs to you should he wear the restored vestments that you would effortfully stitch back up with the hands that longed to caress and find themselves over his perfect aureate skin.
 These are what have you promptly turn to leave with the flutter of bird’s wings beating against your bosom as you amble along in obliviousness to the pair of lupine eyes that observe you protectively in the distance.
 It is only when you walk so far into the rays of the reaching sun that even your striking silhouette can no longer be beheld by them that their owner whirls around, his ears flicking toward the clang of antlers that must belong to two rearing bucks some ways off and without a moment to lose, he’s gone in the rush of the autumn leaves.
 Lost in the sea of pheromones that wash over you as the spray of them pools around you while you press your nose greedily into his garment, you pay no mind to the mated alphas or betas walking about at the early hour.
 What does demand your attention, however, is the sudden onset of sharp, panging pains that, with every step and breathe you take, sink their teeth deeper within the soft skin of your belly, a whimper caught in the fabric your mouth is held against as a vicious torrent of feverishness has your body temperature begin to lower without the warmth of your alpha as a vicious headache starts to pound against your cranium.
 In the midst of it, your own musk pungently pervades the air only to draw the eyes of unwanted wolves to your sweet smell that is enhanced due to the starting symptoms that have already set your body off in the absence of your alpha that it pines for.
 It is only when you manage to close the door to your chambers behind you, with your alpha’s clothes covetously pressed against your nose as if drunk on his ambrosial taste, that you shirk Jungkook’s furs from your body to throw them on your bed as your wolf yaps insistently to  nest amongst the pelt until the scent clinging to it has rooted itself to your cot so that no part of it has gone unseeded by your alpha.
 Once you’re satisfied with the assortment of dips and ripples of the blackened blanket of pelts that cover your duvet in its entirety, that’s when you lay down to nestle the furs, your baser being demanding that you lather yourself in its savory smell that you wish to soak in until you reek of your alpha.
The soft, downy pelage of the pelt caresses you against your exposed calves so very tenderly and, abruptly, the dress you wear is far too rough as it grazes against your skin in your movements as you quickly divest yourself of it. Somewhere in your maneuvers to take it off, your legs rub against each other only for you to widen both eyes at the sight that greets you.
 There’s slick that all but drips from your sex and it glistens along your thighs in the thick coating that marks you there and you suck in a breath as you ascertain the afflictions your body has been wracked with.
 You’ve just gone into the pre-heat acutely accompanied by a fever that every omega has intermittent interludes of upon finding their alpha.
 As if to remind you of this, a sudden shiver falls over your skin in the frosted frigidity that freezes the air around you in how cold your boudoir has just become under your steadily decreasing internal temperature.
 Without the physical comfort of your alpha, you whine, your fingers finding his garment that you’d thrown on the bed beside his furs to quickly lay it atop your bare bosom, your nipples hardening against the flocculent material that is softer than satin as it brushes against the sensitive buds deliciously.
 You sigh shakily in satisfaction as the cloth along your chest coaxes your skin with its gentle warmth through its fibrous fingers while his furs embrace you as you silently thank your alpha for leaving such giving gifts behind to smoothly soothe you in his absence.
 Your moment of respite is short lived, however, when an edged twinge of a cramp bites low into your abdomen as you grimace in pain, a fresh accretion of your juices finding your folds as you cry out the only name that could ever hope to free you from such sensations.
 “Jungkook,” his name is whispered from your lips, an irrational need setting itself alight within you as the picture of your alpha half nude from the forest flashes provocatively through your mind.
 He’d been so profoundly pulchritudinous under the morning rays and, with those dark eyes and wet mouth that had been so eager to welcome you to him, he’d only allured you more to him between his words of letch that had left you so parched after him. You can still imagine the way his hot tongue had laved at you, can still feel the deep press of his digit that had pushed down wantonly within your own lips as you’d sucked at it like a newborn calf.
 His finger had been so obscenely long while his hands had been so lewdly lined with veins over the bones that bore so much strength and you wonder how those digits would have felt deep within your velvet depths while you ponder what those lustful lips of his would do to you if they found their rightful place along your neck. You cogitate how well his defined, chiseled body would fit against yours while he’d drive his cock without abandon into the silken home of your pussy while he’d utter lascivious indecencies to you born out of lubriciousness for you.
 All of this has your hand sliding down your body without pause, your eyes closing as new need begins to burn hotly within your system in longing for your alpha.
 Your fingers find your neglected bud of nerves while you imagine that it is him that stands before the legs that you spread without hesitation for him as hunger flares behind golden rises that sear cravingly into you. You envision that it is him that commands you to taint yourself this way as you breathe in the igniting incense of him that has the flint of desire smoke profusely with the heat that simmers there as he clouds your mind until there is nothing but him that lingers there.
 “Touch yourself for me, pretty,” his hazily hallucinated voice demands within your mind.
 Helpless to deny him even in your fantasy, you obey in the want to please him even within the imaginary realm your head concocts of him. Your brows pull together in concentration as a ring finger slips between your saturated sex to collect the slick that accumulates there before finding its place atop the neglected bundle of nerves that have been ineffective for years in relieving you of your deep desire that has only ultimately and uncontrollably grown throughout your years without the aid of the alpha that you belonged to.
 Upon the first glide of a middle finger over your clit, you moan, your other hand closing compactly around the bed of furs beneath you as you envision that pink tongue of his darting delectably from his mouth to lick at his lips as he stares raptly at you before uttering,” Come on, my omega. Show me how those tiny fingers try to sate that pretty cunt that only your alpha could ever satisfy,” you imagine that he leans over you to plant two hands on either side of your hips as he sniffs, his eyes rolling back at your musk as he burrs, “Let me see how you’ve tried to give yourself the pleasure that can only be granted by the alpha you were made for, pretty.”
 You shakily sigh in response in the thirst that implores the sustenance of him through another deposit of slick as one finger begins to slowly stroke your clit while your other dips between your generously wetted folds to circle and prod at the hole that woefully weeps its essence in the denial of what it craves most.
 Helpless in the inability to disobey him, one digit breaches your sopping entrance while your other streaks over the bundle of nerves crowning your womanhood in a figure-eight pattern as you throw your head back while imagining that it is his lips that find your neck to leave behind marks that brand you as his.
 “Gods, yes, alpha...please,” You cry out, your digits inadequate next to the ones that have sinfully set your soul alight.
 Your finger sinks easily into your wet sheath as you drive it back and forth before your pace inevitably quickens, your hips pitifully trying to chase the elusive hand of pleasure as they begin to gyrate atop the bed while your other hand latches tighter onto the furs beneath you.
 You envision that the mouth you wish would claim you as his travels torturously down your body until he’s peering edaciously at your glistening sex, the squelching sounds that grow louder in your fastening ministrations only beckoning him further in the drenched deposit of slick that amplifies it.
 You envisage that he brings one plump lip between his teeth as he stares like a starved man at you behind eyes that glint with appetite as he hums, “Mmm, look at that cunt crying for its alpha. You really are desperate for me, aren’t you, pretty?” He lowers himself down to his knees to give you a piercingly hungry glare, “Tell me what you want, my omega, and I may be merciful and give you the release you want so badly. Obey this- obey me -and I will bring you to your end that was only ever mine to give to you, pretty.”
 Your fingers hasten their movements as you bear more force down and over your rapidly engorging clit, the digit that lodges itself needlingly inside you still not enough as you whimper out, “A-ah…please, alpha. I want your mouth on me. Give me your mouth, alpha.”
 The desperation for him flares as you imagine the smirk born of amusement before he descends down to your folds that shine with the sheen of your slick that has made a mess of your thighs and the bed of furs beneath you. You watch as craving of the likes in which you’ve never endured settles heavily across your abdomen only to coil tightly when, with his eyes still locked on yours, his rapturous tongue licks a long, languid stripe across the delicate skin of your inner thigh only to cause you to bite down on your tongue in effort to trap the sound of sin that yearned to escape you in the fervid felicity of that alone.
 You envision your alpha lapping unmercifully at you until the only wetness draped across your thighs is his leftover saliva, your back arching with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive skin as you whine in spite of his teasing.  
 “Is my mouth all that you desire, pretty? I could do so much more to you with my fingers. I could fuck you so well with just my hands,” your alpha muses as one digit prods at your entrance unmercifully in the way that it nudges itself back and forth between the folds of your sex as you gasp out. It’s when he extricates it from you, with your juices still soiling his finger, that he takes it into his mouth as he groans only to have you throw your arm over your face as redness sweeps over your cheeks as you pule.
 Your alpha releases his digit from his mouth with a ‘pop’ as heat winds you up when he urges, “Beg for me, my omega. Only then will I give you more. I want to see how much you need me.”
 The words fall easier than the waters from a river as you visualize him smirking knowingly as he dangles your pleasure before you like bait on his hook as you babble, “Want your fingers, too, alpha. I want you to fill me up with them until I’m so full of you that I can’t think anymore. Please, Jungkook.”
 Without warning, two fingers push pleasantly inside you as your mouth parts in an ‘o’ shape while your alpha licks at his lips, entranced in the sight of his fingers disappearing into your sex before he brings them backward only to bury them deeply within you again without prelude. Hot breath is blown over your pussy as he separates his digits in a scissoring motion that has your walls contracting around him as you press your lips together in effort to stifle the sounds he so easily draws out of you.
 It’s when he furls his fingers inside you in a perfect motion to have your toes curling that your body trembles in the sensation, your alpha noticing this as he utters, “Take it, pretty. I know you can. You’re being such an obedient girl for your alpha. I fucking love it.”
 The praise has you preening as you pant and when his tongue flattens over your womanhood to trail tortuously up so that no part of you is left untouched by him, that’s when you keen.
 “Gods, you are so fucking delicious on my tongue. I could do this forever and never tire of your flavor, my omega,” you imagine that he replaces his hand with yours only to cause you to writhe when two fingers circle over your clit unrelentingly while he gives a light, chaste kiss to the innermost part of your left leg before, with lips still coated in your essence, he croons, “Because you’ve been so good in allowing your alpha to taste you, I will give you your reward, yeah?”
 You hardly have time to think on the words he feeds you with before his lips are planted over your vulva, the wet muscle attached to the bottom his mouth sweeping along your slit while his thumb whorls over the bundle of nerves as his nose brushes against your clitoral hood to cause you to cry out.
 “Alpha, please,“ Your voice waters down into a mewl as you envisage that Jungkook, without warning, pushes his tongue so far inside you that your eyes roll to the back of your head with a stuttered sound.
 You envision that you can feel the way he grins knowingly as he watches you fall apart on him, his eyes narrowing heatedly as he plunges the appendage damningly with you as he utters, “That’s right, pretty. Call out the name of the only one who can make you feel this good. Gods, you’re so beautiful all spread out and bare for me just like you were always meant to be. Fuck, pretty.”
 You do as he says, stammering out his name in labored breaths as you imagine that he thrusts his tongue into you without fail as the tip of it perfectly hits the cluster of nerves buried deep within you over and over again. Soon, your walls begin to clench tellingly around him and by this point, your knuckles have gone white with how tight you grasp the furs in the hand that you’re not using to sinfully stimulate all of this.
 When you envisage that it is his fingers that splay possessively over one breast only to fondle it amongst digits that twiddle your nipple between them while he looks at you with a hooded gaze darkened only with the most carnal of desires, that’s when the coil of craving within you constricts as your alpha rasps, “You’re close, aren’t you, pretty? Fuck, when I take you, I can’t even imagine how you’re going to feel around my knot,” the last word has your walls closing threateningly around him as you moan out in the need your wolf bays at to be filled fully and completely by the only cock that you want to impel itself in your silken sheath and in response, he hisses, “What, you like that? You want my knot, pretty? You want to be bred until you’re swollen and round with my pups? Is that it, my omega?”
 You nod, too far gone into your indecent illusion to care anymore as your back bows when he sucks your sex between his lips as you drawl, “Yes, alpha. Please, give it to me.”
 There’s a devastating chuckle between your legs that has you trembling in anticipation and when the digits of his fingers roll your nipple between them as if he’s done this thousands of times before as he pairs it with an especially fatal propulsion of his tongue that strikes your g-spot so piercingly that it has your body convulse dangerously around it.  It is only when you’re squirming that your alpha’s all-consuming irises flash commandingly as he growls, “You’ll get your fucking pups out of me only if you yield to your alpha,” he says with the eternal flames of voracity blazing through golden rises that devour you whole as he eats you like a deprived man while he professes,” Surrender to me, pretty. Submit to me and show me how bad you want your alpha.”
 He pairs this with a catastrophic swipe of his tongue once, twice and three more times before you’re throwing your head back in blissful pleasure as you fall hopelessly apart while you plummet into your end that wracks you to a writhing mess atop soiled furs while your walls flutter fiercely around the two fingers you had unknowingly undulated against in your search for release.
 When you extricate your digits from your body, a string of slick clings to your fingers and, longingly, you wish that it wasn’t your essence on your hand, but instead that of your mate’s.
 Only your labored breaths break the silence that sets in the aftermath of your indecent deeds, your muscles aching from the awakening of new ones that have not been in use before amongst the old that have been afflicted after the strenuous strain that your alpha had wrought on your body.
 It takes a few minutes to come down from your high and your headache is furiously fast in reemerging once the remnants of your climax have faded as you groan in effort to sit up. It is then that you notice the tattered trousers you’d neglected before in the ravenousness that had eaten away at you for your alpha and, with a new resolve that prickles past the prominent pounding of your head, you decide that now would be a good time to mend them so that you will have something to present to your alpha upon his return to the compound.
 You stand on unstable legs that are beginning to become a familiarity to you in the wake of your alpha as you pull Jungkook’s garment over you and are completely content with the way the article of clothing covers your intimate parts as you fold it over your chest to tie it together with a silken cord that had been buried inside.
 Finding your small sewing kit that you’d left abandoned in the corner of your chambers, you situate yourself along the cluster of plush pillows settled along the window seat as you set to work on fixing your alpha’s attire.
 You try to mind your fingers that the needle had left you privy to numerously numbed fingers because of in the midst of the late hours of the night after stitching together the ripped remains of the clothing that the pups under your care would often tear with claws that protracted and retracted in the midst of their growing bodies.
 It is a futile attempt, for the sharp spikes that shoot through your digits inflict themselves in you anyway. Your attention is far too focused not on the article of clothing, but on the one who had worn it.
 You wonder what he might be doing right now and if he’s been thinking about you as profusely-or lewdly, mind you- as you have been about him, your wolf wanting to howl for him to beckon him back as you longingly caress the shredded trousers while you pine for the warmth of his skin and the radiance of his smile.
 Sometime later, there’s an abrupt series of knocks at your door and you smile as you fold your finished work and place it on the table next to your window seat before rising with anticipation that energetically bounds through you.
 It was time for you to be prepared and groomed so that you could be received by the alpha that no one yet knew had already staked his claim on you. Every omega went through this period before their Offering Ceremony to heighten the chances of finding them a suitable mate.
 The door opens and in leaps your best friend, Niva, who was mated last spring as she happily greets, “Y/N! Are you so excited? Your time is finally here, darling!”
 You laugh jovially at her energy as you easily question with mirth, “Good to see you, too, Niva. I am, very much so. Is it just going to be you that has the privilege of getting me ready?”
 She enfolds you in an all-encompassing embrace and you mirror the sentiment, for it is in omegean nature to be close-knit and seek the warm arms of the dynamic that is known for their nurturing, compassionate nature.
 You wrap your arms around her, but upon your best friend getting one whiff of the heavy pheromones soured by sex in every crevasse of the room, her nose wrinkles as her face twists, “Ew, Y/N, did you seriously already get bedded on the day of your ceremony? It stinks in here. Your grandmother is not going to take kindly to this. You’re supposed to be pure, remember?”
 You stand back with a smile lifting at your lips, “I know very well, Niva. Have you considered,” you lift a brow, “that perhaps I am still the virgin you always like to mess with me about being and maybe that there’s an alpha who might have given me his furs so that I could have some kind of relief in his absence?”
 Your best friend’s eyes widen in surprise, but that is soon replaced with a knowing glint of mischievousness in one eye as she takes in the visage of your disheveled appearance amidst the only article of clothing that is entirely too large in how it dwarfs your much smaller body as she queries, “Judging by the smell, whoever it is must be quite an alpha based on how strongly your room reeks of him. Judging by how that excuse for a shirt on you totally swallows you up, he must also be quite muscular and tall. Tell me,” she leans close, “has he touched you yet?”
 Your cheeks turn red as the memories flash like moving pictures through your mind in a tale recounting what had just happened and all that had occurred before and within the greenwood.
 You pull your lip between your teeth thoughtfully before you quietly admit, “In more ways than one, yes. Gods, has it been amazing, Niva. He is so…so attractively alluring in every way.”
 Your best friend holds you close as she watches the emotion color your irises and, seeing that in combination with the way your very voice had lilted with the sentiments, happiness dawns on her as she cards a hand through your hair to declare, “Then I will endeavor to make you irresistible to whoever this alpha is, darling. When I’m done with you, your alpha won’t know what hit him before it’s too late.”
 You blush when she calls in your other two omegean friends of whom carry a large assortment of oils, herbs and soaps before the three disappear into the lavatory through the adjoining antechamber in your boudoir to set to work on readying your bath.
 You busy yourself in the meantime with thoughts filled only with your alpha despite the cacophony of chatter echoing excitedly off of the walls, your attention drawn elsewhere and when Niva comes to retrieve you, that’s when you look away from the window that you’d been trying to squint through in effort to locate your alpha that still hunts for you within the greenwood.
 When you step into the copper basin that is much too large for your smaller body, the waiting waters wrap tenderly around your ailing body as the steam wafts around you in the heat of the fluid that births it. A long, drawn out breath leaves you as your tautened muscles loosen while your friends pour vial after vial of lavender, spruce and rosemary oil over you, the viscous solutions draping themselves over your skin to coax open your pores so that more of your pheromones are released to further attract prospective alphas with your scent.
 Niva takes care to drizzle you in pink salt sold out of the exotic Himalayas that she’d acquired from an especially friendly merchant after being told it had the power to make the skin glow with the might of a goddess. After that, she then spritzes the waters around you with roses, passion flowers and red clover blossoms that decorate the watery landscape around you until its canvas has been painted a magnificent magenta while you’re lathered in the herbal bath, a sigh of satisfaction falling from your lips before your best friend starts her work cleaning your hair.
 Usually, you would purr at the gentle glide of fingers over your scalp, but not today. Today, there’s only one pair of hands that you want on you and they are much too far away for your liking.
 Once the suds of soap have been rinsed from your hair, that’s when you’re left to bask in the warm water that had been drawn especially for you, for each omega has their own variation of scents that they prefer to bedeck themselves with for their Offering Ceremony in effort to lure more alphas through an amplified air of pheromones surrounding them.
 You ruminate on what Jungkook might do once he catches your naturally enhanced aroma that he’s already admitted to liking so much and, for good measure, your fingers find a floating rose and draw its soft petals over your shoulders before rubbing it along your neck.
 When the water has gone cold and you’ve been immensely imbued with the essences of nature, that’s when your friends return to retrieve you from the depths of the basin that you’ve sunken into through your calming contentment.
 Your hair is aired with oaken fans brought all the way from China before they twine and curl it around until it rests artfully in a braided bun along the crest of the back of your head, two twin strands nestled right in front of your ears to petitely frame your face.
 You really wish that you could focus on the gossip that falls freely as leaves from the trees this time of year as they labor over you, but you can’t. Not when your head swims with thoughts only of your alpha.
 Caught as you are in the tides of him that drag you along, you do not feel the bristles of a brush along your eyelids as Niva tips your head back to apply the powdery coloring that will accentuate your brilliant silver orbs before your best friend lines your lids with the blackened stick of kohl.
 Even when a light smattering of the dust of crushed rose petals is painted over your cheeks, you do not look into the mirror, for your eyes are trained on the sliver of sun that begins to wane through the rays that begin to reach backward toward their parent as your wolf bays in expectancy to receive its mate.
 Once Niva is done with her masterpiece, that’s when you’re made to stand and close your eyes before you’re walked over to the mirror that spans from the floor to the ceiling in the corner of your chambers as your other two friends produce the gown your grandmother had had made for you for this very day out of an ornately sealed box that had been left outside your door upon your return from the woods.
 You hear the clicks of the chest that signal its opening, excitement enthusiastically running amok within you when there are three collective gasps behind you as they stare in awe at your gown.
 It is lifted gingerly and delicately in its fragility and your friends help you into it slowly while slightly stiffened organza material skims your skin as it is pulled meticulously up and over your body. Once your arms have been lifted through the hollow holes and the pleated style sleeves rest atop your shoulders, that’s when the laces lining the back of the gown are pulled taut and the bodice constricts around you as you wince at the unyielding tightness that winds around your abdomen.
 Once the ties to your dress have been neatly crossed over each other in a complicated complexity that you will never see, that is the moment that you hear the distinguishing groan of aged wood being opened in the form of another box. The contents within that are unknown to you, but upon the cold, heavy material that encircles your neck, you can surmise that it is a choker meant to conceal the area so untouchable to all but the alpha whose mark you would eventually bear in its stead.
 Your best friend smiles fondly at her finished piece of artwork before stepping to the side to say, “Open your eyes, Y/N. It’s time for you to see how much the moon favors her most adored daughter.”
 You open your eyes in questioning, but before you can turn your attention to your friend, the image in the mirror captures it first as your breath catches at the sight it bestows to you, your jaw falling open in wonderment.
 Your skin all but glows under the gleam of sunlight that tries to tread over your radiance in its dimming dance as irises the color of moonlight piercingly stare back at you from under eyelids speckled with silver like the celestial body amidst the smudges of blended eyeshadow along the sides that beseech boldness in the color that matches the soils of the earth. It is set off by a cat-eye of kohl liner that is dappled thinly along the tips of your lids to demand attention in the way that it contrasts your irises. Even your lips have been streaked with the crimson of a rose to beckon beguilingly in the wish to be looked at.
 Embellishing your neck is a choker made entirely of moonstone that is set between chromium on each side. Its base rests just above your collarbones and, its thickness, it extends about two inches upward to hide away your sensitive scent glands as it covers your skin.
 Below that, though, that’s what really takes your breath away.
 Your gown looks to have been crafted from the threads of the moon’s core in the white of it that adorns your body in its entirety. Layers of gossamer-like fabric compose your dress and set carefully between it all are specks that shine like grayed moondust in the light that glimmers off of them.
 Your bodice is styled in a plunging ‘V’ that hugs your frame and is ceased only by the firm, fitted band that wraps around and hugs your middle well below your breastbone. Tied along its end is a very thin silver cord that twists into a knotted bow before your skirt loosely trails down and out, the train of it cascading like a sea behind and around you. Your arms are bare, but the sheerer and more translucent sleeves trickle over your shoulders and flow about to join the pool of fabric along your feet as you take a shaky breath.
