#crying and begging and coughing up prayers that anyone anywhere cares

[sfucked]

.

[yanderenightmare]

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, heavy dubcon, bordering on noncon, profanity, manipulation

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL - PART TWO

TRUST ME

It's safe to say that Bakugo had gotten used to a certain lifestyle. 

Being top three in all years in the Hero-course, girls fawning, falling at his feet left and right, drooling, begging him to fuck them. 

Or… begging him to take them out on a date. 

But let’s be honest… no girls want to date him, they just want to ride his dick once a week. They just want to know what it feels like to be taken by a real man before halting, limping back to their clueless vanilla-boyfriends, all made up of soft smiles and warm hugs and nothing like Bakugo and how he spanks their girlfriend’s ass until blood leaks from popped veins and his name comes falling from their lips like tearful prayer.

Nowadays though, he’d had to kick more girls to the curb than he could count on both his hands without as much as getting his dick wet from the girl he’d picked for himself, the star that was once so bright and shining like a wild sunflower before he forced himself into her life. 

She seemed to have wilted, as she wouldn’t even spare him a second glance until he forced it from her.

Or… that was unfair. She was perfect, doing everything he asked, but… it wasn’t really willingly, now was it? 

All he needed was ask, but he knew she didn’t try to make him happy because she wanted to, she didn’t try and make him laugh because she wanted to, it didn’t come naturally as it did with others, she did it because she was scared shitless of what he would do if she didn’t.

It made him so unbelievable angry to see her laugh with others. Wrathful, vengeful even, when she buckled over and nearly fell, rolling on the floor in the pit of her humor, crying with how painfully she was wheezing. So furious because he couldn’t even blame her. He couldn’t blame her for preferring other people over him, other smiling laughing idiotic people, pleasant people as opposed to him and his aura of grumpiness. 

Some insouciantly greedy, almost evil, part of him whispered to him those times he saw her smile that genuine angel-bright smile, never with him, that perhaps if he simply took her, took her away, tucked her away more so than what he had already, that perhaps she’d have no choice but to share that light with his darkness, because supernova’s like her need things to shine for, they crave lighting people up, they’re just so fucking eager to please, and if he were the only one around to absorb all which she had to give, then she’d have no choice but to share.

It shouldn’t have been legal for him to demand more of her. 

She did everything he asked. 

She worked out with him, pushing herself to limits and extents she didn’t even know existed, almost until she barfed, almost until she collapsed, then praising his teaching-methods instead of admitting it was too much. 

She watches his movies, where she would contort the scary imagery of whatever horror or action movie Bakugo would put on the screen into the finest goriest comedy, cough up her lungs at the guts and brains leaking from sliced abdomens or cracked skulls, burry her face in his shoulder as she cried out laughter, instead of jumping into his arms like the scared little lamb she was supposed to be, begging him to turn it off and giving him an opportunity to slide his hand up her shirt. 

She studied with him, again gushing about what an amazing tutor he is instead of being honest by letting him know what an absolutely aggressive jerk he is, saying words she’d regret and have to find a way of apologising for, making it up to him in so many ways Bakugo lusted for, fantasised about when he laid next to her at night. 

She joined him with his friends, let him sleep in her bed, she even ate what and when he told her eat, dressed how he wanted her to dress, changed if he didn’t approve, cheered like his own personal perfect cheerleader at his battles, being probably the loudest person in the bleachers, making all the boys jealous of him, doing everything and more, and still, still it just wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what he needed.

And no, what he needed wasn’t her pussy served on a platter. 

What he needed was leverage. He needed reassurance, he needed her trapped, locked down, glued to him. He needed to know, to believe, to trust that he had her not just for now, but for as long as he wanted, forever. 

And having her in the most primal shameless way, showing her what he could give her, show her that he isn’t just a god on the battlefield but has those same godlike skills when it comes to making her see stars was how he intended to make her need him. 

Granted, he’s never actually made love like how she’d probably want to, but he’s fucked plenty of sluts to have confidence in saying that he knows the female body like the back of his hand. 

If he could just feel her melt beneath him, just make her unravel, wrap her around his pinky, just once and he would know, she wasn’t leaving him anytime soon, she wasn’t ever going to leave him, not unless she wanted her pretty pictures leaked.

Not that he would ever let anyone see her like that, that was just for him, but he doubted she would think too much of what he was willing to do or not. That’s the beauty of threats, they don’t need to be true for the outcome to be fruitful. 

Though, he really wished it didn’t come to that. 

No, once she gets a taste of what it feels like to be taken care of the way he would take care of her, when she wakes up from what fever-dream he’s given her with a mouthful of honey and the newfound realisation that with him is where she belongs, where she’s always belonged, where she’ll always belong.

Or...

Perhaps it was about the sex. 

He had been good, loyal, patient, understanding, boyfriendly. 

She wasn’t the only one making sacrifices. 

It’s unfair of him to hold that against her, and he knows that… most of the time… but no one can blame him for forgetting it when he sees her sitting next to him in that short school-skirt, so in-reach, so grabbable, with his bed taunting them from right behind his back, how easy it would be to just pick her up and throw her down on it, watch her bounce while looking up at him in a giggling fit. 

He can’t be expected to focus on doing algebra with that in his mind, he can’t be expected to tutor her when she looks at him with that apologetically hopeless clueless expression, laughing that nervous laugh that every time warns him about how completely lost she is to what he’s talking about.

Granted, it was him who told her he would be tutoring her, because god and every teacher along with him knew she needed it, what with how she daydreams or pranks each and every class away like the ditzy klutz she is.

“I… I- I don’t know?” Was her answer to yet another equation he’d poured out from between his grit teeth.

Plan A revolved around her wanting to repay the favor, give him a little present for helping her out. Tit for tat, eye for an eye, sort of thing. And usually she would, give him a little something in return, a chaste kiss to his cheek, a frisky make-out session that always ended just a bit too early, never fully what he wanted.

Plan B was to tire her out, creating an opening for him to suggest that they do something that requires less thinking. She usually gets distracted, sometimes she’ll even initiate it in hopes he’d let her off the hook with studying, she’d pout her lips, look at him with those large pretty puppy-dog eyes, coax him into cuddling, but she’d always fall asleep just a minute later.

Plan C was a spin off plan B. Where in hopes of making her the bad guy, he would be sweet, he has been sweet, offering his help to tutor her, she would grow tired like she always does, only this time he wouldn't allow her to rest, therefor causing her to snap, resulting in her saying something she’d regret, again resulting in her apologising, something he could mold into her owing him a favour, something that would end up with having her splayed out on the sheets of his bed, ready for the taking. 

