#if i popped off with anything it was the slow downwards spiral. i broke this poor kid LOL

[qoldenskies]

this is all just making me think about the way donnie completely deteriorates over the course of CL like comparing earlier scenes with later ones makes it so jarring aurhorrhghh

like ow. ow ow ow ow

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 8

This one is... something. I was supposed to be asleep hours ago. The sun has come up. But it was all more than worth it, and now I am going to pass out.

Based on votes from last time, option B was chosen-- speak to Leader and Hacker. There’s going to be a little flip in allegiances this time around, and some questions will finally be answered! The choose your own adventure aspect is going to be a bit different too, this time around, but more detail about that at the end.

For now, I hope you enjoy!

CW//Drugged whumpee, confusion, nightmares, past trauma, murder, strangled to death, minor body horror (shapeshifting)

The wave of cool water felt heavenly as it washed over Villain’s throat. Even as the movement exhausted them, they drank every drop as if it would be their last, and, when the last drop was at last reached, they whined.

“There you go.”

The voice felt closer, this time, coming from behind only one layer of fog rather than a thousand. It was close, just like the warm hand, wrapped around their shoulders, keeping them upright.

Everything was so warm...

“Hero... Hero warm...”

A slight chuckle replied to that, the hand on their back gently rubbing between their shoulder blades. Making them feel like they had blood, like there was something inside them other than dry ice.

They had been so cold, just a moment ago, mind spiraling with something... something bad. What had it been? Had it been anything at all?

Did it matter, now that Hero was here?

“Yeah. Hero warm. Are you warm enough?”

“Mhm.” They purred. The silk webbing wrapping around them, that which had once been uncomfortable, restraining, now felt so soft. They could sink into it forever...

“Do you need anything?”

“Tired.”

“You want to go back to bed?”

“Yeah. Hero stay...”

“Yeah. Yeah, Hero stay.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Hero.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Villain.”

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The warm body in Hero’s arms, hardly recognizable beneath layers of fleece and fabrics, took only a moment to turn heavy and limp, breathing slowly until it was only shown by the slow rise and fall of their chest.

Even as exhaustion tugged at their own limbs, even as they wanted more than anything to curl up in those blankets themself, they knew they couldn’t. Hero couldn’t stay.

As gently as they could manage, given Villain’s limp weight, they laid their ward down on their side. The unconscious person murmured and twitched as the blankets were readjusted, but did not stir.

Villain was comfortable. Villain was safe. That was what mattered. Even though...

Hero took their phone from their pocket, flinching at the blazing screen light.

Seven in the morning. They had hoped to be able to claim a few hours of rest alongside Villain, but their own worry had made that impossible. Now, it was already morning.

Hell, they were supposed to be eating with their team by six thirty. Yet, no one had knocked to awake them, yet.

Hero hauled themself to their feet, limbs aching and joints popping all the way. They hardly registered the chill beneath their feet as they made their way to the door.

Only for it to nearly slam into them. They leapt backwards, barely catching themself.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Leader’s wide eyes showed that they had been expecting Hero just as much as they had been expecting them. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you didn’t hit me.”

“Good.” Their gaze cast downwards, to the item carried in their arms-- a platter of food. Fortunately, none had fallen.

“Is that for Villain?”

“No, dimwit. I don’t think they could get anything down if you forced it down their throat. This is for you.”

“Oh.”

“When is the last time you ate?”

“Um...”

“Lunch yesterday, got it.”

“It’s... Isn’t everyone else already eating?”

“They’re already done. I told them you needed your rest. Thought you’d prefer eating in here.”

Hero shook their head, pointing back at the snoring pile of blankets.

“Can’t wake them up.”

“Oh.”

“I can just, um, eat out there.”

“No, you’re going to-” Leader bit their tongue, reformulating their sentence. “Um, how about you come and eat with me in my office? I haven’t eaten yet, either.”

Hero was in no way used to such a delicately formatted request.

“Sure.”

“Alright.” Leader nodded, handing over the platter, which they gratefully took. The two moved out of the room-- the former taking surprising care to close the door gently, so as to not make any noise.

The common room was deserted, thank the heavens. There were no distractions as they moved to Leader’s office. The chairs still hadn’t moved since their discussion last night. Hero sat.

“So...” Leader maneuvered around their side of their desk, seating themself. “How did you sleep?”

“Didn’t.”

“Not at all?”

“Maybe a bit. I’m not sure. Villain woke up and...” They trailed off.

“And?”

Leader had no need to know of Villain’s words.

“I had to get them back to sleep. They drank some water, too.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Hero perked their ears, hearing a noise beyond the office door. ���I’m surprised that they’re leaving us alone.”

“I told them to.” Leader speared a chunk of scrambled eggs with a fork, raising it to their lips.

The events of last night came flooding back.

“What did you tell them? What did you tell everyone? I thought they’d have been all over me once they knew I came back. They do know, right?”

“They certainly wanted to bother you.” Leader swallowed the chunk of egg. “I didn’t let them.”

“So they do know?”

“Kinda.” They straightened themself, playing with the food upon their plate momentarily. “I told them that I came back last night, and found you here. As far as they know, you escaped on your own, and Villain’s whereabouts are unknown.”

“And they believed you?”

“I think they were just glad to know that you were okay. And, y’know, not dead. You’re probably going to get hounded with questions later, but, for now, I made it very clear that you’re to be left alone.”

“Thank you.” Hero spoke half-breathlessly.

“It’s not a problem. You’re officially relieved of mission duty until you’ve recovered.”

“R-Really?”

“You need to rest. Even if you aren’t injured, you’re exhausted.”

“Yeah...”

“So, until you’re feeling better, let me handle that.” They took another bite, making Hero note the fact that they hadn’t so much as looked at their own food. Even the thought of eating something made their stomach twist.

“Thank you.”

“Really, it’s fine. So... How is our, y’know, secret?”

“Villain?”

“Duh.”

“They’re... they’re fine, I think. Still out of it. But, like I said, I got them to drink some water. And they seemed to recognize me.”

“They didn’t recognize you before?”

“No. I don’t think so, at least. They were really out of it.”

“Are you ever planning on telling me what happened to them?”

Hero had almost forgotten that Leader was in the dark about the whole thing. Yet, they were being so trusting. Hell, they hadn’t even trusted Hero when they hadn’t been lying to them.

“Um...”

“You don’t have to.”

It was the first time they’d ever heard Leader string those particular words together.

“But, I would like to know. You need your rest, and Villain needs a caretaker. I was a nurse once, y’know.”

“You were?”

“I don’t know if your surprise should insult me. But, yes. I can keep watch over them while you sleep, but it would help if I actually knew what was wrong with them.”

“Yeah.” Hero scratched the back of their neck. “Thing is, um, I don’t really know?”

“Well, you said they were drugged, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that for sure.”

“Do you know what with?”

“About that...”

Leader raised a brow.

Hero let their next words tumble out of their lips like a waterfall, unable to stop once it had begun to flow.

“Villain has been kept sedated to unconsciousness for the last year. They were supposed to be rehabilitated, but they were drugged instead. I don’t know why.”

Leader dropped their fork.

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what drugs they were given. Just that they were sedated.”

“I see. How did... How did they leave the rehab facility.”

Hero diverted their gaze.

“That’s not really important.”

A sigh.

“Okay. We can talk about that later. Thank you, for telling me. Was there... Was there a reason? They wouldn’t just be drugged for no reason.”

Hero shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know.”

Leader bit their lip.

“With everything going on recently, I hesitate to ignore the possibility that Director had something to do with it.”

“You really think so?”

“Maybe. You aren’t planning on eating, are you?”

“I...” Hero felt their face flush. “I don’t feel too well.”

“That’s fine. I’ll clean up. You go get your rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll keep everyone away from your room. And, Hero?”

“Yeah?”

“Sleep in your own bed. I can keep an eye on Villain.”

“Thank you.”

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Collapsing onto their own bed felt like falling onto a cloud. The mattress curved, shifting to cradle their aching body. For a moment, Hero could not help but nestle themself in it, letting their pillow almost envelope their head.

Birds had long since begun their outside chirping, but that was inconsequential. At that point, Hero could have slept through an earthquake.

But, apparently, not through a phone call.

The ringing noise jolted them from their blissful repose. Without thought, their hand blindly searched for the vibrating device on their nightstand. They blinked against the screen’s bright light.

Hacker. A wave of relief filled their chest-- they were okay. Without thought, they accepted the call, placing the phone to their ear.

“Hero?”

“Yep. Hey, Hacker.”

“Oh, thank god you’re alright! Though you do sound a little bit like garbage.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just saying, just saying. Oh, you have no idea how worried I was. The news only just broke this morning. I could hardly sleep, last night.”

“I thought you were like, nocturnal.”

A stutter.

“I mean, you kept me up all day, so. You know how it is. But I’m just really glad. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just tired.”

“You must be. The news... that wasn’t right, was it? They said you escaped from Villain.”

“The reports are wrong. I never got captured in the first place. But, I’m just fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. How is...”

“Villain?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. Really out of it, but fine.”

“That’s good. Look, I know you’re tired, but I just found something that... Well, I think you’re really gonna want to hear it.”

“What is it?”

“Not here. Not over the phone. Too dangerous.”

“You want to meet up again?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure that’s, like, a good idea?”

“Not in public like before. That wouldn’t be good for either of us, I don’t think. But I know another place.”

“Oh?”

“It’s, um, so, this is gonna sound bad. It’s this abandoned warehouse thing. And I know that sounds sketchy as hell, but it’s fine, I promise. I’ve been to a few parties there. The underground kind of people use it a lot, so it’s perfectly safe.”

“Um... Okay. Where is it?”

“Ashworth, on the East side. It’s pretty obvious once you see it, but the number on it is 62.”

“You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly, like, it’s abandoned, but there’s parties there all the time. And it should be empty during the day. How fast can you get there?”

“Um...” Hero blinked with leaden eyelids. “Does it have to be right now?”

“I guess it could wait. Why?”

“I feel like I’m going to collapse. I’m exhausted, Hacker.”

“Oh. How about tonight?”

“Tonight is fine.”

“Does eight sound good?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Uh, sleep well.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

And, with a collapse onto their pillow and the click of a hung-up phone call, Hero was out.

Yet, as they fell into unconsciousness, a single thought couldn’t help but worm its way into their consciousness:

Hacker hated other people. They wouldn’t be caught dead going to a party.

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“Villain?”

It was a soft voice, yet marked with a distinctively higher pitch. Villain stirred, kicking at their layers of blankets.

“Hey, Villain. Can you open your mouth for me?”

The voice was odd, yet warm. They blinked their eyes open, letting the world come into focus around them.

A figure, kneeled down in front of them. A face...

They knew that face.

Someone familiar. Someone they’d fought before...

Leader. Why was Leader here?

“You need to open your mouth for me, okay?” It was Leader’s voice, but not their tone. It shouldn’t have been that soft, right? Or maybe their memories were simply foggy.

Regardless, they allowed their jaw to fall open. The taste of plastic filled their mouth as an eyedropper was placed upon their tongue, followed by the bitter taste of medicine, sliding down their throat. Villain struggled to cough up the liquid, but their jaw was gently held in position until they had swallowed every last drop.

“There.” The taste of plastic retreated, disappearing as a few sips of water were washed down after. “Thank you.”

“W- What is...”

“It’s gonna make all that drug withdrawal easier.”

The face went out of focus, replaced by a black dot, in the center of Villain’s vision. A spoon.

“Can you look at this?” A fingernail tapped the plastic dinnerware. They nodded.

Slowly, at first, the spoon began to move. First left to right, then up and down, before moving around more erratically. After a few moments, Villain blinked, shaking their head, eyes exhausted.

“Thank you.” The spoon lowered out of view. “You’re gonna need a bit more time to recover, but you’re getting there. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Goodnight, hun.”

Villain let their heavy eyelids fall closed, barely registering as their blankets were tucked back in around their chest. Warmth enveloped them, mind wrapped in blissful heat, until...

Chill. An unmistakable chill biting their skin, nipping at their reddened nose. They blinked, rubbing their eyes with one hand, the world around them taking shape.

Taking shape...

Taking the wrong shape.

Where were...

They blinked once more, their surroundings coming into focus. Far more focus than their vision had permitted them in a very, very long time.

The building before them was large enough to block out the sun.

It could only be described as a brick-- that was what it was, a brick of concrete, marked by little more than faded graffiti and tattered signs that may have once warned against trespassing. The only marking that remained clearly visible was the number-- the building number, sticking out in brown-painted metal.