 The woman that stares back at you is one that drips with the waters of clarity in the confidence that she exudes as she stands tall and proud. She is every bit the omega you were always meant to be as she holds her head high, her hands clasped along her front as she angles her head at you to study you and you have to close your parted maw as you stare wondrously back at her, wholly unable to move at the sight of the stranger that has your body in the mirror.
 When the familiar furs of your alpha are lowered over your shoulders, that’s when you look away, your irises finding Niva’s as she coos, “I don’t even think the ancient queen of the wolves could compare to you, darling. I really have outdone myself this time.”
 You stutter, completely in awe of yourself as you tell her, “N-Niva…this is… how did you-“
 Your best friend hushes you with a finger to her lips,” Shhh, that’s a secret, my dear. I cannot divulge my magics lest someone steal them away from me,” she teases as she puts both hands around your shoulders to encourage, “Look at yourself, my darling. You look positively radiant. Those alphas don’t stand a chance.’
 You think that maybe it is all just a trick of your senses and that it is just a hallucination, for you surely can’t actually appear the way that the girl in the mirror does, right?
 You find your visage once again on the mirror in an irrational need to confirm this only to widen your eyes at what greets you, for it is you that peers curiously back at yourself, your hand reaching out to run your fingers down the image of you that is set behind it.
 Your friends step back from you when your hand lowers and you turn to them with joyous tears that threaten to ruin all the work they labored so much from as they quickly fan the air around you in attempt to keep them trapped within your eyes as you laugh, your arms shooting out to welcome them all in a warm embrace that you are sure to thank them incessantly within.
 You enfold them in your arms until the sun’s rays strain to reach you, it’s descent into the night being announced with the raucously reverberating howl from the forest that has your blood singing in the familiarity that it is carried to you with.
 It finds your ears even here and you perk up, your wolf barking in need to go and wait for the alpha that every fiber of your being tells you is near as your best friend looks to you in understanding as she says, “Go on, Y/N. Don’t worry about us.  He’s waiting for you. Go to him.”
 You need no further coaxing as your feet move of their volition, your fingers closing around the mended trousers while you pull the furs your alpha had given to you tight around you, for it was tradition that omegas were not to expose skin before the Offering Ceremony and to be wrapped in an outer covering that preserved their purity until they were ready to shed it upon commencement of the event and acceptance of their alpha.
 The golden disk that once sat high in the sky now has dipped halfway below the horizon, but you need none of its light to locate the alpha that calls you forth as you tread tirelessly on until your nose brings you to the edge of the forest where an old trace of Jungkook still lingers.
 You crouch to leave his fixed clothing by the bark of one aged tree as you walk on, narrowing your eyes as you attempt to see beyond the long line of browned stalks that stretch on as far as the eye can see.
 Anticipation flaps with the fierceness of a black swan within you and when you hear the snap of a branch somewhere off to your left, you enter the thicket’s threshold without hesitation in your baser being’s need to relish in the warmth of your alpha.
 The stench of death thickly layers the air as you wrinkle your nose and as you find yourself standing before the broken limb of the tree, that’s when the dark silhouette of a figure steps out from behind it.
 The sun’s fading rays blind you to whoever you’ve found, but the voice that soon lathers itself all too heavily and viscously over your skin has your hair standing on end as it saccharinely presses, “Were you looking for someone? It’s okay, omega, you can tell me that you were trying to find me and profess your love to me. Everyone else does.”
 You roll your eyes at his vain vanity, “Actually, Taehyung, I was just trying to find my alpha who happens to be nearby and if he finds you here, he’s not going to take too kindly to that.”
 You turn away from the alpha, but Taehyung predatorily stalks after you and before you realize what’s happened, he’s in front of you to halt your movements, a twisted grin marring his features as he sniffs you, a tremor wracking his body as he does that has your blood running cold.
 “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, omega,” he tries to reach for you and you take a step back, not wanting his odor nor his filthy touch to stain you, “See, Jeon won’t be back for some time, sweet thing. He’s still on the mountain hauling back his kills that he’ll be too late to bargain for you with.”
 Your stomach drops to the recesses of your body as you try to move away from the alpha that hounds after you while your fingers tighten over the furs that cover you from his roving irises that roam all over you, your skin crawling everywhere that his attention slithers over.
 In the eyes that are glazed over from the onset of a rut, there is no care there. There is only gluttonous greed that bats away anything and everything that is not you.
 Your omega harks for you to submit under the alpha’s penetrating gaze, but you resist it as your own alpha’s voice traipses through your mind.
 “I will not tolerate anyone that attempts to take what is mine.”
 It is that thought that has you pushing past the instinct to yield to the alpha before you now as you shake your head, the surety set in your eyes amusing Taehyung as you spew its fires, “I would advise that you move away from me before you do something that you will regret. Your pack alpha has already made his claim on me and will not hesitate to punish you if you tarnish what belongs to him.”
 Your defiance has the alpha’s cock harden impossibly more amidst the divine incense you emit from freshly opened pores. No omega had dared to talk back to him before and it was inebriating.
 “Stars, you really are lust if it had a form, she-wolf,” the shadow convulses with dark laughter that has goosebumps growing along your skin as you back away, “Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You smell sweet as fuck, too…I wonder if you taste just as good.”
 Fear has your body begin to lock into place when your back nears the rough bark of a tree, “Do not do this, Taehyung. You will face wrath the likes of which you’ve never seen if you so much as lay a finger on me. I want nothing to do with you, do you understand?”
 A grin curls with malicious intent along its edges as he takes a step forward until he’s only inches away from you as he taunts, “Oh? You want nothing to do with me? Perhaps you shouldn’t be striding around smelling like temptation and sex in that little dress then, huh? You omegas always have a flair for driving us crazy when you present, but fuck, Y/N, no one holds a candle to you. I think,” his eyes glint dangerously when your back hits the thick trunk of the tree, “that you should be claimed by a real alpha that can treat you better than Jeon ever could.”
 “Taehyung,” you try through a dry mouth,” Stop. I don’t want this. Jungkook is the one I wish to bear the mark of, not you.”
 Panic sets in and seeps icily across every vein when one hand comes to rest next to your head, his eyes burning a hole into your neck as he makes a sound of consideration, “Such a lucky happenstance that the pack alpha didn’t think to mark what was his if he didn’t wish for others to taint it.”
 The alpha nears and the ache between your knuckles warrants the incoming protraction of unguis, but before they can make their appearance, there’s a raged roar born entirely of aggression that threateningly thunders through the woodland. It is stormed by the fury that is set between the crackling of claws fulminating fiercely over the trunks of trees somewhere behind you.
 It takes only one inhale through your nostrils to know who has joined you, your heart pounding faster in response as your wolf cries for its mate while his scent thaws the ice within your body that Taehyung had foolishly frozen within it.
 “I thought I made myself clear to you, boy,”  the sound bleeds into a menacing snarl from behind you and Taehyung stops in his tracks, seized as he is by the overpowering command of the alpha ranked higher even than him as Jungkook’s brooding aura pierces him like an icicle in the coldness of the familiar voice,” She’s mine. I would advise you back the fuck away from my mate before I do much worse to you than break both of your arms the last time you felt it wise to try to fucking disobey me.”
 In the chill of the frigid air that has his beast wanting to tuck its tail between its legs, Taehyung tries to ignore it as he dissentingly jeers, “Is she yours? Unfortunate that I don’t see your mark on her then, pack alpha,” Taehyung sneers, his eyes still settled on yours, though your attention is far from him at this point as you stare longingly towards the origin of where nails scrape furiously into the skins of the trees as he dares to challenge, “You are not the only wolf that thirsts for a she-wolf as parching as this one, Jeon. I could get drunk off her scent alone and you expect me to just sit back and allow you to take such an appealing aperitif away from me? Sorry, but I want to taste her myself and there’s nothing that you can do to-“
 The rest of whatever the younger alpha had been wanting to say never makes it past the confines of his mouth, for there’s a blur of golden skin that flashes before you and suddenly, Taehyung has been launched several feet into the air only for his spine to collide into the back of an old, stocky evergreen tree.
 The bark screams against the contact in the deafening series of snaps as the foolish alpha is slammed so forcefully into it that, like an arrow, his body shoots cleanly through the aged integument as the oaken pillar that has been broken in half falls to the forest floor with a thud.
 Golden irises find you under their attention as your alpha steps from behind you, your blood warming at his heated touch when he grasps your chin between his fingers to assess you for damage before laying his forehead against your own as you reach out for him, the pads of your fingers lightly trailing tenderly along his jawline as you quietly whisper,” Alpha.”
 Jungkook nuzzles you protectively before he rumbles out, “My omega. Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”
 He’s like a furnace in the way that his skin is calefied with the intensity of the sun and you purr when he nudges at your neck as your palm finds its place where his heart beats like a drum against you as you tell him, “No, Jungkook. With you around to keep me safe, he never got that far. He was about to, but you didn’t let him, my alpha.”
 Your alpha bristles at that, his irises dimming in light of your admission as he growls, “He nearly did. He would have if I hadn’t come when I did. I sensed your scent souring and it led me here. Had I been just a bit later, I nearly would have lost what was mine,” you watch in awe how his canines draw themselves out of his gums, captivated by the way that they lengthen and grow in size until they protrude out of his mouth in their large size that is much more massive than the average alpha as he pulls away from the nook in your neck to lay a callused palm along your jaw as he utters, “I need you to stay here for me, pretty. That fucking fool needs to be reminded of who is in charge here and I intend to jog his pitiful memory so that he never forgets it.”
 He draws away entirely too soon as you whimper in his absence and you, with your eyes magnetized only for him, observe with interest the way that he strides heavily and imposingly through the cluster of trees to bear down upon the collapsed body that is a mess of tangled limbs under the broken arm of the oak he’d been forcefully thrown against.
Your alpha’s hair falls wildly over his face and, in the waning light of the sun, his eyes bear down balefully over the younger alpha as he stands nude save for the mended article of clothing covering his lower half that you had dutifully brought for him. 
 Fury is palpable in the way that it looms like a shadow off of Jungkook, in the way that it clings to his every muscle when he snaps with glistening incisors at the downed alpha as he seethes, “It seems that you’ve lost sight of who is at the top of the food chain, boy,” Your alpha towers intimidatingly over Taehyung, who hisses at him, “The one on top gets the pick of the fucking litter and that, Taehyung, has never been you. I am your pack alpha and I am the only wolf that can command all of you alphas beneath me. It’s time that I discipline you to make you aware of that fact.”
 You hardly have time to process the popping sound of bones before your alpha has lodged five razor-edged, serrated claws deep into the recesses of Taehyung’s left shoulder as the younger alpha yowls out in pain that can be heard miles away in its dismal din.
 Your alpha marvels at the crimson fluid that stains him as the red tears of Taehyung’s wounds pool around your alpha’s digits only to trickle sadly downward until they are one with the earth.
 Jungkook snarls forbiddingly when Taehyung squirms underneath him to hound out, “What happened to that mouth you like to fucking flap all the time? Too scared now to use it, boy?” Your alpha leans forward with anger flashing in his eyes, “I would suggest that you don’t fuck with me again, little wolf. You’re going to get much more than the fucking claws next time should you be foolish enough to try.”
 Your alpha draws his other arm back, your eyes widening in the darkness that is settling its dark shroud over him.
 Before another set of claws can embed themselves within the younger alpha, you call for your own and through the cloak of negative emotion that has begun to suffocate him, your voice slips between it to caress the ire of his baser being.
 When your smaller fingers enclose around the wrist of his bloodied hand, you gently coax his claws out of Taehyung, who crumples atop of the brambles along the woodland with a thump as you press yourself to your alpha’s back to offer with a soft voice, “Come back to me now, alpha. Your mate does not wish to see you so wracked by your fury. You’ve made your point clear to both him and to me.”
 Jungkook inhales deeply only for his muscles to loosen while your sweet scent laces itself around him as he turns to utter, “My omega, it is because of my mate that I must resort to the animal within me,” You watch as the dark emotion recedes slowly from his irises as he imbibes you, entirely too parched of you for so long as an emotion you’ve yet to understand intensifies in its wake when he confesses, “I can hardly help that when you beckon me so, pretty.”
2K notes · View notes
jujutsu-headcanons · 4 years ago
Text
Gojo Satoru general headcanons
Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.
Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.
He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.
All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.
Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 
This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.
That doesn't mean he did the work tho
Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work
Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him
A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone
Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman
Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because
He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 
He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.
Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop
Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay
He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys
He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight
It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?
He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically
He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it
He has really cold hands and feet
He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o
He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o
It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry
Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"
He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face
He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair
He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts
No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses
His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month
They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses
Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on
Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind
Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 
He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know
He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.
So about his driver's license;
He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.
Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets
It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad
This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though
He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-
Gojo has a key
You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 
Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious
He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess
The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.
He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror
Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes
Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck
He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.
Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru
Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.
He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 
He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-
It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 
Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.
He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral
Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in
Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it
Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it
Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine
Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"
I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there
As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco
He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever
He will literally just stare at you and giggle
It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why
Its because he respects women
He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.
The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 
He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 
When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.
He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.
Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess
He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 
He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored
This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored
He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power
I canon him as being borderline sadistic
This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated
White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.
He is Sakata Gintoki
He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og
He's hella bilingual
Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 
He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan
Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months
Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week
Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality
Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.
Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o
Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn
976 notes · View notes
coffee-and-quill · 4 years ago
Text
Birthday Wishes Pt. 2
Stucky x Reader: You have been feeling neglected lately, but Bucky and Steve promised they would be there for your birthday. When they don’t show up, you are left feeling broken, and they are left wondering how they will every make it up to you
Authors Note: It took a long time to figure out how I wanted to end this. Relationships are hard, they are constant work and give/take. It takes communication and understanding for all parties to feel heard and loved. I hope y’all enjoy, and please let me know if there’s anything else you would like to see from me!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had been three weeks since Steve had seen you, talked to you, held you in his arms. Three weeks of radio silence, and it was killing him. He and Bucky had gone to your parent’s house the morning after they discovered you were missing. As if they weren’t feeling awful enough, the icy look your mother had given them so different from the warm, caring smile they were used to, sent shockwaves through their chests. Steve had begged to talk to you, but your mother had told them that you had left early that morning. You were going somewhere they couldn’t find you or bother you. When Bucky had tried to get more information, she had slammed the door in their faces.
              It took two more days of searching and desperation to figure out that Tony had helped you go completely off grid. “It’s not my place to tell you where she is, you shouldn’t have fucked up this bad,” the billionaire had told them when they tried to force your location out of him. He wasn’t wrong, and that set a heavy weight on their chests like nothing they had never felt before.
              Steve tried to go back to work, but every time he tried to buckle down and focus, or to accept a mission, he thought of your face. What if you wanted to talk to them? What if you came back and he was so caught up in his work again that he lost you for good? He might have already lost you, and the thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees gasping for breath. He felt small, smaller than he’d ever felt in his life. He would take being a sickly, scrawny kid in the 40s over these feelings any day. It got to the point where Fury told him to go home and not come back until his head was in the game again. “At this rate,” the director had grumbled, “You’re likely to get yourself or someone else seriously hurt if you continue as you are.” Steve didn’t argue. Instead, he slumped home, collapsed on the couch, and sobbed. Pain and heartbreak were the only things he knew anymore.
              Bucky was no better. After the acceptance that there was no finding you until you wanted to be found, the former assassin completely shut down. He barely ate and never slept anymore. How could he when there was the constant reminder that you were no longer in his life, no longer snuggled safely between Steve and him. The nightmares came back full force. He had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up screaming in a cold sweat. Now, instead of visuals of Hydra and the chair, and the blood and death that followed him like a storm, he had nightmare of you telling him you were done with him. You told him with a stone face that you’d never loved him, that you could never love a murderer, and you left with him begging and screaming on the floor. During the day he stayed in bed. He felt useless and weak, so, so weak. He was used to suffering, used to the constant weight of guilt on his chest. But this, this feeling, this guilt was far worse. People are constantly telling him that his actions as the Winter Soldier were not his fault, but this was all on him. There was no scapegoat, no evil organizations pulling the strings, no excuses, no one else to blame but himself. He was the reason you were gone, and it was destroying him.
 ()()()()()()()()()
                Three weeks, and you were feeling like absolute shit. You barely slept, ate only what you could unwrap in seconds, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t showered in at least a week. You couldn’t tell what day it was; time seemed to slip and slide together in a meaningless fuzz in your mind. Most days found you on the small couch of the cabin Tony had so graciously offered you, the TV on a low hum in the background playing some sort of celebrity reality program. Not that you really cared. Nothing really held your interest for long anyway. Your thoughts were stuck back in your apartment with your boys. You kept replaying the better times over and over, trying to figure out where you went wrong.
Back when you first got together, Steve and Bucky had been so sweet, so shy when bringing up the idea, so afraid that you would turn them away and they would lose the best thing that had happened to them since they were reunited. When you told them you wanted to give it a try, they had been ecstatic. Their excitement was infectious, buzzing around you like two overenergized puppies who had just been given the best treats of their lives. Those first few months had been blissful, none of you willing to be parted from the other longer than a day or so. You went on dates, ate crappy Chinese food together, snuggled up to each other on the cold nights.
You were crying again thinking about those times. You missed being with your boys more than ever, missed the connection and the feeling of safety and security. You missed the two people who knew you better than you could ever know yourself. You had been stuck on a loop for the past three weeks. Where did it go wrong? When did it happen and how did you not notice? Was it you? God, if you could only talk to them. You had so many questions, so many concerns. Mostly, however, you just wanted a hug. You just wanted to be held between your Stevie and your Bucky and you wanted to feel loved.
It had been around midday, after shoving down a lukewarm hot pocket, that you heard the front door of the cabin click open.
“Damn,” came the snarky voice of Tony Stark, “You look worse than I did after that one Easter party I threw.” Even through the fog in your brain, you couldn’t help but smile.
“That was your own fault, Stark,” you sassed, “Who the hell takes that many tequila shots at a brunch party?”
The billionaire scoffed. “Obviously you have no sense of danger, babe.” You flipped him the finger. “So,” he said, lifting your feet up so he could make himself comfortable on the cushy couch, “It’s obvious to me and to literally everyone else that something went on between you and the two super stooges back home. And by the way they have been moping around the tower and by the grease buildup in Barnes’ hair, they are fairing about as well as you.”
Your ears perked up at the information. You should feel satisfied that Steve and Bucky were feeling miserable for what they did. You should feel relieved that they are getting a taste of what they put you through. Instead, you just felt your heart sink into your stomach. No matter how angry you were at them, you could never stand the thought of them in pain.
“I’m not saying the two don’t deserve it,” Tony continued, “I’m just saying that if your going to make them suffer, at least do it in a way that you aren’t suffering as well.”
“I don’t want to make them suffer,” came you soft reply.
“No?”
“I was hurt.” The tears that had been gathering in your eye dripped down your face at your watery tone. “I was hurt, and angry, and I just felt like I had to run to escape those feelings, so I came here. But the longer I stayed, the less hurt and angry I felt. And then the sadness and loneliness came and I felt like I was drowning, and all I wanted was to be back with them. But I had already stayed away for so long. What if they don’t want me anymore? Or they think we can fix things? What if they realize they aren’t willing to try, Tony? I don’t think I could handle that.”
Tony scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a huge breath. “I can’t answer those questions for you, sweetheart. Lord knows if I could take the pain away, I would. But nothing is going to happen with you sitting here and refusing to talk to them.” You nodded, knowing that what he was saying was logical. You couldn’t solve anything by sitting around and moping, and lord knows you won’t solve anything by running away.
You took a deep breath “Ok. I’m ready to come home.”
“Good.” Tony stood up and adjusted his suit. “Because honestly, the boys have start loitering outside my lab looking like a couple of drowned kittens, and it’s depressing everyone.” He held out his hand for you, which you graciously took, standing and hissing out your cramped muscles. Tony took one step towards the door before stopping suddenly and turning back. “Maybe you should shower first. You stink like that casserole Clint tried to make for dinner that one time.”
Tony barely dodged the chipped mug thrown at his head.
 ()()()()()()()()()
                When you showed up to the apartment you shared with Bucky and Steve, your nerves had been on fire. Steve had opened the door looking he hadn’t slept since you had seen him last. His eyes widened and his arms twitched towards you instinctively, wanting to wrap you in in them and never let go. He held himself back, though it left a deep ache in his chest to do so. You wanted nothing more to go to him, to card you fingers through his hair and reassure him that everything was fine, that you were here and you would never leave again. You had to clutch the straps of your bag until your knuckles were white to stop yourself.
              “We need to talk.” Your voice was small, fragile. You wanted to run and hide all over again, but you knew this needed to be done. Steve nodded jerkily, widening the door to allow you to enter. Visually, everything looked the same; the couch was in the living room, blankets thrown haphazardly across the back, and the table sat in the kitchen with its three mismatched chairs and well-loved surface. However, as you moved further into the space, you noticed a staleness to the air that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t a home anymore, and the thought made you frown deeply.
              Steve closed the door softly behind you. “I’ll go get Bucky,” he murmured, and you shivered. God help you, you were so in love with these men. Even tired and beat down, Steve’s voice still had an effect on you. It reminded you of soft kisses over bare skin in the early morning hours before the rest of the world was awake, of tender love and honey sweet words spoken between breathy moans.
              You pushed the memory to the back of your mind as Steve reentered, Bucky following close behind. You felt your breath catch at his appearance. He looked broken. Dark circles fell under lightless eyes, the grief and despair that sat heavy on his shoulders was visible in the hunch he wore, as if he was being physically crushed by its weight. You could have honestly cried if it were a different situation.
              At the sight of you standing in the living room, he cracked a smile that looked almost painful. “Hey, Doll. I missed you,” he rasped. Hi voice was scratchy and rough from crying. Despite the somber tension that hung in the room like mist, you felt a sense of peace wash over you at the presence of your boys. Despite your nerves, despite your fears and reservations, you smiled at them. The tension melted from Bucky and Steve’s shoulders, and you knew everything would be okay. You could do this.
 ()()()()()()()()()
                The three of you spent hours talking. You told them everything: your fear of being left behind and forgotten, your frustrations with always feeling second place to the duties as avengers, the anger of that night and the emotions of the last three weeks. In turn, they shared their guilt and frustration at their own actions. They told you how they felt that being avengers was the only thing they could do to help people, it was the only thing they knew, and they had been scared to deviate from that routine, even when it had started pushing you away. They shared the fear they felt at finding you gone, and the terror and grief that had set in when they realized you might not come back and that was it for the three of you. Finally, they shared their confession that nothing they had done or would ever do as avengers would be more important than you. They wanted to change, to get better. They wanted to do it for you.
              What started as you sitting across from them quickly transitioned into the three of you cuddled together on the couch, seemingly one entity. Weeks of no contact had starved the boys of your touch, and they couldn’t remove themselves from you if they wanted to. Bucky lay across you legs with his head in your lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. You hand was tangled in his hair, massaging the base of his skull. Your other hand was gripped tightly in Steve’s as you leaned back into his broad chest. His blond head rested comfortably on your shoulder, turned inward to whisper his apologies into the exposed skin of your neck. Every once and a while he would leave a lingering kiss there, the skin tingling nonstop from the feel of his lips. You felt more relaxed than you had in weeks. That night you fell asleep in your bed, bracketed by the two most important people in your life. You would be okay.