He just needed an opportunity to hold something against her, an excuse, a favor to cash in, he needed her backed up into a corner.

Plan C wasn’t working though, unfortunately.

She never grew fed up with him, she never said anything foul. 

He was stupid to think that an opportunity like that would arise. She isn't like him after all. In fact, she’s the farthest thing from him.

Well, time for plan D then. Another spin off plan B.

Don’t hold it against him, but he’d been spouting bullshit for the last three minutes in hopes of making her frustrate over herself, where the former plan had evolved into something a bit more crucial. 

But, she’s insanely tolerant, reminding him of Kirishima’s sturdy quirk, though he had to admit finding her unfaltering confidence and dedication way more mind-blowingly impressive. 

He had been chipping at that composure of hers for the last two hours without breaching the surface. 

But there was still hope. 

Everyone has a breaking point after all, and he could sense she was getting fed up. Fed up with his tone, fed up of him treating her like a moron, fed up with him. 

It would only take one last blow now and she’d break.

Or so he thought.

He had impressive amounts of patience, but he was also nearing his breaking point and finally after one more of her soft-natured laughs, he was the one that had enough, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

And plan E was looking way more opportune by the minute.

“You think it’s funny that you’re an idiot?”

Her eyes widened and turned instantly glossy at his harsh words, looking like a kicked-puppy, before it contorted into an expression of something akin to anger but not truly as vicious. 

Yet, obviously taking offence, huffing as she got up to leave, proving how she too was done with playing their little fantasy, uncaring, or rather forgetting, that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without his permission.

“I think so too, I think it’s fucking hilarious.” He mocked, hand gripping her shirt and pulling her back between him and the desk. 

Already she was pushing at him, as he leaned in closer gripping her hips and gliding her onto his desk, wanting to feel her thighs and legs cradle around his torso. 

“But, you know what I find even funnier?” 

She opened her mouth to speak, but she was given no room to let her protest out as he raised his voice in warning. 

“What I bet you laugh your ass off at behind my back?!” 

Her annoyance turned ashen, faltering into that meek fearful look he didn’t realise until know that he’d missed. 

“Is how much of an idiot I am.” 

Her brows scrunched, hands placed on the thick stiff muscles of his arms as she felt him start to rub circles into her midriff where his fingers where digging into her soft flesh through her shirt. 

“I’ve been so fucking patient.” It was barely above a whisper, almost sounding broken, like a cry or a plead or an apology, but then his face split into a snarl as he leered at her, teeth flashed at her face making her jump slightly where she sat planted on the desk. “So fucking patient with you that it’s ridiculous.” 

His nose touched hers where she slightly bowed her head. His eyes were blood-shot, or perhaps it was just how they always looked. She wouldn’t know as she made it her unrelenting mission to never look directly at him. 

But now she couldn’t escape his stare, the stare she’d feared so much, pushed tight up against her, so tight she smelled his breath when she inhaled, so tight she felt the thin hairs on her upper lip dance as he huffed out his own growling breaths. 

“And no, I’m not talking about math.”

Her hands had moved to his chest as he hunched further and further over her, pressuring her to lie down on the desk. 

“Please, Baku-” She tried, adding slightly more pressure to her hold on him, but honestly... no amount of her strength would be able to fend him off, especially with the mood he was in.

“No!” He cut her off with a growl, finally forcing her down on her back underneath him, as he palmed the doughy flesh of where her hips connected to her ass, greedy and so very hungry, still keeping a firm hold on her with a thumb hooked on her hip, keeping her in place. “No more please, and I told you it’s fucking Katsuki.” 

She flinched as he spit the correction in her face, feeling something bulging slot and rub itself up against where her skirt had hiked up and exposed her thin panties. 

“No more pleas, no more excuses, no more teasing, no more jokes.” 

He spotted a tear dripping down her cheek, escaping with how hard she was squeezing her eyes shut to avoid his gaze.

She whimpered before she spoke. “I- I’ve do- done every- everything you- you asked.” She blubbered, her hands removed from their insignificant standoff with his chest and shot up to cover her face as she began crying, wiping at them as they fell, pathetic and broken and so pretty his balls hurt with how much he wanted to bury himself inside her no doubt tight cunt.

Desperate now, he bumped his erection into her heat. Trying to steal her focus away from the action by gripping her chin between his rough finger-pads, his lips brushing up her jawline, inhaling her perfume, the scent making another pleasurable shiver spring to his cock, again humping into her. 

“So, what’s one more thing?”

Her heart would have sunk by his words if it weren’t for the building intensity that spiked it to beat faster, hammering in her chest as she felt what she now had no doubt was him pushing into the scared place found between her thighs. 

She could feel her panic bubble up where she was pushed against the cold wooden desk, with her boyfriend’s unwanted heat radiated and seeping through her clothes to tickle her skin. 

She didn’t want this. She wasn’t sure if she ever would want this. 

Bakugo had told her so many times that this was something she needed, everyone needed, but as her heart kept pumping so profusely in her chest, as though it were some blaring alarm, she wasn’t at all sure if she liked the way the stubble on his shaved chin scratched as it rode up her neck when he planted soft open-mouthed wet kisses there, she wasn’t sure if she at all wanted his large calloused wandering hands to stroke and tamper with her soft skin as he pulled her shirt out of her skirt to touch and feel up her stomach and squeeze the soft flesh of her tits, and the more and more his threatening clothed cock continued in rubbing desperately against her own teased sex she fell short of understanding just what it was she didn’t want, if it was the intimacy or just him.

Her panic built like bile in her throat, wanting to burst, which it did. 

“I’m not ready- I don’t- can’t we just…” 

He captured her chin between his thumb and index finger, lips coming to shut her up, cut off whatever protesting excuses she was about to splutter out. 

She tried getting her words out, trying ever so timidly to shake from the kiss, yet however which way she tried turning her head, Bakugo simply followed to deepen it, turning more bruisingly passionate by the second.

Her hands were kept unsurely in their delicate touching on his chest, again in her fear of souring the mood she only barely pushed at him to get off, whereas his hands grasped and groped up her thighs, feeling her soft flesh up like dough, squeezing and kneading and just touching her, all of her, despite her small hums of discomforted surprise.

Large encompassing hands took a break from their pioneering and easily pried her smaller ones off his chest, interlocking his fingers with hers and pushing them down to her sides where they wouldn’t get in the way. 

The kiss then turned rough, hungry as he yet again rocked himself into her, a rugged groan escaping from deep within his throat as her struggles met him with her own type of delicious friction, kissing his sensitive bulge with little caution.

