#same with two feathers i feel like i have been very offensive using him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

call-me-copycat · 2 years ago

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I'm so mad! I saved the ask sent to me, but it disappeared when I went to check on it! I do hope they know that I finished it, but now I'll make sure to screenshot every ask when I get them so this doesn't happen again!

Hello and thank you for your request! Please don't ever worry about being too much, I love writing complex stories, they're my favorite!

I'm very sorry this is so late, I've been rather busy for awhile, but lately I've been cranking out as much writing as I can! I sat down and wrote for 4 straight hours, so I'm sorry if it feels a little rushed!

Also, I don't know if it's okay with you or not, but I made it a little horror themed, it's not the main theme, but it's still there in case you didn't want that (๑////๑)

Please feel free to pop by and request whenever you'd like! It makes my day! (ृ´͈ ᵕ `͈ ृ )

♡ ••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ♡°°°♡ ••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ♡

Declaration of Distortion

Welcome! - Introduction and request rules (if you want me to write for you, or if you want to know who I am)

▶ Characters: Mentor Aizawa & Gender-Neutral Reader (platonic) + Shinso & GN Reader (platonic)

▶Genre: A little bit of horror+ some fluff sprinkled around

▶ Summary: A courageous reader with striking white wings and a powerful quirk falls victim to a malicious mushroom spore quirk. Along with many others, they are ruthlessly mind controlled and forced to battle numerous heroes, and their own mentor Aizawa, a formidable hero in his own right.

▶ Warnings:

- Some body horror if you think about it

- Unconsented Mind Control (Not Shinso)

- Decay/Rotting flesh (for a moment at the end)

- Blood/Wounds (Not too graphic)

- Paranoia/Mental Instability

- Infection due to process of a quirk

- Per the request, the reader has wings

- While there is no romance, there is still platonic love

▶ Word Count: 15,420

(The Mother of all my stories. My phone/Tumblr crashed a total of 13 times while trying to post this. In case you didn't know I only have a budget phone that works similar to a brick)

"Ready... Start!"

Upon hearing Eraserhead's signal, both you and Shinso lunged forward at the same time, fully content with the goal to bring the other down.

It was a muggy day, the clouds always filling the sky and casting their shadows over the little seaside town. Wet droplets of the previous night's rain still clung to the blades of grass that you all were training on.

Aizawa had recently taken you under his wing alongside Shinso, and had been training the both of you excessively for the past few weeks in order to prepare the two of you to join alongside him during patrol. He was being extra cautious, as he knew that underground hero work was much more hazardous and unpredictable compared to regular hero work, and he wasn't going to lose either of his students.

Worried for the both of your guy's safety, Aizawa wanted to implement extra training and taught you many techniques in case things were to ever go south, too filled with paranoia to recognize the signs of exhaustion the two of you were dealing with due to the extra work.

Watching the both of you train with stern eyes, Aizawa was beginning to notice large improvements, not just in one but in the both of you. Shinso no longer went straight ahead when fighting or throwing a punch, and you no longer tripped over your wings nearly as much as when you first began.

The wings were your entire quirk, and oddly enough you didn't really use them to fly (no matter how much you trained, you struggled to stay aloft), but they were rather a mix of offense and defense. Large and white, they had the ability to solidify into metal, creating a sort of shield to protect you and others if needed, and- in a similar manner to Hawk's quirk- the individual feathers had the ability to shoot off as projectiles. Although they weren't nearly as sharp at his, they still gave a nasty sting as they flew with the speed and force similar to that of a bullet.

Currently, Aizawa was having you both train on hand to hand combat without the use of quirks (although you didn't believe it was all that fair at Shinso was allowed to use his metal staff). The reason being Aizawa wanted to check up on the progress the two of you were making, wanting to determine the place you were at so he could adjust future training lessons accordingly.

As soon as Aizawa gave his order, Shinso lunged and swung his staff at you immediately, trying to catch you off guard. It was in vain however as you tilted your head to the side which made him miss, combined with the fact that you had to swerve your body to the side as well to dodge his additional kicks.

Frustrated, he swung his leg up at your head, and in an act of panic you grabbed onto his ankle to keep it from making contact. This in turn caused you to fall to the ground on your stomach as he lowered his foot, and you nearly got jabbed with his staff as he stabbed it down at you like he did earlier.

You went to attempt to stand up again, as it was commonly known that whoever was on the ground was most vulnerable. Shinso knew this as well, and fought to keep you down by putting his staff under your leg and flipping you over and onto your back so he could gain the upper hand, since if you were on your stomach then your wings would protect you and only serve to get in the way. Irritated, you tried jumping up onto your legs, only for your jump to be interrupted by him swinging his staff at your head, which kept your upper torso on the ground as you needed to dodge, while your legs were bent in a sort of crab-walk pose.

*Kind of like this (this is what I went off of)

Contorting your body so the staff wouldn't make contact (you knew from personal experiences that it hurt severely), you moved to the side as he lunged at you again with the staff, and this time you grabbed it to keep him from moving it. When he went to pull it out of your grasp, you clung on and used it to your avantage to get up from the ground again, the extra weight on the end of the staff causing Shinso to lose his grip. Throwing away the staff so Shinso couldn't get it, you looked directly at him (trying not to laugh at his exasperated expression), and the two of you went to lunge at each other again, but right before the either of you could get a hit in you both instantly halted as Aizawa blew his whistle, indicating he had seen enough and that the exercise was over.

You had both succeeded Aizawa's expectations, and so he decided that you two were ready to accompany him on his patrol. Although paranoia still clung to his thoughts, Aizawa knew that you were well trained enough to protect yourselves in case of an accident. He had seen the effort that you two put in when it came to surpassing his training checkpoints he made when it came to teaching the both of you, and he certainly wasn't going to turn a blind eye to the sheer exhaustion that you suffered since you were pushing yourselves.

On the walk back to the dorms, Aizawa began to explain what things you and Shinso should expect when it came time for the mission. As he listed off the numerous precautions and emergency procedures, you couldn't help but get lost inside your own mind, the beauty of the post-storm environment radiating a calm tone.

The sun was beginning to set as it was late in the evening, you all had been training together as soon as school was let out, and in a way you were grateful that the weekend was tomorrow (although you knew chances were you might end up training even more).

The golden rays of the lowering sun were making their way through the numerous plants and buildings that filled the UA campus, everything glittering with a lovely shine from surfaces that were still wet with drops that were caused from the recent storms that had been going on lately. Birds made their way overhead every now and then, and the air was quiet and calm, the only sounds filling the air being Eraserhead's monotonous voice and the light steps the each of you took.

You were currently balancing on the slightly higher edge of the sidewalk, hanging your arms out to the side in the shape of a "T" to help you balance further as you walked and listened intently to Aizawa speak. Shinso was walking beside you, grumbling to himself everytime your wings got in his face (you knew he didn't mean any harm- besides, you liked messing with the guy).

As Aizawa continued the mundane speech about hero safety and villain techniques to look out for, something he said caught your attention.

"- of course, a student isn't expected to completely fix the situation themselves, but it is worth noting that all student interns are given high expectations. Now that that's out of the way, let me explain the mission that we're going to be looking for."

Aizawa turned to look behind him at the two of you, face hardened and serious. The once light-hearted mood plummeted and took a more solemn face instead, and you hopped down from where you were standing, going beside Shinso.

"This case is more of a serious one compared to what the others are working on. Lately, I'm sure you've heard from the news about the numerous missing people, yes?"

Upon reviving two silent nods, Aizawa continued, arms crossed and fatigue pressuring him persistently.

"Now, we don't know anything about what these missing people have in common, only that they were by themselves and didn't arrive back where they were heading. Another thing they all had in common was the fact that they disappeared away from any witnesses and cameras, meaning that whoever is behind this knows what they're doing and is actively planning it out."

Shinso raised his hand, speaking right after Aizawa paused.

"When I saw that case on the news, didn't they say that all the victims had some kind of strong quirk? Maybe-"

Aizawa cut him off, shaking his head.

"Sorry, but that's just a rumor. Looking over each of their files showed that most had weak quirks, with only a small handful having semi-useful quirks. Some were even quirkless, so that crosses out that idea."

When you thought back on it, you realized that you had indeed saw a news report on this particular case, but it was so vaguely described that you didn't really see any difference in it from the other numerous cases that had happened in the past. Nothing really stood out to you, and you were surprised that Shinso had even paid attention enough to remember it.

"We thought it was a lost cause, with cases popping up randomly without pattern and without a targeted victim, it was nearly impossible to try and get close to solving it. But recently, a woman that had fallen victim to this mystery fortunately had a tracker implanted behind her ear since she was prone to wandering off because of her unstable mental state." Aizawa paused, letting you both take in the info since he was worried he was coming off too fast.

"So that means... We can track down the woman.." you began.

"And possibly find out where the others might be as well." Shinso finished for you.

"Bingo. Tomorrow, get plenty of rest during the day because we'll be starting as soon as the sun sets, and my work schedule is often unpredictable and can leave us working throughout the night and until the sun rises again. I'll explain what we'll be doing beforehand, and feel free to ask any questions if you have them. Better safe than sorry."

When you made you way back to the dorms, it finally hit you. You were finally going on your first mission tomorrow! Too filled with nerves and excitement, dinner was one of the last things crossing your mind as you went up to your room instead, politely greeting your classmates beforehand.

You stayed up most of the night contemplating on what might happen, and what things you might run into. Sleep was non-existent, and you wanted to make sure that you were mentally prepared and to especially make sure you wouldn't slow everyone down. Shinso and Aizawa were rather talented at keeping themselves hidden in the shadows, but you struggled to keep of up with their abilities at times, your wings that normally held you up high being the thing that slowed you down and limited your abilities.

With newfound determination, you took to the internet to look up how others in the world delt with their wings, as it was pretty common to run into someone with some type of them, always a little different from each other. You found a few online blogs that helped you understand the limits and anatomy of wings, but none that specifically stated how to sneak around with them. Regardless, you still were going to help in any way you could, and so all night you stayed up preparing.

It wasn't until an alarm went off on your phone that you realized it was morning, and when you went to open your curtains a bright stream of sunlight hit you directly in the eyes, cementing your realization. Since you spent all night awake, your body and mind were both exhausted from the intense training and lack of rest. After eating a quick meal and greeting your classmates once more, you finally succumbed to sleep, allowing yourself to fly away in the dark depths of your mind.

"Bzzt..."

Grumbling, you opened your eyes to be greeted with nothing but pitch black darkness. For a quick second, you almost went back to sleep as you thought you set your alarm incorrectly, only to immediately jump up at the realization.

A quick knock on your door further helped you remember what was planned, and Shinso's voice spoke up right after.

"Turn off your damn alarm, it's been going off for ages. Also Sensei said he wants you to get ready 'cause we're leaving in an hour."

And with that you concluded that he must have left, before scrambling for your phone to turn off the repeating tune coming out of it.

After getting into your hero outfit and grabbing your duffle bag full of supplies, you left your room and went down to the common room in search of Shinso. Once you made your way down there, you instantly saw Shinso and Aizawa both already there, Aizawa sitting on the couch and Shinso standing in front of him, both holding a conversation that came to a slow when you came into the picture.

Embarrassment rushed through you as you began to think that you were the last one finished and that they were both waiting on you this whole time.

"Sorry if I'm late, I didn't know we were supposed to get up earlier. It won't happen again."

Aizawa cocked an eyebrow, "You're not late? You and Shinso are both on time. That gives us enough time to prepare and possibly get some breakfast in the both of you since you're still children who don't just run on a stale cup of coffee like me."

Ah, that made a little more sense, Shinso must've just finished up a bit earlier than you did. You blamed your awkward conversation on your nerves, not knowing how to get them to calm down.

"I know a good shop around here that's still open, it's run by an old friend of mine, so he'd know why we're there since I've been going there before going on patrol or on a mission since I first started."

You and Shinso nodded again, and as you all walked out of the dorms Aizawa began to catch on to your nervousness. Leaning over so he could get closer to you, you noticed this and listened.

"You know, Shinso's just as nervous as you are. He just doesn't show it since he's worried about coming off as weak." Aizawa whispered to you in an attempt to reassure you. Your eyes widened at this and looked at Shinso who was walking ahead of you two, completely oblivious to the conversation.

"Don't worry about a thing, kid. I've seen you train, you'll be okay", Aizawa reassured, patting a firm hand on your shoulder before walking off to lead you all.

This news helped you understand that you weren't the odd one out, and your nervous thoughts calmed down a little upon realizing this.

After waking for a bit, you and Shinso were brought to a little food stand, being run by only a single elderly man. Upon noticing Aizawa and the two of you behind him, you noticed his face light up.

"Shota! How are you, my old friend?", Turning to look behind Aizawa, the man took a glance at you and Shinso standing behind him. "And who are these little ones that follow you like a duckling would to their mother?"

He had a warm, friendly smile, and didn't seem the slightest bit tired when compared to the dark night sky. Though he spoke with a bit of an accent, you found that he was still easy to understand.

"They're students of mine. We're going on a mission soon and they needed something to eat."

Once again, slight embarrassment caused you to warm as it sounded like Aizawa was referring to little children when speaking about the two of you even though he's seen the work you put in to train. Turning to Shinso, you noticed that he was unbothered, simply scanning the little sign that advertised all the foods that the man made with a look of disinterest.

"Oh, yes! Young ones need to eat, it's very important! I'll make something for them, know anything you'd like?"

"I'm good."

And with that, you followed Shinso and sat down next to him on a bench that was placed behind the food stand.

After getting some warm soup to fill your stomaches, Aizawa led you to his office at a special institute for underground heroes, seeing as he never bothered in getting an agency of his own even though he's been offered many times in the past.

Once you both arrived, Aizawa went over the plan with you and Shinso, trying to get you both as used to how things ran over there as a real underground hero as possible.

After about 20 minutes of going over the plan, the hour of prep time you had initially started with was almost up, and things had to be started soon.

The plan was set. Since missions normally don't get solved in a day (especially mystery ones such as the one you were assigned), the first day would typically be a simple search for any clues and witnesses, just gathering as much information on the topic as you can. The 2-5 days after will typically be when things start getting put together, and any days after that would be when direct action will take place.

This was a rough template to go off of as every mission is different than the other, but Aizawa needed to give you guys something to go off of for reference.

Aizawa had pinpointed the target's location of the lady that had the tracker implant, and found that she was in a cave of some sort, possibly since it would be a smart hiding place seeing as that cave in particular was deep and had been infamous in the past for getting people sick due to the mold and mushroom spores that filled it.

With this newfound information, you three geared up and trecked to the forest, minds sharp and clear, ready for anything that was thrown at you.

It was quite a walk there, and by the time you reached the forest your legs were starting to feel a bit sore, but nevertheless you continued on, pushing past overgrowth that tickled and scratched at your legs.

Aizawa was walking in front of you with the tracker in his hand and was focusing intently on it while his other hand pushed the meddlesome plants to the side as he walked. Shinso walked to the side of him, trying to do what he can and show off any skills of his, although all that the two of you could do at the moment was simply walk and follow.

Watching Aizawa for any signs of being near the location, you both came to a stop when he did, looking around for any signs of a cave. Despite looking around, all you saw was lots of plants and other undergrowth, and not the slightest sight of any cave nearby.

You saw Aizawa do the same thing, look around and shake his head in confusion. He turned around and walked back to see if he missed anything, you and Shinso following obediently. Aizawa shook his head again, muttering to himself as he turned around as walked back again, this time Shinso spoke up.

"What's the matter?"

Aizawa stopped and sighed, turning the tracker towards the two of you. Looking at the blinking dot and the one that indicated you three, it seemed as though you had already reached the cave. Looking up, you still didn't see any signs of a cave nearby, and now worry was starting to eat away at you.

Aizawa grumbled, "I don't know if it's bugged or if someone purposely messed with it. If we don't find anything then we'll have to go back."

Your stomach dropped when he said that. You had been looking forward for this mission for the longest time, and now there was a possibility for it to end before it even started?

Seeing the other two begin to make their way back, you panicked and tried catching up to them. However, your wings weren't fit for the forest as it was dense with growth from the recent storms that had been happening lately.

Your wing got caught up on a vine, and the thorns caught onto it further as you tried pulling it away. Tugging with all your might, you ripped your wing free, only to fall flat on your face, sliding a bit from the tugging.

Aizawa and Shinso heard the commotion and turned to see you fall, rushing to go help. Trying to stand up and not get any further entangled, you stepped back from a cluster of sticky plants, only to feel a dip behind you, sending you falling backwards as you were on the top of a slope.

A little like that ⁠(⁠･⁠◡⁠･⁠)⁠/

You heard Aizawa and Shinso shout your name, sliding down skillfully after you so they can help. You slid on your back, hardening your wings so they'd protect you as you continued down the slope. The ground was still damp, and the wet soil and plants made a perfect mixture for sliding a long ways down without stopping.

You finally slid all the way down into a sort of ditch that had stagnant water sitting on the bottom, but luckily for you the numerous plants that swallowed the bottom of it protected you from the water and provided a soft cushion for you to fall onto.

Landing upside down, you struggled to get back up onto your feet as your hardened wings stuck into the wall of the trench. Tugging them out, you finally managed to sit up into a crouch. You heard Aizawa and Shinso calling out to you, and just as you were about to call after them, something in the trench caught your eye.

There was an oddly shaped cluster of plants on the wall of dirt, and nowhere else. You would've brushed this away normally, but maybe since the adrenaline was still coursing through you it made you extra alert.

Standing up and patting the dirt and crushed plants off of you, the reached over and hesitantly pulled at the plants, only to see that they were purposely tied and braided together to create a net or mesh to cover something when you took a closer look.

Now confident that something was up, you pulled off the net cover, and found the entrance to a large opening in the wall. You had found the cave.

Looking behind you, you shouted to the other two, "Guys! I found it!". You wanted to run towards them, but stayed since you didn't want to lose track of the cave.

Aizawa was the first to shout, "Found what?!"

Behind him, Shinso was panting as he slid down the rest of the slope next to Aizawa, careful to not accidentally fall into the ditch like you.

They made their way to where you were, and Aizawa skidded into the ditch where you were without hesitation, immediately going over to you and checking you over for injury. Shinso slid in a little more hesitantly after Aizawa, and went over to you to flick you on the forehead.

"Idiot. Only you can slide down a hill and into a wet ditch."

You rubbed your forehead, then remembered and gestured to the opening you found.

"Look! "

"What is it?" Shinso asked jeeringly.

You huffed a bit, not in the mood to deal with his teasing.

"It's the cave! I found it, so we don't have to go back!"

Aizawa silently approached the entrance, and looked down at the tracker to see that the dots perfectly aligned this time. He rubbed the back of his neck, still a little apprehensive due to the glitch out that happened earlier.

"I don't know... How would we know that this is the right cave? We don't have any proof..."

You picked up the tied plant mesh and gestured for Aizawa to take it from you.

"I found this covering the front so it would be better hidden.."

Aizawa looked closer at the plants, and found truth in your words. He handed it to Shinso so he could learn from it, to which he just muttered "Huh, you did find it".

Aizawa grabbed the small bag he had brought along with him, and pulled out three different sized respiratory masks that had facial guards, as well as three headlights that went on the top of the masks.

You each took a mask and put it on, along with attaching the flashlight to your heads and walkie talkies to your waists. Gloves were also given to protect your hands anything dangerous in the cave, and so if the police needed evidence then your DNA wouldn't be on the scene.

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you looked at the entrance of the cave, dark and menacing, as though it was an open mouth waiting to swallow you down it's throat.

Aizawa patted your shoulder, and when he saw that it didn't calm you down very much he did something he normally wouldn't do; he held out his hand and let you hold it for comfort. He didn't want to baby the either of you, but something about the look of fear and panic across your face made him feel a little bad and made him worry that he was starting you both off a little fast.

With Shinso on one side and you on the other, the three of you turned on your lights and began to descend into the open cave.

As you delved deeper into the cave, you noticed your worry went away bit by bit as you began to see how pretty the cave looked on the inside. Glowing bugs sat across the roof of the cave and shimmered as each bug would flicker their light, and you took notice of the numerous glowing mushrooms that lit up the cave in a hazy purple glow.

You tried letting go of Aizawa's hand as you felt a little more confident, only to immediately grab it back as you worried you had lost them for a second. He squeezed your hand in response to let you know you were okay, and you tried your best to be as useful as you could, just like you wanted to earlier yesterday.

You all eventually walked into a rather open area of the cave, filled with the glowing purple mushrooms that made it nearly useless to have your flashlights. With the light helping him see everyone, Aizawa let you and Shinso walk around to look for any clues you could find. Unbeknownst to the two of you, he was on high alert as he sensed something felt extremely off. He couldn't scrape away the feeling from his mind that something wasn't right, and so he wanted to make sure you were safe.

You walked around, marvelling at the little puddles of water and stalactites, making sure not to touch anything that wasn't a clue. You walked around and looked behind the edge of another opening in the open area, trying not to walk too far off so Aizawa could still see you.

You looked around and shined your flashlight wherever you could, and upon seeing a ripped green sweater your blood ran cold. Shaking, you ran the flashlight up the sweater and saw other pieces of ripped clothing and small drops of glowing purple liquid surrounding the whole thing.

You felt nothing but fear as you stood there, chilled to the bone as the thought of an actual threat made its presence. With trembling arms and frozen blood, you still moved the light further over the scene, and what you saw made your breath hitch and every thought in your mind stilled. For a split second, time was non-existent, frozen just like the blood that ran through your veins. You felt weak, like a small child. You forgot everything. Where you were. Your quirk. Your training.

Everything was forgotten in the frozen second as true fear hit you for the first time. Because what you saw was the woman, unconscious and bruised, but alive. And next to her, a man with glowing purple mushrooms clinging to his skull, eyes devoid of emotion and pupils, instead the only thing in his eyes was a bright glowing purple that seemed like nothing but two empty holes that sat on his face. His clothes were tattered, much more than the lady's, and he stood with a crouch, like a beast of sorts. His mouth was agape, constantly in motion of slight opening and closing, as if an internal hunger always gnawed at his mind, even when he was resting.

And when you made eye contact with him (it?), that seemingly empty head of his bursted with action as he lunged at you with a likeness of that of a loaded spring, as if he was waiting for his next victim to come across his territory. He had moved faster than your mind could comprehend, and still it didn't help that your legs were frozen and your mind was full of fog.

It was only when his chilled fingers scraped against your mask that you began to move. You threw yourself back and tried to scream for help, only for the man to grab your throat and throw your head against the wall, letting go only to let you slide down as warm pulsing pain shot throughout your head.

You clutched your head in pain, and the man lunged for you again, grabbing your ankle and sliding you towards him, hungry mouth still moving and empty purple eyes looking for another pair to join his. Fear moved you this time, and although you were too panicked to think properly, you still had the energy to try to move yourself back and away from the thing antagonizing you.

Everytime you tried to get up he would just try to grab your mask, so you stayed on the ground and tried scooting back to where Aizawa and Shinso were. You couldn't use your wings on the ground, as that was one major downsides of your quirk.

Deciding that you needed to get out of there, you tried to throw yourself up and run out, but as you attempted to jump up the man threw his weight at you, slamming you down again, this time coming at you with a large rock in his hands.

Seeing his empty eyes and dead emotions, you looked up in pure terror as tears ran down your face, the thought of death consuming you. He slammed down the rock on your mask, cracking and breaking it, and you snapped. If you were going to die, then you'd take the risk. You screamed out as loud as you could, screaming with your throat until it was raw and sore, begging for help with all you had in your lungs.

Aizawa and Shinso weren't too far away, and so when they heard you scream they immediately thought of nothing else but getting to where you were. Every part in their bodies was on high alert, and Aizawa noticed you weren't in the same open area anymore, cursing himself out for not paying better attention to you. Every thought coursing through his mind was only you, you, you.

He thought back to earlier, about the scared student who had to hold his hand in order to make it into the cave, about the student he had been training and worrying about for so long.. Now, all his fears and worries were coming to life, much to his horror.

Aizawa heard you scream again and followed where it was coming from, giving a quick signal to Shinso to follow. He ran behind one of the turns and came across a sight that would most likely burn into his head for a long time.

He saw a man crushing a large rock into your mask, and knew that once the mask was gone then that would be your skull. Rage filled his mind, and he saw nothing but red as he lunged his scarf at the man with more violence than needed.

Aizawa completely wrapped the man in his scarf and swung him into the cave walls with crushing force, before tugging the man towards him and landing a solid punch directly to his face then harshly kneeing him in the gut. The man was beyond unconscious after this, and the largest glowing mushrooms atop his head had fallen off in combat while the smaller ones were still clinging to him. His nose was definitely broken, and Aizawa was sure he might've accidentally broken his ankle when swinging him, but he didn't care as he believed it was well deserved.

Wasting no time, Shinso ran over to you after the man was taken down, and Aizawa joined him. Aizawa pulled out his first-aid kit, wiping down and bandaging a deep gash across your arm, and pulled out a smaller temporary respiratory mask, replacing the mangled one immediately.

You were conscious at least, but you were still stuck in a state of shock, not comprehending what was happening. Shinso laid your head in his lap as Aizawa cleaned a cut on your head, wiping some tears as the medicine stung.

"You did good, kid. You did so very good. Let's get you out of here, okay? "

Aizawa looked to you for a response, worry filling his mind as he mentally beat himself for taking his eyes off of you. It wouldn't happen again, ever.

"C'mon kid... I need a response.. something, even a nod.."

You were still trembling in Shinso's arms, but this time you attempted a nod, immediately regretting it as a burning pain shot through your head. Still, Aizawa got it and took it as a signal to get you two out of there. He wrapped the man up with extra rope that he had on hand so he could have his scarf back, and checked the lady for a pulse, relieved upon finding a steady one and minimal bruises.

He marked the coordinates of where the two were, and called the police so they can handle the rest. For now, Aizawa was only concerned about you, and carried you out with Shinso walking by his side.

The police quickly made their way to the coordinates given to them, and as Aizawa tended to you on the slope above the cave, Shinso let him know that he saw police officers arriving. They apprehended the man, and decided to send him to the hospital for treatment for his broken nose and ankle. As they were dragging him out of the cave, you noticed that his eyes weren't purple anymore, probably since he had a quirk cancelling bracelet on.

He was awake again, and this time he yelled in anger and desperation that he didn't do anything as the police tied him up for the hospital. It disgusted Aizawa, to have seen him try to murder his timid student right in front of him and then try to claim innocent.

Yes, Aizawa was used to villains and criminals doing this all the time, trying to say they didn't do something they very clearly did before, but this time was different since it was a direct attack on someone he cared about.

As you watched the man get taken away, you couldn't help but notice how heavy your eyelids seemed, as though they were weighted drapes trying to close. This was accompanied by a warm and painful throbbing that seemed to push against your skull, the adrenaline wearing off and letting all the pain you endured loose.

Eventually your world went dark, although you couldn't tell exactly when it did, as it just happened at some point in time. While asleep, you felt warm and fuzzy, as though the darkness surrounding you was a hug that enveloped you entirely in its kindness.

Simply drifting through the darkness, you let it's familiarity carry you wherever it wished without care. The edges of your sleep began to fade, and as your slumber began to deteriorate you heard an unknown voice ring out from the vast darkness.

"Please... p-please.. I w-want to go home..."

It was an unfamiliar voice, one that sounded timid and scared, and upon hearing you wanted nothing more than to help whoever was attached to it.

As you turned and tried to reach out your hand to help, the final borders of your sleep wore off and you woke up.

Blinking open your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the light. When you passed out it was still pitch black. The light was muted and soft on the eyes, coming from a single window to your left that was covered with curtains.

I hope that helps, I'll be using this setup a lot for future stories! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Your brain was still rather foggy from waking up, and your whole body ached from overwork and the attack.

Right... The attack...

You started remembering things little by little, struggling a bit extra for some reason as your mind was refusing to cooperate with you. Blinking a bit more, you looked around to distract yourself from the pain, nearly jumping out of bed upon seeing Aizawa's sleeping form sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair that was placed right next to your bed.

Seeing all the machines in between you two and the white walls, you decided that you must be in a hospital or at least something similar. Looking down, you realized that you were in a hospital, as instead of seeing your hero outfit you saw it was replaced by mint green hospital gown.

Now that you knew you were in a hospital, you started to wonder why you were there. Was it the hit to the head you took? The gash on your arm? You hadn't the slightest clue.

"Oh, you're awake now?" Startled, you turned around upon hearing Aizawa's classic fatigued voice, and saw that he was awake- albeit looking a little tired (since when had Aizawa ever looked completely awake?).

"How're you feeling, kid? That was a nasty hit you took.." Aizawa gestured towards your head with his eyes, and you felt around your head in confusion, wincing when your hand came in contact with the bandages that were wrapped around your still sore wound.

"Maybe.. don't touch it.", Aizawa offered, gently grabbing your hand to lead it away from your wound. "It's still healing, but Recovery Girl can come over and speed it up for you."

Feeling a little nauseous and sore, you still asked "how long have I been asleep?"

"You passed out in my arms last night. You were brought over to this hospital by ambulance, and I rode with you to make sure you be okay. I guess I fell asleep alongside you."

Looking at nothing in particular, you squinted your eyes at the blank white sheets in front of you, pain beginning to rush through your system just as it had done the night before.

"You need me to get a nurse?"

You simply shook your head a little, the warm throbbing degrading your thought processing from taking place, the only thought in the head being that you wanted nothing but the pain to go away.

Soon enough, a nurse came by and administered you some pain medication and the pain was quickly soothed away, finally allowing you to rest.

Sighing in content, you leaned back in your bed, body and mind still exhausted from the weeks of intense training and the attack on the mission.