292 notes · View notes
ellavogues · 4 years ago
Text
london sunrises - harry styles
Tumblr media
summary: harry made you feel like home in a place far from it, but stupidly ruins it in fear of losing you
a/n: hey, second fic in two days! let me know your thoughtsss :) thanks for reading angels
Sometimes you wish you were seventeen again.
The carelessness, easy breezy lifestyle you lead was problematic and unproductive, but you never felt more free. Even now as an adult, unrestricted by menial rules made by your parents or your school, you don’t feel the same liberty as you felt when you were seventeen.
Maybe it was him that made you feel so free.
You met him at sixteen, when you moved countries from the USA to England. Originally pessimistic about the complete upheaval of your life, you took it upon yourself to not even try and socialise and familiarise yourself with people at your new school.
But one day, around a week after you moved, you were sat on the bus, headphones in your ear and gazing out the window as you waited for the bus driver to start the journey home, a brown, curly haired boy sat next to you, sporting a huge grin on his face.
“I’m Harry,” he introduced himself, extending his hand as if to ask you to shake it. “Mind if I sit here?”
You shake your head, “Yeah, go ahead. I’m Y/N.”
“You’re new, right? We’ve got homeroom and science together I think.”
He’s smiling the whole bus ride, cracking stupid jokes and telling stupid stories, right up until you get off at your stop. You’re smiling too, feeling grateful to have met a friend in this new place.
The next day, he sat next to you in homeroom and science, and you conversed as if you had known each other for years. He was just that easy to talk to, always able to quickly come up with a witty, smartass remark to whatever you may say and chuckling to himself when you get slightly irritated at his teasing. He noticed you sitting by yourself at lunch, and insisted you sit with him and his mates.
Over time, your friendship with Harry gradually and organically blossomed into something more. Worried that it was only a one-sided feeling, you kept it to yourself and put on a front when you were around him, attempting to veil your new-found feelings with excessive teasing and smart remarks at his expense. But keeping up appearances proved to be difficult as time progressed and the two of you got closer and closer and as he got to know you better, picking up on the way you deflect your emotions.
One night, after a lot of weed and talking, you both found yourselves on Harry’s roof, just above his window to his room. His parent’s room was thankfully on the other end of the house and given it being the early hours of the morning, they were surely asleep. At least you hoped they were, he did manage to make you laugh louder than you thought possible and you crossed your fingers that they didn’t hear the two of you. The night sky was full of stars, you remember, and you finally didn’t have a weight on your shoulders, finally comfortable enough to be your true, authentic self and genuinely happy for the first time since you moved. Neither of you realised how long you had been up there, talking, laughing, smoking, until little glints of orange light began peaking through the clouds in the sky, the birds starting to sing their morning songs. You were honestly disappointed that the memory was over, that the rare moment that you got to feel like yourself alone with Harry had come to its inevitable end.
It was hard making friends in a new city, but his cheeky grin made it so easy to be his friend. 
The next time you went up there, you had your first kiss. It was like you thought it would be, your friends implanting in your mind that your first kiss is never as special as it is romanticised on film, but the kiss with Harry made butterflies swarm in your stomach, his soft lips feeling like the closest thing to home in this foreign city that with him you’ve grown to love. You later found out that it was his first kiss too, making the moment feel more special.
You were giddy again that night, but not because you had alcohol. A smile was stuck on your face with no setback being able to push you out of this happy trance. Harry loved seeing you happy, he loved the way your eyes got that little sparkle in them when you got all excited, a detail that no one else would be able to notice. He made you feel giddy in the best way possible, the feeling almost addicting. Dangerously, it seemed you had the same effect on him. 
It seems for once the two of you were on the same page about your feelings, making a hopeful promise of what the future may hold
By the time you were seventeen, London sunrises on Harry’s roof after a long night of talking and weed have become a habit for the two of you. Something about being wrapped up in each other’s presence, in a space just for the two of you and distanced just enough from the world around you, is incredibly addictive. But the rays of sunlight pop the little bubble over you and Harry every time, though despite your disappointment of being brought back from your own perfect world where all you have and need is each other, you’re quick to get over it because it just means it’s time to climb back in his window and go to sleep in each other's arms.
All you had with him was friendship, but it felt like so much more than that. He gave you butterflies, he made you feel free and invited you to be a part of his world when you had no one. When you were with him, you had nothing to hide. He gave you this warm feeling that you had never felt before, a safe feeling. A feeling of home.
All you desperately wanted was to be more than friends, but you were simultaneously so scared of losing what you had with him. The love you had him was unfathomable, you couldn’t wrap your head around it and nothing made you more scared than losing him.
He was scared, too.
Despite being enlightened that your feelings were mutual, Harry couldn’t comprehend in his mind what you had, It didn’t make sense to him that you could love each other so deeply but not be together. He wanted to be mindful that you were heading in completely different directions in life, knowing your dreams of starting a startup and his dreams of having a career in music. He was scared that if you both wanted different things you’d lose each other forever. And he can’t lose you. 
So he pulled away. He forgot to invite you to his X-Factor audition, making up some lame excuse that everything’s been so hectic and he knew how stressed you were about our own future. It hurt your feelings, because in spite of his carefully crafted excuses, you could tell he didn’t invite you on purpose. 
It quickly became apparent that not inviting you wasn’t just a mistake, because he didn’t hold you safely and securely in his arms after you watched the sunrise anymore, kissing the back of your head as you fell asleep tangled in each other. He didn’t kiss you like he used to, no butterflies forming in either of your stomachs, his hand barely grazing your cheeks as he reluctantly connected your lips. Eventually he barely kissed you at all. 
He wanted you so bad, but he wasn’t willing to lose you to get you.
But he pulled so far away that you were barely in sight anymore. He tried to convince himself it was for the best, because at least this way you’d always be on good terms and he’d always have you in his life. He’d always have a part of you. But he missed the smell of you in his sheets, he missed the way you rubbed your nose against his when you were sleepy. He missed making you laugh so hard that you were practically falling off the roof (not that he’d ever let that happen, you were too secure in his arms to even slip an inch.
He wanted all of you, the good, the bad, the ugly. He wanted to wake up and see the remnants of your makeup from the night before still on your face, your sleepy smile completing the look. More than anything, he wanted to have you as his, to announce to everyone that he finally got the girl.
You wanted him just as bad, but his distance hurt you more than you’d ever admit to him. Harry had always made you feel free, like you can have anything you could possibly want. That is, except for him. 
That was the fucking catch. He gave you everything you could have ever wanted. You had the passion, the love, the sensitivity, the jokes. You had it all with him, except you never had him. That’s what sucked the most.
It wasn’t til graduation that you finally worked up the courage to put everything on the line. You went back with him to his house after everything with the school finished, him driving you because even after all this time, he absolutely never trusts your driving. 
“We need to talk,” you start ambiguously.
He laughs, raising his eyebrows as he turns to you for a second, “Should I be scared?”
“Maybe,” you mumble back, anxious and growing fidgety in the seat next to him. Harry clocked this, his hand coming to rest over yours to calm your fidgets down. Glancing over at you briefly, the worry was evident in his features. “H, you’ve always brought out the best in me and made me feel special when I had absolutely no one. I didn’t need anyone else because your friendship, our relationship is all I’ve ever needed. I mean, we’ve dreamt about our futures while we were fucking high on your roof, but when I told you about what I want in my future, I never told you that I wanted you. You’re all I see when I see my life five years from now. You’re all I want, H.”
Harry goes unusually quiet, processing what you told him. It’s uncomfortable, usually by now he would’ve made some inappropriate joke, called you stupid or even just reacted in some way. It’s painful when he looks at you for a moment as he’s stopped as a stop light, and it’s blatantly obvious to you that he’s carefully considering what to say next. 
“Y/N, you’re my bestfriend-“
“Fuck that,” you laugh dryly, unimpressed and masking your hurt with anger.
“Y/N-“
“No,” you raise your voice slightly. “I fucking get it. It’s fine. But I can’t be your friend, Harry. Fuck that. I want more than that.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” his voice is a whisper, tears beginning to form in his eyes before he roughly wipes them away, clearing his vision as he parks in front of his house and turns to meet your gaze. “I can’t lose you.”
“And I can’t be just your friend.”
This moment still replayed in your head like a broken record for years later. 
Maybe you were stupid for letting him go, but you might’ve driven yourself insane if you were still his best friend after everything that you’ve been through together. It wasn’t sustainable for you to continue to just be there, waiting for him to decide that you’re what he wants or, scarily, sticking by him and watching him be with another girl. It would have ruined you to see him treat another girl the way you wanted him to treat you.
You ran into him when he was strolling London a few years later, on his rare day off from touring and concerts and meetings. Even though the run in was supposed to be short you got to talking and laughing and he saw that sparkle in your eye again, something that he hadn’t seen in years and something that made him feel at home. Old habits die hard, and you and Harry ended up staying up all night together, catching up. It felt like you were seventeen again, hopelessly and foolishly in love with a man you could never have.
Before you left the next morning, he grabbed your wrist, turning you to face him. “I have to see you again. Please, Y/N, don’t say goodbye forever.”
Butterflies erupted in your stomach, contented that after all these years apart, you finally have a part of him again. You always had a part of him, you just didn’t know it. “Take me to your album’s party tomorrow?”
And he did, picking you up sporting that grin that made you weak in the knees. He was proud, introducing you to his friends, showing you off on his arm. It felt right.
As the night started getting old, Harry laced his fingers in yours and led you out to the balcony, escaping the chaos and noise inside and making the world just about the two of you. Letting go of his hand, you stepped towards the railing and admired the view while Harry admired you, breath taken away as you turned your head back at him and smiled. Harry wondered how he ever let you go.
Tapping your shoulder gently, he prompts you to turn around to face him. His hand finds your cheek, tilting your face to face his and leaning in to kiss you, lips soft against yours and his free hand finding its home on your hip.
He finally felt like yours again.
200 notes · View notes
egcdeath · 4 years ago
Text
campers’ quarrel
Tumblr media
pairing: steve rogers x reader (ft. mentions of other avengers)
summary: who would’ve guessed that a camping trip with your team and a man who you couldn’t stand would go south so quickly? (that’s a rheotical question.)
warnings: mentions of a broken bone, kind of enemies to lovers, swearing
word count: 2.4k
author’s note: i’ve honestly never gone camping before. hopefully that’s not to obvious. enjoy! 
You and Steve never really clicked. From the start of your work as an Avenger, he’d clearly been wary of you, and being new, you didn’t want to make his disdain any worse than it already was.
This didn’t go unnoticed by your teammates. The more adjusted you became to the team, the more the teasing from them grew. And unfortunately for you, it mainly revolved around your tense relationship with Steve.
Tony constantly paired the two of you up on missions, specifically ones where you’d have to pretend to be in a relationship. Sam and Nat would tease you relentlessly at parties, sitting the team down, looking at both you and Steve, then declaring that playing spin the bottle was a necessity.
With no thanks to your teammates behavior, Steve’s wariness towards you quickly turned into animosity. At least once a week, you’d both butt heads over something as small as leaving cupboards open, or as severe as not carrying your weight during a mission.
When this tension came to a head, Tony suggested that the team go on a ‘bonding’ trip to the woods. You were not completely thrilled at this, but you were a team player, and you knew for a fact that if you refused, you’d be accused of not wanting to be around Steve for an extended period of time.
That’s how you ended up in the back of a Subaru, looking at the window aimlessly while attempting to drown out the intense conversation between Natasha and Bucky over the efficiency of some gun you’d never heard of with the music in your headphones.
“Hey,” you felt a little tap on your shoulder, and you lifted one of the earbuds out of your ear. Steve gave you a right smile, “Can you turn it down some? I can hear your music from over here.”
You sighed softly. It was always something with the super soldier. “Sorry, Steve. Not all of us have super hearing.” You turned your music down regardless, but sent a bitchy text about Steve to Wanda after doing so.
“It doesn’t take a super serum to hear all of that,” Steve muttered quietly to himself. Fortunately, for the peace of everyone in the car, you didn’t hear the comment. However, you did notice Sam looking back and forth between you and Steve, and it did make you ask yourself what exactly you’d missed.
You really were not looking forward to this trip.
——
Soon after your car arrived, the camper containing the rest of your teammates made it to the campsite as well.
“All right guys,” Tony announced while rounding everyone up in a circle, “We need to experience the full camping experience. That means no powers to create whole campsites, looking at you Wanda. It also means now crushing small game with metal arms to feed the rest of us.”
“Wonder who that’s directed at,” Bucky muttered.
“Now, everyone has a part to play in setting up shop. Take it away, Pep.”
You couldn’t help but to giggle at the fact that Tony and Pepper were treating this like some sort of Keynote presentation.
“Thanks, Tony,” Pepper looked down at the clipboard she was holding. “Okay, Bucky and Sam, you’re on tent duty. Nat, Wanda, find us something to eat. Y/N, Steve, grab some firewood for us. Banner, Rhodey, once the firewood is here, you’re responsible for starting the actual fire. Good luck everyone!” Pepper said cheerily, before waving a dismissive hand to send you all off.
To say you were pissed about being paired with Steve was an understatement. But you refused to make a scene. You silently began walking behind Steve, who seemed to not want to interact with you either.
That’s how the majority of your trek for wood went. Silent and tense. You really just wanted to find any piece of wood, but it was just your luck that the ground was extremely damp, and all the wood that you came across was similarly damp and unusable.
It was strange, because time seemed to be going by very slowly, yet extremely fast at the same time. You swore that in a matter of moments, the sun was already making her way down, indicating that night was near.
“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you broke what felt like the century long silence between the two of you. “Can we just give up already? I mean, we’re clearly not gonna find any good wood, and we keep getting further from camp, and we’re about to be in complete darkness.” “It’s fine, Y/N. I brought a flashlight and I’m sure that we’ll find something somewhere. Stop being such a downer.” You swore you could hear Steve roll his eyes as he went about crouching in the dirt in his search for fallen tree branches.
“I’m not being a downer, I’m being realistic. We need to go soon. We can just explain to the team that all the wood was bad,” you stood up straight, pacing around the area Steve was searching in.
“You really wanna let everyone down?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You’re not being dramatic enough. Look, I just found some dry wood. Come’ere and help me find some more.” He beckoned you over with his hand.
On your way over, you failed to notice a rather large log, and tripped rather forcefully over it, twisting your ankle dramatically in the process.
A sharp, searing pain traveled up your entire leg, and you yelped out in pain before falling onto Steve’s back, which hurt almost equally.
“OW! What the fuck!” You yelped before rolling onto the damp forrest floor.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Steve quickly turned around, and leaned over your sprawled body.
“I swear to God I just broke my ankle. And then your back decided to cripple me some more. Did you even feel it?”
“Of course I felt it. Hey, get up. Let’s see if you can walk. It’s probably not even broken,” He stepped back then stood up, extending a hand down to you to help you up. You hesitantly took his hand, somewhat nervous of what holding this man’s hand could awake in you, then attempted to stand up.
The moment you felt the weight shift to your left foot, you collapsed back onto the floor with a groan. The pain made tears well in your eyes, and you quickly became embarrassed with the emotions you were displaying in front of Steve.
“I can’t Steve. Can you call 911 or like, Tony or something?” You turned your face away from Steve’s eyeline so that he wouldn’t see you cry, but you knew the waver in your voice was betraying you.
He slipped his phone out of his pocket, then shook his head, “No reception. I’m sorry, Y/N.” The apology felt genuine, and it was kind of throwing you off. The air of annoyance that had seemed to always be between the two of you felt like it had faded away, for just a moment of seriousness.
“Can you, uh,” you awkwardly rubbed your warm cheeks at the thought of what you were about to ask. “Can you carry me back to camp?”
“I guess we don’t really have any other option.”
“Let’s just… not mention it. If anyone ever asks, this never happened. And you need to forget about it ever happening too,” as Steve began to scoop you up, you  added one more thing. “I’m not even joking, Steven. I swear to God I’ll make Bruce make an amnesia serum so you forget this ever happened.”
You could feel the laugh vibrate from Steve’s chest as he carried you bridal style. You just hoped he couldn’t feel the butterflies fly throughout your stomach.
----
A few hours into being carried, the situation began to lose its novelty, and you were beginning to become more annoyed as you realized that Steve was very lost.
“Steve, do you have any idea of where you’re going?” You questioned.
“Of course I do. Just have a little patience, okay?” He glanced down at you with furrowed brows.
“Mhm.” You said sarcastically. “I swear I’ve seen this exact tree like, three times already.”
“I’m sure you have.” He responded drily.
“What’s up with you and that attitude, Steve? You’ve always had a problem with me, and I never did anything to you.”
Steve scoffed, “what attitude?”
“That attitude!” You gestured wildly with your hands.
“Well, you’re no better. It’s not like you ever tried to be my friend or anything like that.”
“That’s not true at all. I remember during one of our first team bonding nights, I kept trying to talk to you, and you kept shrugging me off.” You pushed a finger into his chest.
“That’s because you kept asking me stupid shit, like if I’d heard of Beyoncé before or if I knew what garlic powder was. Put that finger away.”
You obliged and shrugged, “maybe I don’t remember that night as well as you do. But asking you questions like that can’t be the only reason why you dislike me so much.”
“I don’t dislike you,” Steve began while walking up a new path.
“So why do you act like that to me? How was I supposed to know that?” You looked up at Steve, and in the dark, you were still impressed by his sharp facial features.
“Can we talk about something else?” Steve glanced down at you.
“Yeah, let’s talk about how this is all your fault. If you weren’t so stubborn and just gave up on finding this damn wood, I wouldn’t be here with a broken ankle and spine. And I wouldn’t be feeling your heart racing like a hummingbird’s against my back.”
Steve blushed at this, he hadn’t considered that you could feel his heart racing. If your eyes weren’t deceiving you, you could almost make out a light red tint on his face.
“Shut up, Y/N,” Okay, Steve was definitely blushing. “If my heartbeat is annoying you so much, would you rather me leave you out on the ground for the bears to find you, and for you to become worm food?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” He stopped in his tracks, then began to lower you down, excruciatingly slowly.
“Steve! Okay, okay. I’m sorry for pointing out your heartbeat. I just wouldn’t want your geriatric ass having a heart attack on me. Now hold me.”
The both of you erupted in laughter. You honestly wondered if you and Steve stopped being such sucks to each other, if you could actually form some kind of relationship. You could see yourself being good friends with the man.
Once you both stopped laughing, a comfortable silence flooded the air. It was late, and exhaustion was clearly beginning to plague both of you. “I’m so tired,” you whined, breaking the silence.
“Me too. Should we sit down somewhere and call it a night?” Steve’s pace began to dwindle.
“I guess. It’ll probably be easier to find our way back to home base in the sun.” Steve nodded at this comment.
“I’m gonna set you on this log while I roll out the tarp. Give me a sec,” Steve followed through with his statement, then looked through his backpack to find the blue tarp for you two to lay on.
You waited patiently for Steve to roll it out, then when he did, you slid onto it, wincing in the process at your throbbing ankle.
“You okay?” Steve asked, a genuine concern in his voice as he sat down next to you on the tarp.
“‘m fine.” You mumbled, throwing your arm over your face and sighing.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you to the campsite.” Steve said softly beside you. “Really.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away from you as you turned your head to look at him.
“It’s okay Steve. I’ll probably be fine. Nothing a night in medbay can’t fix, right?” You smiled a bit, even though you knew he couldn’t see it.
Even in your uncomfortable position, sleep was quickly overtaking your body. Your brain was barely functioning at this point.
You reached a hand over onto Steve’s chest, and you once again felt his heartbeat pick up. “I’m sorry that I act like this,” you mumbled, your words slurring together. “I think you’re really great.”
Steve’s hand landed on top of yours. “You’re not so bad either,” he slurred sleepily. “You know, the reason why I act like I don’t like you is ‘cause I like you a lot. You’re pretty… cool. You’re pretty and cool.”
“Aw Stevie,” you sighed happily. Steve turned his head to you and gave you a smile that you could only faintly see in the dark. “Are you cold?” you asked abruptly, interrupting the moment you two were having.
“Yes! I thought it was just me. It’s like negative 500 degrees out here-“
“Spoon me. Let’s conserve our warmth,” you hummed out, and Steve quickly and happily obliged. With that, the both of you were out like lights.
——
“Fucking finally!” Bucky cheered, making your eyes open abruptly.
“And to think we thought we’d lose our lovebirds forever.” Rhodey laughed.
You had to blink a few times before your vision (and brain) finally cleared enough to acknowledge what was happening in front of you.
The sun was up, and your whole team had showed up in front of you and Steve, watching you two spoon affectionately in your sleep.
“Ew, what?” You scooted away from Steve, then groaned at the persistent throbbing of your ankle. At this point, Steve shot up as well.
“What is going o-“ his eyes practically bulged out of his skull when he saw his teammates. “Oh shit.”
“You two have lots of explaining to do,” Sam laughed at the situation.
“Let’s start with this: I think I broke my ankle yesterday. So who wants to help me get back to camp?”
——
You sat at the kitchen table of the camper on your way back to the compound, a mug of lukewarm coffee sitting in your hands while you contemplated the weird ass night you’d just had.
While deep in your thoughts, a seat was pulled out, and none other than Steve Rogers sat right down in it.
“So, are we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?” He asked you with a bit of a smirk.
“No. I don’t think we will.”
294 notes · View notes
wendimydarling · 4 years ago
Text
Weakness
Tumblr media
Title: Weakness
Summary: Syverson and his wife get into an argument, and he shows her bratty ass how to mind.
Pairing: Syverson x First Person Reader
Word Count: 2017
Warnings: nudity, manhandling, penetrative sex, tickling.
A/N: Last request of the year, folks... I’ve got a full plate!
Could you please do a tickle fic with syverson where u guys have a fight, but then when he comes to bed late at night you tickle him to get him to talk. But then he gets annoyed at you and ends up tying you up and tickling you as a punishment, though it ends in fluff and giggles at the end? Love ur fics!
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“How many times we gonna have this argument?”
I had zero desire to do this tonight but I stood there anyway, arms crossed, nostrils flaring. Everyone in the bar was cowering away from Syverson’s intimidating hulk of a stance, but not me. I’d been with him for too long.
The guy that hit on me was far in retreat but once again, I’d been embarrassed in front of everyone by Sy taking it too seriously. He was so protective and for the most part, I didn’t mind. But I consider myself a woman that can defend herself without the aid of a man, and when said man comes in and threatens to maul any man within a ten foot radius of me, my intimidation factor gets undercut by about fifty percent.
Syverson also had his arms crossed, his legs regulation width apart and back ramrod straight. His size alone was enough to terrify most women, and even some men, but not me. I was far too pissed. Sy furrowed his brow.