He was so sensitive from having to have held back his primal urges for so long, especially after being teased daily by the soft grabbable little mouse he slept next to throughout every night without being allowed to do more than simply hold her, being teased with her ass slotted against his crotch as they spooned. 

If she wasn’t careful with her movement he might just become a pathetic mess and cum in his pants with how pent up he was.

His other hand made to slip under her skirt to feel up the lace of her panties, wanting nothing more but to slip his finger inside her no doubt tight little hole and work her up until she’d be dripping drenching his hand with wetness, wanting to hear those panicked whimpers turn into ones of pleasure instead, but she was making it impossible with all her troublesome wiggling. 

His fingers forgot their quest between her thighs in favor of picking her up and moving her to the bed instead. 

She tried pushing, but it was so weak that he could pretend to not feel it. 

He wouldn’t be stopping unless she flat out screamed at him, and even then, she’d have to be brutally clear or else he’d take it for screams of pleasure.

He made sure the fall was soft, placing her down on her butt first before his hand cusped the back of her head as he pushed her down onto her back with him hovering on top, deep kisses aiding his quest in pressing her and keeping her beneath him.

She jostled under the entrapment of his weight when his digits stroked up over her panties, rubbing and dipping into the warm tender skin found beneath. 

Her hands pushed at him then, only a little, though it should have been enough to get her message across, but as she realized it wouldn’t she turned her head to the side, freeing her lips from his attacking ones and allowing her to speak her protest, or… more whine than speak.

“Katsuki…”

He shushed at her from where he was nuzzling in her neck, seeming almost lovesick like a frenzied pup as he began to lightly hump into the mattress, his teeth nibbling at the thin skin of her throat. 

“Don’t worry… I’ll make you feel good.” It was a drawled-out mumble, but it told her of how he had no intention of stopping.

“But-” She tried, but was quickly made to shut up as her chin was once again captured and dragged to make her look up at him, his lips again pressing into her, seizing all words.

Soon his antagonizing finger hooked under her underwear, rough-textured fingertips quickly making their way to rub over the sensitive lips found at their disposal. 

Her struggles grew then, her chest jutting forward to try and lift him off her, to allow her to speak, but it was as though he was glued to her, his fingers nearly marking their presence into her cheeks as his wet mouth and even wetter tongue continued exploring the insides of her mouth. 

She whimpered at the feel of his fingers pushing through her folds, gliding up and down the slit. Jolting once too violently, Katsuki laid all his weight down onto her, trapping her there completely, quenching the harshness of her struggles and subduing them to what felt like she was trying to meet his desperate humping.

“Trust me.” 

He should have whispered it, he should have tried making it sound less aggressive as he cuddled with the lips of her pussy, sticking one finger inside her warmth, followed by her squealing in surprise against his lips. 

Her fingernails marked their presence into his skin as she held onto his arm, still not allowed to protest, still only barely allowed to breath.

He couldn’t help but growl at the feel of how tight she was, or… at the feel of how unprepared she was. 

She whimpered as it was no doubt uncomfortable being skewered onto his thick finger without being at all wet, but he was determined to make that change. 

His thumb pushed into her clit, starting to rub slow carful circles into the hooded and hidden pearl, wanting it to pucker out to meet him. And soon, at the hands of his experienced fingers, and perhaps encouraged by her virginal thrill of having something touch her for the first time, his wishes were met. 

The finger buried inside her began squishing in wetness, allowing him to add another one at the expense of her gasping against him, her hands relenting slightly in their need to push him off, a soft uncertain hum simmering against his lips, making him smirk, gloat and bloom with cocky bliss.

Working her tightness with his digits, coating them in slick, he began curling them, feeling the waves of her tensing and melting beneath him. Parting them, scissoring them inside of her plushie walls, his thumb rubbing tight patterns into her bead.

Encouraged by her struggles subsiding he began pumping the digits in and out, feeling her wetness coat his hand. The actions finally earning him a moan, a sweet trembling breathy moan, one that got right to his head as his grin widened against her lips. 

“You see?” He asked, lips still barely detaching from her, breathing the words into her. “You were just scared…” 

Their eyes locked and he was happy to see her orbs large and glossy yet cotton-flavored and blissful as she looked up at him. 

“You don’t need to be scared with me, just let me do this for you, trust me…” 

He kissed her softly now, no brutality or forcefulness, but lightly and sweetly and tenderly, so much so she almost forgot it was Bakugo. 

“I’ll make you feel good.”

But it was Bakugo. 

It was Bakugo. 

Bakugo who’d forced her into a relationship. 

Bakugo: her self-proclaimed boyfriend, her self-proclaimed roommate, her tutor, her guard-dog, her warden. 

Bakugo, who was now persuading her into giving him her virginity.

She was about to answer, but as though he precepted her growing trepidation he met it all with a sharp hooking of his fingers, making her arch her back up into him, her knees trembling where they were pushed up over his thigh next to his hips. 

“Just relax…”

An open-mouthed uncontrolled moan escaped her then. “Katsuki~” 

She felt her hips buck back into his hand, letting him know that he had her completely wrapped around his finger, just as figuratively as it was literal.

“That’s right…” He spoke softly, maintaining the aura of safety, wanting to keep her exactly like that, all soft and sweet and vulnerable for him. “You just focus on me, babe.” 

He placed a tender kiss to her jaw, contrasted with how he now rubbed vigorously onto her swollen bud, feeling her tremble, quake at his hands. 

He knew he had her right where he wanted her, chasing that high he was giving her, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso, reminding him of his own arousal, but he couldn’t pay himself any mind. 

Right now all he needed to worry about was sealing the deal.

An excited jumpy hitched breath left her lips, precious as it was sweet, chest rising above the bed and pressing against his own in such a soft expression of gratitude, just as her legs squeezed tightly around his waist, keeping him close, pussy clenching around his fingers so tight he could only dream of what it would feel like wrapped around his cock, as her eyelids started to flutter, squishing to a close, but not before he saw her eyes cross, reaching towards the light, a light he ignited for her.

She was left a panting mess, her walls fluttering around his digits, happily sucking on them as she spilled.

But she wasn’t left blissed out for long as she hurriedly scurried back to herself, hands covering her face as she hung her head in embarrassment, feeling that dreadful feeling wash over her, that draining shame feeling like death’s embrace. 

“I’m sorry.” She squealed, words muffled beneath the cover of her hands.

His brows scrunched as he perceived her, trying to spot her face from beneath what shield she’d made with her hands.