62.

Villain felt bile rise in their throat. They knew exactly where they were. The car they’d used to get here was only a minute’s walk away. They needed to get to it, to run, to turn and leave as fast their legs would take them. This was it! Their second chance! Their chance to leave, to make everything right again. To unmake the decision that had ruined them.

But they could not turn. Their legs would not move under their command, instead, alien limbs began to move forward. Towards the building’s entrance.

No, no, please no!

They needed to turn, to leave, but...

They did not have the power to make that decision. They could only watch.

Why had they been here in the first place? All that time ago... To confront someone. To find Supervillain. They’d done something. Hurt someone, maybe?

Panic twisted their thoughts far too much to allow them to focus on such far-away memories. The panic of moving, moving eternally forwards. To the entrance, through the doorway.

Into the warehouse.

Inside was terribly dark, small slivers of light illuminating only an expanse of boxes long since left abandoned, their cargo doomed to rot. They had never understood why Supervillain spent so much time here. Certainly they could have found a better hideout.

But, Supervillain was strange. No one understood them.

They were here, though. Villain could feel them, hear heavy breathing, sense the way their presence disrupted the psychic landscape around.

Villain stilled.

Leave. Turn around. Go! It’s not worth it, they begged themself. But...

But their hand reached for their pocket, producing a phone in trembling hands. They tapped the screen, activating the flashlight, flooding the concrete floor with illumination.

However, they hardly needed the light to remember what came next. The image would never leave their mind, they were certain of it. Never remove itself from where it was burned irreversibly into their corneas.

One figure, leaned over another. Holding them to the ground.

Hands over their neck.

If Director had at any point struggled, their straining had long since ceased. The only sign of life they displayed came in the way they weakly kicked against Supervillain’s unyielding grip.

Villain was not the one being strangled, but they could not breathe even so.

“Who the hell is there?” The voice, that furious, terrible tone, echoed off of every concrete wall and rotten crate.

Supervillain looked up from their victim, gaze meeting that of their newfound witness.

“Who!”

Villain’s legs went stock-still. They could have run, at any point, they could have run, they could have run.

But...

Director stopped struggling. Supervillain stood, rolling out their shoulders.

For a moment, their body twisted, snapping and curling in on itself. Bones morphing, shrinking or extending, muscles rearranging themselves in a horrible scene.

Villain had forgotten just how horrible it was, to watch Supervillain use their powers.

When, at last, their transformation was complete, Villain was staring back at the living face of Director.

Cold, grey eyes met theirs.

“Villain?”

Supervillain, the new Director, grumbled, moving over to the corpse of their victim. Prying a walkie-talkie from their belt.

Holding it to their own mouth.

“Hello, HQ? I’m going to need some backup, here.”

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Inside the warehouse was terribly dark.

Hero’s legs felt nearly numb, wandering within, only the slightest slivers of light able to creep in through the door. They walked by those shreds of light, though they hardly did so much as allowing them to see their own feet before them.

Still, they walked. The building smelled terribly of rotten wood.

“Hacker?” Their voice echoed off of every concrete wall and rotten crate. “Are you here?”

“Over here.” The voice called from the other side of the building-- how had they gotten all the way over there?

“Where? Is there a light in this place?”

“It’s been abandoned for half a century. No, there are no lights. Doesn’t your phone have a flashlight?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Hero fumbled in their own pocket for a moment, taking out the device. Even with the flashlight, however, the darkness still seemed to envelope the whole world. They cast the beam of illumination around, scanning, yet finding nothing but crates and graffiti. “Where are you? I can’t see you.”

“Here.”

A figure stepped out from behind a support beam. Hacker’s small frame looked even more minuscule, surrounded by crates twice their height. They were half-hidden by an oversized hoodie, yet, their hood was not pulled up.

They always pulled their hood up.

Hero shook their head. They were being paranoid.

“I’m so glad to see you’re, like, alive.” Hacker smiled, approaching at a quick clip. Their laptop bag was hung across their chest, bouncing with their movements. “You aren’t hurt or anything, right?”

“No.” Hero shook their head, moving forward to meet their friend in the middle of the building. “I’m okay.”

“That’s too bad.”

“What?” Hero rubbed an ear-- had they heard wrong?

“I always heard you were a fucking idiot. Guess I just never realized to what extent.”

That... That was not Hacker’s voice.

Hero took a step back, a chill filling their chest.

Hacker’s form quickly began to fill their formerly oversized hoodie as, below them, their legs extended with a horrid noise of cracking and popping. Their facial features did the same, shifting as though molded in putty.

Director was taller than Hero.

Hero gulped.

Director took a step forth-- polished shoes clacking against concrete. How had Hero not noticed the shoes? Hacker would never wear something like that.

They...

Director held out a hand. To shake.

Hero raised an upper lip, baring their teeth.

“Where is Hacker?”

Laughter echoed against the walls.

“That’s what you’re worried about, right now?”

“They’re my friend!” Hero stomped. “And a civilian. Don’t bring them into this.”

Director smirked.

“I assure you, your friend is fine.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Well, right now, you’re going to have to.”

Hero took another step back, turning to run, already feeling their heartbeat elevate to a quick tattoo in their throat.

But...

There was nowhere to go.

“I didn’t bring you here for no reason, dear.”

There must have been a dozen of them, if not more. A dozen figures, scattered in loose formation, blocking the entrance. Surrounding them.

Hero spun back around. They were there now, behind Director, too.

And they knew every last face. Every reformed villain. Every rehab center graduate.

They gulped.

“Now.”

Hero didn’t realize how close Director had gotten, not until they laid a massive hand upon their shoulder.

“We are going to talk.”

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Thanks so much for reading! This time, the choices are going to be a bit different. In the way of, there are no choices! At least, none that I am coming up with. You guys have given so many amazing suggestions in the past, so I thought, how about you suggest what happens next in our story.

Instead of giving you guys choices, its up to you to decide what our Hero will do next. If you really like another person’s suggestion, you can vote for it! Otherwise, I will choose what I find the most interesting.

I’m hoping that this will be fun. If it proves to be difficult/complicated/etc, I can certainly add choices, but I thought I’d do something a bit different this time around ^^

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Birth of Something New Ch.1 (ConnorxPregnantReader)

I started writing this fic on Ao3 and it was pretty popular. I thought I would post it here, like my other stories. I read some pregnancy fics where the couple were trying for a child or it didn’t really explain how reader got pregnant. I wanted to go a different route. I hope y’all enjoy this, if not, I still have my other fics roaming around here. 

It started with the nausea. You woke up one morning feeling terrible before eventually emptying your stomach contents into the toilet. You figured it was just the flu or something you ate that didn't agree with you, so when Connor offered to take you to the doctor, you declined.

"I'll just... take today off and rest."

Your words did nothing to placate your fiance's worries, but he said nothing more as he rubbed your back when you violently gagged. After an hour or so, you were starting to feel better. Still, you took the day anyway as a precaution. Connor offered to stay to help you, but one person out of work is plenty. That didn't stop him from coming home on his lunch break to check on you, even making you a light lunch.

The nausea didn't stop. It would happen at random times, or when you caught a particular smell. While sometimes you could get past it, most of the time Connor would watch as you made your way to the nearest restroom as discretely as possible, following after you when he could.

You started sleeping more. Waking you for work had always been a hassle, but you usually were up and motivated after a half hour or so. Now, it was like you were never fully awake, even falling asleep at your desk a few times and being reprimanded by Captain Fowler.

When you flew off the handle after Connor had accidentally bumped into you getting up from the couch, he knew something wasn't right. You weren't the most mild mannered person he knew, your 'spit-fire' personality a trait he's come to love, but you rarely snapped at him.

Connor had promised you that he wouldn't scan you unless it was a life or death situation. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate it, you just didn't like knowing he could see your inner workings. He didn't want to break your trust, but your behavior could be indicative of an underlying illness that could be potentially fatal if left unchecked, and you still refused to go to the hospital. While you were sleeping, he performed the scan.

There, within your womb, was the early stages of another life.

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment. Panic tried to make itself known as he stares at the almost unidentifiable mass in your lower abdomen. The scan supplied that you were about five weeks pregnant. Going back through his memory, he recalled it to be a relatively busy week for you. There had been an influx of anti-android gang activity, and as the head emergency android technician, you were sent out to assist any injured androids. Connor and Hank still had their own duties in homicide, but it was slow moving, so Connor actually beat you home several times. He also noted an increase in your libido, using free time to engage him in sexual acts rather than catching up on rest. While he had pointed this out, you complained you were too worked up to sleep.

Had you been so lascivious that you found another partner while he was not around? Was he not enough for you? Under normal circumstances, he would have never questioned your love and devotion, but the evidence was right there for him to see. A child he could not produce.

Was that it? Did your basic human nature outweigh your fealty to him? He could swear his love to the stars and back, but it would never be enough to procreate.

Connor's processors were overtaxed, conflicting with one another. Possibilities and other statistics popping up as he tried to prove that what he saw was wrong, or some logical explanation that could explain any other way you could have became pregnant.

He couldn't explain it. You had slept with another man.

He felt like shouting, screaming as rage roiled around his body faster than thirium. He wanted to cry, the pain of being cast aside threatened to drop him to his knees. It was this kind of pain that makes Connor understand why androids are not supposed to feel, supposed to be incapable of it.

He can't bring himself to lie back down with you, as if he wasn't just a replaceable body for you to use. He stumbles to the living room, clipping his shoulder on the bedroom door as he exits. He couldn't see past the warnings in his vision, telling him he was overheating and needs to lower his stress level. Times like these, you were always there to ground him, but now you were the reason for his downward spiral.

You woke up, hearing movement throughout the bedroom. Feeling next to you, you noticed that Connor was no longer there. Slowly clambering out of bed, you looked to the time on the nightstand. 1:38am. There was the familiar queasiness sitting in the background. At this point, there wasn't much left in your poor stomach. It was becoming a problem to eat anything and keeping it down. Perhaps Connor was right, maybe you should make an appointment to get this checked out.

Your head swam as you stood, almost dropping you to the ground before your vision returned. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you made your way out the bedroom in search of your future husband. You enjoyed addressing him as such, loving his flustered reaction. It was almost as nice as hearing him call you his future wife.

Seeing part of the living room bathed in red killed all feelings except panic.

"Connor! What's wrong?" The deviant was sitting on the couch, head in his hand over his eyes as his LED was a solid red. You rushed over but before you could make contact he flinched away. Collecting yourself, you got down on your knees in front of him,

"Connor? What's bothering you?"

It almost seemed like he wasn't going to answer you. When he did, it was a deep, cold voice rather than the rich honey he usually used when he spoke to you.

"You're pregnant."

You regarded him with a confounded look. Clearly you must have misheard him.

"What?"

He looked up. There was a storm in his ordinarily warm eyes, ice cold and sharp enough to pierce skin, and it terrified you.

"You're pregnant."

"T-that's not possible," your voice shook as he kept his eyes locked on you. Why was he acting like this? And why does he think you're pregnant?

"I scanned you while you were sleeping. You are pregnant."

A feeling of heartbreaking astonishment washed away some of the fear. "You scanned me? You promised me you wouldn't do that."

"Why? Worried I might have found out about your affair sooner?"

"Affair? I'm no-"

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me!" His words piercing harder than any bullet ever could. "You can't hide the evidence from me! It's right there!" He jabbed his finger towards your lower abdomen, you falling backwards onto your ass from the sudden motion. He was towering over you. Never have you felt this level of fear, especially not from your Connor.

"Am I not enough for you? Have I not given you everything that you ask of me?" He could see tears forming in your eyes, a part of him screaming at himself, begging him to stop.

His pleas fell on deaf ears as he seethed.

"Was I ever anything to you? Did you ever see me as more than a machine you could toy with, then toss aside when you're done?"

You tried to form words, deny his accusations, but he cut you off at every opportunity as you hiccupped and weeped. His hands shot out and gripped your upper arms, tight enough to leave marks as he gave you a rough shake.

"What am I to you!?!"

"I'M SCARED!!!" You shrieked. Like a cornered animal, you fought to get loose, kicking and scratching at him. Your petrified voice snapped him out of his acrimony. He let go as you shoved yourself as far away from him as you could, slamming into the far wall with a squeak.

What was wrong with him? How could he do such a thing to you? You, who had been his light for so long. You were shaking, harsh breaths as panic and fear smothered you.