“I’ll not have anyone hittin’ on my woman, especially not while I’m there to defend her,” he stated firmly. I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air.
“We’re goin’ in circles, and I ain’t doin’ this in public, especially not tonight,” I snapped. I grabbed my clutch and walked out the door, hailing a passing taxi and getting in before I could change my mind. As I gave the driver my address, I looked out the window and saw Syverson standing there, his mouth set in a stern line. A pang of excited fear shot into my belly; I had just left my husband at a bar. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Syverson made it home about twenty long minutes after I did. They had to have been the most agonizing minutes of my life, and that included the time he suddenly lost phone reception once when he was on tour. I got ready for bed while I waited for him to come home, but I knew sleep would evade me. Back and forth I paced, straightening the décor on our shelves and brushing my hair before finally coming to rest on the bed, my knees pulled up to my chest. 
I heard a car door outside and adrenaline coursed through my veins; the front door slamming shut near made me jump out of my skin. My body was rooted to the mattress, fingers fidgeting with the lacey hem of my cotton nightgown nervously. Sy entered our room, glanced at me briefly, then tore off his shirt and tossed it in the hamper as he barricaded himself in our bathroom without a word. I was in so much trouble, and my heart sank down into my stomach. Why of all nights did we have to do this tonight?
It wasn’t long before Syverson came back into the room, scowl still stubbornly etched on his face as he removed the rest of his clothes. He caught my eye and held it in silent warning; I didn’t dare look away. His belt was drawn out of its fabric station slowly and my ass clenched in apprehensive dread, but Sy just dropped it to the floor. My annoyance catapulted over my fear.
“Ya just not gonna talk to me then?” I snapped, shooting him my own glare. Syverson still didn’t speak, simply shucked his legs out of his pants and boxers and climbed under the covers, rolling over so that his back was facing me. That was the last straw.
“Sy…” I drawled, dragging a fingernail down his spine. He rotated his shoulder and huffed, but didn’t turn over. Determined, I tried again, spidering my fingers over the back of his ribs. Syverson spun around with surprising agility for a man so large and in a flash my wrist was seized. 
“Best not start somethin’ ya can’t finish, little lady,” he warned, shoving my hand away. He closed his eyes and settled back into the bed. Anyone else would have heeded Sy’s warning, but not me. I needed to talk about it. 
“Come on Sy, talk to me,” I pleaded. He just grunted. I assessed the situation, surveying his body for my plan of attack. His big arms protected most of his torso but the blanket had ridden down when he flipped over, and I could see the sharp point of his hip bone cresting through the waves of hair that graced his skin. Bingo.
I crawled on the bed carefully, sneaking a hand beneath the blanket to where Syverson’s warm girth lay nestled between his thighs. He grunted again but shifted to grant me more access; he never could say no to a blow job, no matter how mad he was. I straddled his chest and palmed him softly, smirking as he fell straight into my trap. Instead of leaning over though, I drilled my fingers into the deep pockets of his hips, relishing the way he immediately started huffing and throwing curses my way.
“If ya ain’t gonna talk to me then I’m just gonna tickle ya,” I drawled, scribbling my nails over his sensitive flesh. Sy grunted and jerked but he couldn’t quite get his hands around my torso to reach, the tickles confusing his brain and causing him to lose focus.
“Hmmm… still don’t wanna talk?” I teased, “Fine then, perhaps I should move to yer feet.”
In a flash my ankles were yanked out from under me and I was rolled underneath Sy’s heavy frame, his nimble fingers finding purchase beneath him on my sensitive ribs. I squealed and scrambled for his hands, kicking at him as I tried to stop the tickles. He just climbed on top of me and flipped around to straddle my hips, instantly immobilizing me and removing any notion I had of making it out of this alive.
“Ya think ya can just leave?” Syverson growled, pinning my arms above my head with one hand and returned to digging his fingers into my rib cage. I squealed again and fought to escape, but his thighs were an iron vice around my hips and his rough hand effortlessly held my wrists, locking me in place so that he had all the room in the world to punish me for my behavior.
“Ya thought this was over just cause you were done with it?” His fingers drilled faster, their ferocity matching the scowl on his face as I laughed helplessly.
“Try again, little lady... we ain’t over ‘til I say so.”
With that, he reverted back to his silence. I screamed and pleaded with him but he ignored me, tickling any skin he could find. When he ran out of skin to tickle he simply created more, rucking up my nightgown to gain access to my belly and navel. I laughed and wailed but my cries met a stone wall; I was too ticklish for my own good, and Syverson was mad. 
He tore my nightgown completely off me and grabbed my wrists, and I took the brief moment to gasp for air. My respite was short lived however as I noticed his intentions; he was pinning my arms beneath his knees.
“No, Sy NO, PLEASE!!” I protested, pulling uselessly against his brute strength. I knew his game, I knew where he was headed and I didn’t want it. 
“I’m sorry,” I begged him. Sy stared at me, hands on his knees, glare still firmly lodged on his face.
“I told ya not to start something ya couldn’t finish,” he said coldly. His hands travelled slowly behind him, resting along the supple flesh on my thighs.
“I know, I--KNOW,” I gasped, kicking at him. Syverson shuffled my body as I spoke, spreading my legs and trapping them between his folded knees.
“Ya just... ya wouldn’t talk to me, Sy. I didn’t want to go to bed upset, not tonight,” I admitted, gazing up at him with round eyes. I struggled under his weight, trembling as his fingertips grazed along the inner tendons that connected my legs to the rest of my body. Sy gave me a look that said I better keep talking, so I continued to explain.
“I don’t need ya to defend me all the time,” I said softly, not wanting to look at him. I knew his face would show that he was hurt, and I was right.
“That’s what I’m here for, bug,” He whispered, staring at my heaving chest as he traced circles along my sensitive loins. I shivered. God, I wanted to reach out and hold him.
“But what about when ya aren’t here?” 
Syverson’s head snapped up to look at me, fire and pain flaring in his eyes. I could see that it hadn’t occurred to him that I still got hit on when he was overseas. Remorse and understanding fell over his features, and he nodded in submission.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Still, ya need to pay fer leavin’ the bar without me.”
His fingers picked up their pace and my face scrunched up in agony. I wasn’t gonna get out of this by distracting him, and I was left with no choice but to accept my punishment. Still, I had to try.
“Sy, no don’t--” I managed to get out before he was squeezing those tendons between his thumbs and fingers, pinching every last ticklish nerve along my thighs. I thrashed and screamed, the highest-pitched squeals tumbling from my lips as he laid waste to my secret weakness, fluttering his fingers all over my mound. Time lost all meaning; had it been five minutes? Ten? I didn’t know, all I knew was that instead of tickles, my tortured pussy desired nothing more than for him to split me open and fuck me into the next century.
“NO MORE!” I begged, “SY PLEEEHEHEASE!! NO MOOOHOHORE!!”
His fingers froze and Syverson cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Ya gonna try and fight back?” he questioned, positioning his elbows on either side of my head.
“No sir,” I breathed.
“Who do you belong to?” he growled. My eyes softened and I gazed at his face, desperate to touch him, to comfort him.
“I belong to you.”
“Good girl.”
Sy released my arms and I wrapped them around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder as he did the same to me, thrusting into me to be as close as he could. He was hard as a rock, it took no more than five seconds before he was bottomed out and we two had become one flesh. It was an old song and dance and yet every time still felt like the first.
 Syverson held me close as I clung to him fiercely, my tears weaving a wet trail into my hair as his embrace coiled around me, suffocating me in the best of ways.
“I’ll be back before you know it, bug,” He crooned against my cheek, but I could hear how choked up he was and I lost it. I would never get used to him leaving.
“You better be,” I sobbed, never wanting this night to end. Tomorrow brought pain, and separation.
“Now now, no tears,” Sy shushed, cradling my face in his hands and wiping the salt that threatened to stain my face. He thrust into me, hard and wanting and I gasped, pitching my hips to meet his. My cervix was on fire, the slightest movement would send me barreling over the edge into bliss. I saw a glint in Sy’s eye, one that told me he was about to be devilishly mischievous and my arms were brought to rest above my head, fingers interlocked with mine, and kisses alighted on my nose and neck as his lips found their way to my ear. 
“Keep your arms up, bug,” he ordered, his fingertips spidering softly down my arms. No, I thought, squirming my hips and then gasping in shock as pleasure rocked through my center. Not this. Anything but this. His voice came searing into my mind, sealing my fate with one phrase.
“Yer gonna learn not to start somethin’ ya can’t finish.”
431 notes · View notes
carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 4 years ago
Note
Just found out that my best friend is pregnant (FIRST IN OUR GROUP I'M SO EXCITED) and I'm wondering, is there any baby/pregnancy stuff that people don't think to gift but would be really nice to have? Very happy for you :3
not sure on baby stuff since i’m still occupied so i havent yet had the chance to regret not having something.
as for preggy stuff, here’s a mix of both inexpensive and quite expensive gift options!
pregnancy pillow! if bff isn’t too far along then the back pains might not have settled in just yet, and they can get BAD like i sometimes have trouble walking from bed to bathroom without shouting bad. that decreased significantly with a C-shaped pillow! now instead of literally every night it’s only once a week or so!
bamboobie pillows! they’re little microwavable/freezable pellet-filled pillows that you slip into your bra for soothing sore tiddies. and they WILL be sore. perfect for pregnancy, excellent for postpartum, still useful during periods! mine were 10 bucks uwu
a seat cushion! i sit in a computer chair nearly all day and it was already losing the cushion after over a year of heavy use, so i’ve been using a throw pillow to sit on because my tailbone has been taking a BEATING. additionally, i don’t have hemorrhoids yet but i probably will eventually, so a really good cushion will be essential. that’s more late-game content tho.
doppler! you get to see the ‘heartbeat’ (still just a single artery and not yet an actual heart) during the 8-week internal ultrasound. if you’re really lucky, you might get an earlier one, but normally heartbeat is first heard at 6-8 weeks. dopplers are external though, and doctors don’t typically use them until 12 weeks because it’s difficult to get audio externally until that point. if you buy your friend a doppler, it won’t be able to be used until probably the second trimester, ideally after 16 weeks. for this gift, i highly recommend getting one that doesnt require apps or programs, and you should include a tube of echo gel, aloe gel, or aquaphor, whichever clear moisturizing gel you think bff might prefer, because any doppler needs gel to function and its best to get smth you can just massage into the belly after imo. this is the one i have, it’s on loan from a friend so i hafta give it back but i like it since its the plug-n-play type lol. but remember, dopplers shouldnt be used often, once every few days is fine enough.
a grabber! this is the kind i have, i kept it from when i was bedridden from my knee injury a few years back. i normally can’t reach into my top load washing machine, but with a belly bump, now i definitely can’t. it’s getting harder to bend over or reach into tight spaces, so having a grabber is really handy, especially with a magnetic tip! i like this specific kind because i hang it on a screw by the little string pulley bit at the end. that way it doesnt fall over or get misplaced.
grippy socks! self-explanatory. a firm foundation protects bebbie. and everyone likes cute socks!
foot bath! maybe a late-game present, but keep it in mind for a few months down the line. anything to soothe the feet would be a GODSEND right now. i already have problems staying on my feet for too long, but the heavier i get the harder it becomes! i’d kill for 30 mins in one of those fish tanks where the tiny little fish eat all my dead skin. even a small massager would be nice lol. i don’t want my husband touching my feets right now bc theyre sooooo calloused and flakey ;w;
melatonin gummies and a sleep mask! it gets so hard to fall asleep for some reason. ppl will be like “sleep while u can teehee!” like they forgot about the fucking insomnia. it’s enough to make you feel homicidal. those delicious ass strawberry gummies knock me out soooo fast now, and a nicely weighted sleep mask keeps it hella dark even when my man forgets to turn off the goddamned lamp.
white noise machine! if bff doesn’t already have one, that is. i invested in a $100 one (it was slightly on sale, so i got it for 70ish) that has tons of options, i prefer brown noise the most, white and pink noise r too sharp for me. it’s even got an alarm function! i adore it and it helps us sleep because i get distracted by every bump in the night, especially with cats. and if bff doesnt like it, baby absolutely will! white noise is most of what they hear in the womb from bodily ambiance so they’re already used to it.
thats all i can think of right now, i probably included things that lots of people think of already, but i just included stuff i don’t think about until i need it lol
172 notes · View notes
milkacchan · 4 years ago
Text
Request for anon: Hi! Could you write hcs for poly bakusquad with a quirkless reader who has a serious independent streak but has recently been a target for villain attacks and got injured, but refuses to rely on anyone and tries to ignore their pain and take care of everyone else, please?
This is gonna be a little angsty
• First- it annoyed bakugou that you, someone /quirkless/ made it into the hero class
• On pure fucking spite and anger alone
• You didn't even particularly want to get in to UA
• It was just something you chose to prove someone wrong about
• and it fucking aggravated him- more than aggravated him
• Inspired Deku though, he hated that even more
• and he isn't surebhow- but he ended up talking to you and suddenly you're part of his friend group and he's /okay/ with that
• that irks him too.
• and a lot of things are uncovered when y'all are friendly w eachother
• and they learn pretty fucking fast about your independent streak
• and when you all started dating (crazy how they managed that) they thought it might go away- only it didn't.
• You never asked for help, regardless of what it was- you'd handle it on your own.
• You got hurt during training? Don't worry about it, I'm fine.
• Failed a test? You'd disappear for a few days to study and retake it.
• Didn't know what you were doing in a particular subject? You'd teach it to yourself.
• Aizawa had heard the words 'help' ONCE and he was limited to the help you'd allow him to give you .
• You trained your ass off everyday, you worked hard in school, you took no shit- it was obvious you felt like you had something to prove.
• Bakugou felt like he was a partial reason for that and it made him feel like shit.
• He wasn't exactly the kindest to you when classes started in first year.
• But he was concerned.
• They were all concerned.
• recently, you'd been stressed out. They could tell, even if you weren't giving them signs.
• On top of that, you'd become a big target for villains and no one knew why.
• it seemed like both you and midoryia were a magnet for assholes in masks
• And they tried talking to you about it, they do.
• Denki brings it up, he's holding your hand, Kirishima is threading his fingers through your hair and Seros behind you, holding your waist. Mina is in between your legs, resting her head on your chest and bakugou is at the end of the bed.
• And Denki asks if you need help- whether its coping with it- or dealing with it while its happening- or trying to figure out /why/ they're attacking you
• and you blow him off "it doesn't matter, i'll deal with it if it happens again."
"It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when." Bakugou glares.
"Okay, then when it happens again, I'll deal with it."
"That's fucking stupid," he growls.
Kami squeezes your hand gently. "Maybe we should have a plan-" he glares at Bakugou.
"I was fine last time. Don't do this."
"Do what? Offer fucking help?" Bakugou snaps and Mina cringes. She grips your shirt. She knows what's going to happen, she knows you're going to stomp off to think- it could be a few hours or it could be days. Sometimes, if she held something on you, you'd stay. She hoped this was the case.
"Your fucking pity." You seeth. "I don't need it. I can take care of myself."
"Baby we didn't-" kiri starts but you're already sliding off the bed.
"Babe," Sero looks at you. "please come talk about it,"
You say nothing, and let the door close behind you.
"Fuck." Mina sighs
• Its 2 days.
• 2 days before you resurface, calm and collected, like nothing happened.
• but you're busy- you're training harder. Much harder, you're pushing yourself past your limits and its obvious
• they were already impressed. Theg already knew you could take care of yourself. Why couldn't you see that?
• you push and push and push
• and they don't see as much of you
• when they do see you at the end of the night, you always look exhausted
• and you put on the same fucking front each time
• you smile and laugh and kiss them goodnight but they can see you're in pain
• they don't even get a chance to talk about it with you
• because the next thing they know
• theyre in another attack and youre in the center of it
• You're fighting and you're holding him off but you aren't going to last much longer
• You were tired from the day before- you hadn't gotten proper sleep- and he was strong
• It's all kind of a blur, really, you're thrown a lot, youre bleeding
• he had you by the neck at the end, you were clawing at his hands and he was laughing
• your mates weren't exactly in the best shape either- after all, the attack had happened in the middle of the night
• A strong kick to the center of his nose seemed to do the trick. There was a sickening crack and his hand loosened and he fell back.
• When you regained youre senses you froze- he wasn't breathing.
• you /killed/ him.
• Your stomach churned and suddenly all the pain you felt increased ten fold.
• You scrambled to stand up, Mina was the first one you saw and you fell to your knees in front of her, cupping her cheeks. "Baby? Baby you okay?"
"M fine, but you're not, that's a lot of blood." She looked up at you her eyes wide. "Baby that's a lot-"
"I'm okay, I promise."
• She wanted to yell and scream and you, she wanted to hit you and telling to just accept help but you'd already stood up, moving to look around for the others.
• Denki was next, you met him with a hug and a short but desperate kiss. "You okay?" You whisper, brushing your thumb over his bruised cheek. Mina was behind you now, gently brushing her fingers through the blondes hair, but she stepped away when she saw Kiri and Bakugou.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," he smiked softly.
"Eiji? Katsu?" You mumbled.
"They're okay, they're fine. You don't look so good though."
"M- M okay.." you mutter. Youre tired now. Standing here is nice. You're dizzy- Ashido was right. That was a lot of blood.
Your eyes close and your weight falls.
"Hey- Hey- Jesus! Guys! Katsuki! I don't- I can't tell if she's breathing-"
• You wake up in the hospital 2 days later.
• Mina's in the bed with you, hand thrown gently over your thighs. Sero and Denki are on the left side, heads down, eye's closed and arms over your shin.
• Kiris got your left hand in his, another hand in Minas hip.
• Bakugous on the right side, arms crossed and head down.
• and youre confused because why the fuck are you here?
• what happened?
• you miss Katsukis voice next to you when it all comes back
• and you can't help but scramble to sit up and suddenly you can't breathe
• youre not sure how long you zoned out, but when you finally get back, there's two nurses
• ones replacing and IV bag
• and the other is checking your tempature, you think.
• theres another needle stick in your arm but you can't pay mind to it right now.
• the warmth around you was gone and you desperately wanted it back.
• they weren't in the room anymore
• and when the nurses cleared the room, the tears spilled over.
• your brought your hands to cover your face and your head fell back.
• five minutes? 10 minures? Later there was a gentle tap on your shoulder
• it was ashido
• your arms were around in her seconds
• "You okay?" She whispered as the others took their spots around the bed.
"No," you shook your head. "I killed him- and and I could've gotten you guys hurt because I didn't listen," your breathing had started to get faster again.
"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe," she soothes, thumbs stroking your cheeks.
"I can't- I- fuck /help me/-" you gasp out
• It takes awhile, but they managed to calm you down.
• Ashido just holds you, she lets you cry, and Kiri reminds you that you're okay
• they do most of the comforting usually
• when you're breath has finally started to even out, and you can feel the pain again, you know you'll be asleep soon from the pain meds.
"How bad was it?" You whisper, hands still gripling Minas shirt.
"Bad." Katsuki spoke. "You stopped breathing when we got you here."
Sero rubbed his face. "You needed a blood transfusion. They weren't entirely sure how it was going to end."
"You were...you were just standing in my arms and then you weren't moving. And then you weren't answering-" denki breathed. "There was blood everywhere."
"What about you guys?"
"Can you just stop?" Katsuki groaned. "Can you just let us worry about /you/? Let us help. Don't ask about us. You almost /died/ and your only fucking thought is us. Why?" He was crying, head down, hands gripping his pants.
"He's got a point. It's okay to ask for help," kirishima whispers. "So why don't you?"
• you're quiet for a few moments.
• do you go into detail.
• or do you dodge the question.
• ultimately, the fear of losing them outweighed any shame you would have felt
• "its hard not having a quirk." You mumble, eyes down. "Quirks are practically currency. And power is highly valued. I don't have that. I don't have any of that. I'm in a constant risk of being replaced and if I ask for help, they know I'm weak. I can't ask for help."
• And they all feel their hearts shatter a little bit.
• Bakugou had poked fun at you for quite some time in first year for not having a quirk.
• and Denki wasn't much better- neither was Sero. They'd make jokes about how fast you'd drop out.
• Bakugou would break a little bit, reminding you that you weren't weak. You still being alive was proof of that.
• and slowly
• slowly you get accustomed to ask for help.
• its not necessarily with words- sometimes they ask and you just nod
• or you ask in your own way.
• youre independent streak remains- but its not as bad.
740 notes · View notes
superworldunkown · 4 years ago
Text
“Daddy, did you die?”
AN: While I wait patiently for all of the ‘Bakugou wakes up from a hospital bed and rushes to Deku’s side’ fanfics to be populated and/or reposed  from when we all thought this was a headcanon, plz enjoy my Domestic Daddy Bakugou x Daughter Kiara spin on the matter.
Summary: Being a hero is hard. Being a hero and a dad...why wasn’t this taught at U.A? Bakugou x Kiara 
(Lol sometimes I pretend he waking up in the below image and the first thing he see is me and I’m like “Shush BB, your melanin queen is here.”) 
Tumblr media
Ouch.
Bakugou had awoken in hospitals with no recollection of how he got there before, but this one carried an extra special ouch with it. Villains were getting stronger and stronger it seemed, and now with the widespread availability of quirk enhancing and suppressing drugs on the market, it made the old ‘Win To Save, Save to Win’ mantra quite the challenge. Also, anything with Deku made things 100 times more complicated.
 It was supposed to be a simple rescue mission - they all seem to start out that way, but as always, something catastrophic had to happen and Deku just HAD to jump in and put his life on the line for everyone. And, of course, as his partner, Bakugou just HAD to blast on in after him. Who else was going to keep the damn nerd with the most incredibly powerful and incredibly secret quirk alive?
Speaking of, where was that damn nerd anyways? 
Taking a rather large breath, Bakugou pulled the oxygen mask away from his mouth and pushed his sore body into a resting position. The machines he was connected to hummed in their disapproval, rattling his already irritated brain. But it was no matter to Bakugou, he had things to do, and no machine designated to keep him alive as going to stop him, damnit.
He could see beneath his hospital gown his torso and chest covered in white medical tape - that’s right! The hit to the shoulder he took in battle. Great, another scar to add to his growing collection. His mind was already thinking of how he was going to explain this scar to you when you explicitly expressed that he didn’t come home with another one. You too knew that missions with Deku always tended to go heroic vs under the radar.
 As Bakguou began to move his legs towards the side of the bed his eyes caught a white piece of paper that was folded at the end of the bed slip to his side. The words ‘Read Me Kacchan’ written in an oh so familiar handwriting. 
‘Hey Kacchan, 
As you requested, as of 7:37am this morning, I am alive and checking in on the rest of the rescue team. Incase you are curious, I have all my vitals on the back of this paper. Please stay in bed and rest.  - Deku’
Bakugou let out a huff while he refolded the note and stuck it in his pant pocket. Since his graduation from U.A he had gained rather irritating nicknames among his former classmates turned hero partners. 