“I- I made a mess…” 

It sounded as though she were about to cry, so ashamed her body began to shake, her thighs pressed together, hiding where she cocooned herself in the bed in front of him.

His hand trailed soft fingers up her forearm to wrap around her wrist, gently prying her hand away from her face. 

He sighed, heart clenching at the sight of her glossy shameful eyes. 

“You’re so fucking adorable…” 

There was a slight chuckle attached to the statement, his lips kissing her temple before they brushed against the shell of her ear. 

“Why don’t you make a mess on my tongue next?”

The question left her shell-choked, her lip quivering at the promise of his mouth kissing her down there in the same manor he kissed her lips: brutally, passionately, with teeth. 

“M-Mn-No…” She spoke bashfully, still anxious.

Too cute for her own good.

His hand, the one soaked with her essence, ascended to his face, his fingers disappearing into his mouth, lips enclosing around them as he sucked the juices clean off, giving a groan at her taste as well as her shocked but curious expression, smirking once he let his finger go with a kiss.

His hands moved front and centre, beginning to tamper with the buttons to her uniform. 

“You’re safe with me.” He repeated, knowing it was something she needed to hear, especially as he began opening button after button, revealing her precious pearly-white bralette, where under was found glory in the shape of soft warm pillows. “Trust me.” 

He shoved her shirt off her shoulders, bringing it out of her reach, not allowing her the freedom of covering herself if she were to change her mind and snatch it back from his hands. 

She hummed in unease as though to ask if he had to go any further, to which he answered by kissing her forehead, a gesture that made a shiver run up her spine, unsure if it was of pleasure or something more eerie. 

His finger running, dancing around to her back, tickling the skin where her bra was held together. 

He felt her tense up, but ignored it and continued in his quest, pinching the clasp and taking hold of the straps to pull the annoying thing off, leaving her bare and beautiful.

Taking a second to admire her as her nipples perked at once at the hands of her embarrassment, he held back the urge to pinch, forcing himself to be soft, soft and sweet and safe, something he needed to remind himself of. 

Hands moving carefully to hold one of the mounds, a careful squeeze followed by a careful rub of the nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Lay back down.” His voice was so warm, so warm it left her perplexed, unable to tell that the words shaped a demand as he placed one large hot hand in the space between her breasts, adding slight pressure to ease her back down into the bed, all the while her curious yet terror-wide watery eyes looked up at him, falling prey to his dominant crimson ones. 

His head followed hers, lips pressing one soft kiss to her wet ones.

There is something about being bare in front of someone fully dressed. Something so dominating, something so frightening. But, surely the fact that he looked at her as though she were the world made everything safer, surely it evened the scales, surely… she wasn’t completely powerless.

“Let me prove just how much I love you.”

He could feel how terribly fast her heart was beating as he kissed down her neck, over her collar bone, careful to not bite too harshly, giving into simply nibbling or grazing his teeth, fighting the urge to mark her up so prettily. 

Mouth moving to suck at the exposed sensitive skin of her tits, forgetting himself as he made to grind the protruding nib between his teeth, being met with a squeal from the girl beneath him, her hands instinctively pushing at his shoulders. 

But again, her racing heartbeat and impulsive struggles were subdued, Bakugo making to squeeze her cheeks between his fingers, squishing her plump bloated reddened lips together, whispering upon them as he leaned in close. 

“Don’t worry, babe, you know I won’t hurt you.” 

She nodded, but still he felt her shiver, heard the tremor in her breathing, the soft sniffles she couldn’t keep at bay, just as pathetic as they were adorable and mouthwatering for him to hear.

Once he reassured himself she wasn’t about to roll out of bed and stagger towards the bathroom, running like a spooked hare, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth before peppering a dozen more down her neck, over the nipples he’d played with, going further down and lower and lower until he was all the way down to kissing the space found just beneath her bellybutton, his ears shifting to listen to how the bed creaked upon her shuffling, yet those anxious movements where seized when his hefty arms wrapped beneath her thighs, pulling her all snug and personal, lining her up perfectly with his face, all for him to see what gorgeous mess he’d made of her, all glistening and blushed with arousal. 

He couldn’t wait any longer to give her a taste, feel her melt on his tongue, hear her moan as he buried his face into her.

He flicked a light kitty-lick over her budding clit, felt her quake in his arms, looking up yet still down at her where he couldn’t quite place what emotion terrorised her face the most, whether it was mostly anxiety, discomfort, shame, embarrassment or pleasure. 

It didn’t discourage him though as he made the same movement again, only now twirling his warm textured tongue around the pearl, swirling around it, circling it like a shark, before his entire mouth enclosed it, devoured it, sucked on it, his tongue placed flat on top of it as he dragged it over the sensitivity again and again, sucking fervently, feeling her panic at the intrusive pleasure, yet being held steady in his arms with no way of getting away.

He let up, letting go with a wet pop before running his tongue deeply down the slit, plunging into her weeping hole where it wormed its way inside. 

She wiggled as his nose bumped into her ravaged clit, all sensitive with tender swelling.

She was all shaky breaths, no sound too loud, no sound too brazen or wanton. 

He needed to change that. 

He planned to go slow, but had wanted it to be a surprise, and so, instead of lightly grazing his teeth over the silken bud he gave into biting down on it, gnawing it lightly between the rows of his teeth.

She shrieked, hands pushed with force against his head to get him off as she climbed higher up on the bed, away from him, yet the movement was soon stilled, or rather reversed with the strength of Bakugo’s arms coiled around her thighs, dragging her back to meet his hungry mouth. 

“Don’t move.” 

Carmine eyes stared up at her from down in between herself, and she felt her knees go weak as they shook at the terrifying growl that accompanied his threat. 

“Just… trust me.” 

She didn’t. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared his marred and mauled hands, those scars running up over the great juicy muscles of his arms, those deadly arms themselves, capable of both withstanding and giving destruction, proof that he can and has survived far greater than what she could ever hope, proof that she was no match, no equal. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared how his thumb now rubbed over her clit, creating such godsend friction that had her unraveling, melting into his mouth, and that mouth itself, that tongue, those teeth, how they devoured her for everything she was worth. 

She didn’t trust him, but she found... falling suited her, and chasing the fires had unknowingly become a feeling she rather cherished than feared, a little less like dying, and more like... coming home.

By the time she came to, reeled back into reality, yet still remaining far away, succumbed by bliss, her eyes were opium-blown as she blinked dumbly, not realizing how Bakugo had placed himself on her side, eyes full of awe as he watched her, leg tangled with legs, heart to heart, hand held lazily on her hip, drawing small patterns up and down her side, watching her flushed face drowse into the pillow until those pretty chaste eyes met his again.