A knock brought both of your attention to the door, and a nurse opened the door to allow Shinso in, shutting it once he was fully in the room.

He walked over to where you were laying, you having went back to closing your eyes after seeing who it was due to the fatigue taking control of your worn-out body. You heard him sigh and some rustling as well.

Curious, you opened your eyes the best you could to see Shinso reaching into his backpack and bringing out a plastic bag that looked like the one you'd get from a convenience store, before wearily placing it on the table next to your bed.

It seemed that Shinso was just as tired as you were, the mission having taken up most of his energy and worry taking up his night as well, making it a fight just to get to the hospital to check up on you.

"I thought I told you to stay home for the day, why're you here?" Aizawa asked Shinso, with no real bite to his tone.

"I wanted to check up on them... Also got some snacks for while they're here.." Shinso replied while motioning to you laying in your hospital bed, fatigue and exhaustion resonating through his voice. As you looked at him it seemed as though he was struggling to purely stand up, swaying lightly from side to side.

Aizawa huffed out a bit, "you're exhausted, kid. You can talk a bit but I'm sending you home right after, okay?"

Upon receiving a curt nod from Shinso, Aizawa excused himself so he could go get a coffee from the vending machine down the hall, still tired himself.

So many worries flew across his mind, what was supposed to be a simple learning mission turned into an unpredicted attack and with one of his students ending up in the hospital, even though they were under his watch.

Aizawa had checked with the police to see if they got any info out of the suspect, but they just reported he was stubborn and denied everything that was asked of him. Regardless, he was put in prison after a quick trial deemed him guilty. Although... Aizawa couldn't help but believe that the mission went a little too fast, that it was almost a little too easy (minus your condition).

Upon making his way back to your hospital room, he noticed you and Shinso both fast asleep, with you slouching down from where you previously sat, and Shinso who was seated on the only chair that Aizawa had been sitting on earlier, resting his head in your lap on his crossed arms.

Chuckling to himself, Aizawa went over to the window and peeked out over the city for a second, just for the view, before going over the small couch that sat in front of your hospital bed, folding his arms and resting similar to the two of you.

• • • • •

After that, Recovery Girl made her way to the hospital that you were situated at and used her quirk on you to speed up your healing. After another day of rest, you were finally released from the hospital at the end of the same day you were healed.

Although it was the end of the weekend and school was to start the next day, Aizawa instructed you to stay at the dorms and rest until you felt fine enough to go back to school. With all the rest and recovery you had gotten to do in the hospital, you attempted to head to class as soon as the week started. However, you were promptly stopped by Shinso, who had been sent by Aizawa to make sure you stayed and rested for at least a day, especially since it'd be beneficial for Shinso to stay for a rest day as well to get his energy back up.

"Look, I don't want to be here, either."

Shinso had told you while you crossed your arms and refused to look at him, slightly bitter that your friend would go against you. You didn't mean anything serious as it was all mainly for show, and Shinso knew this, it showed by the smirk that he had on his face.

"Then why're you here? Why bother stopping me?" You rebutted.

He just smiled further, leaning back into the common room's couch cushions as he answered.

" 'Cause... First of all; I'm tired as hell, there's no way I'd make it through a school day, even if I wanted to or not."

Looking over at you this time, he continued.

"And second; free day. Even better that it's Aizawa Sensei that gave it to us, he rarely does stuff like that. "

You grumbled, but didn't argue back as you had nothing to state. You supposed he was right, but still, you wanted to be back in class.

After waiting patiently, your perseverance was rewarded with finally being able to go back to school again, and you were a little relived that things were finally getting back to normal.

You went through your day like normal, going to classes, doing your work, eating lunch, talking with your little friend group, and so on.

Only, something felt... Off.

You couldn't put your finger on it no matter how hard you tried to trace where the source of the feeling was coming from, but you knew it was there.

It started the same day you were allowed to go back to school, now at night, as you and Tokoyami did the dishes for your classmates, Mina trying out one of her "foolproof" dishes of hers in the background. It was a calm, quiet night, one that normally was something you'd look back on to calm yourself when doing something nerve-wracking.

That's when you heard it.

"ple-please... light... I can-cant't take it anymore..any-anymore.. "

Startled, you paused your washing and looked around at your friends to see if anyone had said anything. You just saw Mina whining over her spilled food, Iida helping out Ojiro with his notes, Denki and Sero playing a racing game in the common room... Everything looked fine, but you couldn't shake off what you had heard.

"Everything alright? You look a little pale.", Your friend, Tokoyami stated, now also having paused his washing to look at you with concern. He had seen you stop washing and swivel around without warning, eyes darting around your classmates rapidly- liked a crazed animal.

"O-oh, yeah, I'm just feeling a little tired. I-I think I should head to bed soon.", you lied. You didn't know how to tell Tokoyami your concerns without sounding like a maniac.

He looked at you once again, not fully believing you, still giving you a polite nod regardless as you caught on to his disbelief.

"Well... You had better rest up then. Have a nice night.."

You gave a nod of understanding as you caught on to his doubt, and went to the elevator to go up to your room. As you watched the doors close, you suddenly felt a chill going up your spine, and tremors shook your body. You couldn't for the life of you find out what was wrong. Cold chills wracked your body, climbing from your fingers and toes up to your torso and eventually claiming the rest of your body, and nausea made itself known even though you knew you hadn't eaten anything odd.

Paranoia began to claw at your thoughts. Was it an infection from the wound on your head? Or the one on your arm? Did you overwork yourself, should you have stayed at the dorms for another rest day?

As these thoughts and worries began to distract you and cause you extra anxiety, you were caught off guard by another voice again. This time it caused you to completely black out as it spoke, and your mind seemed to fill with fog.

"I... can't... breath... I-I don't... I can't... I n-need to... to..."

To?

"My-my... daughter... please...she's sick..."

You don't have a daughter though, so who is this?

"I'm sorry I ... couldn't help... I-I'm sorry I.. l-lost..."

Who lost? What'd they lose?

"I... I-I wanna... go home..."

...

So many crying, broken voices tore their way into your mind. Drilling through the little cracks they caused, they ripped apart your very being with their sorrow, all the voices blending together to create a somber harmony of the broken that cried for their freedom, that grieved for their losses, that worried for their loved ones.

It hurt, hearing these voices cry out and plead for help, just as you had done when you got caught up in the attack. These were the kind of voices that had nothing to offer, but everything to lose. The kind to cry out when pushed into something they didn't wish to be a part of. The kind that was actively losing their energy, but still begged in hopes of getting a response.

And you wanted to be that response. But you couldn't move, your body was frozen in place as the voices begged for action, and you were chained in place of you subconscious as they each bombarded you with their melancholy and pain.

You don't know when, eventually the voices stopped when you felt a tapping sensation on your head. Finally being able to open your eyes, you were relieved to be in control of your own body again. You met eyes with a worried Shinso who was standing in front of you, and you realized that you had at one point gotten off the elevator on your floor right before zoning out. He was shaking you slightly, left hand holding your shoulder, the right gently tapping your head.

Once you moved your eyes, Shinso let out a sigh, his panic alleviated now that you were back again. You turned to him, still a little foggy about what had just happened.

"Geez!... What on Earth were you daydreaming about?! You were standing there for like a solid 10 minutes, not moving an inch." He was exhausted and exasperated, confused as to why you weren't acting yourself.

You felt frozen all around, but still worked up enough energy to force yourself to muster a simple yet stiff "sorry.."

Shinso rubbed the back of his neck, still a bit freaked out, but now feeling a little guilty over his freakout once your pathetic response hit him. "It was kinda freaky if I'm being honest .. but I'm glad your back. Just, don't pull that again, okay?"

You attempted to give a nod, but seeing how stiff and frozen you felt it was barely noticable. Shinso noticed something off with you, and his suspicion rose again at your weird behavior.

"Something wrong? You're not really acting yourself.."

For some reason, the fog in your brain clouded the thought of telling Shinso about the weird event that had just taken place, and you only recited what you had told Tokoyami earlier, before stiffly walking off to your room.

He knew something was wrong, but Shinso decided to chalk it up to just you being anxious after the attack, as HoundDog had told him that students normally act odd for awhile after their first missions and attacks, as they're still preparing themselves and aren't used to the daily amounts of stress that heroes typically go through. As much as his inner conscious screamed at him to not ignore it, Shinso didn't want to make matters worse by trying to fix something he knew almost nothing about, so he decided to let you have your own space for some time.

That night you struggled to grasp even the tiniest threads of sleep, an intense battle between mind and body. Your head grew foggier with time, and you would constantly switch between feeling cold and numb to hot and burning. Not a single scrap of peace and recollection graced you with its presence, no matter how much you fought to collect it.

You were always in a state of motion, flipping and floundering in your bed, trying to make yourself comfortable enough so you could possibly go to sleep. As more time passed your mental state began to crumble, coherent thoughts and logical beliefs disappearing as the heavy fog claimed more and more of your mind. Until eventually you were just a cold, empty-headed version of yourself, still confused and now scared for what small remains of your mentality remained.

You made a silent promise to yourself that you would definitely get Aizawa's help in the morning, as you eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion.

The morning sunlight that hit your eyes and the singing of birds that met your ears seemed a little... too calm. At least when compared to what you went through last night. Speaking of, as much as you tried to remember everything that went on last night it just wouldn't come to you. You fought and struggled, eventually going out with a sigh before you went to get ready for the day. Bits and pieces still clung to your memory, but you could only recall tiny fragments at a time. Still, you held onto those pieces with as much mental strength as you held so you could reassure yourself in the future.

Sitting in bed, you braced yourself when you slid out and stood up, only to become confused in the process when nothing came at you. No dizziness, or numbness, or heat flashes. Nothing. Well, nothing but the mind fog that still gripped your mind with an iron fist. It felt odd, because on one hand you felt great, no random back pains or headaches or morning fatigue, nothing. But that's the other hand, as you didn't feel yourself in the process. You moved simply because your muscle memory of your morning routine kept you going, and you felt as though you couldn't force a single new thought to appear in your own head.

For once, your mind was silent. Empty and vast, with little bits of your personality desperately holding on to what they can.

Of course your classmates noticed something was wrong, as you wouldn't just go silent on them so abruptly and without a meaning behind it. But, they understood your kind nature, and they understood that you most likely needed some time to yourself after the attack. Shinso could only describe the situation to the best of his ability, and even then, that was enough to invoke a sense of horror to your normally upbeat classmates.

And so that's why nobody said a thing. That's why not a word was said when you didn't fill in your notes during class, that's why nobody went to check on you when you didn't grab your lunch and instead sat at a table zoning out, and that's why nobody tried to interfere with you when you hadn't spoken a single word all day.

Except for a few, that is.

Shinso had gone up to you during lunch, and attempted to get you to eat.

Gently pushing his lunch tray so it was a little closer to you, he motioned for you to take something.

"You not hungry?.."

You sat there, eyes wide and soulless, and gave him nothing but a simple shrug before letting your shoulders sag down again. You wanted to say something, but you didn't know what. You couldn't know, it was like trying to come up with an answer in math class to a problem you couldn't solve. You hadn't even the slightest clue as to what to say, mind too heavy and foggy.

"C'mon..." He nudged you with his elbow, trying to cheer you up with a little smile of his. It quickly fell from a lack of response.

Sighing, he just scooted closer to you and ate his lunch in silence, getting increasingly worried about your abstract behavior.

After that, Present Mic tried to entertain a smile onto you after English class, telling some of his favorite jokes and stories, often laughing at himself (though it was mostly to try to help crack a smile out of you).

He just smiled a with a saddened expression in his eyes and patted you on the shoulder as you walked off to your next class, his smile dropping and turning to a gloomy sigh when you were out of view. Truly, he was worried when any of his students were down in the dumps or just plain sad, and it was a natural instinct of his for him to try to get them to cheer up again.

The whole day seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye for you, going from waking up to hearing the last bell ring for the day. You felt even foggier than normal and now it seemed as if your head was actually the same weight at a chunk of lead, struggling to stay awake, let alone keep up with everything going on.

Everyone filed out of the class, calmly chattering to their friends, while you still sat calmly at your desk. That's when you felt it. A similar snap that felt like the one from earlier when you were about to lose everything in the attack.

You knew you couldn't go on like this, and so you forced your way through the thick and heavy fog, standing up on wobbly legs and stiffly made your way to Aizawa's desk. It felt almost as if you could collapse any second, but you weren't going down without a fight.

You knew it had something to do with the cave. It felt like a puzzle left uncompleted, the photo never making itself known. Something somewhere was screaming in the depths of your head with all its might to go back to the cave. That the answer was there.

Aizawa looked up from the papers he was grading, noticing you stop next to his desk and just look at him with large, blank eyes. Aizawa's an observant man, of course he knew you weren't acting yourself. He was actually going to question you about it at the end of the day when he was finished with everything just to make sure nothing behind the scenes was going on. He understood the difference between being sick, being in shock, and then being whatever it is you were dealing with. But, to his surprise, you beat him to it.

"I...", You started, voice timid and airy, a stark contrast to how it normally was. You grew frustrated, not realizing why it was so difficult to get your words out. It was like trying to run underwater, as if you were forcing yourself though something thick and vicious holding you back, forcing you to struggle against it. How did it get to this?

You met eyes with Aizawa, and instantly you knew that he somehow understood. He may not have known what was going on exactly, but somehow he understood you were struggling with your words, with your mind and so on.

"I... ", You started again. "I... feel.. funny. " After a quick pause, and a nod from Aizawa, you continued. "The... Cave. We need... To go again..." This time his eyes widened slightly, and you knew you probably caught him in surprise with that.

"The cave?" He asked, voice gentle on comparison to his stern monotonous tone that he normally uses with everyone that. "Why? To check again?"

"Yes... The... Cave. The cave. I can't- just... please..."

That's all you could muster, all the energy seemingly evaporating right from you. Nothing more would come out no matter how much you fought, and so you just hoped that he agreed.

Aizawa looked down to the ground at nothing in particular, seemingly thinking about his decision. He looked around, then back at you before sighing and leaning back in his chair. The cave... Why'd you have to want to go back to the cave? There had to be a reason, you were terrified of it...

After much mental deliberation, Aizawa nodded his head a bit, looking back at you again, deciding on just trusting your word. You were an honorable student, you got good grades, were kind to everyone, and never really went out of your way to break the rules.

"The cave... Alright. " As much as the fog consumed your mind, you still had enough energy to have your eyes widen in surprise. "We'll go back, check and do some inspections, but I can't promise we'll find anything, kid. If we don't then we'll just have to call it a day, alright?"

Giving a stiff nod, your hope grew.

Later that night, Aizawa couldn't help but feel that something for horribly off with the whole situation. Nothing seemed to add up, and if anything it just made him ask more questions rather than answering any of the ones he had beforehand. He was worried, not only for him and his students, but also for you. Especially for you. He almost had half a mind to send you back to the dorms for more rest, but he noticed that during training you were at the top of your game, just as you always had been. He just realized that you must've been stuck in your mind all day, noticing your dazed looks during class and empty eyes during training.

Something didn't add up... It was nothing but a mess he wanted to be done with. But when it involved the safety and sanity of one of his students, he knew he had to get dirty to clean it up.

It was impulsive, but at that moment he felt that he had to go now. When you asked to check the cave again, he saw something in your eyes. Something like a ticking clock, counting down the inevitable moment something happens. Something that certainly wasn't good. A timer of sorts, he supposed. No... Aizawa felt that he was going insane over the whole thing. There was nothing to read in between the lines of something that didn't exist.

He had told you and Shinso that you would be going to the cave again for a check over in two nights, but nevertheless he still decided to change it to that night instead. The confusion wouldn't stop until he knew he wasn't crazy and wasn't worth worrying over nothing, so moving it earlier wouldn't hurt anything but your sleep schedules.

And so, that's how you found yourself walking alongside Shinso and Aizawa through the same forest that you all had done earlier. The same chopped up plants were there, luckily they hadn't had much time to grow again and block the path so you ask could walk without stumbling, and this time the walk was easier as you all knew what to expect now. The same tree stumps that stuck out and tripped your feet earlier were now skillfully avoided, the rabbits that would dart out in a blur no longer spooked you, and you all walked with more confidence in each step.

It was darker this time though, as last time the full moon was out and lit everything up, it now having disappeared behind the thick layer of clouds that filled the chilly night sky. The ground was still damp, and the air was cool against your already chilled skin, but you didn't notice either, as your full focus was simply trying to put one foot in front of the other, mind still heavy and clouded.

You were gripping onto Aizawa's jacket for support and so you wouldn't get lost, and he let you only under the fact that he was also concerned about you in your foggy state. As you walked through the forest, the you noticed that the voices head gotten louder. Each step lead to an increase in their cry, and as much as you hated hearing the horrible cruelty, it seemed to draw you in. Almost as if something was pulling you towards the direction... Each step made your mind foggier and your body colder despite the cool wind, and with each step it felt as though there was something tugging on your mind, trying to bring it down into something soft and warm.

It seemed so hard to resist, but you still continued your fight against the temptations through nothing but sheer will. The warmth was so kind and inviting to your frozen and stiff body, but you still attempted to tear away from the claws that tried to drag you down.

You don't know when, but during your internal battle you all had reached the cave in no time. What snapped you out was Aizawa placing a respiratory mask over your face for you, and you tried to reach your hand up to put it on yourself, only to panic as it didn't move despite your intentions.

This was unnoticed by both Aizawa and Shinso, and you didn't have much time to worry about it before the temptations came back and the struggle continued. Still fazed, you groggily grabbed Aizawa's hand before you all descended into the cave, and he looked over at you to make sure you were okay before you all stepped in, armed with your lights and masks.

"Listen because I'm not going to explain it twice; we're just here to double check everything. If something's wrong, let me know ASAP, and in case something really bad happens there's numerous of heroes patrolling around here that I can call for help"

Aizawa quickly explained as you all made your way through the dangerously familiar dark cave. The voices were practically screaming right next to your ears, so you missed what Aizawa said entirely. Nothing felt right. Everything spun in circles as you let go of Aizawa's hand, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Alright, but is there anything specific we're looking for, or is it just anything at all?" Shinso questioned, also going alongside Aizawa when it came to wanting to find the reason behind your life behavior.

"No, nothing specific, just anything you happen to run into... " Aizawa answered, looking around to his side.

"Also, I want you to keep an eye on [Name], they've been really out of it lately, so we can't afford another attack."

Shinso's eyes widened. "I thought you were watching them.."

Aizawa's eyes shot open as he quickly spun around to where you were once standing behind him, now nowhere to be seen in the large, dark cave.

"Shit! I really am an idiot!" He exclaimed in worry as horrible memories of the first attack remained fresh in his mind.

Immediately turning back to Shinso, Aizawa shouted, "listen, you can look around but stay in the area! I'm going to look for her since she couldn't have gotten far. And please, for the love of god, don't wander off, and yell if you need anything!"

Aizawa was already running down the tunnels before he even finished his sentence, leaving Shinso to himself while Aizawa focused on finding you before you got you lost.

As he ran throughout the tunnels, something clicked on his head. Your hero in training tag. All students had one, and they all had trackers in case the student got lost or kidnapped during a mission. Perfect.

Thanking whatever higher beings that were out there, Aizawa practically ripped out his tracker from his pocket, seeing two different color dots on it, one for Shinso and one for you. He was so focused on finding you that Aizawa didn't notice Shinso's blinking dot rapidly chasing after him.

Looking up, Aizawa was initially relieved when it said you were just around the corner, but it quickly dropped and turned to alarm when he actually saw you.

Unconscious and mask ripped off and broken into pieces on the ground next to you, Aizawa couldn't help but panic and his senses all heightened as he looked you over. However, that was the least of his concerns. What he really was focusing on was the glowing purple mushrooms that clung to your head, glowing with a beat that seemed to match the pulse of your heart.

Nausea made its way to his system, but Aizawa remained stone faced as he tensed himself for attack.

Crack

A cracking of something behind him gave him all he needed before turning around only to come face-to-face with another person, glowing mushrooms also growing atop their head. It looked like an average man you'd see walking the streets, having on nothing but a tattered white T-shirt with blue basketball shorts and one sandal, the other seemingly missing. His eyes glowed a hazy purple, but Aizawa's heart dropped as he looked behind the man.

There were more of them. Lots of them, all average-looking people with glowing eyes and mushrooms on their head. His heart dropped even further and his blood ran cold as Aizawa realized that these were all the missing people, and that they couldn't have been coincidentally waiting there for him at that exact moment. Then it hit him.

It was a trap.

Mine fully alert and panic now fueling his legs, he promised himself that he'd come back for you as he side-jumped onto the wall and over the crowd that was grabbing and lunging at every bit of him. Aizawa cursed, as he had to leave his scarf back at the dorms due to the tight tunnels.

He dashed through the thin tunnels, throwing himself around as he searched for Shinso to make sure was was okay. Feeling a hand grab his shoulder, he ripped it off of him and swung them from behind, slamming them into the ground without as much force as Aizawa had liked due to his panic.

Shinso wheezed, hitting the ground hard with a thud, landing on his back.

"Kid! You know you can't surprise me like that! I thought I told you!" Aizawa growled a bit, although his tone didn't match his elated expression.

He pulled Shinso back up with ease, the boy in turn staggering a bit after the hard hit, but stabilizing quickly after from having taken many similar hits during training.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you or anything. It's just, I was looking for you because I think I found something." Shinso was still out of breath, but he breathed and then started again. "I think we fell for a trap!"

Aizawa turned behind him and Shinso followed, a look mixed of fear and surprise on his face as they both saw the huge crowd of mushroom people chasing after them.

Aizawa pushed Shinso in front of him, giving him the single command that beared the weight of their lives: run.

With that being said, the duo stormed out of there, there being just too many to fight. Swerving left and right to dodge the incoming attacks, they took turns with one leading and the other pushing back the hoard. The tunnels grew wider as they pushed on, and it seemed the entrance was coming up, but they were once again ambushed.

Coming from the other side of the cave, another hoard came barging in and blocked the way, crushing their hopes of getting out of there. But what shocked them most of all was seeing you among the group. Your eyes were a little lighter purple than the others, but you still had the all too common mushrooms clinging onto your head just as well.

Shinso could only look at in shock, refusing to look into your terrible empty eyes where there should've had their original shine to them. It was awful, really. The dead weight settling into their stomachs as they were blocked from all around. The absolute loss of any hope of escaping. The snuffed flame of their still disappearing predictions and being replaced with a sense of hopelessness as they realized that soon they'd be a part of that crowd.

Aizawa was still, a single thought in his head.

"Shinso... This is my fault. I should've done a better job at looking out for the both of you. Now, because of me one of you is gone and the other is soon to be the same.."

Shinso shook his head, tears of frustration growing in his eyes as he refused to admit defeat.

"It's not your fault! None of this is... It's someone else's doing! You did all you could, right?! You called for help and we still ended up like this! We tried, we got this far, we can't give-"

Aizawa cut him off, a heavy expression gnawing at his features as a shadow covered his face.

"No, I haven't done all I can yet. I'm going to get you out of here, whether that be at my expense or not."

Shinso shook his head at his teacher's words, still denying the fate that awaited them. In an act of desperation and anger, he looked to all the empty-eyed people, shouting at them while trying to use his quirk so he could have something, anything.

"You can hear me, right?!" The empty faces didn't flinch.

"What do you want from us?! What could you possibly gain from taking my friend away?!" He cried out, fear and desperation now beginning to settle on his mind as the crowd looked at him while getting closer, empty and stiff.

"GIVE THEM BACK!" Shinso yelled out one last time in a fit of rage while looking at your blank face, sparking you to lunge at him without warning.

It felt as though time was frozen again. The air felt thick and jellylike as your cold fingers grasped the edges of Shinso's mask, purple eyes mirroring his as he could only look in shock.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Aizawa launched himself in-between you and Shinso instead, and you took the bait, hands clawing at his face and tearing the mask off him instead, scratching him in the process.

It was over for Aizawa now. He knew that. He inhaled the spores, now he lost the game, and it was only a matter of time. A matter of time.

Time...That's right. The clock was still ticking, he had time.

Without sparring so much as a single second, he grabbed your collar and pushed you out of the way without any harm, and quickly did the same to all the grasping hands that ached to infect the fresh faces. Grabbing Shinso by the arm, Aizawa led him through the crowd without much care for himself now that his cards have been dealt. These were regular people, people who never trained a day in their life besides maybe going to the gym, people who never thought of fights and violence, but rather just living their lives. Aizawa was a trained and hardened pro, he understood he had a good hand dealt to him.

But there was power in numbers, that was certainly true. He never understood a saying more than that one as he struggled to guide Shinso out to safety, using himself as a human shield against the hands that aimed to infect. Time was ticking...

It was a sea of people, pushing and shoving at all sides around. Purple eyes and glowing mushrooms crowded the tunnels, and Aizawa could only hope the entrance was near. It was hard to tell because as he pushed through the people would only follow.

With Aizawa giving one last shove that ended with a couple people falling to the ground, Shinso pointed out an opening that Aizawa practically threw them both into. There was no sigh of relief, because the crowd surged forward, catching them both off guard with the unpredictable mass movements.

A million hungry hands reached in their direction, like a wave of flesh coming to crash down upon them. The constant loss of hope and fear of infection was beginning to get exhausting.

Aizawa's muscles were sore and burned with white hot agony, but he still needed to give his all while he still could. Before he eventually would join the crowd. It was the least he could do, ensure that at least one of you three made it out and spread the word.

Purple eyes, glowing mushrooms, a million hands... It all seemed inescapable...

"BANG!"

A sudden sound shot through the air, and the man closest to the two immediately crumpled to the ground as red flew through the air from his ankle. A few more shots were heard and an opening was made wide enough for the duo to pass through as several more people crumpled to the ground like the first.

Aizawa led Shinso, and they found standing at the entrance of the cave the hope that they had been losing all night. Because there stood a large group of a random assortment of heroes that came to their aid. And finally, the thought of loss was lifted from their minds.

They made their way out, still tense as the battle was far from over. The infected had followed Shinso and Aizawa all the way outside, and now in a grassy opening in the dimly lit forest, a battle was being held by the heroes in an attempt to restrain as many people as they could.

As Snipe ran over to check on Shinso (the only student there), Aizawa collapsed, weak and without any energy due to the fight and the spores that were quickly taking over from how long he was breathing them in.

He rushed to check on Aizawa after finding Shinso to be okay, but Snipe and Shinso both panicked when a hero next to them also collapsed, along with another further away, and then two more to the opposite side.

As more and more heroes collapsed, most having coughing fits, Aizawa came to a dreadful realization. Each hero that collapsed didn't have some kind of mask, while the few left to help did. And he understood.

That they were fighting a losing battle.

Because of his mistake. Again, he ruined more and more with his recklessness.

Hero after hero collapsed, some catching on to the pattern and masking early, others catching on too late and falling to the ground in a coughing fit while they attempted to protect themselves with pieces of cloth from their costumes or spare masks they had on hand.

It was an appalling sight, to see the empty eyed win so easily by simply existing, while the heroes that had trained for so long and hard lost while fighting with all they had in them.

So few were left standing as the sun's rays began to peak overhead, a painful irony that life kept going despite the losses and wins of those that lived it. Everyone that could move called in for more backup while trying to help the fallen and also attempted to restrain weak alongside all that. It was too much for too little people.

Things only kept getting messier as Aizawa had kept trying to fix it, and now he wasn't the only one paying the price, but also many, many others were as well. Aizawa refused to give in to the infection until he had fixed what he had done. It was the least he could do.

However, something took a turn. As the sun rose, everyone who was infected lost their mushrooms and thus they got their mind back once the sunlight reached them. This was only discovered as an infected woman who was pushing back a struggling and weak hero suddenly went still before falling to the floor, unconscious.

Once this was discovered, those that still had the energy and their abilities led or pushed the infected people into the spots where the sun shone, causing the tables to turn in the battle with the newfound information. Better yet, those that were fighting the infection had it removed from their system as soon as the sun met their head.

Aizawa attempted to stand after the sun sunlight reached his body, but he had to quickly catch himself as his knees almost buckled, and he found that although he was no longer infected, he was still dealing with the after effects such as what he was dealing with currently; all his energy seemed to have seeped straight out of him, leaving him weak and vulnerable.

Still, he fought the exhaustion and forced his legs to stand. He had to find you, wherever you were. He knew you were outside, and he knew Snipe was watching Shinso. Goodness, he just hoped you were okay. After looking around through the chaos and clumps of people, Aizawa finally spotted you, unfortunately hiding away under the shade of the trees and still very much infected.

There were almost no infected people left, and so most heroes turned to you upon noticing this. However, everything went still and silent upon noticing a large shadowy figure standing behind you. The figure stepped out and into the light, causing several gasps as people finally got a look at who was behind this whole thing.

It was a lady who had long dark hair and was covered all over in different kinds of mushrooms. She had a horrible expression on her rotting face, and it was discovered that the mushrooms were growing only where she was decaying. Aizawa felt no fear when he saw this lady, only pure, unadulterated, rage. He had no clue who this lady was, only that she was the one responsible for this whole mess, and that she currently was the one controlling you right in front of Aizawa.

It was quickly discovered that her control was stronger when there were less people being controlled, and as you were the last one, that meant you were at her bidding no matter what it was, sunlight or not.

She looked over to Shinso and scowled upon seeing him fine and untouched.

"I recall earlier... You were asking what I could possibly gain by taking your friend from you?... " She spoke to Shinso, who wasn't that far away from her. Her voice was deep and raspy, and as a result it barely understandable, but it still resonated with everyone around. All was still and everyone was silent and on edge as she was basically holding not only a student hostage, but also everyone around as she had complete control over you and now your quirk as well.