“Damn, working with Bakugou can be such a pain sometimes. Sheesh, you can’t even get a papercut under his watch.” Sero would groan.
“Hey, he’s just being a manly captain that’s all.” Kirishima would chime in, “Always looking out for us! And besides, he was a lot worse at U.A.” 
“Yeah,” Mina rolled her eyes, “From Lone Wolf to Mother Hen, quite the upgrade.”
Bastards. All of them.
After a rather nasty battle Bakguou would be the first to roam around the hospital, busting doors down to check in on the status of the team, only to rip them a new one for being reckless and careless. There was an unspoken rule on when teaming up with this hero, don’t even think about dying on his watch. If you do, he’ll murder you. And it goes without saying that no one has broken that rule in his 5 years of professional hero work. Excuse him for keeping everyone fucking safe! 
Pushing the rather annoying memories into the back of his brain, he toyed with the idea of getting up for his usual rounds of ‘Who the hell got hurt?!’ duty. However, the moment he let out a slight exhale of relief his ears were filled with a rather disturbing sound. It was faint, perhaps a few rooms down and barely auditable, but there was no way he could not hear it. 
Why was there a child crying? And why did it sound like Kiara? 
Instantly, his body jerked into action. Was she hurt? Why was she here? Where were you? Don’t tell him that you were in that mess from earlier with the villains. Even worse, did you go into labor already and he wasn’t there?!
 Damnit. 
Damnit. 
Damnit! 
The machines let out a dangerous whine as Bakugou began to pull everything off of him to get to the door. His legs gave out the moment he took two steps. Why the hell was he so weak?! Crawling wasn’t beneath him, if it got him closer to his daughter, so be it. Sweat began to form at the tip of his brow, running down his neck and soaking through is bandages. 
“No it’s okay i’ll go check on-Kacchan?!” Deku paused as he opened the door to Bakugou’s hospital room, only to rush to his side, “Didn’t you get my note?!” 
Bakugou was shaking at this point, grabbing at Deku’s shoulder only to use him as a weight to further push himself closer to the door. He could still hear his daughters cries, “Shut up...you damn nerd. If you’re not going to help-” 
Deku tried his best to reason with him, “You need to stop moving, you were hit with some kind of quirk suppression drug, its like poison and you’re only agitating it.”
“Where is she?” Bakugou managed to get out before his head collapsed on to the cool tile of the hospital floor, “Where’s my kid?” 
He could still hear the mixture of his daughters cries and Deku’s anguish as his vision went completely dark.
***
Ouch. Double Fucking Ouch.
Waking up for a second time in the hospital hurts even worse than the first. Bakugou found himself back in his bed, reconnected to the machines, twice as sore and twice as pissed off. Forget the rules, when he sees Deku again he’s going to -
“Daddy?” 
Bakugou jerked his head to the side to meet a pair of tiny, puffy red eyes. Kiara sat on her mother’s lap, her lip quivering and arms shaking.
Luckily for Bakugou his hospital bed was reclined slightly upright, giving him the perfect positioning to catch his daughter as she leaped into his arms.
“Kiara be careful baby!” You called.
Kiara ignored your chastising and buried herself into her father’s chest, tears flowing freely. Bakugou ignored the pain, wrapping his arms around her to pull her even closer. The relief of her safety was worth all the pain. His arms gripped around her a bit tighter as if Kiara would slip away from him again. Kiara never cried like this before, even during her worst temper tantrums (which she 100% inherited from Bakugou’s side of the family), she never acted like this. 
Bakugou turned his head towards you, his cheek brushing against the top of Kiara’s head as he looked for some clarification to Kiara’s behavior. 
“She’s scared Katsuki.” You answered simply. Seeing your husband’s confusion you elaborated further, “You were unconscious for a whole day before you woke up the first time. We tried visiting you but when she saw you lying there she started crying, and really hasn’t stopped since.”
“But I’m fine.” 
“I know that.” You reassured him, “But, this is the first time she’s seeing you get a little beat up and that’s scary. She’s not a baby anymore Katsuki, she’s understanding how dangerous hero work can be.” 
It dawned on him; the same, gut twisted feeling that brewed in his stomach anytime Deku or a member of his team got hurt was now being manifested in his 3 year old daughter. His eyes moved down to his daughters head, watching her continue to cry into his chest. Damn, he was hopping she inherited his quirk and not his dangerously high levels of panic and anxiety. He then moved his gaze over the the bump in your stomach. Was this going to happen to them too? What the hell should he do!
He felt the gentle nudge on his bruised shoulder, you mouth silently forming the command to say something to soothe small girl crying in his arms.
“Oi,” he tried to make his usually ear piercing, gravely voice as smooth as possible.
Kiara poked her head up, her ruby eyes staring deeply into her fathers, “Daddy, did you die?”
“Huh? Hell no. You think some lame ass villain can kill me?! You think I’m weak?”
You ran your hand across your already tired face, you wouldn’t expect a Bakugou style father/daughter talk to go any different, but seriously?
Kiara shook her head violently, small tears flying from her eyelashes. Katsuki was beaming, despite the pain, “That’s right kid. Being a hero means we have to do scary things sometimes. I know today was scary but I never lose, got that? I’m a Bakugou, and so are you. We always win and we always kick ass.” His large callous hands drew to his daughters face, wiping away any remaining tears.
“And it’s okay to be scared sweetie.” You chimed in while leaning closer to your daughter, “But Daddy and everyone we love is okay today. And we can be happy about that, right?” 
Kiara nodded, sniffling “Mr. Deku is okay too?” 
“Pfft,” Katsuki huffed while shifting Kiara off his lap to lay by his side, “The damn nerd is just peachy.” 
“Daddy, why do...why do you call Mr. Deku a, a damn-?” 
“That’s a fun name Daddy calls Mr. Deku that only Daddy can say and that’s all you need to know about that.” You chimed in quickly, careful not to let Bakguou destroy your precious daughters mind any further. Kiara shrugged her shoulders and curled at her fathers side; the three of them a happy, but rather dysfunctional family.
181 notes · View notes
sentakushimasu · 4 years ago
Text
if i can't taste your lips just let me taste blood
pairing: bakugou katsuki/kirishima eijirou summary: work studies are meant to be educational, not fatal, but bakugou and kirishima are trapped with a growing puddle of blood and no way to get out genre: hurt/comfort, whump word count: 2.6k warnings: blood, hospitals, bakugou trying to articulate emotions title from: we are the dirt - it's never enough AO3
When Kirishima came to it was with a lot of confusion and pain. The first thing he noticed was the searing pain emanating from his abdomen that blurred and subdued his other senses. The second thing he noticed was that it was really dark.
Dark to the point where he wasn’t sure if he was opening his eyes at all, unable to figure out where the hell he was or how he got there.
The pain, however, was very clearly not a fixture of his foggy and disoriented brain. It kept getting worse, the burning sensation reaching all the way down to his feet. In the haze of pain he couldn’t pinpoint any actual injury, only able to tell that there was something really heavy pressing down on his midsection.
The whine he let out was involuntary, but if he was alone he was going to make as many pathetic noises as he wanted.
Only, he wasn’t alone.
“Kirishima? Kirishima, are you awake?”
That was Bakugou’s voice, but Bakugou never called him by his name, and especially not with the worry that currently saturated his tone.
Kirishima grumbled and tried to push the weight off him. It was so heavy, borderline crushing him but he couldn’t get it to move. What he assumed were Bakugou’s hands swatted his away from whatever was pinning him down.
“Fucking hell, would you stop that?”
Kirishima squirmed again, trying desperately to get even a little bit of the weight off him. “There’s something on top of me-”
“Yeah, that’s me. You’re bleeding.”
“Hmm? Sorry,” Kirishima floundered until his fingers connected with Bakugou’s wrist, looping around the limb. “You can stop, I’m alright.”
“What the fuck? No. You’re fucking bleeding everywhere.”
Bakugou’s face came slightly more into focus as Kirishima’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He kept looking between Kirishima’s abdomen and his face. He looked worried, and if Kirishima didn’t value his life he would dare say that Bakugou was scared. He was still in his hero gear, the stupid theatric spikes framing his head, a distinct trail of blood marring his features as it trailed down his face from his hairline.
“Are you hurt?” Kirishima couldn’t help but ask.
“What? No.”
“You’re bleeding,” Kirishima supplied helpfully.
Bakugou narrowed his eyes and turned back to the wound, applying more pressure. “Not as much as you.”
Swallowing the whine in the back of his throat, Kirishima decided to actually start a conversation with his friend. He had no idea how long they would be there and he wasn’t into spending that uncertain length of time in tense silence with Bakugou. “What happened?”
“Work study. Big villain attack so Endeavour sent us out as backup. One of ‘em cornered you in here so I came to tell ‘em to fuck off but you were on the ground and when I exploded the asshole, the fucking ceiling caved in.”
“At least I’m not stuck in here by myself, hmm? That would be unfortunate.”
It was supposed to have been a joke, something to lighten the mood between them but Bakugou’s expression remained firm as he offered no reply.
“How bad is it?”
Bakugou paused, the silence hanging heavily between them. “It’s fine, you’re gonna be fine.”
Kirishima just hummed. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Dark spots peppered his vision and he was beginning to realise how tired he felt. He knew Bakugou was fighting a losing battle.
“I’m not fucking lying, okay? You’re going to be fine.”
“It’s okay, Bakugou. Can I just ask you to do something before I die?”
“You’re not going to die, you asshole. Fat Gum is going to come for you, you know he’d never leave you here.”
The exhaustion was creeping in with the tingling sensation in his arms and legs. He was so cold. He had half a mind to ask Bakugou to set off some explosions and hopefully warm the air. But they were trapped with potentially limited oxygen and Bakugou was too smart to ever risk that. “Is he going to be fast enough? You said there was a villain, he’s probably too busy.”
“Shut up!” Bakugou snapped, his expression and tone immediately softening as the harshness registered. “You’re not dying today. Or tomorrow. Or any day that I’m alive to see. I won't let you.”
Kirishima closed his eyes, letting himself imagine what it would be like to die with Bakugou by his side. A cruel part of his chest tightened as he imagined asking Bakugou to hold him before he passed out.
The taste of blissful unconsciousness lay heavy on the back of his tongue as he spoke. “Will you stay? I don’t wanna go alone.”
“You’re not going fucking anywhere, and I’m not gonna leave you.”
“I think I’m dying, Katsu.”
Kirishima could see the way Bakugou flinched at the use of the nickname. He would have apologised for being so informal but he was tired and he didn’t have the energy to be sorry for trying to feel close to Bakugou in his last moments.
Perhaps the reaction had been to the idea of Kirishima dying, but that seemed less likely. Bakugou was persistent in reminding everyone that he didn’t care about anything or anyone other than becoming number one. Kirishima had always admired his determination but right now he just wanted to pretend that Bakugou cared about him.
Falling in love with Bakugou Katsuki was probably the dumbest decision of Kirishima’s life but he would never live to regret it. Not while Bakugou stayed with him, trying to staunch the flow of blood from a wound that was likely severe enough to render Bakugou’s efforts useless.
The older boy didn’t look at him. “You’re just delirious from the blood loss, you’ll be okay.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because you’re fucking bleeding out!”
“Yeah,” Kirishima mumbled with the limited energy he had left, “but why is it suddenly a big deal? You've said repeatedly that you don’t care about anyone else.”
“I lied,” Bakugou hissed through his teeth, his jaw clenched with such force that Kirishima was worried the bone would shatter under the pressure.
Kirishima’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. Well that made no sense.“Why would you lie?”
“Because I love you, goddamnit! So you’re going to stay awake and we’re going to get out of this and go on a date or some shit, but we can only do that if you stay awake, okay?”
Oh. Kirishima tried to speak, but his tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth that he couldn’t lift no matter how hard he tried. The fog was pressing in on him much harder now.
Bakugou’s voice was muffled by the fog as he spoke again. “Fucking say something. I just confessed my feelings for you, you don’t get to fucking ignore me now.”
Kirishima was aware that he should be worried by the way it was taking more and more of his energy to keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t find the strength to care about anything other than the fact that Bakugou just said he loves him.
“Kirishima?”
“No- No, fuck, no, Kirishima you have to keep your eyes open!” Kirishima hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut, but he couldn’t seem to open them again, despite how much he wanted to stare into Bakugou’s red eyes forever.
Kirishima could feel something tapping on his cheek, shaking his shoulder. Bakugou’s voice was so broken and raw when he spoke his plea. “Kiri, please.”
That’s weird, Bakugou never says please.
As the last shreds of consciousness left him, Kirishima swore he could hear muffled yelling somewhere close to his head, he couldn’t make out the words.
But it didn’t hurt anymore.
-
Kirishima didn’t expect to wake up.
It was as simple as that.
He had been bleeding badly enough that Bakugou hadn’t even let him look, and had seemed genuinely worried and afraid for his friend’s wellbeing. So at that point, waking up was a feat on its own.
Waking up without being in excruciating pain was something else entirely. He just felt floaty and not real. But he definitely wasn’t dead because he was uncomfortable and the lights behind his close eyelids were way too bright.
“I would try to send you back to the dorms but I know you won’t listen to me even if I erase your quirk and drag you kicking and screaming out of here,” Aizawa’s gruff voice said from a place Kirishima couldn’t pinpoint. There was a lot of aural input that just dissolved into directionless static.
“I’m not leaving him.”
That was Bakugou’s voice, with its hard edge and underlying fire. It cut through the haze of Kirishima’s lingering unconsciousness, it didn’t have the same fuzzy edge to the syllables that Aizawa’s voice had.
Aizawa must have clicked his tongue before speaking again in his monotonous drawl. “You need to rest too. That concussion isn’t going to go away on its own.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Bakugou bit back.
“Then, pray tell, what matters more than your health?”
“He does.”
He wanted to fight against the stupor, to reach out and smack Bakugou upside the head. His friend was concussed, and chose not to rest, in favour of keeping a bedside vigil. At this point, it was the only thing that was convincing Kirishima that he didn’t hallucinate what Bakugou said before he passed out.
Not that it made much sense.
“Kirishima would want you to take care of yourself.” Kirishima is going to shake Aizawa’s hand the second he can muster up the energy to do so.
“Kirishima also wanted to die of blood loss and traumatise me instead of just staying awake, so I’m not going to listen to what that asshole wants.”
“You know as well as I do that the doctor said he probably won’t be coherent until tomorrow morning even if he does wake up tonight. I can drive you back to the dorm and pick you up before visiting hours.”
Kirishima could practically hear Bakugou shaking his head. “I’m not leaving him alone.”
“He won’t be alone. Fat Gum and I will be here all night.”
Bakugou’s next words were haunted, hollowed out to fit an emotion Kirishima had never heard from the older boy. “He asked me to stay with him.”
“And you did, you saved his life,” a third voice added. Kirishima was cognizant enough to be able to recognise it as being his mentor.
“Go to bed, Bakugou,” Kirishima mumbled, scrunching his eyes up tightly as consciousness fully came back to him. He wished someone would turn the light off.
“Kirishima?” There was too much noise in that moment for Kirishima to figure out who had spoken, but he suspected that all of them had something to say about his return to wakefulness.
He tried to lift his hand, hoping to cover his eyes from the bright lights of what was undoubtedly a hospital room, only to find it pinned in place.
Opening his eyes to the onslaught of light revealed that his hand was being firmly held in Bakugou’s. Okay, forget his previous claims, he was definitely dead. Or, at the very least, having the best dream of his life.
Kirishima groaned. “You guys are loud.”
“Sorry, kid,” Aizawa said in his usual grumble. His chair was the furthest away from Kirishima, sitting all the way in the corner of the room. He looked the same amount of disheveled as he usually did but his posture held a weird tension that Kirishima wasn���t sure he had ever seen before.
“How are you feeling?” Fat Gum asked, he was out of his hero suit which, to Kirishima, looked very odd.
“Pretty okay, all things considered,” Kirishima said, directing his gaze towards his friend.
Bakugou was the most noticeably different. His hair was scruffy and matted with blood, a stark white rectangle of gauze taped to his forehead, a few little strips holding a cut on his eyebrow together. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t let go of Kirishima’s hand either.
Feeling particularly spontaneous, probably due to the bucket full of pain meds that were undoubtedly currently in his system, Kirishima gave Bakugou’s hand an experimental squeeze.
Bakugou stiffened but the tension quickly left his body as he squeezed back, turning to meet Kirishima’s eyes and give him a soft smile.
Their exchange was silent but they said all they needed to.
I heard you.
I love you too.
Kirishima tried to adjust himself, to get a better look at Bakugou’s injuries. Only to promptly collapse back onto the hospital bed as pain blasted through all of his senses.
“Idiot,” Bakugou hissed.
“Take it easy,” Fat Gum said, “you were in surgery for a long time, you don’t need to be pushing yourself.”
Still trying to breathe through the pain, Kirishima opened one eye to look at the pro hero.
“Surgery?” he managed to grit out from between his clenched teeth.
Fat Gum’s eyes softened as he looked at his mentee. “We found you both not long after you lost consciousness, but you were in rough shape. You’re going to need to take it easy for a while.”
Kirishima groaned. “That sounds boring.”
“Not as boring as an extended recovery period because you refused to take care of yourself,” Aizawa chided.
“True,” Kirishima said. “What time is it?”
Fat Gum was the one to speak this time. Bakugou stayed remarkably silent. “A little past midnight, you spent six hours in surgery and we’ve been waiting for you to wake up for about two hours now.”
“And Bakugou isn’t in bed?”
“Nope. We tried but he won’t budge. Better to let it happen at this point.”
Kirishima rolled his head to the other side, narrowing his eyes at Bakugou and the older boy’s stony expression. “Go to sleep.”
Bakugou met his gaze with his usual stubborn fire. “You first.”
“If you stay, will you sleep?”
Bakugou nodded.
“Aizawa-sensei, can he stay?”
Kirishima had expected Aizawa to argue, but he was just met with a soft “okay”.
Whether it was the cocktail of medication or the trauma his body had suffered, tiredness hit Kirishima like a wave. As his blinking slowed down, he swore he saw a soft smile grace Bakugou’s lips before his other hand reached up to brush Kirishima’s hair out of his face.
“Goodnight, Kirishima.”
Kirishima just hummed, too tired to speak.
-
Kirishima woke up the next morning with Bakugou wrapped around his arm that was free of tubes and wires, snoring softly.
Carefully picking up his other hand and ignoring the presence of the IV in the crook of his elbow, he began to thread his fingers through Bakugou’s messy hair. The older boy didn’t stir, a true testament to how exhausted he really was, especially considering on any other day Kirishima could breathe sideways and Bakugou would all but leap to his feet.
Instead, Bakugou’s hold just tightened slightly as he mumbled something in his sleep.
A quick glance around the room told Kirishima that Aizawa was asleep in his chair in the corner, his face buried in his capture scarf, surprisingly sans his usual yellow sleeping bag. Fat Gum was nowhere to be seen but judging by the empty chair with a blanket on the seat and jacket draped over the back, he couldn’t be far away.
There was a weird bliss to the quiet atmosphere of the hospital room. The soft morning light filtered in through the window as opposed to the harsh lights of the night before.
The pain meds took away from the discomfort of being in a hospital, and with Bakugou clinging to him like he was the most important thing in the world was something Kirishima could easily be convinced was a dream, a fantasy conjured by his unconscious mind.
He could get used to this.
38 notes · View notes
foulcrownkryptonite · 3 years ago
Text
The Man He Loved
Erwin x Levi 
Levi disagrees with Erwin’s plan and confronts him after a meeting with the Scouts.
3.4K words
Content Warnings: swearing, bursts of anger, general meanness before the cavity inducing fluff comes into play :)
Levi sat quietly, arms crossed and eyes scanning each of the Scouts as Erwin laid out this coming mission's details. It was late and everyone was past the brink of exhaustion, but this meeting was unfortunately urgent. Eren and Historia… Those damned Internal Police lackies will stop at nothing to get their filthy hands on the two kids. And with the influence they have, their chance at success is more than possible. There was no time to waste. What they needed was a plan of action, an infallible one, at that.
“We still have many uncertainties about the titans and what the Beast titan’s plans are…” Erwin continued. “But keeping Eren and Historia safe is of the utmost priority. Humanity will fall if the Internal Police get their hands on them. In two days' time, we’ll need to devise a distraction.” Distraction? Levi swiftly side eyed Erwin as he continued his disquisition, his prominent features set in dedication. Why doesn't he tell me these things beforehand...
“Jean, you’ll pretend to be Eren and-“ Erwin was cut off by Jean’s groans.
“Huh? I look nothing like that brat. Clearly I’m far more handsome. They’ll think he suddenly became a model and Eren does not deserve that reputation.” Jean quickly retorted. Despite being crudely cut off, Erwin’s eyes remained weighted and unmoving. The stretch of silence that followed elicited an ugly snort from Conny, earning a poorly contained laugh from Sasha and a silencing glare from Mikasa. Once the punishing eyes moved to Jean, he quickly shut his trap and slunk in his chair, a curse being muttered under his breath. Are these damn brats capable of a single serious meeting? Levi scoffed to himself as Erwin resumed.
“As I was saying,” Jean somehow receded further into himself. “Armin will play Historia.”. Armin nodded, knowing there’s no saying no to the commander in this state. “I’ll lead the distraction as I’m perfectly fine with playing bait. They want me too, but that’s not important.” he went on. At this, Levi's jaw tightened. Not important?! They’ll kill you. What is he-
“Don’t worry, as this will not be for another week. The news of us hiding out won’t get to them for a short while.” Erwin concluded, standing up in his chair. Before he could finish his brief remarks, the scouts eagerly stood to attention. “Very well, that is all for tonight. Get some rest, Scouts. You’ve done good work. If there are any questions, feel free to ask. But for now, seek your sleep.” And with those words of finality, he receded back into his seat, the phantom pains in his arm ebbing and flowing as they usually did. Erwin never talked about it, but Levi could tell when it was bothering the commander. His eyebrows would furrow slightly, followed by a look of realization then poignancy. Whether he really wanted to or not, Levi always noticed these little changes in the man.
Hange let out a big yawn, waiting as everyone else quietly left the room. That is to say, everyone besides Conny, Sasha and Jean, those loud fucks. Levi instantly began mentally reciting what Erwin had previously said. Distraction my ass… Hange kicked up their feet onto the coffee table, expecting the usual post-meeting chat between the three of them. “Eyy I’m pooped, how about a-“
“Hange.” Levi said plainly.
“Eh?”
“Not today.”
“Alright… then why don’t we-“
“Not. Today.” Levi snapped, uncrossing his legs to stand. “Leave.”
Hange rolled their eyes, used to and unthreatened by Levi’s usual ire. “Whatever, I’ll just go party somewhere else then.” They stood too, walking toward the door. “You two buzzkills have a goodnight~!” They sang sweetly before sauntering out in an exaggerated confidence. Levi sighed before going to the door and locking it. Erwin just watched, unamused and unsurprised by his behavior. Levi leaned against the locked door and put his hands on his hips.