His boxers were sticky. 

She’d been too busy, too distracted with the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth abusing what found between her legs to notice how he’d been humping the mattress while eating her out as though he were starved and crazed and feral with lust. And even though she felt him groan and growl, the reverberations that tremored at the roughness of his gruff timber was enough to make her eyes cross and forget, even forgive them from ever happening.

“How about making a mess on my cock next time?” 

His hand stroked her cheek after pulling the covers up to drape her naked body that now had begun to shiver in the crash of coming down. The thoughtful action a stark contrast to his cocky suggestive tone, eyes glinting wickedly at the little lamb he’d lured into and onto his wolf fangs, still tasting her essence on his tongue, watching as those skittish brows erupted into that beautiful panic that somehow resembled hope as she looked at him wide-eyed, smitten with plead and all things soft. 

“I’m joking…” 

He gave a smile, soft but in a different way, admiring what was his. 

“Or, not really… but whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.” 

The thumb stroked over her cheek once again, before his lips pressed a long firm kiss to her forehead, hinting for her to nuzzle into his neck, where his smell had become like ritual, something she wasn’t meant to go on without for too long.

She thought she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for any of this. What makes the next step any different? Still, with the defeatist thought, she did like the defeatist she was, timid hands coming to hold onto Bakugo’s fire-hot skin, slotting herself tight against his body. 

She didn’t trust him, but she trusted his love, she trusted his lust, she trusted he would never let her go, and that perhaps those arms of his weren’t too bad. Perhaps if she thought of how safe she was she could more or less forget or rather forgive that they were there to keep her trapped, perhaps if she spent enough time believing she was kept safe by him, then she’d forget all the reason as to why being trapped with him was the farthest thing from safe.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

[hiyaluronic]

Anywhere Away from Here

A TOG x MCU xover that came from the blurb about Nicky and Joe coming across a beat up Peter Parker.

He knew it was stupid to think he’d ever be able to truly vanish from the public eye.

His Aunt and Happy would never let him completely disappear. He knew they would constantly be on the search for any sign of his continued existence; that’d he’d never be able to stop moving until he found a way to clear his name. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t take the chance that the fallout of his mistakes would lead back to those he cared for.

This was his weight to carry and he wouldn’t pass it off onto anyone else.

The whole mess was his responsibility.

Wasn’t it?

It had to be.

None of this would have happened if he’d just had more faith in himself and never handed those stupid glasses over to Myster- no, Beck. If he’d just believed in Mr. Stark’s last wishes and never handed over the glasses to Quinton Beck. 

Peter sniffled and blinked against the blur of tears to try and clear his vision, his hands tightening on his webs as he swung across Manhattan; the low rise apartment buildings and the old fashioned homes passed by below him in a mishmash of color so quickly that he had to focus on the building his webs were attached to or risk slipping when his stomach rebelled at the motion.

He normally loved the rush that came with basically flying across the New York skyline - the blur of the cityscape passing by him was thrill like no other - but in his current state his enjoyment was dampened by the continued chills of his spider sense. The constant low thrum of static keeping his nerves on edge and the irrational feeling that everyone was out to get him settling like an annoying pit in his stomach - left to sour and rot, making him nauseous.

Peter shot another web out and swung, his mind working to assess each new corner he turned afraid that an enemy could be lying in wait anytime he allowed his body a chance to rest. He couldn’t help the fearful feeling when he looked down any darkened street, the muddied shadows stretching out like tendrils ready to pull him in and never let go. 

He had to keep moving. 

Even though it felt like his body was strung tight, his muscles aching to the point he wasn’t sure he could remember what it felt like to relax; but he had to be on alert, aware of his surroundings all the time, ready for the next attack. Even as a haze seeped into his mind, muddling his thoughts and distorting reality with each heavy blink.

It was exhausting. 

And he was just so damned tired. 

Peter cleared the lump he felt forming in his throat and shot another web out to swing down to the inner workings of Hell’s Kitchen. The sound of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance and reminded him he needed to seek shelter soon - the Feds had ransacked his last safe house - while the grumbling of his stomach begged for attention as well. He couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d eaten enough to satisfy his enhanced metabolism. 

Peter grabbed at the webbing and swung forward only to realize his web had ended short and missed the connection point on the building across the way.

With a stuttering breath, Peter tried to right the floundering downward spiral of flips and spins he found himself in but couldn’t seem to find purchase on any given surface. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the sick feeling that was surging up his esophagus - his head screaming, or maybe that was him? - from the continuous change in position. Peter fumbled for the release of his wingsuit to help give him some sort of lift in the updraft of air but slammed into the side of a building, his head ringing from the impact and one of his lenses cracking from the blunt force, the HUD of his suit going dark and leaving him blind as he continued to fall. 

Peter cursed and ripped his mask off, blinking against the harsh burn of the early-winter wind and found himself gasping when the rush of air made it hard to breath - a fiery ache settling like kindling in his lungs and burning up his airway.

A rough cough tore through him when he slammed into another window, his head cracking against the smooth glass and sending shockwaves of undulating pain down his neck. Between one blink and the next Peter fell into a tailspin, he tried to twist his body, tried to grasp the balcony that was passing by quickly only to end up screaming when the weight of his body pulled at his shoulder. A scream ripped from him when his shoulder tore from its socket, his fingers slipping useless from the railing, arm worthless and numb. 

The next balcony clipped his temple and sent the world spiraling into a gritty static and by the time an empty car parked in some dingy back alley came upon him to break his fall he was lost to the waking world, the screech of a car alarm following him down into darkness.

o~Oo~O~oO~o

“Nile sent me a picture of the world’s largest ball of yarn. She says Quynh is making plans to steal it and Andy is a grumpy grandma who doesn’t get the appeal.”

Nicky looked up from his book, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at Joe’s dishevelled hair and sleep rumpled pajama bottoms hanging loosely about his hips, abs on full display. Nicky cleared his throat, “Quynh always liked grand displays and Andy is, well, Andy. Though I’m glad to hear Nile is enjoying herself.”

Joe smirked and ran a hand over his curls while shuffling further into the kitchen, headed towards the coffee pot, “And how about us, my life? What should we do to entertain ourselves today?”

“There is a new exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. I thought we could be tourists today, if you wish?”

The coffee smelled amazing as Joe poured himself a cup, eyes peering through their kitchen window, the rays of the early morning hidden behind the gray of the coming winter storm. He shivered at the imagined chill of the cityscape outside, the frost framing the window adding to the perceived chill of outside. “Perhaps, or we could…”

The sound of shattering glass and the crunch of steel from outside their window stole the rest of Joe’s words with a flinch when the car parked outside their residence crumpled from the blunt force of some unknown object.