Shinso shot a sharp glare at the lady. Seeing an actual villain with a quirk similar to his... All the bullying and relentless stereotypes that were forced onto him growing up... It was all because of people like her...

And now she was holding his friend under her control. He couldn't stand the sight. Unheroic thoughts plagued his mind at the moment, as he couldn't help but feel a deep seated rage beginning to boil in him. But he was stuck. He couldn't move and risk you getting hurt, or anyone else either.

Aizawa watched the interaction, wondering if he could sneak in with using his quirk and end the whole thing. Some heroes around him caught on to this while still staying silent.

"I'd like to know!" A man, a new and young hero stated from far away, a telepath spreading the message.

"You're nothing but evil, using innocent people to your bidding! Doesn't it make you sick? To act in such a manner?" He declared confidently.

"Nice try. " She simply stated, eyes slanted and an expression that was tainted with an evil sense of joy and merriment. Everyone froze as she turned and looked Aizawa straight in the eye.

"I can hear all of your little friend's thoughts. Erasure? Sorry, but that won't stop my spores..."

She looked at Aizawa with a gloating expression that was mixed with her own rage.

"How does it feel?!" She exclaimed, causing the alert heroes to tense.

"To have lost control of those that you love?!" She asked, and at that moment Aizawa noticed that the victims weren't chosen at random. They each were related to a hero somehow, but weren't directly one themselves. This was an attack on the heroes the whole time. From the inside out...

All over, many heroes were still weak and recovering from the infection, and those that were masked had little energy left from being the sole protectors and fighters. She knew what she was doing this whole time.

"Lemme tell you this... When my friend was sick and dying from a burglar's quirk, did any hero come to save her day?" No one spoke a word.

"No. And so all was up to me... I didn't know... My quirk would just speed things up... I didn't know... " She looked down at her hands, trembling sightly as if she was still remembering the day she lost her closest friend.

"I know what it's like to lose control! To lose someone you love... But you heroes don't! You never did! You never attempted to help, you didn't even try to save her!" She shouted, voice growing more raspy with volume.

She grew quiet, and heroes all around looked at each other. No one had the energy left in them to fight anymore, and backup was still too far away. Aizawa looked up at you with worry, your eyes still empty and mushrooms still glowing atop your head. He needed to get you to safety.

"That's why...", She looked up, face now devoid of any earlier emotion, just like her puppets.

"I need to show you what it's like."

And with that, she raised her hand towards Aizawa, and in the blink of an eye, you were shooting forward at him.

His eyes grew in surprise, not predicting a direct attack being sent on him. He could barely stand, let alone fight. Shinso attempted to throw himself in your way, but you hardened you wings and closed them around yourself like a cocoon, before shooting them open again with enough force to send him flying.

Snipe, although reluctant to shoot one of his students, still knew what he had to do. Looking down, he saw he had two bullets left, enough for each ankle or arm if he could make it.

He aimed in between the crevice of your wings and shot once. The bullet sped through the air, but before it could reach you, it fell to the ground in between the two of you after a sharp "clink" was heard, and he realized it was your hardened feathers. He tried again but the same thing happened, and this time you sent a speeding feather at him, hitting his sleeve and pinning him to a tree with several more.

Following this, Aizawa could only attempt to use his quirk as you expanded your metal wings, them glowing a beautiful pure white that radiated a deadly beauty. It did nothing, but he stayed strong and held on as he watched you raise several fatal feathers in the air.

He closed his eyes awaiting a sharp pain, but never felt anything. Aizawa tensed, and opened his eyes upon hearing a vulgar curse coming from the mushroom lady who once stood triumphantly, now clutching her bleeding arm and abdomen.

He saw you, also clutching your bleeding head, standing tall and no longer infected.

You turned to him, eyes now their original color and mushrooms gone from your hair, and gave him a large, joyful smile. He could only stay frozen in surprise, but before he could say anything you turned back to the lady who was attempting to escape.

She brushed her hands on the trees in an attempt to colonize more of her mushrooms, but it was too bright for them to grow and they could only get to about a hair's width before shrivelling and dying. It was pointless for her to do, and you steeled your wings once again and sent out more feathers at her departing figure. She got hit in the backs of her knees, her Achilles tendons, and the back of the neck before getting pinned and retained by surrounding heroes after she crumpled.

While that was going on, Aizawa forced his burning muscles to cooperate and limped over to you, and when you noticed you ran over to him to meet him halfway. Shinso jogged over to the two of you as well, disappointed in himself for not configuring l contributing more, but relieved you were okay.

Aizawa grabbed you before your could speak and just held you in a tight hug for a solid second of silence, to which you didn't mind. After letting go, he had to ask, "how?"

You chuckled a bit, knowing exactly what he was asking.

"Your quirk helped snap me out for just enough time to send one my feathers at my head which helped to give me more time free from her control which I used to send at her ". You rubbed the back of your neck, not used to all the attention. "I guess her quirk lost control when I hit her. I can't explain it, though. I suppose I just got lucky.."

After that, several ambulances and an armored criminal hospital truck showed up, and everyone got a check up. Those in the worst conditions were given first treatment, and you were one of these people with the opened wound on your head. Shinso was alongside you, as he broke his right wrist when he got flung by your wings, but other than that, the two of you were okay. Aizawa didn't have any major injury, but was still given plenty of pain relief and sent on his way.

The whole event had involved so many people that it got put in the news. That's an understatement, it was all over the news. Your classmates thought it was the coolest thing, and were glad you ended up being okay.

The cave was inspected by a team of crime-scene containment and contamination experts, and they were able to remove every single trace of the lady's quirk, down to the smallest spore. Still, the cave was filled so no one would be able to go in it ever again.

The man accused earlier was apparently the first to be controlled, and he was sent as bait for the heroes so they'd lose track of her. He was given a formal apology of the court and proper payment for the whole incident. The innocent victims were also given payments as well, and they were hospitalized and sent under a strict quarantine for a month. This was too ensure that no missed spores had the chance to grow and spread.

Since you and Aizawa were infected at some point, you both were put under quarantine as well, although you simply weren't allowed to leave the dorms for a month, however your classmates happily entertained you (much to Aizawa's dismay).

During that month, you and Aizawa got to learn a lot about each other, and it drastically boosted your confidence when it came to fighting. Aizawa was glad for your successes, and he definitely looked forward to seeing you grow up.

Shinso wasn't placed under mandatory quarantine, so he was able to go back to school when he was finished resting (properly). Although he was a bit jealous that you got a whole month to yourself.

The mushroom lady was healed by prison doctors and sent over to Tartarus where she'd stay permanently with all the other villains. Since she had a powerful quirk if used right, she had to have a constant surveillance and checks to make sure her quirk cancelling bracelet was working properly.

• • • • •

Some time had passed since the incident, and before you knew it you were starting your second year of upper secondary school (highschool) with your classmates.

It was the first day of school, and waiting for you and Shinso at the gates was none other than Aizawa no himself. He saw your expression and chuckled a bit, asking "Nervous?".

You shrugged your shoulders. You weren't scared like you always were in the past, but you didn't know what the future was going to hold. It was out of your control.

And so Aizawa did something he had only done once before. He offered you his hand.

Smiling, you accepted it and all three of you walked together, beginning another year.

A/N:

Ahh! That took so long! But I enjoyed writing it very much!

(🎀ơ ᎑ ơ)

This is to make up for the small breaks I've been taking (I apologize for that, exams are here, I've been looking for a job, and my mental health hasn't been the best..)

NOTE: I don't think I specified this, but the voices reader heard was due to the mushroom lady's quirk, which created a sort of hive mind. That's also how she was able to read your mind when infected.

One last thing, please request if you want! I don't judge, and I promise I see them all! I just ask for patience is all ꒰˶ฅ̀•ᗜ•ฅ́˶꒱おけ〇

Thank you for being here, I hope you have a fantastic day!

年2023/月03/日08

Reblogs and any feedback are very much appreciated! (Seriously, it's the only thing keeping me going sometimes)

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craftlands · 1 year ago

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Idk I feel like the people who Shamane, Kaalaa, and Kanjira are supposed to represent should get a say in if they think they are offensive in some way

This also will sound kinda off but I think there are way worse depictions in other media.

That isn't to say there shouldn't be a discussion this is just my opinion

Also just cause I am bad at paying attention but is Kanjira Indian or something else

I was looking at the description that gives her age and it just says unknown but I may have missed it in dialogue

(Oh and if you are one of the people that the characters "represent" then sorry if this came off as rude)

Kanjira's Indian, but the "fortune teller/thief" design is very much rooted in Rromani stereotypes and she plays a lot into those -- i'm honestly just thankful that the g-slur never got dropped as i was legitimately waiting for that to happen every single time she was onscreen, it's That Obvious. there's a long history of discussion of these tropes and how they're harmful -- while i am not able to find specific sources at the current moment, they are absolutely out there.

i'd also like to point out that she speaks in broken English nearly constantly. you could argue that this is "because she's a kid and English isn't her first language" but i would like to then point out that Matilda, who is two years younger than her, almost never does the same thing despite English also not being her first language (and her showing active disdain for learning it). that's... really not great!

Kaalaa Baunaa i think is... the least bad, having played the story? her design is still, to be blunt, rather sexualized, but there's at least been some amount of effort as far as i can tell (i do like her connections to astronomy, which is a very long tradition in India that dates back very far). i'd love to see her in actual traditional garb still, but she's definitely the one i'm least equipped to speak on.

Shamane though. oh boy, Shamane is a mess. i love him as a character, he's a delight, but there are a lot of reasons his design is a problem. when i talked about the "ear feather" thing i was more or less explicitly referencing this post, and his name is... questionable? more pertinently, though, he's using a hell of a lot of Native American aesthetics and stereotypes (he's a "shaman" with deep connections to nature, he has "native patterns" baked into pretty much all of his animations, i could go on it gets so much worse) for someone who is ostensibly the child of a regular Indian family.

so... yes, SWANA, Rromani, and First Nations people should get a say in if they think these designs are offensive. and they have been saying designs like these are offensive for years.

#Anonymous #links to character pages included so anyone who'd like to chip in here can do so #warning though it is a Lot good gods #racism #reverse 1999 #i was honestly not sure on maintagging my last one but this one i am going to maintag because having slept on it --#yeah no these designs are BAD bad #also for the record: i like rev19! a lot!#i like that for the most part it's able to deal with topics of marginalization in a nuanced and thoughtful manner!#and that's WHY this thing bugs me as bad as it does and why i'm talking about it -- i KNOW the game can be better than this #i can't throw up my hands here and write it off as a lost cause because i've seen it do things like this justice #so i'd rather talk about what it's doing wrong here than pretend everything's fine and hold it up on a pedestal

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originemesis · 6 months ago

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@deathinfeathers xxx

"...it...was a genuine answer, sir..."

Like two solitary birds forced to share a too-small enclosure, communication doesn't always come easy. Humans are very expressive, she has learned, and they do not always say the things that they mean. Even when they do, sometimes they use their words in a way that makes it needlessly difficult to decipher their contents. Sarcasm, euphemisms, slang-terms, these things bolster the commander's vocabulary in ample proportions and the habit never ceases to inconvenience her—the same way she supposes her brusque manner of speaking vexes him. Something that she is actively trying to combat by injecting a little more vitality into her otherwise drab phraseology.

"...the sound that you enjoy...it is much harsher than what I typically hear around the golden city...it exudes a certain brutality...I think that makes them nervous...people are discomforted by things that they are not used to. That they do not understand..."

She shifts in her seat atop his lap, scooting backwards until the small of her back meets with his hefty abdomen, miniscule shape all but dwarfed beneath his imposing stature. While he speaks on she absently thumbs the fringes of the instrument, studying the unique vibrations of each string he plucks, but she's quick to fall stock still when the commander raises a hand to capture the cherubic contours of her face in his obsidian talons.

Head tipped back, she has nowhere to look but right into the pixelated display of his visor while he smushes her face as if she were a beloved lapcat. Something in his carriage elicits an odd sort of sensation in the surface of her skin, a warm and restless feeling that makes her feathers stand on end and her features flush a stark gold that all but matches the sunlight yellow in her eyes...what is he on about now?

"...I...don't see why I couldn't? I have trained rigorously for this station for many years, sir...whatever you're..."packing"...won't deter me from tending my duties to the absolute best of my ability..."

"Oh-...?" Well her perception of the human condition to not be so truthful with one's messages without out right lying is spot on, at least. Though maybe she doesn't notice how the subtle bat of her eyes and the timely turn around of her response could translate to her finally playing his game. "So you're being cute now? Okay~ I can fuck with it." Handle it, he meant. But surely she's used to his harsh handle on words by now. After all, she's the top candidate to have been exposed to his soul's shredding frequencies. Mainly now whenever he feels like playing a round of ripping a court room's ceiling tiles off with well aimed slams on the great ax that served as his channeling vessel, but also whatever exposure her previous handlers had solicited to best hand pick members of a flock that could stay in the sky near any thunderous pulses he should emit.

Her observation, carefully curated as ever to best appease his own sense of assuredness amidst a city as golden as the feathers he holstered at his sides, gives him pause, but no sooner pushes back with a slouchy shrug, the seat they shared creaking as he leans into the backrest. "Yeah well, humanity's side of this simulation isn't what I'd call...cadence for the many. They told me you'd understand." The commander adds, though he's starting to wonder if that understanding is really just the tolerance of a soldier forged under just the right amount of pressure. "Best in the academy, was it? Hah- nerd." Though he seems pleased to dangle that kernel over her head like she'd even find offense at his jovial jabs at this point, the hint of fondness suggests he enjoys pecking at her outside of their preening hours.

It's the curve of her back suddenly finding a suitable backrest against the folds in his robe that gives him enough wherewithal to detect the ever uniform scent of anise, steel and shoe polish she brings into a room, and with a rumbling exhale, the rest of his stomach flexed briefly with a hitch of breath spills forward to fill the gap. Comfy! Albeit, a tad distracting to the music lesson when the metronome of his soul's steady pulse begins the slow migration south.

With her head tipped in his talons, he finds through some fond squishing that her cheeks bely that granite exterior she so often exudes. Proper. Probably laces her boots every night and shit. The only thing that might convince him that she's not just a slab of rock brought to life like he a handful of dust is the golden flash of heat creeping along the bridge of her button nose- a sweet splash of honey to offset the monochrome. Precious. Almost as much as her insistence for him to let her do her job. Fine.

Talon tips loosen their claim, though not without sliding beneath her chin, passing a pale throat on the way to cup the side of her cheek where the golden heat seemed most concentrated. She can probably hear the whirring of fans in his mask from this distance, but certainly a chuckle as he traces slow, doting circles into the yellow apple of her cheek with his thumb. "That right? Alright. Prove it ~ " Even if she was of no comparable size next to his to serve as a support beam to his ongoing dilapidation.

"Kiss me."

#//a loyalty smooch duh thats def all it is-#deathinfeathers #suggestive cw #verse ; // the crusades

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crazyk-imagine · 2 years ago

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The Cousin

So, this slowly became Bob x reader (very brief [NO REGRETS!])

*This is the only nice gif where you can see the faces of the whole TGM crew

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“Boys, this here, is Bagman,” Natasha says with a smirk.

“Hangman,” Jake corrects her with his lips tugged upwards.

“Potato, pohtato,” you say, handing Bob a pool cue.

“If it ain’t the voice of an angel,” Jake turns, pushing himself off the pool table. He stops in front of you, pulling you in for a hug.

“How you doin’, Bagman?”

He pulls back, shaking his head. “Come on.”

You shake your head, “it suits you.” You shove him to the side, “does anyone else want anything? I figured I’d ask before I go back and help Peggy Sue.” You bite your bottom lip to hide your amusement.

“Stop calling me that!”

You turn, shouting back at Penny, “never!” You let out a deep breath, smiling at the group. “Excuse me for that. Where are my manners? Hi,” you tell them your name.

They nod.

Javy gives you a little wave, you wave back.

At least you know one of them, or at least, can put a face to the voice (Jake never had good wifi whenever he tries to facetime you).

“How- uh- how exactly do you know Bagman?” Natasha asks, tilting her heading, trying to figure it out… she can’t.

You purse your lips, “you have no friend other than Javy, don’t you? You seriously pissed off that many people and still managed to keep that one.”

“Should I take offense to that?” Javy chimes in.

“Shut up!”

He backs away, letting the two of you talk.

“First off, rude. My feelings are very hurt, feathers. And second, why did you tell them who you are? There is a reason I didn’t tell them anything about my family-”

“You’re making me sound like I’m your mistress.”

He curls his lip in disgust, “gross. Why did you have to go there?”

“I didn’t have to but, I knew it was one way to shut your dumbass up.”

“Feathers!”

You use your thumb to point back, “oh, look at that. I gotta go. So nice to meet you all. I’ll get your drinks later.” You rush back over to Penny, taking over one side of the bar while she does the other.

“How come we never knew you had a cousin?” Bradley asks, stealing Jake’s shot.

“First off, Chicken, don’t talk about her. And none- and I mean none of you are to date her.” He points to each of his future pilot classmates, “you hear me.”

Reuben shakes his head.

Mickey covers his mouth to hide his laughter.

Even Javy, Jake’s best friend (even though he [Jake] would never admit it) is doing his best to hide his snickering.

Natasha and Callie shake their heads at their behaviors.

“What’s so funny?” The cocky blond pilot steals the pool cue back from Mickey, smirking at Natasha before taking his shot.

“You mean besides the fact that Bob is uh-” she scratches her temple before pointing to the drink station in the middle of the bar.

Your cousin turns his head, seeing that- “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Something tells me you’re not gonna have much of a say with what happens between those two.”

“Shut up, Princess Phoenix…” he looks up from the pool table, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “I win.”

Reuben slaps a ten-dollar bill into Mickey’s hand.

And let’s just say Bob has never been more nervous than he was in that moment.

It’s safe to say Jake had to learn how to be nice and stop calling him baby on board (in front of you).

Oh, and if someone happens to tattle (Bradley and Javy, sometimes at the same time [it’s a whole thing we’ll get into that some other time, if anyone wants] other times it’s one right after the other, as if it’s some sort of game).

#top gun #top gun maverick #Top Gun: Maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x you #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun blurb #top gun maverick blurb #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd blurb #bob floyd blurb #crazyk-imagine

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miekasa · 4 years ago

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future nostalgia (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader, armin is absolutely putting in the work and deserves wingman of the year, mikasa is your well-reasoned, protective friend how you like them apples

↯ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, everybody is a little bit of an idiot, armin and eren supremacy, i will find a way to make levi captain of something in any and every au

↯ word count: 1.5k

↯ summary: armin arlert is the greatest wingman a boy could ask for; unfortunately he’s also oblivious as hell and painfully single himself, but you know what, he’s doing his best (aka you and eren putting your friends through the mental wingman/wingwoman olympics).

↯ notes: i’m running out of gifs to use i’m going to have to learn how to use photoshop to make headers rip in peace to me, also this an old piece, reworked for eren again, sometimes i cheat off of myself it’s okay

“Just come by the rink during practice,” Armin pleas, “I promise, he can put his hot-headedness to good use!”

“I don’t doubt that,” you chuckle, your voice booming through the speaker of his phone, “But I’m pretty sure the rink is closed to non-athletes or team members, Armin.”

“But I can get you access! Manager’s privileges!” Armin boasts.

“While I appreciate the reminder about how single you think I am—and, I do, truly, Armin, from the bottom of my heart, thank you—you don’t have to try and set me up with one of your hockey jockeys.”

“They’re not jockeys!” Armin protests.

“Reiner Braun is most definitely a jockey.”

Armin slumps down a bit. Okay, most of them are good people. Most of the time. Look, Reiner is the exception, not the norm, but even he could be analytical and composed when he needed to be.

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Armin threatens.

“Fine, then I’ll tell him that you almost leaked his nudes to the entire girls volleyball team freshman year.”

“You play dirty,” Armin pouts, face growing red at the memory. (In his defense, it was freshman year, pretty much the first time in his life he’d had alcohol unsupervised, and in his drunken haze he thought he might have been doing Reiner a favor; he was pining over Christa pretty hard). “Which is exactly why you’ll love Eren!”

“Eren, still?” you question, trying to hide the amusement in your tone. “What’s the infatuation with me and Eren? You know, if I’m being honest, Jean is more my type, or even the captain—what’s his name again?”

“You mean Levi?” Armin questions, incredulous, “He’s the exact opposite of your type, don’t lie to me!”

“He’s still hot.”

“Is he really?” Mikasa’s voice questions doubtfully; and you can practically feel her rolling her eyes from across the receiver, “You can do better than him, (Y/N).”

“Wait, am I on speaker?” you ask.

“Maybe, doesn’t matter,” Armin hums, brushing away the topic, “Like I was saying, Eren is great, and you’re great, so you’d be great together! Plus, he’s kind of loaded, and very generous. Not that you’re shallow or anything, but I’m just saying, he’d take you on nice dates.”

“You’re kind of loaded and you don’t take me on nice dates.”

“Because we’re not dating.”

“You could take me on a friend date,” you muse, “Don’t be stingy, Armin.”

“She has a point,” Mikasa quips, “You always go to the fancy museums and don’t invite us.”

“Because the last time I did, you fell asleep! In the middle of the coral reef exhibit!” Armin whines.

“Because it was boring as fuck,” Mikasa deadpans, prompting you to chuckle.

“I have to agree. I’m afraid if you and Eren have the same taste in dates, it will never work out.”

“We don’t!” Armin insists, “Look, Eren is exactly your type, (Y/N), I’m telling you! He’s cute, athletic, but not bulky, and little clumsy, but it can be charming! Plus he loves puppies, cares about the environment, believes the healthcare system is corrupt, and hates most branches of law enforcement! What more could you want!”

“Armin,” you pause, holding back your laughter, “Maybe you should set yourself up with Eren if you think he’s that great.”

Armin chokes on the other end of the line, and your chuckles stumble out; you can imagine the blonde growing red and increasingly embarrassed with every passing second.

Mikasa hums. “Armin and Eren do have good chemistry—”

“Hello?! I don’t want to date Eren!”

“—but, I’ll vouch for Eren on this, too,” Mikasa continues, “I think you two would be good together.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You’d always known Mikasa was in support of setting you up with Eren too—albeit much more subtle than her blonde counterpart—but she’d never said it explicitly; showing her approval in contended nods and hums whenever Armin would scheme to get you and Eren together. It was somewhat reassuring to hear.

You’re about to continue teasing Armin about the subject, when you hear your apartment door unlock. You shift your phone to your other hand, as you hear the sound of keys clanging onto the hook near the door.

“Look, guys, I gotta go,” you tell him, “This is been fun, but maybe focus on working out your feelings before setting me up, yeah? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of such a beautiful friends to lovers story.”

“Will you—I want you to date Eren, not date him myself! There—be quiet, Mikasa—there are no feelings to work out, I don��t even like g—”

“Sounds, good Armin,” you chuckle, words hurried as you hear footsteps approaching you, “Try and get Levi’s number for me, would you? Rumor has it he’s loaded, too—old money rich and everything.”

“But Eren is perfect—” is all you hear before you end the call, a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, just as your thumb presses against your screen.

Ruffled, brown hair falls onto your shoulders as a chin is propped up against your neck; a flurry feather light kisses greeting you soon after. You hum, reaching your hand back to curl into the brown tresses, a final, exaggerated kiss pressed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Why are you trying to get Captain’s number,” Eren questions, voice muffled as he nuzzles his nose behind your ear, “No offense, but I think you’d have to line up behind his hundred and one fangirls first, babe.”

You chuckle lightly, neck growing warm as Eren continues to bury himself into your skin. His is cold from the winter air, but you don’t know why he insists on inflicting it onto you, when you know he’ll be back to furnace temperatures within the next ten minutes.

“I’m just messing with Armin,” you answer, resting on of your hands over Eren’s at your waist and giving it a squeeze, “He’s still trying to set us up.”

Eren chuckles, undoing his hold on you to spin you around to face him, cold hands cupping either side of your face. You scrunch your nose at the frigid feeling, but Eren finds it cute, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose as an apology.

“Well, Armin is nothing if not loyal,” Eren muses.

“He’s too good for you,” you jest, poking at Eren’s forehead playfully, “He’s putting in all this work to be a good wingman, and you’re slacking off.”

“Technically, he’s not doing any work, we’re already together.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Eren questions, using his hands to squish your cheeks together, “I wanted to tell him two months ago.”

“First of all, this secret thing was your idea to begin with,” you point out, “Which—oh, by the way, I told you Mikasa approves of you; she said we’d be cute together on the phone.”

“That doesn’t mean she still won’t castrate me if we ever break up,” Eren says, a shudder running down his spine at the thought of it.

It’s not that he wanted to keep your relationship a complete secret from all of your friends forever, but he was hesitant at first, unsure of how your two friend groups would merge and take the news. And, he knew how much Mikasa cared about you, and truthfully, the dark haired girl scared him a little.

But it was bordering on half a year now, and he was certain that somebody would catch on soon enough. That, or Eren would accidentally let it slip to the entire hockey team one of these days—he almost has on a handful of occasions, but you don’t need to know about all of that.

And while a part of him did like the privacy that came along with dating in secrecy, Eren was finding it increasingly difficult to pretend to not be in love with you whenever you two went out with your friends; and to not brag that he had a super hot, super supportive girlfriend to wear his jersey during games, and Jean didn’t.

“You have plans to break up with me, Jaeger?” you question, but there’s a playful lilt in your voice.

It makes Eren grin, using his grip on your face to pull you closer, words ghosting over your lips before he pulls you in for a kiss, “Not in a million years.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren fluff #eren smut #levi x reader

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years ago

Text

For The Very First Time

Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius Black just might be more sentimental than you think when he takes you on a trip down memory lane.

Prompt used: “Sorry how do you spell that?”

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: mild angst, smoking, fluff, kissing

A/N: This is for @sweeterthansammy ’s 1k writing challenge! I hope you enjoy. Flash backs are italicized, and the prompt I used is bolded!

The weather was a little bit chillier now that the sun was dipping down in the sky, chilly enough for a sweater or a light jacket. Something you didn’t have much time to think about with the spontaneity of Sirius’ plans and just how urgent he’d been making them out to be. Really, there was no rush and he knew that, of course he knew that, but he was far too eager for his own good and you knew that.

You were certain he’d under dressed when you found him standing by the front door, leaning against the frame in that tattered old jean jacket. The one there’s no chance in him getting rid of, not in a million years. It’s got a myriad of holes here and there in the faded, washed out denim, the cuffs having seen better days as the frayed material dangles down half torn. A miscellaneous pin from James is still on there, even that bright yellow smiley face is stuck on the collar that you’d put there ages ago. It was more than a well worn article of clothing, that much was for sure.

You managed to break away from James and Lily’s conversation, more so Lily, and any other time you wouldn’t have minded a single bit. You absolutely wouldn’t have, but with Sirius calling you from the floor below in the small Potter home, you find yourself having no choice but to give in to saving the conversation for later in favor of quieting the raven haired wizard.

You walk down the stairs until equally tattered converse come into view, then those same old black denim jeans, the those frayed jean jacket cuffs. You smell the distinct smell, something that’d only further been confirmed as you reach the very last step.

“Either I’m a fool, or time just stopped,” he says, flicking the ashes from his cigarette as he smiled down at you.

The corner of your mouth quirks up, the kind of smile he knows isn’t a hundred percent sweet.

“I think you’re just a fool, Pads,” you say, that smile widening a fraction. There it is. He walked right into that one and he knew it, rolling his eyes. “And I don’t think Mr. Potter would approve of you smoking in his beloved family home.”

“Which is exactly why I’m standing outside,” he grins before bringing the cigarette back to his lips, throwing his hands up as he takes one step backwards through the threshold of the doorway just so he can officially say that he is in fact outside and not at all breaking the rules of the residence.

Sirius Black liked to bend the rules when he could, he liked to walk on the wild side just about every chance he got no matter how trivial it may be. He claims it’s the only way to be, claims that’s what having fun is all about and anything less is boring. Nonchalance is simply in his nature.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” you counter, hopping off the very last step when he tugged on your hand to urge you out the door.

He pulled the door shut behind him and stopped you in your tracks, making you turn on your heel before you could take another step forward. You look up at him with a narrowed gaze and await an explanation as to just why it is he’s gone and stopped you when all he’s done the past ten minutes is tell you how desperately he’d wanted to go. So you stand and your stare and you watch as smoke blows past parted lips, lips that quirk upwards in a smile as he looks at you.

In that moment, he dips down, pressing his lips on yours in a kiss that’s as smoky as ever and the gesture alone has your smile pressing into his kiss. A smile that’s genuine just as much as it’s teasing.

“I thought we had somewhere to be?” You say, breaking away as you look up at him with a raised brow.

“We do,” he says, taking another puff before you snag the cigarette right from between his fingers, dropping it to the little stone walkway before putting it out beneath your boot.

You take notice of his pursed lips that fight a smile, at the squinted gaze he’s got set on you as you spin on your heel and walk ahead, leaving him to stand there and stare after you for a fleeting moment or two. You’ve got all the amusement in the world sitting on your expression and he doesn’t even need to see it to know it, he can tell just by simply hearing the laugh fall from your lips. He can see it as he catches up to you within a second’s time.

“How very rude of you,” he says in faux offense, but it’s not too long before you feel the tips of his fingers brushing against yours.

“How very generous of me,” you counter, and his scoff doesn’t go unheard.

The next time you look up at him, he’s got those sunshine yellow shades on, those obnoxiously yellow sunglasses that sit on his nose seemingly more often than not. James had gotten them for him at the town fair just a few years back, a gift just for laughs that he’d gotten with the rest of his tickets. They were bright and they were bold and very much fitting for the year nineteen-eighty-one, but he’d gone and kept them. Of course he did.