"Y-Y/n... I-" he slowly reached out to you, but you recoiled before dashing off to the bedroom. He could hear the click of the lock as he fell to his knees. Even through the door he could hear your sharp gasps and deep sobs. The sounds tormented him as he broke down and cried.

At some point in the night, his stress levels hit 95% and he was forced into emergency low power mode, a setting he downloaded to deal with work stress. Only when his internal alarm told him it was time to get ready for work did he stir. He was still on his knees on the living room floor, tears dried and leaving a residue he could feel on his cheeks and chin.

Slowly standing, he looked down the hall. The bedroom door was shut, but you had stopped crying. He thought about knocking on the door and informing you of the time, of sitting down and having a proper discussion, even of apologizing. You might have broken his heart, but the pieces were still yours, and under no circumstances should he have hurt you the way that he did.

In the end, he knew he was the last person you wanted to see right now, so he got ready. For a moment he wondered what he was going to wear, his work clothes were in the closet of the bedroom, until he noticed a pair of jeans and a button-down folded neatly on the table, fresh socks tucked in his shoes. He almost broke down again. Even after what he put you though, you still snuck out and made sure he was taken care of. He got dressed with the weight of that thought in mind. It didn't make any sense. Nothing you did was indicative that you betrayed him. After a few more minutes of hesitation, he turned and left for work, leaving you alone.

You came in to work an hour late. You had make-up on, something you rarely bothered with. Somehow you had managed to cover up the bags under your eyes quite well, but the RK800 could still see them. To the unwitting eye, it would seem like you were fine, smiling and waving at fellow co-workers. Connor saw right through your facade, the fake smiles and forced laughs.

"Never would have pegged her as the 'sleeping around' type," Hank glanced over at you, to which you fake a smile before going back to talking with one of the android officers.

Hank wasn't as washed-up as Gavin might have people believing. He saw how you avoided Connor, practically running away from him when he ventured too close. Connor had already confessed to what happened last night, along with what was currently baking in your oven. While he sure as hell doesn't condone what Connor did, he understands where the kid's coming from.

You, however, he had known longer than Connor. There hadn't been any boyfriend or what have you before Connor as far as he knew. You hid insecurities behind high standards, and Connor had been the first one to see that. You wore thick armor to protect yourself, but Connor could see through you like glass, as you did him.

Hank thought he had never seen you happier, until Connor proposed a few months back. As soon as the law passed that recognized human/android marriages, the two of you would set a date. You had been so excited, and you showed off the deep blue crystal to anyone who ventured too close. A thirium diamond, made using some of Connor's own blue blood. Hank thought it was gross, but it did look nice.

The two of you were always clinging to each other, and when you weren't, you sure as hell always talked about the other all the damn time. You didn't fit the profile for a cheater, but that doesn't explain how you ended up pregnant.

"Could she have been raped?" Hank hated that it could be a possibility, but it wasn't off the table.

"Y/n is a capable person, even if someone had successfully assaulted her, she would have fought and therefore would of had bruises or scratch marks. There were only small bruises on her hips and one decent size bruise on her right thigh from hitting the corner of her desk."

"What were the small bruises from?"

"Me. I held her too tightly."

"You're fuckin' disgusting." Hank sneered. Suddenly, Hank snapped his head to something behind Connor. "What the fuck?"

Connor followed Hank's gaze and spotted four male androids, dressed in Cyberlife attire, standing in front of your office. They took six crates of bottled thirium while you talked to a female android, also dressed in a Cyberlife embroidered lab coat. You signed a document and handed over some papers before shaking her hand.

"The fuck was that all about?"

You looked over at Connor for the first time today, looking like you needed to say something, only to change your mind and head back into your office.

"You gonna see what she wants?" Hank eyed the RK800.

Connor's gaze lingered where you had stood,

"...No. I believe I will only make things worse should I go to her. I think the best course is to wait until she approaches me." The android turned away and brought his focus to the list of reports on his terminal.

Days went by like this. While you were pretending everything was normal, Connor had thrown himself into his work, a habit he developed when he was unable to deal with his problems or emotions and needed a distraction. He was filling out reports like a mad man, scanning drone footage near crime scenes, analyzing evidence, all in an effort to hide from his problems. He could almost forget how much he misses holding you in his arms, seeing your smile, or listening to your heartbeat.

He could almost forget how much he loves you, and how much it fucking hurt.

He only went home to change his clothes. While he didn't sweat like humans did, working out in the field can be quite filthy. Every time he did, there would be fresh clothes sitting on the table in the kitchen, even a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt should he decide to stay.

He had hardly seen you at all during this time, only locking eyes with you once and it had been terrifying. The light that shined in your eyes was out completely, leaving behind an empty shell. He never thought he would see you like that, and he wishes he never did.

At night, sometimes, he would hear you crying behind the locked bedroom door, the sound like a knife to his heart. Any efforts made to rectify the situation, or at least discuss the next step for them, was met with silence. You refused to unlock the door and he couldn't scare you again by forcing his way in.

Sometimes he felt a sense of injustice. You had cheated on him, betrayed him, and now he feels the need to apologize to you? At these moments, he feels his worse, because he knows that rage he can't control is waiting for the perfect time to strike.

"I don't know what to do. She won't speak to me. I'm still angry about what she did, but at the same time I don't think I can handle this much longer."

Hank leaned back and scratched at his beard, "I don't know what to tell ya, son. This is one of those things you have to decide on yer own. It's a huge change, no matter..." Hank looked up at the large newscreen, prompting Connor to tune in as well.

"...Cyberlife is recalling 190,000 bottles of thirium after several reports came in of pregnancy in human women after their android partner consumed the contaminated substance. It is believed that an experimental formula meant to help androids and humans conceive a child had been accidentally mass produced. Cyberlife is investigating the incident and asks any who might have been affected to report to a nearby Cyberlife hospital for further treatment..."

"Holy shit."

Connor turned to his partner, eyes wide as his breathing picked up, fast and shallow. He had been injured the week before you conceived, stabbed by a suspect trying to flee. It was minor, but you gave him some thirium to replenish what he lost. Then there were those androids the other day, carrying out all the thirium you had on hand. It all lined up with one another, which means...

"She didn't..." Connor couldn't finish his sentence, because the weight of those words crashed around him. It meant what he did to you was for nothing. The love of his life was now petrified of him, and it was all his fault.

He sprang up, chair falling over as he did. "I need to go talk to her. I need..."

"You need to calm down," Hank got up and rushed over, blocking Connor in as he picked up the fallen chair. Connor was pacing, trying to get past Hank. Other officers were starting to look on, but the lieutenant waved them off.

"All yer gonna do is scare her if you go marching in there looking like that."

At that, Connor sat back down. He focused on his breathing rather than the thoughts racing though his mind. Did this mean you were carrying his child? Was he going to be a father? Would you ever forgive him? Guilt and shame flooded his systems. It was him who had betrayed you.

"Why don't you go home early today? Clear your mind, think carefully about how you're going to handle the situation."

Connor looked up, as if to argue, before dropping his head and nodding. He got up without another word and made his way toward the exit. Hank took the opportunity to head towards your office.

"Hey, Y/n."

You looked up and flashed him one of your fake smiles. It didn't even reach your eyes.

"Hey, Hank, do you need something?"

He closed the door and your smile fell. Getting a good look at you, Hank could only think of one thing.

"You look like shit."

Your skin was pale and almost had a sickly hue to it. Your make-up was no longer able to hide the swollen, dark circles under your dull eyes. It seemed like you were going to puke at any second. He also couldn't be sure, but it looked like you lost weight.

You sighed, "Did you really come in here just to say that? If so, I don't need you to, I already know." You turned back to your computer.

"Actually, I came in here to talk to ya about Connor." You visibly tensed. "Did you happen to see the news report?"

"I didn't have to. Cyberlife came and replaced all the thirium I had stockpiled. They told me why and asked for a list of people who might have ingested it. They already know about me and Connor and informed me to go to a Cyberlife hospital. I haven't had time."

"Wait a minute, you knew for three days that Connor drank tainted thirium and didn't say anything?"

"Four nights ago he accused me of cheating and wouldn't even give me the benefit of defending myself. Why would it be different now? 'Hey, Connor, turns out I'm pregnant because you drank magic blue blood. We cool right?'" You turned to him, irritated, "And don't act all innocent. I seen the way you looked at me, like I somehow disappointed you. You know me a hell of a lot better than that, Hank!"

"What the hell did you expect me to think?Connor sure as fuck couldn't knock you up!" Hank growled.

"And yet, here we are." You spoke with a calm anger before doubling over, grabbing the trash can under your desk and heaving up a small amount of bile. The agitation left Hank as he went to help, but you swatted his hands away. "Fuck off." You choked out.

"When was the last time you ate somethin'?"

"I'm fine. You didn't care ten minutes ago, why start now?"

Hank didn't say anything. It was true. He knew you were pregnant, knew that you had been sick beforehand, and yet, not once did he ask since the fight how you were doing. He had viewed Connor as the victim without even meaning to. He didn't even ask if you wanted to press charges against Connor for harming you. Wasn't he a fucking cop?

"Shit, kid, I didn't-"

"It's fine, Hank, I get it, he's like a son to you."

"That don't make what he or I did right. Listen, if you don't feel safe around him, I can send an officer out to detain him."

You shook your head, "No, I can't exactly blame him for feeling how he felt, even if he was being an asshole. I would have thought the same. I'm not going to ruin his record like that."

"Well, if you want, he can stay at my place for a while. Least until you feel comfortable with being around 'im."

"As much as he scared me, I'm even more terrified at the prospect of being alone right now. People are not going to be happy about Cyberlife finding a way to breed their bots. It's another step towards evolution and to our extinction. I've already been alerted to several cases of women being attacked outside Cyberlife hospitals and because Connor is famous, many already know he's engaged to a human. I don't want to be alone right now."

"Alright, well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Even if you need a place to stay, my door is open."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." A message popped up on your computer about a domestic abuse case involving an android, asking for your assistance. These had been popping up a lot lately, especially before the announcement. You stood up, gripping the desk as you threatened to crumple to the floor. The headache you had developed left you blind with its searing pain. Hank again reached out, helping to keep you upright until your moment of dizziness passed.

"You need to go to the hospital."

You nodded as you hurried out, not really listening at this point. You had a job to do, and you weren't going to let Connor, Hank, or even the child in your stomach get in your way.

By the time your shift ended, you were exhausted and agitated. Your headache was only getting worse, unable to take any medication in case it affected the baby. You managed to eat some grapes, but who knows how long they will stay down.

Once at home you noticed that the lights were on. Connor had beat you home for the first time since this all started. Anxiety tried to surface but your irritation was quick to kill it. Walking through the door you were quick to notice the smell of food lingering in the air. Your stomach turned painfully, not ready for the next round of dry heaves. The second thing you noted was how immaculate the the place looked. You haven't felt much like cleaning and just said 'fuck it'.

Connor rounded the corner from the bathroom and froze when he saw you, LED flashing red before settling on yellow. With where he stood, he blocked the bedroom door, not that you really felt like going that way anyway. It was your house too, and you weren't going to keep hiding in your bedroom. Connor stayed where he was, afraid to scare you off again, as he spoke softly the words he had put together and memorized.

"I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I can understand if you never want to see me again." He paused, the thought that it might be a possibility painful. He drew in a breath to steady himself, "What I did was unforgivable. I questioned your love when you needed me the most, even going so far as to hurt you. If you do decide to forgive me, I promise I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, and I will never doubt you again."

In the back of your mind, you were happy he finally believed you. Here he was, asking for forgiveness, true remorse written on his face. You believed every word and wanted nothing more than for things to go back to normal, to be held in his arms and let him mend the hurt in your heart.

However, you were still tired and resentful, and the hurt you were feeling wanted to be known.

"What? Now that you saw it on the news you suddenly believe me?" Connor looked away in shame, biting his lower lip. "I get that this is an unusual circumstance, but I expected a little more faith in me than that. I shouldn't have to be afraid of what might happen if you get pissed off again!"

"You're right, you shouldn't, and I don't want you to be. I never want you to look at me again the way you did that night."

"And don't think I'm not still angry that you scanned me! You promised me, and you didn't even ask! And what the hell is that smell?"

Connor looked towards the kitchen, "I made dinner. I couldn't sit still and I figured you would want something to eat when you got home."

"Throw it away, it's making me sick!"

Connor looked both confused and hurt, "It's your favorite..."

"I don't want..." your throbbing head started to swim, the room spinning as you fell. Connor ran over and caught you.