“What in the…” Joe set his coffee cup down and headed towards the door, Nicky right behind him. 

The early morning air, crisp with the chill of winter, stole Joe’s breath from him, his toes curling against the frigid pavement of their street, arms rubbing his bare arms as he made his way forward. Nicky by-passed him - having stopped to slip shoes on - and made his way to the car, the garbled shout of someone in the distance lost over the loud and distorted chirping of the car alarm. 

“Nicky?” The rigidness of Ncky’s shoulders had him on edge. “What is it?”

Wide eyes turned to stare at him, his heart falling to his feet when Nicky shook his head at him, a sick feeling roiling through him when Nicky quietly said, “It’s a child.”

He had to ask, even though he knew the answer to the question before it left the safety of his lips, he had to hear it. “Alive?”

Joe watched Nicky lean over crumbled metal and shattered glass to reach for a pulse point, Nicky’s eyes fluttering shut and forehead wrinkling in concentration, his love’s lips moving in quiet prayer.

A beat passed, then two, three - the seconds seemingly stretched on for an eternity - time slowing and allowing a tiny spark of hope to ignite within him before Nicky’s eyes opened once more with a gentle shake of his head. 

Joe sighed and turned to head back into the apartment to call the authorities, disheartened with the knowledge that an innocent had been taken from this world. His hand had barely touched the door handle when a shout from Nicky had him turning. His gaze fell to the wide eyes of Nicky, whose arms were wrapped around the gasping and gurgling form of some tiny wisp of a kid.

Joe gaped, mind reeling at the knowledge that this kid should be dead, and yet… “Bring him inside quickly, Nico.”

Joe winced at the anguished cry the kid made when Nicky hefted the smaller form up and out of the wreckage of the vehicle. 

Joe held the door open while Nicky maneuvered through the narrowed door of their apartment, his mind trying to understand how the child was still alive. The only answer was one that did not sit well within his soul. Surely the gods above would not be so cruel as to bestow immortality to someone so young?

[nuttyrabbit]

Business As Usual

Well, y’all convinced me, so I’m gonna start posting some of my drabbles here, starting with this one.  Everything’s under the readmore, hope you all enjoy my really dumb, edgy story!

Business as Usual

      The sharply dressed weasel stood outside a rather run down house. The foundation seemed to be falling apart, the front yard devoid of any life, covered in filth and grime. There was a pungent smell in the air, one that the weasel was all too used to in this line of work. The front of the house was made of old wood, it looked like it was held together with tape and a prayer.  It was a long way from his usual area of operation, but since this was gonna pay better than his usual fare, he supposed he had no choice. It'd been a while since the last good job, and talkin' to the guy that called it in, he eemed desparate, almost like he had a gun to his head or somethin',  like he was scared of somethin' getting out.   He'd been told it was a simple operation: bust in there, cap the poor bastard and whoever was with em, and get out, and leave nothing behind.  Guy gave no reason, people like this never gave reasons, not that he minded, it was all the same shit to him anyways.

The  mustelid made his way to the entrance of the decrepit house, his right hand sliding down to his holster, taking hold of the gun inside.  It was almost instinctual  to the weasel at this point, something you always did when goin anywhere.  There was always that chance of someone bein' somewhere, whether it be a rundown shithole like this, a fancy schmancy hotel, even the bathroom, there's always that chance of someone tryin' ta get the jump on you. He took a deep breath, but before he could kick down the door, he swore he could hear voices. He unholstered his gun and held his ear to the door.

"They're comin' fer me, they're fucking comin fer me" A man's voice. A very meek one at that, probably the one he was meant to come take care of.  He got ready to break the door down until...

"Monty for god's sake relax! Nobody's going to find us out here. We're in the middle of nowhere in a run down shack. Nobody would look here! We just have to lay low until we can set up that meeting. Then we'll get protection and we won't have to worry."  Another voice suddenly rang out, seemingly attempting to soothe the terrified man. 

...A woman's voice. Probably the guy’s wife if the weasel was a betting man, which granted, he was.  Gambit raised an eyebrow  "This is gonna be interestin'" the weasel muttered to himself.  No point in waitin’ anymore

With that, he kicked the decrepit door open, aiming the gun straight ahead, eyes shining red. He was greeted with the sight of a very panicked rat who was half dressed in tattered rags, looking like he just escaped from hell itself. The doomed rat quickly fumbled for his gun, and  the man’s wife,  who looked to be some kinda rodent,  quickly bolted  for the kitchen. Not taking any chances, Gambit instantly  fired upon the rat, the  revolver’s bullet hitting him directly in the chest, making him stumble back towards the table, falling limp practically instantly, his eyes wide open in terror.

The weasel closed in on him, trying to make  sure he was dead, when the woman  burst from the kitchen, lunging at him with a knife. "YOU BASTARD!" she stabbed the air, Gambit having effortlessly dodged the very telegraphed strike. Without missing a beat, Gambit  responded quickly ,grabbing her and pressing the revolver to her stomach, firing straight through her.  What he could now solidly identify as a guinea pig quickly fell to the floor, dropping the knife and clutching her stomach with both hands, barely holding herself up on her knees.

She looked up at him with brilliant emerald eyes that seemed to plead with him, begging him to spare her with a single glance. On anyone with a soul, it would have worked. She barely sputtered out a "W-why..?" , coughing up a rather vile looking pool of blood, her soft voice only exacerbating the horror in her voice.

The weasel's face, before nearly impossible to read, now bore a smirk.  He pressed the gun to her forehead and began to speak : "Ain't nothin' personal, just business."  He cocked the revolver, pressing it to the woman’s temples, then fired. The woman's brain matter ejected out the back of her head and she fell backwards onto the floor, her head staring towards the ceiling, her eyes wide in shock and fear, just like her husband’s,  an image the weasel had seen too many times. Had no real effect on him anymore.  In fact, he can’t recall a time it ever really did.

He quietly holsterd his gun, his eyes dimming,  then took out a phone in his pocket, checking the time and taking pictures of his “work”.  It was a very basic phone, the kinda thing from 10 years old. Did what it had to do, took calls, took photos, not much else.  He needed proof after all, nobody trusts anyone's word around here.  Leaning against the wall, he took out his favorite lighter and a pack of cigarettes he snagged on the way here. Putting one in his mouth, he lit it, before taking it out of his mouth to exhale.  It was a sort of tradition for him, helped take the edge off after this kinda thing. He put it back in his mouth, staring at the ceiling, figuring that it was about time to leave anyways.