Sirius Black kept every single thing his friends have ever given him no matter how ridiculous or trivial it may have seemed. Even when he was just a child still stuck in his dreaded family home, he’d saved a shoe box from a pair of dress shoes he absolutely hated wearing, one pair of dozens that inevitably got scuffed up just a little too much for the liking of his parents before they’d gone and bought him a new pair to look more presentable for the family image. Aside from that, he’d kept a shoe box, one that he had tucked under his bed.

Inside were all the letters that James and Remus had sent him by owl over summer break, each and every letter even if it was simply James complaining about some nonsensical thing or a joke or if it was Remus writing to see if he’d gotten his Hogwarts letter yet. He kept all of them. He kept the four leaf clover James had stumbled upon, and he kept that special quill Remus had swiped from Snape. He never knew his best friend had a knack for being mischievous until that moment.

He’d read those letters on his best nights and his worst, read them just for so. They were tattered and worn at the creases where they were folded, but he didn’t plan on getting rid of them any time soon.

Over the years that sentimental collection grew and grew, adding to it a myriad of pressed flowers and leaves from Lily, and bookmarks from Remus, postcards from James that were the absolute most ridiculous he could find. You added to it with miscellaneous letters and a guitar pick you thought he might like. He never used it, he didn’t want to ruin it. He kept that feather boa you’d found and even that lucky coin. He kept it all.

Sirius Black was more sentimental than he let on, he’s got a softer heart than he showcased to most, he kept every one of those things no matter how stupid or trivial it may seem to someone else. But he’d never in a million years admit it. James had found it once, but he never said a word about it.

“You never did tell me where we’re going,” you say, kicking a pebble out of your way as you walked along the cracked sidewalk.

“I believe that’s the point of a surprise, love,” he says, and you catch his smile as you look up at him, lips pursed as you nudge him with your elbow.

“You’re terrible at surprises,” you tease, your smile in your voice and had he not been wearing those sunglasses at sunset, you’d have been able to see his eye roll. But you knew him well enough to know he’d gone and done it regardless of the visual confirmation.

“Have I ever told you you’re a pain?” He asked, his chuckle following his words as he grins ahead, glancing down at you briefly.

“Yes, and I take that as a compliment,” you say, hearing his continued laughter as he shakes his head.

You try and put the pieces together, try and pick up any hints to put together any form of information that just might lead you in the direction of where you could possibly be going. It was in town, that you knew for certain. It was somewhere, local otherwise he’d have taken Mr. Potter’s car. The attire was no use in a giveaway because there was not a single chance there’d be an occasion where you’d find Sirius taking you somewhere in which you’d need to dress to the nines. The days of pristine suits and freshly polished shoes were far behind him, he hated dressing up with everything that he had.

He didn’t even dress up above and beyond for James and Lily’s wedding; well, he did, but he dressed down his suit with a half loosened tie that wound up being a headband and that tattered pair of converse. And he even wore those same old yellow sunglasses.

It was early evening, and things don’t tend to stay open for that much longer, so that narrows things down just a little bit more. Makes things just a little bit clearer, but it all proved to be not as helpful as you’d like it to be.

The small town was dotted with street lamps casting the area in a warm glow as it began to get darker and darker outside. The surrounding trees held reddening leaves that dropped and fluttered to the ground when the breeze sifted through them. And it’s only then that it hits you, the smell of coffee and spice that wafts through the air the closer you get. The sweetened air the closer you got. You even heard that familiar little clang of the bell over the door.

It wasn’t until then that you’d realized that maybe this was his surprise, that it absolutely was judging by the way he’d been biting the inside of his cheek to stifle his grin.

“Sirius Black, is this what I think it is?” You ask, your brow raised as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

Your question is answered when that smile breaks through, when you do indeed stop in front of the door to that ever familiar coffee shop and he holds the door open for you to step inside. It’s noticeably warmer than the chilly weather outside, cozier than ever as the smell of coffee washes over you. It looked just the same as when you were here last, felt just as inviting as it always did.

There were a few carved pumpkins sitting outside the door, an assortment of fall decorations littering inside the small shop. Each of the little wooden tables have cozy orange table cloths, and string lights are hung. The entirety of the shop smelled like fall festive drinks and what was left of the pumpkin rolls and muffins, not to mention the sweeter than sweet scented candles that were lit.

He tugged on your hand as he stepped up to the counter.

“Can I get a black coffee with two creams and a hot chocolate?” He asks, dropping your hand to dig around for his wallet in the pocket of his jacket.

That was another thing, Mr. Potter had gifted him that very same wallet a handful of years ago. It was a hand-me-down, but that was the least of his concerns when he was given the leather wallet. He didn’t care about the scratches or worn corners. That was the first real gift he’d ever gotten that had true thoughtfulness behind it.

He remembered your order like the back of his hand, and he’d gotten the same thing every single time.

The drinks were ready in no time and he put some money on the counter with a little extra for a tip, handing you yours as he headed towards that ever familiar table tucked away in the corner by the window.

He ran his hand through his hair, sitting those sunglasses back on the top of his head once more to push his hair out of his face. Your smile was fond as you looked at him, a stubborn chunk of black hair dipping over his forehead and brushing against the tip of his nose anyway.

“Remember this place, love?” He asks, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“As if I’d ever forget,” you say, a laugh leaving your lips.

Of course you did, it was hard to forget the one and only place you’d met Sirius black in a few years back.

It was a hectic afternoon, customer after customer flooding into the coffee shop especially now that the fall season was sweeping in at last. Things were always busy around this time of year, things were always busy around this time of day, so you’d come to expect the rush hour by now after all this time you’ve worked there.

Things were fairly simple once you got the hang of it, once you were able to do things with a practiced ease and it made the line of customers a little bit easier to move along. Most of them you knew by name, most of them you knew their orders because they never failed to get the very same thing each and every day that they came in. Some of them came in every day, some of them came in every week, some of them even had a select day of the week that they stopped in for their usual order.

It was one of the things you liked about working there. The regular customers were friendly as ever and made the workload a little easier given the prior knowledge of just what they get and how they like it, and it makes the time fly just a little bit faster.

The day hadn’t been your finest, you’d gone and spilled half a cup of hot chocolate on your apron, one you didn’t have the time to swap out and you’re quite sure you’d still had a smear of flour on your face from catching up on baking that morning before opening time. But that clumsiness was only in your nature and it was everything you expected from yourself.

“Y/n, can you cover up front? There’s someone waiting.”

That clumsiness only heightened at the sight of a new face, one you don’t believe you’ve seen frequent the shop before. He’s got a mess of black hair he keeps tucking behind his ear, yellow sunglasses dangling from the collar of a Queen t-shirt as his gaze focuses out of the window to his left. He’s got a pack of cigarettes tucked in the front pocket of his jean jacket and pin on the other.

You quit your staring, you quit while you were ahead as you smoothed your coffee stained apron.

“What can I get for you today?” You ask, capturing his attention as he looks at you.

You swallow thickly as your gaze meets gray eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You take notice of the dimple in his chin and the strands of dark hair that dip down over his forehead as he leans against the counter.

“Just a black coffee with two creams, please,” he says.

“Your name?”

“Sirius.”

You nod with a smile as you snag a cup and the marker from your pocket, turning on your heel to head towards the coffee as you uncapped your marker before you very quickly made that realization and spun back around. In the process, you nearly tripped over your own two feet and you can feel the heat blossoming in your cheeks.

“Sorry, how do you spell that?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

You hear the softness of chuckle as he looks at you, surprisingly not out of mocking even with the way you just made a fool of yourself in front of him. He spelled it out for you with a smile, and you turned away without tripping this time. You made his drink just how he’d asked, your heart racing in your chest the entirety of the two minutes it took to make it as you thought about his smile.

You tried your best to stall, to steal a little bit more time before you had to go back to the counter to face him once more. To give yourself a little more time to let the heat in your cheeks cool off.

You pressed on the lid to his cup and took a breath, turning around and heading back to the counter where he stood leaning against it still.

“One coffee with two creams for Sirius,” you say, setting the to-go cup on the counter as he dug around his pocket for some money.

He counted it out in his palm as his hair fell in his eyes, quickly brushed away as he ran his hand through his hair and set the money down in exchange for his drink, and a little extra for a tip.

You notice the way his gaze lingers on you for a little bit longer, you notice it as the seconds pass and your heart races. It lingers on you and you can see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up as he does, spinning the cup in his hand out of an absentminded habit as his gray gaze finally meets yours.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, love,” he says, pointing to his own cheek as a signal for your own face.

Your hand shoots up immediately to swipe across your cheek, the heat in your face flooding back once more as you swipe your fingers across your skin, pulling back to see that dreaded flour on your face that you knew was bound to be there from that morning.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say with a laugh and a smile, his following soon after as he nods.

There’s a sort of tension that simmers as you meet his gaze once more, as it bounces to his smile and you’re not quite sure if time actually stopped or if this is some cliche moving moment happening to you in the middle of your shift, or neither and you’re just being ridiculous. That, it’s probably that one.

Either way, you find yourself interrupted by the ding of the bell to your side on the counter from a customer growing impatient, a call of your name sounding over your shoulder just behind you. It all brings you back to reality.

“Have a nice day, Sirius,” you say, watching as he nods.

“I’ll see you around.”

With that, he offers you that same smile that had your mind on it for a ridiculous amount of time, that smile that made your heart race, and he turned away and headed out that door with a little ding of the bell over the door. He headed down the sidewalk as he snagged a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it before he disappeared around the corner.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Sirius asks, grabbing your attention as he gazes at you over the rim of his cup, gray eyes full of amusement.

“About what?” You ask, playing into it with a half smile even though you know you’re bound to be met with a tease.

“That time you tripped over your own two feet. I mean, do I really have that effect on people, love?” He jest, feeling you kick his foot just under the table.

There it is.

“Must you be so cocky, Pads?” You ask, your gaze glimmering with amusement as you purse your lips.

“I’m afraid I must,” he says.

You roll your eyes as you sip on your drink, eyeing the smile forming on his lips. “What?”

He chuckles as he shakes his head, his gaze dropping down as he swirls his drink in his hands and bites the inside of his cheek. His stare is more amused than ever as he looks at you again, that same lingering gaze set on you in the very same way it had been all those years ago and you knew it couldn’t have meant anything good. If it was anything like that very first time, you were bound to feel your cheeks grow hot even though you’ve known the troublemaker for years.

He doesn’t say anything at first, quiet as he lifts his hand and swipes it across the top of your lip and all the way to the corner of your mouth. He’s just as amused as he wipes away some hot chocolate that’s been left behind from your sip, his chuckle immediate.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, love,” he says, and you hear that teasing tone in his voice that he’s always got, that mischief dancing in his eyes.

“I truly think it’s you that’s the pain,” you huff, biting back your smile.

He chuckles. “‘S that so?”

You nod as you smile at him. “Very much so.”

He bites his lip momentarily as he looks at you, that pesky chunk of his hair falling back down in his face. “I take that as a compliment.”

He used your earlier words, of course he did, that’s just how Sirius Black is. Taunting and teasing in the most lighthearted of ways and that’s something that’s always been so, that’s something that always will be so forever and ever.

He’s got the tip of the arm of his sunglasses between his teeth, having given up on using them to hold back his hair as he looks around the little coffee shop where it all began, as he looks out the window at passers by, the corner of his mouth quirking up when he feels your gaze on him. It widens a fraction as he feels you get up, feels you swing around the edge of the table to take a seat in the booth bench next to him rather than sit across from him.

You’re quiet for a few moments as you rest your head on his shoulder. The foot traffic in the shop was dwindling as it neared closing time, growing less and less busy until it was starting to become just the two of you there. But you weren’t so focused on the details, not when you’ve been in your own little world with the one stealing your attention right next to you as you sat in your usual booth in the corner.

This was it, this was where it all began, this was where you’d met the chaos that is Sirius Black. The chaos that’s brought nothing but good into your life, nothing but a thrilling excitement that only he could bring.

You lift your head and look up at him, his gaze falling on you within a moment’s time. You see that smile, that smile that makes your heart race a mile a minute. You see it and you mirror it as you look at him. It’s only a matter of seconds before you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet and tasting of hot chocolate and coffee and a little bit of that smoke that never quite left his lips.

You kiss him before you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling his eyes on you. You take a sip as you stifle your smile, the arm of his glasses between his teeth once more as that smile he’s got remains as you look at him. You smile when you look away, head shaking as you nudge his foot with yours.

This is where it all began a handful of years ago. This is where you met Sirius Black for the very first time.

—

Tags: @nancybycrs @pogueslandia @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @writeroutoftime @awritingtree @lilypad-55449 @medalloway-blog @vicouscirce @mon4907 @violetrainbow412-blog

#sammy's 1k celebration #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction

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redorich · 4 years ago

Note

In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them.

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #ethoslab #zedaphplays #impulsesv #tango tek #xisuma #bdubs #zombiecleo #falsesymmetry #iskall85 #joe hills #grian #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #me.cpp #me.txt

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sabraeal · 3 years ago

Note

Consider: Obi is green-red color blind

A Color by Any Other Name

Written for @aeroplaneblues for a surprise birthday gift! Many months ago she mentioned wanted to see a colorblind Obi, and I said, WELL WHAT A GOOD EXCUSE TO WRITE THIS PROMPT JOANNA GAVE ME. I hope your birthday is a good one, filled with a lot more nice surprises!

“Are you ever going to introduce me to your guard friends?” Suzu asks around a mouthful of dumpling. “Or are you embarrassed?”

To say Obi is unprepared, would be an understatement; there’s a pork bun lodged between his teeth, his gloves not only coated in pig grease but also far less effective against steam than he’d thought they’d be back when he’d just grabbed a plump little blob off the stall. He’d laughed off Suzu’s concerns about protective equipment; after all, if smiths use leather gloves, they’ve got to be just as good as an oven mitt.

They aren’t. Not to mention the roof of his mouth starting to have a real good think about peeling off and having a vacation. Maybe even with someone who doesn’t eat entire dumplings straight from the basket.

“Wha?” he manages eloquently, nearly drooling spicy meat drippings onto the street.

“I know I’m not cool like they are,” Suzu continues, warming to his new thesis. If his sudden flush of confidence is any measure, he’s spent more of time composing his arguments for this than Obi’s ever seen him work on his actual defense. “And I’m no good with a sword. Or fists. Or really any implement that isn’t a scalpel, and any opponent that isn’t already anesthetized. But I am very smart.”

There’s a thoughtful pause before Suzu adds, “Some people do enjoy that, you know.”

What Obi knows is that this kid tried this conversation on for size in front of Yuzuri, and she didn’t even bother to warn him as a courtesy. See if he buys her any more meat-on-sticks when she’s ‘left her purse in the lab’ now.

“That’s not--” he takes a hurried minute to swallow-- “not what’s happening. I didn’t...”

Even know you knew I didn’t work for the pharmacy. His teeth clamp shut around that winner, and its friend, I didn’t think you lot would want to hang out with a bunch of men without degrees. Not only would that encourage Suzu to make a scene right here, right now, but if it got back to Jirou-- well, if he thought Suzu could turn any day into a disaster, the lieutenant would make that seem like a vacation.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he settles on instead. Similar enough in feel, if...creatively edited. “You scholar types tend to flock together.”

“Well, sure,” Suzu murmurs, stymied, “but we’re friends too, aren’t we? If all my friends are your friends, then all your friends should be my friends.”

Only an academic could talk about arithmetic with that amount of confidence, especially the kind that involved transitive properties and letters, and all sorts of things that made Obi’s head spin.

“Well,” he hums, one boot scratching his calf. “You would know.”

Suzu whirls on him, staring down his long fox-snout of a nose. “You mean it? You’ll really...?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He twitches his shoulders, more casual than he feels. “It’s fine if it’s you.”

There’s always been a lazy lilt to Suzu’s eyes, but it disappears now, all the sleepiness gone to surprise. “Me? You wouldn’t want to bring anyone else?”

“Well, definitely not Kazaha.” The glares he’d get bringing that twiggy pedant into the guardhouse might be enough to drop him dead on the spot. “And Yuzuri would be too popular.”

Suzu grimaces. “The number of admirers she’d get from a wink alone...she’d be unlivable.”

He can see it now, her ponytail bobbing with a buoyant glee, giggling through every painstaking penned line from her fan club-- “Think of all the bad poetry.”

“Honestly, that might make it worth it. At least I’ll feel better about not knowing the difference between a quartet and a quatrain.” Suzu takes a thoughtful bite of him bun. “And you couldn’t bring Shirayuki, of course.”

“Right.” Not a one of them could be trusted to keep their lips sealed; she’d hardly have to take a breath and someone would call her Obi’s lady, or ask how they met, or whether she’s still Mistress behind closed doors--

But Suzu wouldn’t know any of that. “Wait, why?”

“Well...” He has the grace to look chagrined about it, whatever it is. “You know. Her hair...?”

“Oh.” Obi shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

“You guess?” Suzu stares. “Shirayuki has a non-zero amount of stories about being kidnapped for looking like a candied apple, and you guess there might be a fuss about bringing her ‘round to the guardhouse?”

“Well, none of you acted weird about it,” he snips, hiding his annoyance behind a bite of dumpling. “There’s no reason they will.”

“Of course no one at Lilias acted weird, Obi!” he squawks, arms flailing as he talks. “You couldn’t pay them to look at anything but their own project. But when a bunch of normal men with eyes and, uh, other working appendages see a cute girl with red hair and a soft voice, they’re gonna go crazy!”

His palm hooks around his shoulder, thumb digging into the hard knot at his collarbone. “Aw, come on. It’s not that special.”

“Not that--?” Suzu whips around, eyes round as dumplings. “Obi, she’s the only person I’ve ever seen with red hair.”

“You don’t get out much,” Obi deadpans. “No offense.”

“That’s not--” Suzu grunts, throwing up his hands-- “She’s the only person anyone’s ever seen with red hair!”

“Her dad’s is kind of red.” That observation wins him an unimpressed look, one that says you’re missing the point. “And Yuzuri had blue hair when I met her. That’s way more interesting--”

“It was dyed!” Suzu wobbles over to a wall, sitting with his head in his hands. “Shirayuki has a hair color so rare that the birth records in Clarines haven’t noted it in more than fifty years! And you think Yuzuri dying her hair with woad is more impressive.”

“Well, even her natural color is brighter than Miss’s. Not--” he waves a hand between them, quelling-- “that Miss’s hair isn’t nice enough. But I’d think that people would pay more attention to that.”

“...Brighter?” Suzu murmurs after a long moment, stilted. “Obi, could you tell me what color that sign is, right over there?”

“The one for the tea shop?” He wrinkles his nose. “Why--?”

“Just...indulge me for a moment.”

“All right.” He squints up at the moon cresting over a wolf’s head. “Blue.”

“Right, and, um, that coat over there.”

“Yellow.”

“Right.” Suzu’s voice is tight, stressed. “And what I’m wearing?”

Obi squints. This one’s a little harder, but he’s confident when he says, “Green.”

“Ah, right.” Suzu stands, a unsteady on his feet. “That would explain that, then.”

Obi blinks. “Explain what?”

“Obi,” Suzu begins, with all the gravitas of both a grim prognosis and a terrible joke. “You can’t see colors.”

It’s not the first time Obi’s played hound to his prey’s fox, but there’s something distinctly unsettling about it being Suzu that leaves him lagging behind, unsure of himself. Especially with the way he scurries through the concourse, bounding toward the mess hall with this idea caught between his teeth like chicken feathers.

“I can see colors just fine,” Obi informs him with far less confidence than he’d like. “Some of them are just hard to tell apart. Weren’t you and Yuzuri arguing yesterday about whether salmon is orange or pink?”

Suzu waves a hand at him, dismissive. “That’s different. Salmon’s both orange and pink, and what color it looks most like has to do with the composition of your eye-- and it’s pink by the way, with orange undertones--”

Between the two of them, Obi knows who he’d trust to know their colors. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t make out red and green, which is different entirely, and--” the doors to the mess burst open beneath his hands, a noise lost in the din of a hundred scholars trying to share the same table-- “YOU GUYS WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST FOUND.”

The whole of Shidan’s lab-- minus the man himself-- have taken up right by the door, bags and coats piled to save them their places on the bench. Suzu makes short work of the pile on his seat, haphazardly shoving them to the floor as he sits.

Kazaha peers at him and ventures mildly, “A new way to avoid finishing your thesis?”

“No,” Suzu hums between his grit teeth, “but I have found out--”

“I don’t think we need to do this,” Obi murmurs, handing Miss her muffler. “It’s not--”

“Obi,” he intones with far more gravitas than his name has ever strictly deserved, “can’t see colors.”

“Not at all?” Kazaha turns those sharp eyes to him, like he’s a specimen under glass. “Just black and white?”

“I can see just fine,” Obi huffs, tossing Yuzuri her coat before he slides onto the bench, knee knocking into Miss’s in a way that puts his heart through its paces. “Suzu is just making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Is that so?” he hums with a grin. “Then what color is Shirayuki’s hair?”

He stifles a sigh. It’s best to put all this to bed now, before he’s stuck playing what’s this color for the next two years. “Red.”

“What’s the point of this?” Yuzuri yawns, already bored. Obi shoots her a grateful look, glad that at least one of them isn’t going to play Suzu’s game.

It’s too bad he’s already puffed up with unearned confidence, like an evolutionist at a botany lecture. “And what’s the color of Ryuu’s cloak?”

He knows it by heart-- how could he not, when the two most important people in this city wear matching ones-- but still Obi glances up, anticipating a trick. Ryuu stares back, confused and guileless. “Blue.”

“Great, good.” Suzu’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Now what color is your scarf?”

Obi’s fingers knot in the fabric, the weft tickling the pads of his fingers. “Well, it’s...sort of reddish, isn’t it?”

This is the wrong answer.

“It makes so much sense,” Yuzuri murmurs in wonder. “You really don’t know how ugly Suzu’s outfits are. That’s why you still hang out with him.”

“Hey!” Suzu pouts. “That’s not very nice.”

“No, that has nothing to do with color, it’s the cut.” Anxiety spikes through him. “But wait, it is red isn’t it? My scarf?”

“No,” Miss murmurs at his side, cheeks flushes. “Obi, it’s...it’s green.”

He stares down at it, trying to imagine what that might look like. “Green.”

“It looks very nice on you!” Her small fingers wrapping in the fur at his elbow. “It’s your color, really.”

“Oh, sure,” he murmurs, faint. “I guess it matches my eyes.”

“Hey, what do you mean ‘it has nothing to do with the color?’“ Suzu’s hands fly to his hips, brows drawn tight over the long line of his nose. “My clothes are just fine.”

“They aren’t.” Obi leans in next to him, grin feeling thinner than it should. “But I hang out with you anyway, which means you know we’re really friends.”

Kazaha rubs at his chin, where his ode to Shidan’s goatee is failing to thrive. “You know what this also explains?”

Obi blinks. “What?”

“All the black.”

It’s not Kazaha that says it, oh no. That would be too merciful for a mortifying moment out of his life. Instead it’s low and feminine, and when Miss Kiki leans out from the other side of Miss, it’s like a siren emerging from the depths, teeth bared to tear a man to shreds. “What an interesting thing I’ve learned today.”

“Miss Kiki! How--?” He gulps. “Why--?”

“I came to deliver a message from Wirant,” she drawls, too pleased. “And it seems I’ve earned myself a fine tip.”

“No,” he breathes. “You can’t-- you’re not going to tell Master, are you? Or Sir?”

“Oh,” she hums, looking particularly hungry for manflesh. “I certainly will.”

“Oh, there there.” Miss pats his back, the sensation lost among the dozen layers of clothing between them. “I’m sure Kiki won’t tell them, not until you’re ready! You asked her not to.”

“I think that just means,” Obi mutters, voice muffled by his arms and the wall he’s throwing himself over, “that she’ll just enjoy telling them more.”

“Ah...” He doesn’t need to see her to know her grimace. “Yes, that’s...probably right.”

He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. It helps a little. So does a bit of flailing.

“They won’t make a big deal out of it,” Miss says, changing tack. “It hardly changes anything! I’m sure they’ll just forget as soon as she tells them.”

He peeps one eye over his elbow. “That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t spent the last half an hour playing What’s That Color.”

“Well,” she wheedles, “they are scholars.”

Obi groans, loud and long, which doesn’t help; but it echoes out over the rooftops, returning back to him, which does.

“How...?”

Miss hesitates, a gloved finger pressed to her lips. He sighs, already braced for the onslaught-- how didn’t you know? how did you go so long without knowing your colors? how do you find people if you can’t even tell what hair color they have--?

“How did you notice?”

Obi lifts his head, unblinking. “What?”

“How did you notice?” Miss repeats, more firmly this time. “You’ve spent your whole life this way, haven’t you? It must have taken something really special to realize there was more than what you see.”

“Uh.” It’s nice that it’s darker here, that it’s cold. He has perfect legitimate reasons to be flushed. “Well, it was Suzu really. He mentioned that--” his teeth clamp down around his words, not letting them out without a hasty edit-- “that people think your hair’s pretty special, and I said I didn’t get why...”

Miss stiffens beside him, a statue that breathes, and he hastily adds, “Not that you aren’t special, Miss. It’s just, the red...”

“Right.” The words comes out stilted, strange. “You can’t see it. You actually...haven’t ever seen it.”

A silence settles on them like a wool blanket; not one of those nice ones at the castle, or the fleecy ones Miss stockpiles like one day the North might run out of sheep, but the itchy, coarse-woven ones of his childhood. Uncomfortable and smelling faintly of animal.

“So,” he coughs, fixing his gaze out over the city. “What did Kiki want?”

“Oh...” Miss shifts, mouth pulling into a guilty grimace. “She came to tell me that the Queen Dowager has invited me to dinner. Tomorrow night.”

His brows raise. “Well, well.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, head giving the barest shake. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He shouldn’t press, but if he doesn’t, no one else will. “After you told Master--”

“I told him a list of reasons why I thought I would be a better ally as a friend, and not as a...” Miss loses steam, letting her words sigh into the air. “I’d like to believe this has to do with my work with Phostyrias.”

He watches her, careful. “But do you?”

“I don’t know,” she says, which is as good as any no.

Obi’s barely stepped into the Protector’s solar when Master asks, “What color is my jacket?”

His head swivels, delivering a glare so flat carpets would be jealous. Miss Kiki only hums, shoulder lifting in a disinterested shrug. “I said I was going to tell them.”

Fair enough.

“It’s blue,” he deadpans, flopping onto the cushiest divan. He’s too long for it, his boots spilling off one arm a idling over the floor. “Apparently I can see that one just fine.”

According to Miss, at least; she’d unearthed a slip of a book from the university’s library, outlining the limits of his sight. Little Ryuu had pored over it for a day before showing up at his door, flushed faced and nervous.

Garrack always told me I had nice eyes, he’d admitted, lingering at the threshold. I was hoping you could see them.

Cross as he is about the whole thing, Obi can’t regret that. He might not have Miss’s hair, or Suzu’s coat-- thankfully-- but Ryuu’s eyes would always look true to him.

“But not red.” Master’s mouth twitches, far too entertained. “Or green.”

“I do see them,” he protests. “They just...don’t look very different to me.”

Just another shade of yellow and brown, if those books are right. Which they are, since he’d always thought so. Subtly different, like the way Suzu and Yuzuri fought over salmon, or Master and Miss Kiki would dither over chartreuse. Just enough that he’d been able to eke by on keeping his mouth shut and a fondness for black.

Still, there’s nothing worse than finding out something new about yourself this late in the game. Especially when--

“What about the curtains?” Master inquires. “Can you see those?”

--Especially when it’s so endlessly entertaining to everyone else. “I can see them,” he grumbles, sinking further into the cushions. “Just because I can’t see some colors doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Then what about the note?”

Obi rolls his gaze to where Sir perches at his desk. “Huh?”

“To our red-haired guest.” Sir coughs, a flush working its way up his neck. “It’s just-- you wrote that.”

“Oh, His Grace told me that one.” A lifetime ago, it seemed. “‘The red-haired girl, you’ll know her when you see her, I’m sure.’“

Master winces. Obi can admit his talent doesn’t lie with impressions, especially ones of dour old men.

“Right,” Sir presses, voice oddly tight. “But you don’t see-- I mean, how could you find a girl that looks just like everyone else?”

“Ah...” He grimaces, scrubbing at the top of his head. “Well, I just looked for the girl who didn’t belong. It--” he hesitates, suddenly aware of Master’s eyes on him-- “didn’t take very long.”

Master’s frown belongs above one of those prie-dieu, to remind penitents that forgiveness isn’t absolute. “What is that supposed to--?”

“So what does she look like?” No one could say that after a decade of dedication, Miss Kiki doesn’t know how to do her job; she deflects Master’s brewing sour mood with the ease of a professional. “What does her hair look like to you?”

“Uh.” He clears his throat, tugging at his collar. “I wasn’t lying when I said I bought my scarf to match...”

There is a stillness to the room that is too much, too pitiful. Much as he hated it, Obi would much rather be a joke than a charity case.

“Huh,” Sir grunts, gaze still fixed to his neck. “Now I wonder what we all look like to you.”

“Well, I sort of wonder what you all look like to yourselves.” Obi let a sigh float wistfully through his lips. “At least I know that me and Miss still have the same eyes.”

There’s silence again, but this one buzzes, filled with words no one dares to say.

“What?” he laughs, nervous, pulling himself upright. “Don’t we?”

Sir grimaces. “Ah, Obi...”

Miss is quiet when they walk the walls home that night, the winter stillness making the silence and heavy as any drift. Her mouth is pursed, not with anything like anger, but something closer to consideration. As if there’s words back there she’s sorting through, trying to compose a thought that just won’t come.