"Y/n! What's wrong?" He noted your flushed skin, temperature running higher than usual. "I need to scan you to figure out what's wrong."

You sighed before you nodded, too tired to care at this point. A quick scan revealed you were extremely dehydrated and malnourished. Your heart rate was also much higher than usual.

Hoisting you up in his arms, he carried you to your car and set you down in the front passenger seat before climbing into the driver's side. He hesitated to which hospital he should take you to. Deciding on a Cyberlife ran hospital, he drove to the nearest one. You both needed answers.

You had fallen asleep almost immediately. He tried not to think about how he had let you get to this state. You might have been too stubborn for your own good, neglecting your health at a crucial time in your life, but had Connor not been so busy being pissed off and upset, you would have never reached this state. When he asked you to be his partner, he vowed to always take care of you. Now, as he pulled up, bold, red letters lit up a corner of his vision.

Mission Failed

He entered the lobby, you bundled in his arms. Two android nurses came up and preformed their own scan.

"Come this way, please." They led him to a small room with two beds, both of which were empty. The room had been fitted for humans, rather than the androids that usually came here. "Set her down on one of the beds and we'll start administering an IV drip." Connor did as he was told, watching as the two nurses worked on you. They set up the heart monitor and slipped a needle under your skin, allowing you the hydration and some of the nutrition you desperately needed.

"The drip will take approximately twenty minutes to finish administering. Once it's finished, Dr. Bower will do an examination and determine the next course of action. He will also inform you of what's going to happen and answer any questions you might have, along with listing all available options."

"Thank you," the nurse only smiled back before they both left, leaving him alone with you. Even asleep you looked to be in pain. Connor can only hope he made the right decision taking you here instead of a regular hospital.

When the revolution ended, Cyberlife was crumbling. Everyone thought for sure that they would be bankrupt before the year was out. If that happened, it would deal a huge blow to the already crumbling economy.

Then, Kamski stepped up and offered to be CEO again. Naturally, nobody refused and Kamski was able to turn things around. He started developing upgrades for androids and selling them on the market. He converted factories and previous storage buildings into android hospitals. While androids were weary to go to these places or get upgrades, they slowly got accustomed to it. Connor couldn't even begin to imagine what could have happened that would cause this accident when their reputation was hanging by a thread already.

You began to stir and Connor moved to sit in a chair next to your bed. He hesitated before gently taking your hand in his, feeling the ring resting on your third finger. Despite the situation, it still felt nice to feel your warmth again. He had missed it so much.

You begrudgingly opened your eyes, feeling an itch in your arm. You went to pick at it, but Connor knew you too well, holding your hand a little tighter.

"Don't."

"But it itches."

Connor could laugh at the normality of it all. If he wasn't so guilt-ridden, he just might have. Your pout has none of the enmity that your words held previously.

"This is my fault."

You groaned, "Dammit, Connor, stop that! I was the one who refused to go to the hospital before it got to this point. You even told me to." Despite your harsh words, you didn't pull your hand back. Instead, he felt your thumb sliding back and forth against his own. Your face softened.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about."

He put his head down. This was it. You were leaving him. He had failed you and you were done with him. He felt your fingers run through his hair. He turned his head and gazed at you. While you still looked so tired, you wore the softest smile he had ever seen from you.

"Silly man. I was talking about the baby."

"Oh." Right, of course. In the midst of everything, he had almost forgotten what had started it all. "Do you forgive me?"

"If you rub my shoulders when we get home."

He scoffed, "I think I can handle that."

"Then, yes, I forgive you." Your face hardened, "but if you EVER pull that shit again, I will shoot you."

"Understood."

[canadian-buckbeaver]

What is a Name Part 2

Just because Nikki wanted a second part where Iclyn was saved... <3

* * * * * * * 

The doctor groaned as her phone rang shrilly, interrupting her sleep. She had the misfortune of working a double shift on the baby ward and had finally gotten a moment to put her head down and get some much needed rest. Who could be calling her now?  It better be important… she grabbed her phone and sleepily put it to her ear.  “Hello?”

There was a pause before  a gruff clearing of a throat.  The voice that spoke sounded like one that had been recently racked with guilt.  “Hello. Is this the doctor with the baby quirk?”

Or maybe it was a customer. “It is yes. Can I ask who is calling?”

“My name is Shouta Aizawa.  We… my husband and I, ran into you in the grocery store a few months ago?”

Right.  The accidental quirk discharge. The girl had been adorable with those big blue eyes.  “Yes I remember you.  Can I help you?” she asked, trying not to sound harried.  She was so tired.

“Yes… I… we…” another deep breath.  “The girl vanished.”

What a shame.  There had been great potential with that one.  “Did you name her?”

“We… we hadn’t yet no…”

The doctor was doing her best as to not sound annoyed but her precious rest was slipping away.  “I did say that the girl would disappear in three months if she wasn’t given a name.”

Shouta interrupted her this time.  “We still had another day.  It hadn’t been three months yet. We were going to name her we…” his voice broke. “We just needed more time…”

The doctor sighed, sitting up.  “Listen. If the baby appears and is not given a name, they disappear like they were never there.  But if the baby is feeling helpless and incredibly upset, the chances of them disappearing sooner increases.  I only heard of one such case before.  I had bumped into another couple who were not interested in having children.  When the baby seemed to lose all hope that they would get a name, they disappeared much sooner.  It is possible that this happened to your daughter.”

* * *

Shouta swallowed hard, tears dripping down his cheeks slowly. Akarin had been removed from the room by Tetsu, leaving him and Hizashi alone in the room.  “I understand.  Thank you.” He hung up the phone.

Hizashi looked at him.  “Well?” his voice was quivering.

“Apparently if the child loses hope at being named they will disappear sooner…” Shouta said, sitting beside his husband, looking down at Mr. Beary.  “It all makes sense now.  She had been so obsessed with names lately… asking when and why we named the cats, Midnight’s fists, boats, my grandmother…”

“Tetsu said that she had asked when Akarin had been named.” Hizashi mused. “We…. We fucked up.  Didn’t we? She was practically begging to be named, to be loved and we…” he choked out a sob and held the bear to his face, tears staining the fabric.

They sat like that, huddled together, trying to comfort each other and come to the new reality. There they were, surrounded by the few toys that she had, the drawings that she had made, and no daughter to speak of. Not anymore.  She was gone.

There was something else Shouta realized. They sat in silence.  Gone was her little footsteps, gone was her soft noises.  Anything that was associated with her and her alone, were gone.  He missed it already.  He missed her already.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Hizashi lips trembled again.  “She was completely alone when she disappeared.  We were right downstairs the whole time and we knew nothing…”

Shouta shushed him quietly.  “There was no way that we could have known.  She came up here for a reason…”

She didn’t want to burden them with her disappearing Shouta knew. She had given up on getting a name, she didn’t want to force them to name her.  Looking back Shouta could almost describe their actions as cruel. Always putting off the talk of names, not really answering her questions.  They had written it off as idle child curiosity.  But really, she was looking for her own name.  The lock that would tie her to this world.

The symbol of their love for her.

“Shouta… look…” Hizashi carefully pulled the long, curly hair off of the bear.  Not his. It was their daughter’s.  Hizashi’s blond, his waves… their daughter. She had Hizashi’s quirk and Shouta’s quiet thoughtfulness…

And they missed it all.  They were too wrapped up in their own little world to try and make room for one more.

“Iclyn Yamada-Aizawa,” Shouta whispers quietly, taking the hair between his fingers.  “It suits her.”

Hizashi eyed him before smiling softly, wiping at his eyes. “It has a nice ring to it.  Our little Iclyn…”

“Our daughter… we could call her Ice for short.”

“She needs a middle name. Perhaps Kai? Tetsu would love it.” Hizashi suggested.

“Iclyn Kai Yamada-Aizawa. It’s perfect.” A fresh pair of tears traced Shouta’s cheeks.

Hizashi sniffs, holding the bear tightly to him before reaching out for Shouta again.  They embrace tightly, allowing grief to run through them.  The perfect name for a perfect daughter.

Their perfect daughter.

There is a soft, warm whisper of a voiceless whisper and a bright flash of light.  In front of their eyes little Iclyn reforms, her hair falling around her face, hands clasped to her ears and her cheeks as wet as theirs.  She’s trembling and whimpering softly, pressing herself into herself, making herself as small as possible.

They don’t even hesistate.

Together they reach out, gently touching her shoulders and arms before picking her up and pulling her into their embrace.  Mr. Bearey is clutched to her chest as Iclyn slowly opens her eyes, taking in the colour of the world around her, and the feel of her dads’ embrace.  They are whispering soft, loving things to her ear.  How they will not let her go again, how she is there to stay. Little Iclyn is there to stay.  They whisper her name to her again and again, solidifying her in the world again.  Mr. Bearey falls into her lap as she hugs them tight, softly crying. And slowly, slowly she calms.

* * * * *

Iclyn’s cries out desperately, kicking at the darkeness, screaming and sobbing, pleading.  The darkeness is closing in on her, smothering her.  It is whispering how no one loved her, no one wanted to keep her, how she belongs to the dark. That everything will be ok as long as she surrenders to it.  Panic has long since set in.  Her heart races, tears stream down her face, her breathing rapid and shallow.  Her body is trembling as she is stuck in the middle of the extreme panic attack, a downward spiral that has no end.  This cannot be happening again, not again, not again!  She is loved! Her parents named her! Akarin, or Scarlet is her sister and adores her! Where are they? Why aren’t they saving her from the darkness that wants her soul and life and-

There is the whiz of sharp steel and the sound of a falling lock. Iclyn gasps and pulls her hands away from her googles in time to watch the lid of the container she was stuck in fly open with a bang, Stain’s wild silhouette against the brightness of the moon.

For a moment they don’t move, just staring at one another. There is a slight breeze outside, Stain’s scarf waving softly with it.  It smells cool and sweet, like the aftermath of a rainstorm. Yet the air feels warm, comfortable.  She must not have been locked in the container for very long then.  Iclyn gives a hard swallow, attempting to slow her heartbeat and her breathing, trying to stop her tears.  There is nothing to worry about. No absolute darkness, no whispers. She was ok…

Stain stuck a hand in, the bandages dirty and looking like they are steeped in blood.  But he doesn’t say anything, not now. He takes her hand, helping her sit up slowly, and then helping her out of the container.  She brushes herself off, straightening her googles and her blue jacket, making sure her boots were straight along with her directional speaker. It was nothing clunky like her Dad’s more like a tiny, dainty necklace in case she needed to add a boost to her roar. The scarf was still loosely tied around her waist.  Good. Pops would be beyond pissed if she lost another one.  After making sure that she was still intact, she rubbed at her face, cleaning the tears.

“Thank you Stain,” she told her recently reformed partner.  “I appreciate you getting me out of there…” she didn’t want to know what he needed to do to save her.

There’s a whisper of wings and a soft breeze before she finds herself wrapped up in arms and wings. “Iclyn! Thank Kami you’re safe… the villains split up after they captured you and cast a hologram. I’ve been chasing at least five other groups before I got here.  Thank Kami that Stain managed to get you out.  How are you? How do you feel?” Hawks pulled back enough to let him look at her, tucking her hair behind her ears and gently wiping her tears away.

“I’m better now…” she admits, her voice still wavering. Seems like she still wasn’t over her claustrophobia yet. She took a breath.  “Come on.  Let’s find Scarlet and Ground Zero. Before I was pushed into that container I think I heard their code for reinforcements.”

“That would explain the armoured cars that were in the distance,” Hawks says as he looks in the direction.  “Are you going to be ok, Iclyn?  Do you want to stop for a break or something?”

“I’ll be fine.” Iclyn says firmly, adjusting her googles.  “Come on.  Can’t let my dad’s worry too much or I won’t be allowed out, ever again.”

Stain gently ruffles her hair, the soft gesture enough to make her pause. He’s looking at her, an intense, unreadable look to his eyes. “Let’s make them pay, Ice Dragon.” He says, removing his hand.  

Iclyn smiles.  It isn’t her normal smile, but one that looks like a strange mix of Mic and Eraser.  “Let’s go.”

[kirishima-eijibrou]

Pool Party

A/N: goodness gracious this is my first bnha thing i’ve ever written pls tell me how to be better if u want, i feel like it’s not as climactic as it could be

You throw a pool party for the class, but after getting injured in the pool, you get to spend some quality time with a certain spiky boy (and some wavy chips).

Kirishima x gn!Reader

Tags: cursing but mostly just fluff!