“So, a suicide mission? That’s your master plan?” he said coldly, grey eyes meeting blue in an unfriendly gaze. Erwin kept his lips sealed with silence, knowing full well the man across him had a lot more to say. “Tch, silent treatment too? Why don’t you tell me these things? Did you hit your head on the field before losing your arm?” He taunted, attempting to coax the tall man into talking.
Erwin’s eyes darkened just slightly. He really wasn’t in the mood to bicker with Levi. His plan was practically foolproof, Levi just wasn’t thinking rationally. His arm hurt and he longed for a good night's rest, not wanting to be barked at by the man standing across from him. Truthfully, he was tuning most of what he said out. Just let him ramble until he’s satisfied.
Levi stomped his boot on the door, causing it to judder in return. “You’re not even LISTENING. Oi, shit-for-brains, talk to me like a man and stop wallowing in your suicidal self pity. What the fuck are you thinking?”
Erwin took a steady breath, composing himself before finally speaking. “Is this really about the mission, Levi?” He was met with cold icy eyes set in a dead glare. This really isn’t what he wanted to do right now. “Y'know what, nevermind. I don’t wanna hear it tonight.” he dismissed.
Levi was beyond irked. “Eh- what are you even saying? Damn, that titan really did scramble your head. Do I need to spell it out for ya? Write on little cards so you can relearn your ABC’s? Eh?! You’ve gone mad. This is stupid-“
Erwin lifted his hand up to silence him. “You don’t have to agree. By all means, yell at me. But this doesn’t change my plan.” He lowered his hand and looked him in the eyes, his mind tired and begging for rest.
Levi could feel his face darkening into a prominent scowl. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this… Your self righteous fantasies of being the humble hero are clouding your judgement. Pride? Heroism? That’s just some bullshit excuse, Erwin. You aren’t expendable. Killing yourself now isn’t going to help anyone. It’s not going to fix anything.” He spat, poison dripping from each word as his gaze remained locked on target. Erwin eyed him in return, eyes growing darker with each passing second. A tense silence stretched between them.
Levi sighed before starting again.
“We need that damn head of yours if we want to have any chance of a future, so quit being a baby and let’s figure out some other plan.” He reasoned, hoping these words would make his commander understand where this bout of anger came from.
Erwin sat silent for a moment, contemplating his words and filtering them with his usual routine of rationality and logic. What was Levi’s goal here? It is putting his own life in danger, not Levi’s. Unless the issue was that fact itself...
“Levi…” He began calmly, his assuring tone of voice encouraging Levi to calm himself. “I recognize how you feel, but you must see the bigger picture. You need to understand, I am replaceable, Eren and Historia are not.“
Levi instinctively tensed again, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, and knowing full well he wouldn’t like whatever Erwin would say next. “This mission is above me - above us. It’s our best option. We don’t have the luxury to achieve results without sacrifice, or at least without the risk thereof. I have abandoned many soldiers in the past, and to cower when that chance weighs on myself is unbecoming of a commander. I did not call a meeting tonight to discuss, but rather to inform. This is the plan, Levi. And frankly? I do not wish to speak about it further. That is all.” Erwin languidly finished, his usual punctuality succumbing to a tired dejection.
Levi realized then. He wasn’t speaking to Erwin, the man whom he trusted and dedicated his life to. Levi wasn’t speaking to the one who dragged him out of that shitty dump of a home and into the Survey Corps; He wasn’t here with the man who made badly timed jokes Levi could only roll his eyes at, nor the captain who suddenly took an interest in cleanliness upon Levi’s arrival, nor the friend who kindly lent Levi a shoulder and a warm cup of tea following his squad's extinction. This was not that man. Levi was stood in front of the Commander of the Survey Corps. An artificial hero who’d rid himself of his humanities in the name of freedom, eager to sacrifice what he must for the prosperity of the future. Erwin looked at Levi from behind that old table as if it were a wall of its own, made not for keeping titans out, but for imprisoning the man Levi knew him to be within.
A heroic façade. A selfless demeanor. That is what Erwin has chosen to be.
Bullshit. Absolute fucking BULLSHIT. There are at least a thousand ways out of this mess, why the hell is he so set on risking himself? An unbridled rage swiftly lifted Levi off the back of the door, boots stomping up towards the tired man in front of him. Levi seethed. He won't let Erwin succumb to whatever dumbass funk he seems to be in. He crossed his arms and scowled, voice biting and unsympathetic. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to give up under the ruse of heroism cause you don't feel well? Because you lost your fucking arm to some ugly ass titan?”
Erwin glare was maddening, something that would make any other soul cower in fear, yet it only fueled his own vehemence. He’s not going to let Erwin walk away from this. “Tch. And to think I’d thought so highly of you... Go on then. If this is really what you want, go and die a coward's meaningless death.” The air hung heavy as they stared each other down. Silence, tense uncomfortable silence and shit ok maybe Levi had gone a bit too fa-
BANG. His hand hit the desk hard, the sound of Erwin's arm slamming the old wood echoing harshly off the cold stone walls. He was standing now, chair forgotten and fallen behind him. The look on his face made Levi’s heart catch in his throat, a dry lump forming as Erwin's eyes bore menacingly into him. His small figure felt diminutive as Erwin’s chest heaved with ferocity, before finally cracking with pure fury. “You dare tell me what I can or cannot do with my own life? Who the fuck do you think you are? I am your superior officer before I am your friend and I will not take this shit from you!”
Levi went cold, backing once more into the door as far as he could, gripping the handle for support, or perhaps a possible escape. He’s never seen Erwin snap like this and to see this eruption in him… It petrified him. “Well, now who’s the coward?” He said maddeningly, kicking the discarded chair further into the corner which sent Levi’s fight or flight into overdrive. Erwin towered over him, his hand slamming against the door a good two feet above Levi’s head. When did he get so damn close?
Levi opened his mouth, but could produce no sound. He was scared. This wasn’t Erwin. A primal rage had overtaken him and Levi could see it in the way his eyes oozed with hostility, in the way his astute demeanor had morphed into that of a feral beast’s. Taking a chance, Levi took a breath. “Erwin…” he whispered carefully, like a cornered animal trying to negotiate with its prey. Erwin’s eyes flashed with an indescribable something. He dropped his hand.
“Fuck,” he cursed, putting his hand to his head and wobbling backward before facing Levi again.
“Fuck, Levi, I’m…” he began. Once again, Levi was experiencing a new side of Erwin, a common theme tonight.  “You…” He paused, collecting his words and continuing. “You need to understand exactly what it is I’m trying to say. It’s my life and you said it yourself earlier, I’m as good as dead. This arm…  How exactly am I supposed to fight like this?” It was barely audible, but Levi picked up a slight crack to his voice. Infuriated Erwin was shocking to see, but this completely foreign vulnerability was something else. The two had been rather close, but nothing quite like this. It was jarring, but not at all bad.
Before Levi could say anything in return, Erwin continued, voice almost hushed and pleading. “Eren is the key to saving humanity and you damn right know it. If I can just lead the charge-“ he was cut off by Levi swiftly grabbing hold of his hand. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, some innermost part of him doing the decision making here. The action terrified the both of them, but it was a sign of comfort and that’s all Erwin needed. Besides, it stopped him from spouting more nonsense… So that's good, right?
Noticing the slightest squeeze of his hand in return, Levi found the words he wanted to say. Needed to say. “You know I didn’t mean that. I won’t let you die out there, Erwin. We need you…” his voice grew soft before he carried on. “I need you… So I won’t let you just throw yourself away, dumbass.” Ok now he really didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. The air was stiff as Erwin only stared down at him, and Levi directed his eyes back to the discarded chair. Anything really to distract himself from Erwin’s wide eyed stare. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t Erwin saying anything? He had made it worse. Fuck.
“I- um I’m I’ll just, I’ll just-“ Levi stammered, earnestly fumbling with the doorknob to leave. Bad choice. Bad night. Time to go. Erwin promptly grabbed Levi’s arm and pulled him closer, until he was flush with the broad surface of his chest. Levi’s face burned due to the proximity, and as Erwin snaked his arm around his middle, his dreaded blush only deepened. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands, he mirrored Erwin’s own actions, enclosing the embrace and- Oh. This is nice. Feeling Levi’s arms wrap around him, Erwin took the initiative to bend down, lowering his head to rest atop Levi’s shoulder.
“I need you too... More than anything” he breathed softly into Levi’s jacket.
Levi had never been one for flattery or sugared words. Lies only beget other lies and Levi valued honesty and definiteness. But this… This was something entirely different. Erwin’s voice was barely above a whisper, purely unguarded and emotive. This wasn’t some false declaration to earn his sympathy, but rather raw feeling, something Levi is not used to having directed at himself.
The tears came before rational thought could beat them, and Erwin deepened the hug in response. The two didn’t say a word as they stood and kept their embrace, never wanting to let go. It was then that he realized Erwin was shaking slightly, tears falling from the man in his arms as well. Levi gripped tighter onto him, his cloak bunching up into his fingers as he held on perhaps harder than need be. Levi wouldn’t normally indulge himself in such juvenile behavior, but he supposed, at least for tonight, he didn’t want to hold himself back.
Erwin’s calloused hand slowly crept its way to Levi’s neck, causing him to shiver. Unsure if this reaction was a positive one, the taller man froze. Levi understood this fearful body language and strengthened the hug, signaling it was ok. Taking this in, Erwin began to rub gentle circles on the back of Levi’s neck, causing him to stir and the fine hairs on his neck to stand. They’ve never touched, not like this. Neither dared to speak, each fearing it would end this blissful spell.
Returning the intimate gesture, Levi began to softly move the palm of his hand along Erwin’s back. Levi wasn’t a touchy-feely person - or, so he thought because being touched like this… He could truly die right here. And that would be ok.
Erwin rotated his head so he was facing the crook of Levi’s neck, and Levi shuddered as he felt Erwin’s hot, shaky breath. This in turn made Erwin nervous. What are we doing? I shouldn’t be-
Levi snaked a hand up to the base of Erwin’s neck and began to tenderly run his fingers through his hair. Erwin took this as complete reassurance that yeah, this was ok. And Levi was ok with it too. Nerves were high as Levi gripped the man’s shirt, wanting to cling to him in silence forever.
Craving his touch, Levi bent his head to face Erwin’s. Erwin noticed the sudden change in movement and opened his eyes to see Levi staring right back at him. He pulled his head back ever so slightly, ensuring he was properly facing Levi. He searched his steel eyes and found only warmth. Still, not a word was said as they got even closer, noses just barely grazing each other before finally-
Unexpectedly, a jarring thud came from outside the door. This was promptly followed by a distant “I’m ok!”. Being so caught up in the moment, Erwin jumped, his heart racing and a mess as he lifted away from Levi. He muttered a curse word before being forced to talk about what just happened between the two men.
Levi just stood there, the sudden lack of intimacy making him realize exactly what had just happened. Feeling damn near faint, he sat on the couch closest to the warm fire and Erwin followed suit, placing his hand on the cushiony surface as he glanced at the visibly nervous Levi.
Erwin reached over and grabbed Levi’s hand causing Levi to meet his gaze. “Is this ok?” He asked gingerly. Levi’s expression softened as he put his other hand on top of his. “Yeah, this is ok”. They sat like that for a moment, deep breaths filling the silence.
“At least let me come with you,” Levi said hurriedly, and Erwin’s eyes grew wide. “Levi…” He began, moving his hand to cup his cheek. Levi leaned into his touch, body settling as he listened to Erwin. “Levi, when have I ever excluded you from a mission? We're doing this together…” he pulled Levi’s face closer to his as Levi put a hand to the man’s chest.
“Together.” Levi repeated before Erwin sealed the space between them with a feather-light kiss, still not wanting to scare the shorter man away. But Levi’s return to the kiss was immediate and desperate, once again wanting to be close to the man he’d admired for years. The man he… Fuck it, the man he loved. Being held like this, being needed like this, needing him in return, it all felt so familiar despite how foreign it really was.
It was like home. Not the putrid and disgustingly cluttered underground, but rather the sentiment of it all. Being in Erwin's embrace, he thought of Farlan and Isabel, his dedication and her compassion. He thought of the ever rowdy scouts, of Hange, of the feeling of Erwin’s lips against his: that was a big one.
Levi wasn’t sure where this mission would take them, or where any of their upcoming escapades would lead them. But he was sure of one thing, as long as he was at this man’s side, his warm eyes meeting his own, he could bear it. No... They could bear it. Erwin pulled away from his lips for what felt like the tenth time this night. Grey eyes met blue, and for the first time in what had felt like years, Levi felt himself fully smiling back.
That night, perched in that dimly lit safe house on a tawny old couch, was theirs and theirs alone, forever to be looked back upon fondly. They were safe. And most importantly, they were each other’s.
“SASHA HOLY SHIT ARE YOU SEEING THIS!”
“CONNY SHUT UP!”
“MMPH!”
And most importantly, Levi had a couple of brats to silence.
23 notes · View notes
xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years ago
Text
🔥Wings of Freedom (Part 1)🔥
Tumblr media
A/N: FINALLY DONE WITH FINALS!!! Thank you everyone for being so patient and supportive while I’ve fought through the last few days of school, I really appreciate it. But I’m finally back now and with some new fics for you guys! Hope you enjoy, and stay safe out there! ❤️
Part 2 is here!
🐉 Song Recommendation: “Dear Fellow Traveller” By: Sea Wolf 🐉
~~~
Levi looked up from where he was sitting on the sofa in his lover’s office, reading a book, at the sound of (Y/N)’s pained groan. He found her trying to suppress a wince as pain shot up her spine, one of her hands reaching back to rub between her shoulder blades while she tried to focus on her work. Levi sighed. He knew she had injured herself somehow, either through training or on the last expedition, but she refused to tell him how or where she had gotten hurt. On top of that, she also refused to let him help her fix it, always batting his hands away and claiming she was fine. He knew she had a high pain tolerance, always had, but now he was getting annoyed with her. She just needed to shove down her pride and let him help her. She was human after all, she clearly wasn’t immune to pain.
Despite her obvious discomfort, (Y/N) continued to work diligently. It was rare that she was working later than him, but lately more work had been dumped on her desk per her request, her way of trying to help her superiors by lessening their load. Levi couldn’t help but feel pride swell in his chest as he watched her write. She was so hardworking, always trying to pitch in where she could. He knew she was tired, but she kept pushing herself to try to take some of the weight off the shoulders of her superiors, claiming they did way more than necessary and it should be no problem for her to help them out a little. She wasn’t even a superior officer, still only a cadet, despite her older age. It was that determination and willingness to take care of others and work hard that drew Levi to her in the first place. It was also what was about to give her a promotion to Squad Leader, one he knew she deserved as he watched her tackle the horde of papers in front of her.
Another wince of pain from her snapped him out of his thoughts and he frowned, the pride in his chest turning into concern. While he valued her work ethic, he sometimes condemned it, knowing she often failed to take care of herself in her efforts to take care of other people. Her hand was rubbing between her shoulder blades harder now, her face contorting into one of frustrated pain.
Making his decision, Levi stood up and slowly crept around behind her. He wished he could just walk up to her, bat her hand away and get to work on making her feel better, but aside from denying help from others, (Y/N) also had a slight fear of intimacy. She had always flinched or moved away when he touched her, and while she assured him it had nothing to do with him, Levi sometimes felt sick at the thought of her being uncomfortable with his touch. He had been warming her up to it, starting out with little things like brushing his fingers along her arm or holding her hand, but he had to take it slow. He had to be patient, otherwise she panicked.
(Y/N) was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice Levi come around until she felt a gentle brush on her arm. She tensed at first, but one look into those gorgeous silver eyes had her relaxing a bit.
“Hey Levi, I’m not keeping you up, am I? I’m almost done if you want to go to bed without me. You don’t have to stay in my office until I’m done, you can go back to your room whenever you want to.”
Levi shook his head. “You know I don’t sleep. And even if I did sleep, I wouldn’t be able to, knowing you were still working. Besides, I know you enjoy my company.”
(Y/N) smiled and chuckled at him. “Oh yes, you are just too irresistible, Levi. I think I would die right now if you left to go to sleep.”
Levi flashed her one of his rare smiles, just a subtle quirk of his lips, but (Y/N) beamed at him, making his heart beat like a drum for her. She had always had that effect on him, her smiles, laugh, and sparkling eyes scrambling his insides and setting his nerves on fire. Gods he loved this woman. It had taken him a long ass time to see it that way, needing both Erwin, Hanji, and a night of free-flowing alcohol to get him to admit it, but he did. 
He was willing to go slow for her, to move at the pace she was comfortable with, but he couldn’t wait until she would let him worship her body in the way he knew she deserved. He couldn’t wait until she would let him cuddle her close, run his fingers through her hair, kiss her until she was out of breath. He could feel his body tingling at the thought and forced himself to behave, reeling in his desire to kiss her senseless as he ran his hands down her back and over her sides.
“Well we can’t have that now can we?” Levi purred. “If you need me so much, I guess I have no choice but to stay here.”
(Y/N) hummed in response and turned back to the paperwork on her desk, not paying attention to Levi as he moved up behind her, his fingers gently trailing over the crest of her shoulder. She tensed again and Levi immediately shoved down the feelings of hurt that surfaced. He had no right to feel upset, she obviously just had a fear of intimacy, and he had to respect that.
“Levi?”
“Mmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Helping. If I’m going to stay here, I might as well be useful.”
Levi paused to make sure she wouldn’t push him away, wanting nothing more than for her to be completely comfortable, before flattening his hand a little, allowing his touch to expand from just the tips of his fingers to the edge of his palm. She was still tense, but she didn’t move to push him away, instead going back to the papers in front of her, albeit working at a much slower pace now.
“Are you okay with this?” Levi asked softly, using his thumb to gently rub her shoulder.
(Y/N)’s heart melted. This man was so perfect. She knew it was hard on him, seeing her flinch away from him when he tried to touch her, knew he struggled with his self esteem, especially when all his life people have been afraid of him, only seeing him as a cold-hearted killing machine. She just couldn’t help it, her background rising up to tear at her confidence. She knew he was nothing like the people she used to live with, but that didn’t change the fact that she felt nervous whenever his skin made contact with hers. She wished so desperately that she could embrace his somewhat limited affection without pause. She wished she could accept his advances and hold him close while he stroked her hair or her back. She wanted all of those things, yearned for them, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet, at least.
“Levi, what’re you doing?” (Y/N) asked again, taking a deep shuddering breath as she shoved the memories of pain and horror to the back of her mind.
She hated it but she couldn’t help the slight sigh of relief she felt when he took in the underlying meaning of her words and lifted his hand off of her. Then she felt horrible. She bowed her head and felt the tears surface. She knew he deserved to know, she wanted to tell him so badly why she was so skittish around him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew it was selfish but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she just knew that when he found out, there would be no stopping him from leaving her immediately. He would never want to be around her ever again if he discovered the real (Y/N). The monster. The freak.
“Hey, I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable, I just noticed that your back was killing you, so I wanted to give you a massage to release the tension. Please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Levi said, his words only wrenching her heart more. He really didn’t deserve this, just as she didn’t deserve him.
“I’m not scared of you, Levi, I promise. I’m crying because I know you’re just trying to be nice and comfort me and make me feel good but I still can’t get over my stupid issues with touch and it’s killing me not to be able to feel you against me without freaking out. You’re always so kind to me, so gentle, so sweet, and I’m never able to reward you for being patient and amazing. I’m so sorry, Levi.”
“Look at me, (Y/N),” Levi said, the command in his voice making her meet his gaze despite the urge to look anywhere but at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know you're trying, and that’s good enough for me. I will go at any pace you are comfortable with, alright? I just wanted to make sure you felt okay. We have that expedition coming up and the last thing I want is for you to get killed out there because your back is fucked up.”
(Y/N) sniffled and nodded at him, a watery smile making its way to her face as she looked at the man she loved more than anything. They had only been together for six months, but she already knew that this man was perfect for her. He had been nothing but the best, patiently waiting for her to get comfortable. Levi nodded once and stared at her for a moment longer, concern swirling in his grey hues, before he stood and went back to reading his book on the couch.
(Y/N) went back to her work, but she made a silent promise to both Levi and herself that she would try harder, for both of them, to get over the horrors of her past. They both deserved it, and she wanted it more than anything. Even if it meant divulging her secret, she would do it for them.
______________________________
(Y/N) could feel Levi’s eyes on her as she winced again, forcing down the urge to rub her back. She had still been in obvious pain when she had woken up that morning, her back hunched over as she tried to arch away from the aching in between her shoulder blades, so much so that Levi had tried to bench her from the mission. (Y/N) had put her foot down on that one, arguing with him all the way out to the stable, until he had finally dropped it as she mounted her horse. 
The pain was a problem, she knew that, but she also knew that this mission was going to require all hands on deck. Apparently, some more advanced abnormals had been spotted outside of the gates, ones that knew how to climb, and so they were tasked with going out to find and kill them if necessary. She knew Hanji wanted to study them, but the safety of the other soldiers would have to come first. It had even been announced that the Garrison would be accompanying them, doubling their numbers to increase their chances of success. It was all bullshit to (Y/N), the Garrison soldiers didn’t know how to really fight, having spent their whole lives pissing themselves behind the walls while the Survey Corps went outside to fight for humanity, but she couldn’t argue with the Prime Commander.
They were lined up in front of the gate, waiting for the signal to move out, and she just knew Levi was watching her like a hawk as another pang of heat stabbing her back had her biting her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. It would’ve killed her to stay behind as her comrades fought and died for their cause without her, but now she wondered if that would’ve been a better plan. Not only was the pain getting nearly intolerable, she just knew that Levi would be watching out for her the entire time, at least, more than usual, and it was not a good idea for Humanity’s Strongest to be distracted on an expedition.
She turned around and found his eyes on her just as she had thought, the silver hues narrowed on her dangerously. She knew that look. It was a look that said ‘if you die, I’ll kill you.’ Sending her own glare back, she mouthed, ‘I’m fine,’ before turning back to face the front. 
She could still feel his eyes on her but as the bell tolled above them, she reset her focus on the formation in front of her, steeling her nerves against the dangers outside the walls. As soon as the gate was fully lifted, the bell tolls clanging to a stop, Erwin let out a bellowing war cry and charged out into the expansive fields beyond the walls, the men and women behind him letting out similar yells as they followed their Commander. (Y/N) did the same, her stunning liver chestnut mare, Zephyr, rearing up at (Y/N)’s yell, and charging forward. The galloping movement immediately sent bolts of white hot pain up her spine but she ignored it, gritting her teeth and kicking her horse into a faster gallop.
Clearing the gate, (Y/N) immediately directed her horse to the right flank, breaking off with the rest of her squad, her Squad Leader, Hanji, leading the charge in front of them with bright eyes searching for the abnormal titans. (Y/N) rolled her eyes affectionately at her Squad Leader’s antics, a small smile making its way to her face at the thought of the energetic brunette bouncing around her titan experiments while Levi grumbled in annoyance about her getting eaten one day.