Well, she should know: she won’t get anywhere if she doesn’t air a few of them out to look at. “Something wrong, Miss?”

She blinks, shaken out from wherever she gone away. Her mind palace, maybe. Suzu’d told him about those once, with busts and painting and curtained alcoves. What she’d do with a place like that, he couldn’t imagine, but if anyone asked, he’d put his money on hers having apothecary drawers instead, and gardens too. The kind with half crumbled walls, ivies curled around every stone. Cluttered desks piled high with books, and one of them with curtain drawn to let its owner nap the afternoon away.

“Oh,” she breathes, finally. “No, no. Nothing’s, um, wrong. I was just...thinking.”

He lifts a knowing brow. “So something is wrong.”

“That’s not what I said,” she informs him, primly. “I was going over my meeting with Haruto, and...”

Her lips snap shut around the words, distress narrowing her eyes. “And...?”

“She didn’t know about my work,” Miss huffs, arms wrapping tight around her chest. “Or, she did, but only what Zen had told her. Which...”

Was far less than the whole of it. He’d heard that part of her argument that night, try as he might not to. “So she invited you as Zen’s ally?”

“No.” The word is colder than any he’s ever heard fall from her lips. “That I wouldn’t mind-- I’m still trying to be his ally, after all, and if she saw me as an asset...” She shook her head. “No, she wanted to meet his...paramour, even if she didn’t say as much.”

Obi grimaces.

“And even that wouldn’t be so bad if...” Miss took a deep, steeling breath. “When I came in, after all the curtsies and pleasantries, she said, your hair is just as red as he said it was.” Her knuckles are white where they wrap around her elbows. “All those years, all those letters, and the only thing he thinks to tell his mother is that my hair...”

The rest is lost in a sigh, a cloud of mist swirling off the wall.

“It must really be something,” Obi deadpans, gaze following it off the edge. “Since it makes all these people forget how smart you are.”

She’s watching him; he can feel it as she sidles up to where he stands, hands unclenching from her arms and splaying on the crenellations instead. “Obi, you really can’t...?”

Miss hesitates, falls silent. He lets her; she’s put enough words in the air to sort through, and now all she needs is time. Obi’s happy to give it to her.

Especially since there’s a rabbit down there in the dark. A small one, moving slow, hind legs churning like clockwork winding up. It’s nose digs into the snow, snuffling around, searching--

“Can you really see better?” Miss asks, startling him back to the wall. “In the dark, I mean. That book said you could.”

“Well, after the past couple days, I’m a little shaky on what’s normal.” He jerks his chin over the edge. “Can you see the rabbit down there? Right by that sapling?”

She blinks, pressing in close. “The what? It’s just...dark out there.”

“Well,” he says, grin tight on his lips. “There’s your answer.”

Miss settles back on her heels, one hand already cupping her chin. “It makes sense. Without the distraction of color, your movement tracking must be much more acute...”

Obi only half-manages to stifle a laugh. “Seems like it definitely distracts everyone else.”

Miss goes quiet; almost too quiet, enough to make his teeth sit on edge. The seconds tick by, and Obi might play at patience, but it’s not in his nature. He glances down, just from the corners of his eyes, but Miss is already watching him, eyes strangely shuttered.

“Obi,” she says, so clear his name rings in his ears. “You don’t...? My hair, it’s not...” Her mouth works, quiet, before she manages, “It’s not anything to you?”

Anything special, she means. Because that’s what he said so stupidly last night, nothing special.

She’d tied it up tonight, finagling the strange looping knots that were partial to the queen’s court, but already some of it’s worn loose, slipping from its pins. “It is,” he murmurs. “I like it.”

She huffs, unimpressed. “But you can’t see it, not really.”

“Of course I can see it,” he laughs, weary. “Maybe not the color, but that’s fine. I like it because it’s yours.”

She ducks her head, and Obi might not be good at colors, but he can see her cheeks flush in the lamplight.

“Miss.” Her gaze lifts to his, no longer shuttered, just full. “Can I ask you something?”

Her breath catches. “Anything.”

“Be straight with me,” he pleads. “We do have the same eye color right?”

“Obi!” Miss‘s laughter bubbles bright with betrayal as she hops down the stairs after him. “Obi, please--”

“Let me grieve, Miss,” he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’ve been a real champ about the rest, but let me have this.”

“Obi!” She catches him round the wrist, mouth twitching as she turns to him. “Is it really so bad that they’re gold?”

“No,” he mutters sullenly, shoulders slumped enough that with two stairs between them, they’re nearly the same height. “It’s just...”

Her eyes flutter wide with curiosity. “Just...?”

“It’s fine enough that they’re unique.” He spits the word with more venom than it deserves. “I just I wanted this one thing in common.”

“In common?” Miss blinks. “You mean, me and...?”

Obi would lay down his life for his mistress, but even she can’t ask him to do this, to lay down his pride for her to walk on.

“Oh!” She flusters, limbs fluttering in the air between them. He’s half-tempted to turn away again, but she grabs his face and holds him steady, her cold, slender fingers caught behind his jaw. “Just-- just one moment...”

“Miss?” he wheezes. This is entirely too close, too much--

“Yes!” He breath flutters over his lips, her own parting in a celebration of teeth. “That’s it. I see it. There’s a little, right there.”

He blinks. “A little what, Miss?”

Her teeth flash around the word, “Green.”

It’s cruel to throw a starving dog a bone, but he snaps it up anyway, heart nearly clogging up his throat with hope. “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Really,” she promises, her nod serious and officious as any she might give Little Ryuu. “There’s a thread, right around the middle. Green. Just like mine.”

“Oh.” His own hands raise, leather muting the feel of her skin, but-- Master always told him about the red thread that bound him and Miss together, that drew them toward their fated meeting, but this-- Obi will take this too. “Thank you, Miss.”

She smiles, eyes shining bright in the lamplight. “No, Obi, it’s my pleasure.”

Not much different between green and red to him, anyway.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #this request has been sitting in my box since 2017 #when i FIRST started joking about this au #and i always meant to get around to it #but obviously my last few years have been filled with some things that have perhaps kept me #from being able to do all the things I meant to 🤣#but once Anne brought this up again #I knew i had a very good excuse to finally get this thing out in the world #AND HERE IT IS #it takes place some amount of time after the current arc

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silenteyes · 4 years ago

Text

Safe and Sound

For Luke’s Birthday~

TW: Implied Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, Celestial Realm Bashing, Angst, Bittersweet Ending

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go

“Simeon?” Luke’s voice cracked.

“Luke, I need you to listen to me carefully, alright?” Simeon would’ve seemed apathetic if not for the fact that tears were currently rolling down his face, his usual smooth voice wavering. “I will never let you go, I’d tear the heavens apart if anyone ever took you away from me. I will risk anything and everything just for you to be safe.”

Simeon cradled the young angel in his embrace, giving him a small salvation from this bitter cruelty we call reality.

When all those shadows almost killed your light

Simeon could not care about Michael or any of the other angels right now. They caused Luke - this bright light, to dim. For all they say about being holy beings, they were like shadows to the young one.

I remember you said don't leave me here alone

“Simeon, please! Don’t... don’t leave me alone,” Luke trembled.

The older angel brushed his lips against his hair and shushed him, rocking him back and forth like a child. he is a child, isn’t he?

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

Luke wailed as he saw his guardians his beloved guardians, the holy creatures of the Celestial Realm all killed and slain, blood everywhere. They were the last beings alive he had connected to his mother, and they’re now dead just like her. Is this really the esteemed Celestial Realm?

It will just be another unofficial document in Celestial History. It wouldn’t be looked up upon, and they would be forgotten in a matter of months. How is it that although killing isn’t justified, it is alright for the Celestial Realm to do it?

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

Luke let out a trembling sigh, and looked at Simeon with so many emotions it would take him more than a century to decipher them.

“Why me, why my mother? Why is our fate despairingly so?”

“Luke, I am not Fate. I cannot answer that. But rest assured, I will help you now. It’s the least I owed to your mother. This holy realm will be no more, for its holiness has been long gone.”

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

Luke glanced away and took out his silver pendant and feathered-circlet. It was the last essence he had of her. If he ever felt unsafe, the two would do just the trick and made him feel protected.

“Young angel, no one can hurt you now.

I will keep you safe, even if it is the last thing I do.”

Isn’t that what Simeon promised too? When did promises became empty words?

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

“If Lucifer is the Morning Star, dare I call you the Morning Light,” Barbatos teased lightly.

“Oh, why is that? It’s not that I’m interested or anything!”

A light chuckle escaped from the butler and the young angel huffed.

“Lucifer was always destined to stay in the shadows, he and... a few others have never seen eye-to-eye.

He is known as the Morningstar, which is rather ironic since he doesn’t really bring the destined light. Stars only appear in the night, which is quite fitting for a character like him.

You - on the other hand, are like the sun. Although you don’t appear every time, your light is always there for other people. The stars need light too. Believe me when I say Lucifer has probably took a liking to you.”

The angel squawked out in offense. “No! Demons are horrible!”

The butler raised one brow. “Me too? And Beelzebub?”

The young angel stilled before flailing his arms, clearly conflicted, which made the butler laugh.

Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire

Luke clutched onto Simeon while the latter hums softly. The outside is too chaotic, and if they stepped out it would be a miracle to even come out in one piece.

It was the Celestial War all over again, except now it is because of a child who was never treated as one.

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Simeon’s cries were so loud, the only thing Luke could hear. Michael has finally found them. Yet - the war still hasn’t stopped.

Azrael and Raphael themselves have already gotten on their knees to beg mercy for the child.

“Have you no dignity? No shame? Getting to your knees just for the servant’s son.”

“Michael, he is but a child. You’re talking about dignity and shame when-”

“QUIET, RAPHAEL. Father has agreed that the servant has brought us many troubles, offsprings of hers would be the same.”

“MICHAEL! THIS IS A DAMNED CHILD! AREN’T YOU THE HOLY PROTECTOR?”

“SHUT IT, AZRAEL. Remember that Father could throw you all off from this place.”

“Michael, please-”

“Simeon.” Gabriel’s cold voice cut him off. “I’ve a message from Father.” He glanced at Luke before staring at Michael. “He supports your decision, and he allows you to do as you please.”

Luke could only close his eyes as Michael dragged him, the three who defended him now desperate.

Perhaps Michael was right. It did seem he brought only trouble.

Hold onto this lullaby even when the music’s gone~

The young angel could only clutch his only possessions the only thing left of his mother as Michael dragged him to the very edge of the Celestial Realm, the same place where the brothers fell from.

“Michael, please! Just let us say a few things!” Raphael’s voice rang out. The young one felt the hand dragging him freeze, before throwing him towards the Healer.

“Only a minute.”

Raphael sobbed in relief as he rushed towards the young angel.

“Simeon and Azrael were restrained. They were fighting back and the others were ordered to put them in seclusion. Whether temporary or not, I haven’t a clue.” Raphael embraced him in a warm hug, and the young angel let his tears fall as he returned the embrace.

“Luke, please stay safe for us. Take this,” Raphael cautiously gave Luke a vial and a small... box?

“Archangel Raphael, I-”

“Hush, young one.” Raphael kissed his forehead. “You will know what to do with the vial. The box is a musical one. It will hopefully bring you comfort. Do not let anyone knows of these items unless you are certain they are trustworthy. You-”

“Time’s up. Raphael, you must’ve said enough.” Not waiting for a response, Michael grabbed the young angel by the collar and dragged him back with Raphael pleading for him to be at least a little gentler.

“From this day onwards, you are banished from the Celestial Realm. You no longer have the right to call yourself a holy being, you are tainted with sin. From now on, you will be stripped off of your title as an angel.”

Luke felt the cold air rushing as he fell, tightly holding the things Raphael gave him.

Gone.

The air was so cold as the Healer’s cries were becoming distant.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

The young angel closed his eyes, not noticing his pendant glowing slightly.

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

The young angel cried silently, waiting for his body to drop to the grounds of Devildom.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

The young angel fell unconscious, not hearing the familiar voices.

Just close your eyes, you'll be alright

The young angel opened his eyes to see a familiar butler, with a few other figures he could barely make out.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

The young one sighed, as being an angel was now just a mere memory.

---

Happy Birthday, Luke <3

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yandere-society · 4 years ago

Text

pjm | “carnal lechery”

pairing: yandere! vampire! jimin x novice nun! virgin! fem. reader

rating: M

genre: yandere au, supernatural (vampire) au, smut, angst

word count: 10.5K

Headline: Halloween Night Massacre; Police Baffled By Murdering Spree

warnings: yandere themes, dub con, angst, graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral (m.rec & f.rec), bonding, blindfolding, biting, loss of virginity, virginal blood worship, overstimulation, use of feathers and chains, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of slaughtering, mentions of religious cults, mentions of christianity, mentions of sacrifices, gore.

synopsis: Attempts to precede his arrival made you ornery as he slipped like thin air from your fingers, even when you’d have him so close. You had almost ultimately fixated in your mind that you’d never know your secret admirer. Meanwhile— mysterious murders, disappearances and uproars about the return of the most fabled coven of vampires: ❛The Rouge❜ leads you to expect your imminent death. However, you do not expect the turn of events and the appearance of the one you’d been seeking for.

admin: @unfurlingtwinklingstar

It was one of those macabre mornings when you’d find an oh-so-familiar garland at your doorstep.

The very same kind of flowers that you’d prefer for decorating your little reading nook with, would lay wrapped in a delicate paper foil. The dew on its petals would appear golden as it would kiss the ray of dawn streaming through the porch of your fern-scented cottage.

A feverish shiver would run through your spine at the sight of a caramel-colored envelope right underneath the lavender foil in anticipation of what this letter would say about you.

It would be hard to persist the laden need to find the giver first when the lovely pink petals would almost frown at your resistance.

You cherished calla lilies. There wasn’t a day when they’d not sit on your vase with their trimmed stems soaked in lukewarm water, smiling as they bloom.

Every Friday, this was to be expected. Yet, you weren’t fully comfortable with the handwritten cursive that’d make your fingers slack at its message.

The meander cursive masked the obscene descriptions of your curves, the filth in the mind of the writer was impeccably reflected in the flow of the dark ink.

The first time you had gotten such a letter, you had a recurred session reading it with obscure scrutiny, only to find the title ‘Third youngest of the Rouge’ in the sender name column.

The letters had chanted your name like a prayer, it’d beckon for you to have a taste of the kind of pleasure that you were trying to celibate yourself from, the kind that’d be a sin to indulge in.

It made your body thrice warmer, your body blazed into a pretty rouge like the robes you wore during service hours in the church.

Eroticism and romance were taboo subjects to conventuals and canonesses at the convent of Volterra. Being a novice in service to the almighty, you were taught to be a holy carmelite, a slender benedictine, devoted especially to scholarship and liturgical worship.

But the intimate descriptions highlighted the black traces of sin in the depths of your soul as if the devil awaited his chance to stand erect and applaud in sheer satisfaction at the sight of your crumbling control.

Sucking in shaky breaths, you grab hold of the stirrer and kindle the crackling flames dancing in your fireplace.

Without a second thought, you toss the expensive pieces of poetry into the topaz flames and watch as the fire comes to life and blazes the parchment to ashes.

You were considered too much of a vestal to submit to this admirer of yours.

The choirs at the convent church were different compared to other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voices were almost like the angels’, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, they sang for the almighty only.

This was halloween at the monestery. Whilst the town wore spooky robes and went around sharing treats in exchange of spared tricks, you sang along with your fellow sisters, honouring the almighty and paying tribute to saint Marcus.

You sang along, keeping a low voice and swaying to the gentlest harmony in devotion. The stanzas are clutched to your heart and you cherish this moment when you feel the string between you and your god. You cannot fathom how satiated you feel. Your mind strays to your past, when you were under foster care.

You were a doting, little child despite how the other girls prayed for a future where they can possess expensive goods and glittery jewelry. You only kept away from their notions of want and sinful desires for pleasure even as you became an adult.

You chose to bake cookies, share blankets, study the Bible, smile and croon at the praises the church would give you, rather than read obscene novels and join the young woman of your age in subjects that were atrocious in the eyes of the holy.

Sister Siena walked you to your dwelling at the convent’s residence while she chattered about her moss garden and herbs that could treat flu. You listened quietly, letting out little nonchalant hums. Gardening wasn’t a subject of your interest and you were much more fatigued to feign enthusiasm.

“The halloween rituals might probably need an addition of prune juice, don’t you think?” she asks while you unlock the latch and walk into your home.

You let out a small smile and usher her in whilst nodding to everything in your surroundings. A little envelope peeks out from the gap between the floor and the hallway door, making your chest tighten at the realisation.

A letter from your mystery admirer was unforeseen and definitely unwelcome, especially in the presence of a fellow nun in your dwelling.

The attention of sister Siena is brought back at the sight of a cream-coloured envelope with a rather unfamiliar stamp on its surface.

Her olive eyes narrow to two slits and makes perspiration bead out and down your clavicle in fear. In the blink of an eye, the envelope’s seal is torn and the letter is perused by the chestnut haired female at once.

Her response however, gives you a cursory shock. Her lips turn into a smile and she stares up at you, eyes in awe as if she had witnessed the grand work of Caravaggio.

“You have an admirer”, she infers and you scour her face for signs of offense only, to find nil. She seems rather, glad.

“I— I usually burn them there” you point to your fireplace and her shoulders buckle in a brief fit of giggles, as if you had shared an anecdote.

“Who would pray to have a vestal nun? It is like counting the stars.” she mumbles into her mug of tea, eyes flickering from your face to the letter, absent-mindedly.

You shrug and get seated opposite to her, straining your eyes on the flickering flames that warms your numb, cold toes. You sigh in bliss at the tranquil frame of your nook and almost the next minute, your eyes flutter shut and you sink into the lulled sounds of the crackling fire.

Unbeknownst to you, the young nun seated at your opposite has her nerves ossified at the glimpse of the sender’s title. Comprehension of ‘third youngest of the rouge’ sends her mind into frenzy. Dismay sinks into her heart and makes it thud and toll like church bells at the realisation of the plight that you have been pulled into and she shudders.

Without so as to even a noise, the letter is slid into her crimson tunic and the envelope is thrown into the fire.

The coolness of the midnight is deceptive; the sun has barely risen and this altitude is always cooler. Siena’s destination is low down and deep into the interior, well away from the onshore winds. When she reaches, the heat of that region makes her compare the temperature to her kitchen’s, on a baking day— like a friendly warmth instead of the inferno it always is.

Her footsteps are ushered as the heels of her moccasins rap against the laid out cream carpet in dull thuds, her breathing is in a frenzy too for, hundreds of thoughts swarm in her head at once.

Siena is cold to the bone despite striding across the blazing heat of the deep, dim chambers of the three elderly canonesses, at the convent. The canonesses— head nuns are rather reserved and hostile about their roles in the society.

Before the 17th century, such chambers were often considered clandestine— precisely, before the battle of Tuscany. The battle held a significant place in history, for how saint Marcus and his veterans fought and impeded entire Tuscany off of sanguinarians— a term used to describe vampires.

The rise and fall of the most fabled coven of vampires was inscribed in the olden scriptures and was forgotten to tell tales about wizards and curses as of the present. Siena had studied about them at school.

The mere image of the counts brings shivers down the woman’s spine and she shudders as she holds onto the letter and walks, toward the canonesses’ chambers.

It is dark when she arrives; gnarled trees hung low over the baronial church, creaking ominously in the howling winds. The heavy oak doors broke open, echoing around the empty church.

The moonlight shone through the heavily cracked stained-glass windows, casting an eerie glow onto the dusty alter. Thick cobwebs hung on every surface and her footsteps sounded deafening on the cold stone floor.

Two elder ladies sit perched on their carpeted thrones with their veils over their heads and backs turned toward Siena. They hold hands in a circle and mutter chants to themselves.

Siena’s eyes capture the silent movements of their fingers and the incessant nods of their heads. She gently walks— almost stalks, until one of the elder canonesses perk at her arrival and seek her to sit with them.

The chamber walls radiate off its warmth and the conversation is lulled as Siena breathes out her concerns with utter respect, her expression remains composed despite her rapid breathing.

The canonesses nod with eyes widened at the size of fire lanterns, their fingers tremble slightly in comprehension of the magnitude of issue that the young nun had brought to them.

In the next hour, right on the death of halloween, nuns and monks are summoned from the monastery and a ceremony is held right in their place to seek peace once again.

The seven Rouge sanguinarians, the fabled coven of vampires have returned to Volterra.

The four canonesses sit in a circle and one of them draws a circled figure at their center. The symbol seems ominous to Siena, it seems almost like a satanic pentagram. A silver crucifix is fixed right at the junction of the chalked lines and the series of chants begin.

For almost a quarter of a hour, Siena sits— rooted and in the careful look-out for queer changes in the surroundings. The next minute, one of the canonesses jerk as if she had felt a foreign presence and collapses on the canoness next to her.

The chamber queerly begins getting chilled as the chants get more louder in unison. Whooshing noises of the wind soon fills the chamber and an eerie figure settles through the open window, making Siena freeze, petrified.

At the end of the hallway stands a slender yet, robust, almost surreal, young-looking man sheathed in a heavy, scarlet cloak. His eyes are shut, as if he is in deep thought, and once they open, they make Siena jump out of her seat in fear.

Skin almost translucent, a bloodless hue, reminiscent of cave dwelling creatures that never saw the light of day, as pale as the living dead, as pale as a corpse. His bleached skin was as white as a sheet of paper next to the sleeve of the black woolen sweater, his orbs seemed bloodshot, yet, they held a life of their own like the burning rouge of a ruby.

“Third youngest of the Rouge”, Siena hears a canoness announce, the latter’s voice seems both startled and in disbelief.

“Ann. Fancy seeing you there, you seem older than in our last meeting, don’t you agree?”, the young count seethes and takes steps toward the eldest of all the canonesses.

Siena stares at the duo, perplexed. The two seem to know each other like old acquaintances yet, their eyes hold an unexpressed rage that she does not fathom.

“I am afraid greetings will have to wait, Park. You and your brothers must be well aware of the treaty you have broken.” Ann almost hisses, stepping in front of the rest as if she is unafraid to emphasize her point.

The ethereal man quirks an eyebrow at Ann’s actions in disapproval yet, curls one side of his mouth in a smirk, eyes reflecting a certain devilish glint.

“Ah. You accursed humans never seem to learn, do you? Fifty years ago, we made a pact. For our coven to never be disturbed by you humans, in exchange for us to move our grounds”, he accentuates the words and sets his eyes on Siena, making the latter freeze.

“Twenty years ago, there was a lovely young woman with round orbs and curves more enrapturing than the meanders of Tuscany’s hills”,

At the mention, something turns in the face of Ann as it hardens like wilted musk. Park further continues walking and retracing his steps, eyes glued shut and jaws clenched in raw rage.

“She was bonded to one of the youngest counts and the war—” he pauses in his steps with his sculpted back turned toward the canonesses, as he stares blankly ahead, grieved.

“The war, it killed her. She lost her life, she died in vain. She was destroyed by her own race. The pact was shattered broken at that moment, that moment when the light left her bewitching eyes.” he croaks a bit, shoulders slacking as if the memory was his venom.

“She was innocent yet, she was killed. By your people.”

There’s a shadow casted in the slender man’s eyes and it was quite clear. The rage for revenge that was cloaked in it.

Even whilst his back was turned, his head seemed calculative of the canonesses’ immediate response. Ofcourse, humans never seemed to learn.

Ann’s eyes reflect death and almost the next second, she strides forward with the silver crucifix in her hand and tosses it at the empty black space where Park stood, moments before.

The next second, a heavy, red, mushy liquid is splattered onto Siena’s face as she screams and crawls toward the exit, horrified for her life.

The canonesses’ throats had been cut and they lay like butchered animals in a waste of blood. One corpse had slipped from the low throne to the right of the door and lay staring up at her, the mouth open, the head almost cleft from the body. She saw again the severed vessels, sticking like corrugated pipes through the clotted blood. The second was propped, ungainly as a rag doll, against the far wall. Her head had drooped forward and over her chest a great mat of blood had spread like a bib.

Tuscany’s most esteemed dignitaries of the church society lay like ghoulish mannequins, the esophagus and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. The smell that vapoured from their bodies could only come from slaughtered animals.

Thick, warm blood crawled into Siena’s throat and clawed at her air sacs like muck. Spewing with every glance at the mass slaughter, she struggled to wipe away the splutters of blood stuck to her skin and crawled on her limbs not any different from a five-sensed mutt, heaving and croaking for mercy.

Her pleadings for mercy fell upon deaf ears. When the bone of her ankle was seized to pull her toward the ghoulish young count, Siena thought the night would take away the last of her breath.

Her jaws were clasped in the count’s fingers and her eyes were a hair away from the orbs of death. The young count was sheathed by the moonlight in a silvery halo.

Without the traces of blood on his mouth, skin resembling the late winter and rage on his sculpted visage as red as his name, anyone could mistake the monster to be an angel.

His temper was on a hair-trigger and his eyes were lethal.

“You will run to the town’s mayor. If you want your soul to be spared, you will run there and shout to those mucks that the Rouge have returned”, the count spewed venom with each word.

“You will throw this parchment on their faces and demand that they comply to every syllable that’s scribed in the sheet!” he speaks, spelling out thunder claps and boulders at the poor nun.

“If not, Tuscany will have every breathing and crawling creature slaughtered like its canonesses”. He warns and whooshes away like smoke— ungraspable by bare hands.

Even in the wintry morning when town folks discussed the daily’s headlines with an uneasy settlement in their guts, you pursued boiling tea and folding your blankets neatly, unmindful of their great fear.

The afternoon too was eerily quiet and folks everywhere preferred to speak in a whisper and contain themselves in their abode. It seemed rather dubious and as heedless as you were, you never perceived that your innocence would lead to your downfall.

The sun sank lower in the sky, draining away the golden hue of the warm and gave path to a velvety dark night. The same moment when the crickets came out to chirp, dusky colours subdued in the fading light as shrieks and collective roars were heard at the heart of the town.

You, along with some of your fellow nuns peaked at the commotion and threaded through the crowd that swarmed in front of the Mayor’s office. On the board was a derogatory notice. Although, the crumples and rusty stains gave away the fact that the notice wasn’t pinned by the authorities. Its calligraphy looked eerily familiar to you.

“Tunic as red as our coven’s name, skin shining like beacon, tresses sheeny and burnished, eyes like the forest floor and gentle flowers with mirth, feminine curves softer and untouched like a laden bush of peony,”

The fear is a weight on the Mayor’s ribs and there exists a dull ache in his eyes, an unwillingness for his mouth to lift past neutral, to charge against but, words are lost in the hollow of his throat. Fear stills his lips as he pursues it to read out the rest.

“—The young vestal nun with a name that echoes across valleys of Tuscany, the one who dwells in the only fern-coated cottage near the gates of the lush forest.

Bring her to the place where human ritual pyres blaze, those who dare do otherwise, prepare to meet death as painful as a swine’s.

Against you rise, prepare to pay a deathly price.” he ends and mutters hurriedly in the commissioner’s ear and you notice the skeleton of his wrinkled fingers tremble at the slightest.

There’s a hushed eruption of conversations that bubbles ever so slowly amongst the townfolk at the astonishing notice and you freeze, petrified when eyes stray toward you, almost accusingly. You realise, with horror, they’ve recognised the vestal nun in the description.

You breathe heavily and your gut begins to twist into an uneasy coil when the commissioner’s fingers point directly at you.

Your desire to evaporate heedily rushes into your mind and something akin to being a criminal overwhelms you. When you step away to sprint far, you are seized by heavy men as they haul you off the earth by your limbs.

The thousand pair of ears at the town’s center fall deaf to your scattered pleadings— screams. Heartlessly, they drag you to the threads of your last few breaths and you helplessly submit, falling prey to your fatigue from the endless stream of tears that races down your rosy cheeks.

Your wails are unheard as the elder women of your town shield you from the public view, sit you in a warm creek and wash you in the clear stream, no different from a creature to be sacrificed for their religious rituals.

You croak out the last of your pleadings before the sun sets, and the women only watch you with nothing more than pity in their eyes.

Their hands are hurried as they strip you and dress you in the most rouge of all cloaks in the town, steam your hair dry, stain your lips with sliced beet, trace the lines where your lashes lie with charcoal.

Other than the sizzling charcoal that dries your tresses and your dull sobs, the creek is silent even as the herd of women stand together.

When you are sat and tied to the sacrifice stone, you shriek with more violence than gales. The ties that bound your limbs to the stone would not come loose at the desolate way you cried.

You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until your throat closed on itself and you felt the heaviness on your eyelids. Fatigue beckoned you and you obeyed, submitting to it unconsciously.

The stillness of the air seemed to suck even the sound of the chain’s clanks when you moved your limbs into the nothingness of the cave. Even the trees seemed not to rustle as if they were tense with nerves for what was to come.

You jostled awake when the trees rustled and a strong wind blew from nowhere, chains rattling at your limbs’ sudden motion.

Trees stood naked as they had before, but their twigs curled in a distorted way, as if the tree itself screamed in pain.

The sky was a mass of grey cloud, again so ordinary for autumn, but instead of letting small shafts of light through they emitted an ethereal glow.

The wind was just as bitter as before, coming straight from the north, but the scent was something else, metallic almost, with a tinge of acrid burning.

The fire that kept you warm flicker, casting an ominous glow throughout the tunnel, causing shivers to ripple across your body. You drag your legs across the surface of the sacrifice stone, gathering yourself into a ball.

Wind streams through the tunnel, waking the bats in the cave, twirling them in the air, only to drop them off into the void. All signs of life vanish from the tunnels that were once so full of warmth and the fire becomes extinguished.

You peer as you stare at the mangled stone beneath you.