Word Count: 3.1k

You gotta say, you kinda rock.

The pool party you threw for your class is going great. In the pool, half the class splashes around or sits in the corners and talks. Inside, the rest of people hang out, some eating snacks, some gathering around the TV and playing the Switch. The house and backyard are all filled with conversation and a light, joyous atmosphere. You almost can’t believe you put together such a good party.

In the pool, you lounge near the deep end with Jirou, Momo, Ochaco, Toru, and Tsu. Jirou, Momo, Ochaco, and Toru sit on the edge of the pool, their feet kicking lightly in the water, and you and Tsu share a pool float, you sitting with your whole body splayed across it and Tsu with her arms resting on it, kicking her feet under her in the pool. The air smells like sunscreen and chlorine, and your skin feels nice, like it always does after it dries under the warm sun. Listening to the girls’ conversation and hearing all the other noises around you makes you feel so content.

“I GOT IT!” You hear, and without enough time to register where the voice even came from, something heavy lands on top of you, something hard hitting you on your head, and your whole body is shoved under the water. Tsuyu pulls you up, and you cough pool water out through your mouth and your nose, super painfully at that. “Are you okay?” It seems all the girls ask you in unison, but you still really have no clue what just happened, and your head swivels around you to try and figure it out. That’s when, assumingly because of how badly your neck took a beating when you got hit downward on the head, you have a horrible spasm of the upper back, crying out in pain and letting Momo awkwardly drag you up onto the pool deck. The stone scrapes up your back as she pulls you but you barely notice it because of the intense, though slowly subsiding, pain in the back of your neck.

“C’mon, dude, say sorry!” You hear Kaminari call, and when you weakly turn your neck to look, Bakugou’s looking away from you even though he’s facing you, holding an inflatable pool ball. “No, they were the one in my way!”

Finally you realize it was Bakugou who basically drowned you, presumably to catch that stupid ball, and though you want to be angry at him, you can’t really focus on anything except willing the pain to go away, and you figure it’d be easier just to let it go. He’s not going to feel bad about it anyway, so you look back up at Momo above you, because she’s been calling your name since you looked over at the boys in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, and you want her to calm down, but it’s hard to say words without your voice making it sound like it’s a lot worse than it already is, hoarse from hacking up the chemicals in the water and strained from the pain. “Just my neck, just my neck,” you say, but that seems to make everyone else more upset, probably because neck injuries are dangerous (you shoulda thought that one through), and Iida is yelling at everyone, and you wish everyone would just shut up. “Stop! Stop!” You say, and that seems to help a little, and the pain is finally subsiding enough that you can talk in understandable sentences. “It’s just a spasm, stop yelling, guys, for fuck’s sake!”

---

You stand now by the window, watching everyone still having fun in the pool without you. Everyone had practically kicked you out, not wanting you to pull your neck again and worrying for your safety. It was stupid really – as long as Bakugou didn’t jump on you again you’d probably be fine – but it was a unanimous decision among everyone in the pool that you should chill inside a while. So here you were, stuffing yourself with fruit punch and wavy chips, watching everyone laugh and splash around and be happy. Why are wavy chips so much better during pool parties? You eat five more at once.

Now that you’ve been watching the pool for a couple minutes, it’s like a TV show. You watch the girls gossip, stealing glances at whoever they’re talking about in between covering their mouths to whisper. You watch also, in slow motion, as Mina chucks a volleyball at Bakugou, obviously expecting him to hit it back at her, but from your angle, you see that he’s not paying attention. You watch in horror as it collides with his head with a thump and shoots up into the air, landing on the pool deck beside Momo and rolling away. Before Bakugou can even look to see who threw it, you guess in a bout of confidence, Kaminari laughs out loud. Sero gives him a look of complete terror.

“You don’t catch balls as good when they’re not hurdling toward some hot girl, Baku!”

The entire pool area gets quiet for a moment, and you see Kaminari’s face change the second he regrets his actions. Bakugou turns toward him slowly, and his hands – which he hasn’t had under the water since he landed on top of you – start to pop. Kaminari screams and lifts himself out of the pool faster than you’ve ever seen him do anything, but Bakugou grabs him by the trunks and pulls him back down, showing everyone his ass for just a moment before he’s pulled under the water.

Chaos ensues, and you are suddenly very happy they kicked you out of the pool.

“Why are they fighting?”

You jump a foot in the air, turning over to see Kirishima next to you, hair down and arm in a cast. He’s got on a gray shirt that says Crimson Riot in red, and he’s wearing his stupid swim trunks with fire going up the sides, but it doesn’t really look like he’ll be swimming today.

“Kirishima--! When did you get here? What’s wrong with your arm?!”

He chuckles, and looks back out the window at the two again, people already starting to push the two away from each other, or rather, Bakugou away from Kaminari.

“Prob’ly an hour ago. I rang the doorbell but your mom made fun of me for it because it’s a party and people just walk in.”

You see his face is a little red and you smile a little.

“She was just joking,” you say, and he looks back at you, worried, waving his hand that’s not in a bent cast around. “I know, I know! I know your mom’s not mean!! I-I just thought you’d think it was funny--!”

“I did,” you say, and he stops stuttering, and looks back out the window. You’re quite surprised – usually you’re the stuttery one around him. You hope, for a moment, that it means he likes you, but you can never know for sure unless you…

You shake your head. “So, what about your arm?”

He looks down at it, almost like he forgot it was broken. “I guess hardening doesn’t always get the job done.”

“Oh, Kiri, what happened?” You hope the nickname isn’t too buddy-buddy.

He doesn’t seem to notice, or else he does a good job hiding it, because he turns to you worried and stuttery again, waving his hand about a second time. “It was nothing, no big deal! Just some villain around town! But his quirk made him super fast, and I couldn’t harden in time!”

“So you can’t swim. What a pool party, am I right?” You try to say it nonchalantly, putting a hand on his shoulder for maximum coolness, but the second your hand touches the fabric of his shirt you realize that you never are cool, and that your personality doesn’t really fit with the body language, so it’s just awkward, and you’re focusing so much on your own hot cheeks and ears that you don’t notice Kirishima’s own.

“I-uh. Why aren’t you in the pool?” Him asking you a question gives you a perfect opportunity to – as casually as you can – take your hand off his shoulder. You realize, when it hits the air, how sweaty your hand had become, and you hope to God Kirishima doesn’t feel it on his shoulder.

“Bakugou broke my neck.” You joke, and Kirishima laughs. Finally, you feel a little less awkward.

“Sounds like him.” He says. “Did he apologize?”

“Of course not,” you say with a smile. “Kaminari even told him to. ‘They were in my way,’ he said.” You mock Bakugou in a silly deep voice.

“I woulda made him apologize!” Kirishima says excitedly, and you notice how freaking cute he is, puffing his chest out and pushing his thumb against it, his hair resting on his ears, forehead, and neck. He looks so cute with his hair down.

“Why didn’t you put your hair up today?”

“You don’t like it?”

He asked it to be funny, you can tell from his stupid smile, but of course you phrased it in the worst way possible.

“Th-that’s not what I meant! I-I…I was just wondering--!”

“I know what you meant.” He’s got a small smile, and you’ve never had such an overwhelming urge to give someone a huge hug. You just want to touch his shoulders and squeeze them, or grab onto his sides and never let go.

“It’s ‘cause I’m stupid. I didn’t think about the fact that I couldn’t swim until I got here,” he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck, and he’s so cute. That’s why he’s wearing his stupid trunks, too.

“You’re not stupid, it looks cute!” You blurt out before you think, but then your eyes get wide and so do his, and you feel the giddiness and shakiness in your limbs again as your whole head heats up. “Th-…thank you.” He says it quietly before looking back out the window at the pool.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re thinking so hard about how much you just fucked up, overthinking and spiraling, wondering if he’ll ever talk to you again—

“I’m really glad I came, even though I can’t swim.” You finally look over at him and he’s not looking at you but it’s very obvious his face is bright red. “I thought it would suck, because Bakugou is definitely gonna be outside, and I had to hang out inside and I can’t even play on the Switch with the others because of my arm, but I’m glad I came because I’m having fun.”

You absolutely, positively can’t believe he just said all that. You feel so light, like you’re about to float because of the balloon that’s blowing up in your chest, rubbing against everything inside you and causing you to feel an intense tickle that just won’t go away, one that makes you think sideways, one that makes it so you have to use every ounce of your being not to reach out and touch him.

“I’m glad you came, too. I love talking to you.” You’re surprised by your own honesty. “I can’t imagine being out there right now, I much prefer talking to you to anyone out there. Especially Kaminari, or Bakugou…”

Suddenly, the moment ends. “Let go of me, Dunce Face!” You hear right outside the window, and turn to see Kaminari dragging Bakugou to the sliding glass doors across the room from you. “C’mon, please, Jirou threatened me! We have to apologize to Y/N!”

Kirishima smiles at you. “Well, speak of the devil—” but you duck down behind the window, hoping neither of them saw you.

Kirishima is looking down at you with a close-mouthed grin. “What, you don’t want them to apologize? I bet it’d feel real good to hear those words come out of Bakugou’s mouth…”

You whisper-yell back at him. “I don’t care about Bakugou falling on me! I told you, I really don’t want to talk to them! They do this shit all the time, Bakugou being a dumbass and Kaminari saying some stupid inappropriate comment. Last time they ‘apologized’ to Ochaco, Bakugou attacked Kaminari and she got electrocuted!”

Kirishima covers his mouth and stifles a laugh before crouching down next to you. “It looks like you have to hide pretty quick then!”

“No, we have to hide pretty quick!”

“What?” He laughs such a cute little laugh. “Why me? What’d I do?”

“You had the misfortune of keeping me company up until now! You have to come with me! Be my bodyguard!”

He’s obviously having a great time right now, a much greater time than you are, a huge grin on his face and his eyes lit up like stars.

You two quickly sneak over to the hallway, and the knob on your sister’s door starts to turn, and for some reason that really freaks you out, because without thinking you grab Kirishima tightly by the hand and run into the closest room to your right, closing the door and turning back around to him.

Of course, in your irrational panic, you hadn’t thought about the fact that this is your bathroom and that you’d be alone with him in it, and when you look at his face, you see through his redness that he’s realizing the same thing you are. You start to open your mouth, whether to explain yourself or make things worse you don’t know, before you hear footsteps in the hallway approaching the bathroom. Your eyes meet in terror and instead of reaching over and locking the damn door, both of you dumbasses decide to run to the bathtub and hide behind the curtain.

You’re sitting at the back end of the tub, Kirishima sitting in front of you and leaning back into your lap, both of you facing forward, when the doorknob turns. You both stop adjusting and hold your breath.

Whoever opens the door takes one step in the room and barely closes the door behind them before Kirishima breaks.

“Don’t get naked! I’m in here!”

“Kirishima, is that you?” You hear Mina ask. “Why are you in here? Why would I get naked?”

His head pops out from behind the curtain on the front side of the bathtub, and you can imagine how funny it looks from Mina’s perspective. “I was just hanging out,” He says, so casually despite sitting in an empty bathtub fully clothed at a pool party.

“Are you okay?” Mina asks with real worry, and you feel so guilty for letting her think that he’s crazy.

“I’m in here too,” you say, popping your head out from behind the curtain on the back side of the bathtub, and, although you can’t see it from where you are, Kirishima visibly cringes.

“Aha!” Mina exclaims, pointing at you, “You two were--!”

You and Kirishima both have a meltdown before she can finish. Mixtures of ‘no no’s and ‘it wasn’t like that’s fill the room, before, without saying a word but with the biggest stupid smirk on her face, she turns and walks to the door. “Mina, stop! Please, I was just escaping from stupid freaking Lightning Boy! He was dragging along Bakugou, they wanted to apologize, and you know how that always goes! C’mon, Mina, you know it’s not like how you said.”

“Okay,” she says in the most sarcastic tone you’ve ever heard, showing you that she doesn’t believe a word you said. “Don’t worry guys, I won’t tell anyone.”

And with that, she opens, locks, and then shuts the door.

You look back at Kirishima, who’s leaning forward, free hand grasping the side of the tub.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, but then, unexpectedly, he laughs.

“Why are you sorry? Mina’s the one who doesn’t know how to knock!” You’re so confused as to why he’s laughing, especially because there’s no way he can’t be as embarrassed as you are right now, but he keeps laughing even harder. “She’s walked in on me peeing four times before! She just doesn’t learn her lesson!”