He began to walk towards the door when he heard....crying? It seemed to be coming from another room. Quickly taking out his gun again, his eyes resuming their brilliant shine, he walked left from the main room, opening the door on the right, and there he found something he didn't expect. A kid's room. It wasn't that well decorated, but he could tell cause of the stuffed animals on the bed and the action figure on the poor excuse for a dresser.  The crying continued, but quieter. Poor kid was trying to hide himself.  He made his way towards the closet, throwing it open. In the dark closet, behind some shirts, there he was. A small child, couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old from the look of it who looked like his father, staring up at the weasel, seemingly paralyzed in fear. How could he not? The weasel was covered in blood, eyes shining brilliantly, and a gun in his hand.  Gambit, after a moment, pointed his revolver at the child's head. He briefly chuckled, his lips turning upwards in a wry smirk

Sorry kiddo, this ain't yer lucky day"

Then he fired. The child fell back onto the floor of his closet looking like his mother did ironically. Eyes wide open in a look of sheer terror, smatterings of tears on his face. To anyone else, the sight would be horrifying, even traumatizing.   The weasel holstered his gun and closed the closet door before walking away.  Making his way back into the kitchen, he opened the fridge,  taking out a can of cheap beer. He opened it with a chzzz and quickly chugged it before throwing the can onto the floor.  Ransacking the drawers, he soon found a case of matches.  Holding it, he made his way back towards the entrance, but not before bending down onto the floor and striking a match against it. The match quickly lit up, a small flame emanating from the surface. Gambit looked at the match, then at the carnage that  had befallen  the house at his hands , before tossing the match onto the floor and  casually walking out of the house and onto the sidewalk outside.

Once he was on the sidewalk, he turned back to look at the house. A fire began to spread throughout the house  the bodies becoming quickly engulfed in flame and soon, the entire house had  become devoured by the fire. Taking out his phone one last time, the weasel took a picture of the raging inferno, before pocketing it again. He exhaled the smoke from this cigarette one last time before tossing it onto the lawn and walking away, not even attempting to look back again or spare a second thought about the people who were just brutally murdered or why.

After all, at the end of the day, it was just another job.

[fierysafrina]

Growing Pains

Fandom: Kuroko no Basket

Pairing: Nash Gold Jr. x f!OC (Tianela)

Summary: He was always her hero.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Romance

Notes: I felt a bit angsty and I needed to write something so yeah, Nash was that guinea pig once more. Mentions of blood, cursing and a bit gore description on moments, but nothing major.

It started with a cough.

She stood beside him, her smile visible as he talked with his friends and teammates, ignoring the pain in her chest that slowly became unbearable. Her shortness of breath never passed through her thoughts, taking it in a way that she didn’t have much stamina anymore, growing older and lazier. He often joked about they need to pace up things behind the doors and as much as he stayed true to his word, he always found a new way to spice it up.

She laid in bed, her dark eyes observing his expression that seemed so peaceful like a child’s innocence while he was sleeping. It were these rare moments that she loved; showing the emotions he never showed to anyone and expression that seemed so unfamiliar even to him. But she accepted him as a whole, as a breaking man, whose cracks grew bigger and as an innocent child that could never really grow up into a man.

Rising her hand, she traced her finger down his cheek, his soft and warm skin tingling her, her lips turning up in a gentle smile. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips on his temple, trailing kisses down on his cheek and nose and over his lips that turned up in a grin. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her over so she cradled him under, her brown hair tickling his skin.

It continued with weight loss.

“You lost your weight from the last time I saw you.” Her mother kissed her on the forehead, her eyebrows furrowed together as she pulled away and looked at her daughter in worry. “Are you alright?” she asked, caressing her cheek gently.

“I’m fine, mom.” She smiled, but dark circles under her eyes and pale cheeks barely convinced her. “You know Nash wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.” It was a lie, they both knew, but it was also the truth.

“Speaking of Nash, where is your boyfriend?” Her mother asked and looked around the apartment she shared with him. “I met with his mother before I came and she asked me to deliver some food and dessert for you both.” she said and put a bag on the table, taking out small boxes.

“Oh, he has practice game in the evening with a team from Washington, so they’re training till then.” Walking to her side, she helped putting boxes on the counter and in the refrigerator before they sat on the chairs and talked while drinking coffee and eating cookies that she baked in the morning. She was smiling brightly, like she wasn’t tired; like she didn’t have any problems; like she wasn’t sick.

Standing in the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection in confusion and disgust. She has never been so skinny to the point of her ribs almost showing, of thigh gap between her thighs that a whole arm in thickness could pass through. It made her sick.

The need to cough woke her from her thoughts of her body and she put hand over her mouth only to frown when something warm and drippy made her look at it. Her face turned paler than it already was, her eyes wide and she stumbled towards the sink, cleaning the blood away. She continued to rub her hands together with soap over and over again, unknown that her eyes welled up and tears started streaming down her cheeks.

Her visit in the hospital didn’t go well. From surprise and shock, she couldn’t respond to Nash when he asked her where she was. All she could was burst out crying as she clang on his shirt, apologizing like a little child that was caught stealing or taking what he shouldn’t take from his parents.

“You should tell him.” Nick looked at her with sadness in his eyes as he stood by her bed. “He’s drinkin’ more than he’s used to…” he didn’t need to spoke the rest, knowing she wouldn’t take it well.

“He thinks I cheated on him.” Her voice was silent as she stared through window at the sun that was slowly setting behind the buildings of Los Angeles. “It’s better this way then seeing him leaving either way…” she closed her eyes and looked at Nick, who begged her with his gaze that never wavered. “Don’t look at me like that Nick. I don’t have much time left…” Her voice was even quieter.

“Don’t shut him away.” His voice was soft. “You need him and he needs you. Call him…”

“I’ve made up my mind.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes like it used to. “Take care of him for me.” And that was the cue for him to leave.

Nick looked to the ground, his hands slowly turning into fists, knuckles white from the tight grip. “Don’t regret it later.” Was everything he said and walked away, leaving her alone. Looking back through window, her smile faded away and all that remained was the shadow that grew darker with each day.

She stared at his name displayed on her phone, a photo of her hugging him from behind, smiling from ear to ear as he showed his usual scowl. She remembered that day clearly, knowing full well he hated taking photos of them together, but there were moments where he agreed and let her. A small smile spread over her lips, knowing she always received a ‘punishment’ for taking photos without his knowledge, but it disappeared when her call went to voicemail.