A heinous laugh echoes throughout the tunnel, rebounding off the crumpled walls, and you crawl closer to the wall in sorrow. Like the cave, your soul is too abandoned and then all fades to black.

You shut your eyes and sit, quivering in fright as footsteps echoed menacingly. There was a hoarse breathing heard dully and you began to hear your own whimpers.

At an unexpected chime of the hour, through the empty night, a gentle voice calls out your name.

Your arms tighten around your body and the curtain of your hair falls around your face, shielding your view of the silhouette growing in front of you.

“Tuscany’s most loveliest lily”, the voice shallows into a soothing whisper and a woody fragrance tickles your nostrils. Your mind ticks at the familiar syllables uttered out and something blossoms in you besides fear, your features contour into slight puzzlement.

“I climb so high, lost in the sensation, I succumb to the scent of the stream that runs in your veins”, you listen more closely.

“I cry out in pleasure, my body on fire, I cling to your scent, hunger feeding my desire”, by then, you are sure of the stanza. It was what licked your insides, it was what beckoned you to sin. The lines were your admirer’s.

Then, it pauses.

The voice is gone, so is the scent. You push your tresses off your eyes and cautiously look in the dead of the night that seemed alive a few moments prior.

Something creeks and rustles at the faintest— right behind your neck, causing its hair to stand. There’s something behind you. Or rather, someone.

Your eyes shut at the feeling of a cold breath tickling the locks of your hair. When a thick strand is pulled and a deep inhale is heard, you whip to find only emptiness.

There’s a few moments of listening to only your anxious breath and thuds of your breathing heart before a fine piece of silk is wrapped around your eyes.

You let out a startled scream at the sudden hindrance of your sight and the feeling of a glacial pair of brawny arms sheathing around your waist. A set of black dots disperse in your vision and your mind is lulled by a hushed, smooth voice into your ear.

“Found you, my little fawn”.

You regain consciousness in a dimly lit room, on a lush, oak-coloured duvet. With the movement of one leg the tell-tale clink of wine bottles rouses you and one blink of the eye tells you that your head is just as bad. You squint, dry mouth sticky with thick saliva and your legs are immediately pulled to your chest at the queer recognition of the place.

You feel as though you have lived a very long time in this colossal manor.

The Manor grew out of the manicured lawn like an infant castle. It’s nascent stone walls were a pale grey and were barren of the moss or ivy that clung to the walls of the older homes in the village. Its large oak door was double wide and was sheltered under a wide porch supported by stone pillars. The entry way was grandiose, sweeping into a wide circle in front of the dwelling with an ornate fountain in the center.

As seconds advance, your mind harks back to unfamiliar images in the same space— a young woman in an elegant frock chortling as she gets chased by a burly yet, slender man who looked youthful as well.

His laboriously chiseled face, cheekbones that had near pierced his flesh had led to sunken eyes, puddles of avarice set about them.

Dark hair covering his head, long and fragrant with rose thorns.His chin, one such extremity which sought to put his cheekbones to shame, it succeeded in its purchase to pierce its own flesh. A small scab could be seen about it’s exit, to which his hand tended to itch.

A thick, velvety cape traces his sturdy steps— chasing after the woman and you gasp when her face comes into your sight.

It is you.

Only, more alluring in the gown that hugs your— her curves. Her laugh is unceasing and sultry mostly, seductive.

Your eyes dilate when you see her unhitch the ties holding her robe to her curves and like a vixen, she steps out of it, lying back on the duvet, beckoning for the ethereal man to her.

He seemed ravenous, his irises iridescent as they turn from raven to crimson at the sight of the slick between her legs.

She seemed brazen, like a cur in heat, in need of flesh when she crawled upon the alluring man, rolling her hips into the air provocatively, she caused the balls of the man to get filled, none similar to your dainty facet.

She takes his girth into her lips, making the count seethe in pleasure, her tongue wrapping around its head, she makes him bellow like a buzzard when she takes him deep into her throat and teases his balls.

He looks feasted, satiated beyond syllables when she licks every inch of his hard wood and takes him to a state of druken stupor.

Your breathing comes out in strained huffs as you watch him take her— you as he presses his lips against her skin and utters words that make her keen and bawl in pleasure.

You watch as their naked flesh twist gracefully into one and something else begins to unravel in your memories.

Where there should be blank space is blank memories, like a soft beige wall bereft of photographs. It brushes through the subconscious, recalling memories that bring out the deepest spark of nostalgia of the soul.

You recall every single one of it, your eyes shut intuitively and you sink into a rather familiar abyss of lost memories. In it, you hold hands with the same man who appeared moments prior. Only now, you know his name.

The one who loved you past all the years that went like streams to the sea, in all your lives as a mortal.

“Soft. Your hands. Soft and warm - on my face, on my chest, in my dreams, in the umbrella of dawn, under the first streams of morning light. Your hands in the pitch black of night, muscles and tendons dancing between each other in a lover’s dance. Fingertips like matches grazing my skin with flame, our scars being the measure of our love. I bare my scars, because I remember the time when your flame danced on me forever, before your hands turned to ice.”

All of your admirer’s words make sense to you. The lost passion, the lost memories, the lost life of yours as the light left your eyes when humans attacked the manor you had peacefully lived in.

There was a deep cut in the skin of your neck from the shattered pieces of glass and a heavy cry escapes the throat of the man at the dreadful sight— you, on the Jimin’s thighs, in his arms as he cried for you to not leave him.

You had smiled and reached your hand to his cheeks, engulfed his lips in one last passionate kiss before your eyes shut on its own, soul departing your frail body.

You see him, your past lover begging for you to return, you see his brothers lifting you into your grave.

Shudders rack your body and your cheeks are wet when you open your eyes to the present, to find the shadowy, familiar presence sitting right across you, his arms prop his chin upright and his eyes drink you in.

Jimin steps from the shadows, stealing your breath and the heat from your skin. Suddenly your defences are just paper, paper that is being soaked by the rapidly falling briny drops.

Before you can draw in the air your body needs, you have melted into his form. You feel his firm torso and the heart that beats within. His hands fold around your back, drawing you in closer.

You feel your body shake, crying for the missed time the two of you will never make again, crying to release the woe of long years in separation.

He caresses your cheeks and wipes the tears with a calloused finger, even this roughness brings more relief than your heart can hold. He is eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he cannot quite fathom you are not part of an almost forgotten dream.

When he kisses you, it is sweet, gentle, and it tastes of your tears. You want to speak but all you can do is croak,

“Jimin”.

His mouth paints a soft smile and he kissed you once before folding you in his arms again.

“My beautiful peony, my little fawn, my love, my heart, my entire world. It was never your fault”, he mutters and you keen closer to him, pulling his mouth to yours once again. You close your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue twisting with yours and your knees lose strength, sending you spiralling into his arms.

“Oh, how I missed having you close to me, seeing yet, not being able to ravish is a curse” he whispers and you feel the heat pooling in your core when he noses at your jugular and inhales your scent.

“The scent of your blood remains heavenly through the ages” he sings, arms digging further into the curve of your waist.

“And this musky arousal—”

You gasp when you feel the tips of his nimble fingers brush the crotch of your undergarment, relishing in the heat of your wetness.

“This time, I’ll have you breathing for eternity, little fawn. I’ll turn you into what I am”. He declares with a stern voice, consuming the breaths that escape your lungs.

When you stare into his crimson irises, you pray for his touch, beg for what he promises. “Claim me, my lord. I’ll spend an eternity in your arms. Touch me, make me yours”.

Surely, it would be yes. The count was a notorious rake and libertine. He was called a thorough and absolute rouge, true to his name. How could he possibly turn down the chance to debauch the most delicious little fawn tempting him to revel in her taste?

With one kiss, Jimin swooped you off the floor and completely into his arms, transporting back to the cave you were sacrificed in.

He had planned for the entire town to hear your wails of pleasure. When you felt and heard the rattling of chains around your limbs, you shrieked, startled.

“No need to be afraid, my lovely fawn. I only wish to show these mongrels who you belong to”. Jimin expounds, making your core clench in need.

“Touch me, my lord” you scrounged like a fox, coaxing the ravished count with the tantalizing motions of your hips.

“Disrobe for me, little fawn. Take that sheer robe off, I want your naked flesh”, Jimin snarls and his mouth waters when your dainty fingers scramble to untie your gown. You sputter, your cheeks flush a vivid red at his grimy words.

Fear. Nerves. And illicit, forbidden, wrong physical desire. You felt it all at once.

Jimin bent to you and pressed his lips to your neck. The oddest jolt of fire leapt from there. It rushed through your veins like flames licking at the sky.

His hair tickled the bones of your cheek as he stroked and hollowed his mouth along your throat and reached the rim of your ear. He brushed back your hair. Surprisingly, his breath was cool. Almost icy. You had heard women speak of men blowing their breath by their ears—something that hadn’t sounded at all enticing—but the maids had described warm breath. Jimin’s breath was cold.

Still, the brush of it did feel surprisingly … good.

He nibbled your ear, making shivers tumble down your spine. He stroked the exposed skin at your collarbones. Goodness, how could it feel so hot—like a candle’s flame flickering close to your skin?

He tugged your cowering hands away to expose the swell of your breasts. His body tightened with arousal at the sight of your full, generous curves, erection bucking against his stomach.

Pushing you on the boulder, he ravaged your mouth, letting his hands venture down to the cleft of your arse. You bucked at the foreign feeling, gasping at the feeling of his tongue suckling the soft flesh of your lips into his mouth. His tongue curls around yours and he suckles it too, making you melt into a puddle in his full hold.

His mouth traces your throat and when it ghosts over the curve of your breasts, you shudder and your skin breaks into goosebumps.

He suckled. God, you were delicious. And you were moving beneath him. You arched to press your breast to his mouth.

Your scent reached his nose. And, he was lost. Lost in want. He rolled over you, coaxed your legs apart with his, and settled between, caressing your sweet cunny all the while. You gasped at the feeling of his thumb rolling your pearl and whimpered when his middle finger found your entrance, dipping to revel in your slick insides.

Oh goodness, he had flicked that most sensitive place—the little bump that lay between your nether lips, and you almost rolled her eyes back into your head at the pleasure.

Your hips arched up. He stroked you a little harder, as if he had known the rocking of your hips was a wordless signal that meant: I am begging you for more.

Then he slid his finger inside you. Between your nether lips, parting them gently. Goodness, he was inside you. You were doing the most intimate thing possible. With the man who remained an enigmatic admirer in your mind until the touch of his fingers tainted your soul, with the man who held your heart for eternity.

“Open your eyes.”

The first things you saw were thick, velvet-soft black lashes and gorgeous crimson eyes. Eyes that glittered at you in the firelight. “I want your eyes on me” he ordered huskily.

Then his finger slid deep inside, and you gasped at the sudden sensation—an intense quiver that rushed through you. You heard a shocking wet, sucking sound as his finger thrust in and out. It was the sound of your arousal.

“Let your moans out, little fawn. I wish to hear your sweet voice” he coaxed.

Biting your lower lip, you whimpered. You didn’t want to speak. The pleasure his wizardry brought was fervent, it felt foreign yet, acutely compelling and delicious. It made you drool, you needed him, flesh, bone, heart, soul.

His hand moved and he stopped stroking the little nub that vibrated with such intense feeling. You gasped in frustration.

He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his erection—you could feel the brush of his fingers against your stomach as he took hold of himself. Then, with his hand tight around it, he stroked the head of his erection against your nether lips. They had stuck together, resisting him, but he gently eased them apart.

Your arms were splayed on the mangled boulder beneath you and your eyes appeared to have gotten a taste of heaven, hands clenched in tight fists, toes curled and digging into Jimin’s hips at his ease into you.

Deeper he went, and his manhood stroked a place inside you that made explosions of light in front of your eyes. Then a twinge of pain rushed through you and you gasped in shock.

His fingers traced the curve of your cheek. “Shh, my fawn” he whispered. “Easy. It will hurt when I go past your little maidenhead. But after that it will be very, very good.”

“Jimin—”

He thrust. You squealed. You clenched. You tightened. You wanted to back away. But you couldn’t vanish into the boulder. Nor could you push him off. There was a searing pain that burned the walls of your insides yet, the delicious stretch of his girth brushed the softest tissue that made your mouth open wide, soundlessly and expose your luscious throat for his mouth to marr.

Jimin’s lips suckled every inch the clammy flesh of your shoulders and breasts— until lilac bruises respired in its wake. The perked peaks of your breasts were soft and toothsome in his mouth. And the tiny heels of your palms digging into his chest felt euphoric, he wished for it to caress his veiny member instead.

His nose nudged into your sternum, imbibed the scent of rushing blood to your breasts. His eyes shut as he sniffed deeply, his fangs grew in length and a gravelly groan rumbled from his chest at the redolent aroma of your blood.

“You feel warm and soft, my delicious little fawn. I could forever inhale this toothsome stream running through your veins”.

Without stalling, Jimin enveloped the teat of your breast into his mouth and laved, before piercing his honed fangs into the soft flesh, guzzling at the divine, rouge liquid that leaked onto his pearly teeth and sharp tongue, making you hiss at the feeling.

The feeling was gut-wrenching at the onset, it made you scream into Jimin’s shoulders.

He pressed against you, seating himself all the way inside, and he didn’t move. He stayed motionless, and he rained kisses on your forehead, cheeks, lips. It was hard to feel pain with such glorious kisses stealing your breath. And little by little, the stinging sensation ebbed.

A few moments of incessant suckling and your strained huffs at the strokes of his tongue on your tormented peak unfolded a queer pleasure, obscure to be produced by human males.

Soon, each suckle and lave from Jimin’s mouth pulled you to the white, hazed edge of pleasure and you cried out in ecstasy. Your cheeks were riddled hot, body spasmodic, in graceful waves as you began to roll your hips.

You whispered, “More”, Then you saw his sculpted visage.

He looked starved, ravenous. He looked raw, ravaged, tormented. His eyes were wild. His mouth was a slash, bracketed by harsh lines. He looked as though his control could snap in a heartbeat.

“My lord?” you called for him.

“You are tight, sweet, and perfect, my fawn. So no, I am no longer all right.”

You let your arms slip from his neck, but your legs were still wrapped around him, and his groin, hot and hard, was pressed tight into you. Then came the gratifying wave of pleasure as Jimin rolled his hips into yours, his girth slipping in and out of you, wholly, fulfillingly.

Gods, he was huge. The thick, hot, pulsing hard muscle of his legs throbbed against your thigh. His big manhood twitched inside you— feeling as thick as your arm. He groaned, kissing you fiercely as he moved his hips and nudged his swollen head further inside, almost into your cervix. You cried out, feeling it pulsing into your drooling slit.

With a moan into his lips, you strained your thighs and allowed him to pound in and out of you, the thick, slick shaft of his cock sliding wetly out from between your lips as you groaned throatily.

“Have a screaming orgasm, little fawn.”

He circled his hips as he said it, stroking his long shaft within you. He planted one sweet, sensual kiss after another on your lips, and kept your gaze locked with his.

You watched a smile touch Jimin’s full, handsome mouth. Then groans deepened the lines framing his lips. His eyes glowed as if they were on fire, and his deep, throaty moans … You drink all of them.

You were weak with pleasure, yet driven to rock with him. You clung to him, arching your hips, panting. Your nipples had hardened, and each thrust brushed them against his chest. Lips tingling from kisses, breasts throbbing from swift brushes, your quim pulsed … and fire raged in you, hotter than fire and you screamed as you came, body spasmodic.

He held you as his lips slurped at the slop of blood from the punctured marks on the peaks of your breasts.

It is when he pulls out of your body, he turns. This time, his eyes travel below your navel and licks at your core. There’s a thin stream of his release that flows from within you and there is a whit of warmth that seeps along with it, making his stomach clench with carnal hunger.

Carnal lechery for your blood and the musk of your release, it blows like a breeze over him.

Your fragrance consisted of a scent that represented freshly cut timber, like the damp forest after a rainy day; you smelt heavenly, like fresh-scented pine and honey, he wanted to indulge in the depths of the hint of cinnamon-like musk it produced.

It is the blood that reflected your lost virginity, your lost innocence. You are no more vestal, he has made you sin.

In the depths of night, your eyes were dew, scattering the nascent rays, ever illuminating the dark in his soul and he lusted vigorously for the taste of you, to let him be consumed by everything you offer to give him.

And so, he chains your limbs again, and blinds your vision for the nonce, for your senses to get heightened, for your slick to stream like nectar from ambrosia.

You gasp quietly at the impairment of your vision.

His fingers pluck a pair of pampas grass fluttering in the wind and when you feel it caress the tiny puncture holes at your sensitive nipples, you whimper, your slick caressing Jimin’s chest.

His lips find purchase at your inner thighs, fangs shallowly sinking into the soft flesh. The feeling makes your toes curl and you croak his name out in pure bliss.

“How delicious, your scent is divine, my fawn” he growls and pulls your core to his nose with vigour while you attempt to slither away, shyly.

“Trying to escape my grasp is useless, little fawn” he warns, making you cry out at the feeling of his arctic breaths blowing over your sensitive core.

“I’ll catch you faster than the wind could sheath around you” he gutturally breathes and spreads you beneath him, holding your soft thighs in his metal hold.

He moved lower, his breath teasing over your thigh. And then, you felt it, and the moan of pure ecstasy tore from your lips.

Jimin’s hot, wet tongue delved between your lips, dragging slowly and wetly up every bit of you until it flicked across your aching clit. You moaned in pleasure, crying out as his powerful hands pushed your legs wide apart and his wicked tongue pushed deep between them.

With a moan, your eyes flew open to see his face hovering above your delicate and exposed core. His eyes glinted wickedly at you, and you watched, panting in pleasure as he slowly licked his lips clean.

“Like nectar,” he growled. “Lie back, little fawn. Lie back and let me taste you.”

He moved back in, and suddenly, you moaned loudly. The feeling was like nothing else you had ever felt — this perfect, electric feeling of his icy tongue teased over your lips and clit. His wide, strong tongue dragged up and down your pussy, making your whole body arch and tremble for him. You balled your fists and cried out into the flickering firelight of the cave.

He slid his tongue deep inside, spreading your lips with his fingers, dragging your sticky wetness up from your opening to slide electrically across your aching clit. You arched my back and cried out as his tongue made contact there. It curled at your bud, bringing whimpering mewling sounds to your lips before sliding down through your folds again. You stiffened, and then moaned as you felt that hot, wet tongue slide wickedly against the opening of your arse, making you gasp as it slid over the sensitive ring there.

You couldn’t believe the sensations flooding your body at the touch of this rough, powerful, demanding, gorgeous man — from the rouge who was gentle to a creature with hound-like lust for your dripping arousal and blood.

His tongue pushed against your opening, pushing in to curl sensually inside of you. His thumb moved to your clit, his growl rumbling through me as he teased your little bud and tongue-fucked your slippery core, making you clench and arch your back off the stone under you.

You screamed as the orgasm exploded through you, hips bucking against Jimin’s perfect mouth. Your core clenched at the invading tongue, spasming around its thick wetness while the orgasm ripped through me. The famished count hungrily growled and pushed his tongue deep inside, tasting all of your virginal blood as the aftershocks exploded through you.

Slowly, he pulled away, his lips trailing over the little seam of your inner thigh as your whole world spun under you.

The feathery leaves of the pampas grass caressed the seams following his mouth and you felt his arms lifting you onto his lap, straddling him. He gently entered you again, mouth tracing the prominent vein at your jugular, tongue teasing it.

You shook and rippled around his thick wood, chains rattling loudly as you bite at every inch of his skin that your mouth could reach.

“I am going to turn you, my sweet fawn. Tonight is perfect, the moon is hidden and the branches sing for us. Let it all out, scream my name” they are incessant breaths against your jugular and you clench around him, hearing him cry out his devotion for you.

“I am ready, my lord. Turn me, I— I belong to you!” you cry out as the tip of his girth brushes your most sensitive spot.

Then the whooshing wind caresses your bare bodies, you feel the chains loosen and fall to the ground while Jimin embraces your shaking body entirely, increasing the pace of his inhuman thrusts.

His mouth takes yours and swallows your pleasured pants, yours tongue mulls his own when he feels your fingers thread through his soft locks and dig into his scalp. His hold on your hips are deathly and when he feels you clench and pant harder, he bites into the inside of his cheeks, closing his eyes as his blood trickles from his mouth, into yours.

Your throat closes at the repulsive, metallic taste and you gag, making Jimin tighten his hold on you. He twists your tongues together and urges you on, making you swallow down the thick drops of his blood.

When you feel his member caressing that sensitive spot of your insides once again, you gulp faster and Jimin smiles blissfully into your mouth as his tongue traces the sharp lines of your protruding canines, they course rapidly into pointy knives and he relishes in the sharpness of your fangs, tongue drinking your breaths in.

There’s an ethereal glow of light sheathing around the two of you. For a nonce, the bright, golden-silvery stratum panelling over you in particular makes the deep, dark abyss of the night seem like day. The round curves of your orbs sparkle an aurish dust and makes you look more beguiling than any other supernatural power to ever exist.

Jimin feels the illuminance and shuts his eyes in ecstasy for the warm streams of your blood chills into familiar ice, the same temperature as his. Your thrusts are gentled and you cry out in a new found lust for Jimin’s blood.

He can feel the urgency in your gulps as you grow more hungry for blood, his blood. He shudders when you sink onto him again, tilting his head to pierce your fangs into his throat.

He groans at the pleasurable feeling of your mouth gulping his blood hungrily and he forces you to pause, for his eyes to drink in the birth of your vampiric form.

The moment you open your eyes and stare into his, his breath catches.

Your orbs are a beautiful, fierce topaz-crimson and there is a bleached tone added to the luscious sheen of your skin, when you lick the drops of his blood from your lips, exposing the knives of your fangs, he feels the carnal lechery for you boil in his heart and stir at his manhood.

You are fully turned, looking like the goddess of death herself, veiled in an ethereal halo in the deep, dark, inked night.

His eyes drink your appearance ravenously and he concludes. Carnal lechery for you, that’s what possessed him all those years ago, that’s what drives him to sink his fangs into your flesh and drink your sweet blood over and over.

You are turned and you are eternally bonded to him, there’ll be no mongrel mortal in this universe to take you away from him.

Autumn days wane toward the inevitable colder weather ahead, each nightfall coming sooner that the one before.

Seven days were gone ever since you were welcomed and brought to the Rouge’s dwelling, the rocky fort miles away from your grim, little mossy town.

Topaz leaves dangled from the shadowy skeletons of trees, each one like as ominous sword of Damocles. The river was almost ice, showing reflections of the heavy, ashy sky so thick. The chill breeze rattling at the closed windows of the fort seemed to cry autumn, the roads were moist with stealthy dew as the season deepens their graceful boughs will be the prettiest of charcoal sketches, drawing themselves tall, reflecting the light of a wintry sun.

You are huddled in the silky red sheets of Jimin’s large duvety mattress, the lines of your naked legs traced by the sheets. You lie fatigued after a thorough session of lovemaking with your mate while he wordlessly caresses your hair, eyeing your curves, breathing the essence of your hair as he licks the remains of your dried blood from your breasts.

The sudden slam of the door came like a punctuation. There were panicked calls all around in the veranda and one of the maids peek their head through the door to the master chamber, her chest rising and falling in urgency.

“Forgive me for barging in, master and mistress”, she breathlessly bows, making you both rise, startled. You scatter to cover your body with the sheets while Jimin groans and ties his night robes to shield his body.

“Master, we seem to have an intruder. The other masters summoned you to the court immediately”, she keeps her eyes low and Jimin barks at her.

“How would we have an intruder? This fort is well protected!” he grunts and turns to you, placing a soft kiss on your lips as you eye the maid scurrying away, bowed.

“I’ll be right back, my love. You might as well get dressed".

You smile and pull on your silky night robes to your body, mindlessly staring at the creaking trees in the wind while Jimin marches to the veranda, his booming commands slowly ebbing away.

For a few ticks of chime, you hear nothing but the rustling leaves, sparrows chirping at a distance and the echoes of voices downstairs. When the door to the chamber you lie in opens on the spur of the serene moment, you fall back and onto your elbows, on the cottony patchwork of the carpeted floor.

A loud gasp knocks your lungs at the sight of the familiar fern-eyed, thick woman looming over you, offering her hand.

Siena. She is puffing out harsh breaths and her legs tremble, hasten. She seems too afraid as her eyes cavort to the door in trepidation and you realise, she is the intruder.

“Y/N! Y/N. You should listen to me, you should run away, the one you are with is a monster!” she hastily whispers, gripping at your arm.

You yawp at her gnawing grip and attempt to pull your arm to yourself and grit your teeth. At the sight of your crimson eyes, Siena’s hold gets loosened.

“H—he turned you, didn’t he?” she utters in shock, something in her eyes clutches at her back again and she pleads you again. You sigh and move to the chamber’s doors, pulling the latch to lock and you turn to face her.

“I am sorry sister Siena, but I must ask you to leave. History does not tell the truth. The Rouge were innocent, it was the people who broke the treaty”.

You eye her pitifully. She had come all the way for vain.

“Jimin is by nature of laws, my soulmate. I cannot live apart from him, I am no longer one of the mortals”. You proclaim, clasping your fingers together.

“Now, please leave—”

“I am afraid you do not know everything” mumbles Siena quietly, her olive eyes swimming in a stream of exigency, her limbs still tremble.

“Who has Park claimed to have murdered you in the past, Y/N?”

The will to not let her affect your resolution faintly faltered at the sight of her tenacity, she shakes similar to a leaf jostled by storm gales yet, her eyes remain adamant.

“Tell me, please”, she begs to the extremity of crumbling, her orbs trembling just as much as her limbs do.

You release the air from your lungs and mutter softly— “Humans. The ancestors of our town. I saw it, the evocation of my past self, I was killed by the town folks”.

Siena shook her head, her face contouring into a brew of disdain as well as pity, you were almost uncertain if it was aimed towards you.

The whooshing gales and Siena’s voice seem the same when she mutters out what earth had not devised itself ready to hear.

“No, my dear. It was not the town folks who had killed you, it was the very man you share this bed with, the most conniving, astute count amongst his brothers— Park Jimin of the Rouge!”

And in that light the carpet of leaves became crooked, and all aurish colours vanished, the wind tumbling around the empty space. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and your face morphed into one of disdain, you were abhorred yet, shattered to the ground like the dry twigs stepped on by passing carts.

You knew nuns took an oath to preserve and authentic despite the unembellished life they lead because you were one too. Siena was not lying, every single word of hers proves to be true only by the contours of concern etched on her face.

“H-how? I—” you flounder like a fish taken out of the pond.

Siena sighs dismally. “When I went to the elder canonesses on halloween night, the eldest of them apprised a hidden tale of a young town girl and her lover— Hyun woo whose throats were silt by the third youngest of the Rouge”,

“Only sister Ann knew the story behind it”. You listened carefully, feeling prostrated mercilessly.

“Park Jimin had found his consort and by the scent of her blood, he knew she was destined to be bonded to him by nature’s law. But, she was irrevocably in love with another mortal to whom she had been having love affairs with, even as she was taken against her will to the Rouge fort”,

“An infuriated Park had butchered the young woman’s lover in front of her whilst the woman pleaded and cried for the man’s life. As days passed, Jimin’s consort became coldly vacant in grief",

You were turned into stone at her words.

“She had ultimately repudiated to consummate their bond. The same night when Jimin had killed her to erase the memories of her lover, the town folks declared a war to avenge Hyun woo and rescue the young woman. Park Jimin had promulgated to his brothers that the woman was killed by humans, he must have recast your past self’s memories, Y/N! He is not the gentle lover you loyally surmise him to be!”

One time when you were blind in a tree, waiting motionless for wind to wander by, you dozed off and fell ten feet to the ground, landing on your back. It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from your lungs, and you lay there struggling to inhale, to exhale, to do anything.

That was how you felt at the moment, your ribs felt crushed into a mere refuse, fear and disgust of your past killer’s touch burned everywhere, the faded puncture marks on the peaks of your breasts, thighs, neck, shoulders felt as if touched by the flicks of flame, you felt abhorred.

Even the loud rap of knocks and thuds on the door to the chambers were heard, you were frozen into ice. Eyes teary, vision blurred, you fell to the ground, crestfallen.

Siena shakes you harder in panic at the sight of the door’s latch rattling violently, the sundry of voices with Jimin’s voice rack unpleasant shudders through her spine as she attempts to resuscitate you to the present.

A single squawk like a squall causes the doors to shatter as if hurled to the ground by a tempest. Park Jimin stands sited at the other side. There is not a sliver of a plinth to hold his rage in place, he looks irked to the brim of extremes.

“Seize her!” he barks and by the tick of a second, Siena is hefted into the air by a couple guards, their grasps cause her to bawl in pain.

“Y/N! My dear, what did she do to you?“ Jimin’s voice is mellowy as he gathers you into his arms, perusing your form thoroughly.

Like the mountain river under sunlight, like snow melting under the beaming sunlight, like the gentle song of the topaz leaves swaying in the autumn breeze, his voice was pleasant as beautiful as his perfectly sculpted face.

You shake away weakly from his grasp and his face withers, twinging a deep cut into your heart.

“You cold-blooded murderer, let her free”. You mutter, abhorred and stare at him, as empty as the ocean at night.

Jimin peruses Siena and you wordlessly, taken aback by your sudden disgust. When you see his head lift and lips curl to one side, you see the once loving mate of yours turn into the callous, blood-thirsty hound of a creature that slaughtered so many lives for its own illiberal gain.

“I see my little fawn has discovered the truth”, he heinously chuckles, making you swallow down in utter disgust.

“It was worth the effort, was it not?” he perches himself on his lush seater loftily, a wicked grin stretches his lips at Siena’s struggles.