Awkwardly, he turns around to you, shifting his legs about so that they don’t hit you, only using his working hand to maneuver himself. His face is as red as yours but his smile is just as genuine as his laugh is. You’re taken aback by how beautiful he looks.

His laughing subsides and he wipes the small tears forming at the corners of his eyes before focusing back on you.

He’s staring at you now, and you’re staring back, and it’s so intense you feel like you’re going to explode. The feeling comes back, the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him more than anything, the only thought circling through your head being his lips, his face. In a small loss of self-control, your hands rise from your lap, but instantly you decide that’s not a good idea and play it off by resting your hands on his thick shoulders as leverage to stand up. You mumble something about betting that Kaminari gave up looking, but before you’ve even risen from squatting, Kirishima grabs you just below your upper arm and pulls you down to him.

Never in a million years had you imagined he’d kiss you, never in a million years had you imagined something could be so amazing. Nonetheless, your lips meet in a soft kiss, and the balloon in your chest explodes and butterflies release from it and fly all around your ribcage, and his hand that pulled you down moves up to your cheek to touch it so lightly you can barely even feel it. You can’t believe this is happening but you kiss back anyway, softly and slowly, and you move your hands from his shoulders to the sides of his neck. He sighs a content sigh, and you realize you had been holding your breath too, and when you two pull away, trying to finally pull yourselves together, his face is red and so is yours but his eyes are so red and so sure and so beautiful that you lean back in for another.

Finally, you two pull away for real, staring at each other like neither of you were expecting what just happened to happen. You wonder if he had felt the same way you did, using all his self-control not to reach out and touch you.

Both of you are quiet, so you say the first thing that comes to your head.

“I’m so glad Bakugou broke my neck.”

[the-deepestbluesareblack-fanfic]

CHAPTER (42) FORTY-TWO

Well, hello. If anyone is actually here to read this, thank you. 

Wednesday

August 14th, 1997

Cologne, Germany

Dave could hardly recall the events of yesterday. All he could remember was the grand blur of chugging coffee, racing to the airport in a caffeinated daze and landing on a cushioned seat in first class with a mop of giddy blond hair. Speaking in random slurs he can’t possibly recall from a mixture of melatonin still in his system and a downward spiral of a sugar high, he closed his eyes and didn’t register what or where he was.

He was in Germany and a day later, in his present day whirlwind, he just got off stage and played to one of the greatest German crowds in months. The enthusiasm and the yelling. Sweaty bodies rubbing and bumping against each other. Cries and smiles from blurry faces. It was a feeling Dave will never and could never put into the simplest words. It’s just a whole ‘nother world out there, he would always humbly say. You’d have to experience it to know.

But he was backstage, still running with a buzz that hung above his head, below his belt, down his arms and legs, and sent shivers up his spine. It was the adrenaline that could have him riding on this musical high until the next morning. He loved it though. He lived and walked the bare Earth for that mind numbing exhilaration. And, he didn’t just see it in himself. He saw it in everyone backstage. He saw it in his bandmates, in his friends, and crew. The show gave everyone a buzz. He lived for that.

Thankfully, the night wasn’t nearly over. It was simply getting started, they were in Europe for Christ sakes! It was Germany! None of the guys in the band even planned on going back to their hotel rooms and Dave wasn’t going to be the only one to do so. He had been to Europe countless times, but a successful night on stage in a country that is still completely foreign to him causes for a random act of celebration! Like every night in Europe has been for the Foo Fighters.

With four buzzing bodies piling into an SUV, yells falling from their mouths and their drinks grasped tightly to their hands, Taylor gave directions to where their requested destination and the car came to life, causing a sea of fans to spread out to make the road visible once again.

Dave felt a firm slap on the back from his sloshy friend Taylor, hollering in his face, “First show in Europe, so many more to fucking go! Parties, girls - this is gonna be the fucking best!”

“No, Taylor, no girls,” Nate lightly chuckled beside Dave, shaking his head and continuing to sip from his can of beer. Nate “The Saint” was always one to keep it classy and let himself have a good time with a few beers and his closest pals.  Unlike Taylor, who was never too scared to roll in anyone’s mud.

“Oh, that’s right. You and D are in love with your women, I forgot,” Taylor scuffed, but even Dave could hear and feel the many ounces of pain that were circulating Taylor’s mind, heart and bones. “Well, I plan to have some fun with a few ladies while I’m here.”

“And we expected more coming from you,” Pat joked with his always sassy eye roll and a quick inhale from his cigarette.

Dave was yet to speak more than five words to his bandmate about his own personal ordeal that went on only an hour before the show even began. Dave once experienced a phone call break up, but he was the one making the call not receiving it. Behind Taylor story, he only got broken up with about three hours ago. How he was handling it? The simplest way he could. Replacing an important lady with a lady he would never see again.

Dave wanted to reassure his pal that everything was going to be okay again, but Dave couldn’t foresee the future. Hell, Dave should be the last person in the vehicle to turn to Taylor and give him relationship advice. He couldn’t even call his girlfriend to ask her what the hell she has hidden from him. Taylor would only see Dave’s words as a joke, as he should because Dave did too.

What seemed like five seconds, when it was possibly longer or shorter - Dave wouldn’t know - the car hilted to a stop, the car turning off with the twist of a key.

“Ready to fucking party boys!?” Taylor yelled and without a response from anyone in the car, he lept out the door and was quickly submerged and gone in a great mass of people.

“You gotta talk to him man,” he heard Nate say from behind him. “That guy’s gonna explode.”

*

An hour before the show

Dave had a handy cell phone with him for months now, maybe longer, but what would he know about something he hardly knew how to use? Megan always contacted him through his house phone, never through his cellphone and to this day, he still didn’t even know how to turn it off and on. It was down to a complicated science.

Taylor on the other hand, had his cell phone pressed to his ear almost every second of the day. Who he was talking to? That was beyond Dave to know. He always gave random girls his number and he never knew for what reason because Dave never saw those girls again, and he was positive Taylor never did either.

So, as he sat with his small, portable contraption at his fingertips, twiddling it around, wondering if he should give Megan another call just to tell her more than a, “I just landed and I’m at the hotel….I love you, see you in a couple of days.” But he couldn’t. He was still shaking. With the notes and the intruder, God knows his toes were in hysterical shivers.

The show was in an hour and he was hiding away like he used to when Andrew used to roam the halls of random venues. He felt his mere presence, as though he were a ghost from his past, now haunting his present and affecting his future. Only Taylor knew where he was hiding out, and he would enter practically jumping on the very tips of his toes, always enthusiastic about a show. Dave was the same, but not today. Today he felt Taylor was too overly enthusiastic, and it wasn’t a secret to Taylor why Dave’s mood has declined just below the surface of the Earth.

“If it is Andrew, just ignore him. He’s just trying to scare you. He didn’t do anything before to cause you actual harm, what’s he going to do now?” was all Taylor told Dave in short of his comforting words. The only person he could talk to was Megan, but he couldn’t tell her about this. He couldn’t tell her that he went into her office to look for something to pin her as the bad person in this relationship to then telling her that Andrew is possibly trying to blackmail them. Dave knew she could already possibly die of shock.

A soft knock on the door brought Dave back to where he sat, and a slow moving Taylor entered the room and closed the door behind him softly. No jumping up and down, and no glowing smile to match his childlike antics. He sat himself next to Dave, let out a sigh and lit up a cigarette he had sitting behind his ear.

Puffing out the smoke, he turned towards Dave, who broke a new record for not talking to Taylor in hours - nearly the whole day.

“Jesus, buddy. Even when I’m clearly drowning in misery, you can’t even speak up one word about it,” Taylor said. As Dave was about to ask him what was wrong, because a Taylor that isn’t jumping isn’t a normal Taylor, the sad blond spoke up again, “Well I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I just got dumped over a fucking phone call.”

And now Dave’s perfect sphere of loved ones was tumbling down with him. He wasn’t alone - thankfully - but now everyone important in his inner circles were turning their backs on each other. Pat’s leaving the band, Megan is hiding something from Dave, Dave is hiding something from Megan, Margaret broke up Taylor, and Dave couldn’t even imagine what could even happen next.

“Buddy,” Dave croaked out, his throat dried up from not uttering a word all day, but he continued, “I’m sorry, man. I know you really liked her.”

“I did, man. I really did.”

It was back to silence. Dave wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask Taylor why the sudden stop to their relationship was, if it was something he did, or was it Margaret’s indecisiveness in being in a relationship with a musician. Dave couldn’t blame her. Megan ended it once, she had no problem with following in her previous footsteps again. The one of many things that worried Dave.

So, the silence continued, only the loud voices in their minds keeping them up and alert. Their emotions were running around in the air, Dave was surprised they hadn’t wrapped themselves around their necks and choked them to death. Maybe they were waiting to pop in their heads, cause a great commotion of wails and screams. That’ll be the day.

Dave checked his watch. The show was going to start in half an hour. He thought it was best to let his crew and the rest of the band know that he was alive and well, ready to put on the greatest show of their lives. The emotions on and off stage were different, and he was glad those two things could never be conflicted with each other.

He patted Taylor on the shoulder, he was still sitting in silence - shocked silence, “Come on, show starts in thirty minutes.”

Taylor nodded his head and slowly got up, putting his baseball cap back onto his head, but before he either could move towards the door, Taylor’s first words since announcing his sad news were, “The crazy thing is that she sounded so scared to even tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Dave asked.

“To tell me she wanted to break up with me. It was the only thing she told me. She didn’t tell me why. She just told me and hung up,” Taylor explained, so drained of life and emotion.

Dave didn’t know what to say, as he was drained of life and emotion from yesterday as well.

“Come on, let’s go have a drink or something. Get our mind off of these things.”

*

Virginia

There wasn’t much to be done on a Wednesday night in Virginia for two ladies, so a random scary movie, popcorn and wine to reminisce about the old days was just what Megan and Lisa were going to do for the night. They were ditched by Anna yesterday so she could be with her mother a few nights they were here, and Megan was begged by Anna and her mother to join them as well, but Megan wanted to think of the good ol’ days with Lisa. She missed Ginny and Lisa so much, the few women in her life that showed her the greater good in everything. The reasons she was thankful of Dave being the real man he is.

The few days weren’t going as bad as she had initially thought they would - a regular feeling upon arriving to the very familiar and unfamiliar grounds of Virginia. She got to spend some time with Ginny the night she arrived, devouring all the food she cooked for her and Anna. She always missed Ginny. Even if weeks had passed and she hadn’t spoken to her since visiting California and she hadn’t spoken one word to her since, once she gave her a hug and was welcomed back into her old home, she realized she missed her so much.

Tomorrow she was going to have lunch with her old boss Mark, just the two of them, in his new upscale office that he described to Megan over the phone just a few hours ago. In the past seven years, Mark ended up being the only friend she kept from Virginia. She had a few that she would call in birthdays every year when she got to California, but after the first year, she never heard from any of those people again, only Mark. She gave him a call every year on his birthday, for Christmas and New Year, and he could return the favor on her birthday as well. The last time the pair were face-to-face with each other was two years ago, when Mark took a vacation to Los Angeles for two weeks. Though, at the time, she was with Andrew and him being the type he is, controlled Megan when it came to other males; even if they were old friends for many years. So, she only saw him three days two years ago. They had plenty to catch up on.

But sitting in Lisa’s apartment, sharing stories from there many years apart, was another box to be checked off the list of bittersweet sensations since being with Dave again. And she knew there were going to be many more moments, and she couldn’t wait to experience them all. It gave her a reason to be happy to have him back in her life. It was fairytale-like for her, so unreal that it seemed so perfect and beautiful. She didn’t want to give it up. She wanted to feel this way for many more years.

Lisa nudged Megan with her elbow and slid the empty popcorn bowl towards her.

“It’s your turn to make some,” Lisa replied, sucking butter off her fingers, and keeping her eyes locked onto the television screen.

Megan got up, bowl in hand and happily pranced into the kitchen to make the third bowl of popcorn for the night. It was a much needed feeling of relaxation and no responsibilities that needed to be handled. She missed Dave, of course, but by now, a few days apart only made their days together the greatest. And she would be looking forward to them. A few days in Seattle with two of her and Dave’s closest pals, then a few days running in circles together back home with a day reserved in New York for the MTV Video Music Awards. Her first public appearance with Dave. A moment for the magazines and a moment to not screw up. How refreshing.

She threw the unpopped bag of popcorn into the microwave and let her fingers dance over the buttons to add a time. Leaning against the counter, dozing off into her own thoughts about her present and future with Dave, she hadn’t heard Lisa’s house phone ring or that she had answered it.