Suddenly, Zephyr gave a little crow hop, bouncing over a small log in the field instead of going around it like (Y/N) had expected. Normally, she didn’t mind it too much, sometimes grunting in annoyance at her mare being stubborn but being otherwise unaffected. But this time, the movement caused her to gasp in pain, feeling as if she had just been burned between her shoulders. She saw her surrounding squad members give her odd looks and Hanji even turned with a raised eyebrow to check that she was alright, but she waved them off. She could handle this, she had handled it before, she could handle it now. Anger washed through her system at the stubbornness of her body. She hated how it demanded from her so often, striking bolts of pain into her back every time she  refused to let go for more than a few days at a time. She would’ve done so a few days ago, but she had been so busy, she hadn’t had time and now her body hurt like a bitch, screaming at her to just let go.
Ignoring the urge to either give herself what she wanted or claw her own back out, (Y/N) clenched her jaw so tight her teeth hurt and continued forward, hoping for the first time in her life for some titans to show up so she could distract herself from this pain with some well placed blows to the nape. She was at least grateful for the fact that Levi was stationed on the other side of the formation, too far away to focus on her.
Almost as if someone was listening to her thoughts, a red flare went off to their left. Hanji immediately jerked her head up and shouted out orders, lifting her own flare to shoot it into the sky. (Y/N) braced herself, her hand coming back to rest on the handle of her blade despite the lack of visual, waiting for the ugly beasts to show their faces.
She felt them before she saw them, their heavy footfalls making the ground shake as they got nearer. She felt her horse tense beneath her, but a few cooing words had her mare relaxing again, focusing on doing her job. Hanji’s squad was reaching the edge of the forest when the titans finally showed themselves, their wide grins and sparkling eyes spelling out a violent death for all of them as the beasts broke into a run, headed straight for the group of soldiers. The Garrison soldiers around her gasped in fear, their bodies tensing to the point of some of them making their horses frustrated, the animals snorting and pinning their ears at the increased pressure on their flanks.
(Y/N) shot them reassuring looks despite her annoyance at their inexperience, trying to be sensitive to their fear. It was one of the very few times they had ever been outside the walls after all. Pulling her swords from their sheathes, (Y/N) waited for the signal from Hanji, watching as the man-eating monsters got closer and closer, their mouths gaping open in anticipation.
When the beasts were close enough for them to practically feel their hot breath, Hanji gave the signal and the entire squad scattered immediately. The Garrison soldiers reacted slower but followed Hanji’s team, not arguing for once as they fought to avoid being ripped to shreds. Three Garrison soldiers rode on either side of (Y/N) as she galloped towards one of the titans and leaped from her horse, swords poised to strike. The Garrison soldiers stayed on the ground as was part of the plan, and let (Y/N) shoot her hooks into the titan, slicing the beast while it was focused on trying to eat the soldiers below. The giant died with a crash, its body already steaming by the time it hit the ground. (Y/N) landed on the titan’s shoulders, hissing as the hot steam bit her skin, and whistled for her horse.
“Good work, you three,” (Y/N) said as she remounted Zephyr, riding back up to the men flanking her. “If we keep doing that, everything will be fine.”
(Y/N) knew she was lying. Anything could happen on an expedition that could lead to their unexpected deaths, but as the men nodded, a little bit of color coming back into their paled faces, she knew it was worth it to lie. If she could keep their confidence up, their mission would have a higher chance of success. 
Looking around, (Y/N) spotted the rest of Hanji’s squad joining back together, the three titans lying dead on the ground, the steam rising into the air as they disintegrated. Nodding to the Garrison soldiers around her, (Y/N) kicked her horse forward and rejoined the group.
“Any sign of the climbing ones yet?” (Y/N) asked, riding up beside Hanji. Her Squad Leader shook her head, a slight look of disappointment on her face.
“Not yet, but we’re still watching. Keep an eye out for black flares.”
“Yes, Captain,” (Y/N) said, slowing Zephyr down again to rejoin her proper formation placement.
The mission continued on surprisingly smoothly, titans coming and going but only some managing to get past the other legions to reach Hanji’s squad. The ones that did get through the ranks were easily slaughtered, the soldiers remaining in their tight knit formation as much as possible. By the time they were rounding the forest, aiming to rejoin the other two groups, (Y/N) was starting to lose control. While killing the titans provided her a good distraction, flying into the air on her ODM gear just made the pain in her back worse, her body screaming at her with every galloping step. Spots were starting to form in her vision, and she knew something bad would happen if she didn’t get help soon.
“Hanji-”
(Y/N) was interrupted by the appearance of several black flares at once, painting the sky in a smokey grey as they faded with the wind. All thoughts of her pain eddied from (Y/N)’s mind at the sight of those flares, where they came from. That was from Levi’s squad. (Y/N) fought the panic that automatically rose in her throat. They had been on several missions together and had survived every single one. (Y/N) had to have confidence that this would be no different. Levi was Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, he could handle himself just fine on the battlefield.
Regardless, when Hanji announced that they were changing directory, spinning her horse around to run towards the source of the black flares, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a flash of relief, eager to check on her lover and protect him if necessary.
____________________________
Levi cursed as another abnormal leapt at him, keeping him too busy to assist anyone else, his heart clenching at the sound of screaming all around him. It had happened so fast, everything had been normal, calm, almost peaceful until one of them had jumped out of a tree like a giant, horrific ape. After that, only more and more had followed, the climbing titans using the trees as leverage to jump on top of the soldiers, crushing the ones under their feet and disorienting the ones that managed to avoid the first devastating blow.
The titan swiped for him again, nearly spinning him out of control when one of its claws caught the edge of his cape, ripping the fabric and throwing off his balance. He was running low on gas but he had no place to go, the forest too far away to latch onto a tree and the titan too difficult to use as an anchor point. Levi twisted, and shot his hooks out again before quickly retracting them from where they had landed in the beast’s neck, using the momentum of which to throw himself out of the way of the titan’s next grab at him.
That was when he saw his opening. Right as he twisted, he noticed that the titan had swung too hard too fast when aiming for Levi, and ended up stumbling forward a little, off balance from the force of the swing. Not wasting a second longer, Levi shot for its nape, spinning as he dove down and slicing through the flesh with a furious roar. The beast crumpled to the ground, taking Levi with it until the raven-haired Captain could land safely on its head.
Looking around again, Levi growled in anger. His squad seemed shaken and injured but alive, while the Garrison soldiers had dropped like flies, the strategic fighting style of these new titans proving to be too much for the normally lazy soldiers. While he normally hated the Garrison, Levi couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the unnecessary deaths, gritting his teeth in anger as he looked towards the forest where things seemed to have quieted down again. For now.
The sound of hoofbeats roused him from his thoughts as he mounted his stallion and regrouped with his squad, his head turning to see Hanji’s squad heading right for them. Kicking his horse into a gallop, Levi and his group met Hanji half way, his eyes automatically searching for (Y/N) and softening when he found her, her own relieved gaze settled on him.
“Levi, what’s going on?” Hanji demanded.
“Abnormal climbing titans, just like the reports said. They were in the goddamn trees, used them like fucking launch pads to corner us,” Levi said, the fire in his eyes stating very clearly what the next set of instructions were. Kill not capture.
Hanji saw that look too and hung her head but nodded. She may be a crazy scientist who loved to do tests on man-eating monsters, but she wouldn’t risk lives unnecessarily. Levi nodded once, grateful for her lack of protest.
“I am low on gas so unless someone has another canister, I’m going to need to head back to the middle. I probably only have enough to shoot up into a tree. That last titan kept toying with me for a while, and I couldn’t find a place to land.”
Hanji’s eyes widened before she nodded. “I’ll take care of your squad, go to Erwin in the center formation. They might even have some extra canisters there if you look in the supply wagon, assuming it hasn’t been destroyed by a titan yet.”
Levi grunted in acknowledgement and turned around, clicking his tongue and pressing his legs into his stallion’s side. His horse burst into a canter and started heading for where they knew Erwin was stationed, the red flares in the sky telling them they had not yet encountered the abnormals.
(Y/N) was just about to turn and double check the gas levels on the canisters of the soldiers around her, able to act as Hanji’s second in command due to her experience, when movement in the trees caught her eye. Her eyes widened and Levi’s name was out of her mouth in a scream before her mind could even really process the situation. Kicking her horse into a furious gallop, (Y/N) ignored the shouts of her name as she rode right for her lover, her eyes watching as the abnormal titan, its body hidden by the canopy of trees, made right for Levi.
To her horror, Levi slowed to a stop and turned to see what (Y/N) wanted, not yet having realized that he was only thirty feet from death. Screaming for him to get out of the way, (Y/N) pushed Zephyr to the brink, desperate to reach him before the titan did, her eyes catching the white teeth that glinted in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees.
Watching where she was looking, Levi finally realized what she must be screaming about. Looking towards the forest, he still couldn’t see anything, but he figured he must be at the wrong angle to see whatever danger (Y/N) could see. Immediately putting his full faith in her, Levi started galloping again, trying to get out of the way. But it was too late. Just as he started moving again, his eyes finally caught sight of the abnormal titan, the beast hanging from a tree branch and smiling at him, drool falling in rivers from its mouth as it eyed him like a fresh cut steak.
Levi knew it was too late, his eyes closing as the titan leaped at him, its mouth gaping, teeth ready to bite him in half. There was nothing he could do. He was out of gas, out of time. His horse panicked beneath him, trying to turn in a way that would avoid the blow, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“I love you, (Y/N),” Levi murmured to himself just as he felt his body get slammed out of the saddle.
_____________________________
Levi grunted in pain at the feeling of being swatted from the back of his horse, his eyes squeezed shut as the wind howled in his ears. He had expected the titan to jump on him like the last one did, but as he felt himself flying through the air, he realized the beast must’ve thrown him. He braced himself to hit the ground, almost hoping the impact would kill him quickly rather than feeling the pain of being crushed between a titan’s teeth. 
But he never did. 
Opening his eyes, Levi looked down to see the ground far below him, the other soldiers scrambling for cover as the titan rampaged below. He could even see his own stallion, riderless, galloping around in a panic, clearly having jumped out of the titan’s way when he was thrown out of the saddle. But he wasn’t falling towards the ground.
Levi fought for breath as he realized he was flying parallel to the ground, neither rising nor falling, just gliding over the field. He gasped out when his body turned in midair, curving in an arc and dipping down to aim back to where his squad members had finally managed to kill the abnormal and were looking at him with shocked faces, standing around with wide eyes and dropped jaws.
Suddenly, his body was shifted a little, and Levi realized there were a pair of strong, soft arms holding him close to someone’s chest. The wind still howled in his ears, but now that some of the initial panic was gone, he could detect the sound of crying. Looking up, Levi froze, his eyes locking on familiar (e/c) ones he saw everyday. (Y/N) was carrying him. But then how was she working her ODM gear without using her hands to pull the triggers? Where was she connecting her grappling hooks to?
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” (Y/N) was whispering over and over again into his ear, her body shaking almost as much as his.
“(Y/N), what-?”
That was when he finally noticed. His face had been so close to hers, his eyes so focused on holding her gaze that he hadn’t thought to look out a little. But now he saw. Over the rush of the wind in his ears he could hear it too, the sound of the air being beat around them. His breath caught in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Poking out from (Y/N)’s back to stretch taut on either side of her, were a pair of gorgeous, leathery black wings.
“Hold on tight to me,” (Y/N) murmured, not giving him a chance to question her before she dove down, folding her wings in slightly so that they sped towards Levi’s squad. Levi naturally gripped her harder, his arms around her neck and his face nestled into her throat as they dropped, his heart in his mouth. Just before hitting the ground, (Y/N) spread her wings out again, flaring them open to catch the wind and slow their descent before flapping them a few times to land gracefully on the ground.
(Y/N) instantly set Levi back down on the ground as soon as they were stable, but held her shoulder out to him to lean against, knowing his legs were probably like jelly after that near death experience. She was still trembling like a leaf, a mix of adrenaline and paralyzing fear overwhelming her body. 
She hadn’t thought when she had finally let go. She just did it. The sight of Levi, about to get eaten by that foul beast, had wiped all sense of logic from her brain. She would’ve used her gear, but she knew she wouldn’t have reached him in time, her natural mode of flight much faster than a bucket of bolts and wires.
The horrible pain in her back was gone now, replaced by a pleasant throbbing as the satisfying new weight sat perfectly between her shoulders. Her back was automatically realigned, her body made for the wings she displayed so that she wouldn’t hunch. It felt so good to have them out again, even if the breeze that brushed them did cause her to shiver and tuck them in close to her body. But she knew now. There was no hiding this from anyone. Erwin may not have been around to see it, but both of Levi’s and Hanji’s squads had seen it, along with all of the Garrison soldiers that had come along for the trip.
She was starting to feel light headed. This was bad. This was really really bad. Memories came flooding back, the cages and the chains and the whips and the evil grins. She didn’t know what to do. Should she fly away? She didn’t have to worry about titans so much when she didn’t have to worry about gas usage, but then she would be leaving her friends and comrades alone with little gas and a shocked, distracted state of mind. If they didn’t get themselves together when she left, too stunned by her secret to function as an elite unit, they would most certainly perish. She was just about to say something when one of the Garrison soldiers opened his mouth instead.
“Well well well…,” he nearly purred, making (Y/N)’s hair stand up on end. “What  do we have here? Those are some pretty sweet wings you’ve got there. How did you get them?”
“That’s none of your concern,” (Y/N) said, her body tensing as she brought her wings impossibly closer to her body.
“I’m assuming it’s a difficult, nearly impossible procedure? I wonder exactly how many of you there are out there. Not many, I’m assuming?”
(Y/N) didn’t answer. She could see where this was going but she had to wait it out, her eyes scanning the territory around them not only for an escape route, but also to check for oncoming titans.
“That makes me wonder…, how much someone would be willing to pay for the only winged human in the world…”
(Y/N) met his eyes then. She felt Levi tense beside her but he still seemed to be in shock, his hair covering his face as he looked down at the ground, refusing to even glance in her direction. The sight made her heart clench painfully. She had known she would lose him when she finally revealed her true self to him, but it didn’t lessen the pain of actually experiencing it, the happy memories from the past six months flooding her brain only to turn sour at the sight of the normally regal Captain hunched over in distress.
“GET HER!”
The loud bellow snapped her out of her thoughts, her head jerking around to see every Garrison soldier immediately charge her, weapons raised and eyes glimmering. She could see them practically drooling at the thought of the mountains of money they were going to receive for bringing back such a rare creature. Letting out a loud snarl, (Y/N) viciously snapped her wings open, the large black membranes stretching out in their entirety before she shot into the air, knocking some of the surrounding soldiers over with the force of her wings flapping. She heard the sound of gunshots and let out a yelp when she felt a bullet strike her side but she kept flying, darting into the forest without hesitation, her wings curling and arching to allow her to whip around the trees. Her wings pumped, beating the air as she flew as fast as she could, disappearing into the foliage until she could no longer hear the unintelligible sounds of screaming behind her.
___________________________
Levi was a complete wreck. When that piece of shit had barked at his men to grab her, bringing out his gun and actually managing to hit her somewhere, Levi had snapped out of his daze and damn near killed the man. Only having both Hanji and a frantic Erwin drag him off the other man had kept Levi from finishing him off.
Erwin, who had come running up when neither of his two troops came back, was quickly briefed on the situation while the Garrison soldiers were held at gunpoint, all of them trying to figure out what the hell to do. In the end, Erwin had decided to retreat, the threat of more titans appearing becoming a greater and greater threat the longer they stayed in one place. Levi had been adamant, refusing to leave his lover out on her own, but Hanji, Erwin, and eventually Mike managed to force him to come with them.
As soon as they had made it back to base, the Garrison soldiers had been imprisoned for the unprecedented attack against a Survey Corps officer, none of their superiors believing in a story about a woman with wings, all of them assuming the men had gone crazy from their experience outside the walls for the first time. The Survey Corps soldiers had been sent back to base to eat and rest, despite the fact that it was obvious none of that was going to happen with the entire place abuzz with rumors and retellings of what had happened on the battlefield.
Levi was distraught, pacing his office as if he were caged, his hand raking through his hair. Hanji and Erwin joined him in his office as soon as they had put away their horses and gear, Hanji even taking the time to take care of (Y/N)’s horse before finding their friend in his quarters. Neither one of them had ever seen him this upset and it worried them, the wild look in his eyes as he fought with himself over the decision to leave her out there, even when he hadn’t had a choice.
“I’m assuming, Levi, based on your reaction that you did not know?” Erwin asked carefully.
“Of course I didn’t know! I mean, her back was really bothering her and she’s always been sensitive to touch, almost fearful of it, but there was nothing to suggest that she has fucking wings hidden in her back!”
“Okay, we need to think about this very carefully,” Hanji said.
“What is there to think about!?” Levi cried. “We are going back out there to get her as soon as the horses have had some water and my squad has rested.”
“Levi, it’s not that simple. We were able to stop the spread of rumors throughout the Garrison for now, but what do you think will happen when we get her back here, hmm? You can’t protect her from everyone, and word will get out about her… gift. You can’t just lock her up in a box either. Obviously, she’s been having some problems with keeping this a secret, so we need to have a solid plan, something to ensure her safety before we throw her into danger unnecessarily,” Hanji said.
Levi sighed and hung his head, bracing his palms against the edge of his desk. What his friends were saying was true, but he just couldn’t help the feelings that were running rampant through him. The thought of anyone trying to take his lover from him made his blood boil. He wanted nothing more than to protect her at all costs, to keep her safe and hidden away from the dangers of the world. 
But Hanji was right. She wasn’t just some animal that could be kept in a room and still be happy. She was a person, and not just any person, a person with wings. She would naturally want to be out and about. Besides, he didn’t want her to have to live that way anyway. He wanted her to be able to live her life freely, the way she wanted to, without fear of being captured and used for experiments.
Levi looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Erwin standing beside him, his face scrunched with worry for both of his hurting friends. He could see how much Levi wanted to help her, but he was being irrational and just needed a moment to step back.
“Levi, right now I want you to settle down and rest. That’s an order,” Erwin said when Levi opened his mouth to argue. “Hanji and I will start putting together a plan and go over it with you tomorrow, but right now, you are not in the right frame of mind to contribute. Understood?”
Levi wanted to press the issue further but he eventually nodded and sighed, accepting defeat.
“Good.”
Levi watched as his two friends left, closing the door behind them in the hopes that Levi would be able to eventually relax a little. Levi scoffed at the idea, resting while his beloved was stuck outside the walls, injured and struggling for survival. The only comfort he had was that it was getting dark outside, the titans settling down for the night with the setting sun.
“Just hang in there, (Y/N). Please, just stay alive, I’m coming for you as soon as I can, I promise.”
_________________________________
Levi shot awake, his body covered in sweat and his chest heaving to find himself in his office. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, only that he had obviously dozed off in his desk chair, his neck aching from the odd sleeping position. He had been dreaming of (Y/N) calling for his help, screaming as she was crushed between the jaws of a titan. He had tried to reach her, but his feet wouldn’t move, keeping him frozen to the floor as he watched the love of his life die, even after she had saved his life without hesitation.
He brought a hand to his face, wiping the sweat from his skin and closing his eyes again, the sight of (Y/N) blowing him a kiss and mouthing ‘I love you’ before she died, burned into his brain no matter how many times he tried to convince himself it wasn’t real. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes again, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. (Y/N) was the strongest woman he knew. Not only as a soldier, but also in her determination to help others and make it through any situation, no matter the challenge. If anyone could make it out there, it would be her.
Standing up, Levi was about to go brew himself some tea when a light tapping on the glass of his window made him look up. He nearly choked on his gasp at the sight of (Y/N), holding a hand to her side where she had wrapped her bullet wound with torn pieces of her jacket, but seemingly otherwise unharmed. She was standing on the windowsill on the side of the castle, her wings hidden again.
Levi wasted no time in sprinting to the window and flinging it open, pulling her into his arms, immediately burying his face into her neck and inhaling her scent, his right hand placed against her chest to feel her heartbeat drum against his fingers. She sagged against him and hugged him back, a small smile spreading across her face at his affection.
“Oh my gods, (Y/N),” Levi choked out, reaching up to stroke her hair softly. “I was so fucking worried.”
“I’m here now, Levi. It’s okay.”
“How?” Levi asked, pulling back to look her into her eyes.
“Um…, it wasn’t too bad when I didn’t have to worry about gas. I just had to stay high enough to keep away from the titans that could jump, and then I stayed above the cloud line when crossing the wall to stay out of sight.”
Levi blinked at her and she glanced away from him, her front teeth coming out to bite at her lip nervously. He still hadn’t reacted to the news. She knew there was a chance he could try to imprison her, or have her experimented on, but she just couldn’t stay away from him. She had argued with herself when she had finally found a safe pace to stay, but she knew she couldn’t leave him. No matter what happened to her, she had to see him one last time.
“Hey,” Levi said, gently lifting her chin. “It’s okay. It’s definitely… different, but I love you and nothing could ever change that. Not even a pair of beautiful wings.”
“You think they’re beautiful?” (Y/N) asked, a hopeful glint in her eye.
“Yes,” Levi breathed. “And they helped you save my life, thank you.”
(Y/N) nodded and nuzzled into his chest a little, her nerves still tingling. He had called them beautiful, but she still felt wary, like something bad was going to happen any second now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Levi asked after a moment of silence.
“You saw what happened when people found out. I became very valuable all of a sudden, and not in the good way.”
“You think I would ever do that to you?”
“No.., not really. I guess, I was worried about you hating me, but I never thought you’d hurt me. I was mostly afraid of everyone else, and what they might’ve done to you if you tried to prevent them from taking me.”
Levi looked into her eyes then. She had kept them a secret not just to protect herself but also to protect him. His heart warmed at the sentiment at the same time that anger coiled in his gut, upset at the idea of her having to feel this way because people wouldn’t accept her for who she is.
“How?” Levi asked.
(Y/N) knew what he meant. She loosed a sigh and backed away from him, her arms coming around to hold herself.
“I don’t know specifically how because the experiments technically weren’t done on me. But I was raised in a lab. I was experimented on a lot after I was born, testing my limits and trying to see how strong I was. It was horrible, especially when they would test pain durability and tolerance,” Levi sucked in a breath but didn’t interrupt, letting her pour her heart out.
“I was apparently supposed to be the newest weapon for the Survey Corps, a new line of technology that some people discovered one day. I was supposed to be a prototype of some sort, for a new way to fight. They were going to advertise having this procedure done on people so that we would never have to use ODM gear ever again.”
“But it didn’t go according to plan. I said earlier that the experiments technically weren’t done on me because it was originally my mother that they were using. She was a nobody, a prostitute from the Underground that nobody cared about after she had gotten pregnant from a client. Problem was, when they selected her, they didn’t know she was pregnant. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know either. They just picked her because she was losing popularity at her particular brothel. Turns out morning sickness isn’t exactly a turn on,” (Y/N) said bitterly, making Levi’s blood boil at the thought of this poor pregnant woman going through that.