“Now that I have the maiden of my dreams to myself”, he wickedly whispers, his sharp eyes travel down your body as he slips his lower lip into his mouth.

“I can debauch her to my heart’s content” his eyes are demanding as they meet yours, his slender fingers tipping against the mahogany handle of his seater.

“What causes you to think I would submit to you?” you spew the words like venom as the haughty count feigns hurt, crumbling to the ground.

In a blink of an eye, Jimin whooshes at an inhuman pace across the chamber to you, gripping your jaws tight from the behind as he has his own clenched. Your wrists are pressed together at your back and he presses his chest to your back.

You attempt to wriggle away at the bulge pressing into the cleft of your arse and you screech at his hold.

“What can be done by a little fawn like you, against me? There is a reason why I did not wait even for an hour to turn you that night”. He lilts mockingly, lips brushing the lobe of your ear.

“Oh, little fawn. I had become the master of your body, soul and mind duly after turning you. Every single thought that runs in this little head, I can hear it”. He declares, arms slithering around your body in a vice-like grip.

“After decades of longing, I finally had you. Would I not have prepared for the same mistake to never occur again?” he presses his nose to your jugular, breathing your scent. It makes him roll his eyes in pleasure as the heavenly scent tickles his lungs.

Your fighting limbs fall limp as his fangs pierces the skin of your jugular, taking little gulps of your sweet blood.

Siena screams as she realises the actions performed on you by the count. She seethes and cusses, fighting against the guards’ hold on her.

“Forget everything that makes me bad in your eyes, little fawn”, Jimin whispers pleasantly, making you fall into a lull of sleep with a soft hum.

“Only I am your love, only I am your lord, no other mongrel of a mortal owns you, forget it all, my one and only little fawn”, he sings soothingly, lifting you in his arms more delicate than a priceless treasure, cooing in adoration at the sight of your angelic face in peace and parted lips, memories flitting you away from him washed away profoundly.

In the course of a mo, Siena’s head is snapped and the poor nun’s body is embedded into the fertile earth heedlessly.

A famished count with an endless carnal lechery presses a soft kiss to your lips and envelopes you in a lover’s embrace, waiting for your eyes to open and say his name sweetly, oblivious to events that have unfolded a very few chimes ago.

Carnal lechery, it was what possessed him to possess you.

#bts yandere #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #bts yandere au #yandere jimin x reader #yandere jimin smuts #jimin smuts #bts smut #bts jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x reader

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Text

deception

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

— Or in which, Hawks manipulates how you view your boyfriend, Shouto. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, manipulation, 18+, smut, first time sex, body worship, oral (receiving and giving), and praise

word count: 10,223

a/n: this was a commission! it was very fun to write this once I got around to it... life has just been... well you guys know because youre living it too. but I hope you enjoy this!!!!

edit: OMG AND SUPER BIG THANK YOU TO @marilla-eldriana FOR HELPING ME

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Being a student at Yuuei was a privilege.

Every year only two hundred and twenty students were admitted from a drawing pool reaching into the thousands. From there, only forty were admitted into the Hero Department, and finally, only three per year were granted the title of the Big Three.

“Watch out!”

You watched as Hawks crashed through the window to your left, and you looked down at him with a wide grin, what an idiot.

“I thought speed was better than power,” you mock watching as the villain the two of you had been hunting for some time now easily flicked the number two hero to the side.

“And that’s why I got you, isn’t it?” he chirped before rolling onto his feet.

You shrug, the smile on your face telling a different story while you both stared down the villain you had corned. There was no way you were going to let him go, no, this hunt was going to end now.

“I’ll assist you,” Hawks whispered, and your stomach fluttered in anticipation.

There weren’t many times in your internship where Hawks would say that. Working with one of the fastest and swiftest Pro Heroes ever meant that you were always fighting for a spot on the table. The days of Hawks swooping over the city faster than the eye could follow were still there; in fact, most of his sidekicks were probably cleaning up the mess the two of you had left five cities behind you.

But you were different than them, you guessed.

You were only fifteen years old when Hawks scouted you for an internship, and while you had heard the rumors of what working with the — at the time — number three hero was like, it wasn’t like that. Speed was something you had always lacked. Sure, you were faster than any past Olympian, and any ordinary citizen, but in comparison to your hero peers, you were slow. After a humiliating loss of your first Sports Festival on account of being too slow, it was an almost sweet irony that the fastest Hero took an interest in you.

But it was good. Three years you had worked with him, three years of learning how to keep up with the fastest hero by breaking your body down on multiple occasions. At first, it had been just trying to keep up with his sidekicks who cleaned up after his mess, who were extremely quick as it is. Then after figuring out how to use your power quirk to make yourself faster, something that had been helped with a fight or flight response on your own end, you were able to become faster than most Pros.

But that wasn’t anything in comparison to Hawks still, but when a sixteen-year-old girl saves your life because you overshot your ability to fight, it’s easy to incorporate said sixteen-year-old girl into your regular routine.

The initial introduction of you into his regular routine was less than ideal, he had simply stated to follow after him and would be gone. But with time, he took to holding onto you while he flew, which meant that you needed to include glasses and ear protectors into your costume.

With the glass crushing under the weight of your shoes, you crotched the slightest bit, looking over at Hawks with a smirk. Three years of teamwork had lead to moments like these, no need to communicate, and with a raise of an eyebrow, he nodded.

The feeling of his feathers skimming your back shot the anxiety coursing through you, and you ran out of the shattered window, Hawks hot on your heel and the villain coming straight at you.

In the long run, it didn’t mean much that you were physically stronger than Hawks could ever be, but it sure made you smile knowing that you were.

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“And that’s another point for me!” you grin watching as the police took the villain into their car, Hawks stood next to you with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What will I do? I have eighty-seven points, and that makes what? Twelve?”

“It’s not my fault you go for slow as shit villains,” you accuse, turning your nose up at him.

“Oh yeah? Should we hunt for the fa—”

“Hawks!”

The two of you froze in your quarrel, turning to a man who was towering over the two of you.

Endeavor.

“Endeavor, hi!” Hawks erupted into a wide grin, his eyes brightening while he looked up at the man he admired.

Trying to hide your snicker, you tilted your head, and your eyes widened seeing three boys behind him.

“Hey guys!” you wave at your classmates behind Endeavor.

“Y/h/n!” Deku greeted you with a large grin and a bow.

You smiled, even more, seeing the way that Bakugou and Shouto both addressed you in their own ways.

“How are you guys doing?”

The rather one-sided conversation between you and Deku made you laugh on many instances. It seemed that being the only work-study students had meant that they were always getting their asses beat. Not that you didn’t already know this, it was just humorous hearing it coming from Deku’s mouth.

“Is Tokoyami-kun not with you guys?” Deku asked, looking around at last for the raven headed student who did, in fact, work with Hawks.

“Not today! A neighboring agency requested his help, so it’s just Hawks and me today!” you nodded your head at the three boys who were quite famous within Japan.

“Are you okay? We heard about the villain; that’s why we’re here,” Shouto spoke, his eyes curious, and his head tilts.

Your face warms when you smile, nodding gratefully.

“I am,” you clasp your hands together, “Hawks got sent through a building, though.”

“Some fucking number two hero,” Bakugou scoffed, and you snickered not wanting to agree with your stupidly observant boss behind you.

“You guys look less than put together; what happened to you?” you asked, noticing the scruffs and dirt on all of their faces.

“Bakugou and Midoriya got into a fight mid-air, and I happened to be in the fire zone,” Shouto rolled his eyes. At the same time, your friends exploded into offensive and defensive arguments, respectively. “We fell into the middle of some villain fight weirdly enough.”

While you grinned at Shouto, your eyes locked completely, you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Alright, y/h/n, Endeavor says there’s a villain seven blocks ahead, and I think we can beat them there!” Hawks laughs, and you can’t say your goodbyes because his hands lift you into the air. “See you guys there!”

And you were off.

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Your limbs ached slightly when you reentered campus grounds. With your case in your right hand, there was nothing to do except trudge ahead, hoping to get to your dorm quickly.

“You’re back.”

You blinked and saw Shouto approaching you. He was in a casual outfit, most likely having been here for some time, seeing that it was eight at night.

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, pushing down your skirt in hopes to look presentable even with the bandage on your chin.

“I was waiting for you,” Shouto smiles gently, his hand brushing your cheek, observing the injury on your face. “You okay?”

“It was just a scratch, nothing too crazy,” you promise, and you smile under his warm touch.

There isn’t much surprise when his lips come and press against yours, and you hum contently feeling his warm skin moving gently against yours.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Shouto whispered, finally pulling away from you. You groaned, having not been satisfied with the simple liplock, but opened your eyes to see that he was studying your face again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease, your nose scrunching with your words.

“I have so many already.”

“I know,” you smile, dragging him away, “I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long for you to get a proper dinner. With you being out for your only day off, you were pleased to see that there was a plate of food waiting for you that was left behind by your classmates. So you sat in the dining area of the dorm, eating the food while talking with Shouto.

You told him about the rest of your day, of how the two of you were close to cracking this case of serial cases of disappearing Pro Heroes who would reemerge days later without memory. The two of you had been working on it for a week now and had multiple promising leads. With the end of your career at UA coming in only five days, you were excited about the possibility of cracking this case after your graduation to help give you a good running start as a sidekick on the Hero Charts.

But before you knew it, it was already past eleven, and with classes tomorrow, it was time for you to go your separate ways.

“You don’t want me to spend the night?” he asks while you walk unconvincingly to the door of your floor, your hands grasping his.

“You know that I do, but I can’t let that happen yet,” you pout, watching as Shouto nods in understanding. “Soon, I swear.”

“I just can’t believe my girlfriend has no self-control that I can’t even sleep in her bed without her wanting to fuck me,” Shouto sighs and while you splutter, telling him how he’s wrong, he places a goodnight kiss onto your forehead and leaves with a kind smile and a small wave.

Stupid son of a bitch.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had morals and ethics that you had told to Shouto well before things turned serious for the two of you. Sex was something you were always nervous about, not in the sense that it was a bad thing — god forbid you’d ever slut-shame anyone — but more that you wanted it to be special.

It had to be with the right person at the right time.

Shouto was someone you knew was the right person, but as your hormonal feelings for Shouto grew and you realized one late night that you were grinding against his bucking hips, your face hot, his lips and teeth pulling at the sensitive flesh of your neck did you realize that this was so not okay. You had pushed Shouto onto the ground, his eyes dazed and confused while you began to say that you were so not ready for this step of the relationship. But it wasn’t like it was the only time you’ve blue balled your boyfriend… no, you had done it time and time again.

So much so that Shouto practically refused to be in a room alone with you now because it always ended with one of you pinned to the bed and Shouto being launched onto the floor.

With a sigh, you watched Shouto turn around, walking backward with a small wave and a grin when you blew him a kiss and flipped him off. He called you the moment he was back in his room, and although you weren’t letting him stay in your bed with you, you did fall asleep on the line with him, his steady breathing lulling your heavy eyes to sleep.

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Hawks watched while you trudged into his office, your face pulled into a pout, a bandage sitting on your cheek.

“Morning,” you call out, exhaustion evident on your face.

“What’s up with you?” he smirks, watching you walk to his desk and slumping onto a chair, your eyes closing.

“So tired,” you murmur, your head nestling into your arms, ready to fall asleep. “I didn’t sleep much last night?”

“Why’s that?”

“Stupid boyfriend,” you mumbled.

It had been three days since you had last been in the office, with graduation preparations, Hawks couldn’t call you out as often. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about, no. Hawks froze, replaying your words in his head like a broken record. He didn’t know you had a—

“Boyfriend?”

Those words passing his lips only made you groan louder, your head nodding, “Yeah… I’m dating Endeavor's son Shouto… for about… a year now!”

Hawks' brain went into overdrive.

A year of dating, and this was the first he’s ever heard of it! He had been your mentor, your boss, for three years and never before had you even mentioned a boyfriend before. Hawks lips pressed together, a looming pit of jealousy forming in his stomach. His feathers fluttered, his arms crossing.

Hawks was used to knowing everything, to being able to get what he wanted most, and he was planning on asking you out when you graduated. He had sworn his feelings had been returned; after all, who couldn’t find themselves falling for the young and hot number two hero?

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I can have him steal you a pair of Endeavors underwear if you want, I know you’d like that!”

Hawks looks down at your teasing face, his nose scrunching in mock disgust, “Please, I don’t need a baby stealing Endeavors underwear for me. I can get them myself!”

Your smile is warm, and Hawks watches while you pull out your phone, quickly texting something.

“What? Telling your boyfriend you made it safe and sound?”

“Actually… yeah…” you mumble while finishing up your text.

Now Hawks wasn’t evil, he knew that; he also wasn’t used to losing, because that wasn’t him. But there was something odd about the way his stomach twisted and his feathers raised at that confirmation, and the words poured from his mouth without him ever having the chance to stop them.

“Does he make you text him?”

You nod, a grateful smile on your face when you drop your phone. “Isn’t it sweet? I think it’s… why are you making that face?”

“What face?” Hawks fluttered his eyes, mock innocence for the first time not sitting correctly on his face.

“That one, Hawks!” you laughed, throwing your case at him. “The one that looks like when I stole your chicken leftovers.”

Hawks snorted, and he shook his head, deciding to walk out of his office to begin his daily routine; after all, these morning conversations were apart of said routine.

“I don’t know... He knows you’re strong and that you’re here with me, and yet he doesn’t trust that you’ll get here? Or is it in a controlling sense?”

“W-What?”

Hawks turned around and looked at you, your eyebrows scrunched, eyes looking down at your phone.

But when your eyes rose to meet his, Hawks simply smiled, his head shaking.

“Never mind!”

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It didn’t stop there. No Hawks had officially lost his brains with how he was approaching this. Everything out of his mouth concerning your boyfriend was bitter, foul, and implementing lies in your mind. A desperate attempt to get you to feel like Shouto wasn’t good enough that he was manipulating you and Hawks watched while you carefully danced to his tune, your frown deepening with every sweet lie that rolled off his lips.

“I’m hanging out with him and his siblings tonight!” you announced after the day at work was done.

Your smile was bright once more, a day on the field improving your mood. Hawks nodded his head, remembering how the Todoroki siblings were good people, and how you also had siblings.

“His siblings too?”

“Yup!” you nod. “I’ve gotten to know his siblings really well! They’re really great! We go over so often, and I like to believe that I’m close with his family now!”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hawks smiles, his head tilting to the side. Faux innocence. “How about your family? Is Todoroki close with your family?”

Your jaw opens, and your head drops, your head guilty shaking no. “It’s a bit harder for that to happen, and he met them once and well… it didn’t go too well.”

Hawks eyes widen, his hand rubbing the back of his head with a heavy sigh, “Ah, I see… don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Um… no, not really?”

“Well, as an outsider, and your friend, Imma have to tell you that it’s weird. It sounds like he doesn't like your family? He’s not trying to control you, is he? Not trying to isolate you from them, right?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, and Hawks watches with over bubbling joy at the doubt and realization growing on your face. He was hitting the right nerves.

“I-It’s okay!” you chirp, your feet dragging against the floor while you move to leave. “It's probably not that!”

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“Another movie outing with his friends?”

“We’re watching the newest All Might documentary, it’s not like it's a banger!”

“Todoroki just never seems to care to include your friends or do things with your friends. It seems like he’s trying to keep you confide in his friend group.”

“My friends haven’t… they haven’t said anything?”

“Who would? You’re dating the most powerful son of the number one hero, no one would dare to speak up against him, especially if he told them to stay away from you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Shouto…”

“I mean, Todoroki is jealous of the way that your family loves you, and that’s why you’re always with his family. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t keep you from your friends too?”

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to believe me, of course! I’m sure he’s a great kid, after all, he did choose you to be his girlfriend.”

You scoff, shoving Hawks with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Nah, you’re amazing, y/n, and you should know it.”

“Mkay, pigeon, egg off.”

“Oof, I’m so scared!”

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Your world spun, and you crashed onto your back with a low groan, jolts of nervous energy coursing through your nerves while you remained pinned to the floor. Hawks stared at you from above, his jacket long since discarded, and his hands grasping your wrists while he straddled you.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve been able to pin you since you were sixteen!” Hawks laughed, but he immediately took notice in the way you were grimacing.

You didn’t do that often, but you weren’t done yet. Shifting your weight up and over, quickly, you managed to pin Hawks to the ground, his head bouncing against the matted floor with a groan of dismay on his skin. Your nose was brushing against his, his warm breath expelling gently against your face. No! You pulled away suddenly, your heart in your throat at the nearly intimate contact. But it was too much movement on your own end because your body screamed at you.

Your breathing was shallow, a feeble attempt to calm the pulsating pain that traveled through your nerves.

“What is it?”

“I was sparring Shouto last night,” you mutter, feeling Hawks’ fingers immediately searching your skin for injuries. “You know how he sucks at close range combat, but he must’ve been practicing with Bakugou and Deku because he’s never been able to land hits like that…”

With your jacket pooling from your shoulder, Hawks fingers traced over the bruises that colored your skin. Ugly purple, green, and yellow all over. You hissed when he applied pressure to one, and you flinched, getting off of him.

“Are you sure this was sparring and him not beating you?!”

“I would know the difference between sparring and an ass beating,” you groaned, your eyebrow scrunching while he took you in more. “Besides, you should see how he is. I still won!”

You were silent Hawks words ringing heavy in your ears.

Did Shouto… was this a sign that he wasn’t who you thought he was?

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“Shouto?” you whispered, your knuckles rapping at the door, hopeful he was in his room. “Are you in?”

You heard the sound of footsteps against the floor and watched the door open. There Shouto stood, wearing black sweatpants and a white tank he leaned against the door. Your eyes caught sight of the black bruises against his skin courteous of your sparring last night.

“Y/n?” he expresses with a pleasant surprise. Shouto’s hand reaches for yours, but you flinch away, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your head nodding, “Sorry, long day, and um, I’m still sore from yesterday…”

“Yesterday? Ohh~ what happened yesterday?” You watched with the smallest amount of amusement when Sero revealed himself, his arm thrown around Shouto’s shoulder with a stack of manga in his hands.

“We spared, why?” Shouto asked with that perfect density that Sero stammered, unable to recover from Shouto’s lack of an appropriate response.

“Boring, anyways, I’ll bring these back soon, I promise!”

You and Shouto bid Sero goodnight, and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Shouto looked back down at you.

“Care to come in?”

“I would.”

You sat on Shouto tatami, your knees bent with your arms wrapped around them while he rummaged around.

“Here, I made some healing ointment for the bruises,” Shouto said, placing the white container on your knees while he sat in front of you. “I know that even though you won, my kicks probably hurt like a bitch.”

“The biggest bitch,” you agreed, watching while he unscrewed the ointment and began to delicately place the salve on your skin. It immediately cooled down the warm skin, and you studied his face while he did so. His touch was gentle, almost too soft for someone as battle-ready as himself. But he was on a mission to make you feel better, and for every bruise he covered, he apologized.

Soon enough, every bruise was covered, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until Shouto’s eyes widened when he noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, the days worth of anxiety that Hawks had been instilling into you, finally pouring from your lips.

“What?!”

“It’s just… with the texting you where I am, and who I’m with even when you know before I leave! A-And how about my family? I always go with your family, but the one time you met mine, it was disastrous! And then you never w-want to hang out with my friends! And you were so hard on me during sparring last night… Did you want to hurt me?! Why are you trying to isolate me?! Are you trying to control me?! You’re a powerful person Shouto a-and with your dad being the most powerful person I just… are you forcing people away from me?!” Tears poured from your eyes, your sleeves rubbing away the tears on your face, the ointment gathering on the fabric,

Shouto instantly reached out to you, but you shifted away from him, your face burning with embarrassment from your outburst. You wanted Hawks to be wrong, Shouto was good. He was an idiot, but he was a good boyfriend. Please prove him wrong, you thought. Please.

“Is that how you feel?” Shouto asked, his voice quiet but steady. His hand was pressed against the duvet, centimeters from your side. Not touching you, but giving you the ability to reach him when you were ready. “I just… I’ve never done this before, you know that. Y/l/n y/n, you are someone that I am way too lucky to have in my life. I asked what are boyfriend appropriate things to do from my classmates, and I guess I might have been overdoing it myself. I ask for a text because I want to make sure you get places okay. I know you’re powerful and can take on anyone, but it’s because you’re powerful; it makes you a target to villains. I honestly thought you liked my siblings a lot, so I wanted to keep you with them because if they’re your friends, you deserve to see them. I am sorry about your family, but they are assholes, and you know that.

“But if you want to go visit and hang out with them more — with or without me — I would never stop you! I know I can’t keep blaming myself for being new to all of this a year into our relationship, but I didn’t know it was appropriate to invite your friends to hang out with us when we were with my friends. I thought they wouldn’t want to hang out with us guys. I also know you enjoy your alone time, and you tend to spend alone time with your friends, and I never want to intrude. I am so sorry for making you feel this way.”

“No,” you sniffle, your tears turning from one of sadness to those of guilt. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against yours ever so gently. “It’s my fault you felt like I was isolating you, controlling you. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove myself that I can change, I’d like that.”

There wasn’t stopping the way that you threw yourself into his arms, your tears soaking his neck, and he pressed gentle after gentle kiss against your temple until you were no longer crying.

For the first time in your relationship, you spent the night, and against what you had previously thought, the two of you did nothing more than embrace in a wet lip-lock.

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Graduation finally came around, and to say the least, you were excited.

Finally, you were now a Pro Hero — well, really a sidekick, but that didn’t matter! The entire day you spent it on campus, watching the graduation ceremony take place with your classmates at your side. Tears were shed, photos were taken, and the end of your high school career came to a close.

Due to your accomplishment, something that wasn’t at all doubted in the first place, Hawks had thrown Tokoyami and you a large party in celebration. You were, after all, the first students to have gone through his agency for all three years of high school, and he deemed that celebratory worthy.

With such an occasion and countless years ahead of you to be on your top tier game, it was to no surprise that you were letting loose at this party. And yes, by letting loose, you meant being drunk.

Me: shoutoooo baby i loe you oh so much

Shouto: I love you too, make sure you get water to drink and don’t have an empty stomach.

Me: i had dinnerr with you remeber !!!! no empty stomach here!!!!!

Me: im sorry for crying that night that was so dumb of me to being insecure about

Shouto: you should still be eating more if you’re planning on drinking more. And it’s okay, it’s equally my fault as it is yours.

You stared at the text, your vision slightly blurry while you imagined just what you would do with Shouto soon. You bit your lip with a grin, but with a sudden loss of balance, you stumbled back into someone.

“Oops, sorry!” you yelled louder than you expected, turning around to greet whoever you had run into. You saw a familiar face with a bird head standing there with his arms outreached to balance your stumbling form. “Tokoyami-kun! I didn’t know you were still here!!! I would’ve taken a shot with you! Oh my god, I LOVE your jacket! Where did you get it!”

Tokoyami smiled, his head nodding, “I happened to have it lying around, although I can’t remember where I cross paths with it, to begin with. And I couldn’t forsake you by leaving before you were ready. It’ll be pleasant to have you around all the time with Hawks starting in a few days.”

You nodded your head, your hands stretching out in an attempt to respond animatedly, but yelped when you slapped someone instead.

“OH, NO! Did I hurt you?! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, turning to the second person you had hit in a matter of minutes.

It was Hawks.

“It seems she is quite inebriated,” Tokoyami pointed out, and you nodded in agreement.

“I am!”

Hawks chuckled, his head shaking, “Imma take her back to my place then, she’s a disaster in the making if we let her stay here.”

There wasn’t room for debate because you were suddenly in his arms and waving goodbye to Tokoyami, your sense of judgment gone.

“Take me hoooomeeee,” you sang into Hawks's ear when he soared into the night sky, and much to your amusement, Hawks continued your song.

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Shouto sat in the common room, his eyes shifting to check his phone every so often. He knew you were drunk, that had been very clear the moment you called him only twenty times pretending to not be you while slurring your sentences. Nothing was stopping the uneasy feeling in his chest after you had explained yourself and your feelings that one night, he had put together that Hawks liked you. But without definite proof, he didn’t want to claim such things.

And while he had no doubts about your ability to protect and defend yourself, there was no saying if that was true if you weren’t sober. Hell, he’s fought you sleepy once, and there was a significant difference between you being alert and you being exhausted.

Regardless, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard something back from you, and with his classmates currently celebrating the end of the year by playing video games, he was there alongside them.

“I’ve returned,” Tokoyami called from the entrance, and Shouto turned around to see the bird head man walking to approach the gathering of the few remaining classmates in front of the common room's TV. He said his greetings before coming to rest by Shouto’s side. “The party was a bit too loud, but I think you would have enjoyed entertaining it.”

“It’s your guys night,” Shouto shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t need to be there when it was her work friends. How is she doing?”

“Ah, well you see,” Tokoyami nodded his head, his fingers raking through his black hair, “She was quite drunk, so Hawks-san took her back to his place to sober up, most likely spend the night at his place — Todoroki?!”

Shouto had no idea why bitter fire raged in his chest; all he knew is that for the first time ever while he slipped on his shoes and his jacket, he pulled up a contact he didn’t expect he would be using so casually.

“Shouto?!”

“Do you know where Hawks lives, Endeavor?”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Are you feeling better?” Hawks asks you, taking the bottle of water from your hands.

The low sparks of the alcohol that had once been coursing through your body had simmered into slow pulses. You knew you weren’t one hundred percent sober, but you were sober enough to realize that you should have asked Hawks to take you to the dorms instead.

“If you’re asking if I’m no longer sloppy… you’re in luck,” you sigh, a tired grin spreading on your face while you reach for your phone. You frown, seeing that it was dead, but it didn’t matter much; you would get home without it being alive anyways. “Thanks for sobering me up; I think you could have done it back at the party, though.”

Hawks snorted, his head tilting up, his head in thought. “I definitely could have done that, but I didn’t want you taking shots in secret while trying to sober you up.”

“I’m sure you could handle me just fine.”

“The last thing I can remember is that you are physically stronger than me and if you’re drunk… well, I was scared you’d kill me by accident.”

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically, your eyes rolling in your amusement.

Silence overtook you both, and your gaze fell to your hands. You wanted to ask him why he was so insistent on Shouto being toxic, and how he did a 180 the second you told him about how the two of you talked things through.

“Did you want me and Shouto to break up?” you ask quietly, unsure of what you wanted him to answer. “I keep thinking of everything, and that’s the only thing that makes sense to me and all the controlling business…”

Hawks stared at you, his eyes void of all emotion, and yet you felt like he was more open to you than he had even been before. His mouth moved to answer, but there was a knock at his door.

With a heavy sigh, Hawks rose to his feet, “I don’t think I should answer your question.”

So there you sat, his once comfortable couch feeling stiff and hard.

“Y/l/n?” Shouto’s voice rang through the apartment, and your eyes widened. You got up off the couch, your head pounding just slightly while you clamored to the front door. There you saw Shouto staring down at Hawks, how funny it was that your eighteen-year-old boyfriend was taller than a twenty-seven years old Pro Hero.

“Tokoyami told me you were here, and I wouldn’t want to bother a busy hero with taking care of my girlfriend when I can do that myself,” Shouto spoke, his eyes narrowing down onto Hawks as the words my girlfriend let his tongue. But it also sent a shiver down your spine, a coursing ember that had been ignored this night, reigniting it once more.

You were ready, you realized when his blue and grey eyes found yours.

“Thanks for tonight, Hawks,” you wheeze, grabbing your shoes at the door and quickly pulling them on. “I’ll see you in the office in two days!”

With nothing more to say, you grabbed Shouto by his wrist and pulled him away.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The campus was quiet when you arrived, the day of excitement having long since simmered down as the clocks read two in the morning. This would be your last night in your dorm, most of your classmates had chosen to move out today as well, but with no one to help you out while you were at the party, you decided to stay one more night. But with the way your blood was pumping, and how you could feel the jealousy coursing through Shouto’s veins, you wanted to get back to your room as quickly as possible.

Entering the dorm building that was made for your class, you felt Shouto pulling his hand from yours, obviously ready to begin his goodnight routine.

Shouto’s hands grasped your cheeks, fingers hot against your cold skin, and his eyes staring down at you. Millions of emotions coursed through his gaze, but you were focused on the one that spoke of his love for you. His lips pressed down against yours, and you met him in full earnest. His lips pulling against yours, sending fire through your body, sensations that sparked only the familiar excitement you had always denied in the past. You could practically taste his unspoken anger and jealousy on his tongue, and it only made you crave more from him.

You were ready.

“Goodnight,” Shouto whispers against your lips softly, and you laugh. Your hands move up to cup his cheeks, and he pulls you in closer, his hands firmly placed onto your lower back. “I’ll come to your room in the morning to help you pack up.”

“Stay the night,” you say softly, your teeth tugging at your lower lip that was warm from his efforts. “I’m ready.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, his eyebrow lifting slightly, “You want to fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you groan, pinching his cheeks in your embarrassment. But his eyes were bright, and the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the air, and your legs found their place around his waist. “You sap!”

“Prude.”

“Say that one again, I’m finally going to let you smash, whor—”

He shut you up with a kiss.

It’s a slow kiss, one that warmed you up effortlessly, intimate contact pressing between the two of you, but nervous energy chipping through you fully. Your head tilts to the side, the kiss deepening, and your arms pulling him in closer. The two of you pull away slowly, both of your eyes slowly opening to look at each other in a whole new light and a fire under your skin, and something is silent between the two of you. Growing silently, steadily, and coming crashing down all at once.