“Hey! Megan!”

Slightly jumping from the random burst of alertness, Lisa was waving her arms in the air from where she continued to sit on the floor.

“Y-yeah?” Megan weakly responded, slightly turning red from embarrassment. Being caught off guard was always a shameful moment for her. For some reason she always thought people could easily know what she was thinking.

“Dave’s on the phone for you,” Lisa chuckled, noticing Megan’s uneasiness from getting caught in her daydreams, but she quickly exchanged the reddened look for a smile and pranced her way back to reach the phone from Lisa’s hand.

Pressing into to her ear, she was eager and ecstatic to hear Dave’s hollering voice about how amazing it was to be back on tour, how beautiful the sea of German people singing and dancing along to their songs were, and how much he loved doing what he did. So, with as much enthusiasm as she could carry in her voice she spoke, “Hey, how was the show tonight?”

She re-entered the kitchen, not wanting to disturb Lisa who seemed highly focused on the poor film that was playing on the screen.

“It was a, uh- It was a good show,” Dave responded. When Dave failed to elaborate pass those few words, Megan’s back stiffened against the refrigerator she was leaning on. She heard many chattering voices in the background, even a far distant cry of thumping music. He clearly wasn’t in his hotel room, where he would usually give her a call after the show.

“What are you guys up to?” He proceeded to ask, and the lack of any emotion was so clear to Megan, she couldn’t form a sentence to answer his question.

“We’re just-” she paused for a second, the blaring beeps from the microwave bringing her back into Lisa’s kitchen, smelling popcorn that was overly cooked and burned black all the way through. “We’re just watching a movie, and I just burned the popcorn.”

“Oh, alright,” was all he said, almost as though he didn’t hear what Megan just told him. The usual, upbeat Dave would have laughed at Megan burning a simple bag of popcorn and calling her silly, but he ignored her. She felt as though she weren’t even on the phone with him. He cleared his throat and a hopeful feeling arose in Megan, “Hey, have you spoken to Margaret?”

She gritted her teeth in frustration. She didn’t know where this phone call was headed with its random awkward pauses and now a random question about her friend.

“No. Why?”

Another pause, then a sigh. It was good to know he wasn’t fully dead.

“No reason.” Another pause cut short when he said, “I’ll call you tomorrow, Meg. Bye.”

“Alright, bye. Love y-”

Flat line.

*

Cologne, Germany

Dave couldn’t even look at Taylor. He was angry, frustrated and disappointed. All three feelings were mostly aimed at himself, and all three were also aimed at Megan. She seemed fine, very relaxed. Nothing seemed wrong on that side of the world, but on this side, it was already flipping upside down. Everything was shaking and being crumbled very slowly, and he wouldn’t want to know what his world would look like it if it eventually got wiped out.

And his mind rambled onwards while sitting on a barstool with Nate, while Taylor wrapped both arms around gorgeous women every five seconds. He wanted Taylor to break down crying. He wanted Taylor to run out of this crowded room because his heart was practically in splinters. He wanted Taylor to call Margaret and beg to explain herself. He wanted Taylor to have some sort of compassion. Dave wanted him to because he didn’t want to be the weakest. He didn’t want to be the only one being pulled by a thread.

But there Taylor was. Buying drinks for girls and letting himself have a good time. Maybe it was because he wasn’t hurting or maybe because he wanted to forgot about Margaret, and the only way he could do that is if he acted like the old Taylor. Dave was hoping for the second option.

“Are you really going to let him do this to himself?” Nate asked Dave, Nate’s eyes locked on Taylor and the various girls he gathered in his corner. “His heart’s broke, Dave. It’s obvious.”

Dave dragged his fingers over his eyes and sighed. He slammed his forearms onto the wooden bar and shook his head to himself.

“What the hell am I going to do, Nate? Be his Fairy Godmother?”

Nate turned back to Dave, almost annoyed, he spoke, “Well, what’s wrong with you? You hid the entire time backstage and now you tried to seclude yourself in this bar. Paradise with Megan is over or something?”

He pressed his bottle of beer to his lips and mumbled against the rim, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Want to talk about it?” Nate sipped his own beer, curiosity getting the best of him.

Dave shrugged, keeping all conversations today with everyone short and brief. He didn’t want to interact with anyone. He still felt as though Andrew was spying on him from any corner of this small, over crowded place. For all Dave knew, he could have been at the show tonight. Anywhere in the entire venue.

“Shit’s just weird right now,” Dave announced, now letting it settle that subtle answers with Nate are hardly acceptable, even when it the main subject was Megan. Dave practically cried on Nate’s shoulder about Megan before Taylor was even part of the band. He knew Dave and Megan’s love story more than anyone else in Dave’s life. If anyone should know about any suspicious things between Megan and Dave, it should be Nate.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Dave. What is it?” asked Nate.

How could Dave put the past few days in simple words? He knew he couldn’t and he wasn’t even going to try. So he just shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled the only way he could express his change in everything. He slid the cryptic notes and photographic evidence towards Nate with the palm of his hand, feeling like his hand was on fire just by making the slightest contact with the withered pieces of paper.

He felt the same shaken sensation through the entire night, but he finally felt the shivers crawl up his spine every time he let his eyes hover over the sloppy letters.

What more could he do? Was there anything he could do? Andrew had him trapped. And he was more than certain it was him. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would want to watch his relationship fall into the depths of misery and sorrow.

“God,” he heard Nate say quietly, a tone of disgust wrapping around Dave’s ears, “This is just freaky. This guy’s a fucking creep.”

Nate shoved them back, with the very tips of his fingers, feeling the same burning ache that Dave felt too. Nate couldn’t recall ever letting his eyes fall on Andrew, but maybe he had, he just knew enough stories to know who he was and what he could do.

“What the hell does he want from you? It can’t be Megan. He fucked her over too many times to actually sabotage everything for you,” Nate stated, and Dave could only shrug his shoulders. He could never understand and probably will never understand why Andrew just couldn’t live in the back of his mind anymore.

After fiddling with his fingers for too long and growing tired beyond belief about absolutely everything, he decided to call it a night and head back to the hotel by foot. Not knowing the exact time or steps it’ll take him back to his destination, he ventured forth in his tattered clothes and heart.

He allowed himself to pass by drunk men whistling at women, couples feverishly kissing against street poles and homeless men and women begging for money, which he always kindly gave even if it was only just a simple quarter he had sitting in his pocket.

He let the foreign air run freely upon his skin. He hadn’t felt so vulnerable in so long. If Dave could calculate correctly, it probably had been months since he last felt himself slowly dissolve into nothing.

Maybe he deserved this. For every bad thing he ever did in the handful of years he didn’t see Megan. For failing to be a more helpful friend to Kurt, for hurting Jennifer in various ways throughout their marriage, for breaking Louise’s heart in such a vicious and careless manner, and for dragging Megan along all his deadly antics in just a few months.

It killed him on the inside to know that nothing truly bad could be going on in Megan’s life if he just stayed away. She was living a practically normal life with a man who wasn’t her Prince Charming, but she couldn’t see beyond his meaner aspects. She didn’t know and maybe it was meant to be that way. Maybe he wasn’t suppose to save her from her misery because she wouldn’t have to experience this heart wrenching battle that Dave had put through since slipping that letter into her mailbox. Maybe it wasn’t the way things were suppose to be.

Dave couldn’t hear a word from all his thoughts yelling at him at once, but when a soft hand wrapped around his left bicep and gave it firm, but gentle squeak, he was jumped out of his cruel thoughts and face to face with the stranger.

“Why is Dave Grohl, of all people, walking the streets of Germany all alone with a giant frown on his face?”

Dave was sure his face registered from sadness to utter shock in a split second when his eyes made contact with a very familiar pair of giant blue eyes.

“Oh m- Louise? What are-” Dave frantically looked around in his unfamiliar surroundings to realize no one was on this long, empty street. Only a very occupied couple across the street with their tongues down each others throat. “What are you doing here?”

“European festivals? We both play Bizarre Fest tomorrow, remember?”

Dave attempted to wipe his head clear of all the things he was thinking of while he was walking. “Right, right.”

Dave stood before her, and realized she was always a beautiful sight to look at. She always had a great, mystic wonder in her eyes and Dave could read stories off of them. But his mind was far off into the universe to even allow himself to reminisce for even two seconds. So he cleared his throat, in a frantic haze and said, “I gotta head back to my hotel. The show tonight completely drained me.”

Before he could turn around, without a goodbye, without even an explanation for his bad behavior only a few months ago, she squeezed his bicep again and said, “Have a drink with me. No bad blood, just a drink.”

He could have said no. The simplest word he would have told any other woman tonight if she was standing in front of him, but his knees were practically gravitating towards the ground. His heart was sunken so below his chest that it was pulling him towards the dirt of the ground, and it was beyond his control what his heart wanted to come out of his mouth, so with clear doubt and hidden future remorse, the words he spoke were, “Yeah, I could go for a few cold ones.”

And he wondered who was going to have a more eventful night: Him or Taylor.

[vt-scribbles]

In addendum to the thing I just posted from Mark:

The place where I differ from him is, well obviously, I’m nowhere near as big of a figure as he is. That, and one other huge thing. I used to only really care about pleasing others. I was an insecure new face on tumblr, and I was just figuring out my asexuality and was wondering if I was bigender or not. Eventually, of course, I settled comfortably on ‘no’ and stuck with He/Him pronouns, but chose to identify as Agender with masculine pronouns since plain ‘male’ didn’t suit me, but ‘female’ didn’t at all. Back then, I was worried that coming onto this site would be a huge mistake. I’d heard horror stories of Tumblr, and was hesitant to join. But, I’m glad I did, because I eventually met my best friend aside from Alfred, and would go on to start making The Harvester, a project that has brought me so much joy.

But let me give you a tale of caution. Back then, I was unhealthily focused on trying to make other people happy, regardless of what it did to me. It landed me in some unhealthy situations and ‘friendships’ that did more damage than good. I wound up in one particularly toxic ‘friendship’ where I did nothing but showered the other person in art and writing to please them; because if they were happy, I was happy. Eventually, though, I couldn’t give them all my attention. The art flow slowed, but I did try to keep contact every few days as much as I could. And then that friend vanished without a word, for a few months solid. People asked me where they’d gone, and I couldn’t give them an answer. I kept this person on skype, just in case. They never messaged me. Then, when they suddenly returned, I was so relieved. I messaged them on tumblr, and received no response. Sent asks. Nothing. I even drew this person a G/T picture for their birthday.

Nothing.

So I stopped trying. It was clear they were angry at me, but I had no idea why. I hesitantly unfollowed them, eventually, and they did the same within a few hours. I didn’t hear from them for almost half a year, until one day, they popped out of nowhere to message me. I thought perhaps they’d forgiven me for whatever it was I did to anger them. So I tried to pick up where we left off. I was given the cold shoulder. I asked if we could talk about what had happened, and I was given a rain check. The next day...

I received a letter.

This user, whom many of you have probably figured out if you’ve been around since the start or you know me well enough, shall remain unnamed. I have posted about them before, since this whole debacle, asking people not to ask me about them. I tried to be civil in that post, as it wasn’t my place to say anything about what happened between us.

But I feel like you should know what this letter did.

And if you’re reading this, and I know you know who you are, no. I don’t need your apology. I don’t want it. I never want to speak to you again.

This letter destroyed me for a while. It ripped into every insecurity I have, this person tore down everything I care about, everything that makes me happy, just shy of actually insulting my new friend I’d just started making. They tore apart The Harvester, Hema, my writing, told me that they only pretended to be interested in what we would talk about for hours on end, and they told me that I was exhausting. That being friends with me was exhausting. That our friendship ‘never meant anything to me’ like it did to them. Saying that I never cared to see what happened to them when they vanished for a few months, when I worried nearly every day if they were okay. And that’s just the damn tip of the iceberg.

And so, feeling like all this was my fault, I apologized, and we went our separate ways. And as much as that letter ate away at me, I kept it to myself. I didn’t want anyone to worry. I didn’t want anyone to go after this person. It was my fault, after all.

Or so I thought. Because months later, mere days before this person deactivated their account here on tumblr, they came back to me. They tried to spin this whole spiel about how they behaved the way they did because I was their first platonic crush. Now, I believe they did have a platonic crush on me, but that’s not the damn point. If that’s how they treat someone they have any sort of crush on, then I pity the next person they want to have a relationship with. Because when I got slightly bitter that they came back to me after laying that letter on me, just to try and excuse their behavior by saying ‘lol sorry it was the crush making me crazy’, they turned and said that ‘I didn’t mean most of what I said in that letter. I just said that stuff because I was mad and wanted to hurt you.’