“She was experimented on, injected with things, tortured. All in the hopes that she would grow wings like I did. What they didn’t know was that the treatments were actually affecting me inside of her, making me develop differently. They found out when they noticed her stomach extending and used some tests to determine she was pregnant. They made her go through with it, keeping her healthy until I was born,” (Y/N) closed her eyes and swallowed hard, a shuddering breath escaping from her lips as she recalled the last part.
“Apparently, since I developed wings in the womb, when I was born, I ended up killing my own mother, her body not prepared to give birth to two extra appendages. I was too big for her body to handle, in terms of shape, and I ended up ripping her on the inside, both with the size of my wings and the talons I have on each crest.”
Levi’s eyes widened, (Y/N)’s bitter expression telling him that everything she said was true.
“But they didn’t care about my mother. She was just some rat from the Underground to them. So when she died, they threw her body out back for the animals to get and immediately started working on me.”
(Y/N) chuckled darkly when Levi growled, her eyes flashing in agreement. “Yeah I know.”
“So, how did you get out?” Levi asked.
“Well, they would take me on these test flights sometimes, outside the walls to see how good I was at killing titans and maneuvering around their attempts to catch me. I was always attached to things or people, chained to a cart or something to keep me from flying away. One day, when we were out, a horde of titans came out of nowhere. I killed some of them, protecting myself, but when they went for the people I was tortured by…, I just didn’t act quite as fast as I could’ve to kill the titans.”
Levi nodded, love swelling in his chest at the thought that she had trusted him enough to tell him that. “C-Can I see them?”
(Y/N) hesitated. She trusted Levi, but years of instincts and habits were hard to break. Steeling her nerves, (Y/N) nodded once and closed her eyes. Levi watched in awe as (Y/N) took a deep breath and slowly unfurled her wings, the large black membranes expanding and stretching until they were fully revealed.
Levi knew she was feeling nervous, could tell in the way she shifted from foot to foot and bit her lip again, but he couldn’t form the words to comfort her, rendered speechless by the sight in front of him. He had thought they were beautiful when he saw them briefly on the battlefield, but now up close, the only word he could think of to describe her was stunning. Her wingspan was obviously huge, the wings stretching out enough to almost brush along both walls of his office. They gleamed in the flickering candlelight, especially off of the sharp talons she had at the tip of each wing. They almost seemed to breathe, the muscles naturally rising and falling with each breath she took, the membranes turned into various shades of red and gold as the light filtered through them.
“Wow…,” Levi murmured, prompting a blush to form on (Y/N)’s cheeks.
“You don’t think they’re weird?”
“No,” Levi said, gently coming closer to her. “Do you think…, do you think I could… touch one?”
(Y/N) tensed a little but eventually nodded, a curious spark in her eye. “Just be gentle, they are ~Hah! Ahhahh…”
Levi had gently brushed his fingertip along her left wing as she was talking, the soft moan that escaped her mouth causing him to freeze. He looked at her face to see her gritting her teeth.
“That,” she swallowed. “Is very sensitive.”
“Bad sensitive or good sensitive?”
“G-Good.”
Levi smirked. “Oh? What if I do this?”
(Y/N) clenched her fists and stood ramrod straight, a gasp tearing from her throat as he took two fingers and ran them along the inner curve of her wing, brushing against her with the utmost care and gentleness.
Levi marveled at the feeling of her wing. It was way softer than he could’ve ever imagined, like pure silk. It was warm too, he could feel the pulsing of her heartbeat through the membrane, the heat from her blood circulation making her wing have the feeling of freshly baked cookies.
“What does it feel like?” Levi asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.
“Um, like this,” (Y/N) said, her words strangled. She surprised him by placing her hand beneath his shirt and running it down his chest with featherlight caresses. When she reached his abs, she unexpectedly leaned forward and bit his ear lobe, licking along the shell and blowing on it, making him shudder with a quiet groan.
“Oh,” Levi said, his voice two octaves deeper than before as tingles exploded through his system.
“Yeah,” (Y/N) said with a chuckle.
“Where do you hide them?” Levi asked as he reached his hand up to stroke her wing again, ripping another gasp from her.
“There are two slits in my back, they look almost like a pair of giant fish gills. They are nearly unnoticeable normally, but when I haven’t opened them for a while they become more prominent.”
“Is that also why you were having such horrible back pain?”
“Yeah, if I keep them hidden for too long my body starts to get upset with me. You see, I’m built to have wings. My spine is slightly altered to accommodate for them, so when I hide them away, it curls my spine abnormally. If I don’t release them every few days, I get those back pains you saw me dealing with. I normally just release them in my room when it’s late at night and the doors are locked, but I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to safely stretch them out without hurting myself. It was because of that that I was so sensitive to touch as well. Part of it was genuinely from my past of abuse, but the other part of it was to make sure you didn’t find them by accident. Sometimes you can cause them to come out by squeezing the right pressure point on my back.”
Levi nodded. “(Y/N), I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this alone. I wish you had told me sooner. Just know that I will protect you and we will get through this together, alright? I’m not leaving you and I will not let anyone take you from me.”
(Y/N) smiled at him, tears springing to her eyes at his warm sentiment. Gods, she was so in love with this man. If she thought he was perfect before, she didn’t know what to think now other than he was more than perfect, and she couldn’t help but swell with pride and love at the thought that he was all hers. She knew in the morning she would have to face a bombardment of questions and the world would get a lot more dangerous for her, but with Levi by her side, she knew they could conquer anything.
190 notes · View notes
collecting-stories · 4 years ago
Text
Shane pt. 2 - c. 17 - Daryl Dixon
Summary: Shane causes trouble but nothing that stops you from being with Daryl.
A/N: It's Norman Reedus’ bday so I had to get this posted tonight.
Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
The first time you told him that you liked him, Daryl’s response had been instantaneous. He knew how he felt about you but he also knew that getting into a relationship with you wouldn’t be good, for you at least. He didn’t want you to deal with the way that people would talk about you, the way he already knew they were when you were just hanging around him. 
Going to your graduation party wasn’t his best idea, he knew that too. But he thought about that invite all night, the way you’d smiled at him when you got out of the truck after he drove you home, asking again if he would come to the party. He’d avoided any other invitation you had offered and yet, for some reason, he couldn’t avoid this one.  
And when you kissed him, he didn’t stop you.  
It was the only time in his life that Daryl could remember doing something simply because he wanted to. He liked you and when you kissed him, he let himself like you without thinking about everyone else. Which was for the worst obviously, because the second he let himself focus on only the two of you, everything went to hell.  
He couldn’t stand Shane; the guy was a loser and always had been. The fact that you had wasted your time on him was unbelievable sometimes.  
“Shane, just go back up...I’ll be there in a minute.” You tried once more to get Shane to leave, to halt the growing tension in its path.  
“So, you’re seeing Dixon now?” Shane asked, looking passed Daryl to you.  
“Not really any of your business.” You snapped.  
“I already told you, whatever’s going on with you, I still care. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you.” He replied and you almost laughed.  
“Rich coming from you,” you muttered. “Just go back up to the house, Shane.”  
“You know what,” Shane said, obviously ready to get one more thing off his chest before he left, “my family’s lived across from the Dixons for a while now. I know all about ‘em.” He said it as if it was a threat, looking over at Daryl as if it could uncover some great secret that you didn’t know about.  
“Good to know.” You pulled on the sleeve of Daryl’s jacket, getting him to look at you instead of Shane, “can you just take me home, I don’t care about the stupid cake.”  
“That’s fine,” Daryl nodded, “go ‘head and get in.”  
Before he could move out of the way and let you get in the cab, Shane grabbed your arm, trying to pull you toward him, “hey! I’m not done talking to you!”  
Just as he yanked your arm Daryl shoved him back, the motion making you lose your footing and fall on the grass, landing on your hip. You pushed yourself up in time to catch Daryl tackling Shane to the ground, knocking him into one of the lanterns.  
He punched him, fist slamming into his nose and Shane practically screaming at the feeling of his nose likely breaking. He tried to push Daryl off him but it was no use, Daryl continuing to punch him as they wrestled in the dirt.  
Annette had the sense to mention sending Shane down to get you and Rick, who had stopped by with Michonne to congratulate you and hopefully get a slice of cake, asked exactly where you were, knowing things weren’t good between you two. He and Michonne were heading down the path just as Daryl tackled Shane. They picked up speed, practically running as Shane got the upper hand, locking his arm around Daryl’s neck in a chokehold. You had managed to get up off the ground, kicking Shane’s back and throwing him off enough that he let go of Daryl, who rolled away from him and stood up.  
Rick grabbed Shane, pushing him away from Daryl.  
“Walk it off Shane!” Rick snapped. You imagined that was his stern Officer Grimes voice.  
“We were just talking.”  
“Like hell,” Daryl said, “touch her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”  
“Hey,” you grabbed his arm again, pulling away from Shane. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” you promised, trying to put your hands on his face and turn his head to look at you. Your eyes met in the dark, “It’s okay.”  
“Daryl,” Michonne started to say and he nodded his head, already knowing where she was going.  
“I’m leaving.” He said, pulling away from you. “I’ll see ya.” He promised.  
You watched him swing the passenger door shut as he walked around the other side of the truck, climbing in and backing out the driveway. Michonne was standing with you, Rick walking Shane back up to the house and away from you, dissipating the tension of the moment and leaving you in the aftermath of it.  
“Looks like you keep finding me after fights huh?” You said, looking over at Michonne, trying to make light of the situation.  
“You sure know how to pick ‘em.” Michonne replied.  
“To be fair, Daryl’s the only one I’m ‘picking’. Shane’s a douche, he just can’t take a hint.” You said.  
“So you and Daryl are dating then?” She asked, putting her arm around you to help you walk up the path now that Rick and Shane were far enough away. “God, I can’t remember a time he’s ever dated anyone.”  
“I don’t know if we’re...dating but-” you groaned, pain shooting up your leg as you miss stepped.  
Michonne gripped your arm, helping you get your balance. “Are you okay?” She asked, trying to look you over. The light on the path was limited to the lanterns, not enough that Michonne could clearly see though, “let's get you up to the house.”  
You walked carefully the rest of the way up to the house, ignoring some partygoers as Michonne brought you into the house, pulling a chair into the kitchen and instructing you to sit down so that she could get ice. The screen door banged open, Maggie and Beth coming inside, “I saw Michonne bring you in here, what happened?”  
“I’m fine,” you lied, shifting away from both of them so that they couldn’t see the dirt on the side of your dress or the hint of a bruise forming that was visible under the hem. You knew you should’ve been focused on the throbbing pain that was running through your hip but all you were really focused on was Daryl and if Shane freaking out on the two of you would change anything that had happened moments before. If he had the chance to overthink the kiss would he regret it and go back to trying to avoid you?  
“We’ll be right out,” Michonne promised, managing to kick the Greene girls out of their own kitchen, closing the screen door behind them. She was no stranger to news in King County and how fast it traveled, the last thing you or Daryl needed was anyone hearing about the fight he and Shane had gotten in. “Here’s some ice,” she offered you a bag of ice cubes wrapped in a dish cloth, pressing it against your hip as you took hold of it, “should help with the bruising. Can you tell me what happened?”  
“This like an interrogation or something?” You asked, crossing your legs to relieve the pain in your hip, taking weight off it as you shifted in the chair.  
“I just wanna understand what happened,” she explained, grabbing another chair and sitting down across from you.  
“I was down at the barn with Daryl when Shane came down, said Annette sent him to get me for cake. I told him I’d be right up and he started saying shit to me and Daryl...he gave us trouble a little while ago,” you said.  
“What happened then?”  
“Nothing, I was at the gas station. We got in the truck and left.” You replied.  
“You were with Daryl again?”  
“Shane doesn’t like that I’m not still head over heels in love with him.” You said, “he’s got something against Daryl too, doesn’t think I should be hanging around him.”  
“I’m sure a lot of people are thinking that.” Michonne admitted, knowing what people said about her friend.  
“That’s cause they don’t know anything about Daryl, they just like not liking him.” You snapped, looking away.  
“I’m not arguing with you.” She replied. “I been friends with Daryl for a little while now, he’s one of the best ones. Look, let me drive you home?” She offered.  
“I’m staying with Tara this weekend,” you mentioned, “we drove here in my jeep, she’s got the keys.”  
“Okay, wait here, I’ll go find her.”  
Before Michonne could get all the way out the kitchen door you called her, catching her attention. You turned in the chair, twisting to look at her, “do you think Daryl will still talk to me? I mean, he’s been saying we shouldn’t be together and now we kinda...finally got together...and Shane fucked it up.”  
“I don’t think Daryl’s going anywhere.” Michonne replied. “I’ll be right back, you ice that hip.”  
-
Despite you most likely driving Tara crazy all Saturday night into Sunday morning, she didn’t say anything negative about you and Daryl. She suggested that you talk to him, look for him at the autoshop or his house and, technically, you knew that was the best solution but you were nervous. Worried that Shane losing it on the two of you would push Daryl away from you and now that you had him, now that he wasn’t fighting it, you didn’t want your relationship with him to be over before it started.  
You drug your feet over it until Sunday night when you finally drove to his house, parking on the street and walking down the short driveway to the carport. “Did I know you had a bike?” You asked, catching sight of Daryl crouched down in front of a motorcycle, or something resembling one, that was up on supports.  
He turned to look at you, standing up and wiping his hands on the rag in the back pocket of his pants. “Been working on it for a couple months, had ta finish yer jeep first,” he replied, glancing passed your shoulder to the jeep sitting on the curb.
“Are you building it?” You asked, noticing the absence of tires on it.  
“Yeah, trying ta get it up an’ running.” He watched you walk closer, stepping up beside him to look at the bike closer. Daryl didn’t give much thought to what he did next, he put his hand on your arm, just above your elbow, drawing your attention to him. When you turned your head he leaned in, kissing you. “Sorry,” he apologized when he pulled away, “just wanted ta do that again.”
“That’s fine with me.” You smiled, kissing him one more time. “I was worried you’d throw in the towel on me after that whole mess with Shane.” You admitted.  
Daryl shrugged, walking over to the mini fridge and grabbing himself a beer, “he’s a prick, always has been. Don’t bother me. Ya alright though? Michonne said ya got hurt?”
“I bruised my hip,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Think it was when I fell.”
“Ya alright?” He asked again, “ya want me ta look at it?”  
“You want me to take my pants off...”
“Ain’t what I was saying.” Daryl was quick to explain, the red tinting his cheeks.
“I know, I just like bothering you.” You replied.  
“Ya are a bother,” he said, taking a sip of his beer, “I’ll give ya that.” When he walked back over to the bike, laying his bottle on the ground near it, you dragged the chair over closer to him so you could watch, beginning to tell him about the cake that Annette had sent you home with, offering him the piece you brought with you. 
-
Taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @angelophany @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @mainokutan @sabertooth-potato @solllaris @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @meziah-48 @dietspriteaddict @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here @marvelfanatic @pulplorrd @shizukunora
150 notes · View notes
fandomscombine · 4 years ago
Text
Heartbroken Wingwoman
BG: You were hoping that your best friend, Cedric to ask you to the Yule Ball. Instead you were roped into helping him ask Cho out. It broke your heart, but at least this way while helping him out you could pretend that he was doing all the sweet things to you. On the other side of the picture, Harry was too heartbroken upon learning that Cho is going out with Cedric. 
Angst. Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader (Platonic) [Or maybe more, if anyone is interested for a part 2]
WC:1383
a/n: We weren’t given names of Cedric’s friends so let’s pretend that one of them is called Lucas okay? Good!
I wanted to get all the angst fics out of the way before I post fluff pieces for the holidays.
Plus it is my first Cedric fic so feedback is really appreciated.
>>>MASTERLIST<<<
>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<
Tumblr media
~
Seeing him pursue another girl hurt.
Let alone helping him pursue said girl.
That’s right you are helping your best friend ask out one of the most popular girls in Hogwarts, Cho Chang.
You didn’t want to be in this situation. (Who in their right mind would?) But if it means spending more time with him, you would again and again.
Cause who would fall for their childhood best friend who already have pictures and memories of each other in their diapers. (Oh right you would!) Sure, this situation you got yourself isn’t ideal. You had seriously thought it was you Cedric was referring to, but alas it was not.
At least in this way, when coming up with romantic ideas to woo Cho, you would pretend that he was doing them to you.
You were once again silently scolding yourself for going through this agreement. Sighing, you leaned back against the tree truck, pleading for the voice inside your head to shut up.
Peace and quiet only lasted for a moment. A thump had cut through your relaxation and the next think you knew, a weight could be felt in your lap.
Opening your eyes, ready to unleash your irritation on whoever disturbed you. ‘WHO THE FUCK DARES-‘ Oh boy, here we go again. The very problem you were trying to forget was now laying  face up, directing his brilliant award-winning smile at you- everything seem to melt away, you could spend forever just having him stare back at you lovingly and that wouldn’t be even enough. Stupid Cedric Diggory and his ability to make you forget about everything.
Cedric was saying something, but whatever that may be, sounds like cotton. If was as if the rest of the world is in a distorted underwater chamber when you were gazing into his eyes ‘shesaidyes,y/n! Cho-‘
And just like that with one word, the spell is broken. You were cut off your dreamlike state, sent back into the painful reality.
‘hmmm? Sorry what?’
‘I said.’ Cedric rolled his eyes. But even your inattentiveness, did not put him off his cheery mood. In fact, Cedric was more than happy to say the words out loud again. ‘Cho said yes!! She’s gonna be my date to the Yule ball!’
‘That’s… great ced…. really great..’ You tried to mask your pain. Unfortunately, the deliver was no great and you’ve only manged to pull yourself together to give a crooked smile.
‘Wait there’s more!! We’re officially together!’ Fortunately, Cedric was too busy being head over heels for Cho, had failed to notice your odd reactions.
‘Seriously y/n you’re a life saver!’ Cedric kissed your cheek. ‘With all this love advice, I can’t believe how in the whole are you still single?!’ He was baffled by this conundrum. ‘You sure you don’t fancy anyone?’
‘Oh believe me he doesn’t see me that way.’
‘Well his lost then, to not see such a wonderful beautiful woman.’
How this boy ruins you, without realising that his efforts to cheer you up is bringing up down.
‘Oh and by the way, how you got someone to take you to the dance?’
‘No why?’ You run your fingers through the grass, praying that he would get the hint that a date to the yule ball is the last thing on your mind.
‘Perhaps I could set you up with someone, you know as to pay you back for all you’ve down for me.’ Cedric adjusted his seating so that now you were shoulder to shoulder. ‘I bet by now you’re tired to be pretending to be interested in me just so I could practice asking Cho out! Oh I know I’ll ask Lu—'
Immediately your hand covers his mouth. ‘NO!!! No!!! I would rather go alone or with a group of friends
Taking your hand away he asks ‘What why? Why what’s wrong with Lucas?’
You sighed. ‘He’s a really sweet guy Ced, but he’s just not my type—A FACT I told me like a billion times already, yet he still tries.’ Poking at his shoulder to further drive the point home.
Arms up in surrender, Cedric concedes. ‘This guy you like, must really got your heart then does he?’
‘Yeahh..�� Gosh how this by be the kindest and caring human being ever yet fails to see that he is hurting his best friend. ‘Anyway, I have to go…I’m gonna be late for Divination!’ Gathering your things, you ran as fast as you can before tears fall from your face.
Leaving behind a boy not only an oblivious state but also in a confused one mumbling to himself. ‘But you don’t take Divination.’
In your haste to escape what would have been embarrassing scene with Cedric, you hadn’t released that you were headed towards some in maximum velocity.
Coincidentally, that said person also had their mind elsewhere and hadn’t been looking at where they were going.
Resulting in both of you to fall over.
‘Owww!’ You clutch your forehead, already feeling a bump forming. Though as you left go, you were surprised to see your palm bloody. ‘fuc--’
‘OH MY GOSH Y/N!!!’ The string of swear words about to leave your mouth was cut off by the one and only Harry Potter. ‘I AM SO SORRY!!!! HERE LET ME FIX IT…’
Dropping his broom aside, he directed his wand at you. ‘Episkey’ You could feel the healing spell doing its work, the warm sensation no doubt be the cut on your head closing.
‘There you go! Good as new!’ Harry exclaimed, wiping away the blood off your forehead. He noticed your tear stains, but he thought that it was caused by the collision and bit by having your heartbroken. Nevertheless, he tried to lighten the mood by joking. ‘No need to worry about a scar.’
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Did this boy really make a reference to himself?
Harry held out his hand to pull you up. ‘Thanks... for the patch up, though it is your fault. You did hit me with your broom.’
‘Yeah sorry about that….again.’
‘Why do you even have your broom with you? Isn’t Quidditch cancelled this year because of the Triwizard Tournament?’
‘well yea, but I thought I take it out for a ride to clear my head.’ He replied truthfully.
‘The tasks getting you in a snag then?’ You gotta hand it to him to still be working on figuring out what the second task is even Cedric had stopped. Everyone’s focused on the topic of dates or so you thought.
‘Dates actually.’
‘Dates?’
‘Yea… Don’t make fun of me but I haven’t gotten a date yet. Well you see I did went and asked Cho but turns out she’s going with-‘
‘Cedric.’
‘-Cedric yea.. How’d you know?’
Seeing that he had confessed about being rejected by Cho, you thought it was only fair to tell him your truth too.
‘I kinda was hoping he’d asked me really, but what ended up happening was me helping him ask her out.’
‘wow…..that’s gotta hurt y/n…..sorry!! That was insentive.’
‘Nah it’s fine, I’m getting used to rejection anyway.’
As you rounded the corner, out of his sight. Harry had came up with a brilliant idea.
‘Y/n! Y/n wait up!’
When he reached you, he through caution in the wind- what more can he lose? This close to the yule ball, almost everyone is paired up. Harry would rather go with someone he knew and was comfortable with, then some stranger just to satisfy the requirement of each champion needing a date.
‘I just had an idea, you don’t have to agree but since every champion requires a date.’
Your brows arch at the statement.
‘yes I know, it’s compulsory. I swear.  But I just thought being that both the people we wanted to go with are each other’s dates, I was wondering that maybe…why don’t we go together…. To the yule ball…Be each other’s dates to the yule ball?’
‘hmmmmm.’ You weighed out his proposition. ‘yea..yea! Why should we let a good party go to waste just because of them?!?’
‘Brilliant!’ Harry was smiling, Proud that for once in the past 3 weeks, he didn’t choke while asking a girl out. ‘I’ll pick you up at 7pm outside the y/h/h common room.’
~
 If the reception for this is well, I might do a part 2. tbh currenty I have 3 possibe endings, but still can’t choose wish. so comment which you’d like to see!
Can be with multiple ending.
1.       You/cedric, Cho/harry
2.       You/harry, Cho/cedric
3.       Cho/cedric. More Angst, remains platonic, you/harry both heartbroken.
Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​
243 notes · View notes