She put phone on her ear and took a deep breath. “Nash…” She breathed out his name, but it was followed with a cough. Quickly taking a tissue that was on her night-table, she coughed, but cringed when scent of blood hit her senses. It made her sick, yet in such short time she grew to ignore it whenever she coughed it up.

“Sorry…” she whispered and closed her eyes. “I don’t know if you’re there or not, but…there’s something I must tell you.” Her voice was quiet, but louder than a whisper. “I made you think I cheated on you, acting like I was caught by Nick, which was the reason why we argued at that time. It fell so perfectly that I just came up with that lie and I know you don’t believe me anymore, but it’s not true. I never cheated on you, less alone thought of it.” she bit her lower lip, afraid to start crying.

“I…” she continued, her voice cracking. “I-I don’t have much time left. They said a month, or two the most and I’m scared…” she closed her eyes, tightly gripping on the covers. “I can’t bear to leave without telling you what’s going on and without explaining. I’m so sorry for letting you think that I cheated on you for months, but I really didn’t. I’m so sorry you had to go through that pain all because of me. It’s okay if you won’t forgive me, I understand…” She took few breaths to calm herself. “You were always, and still are, the hero of my story and the love of my life. Don’t even forget that…”

Apology after apology were whispered until she hanged up and curled up in a ball on the bed, ignoring the pain in her chest as she silently cried. She didn’t care for anything anymore. What she wanted to do, she did and now all she waited was for the time to come.

Sweat dripped down his neck and disappeared under his plane T-shirt as he swung his arm in right cross before it was followed by a jab, his frustration growing when an image of her long brown hair appeared in front of him. She was smiling at him, her eyes closed as she leaned to the side, chuckling and saying something. A curse left his lips as he went for another jab before holding the punching bag.

“Nash,” Jason called from behind. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’ve never been better.” Nash gritted his teeth, Nick narrowing his eyebrows.

“Did she tell you?” The brunet went straight to the point, Nash missing the punching bag.

“You,” He turned to Nick, his blue eyes glaring at him. “Why didn’t you say anythin’?” he spit like demon itself was in him.

“It was her decision to tell you or not. I only persuaded her.” He responded calmly as Nash continued to curse. “Did you want to hear ‘bout it after she was six feet under? You would hate and despise her more than you did.”

“What makes you think I still don’t?” He snapped.

“You’re in a gym, training. If she didn’t tell you, you would be screwing around with women like you did till few days ago.” Nick didn’t waver one bit when he sent him a look, to keep his mouth shut. “Meet with her.” he said, his expression serious.

“Fuck no,” Nash cursed. “She decided to play this game. I’m following her rules.” he said and turned around.

“You’re such an arrogant asshole.” Nick raised his voice, gaining attention from the rest of the team, but neither wanted to meddle between, especially when Nash was close to losing it. “Are you really waitin’ for the last minute or for a fucking miracle? Before you know it she’ll be gone and then you’ll get back on pityin’ your sorry ass how you couldn’t see her one more time!”

“Don’t push it, Nick.” Nash gritted his teeth, pointing a finger at him in a threat.

“Oh, so now we are playing threatening games?” Nick scoffed. “Well go ahead,” he raised his hands in the air. “I’m done with you and your little games. I would rather be anywhere else than in the same room with you.”

“Then go!”

“And I thought you were better. Fuck you, Nash.” Nick cursed and grabbed his bag before leaving the gym. Everyone quietly stared at their captain as he turned to the punching bag and with all power he could manage went for a roundhouse kick, sending the bag off the hook.

Leaning on the wall in front of himself, his eyes were closed as water streamed down on his head and back. His lips turned up in a smile when he saw her face in front of him, pouting when he said he didn’t want to go to cinema and watch her favourite movie of the trilogy. He loved seeing those silly expressions on her face, knowing that he was the one that made her feel that way. He loved it even more when she was writhing under him, begging and moaning every time, calling his name like it was meant to slip off her tongue like a prayer. She always made him feel what he never did or forgotten and he always yearned for more.

He cursed quietly as he stood in front of closed doors, nurses giving him side glances. He knew he had a bad reputation even among hospitals and he couldn’t be annoyed even more that she was in a hospital where most of his opponents ended up in. Quietly staring in front, he took a deep breath before he held for the doorknob and opened the doors.

He walked, his eyes immediately falling on her body that was covered with a blanket, her back facing him. He could see from afar she lost weight and seeing her curled up, he wondered just how much has she changed.

“I don’t want to talk about Nash anymore, Nick…” Her voice was hoarse as he closed the doors.

“The last time I checked, I was still Nash.” He spoke rather quietly. Not missing the flinch and the way she covered herself more, he approached her slowly.

Before he could see her face, she spoke: “Don’t come closer…” almost begging.

“Why not?” he asked, like it was ridiculous of her to say that.

“I look hideous…” She whispered as she gripped the cover tighter, her knuckles turning white.

“I’ve seen worse,” He wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. Reaching out for her hand, he held it gently before he slowly turned her his way. His eyes lingered on her pale and skinny hand. “I thought you would have your nails painted…” he murmured and raised his gaze, meeting with her dark eyes he missed.

“They don’t allow,” she answered and averted her gaze away from his. She couldn’t bear to see his blue eyes that were searching for something. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. What was he doing in hospital? He looked at her hand that he still held and saw a ring he bought almost a year ago as an anniversary gift. It was unusual of him, out of character, but the moment he saw that ring, he could see it on her finger and it looked perfect. It still did. “You’re still wearing it…” he murmured to himself and smiled before looking back at her. “I came to visit you.”

“Why?” Her voice cracked, eyes tearing up, still afraid to meet his eyes.

With his other free hand, he held her chin and turned her face his way, his smile present like it never left. “I missed you.”

Without being able to control herself she burst into tears, covering her eyes with both hands. Nash’s chest tightened and not wasting a moment, he pulled his arms around her and pulled her in his embrace, against his warm chest. He closed his eyes when he heard her apologies as he responded with soft words of comfort. Feeling her hands clinging on his shirt weakly, he cursed at every god and saint, he knew, for being unable to stay by her side from the beginning and for taking her away.

“I’m sorry…” he spoke, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’m sorry I cut you off like that when you were in so much pain…” His voice shook. “Y-you should have told me… I would call you a liar, but you wouldn’t have to go through this alone…” he tightened his embrace, sudden realization that she is slipping from him forever hitting him in the face like unexpected punch.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice shaking as she tried to control her tears. “I was scared that you would leave nonetheless…”

“You are an idiot…” he laughed bitterly. “I would never leave you.”