Well congrats.

You did.

I hope that makes you happy. You fucked up what little trust I had been working SO HARD to build back up after years of having it abused. You fucked up my faith in my friends, you made me doubt that ANYONE likes talking to me, and you made me think that not only was my writing shitty, my gemsona/OC was shitty, and that I was a horrid, exhausting waste of space... Was this your intention? Did that near year of pampering you with art and thinking about you EVERY day just not do it for you? Was that not enough to satisfy that platonic crush of yours? Did you want me to give you every fucking moment of my life, and abandon my other friends to please you? Is that why I could never make you happy?

You broke something inside me. And I’m still trying to fix it, to this very day. I have depressive spells every time I think of you, I get sent into a downward spiral of ‘nobody actually likes me, it’s all just an act and my writing and friendships are all empty and shallow.’ I got nothing positive out of our ‘friendship.’ All I came out of it with was a newfound lack of trust towards anyone, and a bitter taste in my mouth. That, and now I struggle almost every week with any sort of confidence in my writing, especially when it comes to The Harvester; something that you said just made you SO angry to see me talk about that you had to keep blocking everything about it until you just unfollowed me entirely. You were never happy for me. You were never even a shred supportive. I tried to share something similar with you. We could have had a whole thing going with the Pokemon fic we tried to start. But, again, you were never interested in that. You said so yourself.

But even with all this negativity. All this bad taste left in my mouth.

I’ve tried to be respectful. I know about your other account you made, and happened to delete recently. I never called you out because I wasn’t going to stoop to that level. And, guess what, I’m still not going to. I know where you went, and what your new persona and everything was. But I’m not going to go revealing it to the world. I’m not as much of a vindictive monster as you seem to have made me out to be. I just want to sit in my corner with my friends and write and draw things that make me and my friends and the people who follow me, happy. You probably won’t see this unless you check in on my blog now and then, but if you do, I’ll say it again. I don’t want to speak to you. You need to take this all into account as you move forward with other friendships. I don’t wish you any ill will. I still hope that you find happiness in life, and that you can figure things out. Just so long as I’m not part of that picture. I can’t be. If you’re reading this, you know who you are. If you’re reading this and you’ve been around since my first year here on tumblr, you know who I’m talking about. And now you know a bit more about what happened, and why any art I made for them is gone from my account. Don’t go hunting this person down, and if you ever come across them or you’re in contact with them, do not go white-knighting. That’s not what I’m asking for.

This was merely a cautionary tale of what aiming to do nothing but please someone else [other people] can lead do. They get complacent, they get spoiled, they start to act entitled.

And that brings me to the positive side of this.

Since that whole incident... I’ve moved forward with my life. I’ve become closer with my friends like Alfred or Corrie, Corrie and I have REALLY hacked away at The Harvester and made it into something that, personally, we think is amazing, and only continues to get better as we improve our writing and storytelling. Our art has made such strides since working on this project, and between projects with Alfred and then TH, I’ve been able to see not only my own work improve in leaps and bounds, but I’ve been able to see my friends grow alongside me. And that’s incredible.

And... that sort of brings me to what I meant to talk about here in the first place. My sentiments line up with Mark in a big way in that... Corrie and I, by a stroke of fate, have created something that not only has brought us so much joy in life, but it has the power to move other people too. You guys have created fanart and videos, you’ve cosplayed, you send us dozens of messages each month, and some of you have even said that this story gives you something to look forward to each week. And that’s... incredible. It’s all incredible. We are both blessed with the ability to bring happiness to other people’s lives with something that we both ADORE working on and putting energy into. We love The Harvester SO much, and to see anyone share even a fraction of that passion... is so inspiring. We talk on a weekly basis about how, if people stick around with TH and keep being inspired by it enough to create things, that we’re going to get to see you guys grow. As people, as artists, as writers. And that’s incredible. We’re in this position where... something we made for fun, just to pass the time, turned into something that has inspired people. It turned into what we never could have expected. Something that others enjoy; they genuinely and whole-heartedly enjoy it. These people have no stake in getting free art from me or attention, not in the same way that others who have used me in the past do. They’re here for the story, the characters, the art we happen to post alongside TH. There are people in our community whose passion rivals that of our own. It’s... surreal. In the best way.

We understand that we can be a bit intimidating. But, we just want you to know that the excitement you feel when you see that we’ve updated, or that we’ve responded to your ask or commented on your fanart or followed your fan-side-blogs... that’s the same excitement WE feel when we SEE your fanart, your dedicated side-blogs, your posts in the Freckledot’s Archives tag or The Harvester tag. We get this rush of “!!! Look! They made a thing! They made a thing because we made a thing! They’re creating too, look at it!!!” And, sometimes it’s hard, as a fan of something, to convince yourself that you’re not an embarrassment or a burden. Believe me, we’ve BOTH been in that position. But know that we’re just as excited to see you guys grow and stuff as you are to see TH grow.

The mere fact that Corrie and I have this... thing that we’ve made. The fact that it even came into existence... baffles us. It was a stroke of pure fate. And that’s something you need to remember, yourself. Every creator wants their own TH. They want their own passion project that they can share with people and get excited over. And, sometimes, that feels like that’ll never happen. I know I felt like that for most of my life. I had my stories I could share with Alf and that we could write together... but at the time, those were just the buds of a writing hobby. I love them to DEATH and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, but back then, we had no plans to really share them. We wanted to make one of our stories into a movie, but had to set it aside for highschool homework. And then as things went along, I felt like I’d never have “the one” to share with everyone. The first big project to pour my heart into, either with someone or not, and then hesitantly put out into the world to be judged by others. But it happened. It’s happening right now, and I relish every moment of it. We both do.

So. Thank you. Genuinely, and sincerely, thank you. To those who have been following TH from the start, to those that’ve joined us along the way. To those who have stumbled across it and marathon’d it from start to current day. To those who send messages or theories or make art or 3d models or who leave thoughtful messages on the story or on art they reblog. To those who maybe even haven’t kept up, but they still like the story regardless. To those in the future who will join in this little community we have, surrounding a simple SU fanfiction that grew into so much more...

Thank you.

You inspire us to continue moving forward, and you give us hope that maybe the things we create are worth more than we often doubt they are. You inspire us as much as we inspire you, and that’s the truth. You haven’t turned this into something that we just do to please you, and that means more to us than we can express. You’re all so great and we can’t wait to see where you all are at at the end of TH, whenever that may be, years down the road. We may not be able to give every person the attention they want or deserve, especially as things continue to grow... but know that we do see things, and you’re not just posting to the void, only to be judged. We wouldn’t have a dedicated fan tag if that were the case. <3

But, I have rambled on long enough. If you took the time to read this... bloody hell, good on you. You get a cookie and a hearty nudge in the shoulder from me.

And that is all I have to say for now.

Sincerely,

- VT

[emo-rejects-archive]

Prompt of Momo Yaoyorozu gaining weight to improve her quirk, but accidentally getting too much into it and being unable to go back, becoming the biggest slob at UA.

(If I have to write slob Momo one more time I swear on God

Thanks for the ask! Don’t be afraid to send in another!)

Where did it all go wrong for her?

When Momo Yaoyarozu had first enrolled into U.A, she had been a svelte, yet curvaceous young women. Her body was the eye candy her male peers, and the envy of her female classmates. Along with a physically perfect body, she had also been gifted with an intelligent mind, maintaining some of the highest test scores in U.A history, and she was only a first year at that!

However, there was one issue with Yaoyarozu; her Quirk, Creation.

Momo had been gifted with the ability to create any form of matter via the use of fat cells in her body, but that was the problem. Despite possessing full hips and round breasts, the rest of Momo’s body was quite thin, so she couldn’t make very good use of her Quirk.

There was only one thing that her teachers at U.A could prescribe her to do... Gain weight.

Of course, they did tell her that she only really needed a few kilograms and not to “overdo it”, but in spite of her genius mind, Momo didn’t catch that part. She had already set her mind on bulking up.

It started out simple, but difficult at first.

During lunchtime, Momo would stack her tray high with various foodstuffs that the U.A cafeteria served, and she would gorge herself silly. This would of course leave her with a nasty bloat in her middle, one that remained on her figure for the rest of school afternoon. Often she would have to excuse herself to the bathroom so that she could undo the buttons on her school uniform and give her stuffed abdomen a few much needed rubs, belching out any built up gas in privacy. Her teachers weren’t necessarily pleased by having to let their star student miss a few minutes of class everyday, but if it was for the betterment of her Quirk, then they were fine with it.

After a few weeks, Momo started showing results. Her stomach was the biggest focus of her new gains, going from slim and trim, to soft and pinchable, a puffy muffin top that nicely split out of the exposed opening of her hero costumes leotard. Her breasts and butt got a little fuller as well, but not quite as major as the chub that had accumulated on her tummy.

With a little more fat on her, Momo was finally making better use of her Quirk, and her scores during Hero training exams actually started improving. Her teachers were proud of how much progress she had made in a relatively short amount of time.

And she could’ve stopped there.

And yet... She didn’t.

Having come from a prideful and wealthy family, Momo had always been expected to uphold certain mannerisms that came with high society, so when she had finally been given the opportunity to indulge, it had... Awakened something within her.

Some of her closest friends voiced their concerns when they saw that she was still overeating even though she had gained a necessary amount of weight, but she brushed them off, assuring them that everything was “under control”.

It wasn’t.

If anything, things continued to downward spiral from there.

By the time summer came, Momo was well over a hundred-and-fifty kilos, making her the heaviest student in all of U.A, far outclassing some of her more muscular peers. But her body was anything but muscular. Momo Yaoyarozu had transformed herself into a big chunky butterball, one with a big, round belly that had popped off the buttons of her summer uniform and hung over the waistband of her skirt, and enormous breasts, ones that couldn’t be contained any bra, each tit easily bigger than her head. Even her cheeks had gotten pudgier, along with a second flabby chin that had sprouted underneath her first.

Due to the warm summer air and being quite the hefty young women, Momo sweated like crazy, so much so that her uniform was drenched in moisture from after simple walks from the cafeteria to her classroom. This of course had caused her to earn the ire and disgusted looks from her classmates. Even her teachers started to hold her in lower regards after catching her snacking in class on multiple occasions

The nail really got hammered into the coffin when one day she finally broke a chair with her plentiful rear.

But did that stop her from gaining? Was she finally embarrassed enough to slow down?

Nope.

If anything, her weight gain increased in speed.

Months passed, and the kilos kept piling on to Momo’s increasingly heavy frame.

Two-hundred-and-thirty, two-hundred-and-seventy, three-hundred-and-fifty...

By the time the leaves were falling and the weather was cooling down, Momo Yaoyarozu had reached half of an American ton. She was quite easily the fattest woman in all of Japan, maybe even the world at large, and she wasn’t even done with her first year at U.A. She could barely waddle about, having been forced to use her Quirk to create a mobility scooter to ferry her around campus. Even then, her mountain of lard that she called a stomach still occasionally dragged against the floor.

No article of clothing could even come close to fitting her anymore, the only thing keeping her somewhat decent being her many times resized hero costume. “Somewhat decent” was actually an understatement, given that Momo’s boobs were such monstrosly huge piles of flesh that parts of her thick dark nipples were left exposed. Her cleavage was a literal canyon on her behemoth body, one that worked well as a storage space for any extra snacks or I chewed bits of food.

Every time someone caught wind of her coming down the halls, she’d be given a wide berth, one reason being that Momo herself was a very wide person, the other...

Due to her morbid obesity and near constant gorging, Momo’s digestive tract had become rather overtaxed, either expelling a powerful belch to fly out of her lard swallowed throat or a rancid fart to trumpet out of her flat chunky ass every other second.

With all of the gas she created, a lingering stench and warmth lingered in the air around her, making it impossible for other students to hang around her without feeling sick. The heat of her flatulence caused her body to sweat pour down from her numerous chin folds to her useless plump feet by the gallons, and it even made her lengthy black hair frizzy with grease.

Because Momo had gotten so fat that she could only really think about food. This of course caused her grades, what she had been known for throughout U.A at one point in time, to drop considerably. The only real reason that she hadn’t been kicked out of U.A yet was because of her Quirk. At her current size, Momo could create tanks, helicopters, and even missiles if she so desired.

And she was only going to keep getting bigger.