“I love you…” Shouto murmurs, and that’s all it takes. The movements are desperate now, his steps quick and steady while your mouth clashes against his. Deep, ardent, fulfilling. You can’t help the nervously aggressive make out, tongues pushing against each out, drawing out noises you weren’t quite used to hearing. Low groans and pants you had known, but never in this context, and you were addicted. But Shouto must be thinking the same thing, for when you finally make it to your dorm room’s door, his mouth trails from your mouth. Sloppy and burning hot kisses trail down your cheek, to your jaw, before pressing searingly against your neck, and you mewl at the feel of his warm lips on your neck. Your eyes fluttering closed when his lips left hot and wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your lips met again, and this time you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer. His hands are moving vehemently up and down your back, making you shiver and arch against his traveling fingers. But when his nails glide delicately against an exposed piece of skin on you back, you gasped into his mouth, and the door opened loudly against his need to get to your bed.

A soft giggle leaves your lips when darkness falls against your closed eyes, and your hips shift in your state of need. Only that you weren’t expecting to feel him tremble under your actions or the pleasurable hiss that passed to your lips. your eyes opening to see Shouto’s eyes still closed despite the fact he was walking with you.

“I love you so much,” you whisper into his ear when you pull away from the kiss. Your fingers raking through his hair, your teeth nibbling onto his earlobe, his throaty groan a sign of victory. “Thank you for being wonderful.”

Shouto’s lips are back on yours, greedily seeking more contact, and you don’t hold back as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You feel the mattress of your bed hit your back as you continue to kiss him, sitting up so you could crawl back to let Shouto onto the bed with you. You smile once again as Shouto’s hand rests on the bed frame behind you, while the other one rests on the small of your back, keeping your torsos pressed together.

Your hands are fisted into Shouto’s hair, the small tugs from your hand blazing his own blood, making him press his growing length against your thighs, and his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You moan softly, your head tilting up, and you open up your mouth so that your tongues meet halfway. You start moving to unbutton your graduation outfit, and Shouto hastily pulls away, and your eyes open, his mouth is stained with your the leftovers of your makeup, and he looks concerned.

“Are you sure, y/n?” Shouto asks, his hands stroking your side. His gaze is intense, unmoving, and challenging. “If you’re not ready for this, I won’t be hurt.”

You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your lips as you sit up, making Shouto sit on his haunches while you move to your knees, “I always knew I wanted my first time to be with you, I just wanted the moment to be perfect… and this is perfect to me,” you confess to Shouto, and you watch his eyes soften when you press a soft kiss to his lips.

Pulling away, you stripped of your clothes and dropped it on the floor next to the bed, your breath hitching as Shouto stares at your now only lingerie-clad body, and you blush.

“Shit, you’re beautiful,” Shouto murmurs like a man who had seen something divine for the first time ever.

Your heart roars in your chest, your blood pulsating through your sensitive body while he leans in close. His mouth presses against the swell of your breasts, trailing down to the valley between your mounds. Your body quivers in your overwhelming emotions and sensations. Shouto presses you back onto the mattress, his calloused hands pressing right below your breasts, heating emitting in large waves from both hands, making your mind spin in needy desperation.

“Are you okay?” Shouto murmurs, his lips feeling the gentle movements of your body.

“I am,” you breathe, your eyes shut tightly. You wanted to feel his lips and forget everything else in the world. This was a night of passion, and you’d be damned if your anticipation was going to stop you. “Don’t stop.”

A low chuckle vibrated against his throat, sending gentle waves through you, and you moaned the second his fingers pressed against your breasts. Shouto’s hands worked your breasts tentatively, his eyes studying your flushed face while he kneaded the tender flesh.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned when his finger brushed against your erect and clothed nipple, your hips quivering underneath him.

“Did that feel good?” Shouto hums, and when you confirm his thoughts, coldness hits your chest. Your eyes open to see that he’s discarded your bra and that his lips are millimeters from your breasts. “Do you want me to do more to you?”

The words are curious, but you don’t miss the glint in his eye, but he’s long since knocked the air from your lungs.

“I need to hear your words, princess,” Shouto smiles softly, his warm breath fanning against your erect nipples that cried for attention. “What do you say?”

“P-Please…” you breathe, your body squirming in your denied attention.

“Perfect.”

The feeling of his hot and wet mouth encasing your nipple sent you impossibly over the moon, your body arching off the bed, a lament cry heavy on your mouth while his tongue circled and flicked your nipple. His eyes were on you, you could feel his stare burning into your body, but you couldn’t even see, your eyes closed in your throbbing pleasure.

More, you wanted more.

His finger pinched your free nipple, pulling and rolling the pert skin between his fingers, your wanton cries only fueling him further. Liquid heat coursed through your veins, your pleasurable sensations overwhelming you, and your hips began to hump against his clothed thigh. The friction of his jeans against your barely clothed cunt sending you well beyond the confinements of pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “I love you,” he confesses. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats.

Tender and sweet words fill your ears while he switches where his mouth and hands are. The kneading of your breasts, the manipulation of your nipples, and the way his thigh pressed against your throbbing cunt was sending you over.

Your breathing was unsteady, puffs escaping your lips in an overwhelming and failed attempt to calm yourself down. Shouto was on a mission, however, and his mouth removed from your cool breast with a soft pop, your breasts shining with the coats of saliva, and you shivered.

Shout hummed while he lips pressed the sensitive underside of your breasts, and continued downward, gentle after gentle kiss down your torso, until he made contact with your trembling inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his fingers toying with the band of your panties. You can barely hear him over the roar of your heart, but you know what he says, and you nod. He smiles kindly, placing one final kiss to your thigh before pulling off your panties.

Instinctively, your legs try to close, nerves firing away, but Shouto keeps your legs wide open, and his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you arch off the mattress. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open, the addicting sensation of his hot tongue against your equally hot core burning you.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your clenching wet walls, swirling in circles and pushing further in. His fingers thrust into you at an amble speed, aiding to your pleasure sent descent on the mattress. On one lick, one godly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your thighs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling legs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge by speaking a language you knew nothing of.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips rolling desperately against his mouth. Your hips were stammering against his compelling tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore, your orgasm is right on edge, but you stop him.

“Wait!” you push him off of you, your chest heaving, and the wet arousal pouring from your cunt was slick against his mouth, and confusion evident on his face. “I don’t want to… I want to cum on your cock.”

“Okay,” Shouto pants with amusement, and you watched when his fingers — which were coated in your essence — slipped into his mouth, sucking it clean. The image of that sent electrifying pleasure through you, and your mouth watered at the thought of sucking him off. “What is it?”

“Get up,” you command, your hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and he was quick to stand on your bed, and you were on your knees. Your knees buck under your weight, and you help Shouto remove his pants. You watch in an almost lusting virgin horror when his cock springs out from under his underwear. The hard cock slaps against his lower stomach, and you take in the way that his cock is thick, with bulging veins, and precum leaking from his head.

There was no going back, it seemed.

Steeling yourself over, you wait for his feet to be free, and the moment he’s out of his jeans, your hands immediately encompass his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You marveled at the way the skin was unearthly warm and impossibly hard in your grip. This is what was going to be buried in your cunt in moments time?

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in initial unknowing movement. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “You can’t make fun of me if I’m bad, okay?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t think that’s possible from you, princess.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sense of hope when you notice the tremble in his legs, “We’ll see!”

Licking your lips, your mouth opens, and you let the head of his cock press pass your lips. The dark pink head is hot in your mouth, and your tongue presses against the flat of his head, swirling your tongue around, testing his reaction. By the fluttering of his eyes, and the way that his hands seem to fight whether they should latch onto your hair, you reckon it’s okay.

So, you push on ahead, moving further down his impressive cock. His girth so full you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes on you.

Good god, you pray you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not choking yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto praise your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your neck, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Oh shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he struggles to not overwhelm you. “You’re amazing, of course, you would be good at this,” he gasps as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s distracted while he fucks your throat, but you’re even more desperate to keep up. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter, and your teeth dragging against the sensitive skin.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a loud moan from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

“N-Not yet,” Shouto staggers, and you nod in agreement, watching him sink back to the bed.

“Take it off,” you mutter tugging at the hem of Shouto’s t-shirt, and he moves to take it off.

With your teeth tearing into your lower lip, you watch him remove the dark shirt. Shouto’s body had to be a sin while you stared at the rippling muscles on his body, something you had never truly appreciated before. They moved with his body, the faint scars littering his body for you to kiss and count later.

Tone and lithe. He was beautiful.

Shouto’s lips are back on yours as you kiss deeply, your head tilted to the side as his fingers gently grasp your chin. A shaky moan leaves your mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue, and Shouto moves his body so that you’re now on your back. The tips of your aroused nipples brush up against Shouto’s naked chest, and both of your release a throaty gasp as you pull him closer to you.

Your bodies were overshot with denied pleasure, and the mountaining need for more was finally being addressed.

Your leg hooks lazily around Shouto’s waist, and a sigh leaves your lips as Shouto gently grasps the back of your leg, running steady, consistent strokes from the end of your thigh to your ass.

A fire is building up in your gut as your hands work their way down to the buttons and zipper of his pants. His hands gripping your waist, and you could feel Shouto’s arousal pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing with need. You pulled away from Shouto and giggled as he attempted to follow you with closed eyes as you had to brush your hair out of your face, suddenly feeling hot.

“Y/n…” Shouto just about whined, and you smiled softly at him, finding it endearing and the slightest bit hot when he used that tone.

His hands were on your breasts, slowly stimulating your aroused nipples as he slowly massaged them, making sure to brush your nipple with his thumb every so often, and your head tossed back as you bite down hard on your lower lip. He once again kissed you ever so lovingly, and you felt him pulling away to line his cock with your entrance. You watch with hooded eyes as Shouto presses the head into you, teasing the both of you to extreme lengths, and you wantonly sighed.

You rest on your elbows, a smile on your face as Shouto moves his messy hair out of his eyes. As you stare at his slightly sweaty face covered by strands of different colored hair, your heart just about bursts.

“Make love to me, Shouto,” you say aloud as Shouto stares at you, his cock removing from your entrance and carted against your clit.

“I plan on it,” he smiles, and he grabs your ankle, pulling you closer to him, and you shriek with laughter until his lips engulf your sounds. “Are you ready?” Shouto asks once more, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick.

“Whenever you are,” you whisper into his neck, preparing for the initial pain.

You let out a cry of pleasure and pain as he slowly enters you, and you pant heavily, trying to contain your tears as he manages to push all the way in. Your eyes clench as you bit your lip, your head buried into his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry as he stretches you out. Shouto is panting too at the feeling of your tight walls clenching against him, they’re unable to relax against his cock. It’s not until the head of his cock hits the wall of your cervix does he stop, and even then he’s not entirely in you.

Your breathing is harsh, and you feel like you’re sweating as you look down at the now joined body. The feeling of him entirely in you makes your head spin, the pressure in your lower belly could be from just Shouto within you or from your slowly growing orgasm, you had no idea.

“Are you o-okay?” Shouto stutters very clearly still adjusting to having his cock in you.

“Yeah, just… trying not to die,” you manage to croak out, and eventually, you collapse onto the bed, looking up at Shouto, who seems to be concentrating hard.

“You’re just super t-tight,” Shouto gasps as you wrap a leg around his waist.

It’s a good move, but it’s too quick as a sharp pleasure pained fire shoots through you as you slam your forehead against his shoulder.

“Too fast,” you snap in regret you try to calm your head. This was too much for you, you felt like every nerve was firing all at once on your inner wall, and no orgasm had reached you yet.

“It’s okay… breathe...”

It takes a few moments, but sure enough, you manage to raise your leg to his waist, and both of you moan at the new level of penetration and the way it made your walls clench around him. “Move,” you command, and Shouto falls onto his forearms as he nods.

Shouto moves his hips back, and slowly almost painfully slow, returns them to the original position, and even with the smallest movement, a lewd moan escapes your lips. Shouto continues going in and out, his hips slowly moving while you start to meet him with every thrust.

Whispers of encouragement escape both your lips as his slow thrusting continues.

Shouto picks up your legs so that they’re both wrapped around his waist, and he comes to lean over you. At the new angle, your head is thrown backward, and you let out a string of soft curses. “Shit, that feels so good,” you cry out in encouragement as you bit down on your lip harshly.

Your lips are soon sought after by Shouto’s as sheen layers of sweat cover both your bodies as the consistent moving of both your hips never falters.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit, you feel so good,” Shouto grunts, his hips picking up in speed as he drills into you faster, the sound of your meeting sweaty bodies echoing in your room.

Soon you can hear the sounds of your bed hitting the wall, and a cry escapes your lips as Shouto’s finger grazes your clit.

“Say my name…” Shouto grunts as he presses harder on your clit, and you can feel the coil within you getting tighter, but at the moment, all you can give is wordless cries. “Say it, y/n.”

“S-Shouto!” you scream out as you shake with an overwhelming need to climax, but Shouto’s finger leaves your clit and goes to keep your hands above your head.

“Are you enjoying this?” Shouto teases as he slams into you at full force again, your cunt tightening sinfully against his length, electricity coursing through your veins while you cry his name. “You’re so good, shit.”

“Oh my god, yes, Shouto!” your voice splutters, and his hands leave your wrist to gently pinch your nipple and clit. You go speechless, and your mind spins as he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder, and all you can do is let your jaw drop as the new position lets you see stars.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved entirely within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh at the back of his neck. You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. He wasn’t going too fast, just fast enough to have wet smacks echoing through the room, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. He pulled out entirely so he would have the ability to drill back into your wet cunt. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“I needa cum,” you shriek, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the spastic vice-like clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his mouth connecting with your breast, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, baby,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Cum..”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

“That was…” you mumble, your mind unable to think straight.

“Something?”

You snort, your head nodding.

“Yeah… something…”

“I love you, y/n,” Shouto whispers against your temple, and you sigh, contentness and warmth flooding your aching body.

“I love you, too.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

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Nemesis - Part 5

I wasn’t going to write this the same day as Villainsicle, but I just got so excited with the cliffhanger from last time!

At long last, it’s time for Hero to make their move.

In accordance with the votes from last time, Hero is going to keep up the ruse, and keep pretending to be Director.

CW//Mentions of recreational drugs/marijuana, forced sedation, medical setting, stretchers, IVs, talk of death/execution

When Hero met the team they had been newly assigned to, it had only been Teammate who had smiled.

It had been a few days, now, since that somewhat awkward meeting. The same sentiment had continued, however. While the rest of the team seemed merely to tolerate their new member, Teammate had been warm, welcoming.

So, it only seemed to reason that when Hero finally moved into their new dorm, it was Teammate who was giving them the mini tour.

“It’s not much.” The door creaked as it swung open on its hinges. Hero struggled to see the room within, peering their head over the precarious stack of boxes held in their hands. “But, it’s yours. Um, feel free to put your stuff down.”

Hero nodded gratefully, placing their luggage on the bed as Teammate began to gesture about.

“That’s, uh, well that’s obviously the bed. You sleep on a bed, right? Or do you use some kind of like, dog bed? Sorry, that was stupid.”

Hero snickered.

“No, no, you’re fine. I do sleep on a human bed.”

“That’s good, cause it’s the only kind we’ve got. So, yeah. That’s the bed. That’s the bathroom, through the door. That’s the dresser, feel free to use that for, clothes and stuff.”

“What about that door?”

“Oh.”

Teammate moved over to said door, sliding it open, revealing an empty closet that stood several feet deep.

“We’ve all got these. It’s just a closet.” They smiled. “I don’t know why they’re so big like that, but, hell, you could have someone live in there, I bet. It’s big enough, no one would ever notice.”

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“Friend. I’m so glad you could come visit. I missed seeing you, last week, but I understand how busy you are this time of year. How are you finding everything?”

Hero gritted their teeth, gaze meeting that of Head Doctor. A warm smile replied to with a tense, nerve-wracked countenance.

For the briefest moment, Hero stood in a university building, hostages behind them, and a faceless nemesis before them.

Their tongue flitted over their teeth. They didn’t bother with an accent, there was no way they would have been able to keep it up. Their normal, stupid voice would have to do.

“I missed you, too. I apologize for dropping by so suddenly. Everything is just great, thank you.”

Head Doctor’s brow furrowed, their jaw twisting a moment as they gnawed on the inside of their cheek.

“Friend, your voice sounds different. Are you alright?”

“Yes, do not worry yourself. My allergies are acting up terribly today.”

“Are you certain that it is only allergies? You sound like a kid, again. Here, if you have a moment, perhaps we can go to my office. I’m not too busy, right now.”

“No, no, that won’t be needed.”

“I insist.”

Hero gulped, hoping only that it was not visible. In their ear, a nerve-wracked Hacker’s voice chirped:

“Y- you’re, uh, you’re the director, right? Just, like, order him to shut up!”

Opening their mouth, Hero sputtered, but managed to make out the words:

“If I was worried about my voice, I would tell you.” Their nerves turned rapidly to fury. “I didn’t come here to be berated. I have a- a meeting in an hour. I came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to chat.”

Hacker’s snickering only made Hero’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

“O-Oh. I apologize, Director. We will just have to be friends off the clock, then.”

“Certainly.”

“What is it that I can help you with, then?”

Every piece of Hero’s body insisted for them to flee, to quickly make their excuses, duck out the door, and get out of this stupid suit. They could go home, go to their dorm, go smoke pot with Teammate. Everything would be okay, and they would never have to think about this place, or Villain, or Hacker, or any of it, ever again!

It would be so easy. They were risking everything, throwing it all away, and for no reason.

Leaving would be so simple, and yet...

If they left Villain here, they knew they would never sleep again. For the briefest moment, they were glad that they had never had much in the way of impulse control.

“My charge.” Hero turned, gesturing to where a twitching Villain sat, prostrate upon their hospital bed. “This is them, yes?”

“Villain? Yes.”

“Good. I will be taking them with me, then.”

Head Doctor’s expression of uncertainty turned to one of an agape jaw.

“I don’t- If you would like them to be moved to another facility, we can certainly arrange that, but-”

“That’s not what I said, is it? I have a car, here. I will be taking them with me.”

“Sir, are you absolutely certain? By your own order, they are on a very strict regime of medications. Removing them from the IV- It could be disastrous.”

Hero felt their stomach drop to their feet. Stupid! They hadn’t even thought about that, oh god, oh god. This stupid plan, it was going to kill Villain, wasn’t it? Maybe? Hell, they weren’t a doctor.

Even if it did kill them, though...

Did it really matter? As if they were really alive, right now.

“I am well aware of that!” The tone of their own voice nearly made Hero jump. “I have another facility set up, again, on my orders. They will be taking over care, from now on.”

“We have a transport vehicle for this very situation, Sir.”

“Not for this very situation, no. This is not a normal transfer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s a highly classified matter. There is no driver in our employ that I can trust to manage this transfer, and thus I will handle it myself.”

“Oh.” Head Doctor frowned, as though a black-hued light bulb had turned on above their crown. “Sir if... If you want them disposed of, I agree that this may not be the best facility to arrange that, but we do have facilities that can perform that procedure.”

Hero bit their tongue with enough force to draw blood.

“I will arrange it myself, Head Doctor. I assure you, everything has already been worked out. Are you going to keep standing in my way, or do I need to bring in security?”

Head Doctor shook their head quickly.

“That won’t be necessary. What do you need?”

“Their IVs removed.” Even before Hero finished their phrase, the doctor was already at their patient’s bedside, withdrawing tubes from veins. Villain took in a sharp, shuddering breath. “And a transport stretcher prepared.”

“I assume you would like them to be restrained, too?”

“How long should the medications keep them down for?”

“Another twelve hours, maybe.”

“That will be more than enough. Don’t hassle yourself.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Hero’s legs moved like those of a newborn deer as they backed away towards a wall, leaving room for the orderlies and nurses to scurry about like an ant colony.

Some part of their mind, twisted by adrenaline and anxiety, could not help but remind them of the moment in their childhood when they had adopted a dog. The hurried, overworked vets, scurrying about the animal, checking vitals and microchips.

The dog had had no say in the matter. And, in this matter, Villain had no say, either.

The medical staff seemed not to feel any such sympathy, hands moving swiftly to shift about their paralyzed charge. Cursory checks were made of blood pressure and breathing and the like, though far more attention seemed to be directed upon the removal of various tubes and monitors. Following their detachment from the hospital bed, Villain was shifted by a dozen hands onto a thin blue cushion, laid atop a rolling contraption of wheels.

Hero hoped that the straps that tightened the unconscious person down were only strictly necessary.

Despite their anxiety telling them otherwise, the whole process only lasted a minute two, after which the remaining medical staff filed from the chamber, leaving only Head Doctor in their cyan scrubs.

“Thank you, friend.” Hero ducked their head, moving away from their place in the corner. “They are ready, then?”

“Yes, Sir. Do you need help getting them to your vehicle?”

“That would be great, yes.”

The two positioned themselves on either side of the rolling contraption, with Hero doing their very best to keep their eyes forward rather than down as they began to direct the stretcher through narrow hallways.

It was too light. It should have been heavier, they were certain.

The facility was terribly small, and it was only a minute later that the imitator and the medic stood, alone, in the parking lot, white picket fence far behind them.

Head Doctor glanced a moment at Hero’s beat up SUV, but their nerves kept them from commenting on the matter. Leaving the stretcher a moment, Hero moved to the back of the vehicle, prying open its rear hatch and flattening the seats.

“I assume this is an undercover operation, then?” The way Head Doctor said it implied the statement to be a joke.

“Something like that. How do we, um... I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s not that hard. Especially not when your patient may as well be a feather-- keep that in mind for your dosages, too. They’ve lost weight. Anyways, um, just fold the stretcher like so, and... Can you help lift?”

Hero nodded, doing their best to keep the stretcher flat as they raised it. The contraption hardly fit in the back of their vehicle, but it did fit, even as it was practically wedged between the walls. What was most important was that it sat low enough that the unconscious patient could not be seen through the windows-- at least not from a distance.

There was a sense of terrifying finality as they closed the vehicle’s rear hatch.

They were doing this.

Oh, they were going to get so caught.

What then? This had to be just about the worst offense a hero could commit. Using their powers and their position and the aid of a career criminal to break a villain out of prison. It seemed like a child’s hyperbole-- ‘What should we do if there’s a tornado and a fire and an earthquake? What then?’

Except, this time, there was no ‘what if’ to it.

It was these spiraling thoughts that distracted them just enough that they forget, momentarily, where their feet were landing. A split second of distraction, and they found themself on their back, head spinning from the fall.

Stupid.

They didn’t realize until they were back to their feet that their earpiece had fallen onto the pavement.

“Director? Are you alright?” Head Doctor raised a brow. “Oh, you dropped this.”

They knelt down, plucking the earbud off the ground, lifting it to their face to investigate.

And, in accordance with Hero’s fantastic luck, it was that exact moment in which Hacker decided to speak:

“Hero? Hero? Are you there? You cut out there for a moment. Head Doctor didn’t get you, did they?”

The doctor’s icy gaze lifted to meet that of the copycat.

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It was hard, to get out of the city.

The tendrils of concrete and glass reached out in a looping spiderweb of interstates and one way roads. Moving in a straight line was not an option, for every attempt made to do so would lead to the city herding you back in.

In the end, it must have taken Hero an hour and a half to reach what could be vaguely described as a ‘rural area.’ At the very least, it was outside of the inner city, which was what mattered surtout.

At the very least, the long drive had allowed them a moment to catch their breath.

Unlike some other buildings controlled by Organization, the rehab facility did not have much in the way of a security force-- unless you counted Head Doctor, which Hero did not. Unfortunately, the same thought had not seemed to have the doctor’s train of thought.

It was amazing just how little attention Hero had attracted, screeching out of a rehab facility’s parking lot with a screaming doctor chasing after them up to the property line. They could only assume that no one wanted to get involved in hero business.

Organization, however, would certainly be interested, once they heard about the incident.

Thus, Hero had spent the past hour and a half white-knuckling the steering wheel, steering around endless intersections, until they had found the smallest piece of rural land. A gravel parking lot, from which a flock of starlings had fled at the approach of Hero’s car.

Beneath the vehicle’s suspension, tires settled on broken up rocks.

Hero glanced in the rear view mirror for the thousandth time, but saw only the same thing as always-- endless, empty road.

For the first time in an hour and a half, they let themself breathe. Their car’s engine exhaled as they turned it off and twisted around in their seat.

Villain had not moved.

The few straps on the stretcher did little more than keep them from falling off the cushion. If they had any desire, any ability, to move, they would have had no trouble.

But they were still. Alive, eyelids twitching and chest moving, but still.

Taking care to avoid jostling the stretcher, Hero climbed from the driver’s seat to the back of the vehicle, crouching down at Villain’s side.

As gently as they could manage, Hero held their nemesis’ hand.

“Can you hear me?”

It was a stupid question. Of course Villain couldn’t hear them. Yet, as soon as Hero’s mouth opened, they found themself unable to close it. Unable to still their tongue.

“I don’t... I know it’s been a long time.”

A wave of orange light washed over the two as the sun drifted below the window.

“I know it’s been a long time. And maybe this is stupid. Maybe you hate me. Maybe you want to go back there. Go back to sleep. Maybe that’s all you want. But... I want to help you.

I don’t know anything else. I just know I want to help you.

We weren’t friends, before. I know that. We both know that. And, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t know why I’m doing this. We hated each other. Maybe I still hate you, but...

We can figure that all out later, okay? Right now, I just want to help.”

It was in that position that the nemeses sat, breathing in their first tastes of non-city air in so many years. Outside of the vehicle’s walls, the sun drifted below the horizon, replaced by its lunar sister.

When the last shreds of twilight were at last dead, Hero felt at long last safe to return home. One last time, they squeezed Villain’s hand.

Villain squeezed back. The slightest movement-- perhaps a simple involuntary reaction. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything.

But, to Hero, it meant everything.

On the return trip to the city, the streets were far quieter, and thankfully devoid of any sort of Organization search patrols. In fact, their arrival at the HQ was almost too uneventful. But, they weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Had they not been so stupid, so reckless, they would still have help. They would still have Hacker. Their friend could have guided them through the HQ, guided them on how to avoid the security cameras.

But Hero had been stupid. They had been reckless. Now, they were alone.

At the very least, the parking lot was deserted, and they met no resistance as they unstrapped Villain from their transport. They haphazardly covered the device with a tarp, all the while struggling to keep their limp friend from falling over.

Any strength that Villain had once held in their legs had long since been stolen away from them. After a few clumsy attempts to get them to their feet, Hero resolved to a simple bridal carry.

They could only hope that Villain would not remember this. They would never hear the end of it.

Without the benefit of an eye in the sky, all Hero could do against the possibility of cameras was to lean over the load they carried, hoping it at least obscured Villain’s face.

The HQ was deserted.

At this hour, it was never deserted.

The very thought made their blood turn to frozen slush, but they had no choice but to keep moving. Keep moving to the elevator, then out of it. Keep moving to their floor, then their quarters.

At the very least, Teammate’s snoring still echoed. Not everything was out of place.

Well-placed steps led Hero to their dorm, locking the door behind themself.

They looked down.

Villain was in their room. Their dorm. They were really never going to hear the end of this, were they?

Unfortunately, hours spent panicking over their nemesis’ condition had not spontaneously made Hero a doctor. Whatever they were going through right now, helping them through it was beyond them.

They had no medicines. No treatments. But, they had a closet, and a pile of blankets within. When Villain was finally tucked into the makeshift bed, they were almost invisible beneath the layers of fabric.

Though they were not quite sure why, Hero smiled.

That odd expression remained on their face as they got to their knees, staring upon their work.

For once, they had done something right. They had succeeded at something. Take that, Leader!

Villain twitched.

For a moment, Hero thought that their nerves had simply made them hallucinate the movement. But, no, they certainly had not dreamed it, as a moment later, the small movement repeated itself.

Villain opened their eyes. They spoke as though their tongue was made of ice, but that did not make their voice any quieter.

“Please, no! Please! Please, don’t do this! Help me help me help me someone help me. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it!”

The sobbing grew to such a point that it shook Hero’s chest, like the thrum of a bass, echoing through the floor.

“Please!”

Through all the chaos, Hero was surprised that they even heard the knock at the door, and the quiet voice that came with it:

“Hero? Hero, it’s Teammate. Is everything okay in there?”

“I didn’t mean to see it! I won’t tell Hero, I promise! I promise!”

All at once, Hero understood the saying of being caught between a rock and a hard place.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Hero has gone this alone for too long, and Teammate is their friend. Let Teammate in. - How should Hero quiet Villain?

B.) Teammate is a risk, and Hero has already taken enough of those. Don’t let them in - How should Hero explain this?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #nemesis #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #villain whumpee #powered whumpee #drugged whumpee #drugged villain

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

lavender latte: viii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || chapter 7 || chapter 9 ||

masterlist

word count: ~4.7k

realities, huh.

warnings: descriptions of blood and bodily injury, post-traumatic symptoms, panic/anxiety attacks

----

oof. wow. here it is, part one of the BIG boy chapter. please mind the warnings on this one!! trauma and post-traumatic symptoms are a big theme in this chapter and the next.

as an author, these have been some of the harder, more vulnerable chapters to create and i hope that the writing shows this :’’’^) all that said, enjoy :’^)

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Keigo was fucked up.

Or he had fucked up.

It was hard to tell the specifics of his predicament, considering how hard he’d hit his head.

‘Hawks’ was known for his speed, his skill, and his ability to finish fights off before they even had a chance to truly start. He prided himself on his prowess, the product of his own diligence and meticulous training. Normally, Keigo kept to these high standards without fail and with faltering.

On the rare occasion he did get injured, it was usually simple scrapes or bruises.

Except, sometimes time, his shortcomings created much more than scratches.

His left arm was twisted the wrong way, wrenched from its socket. His skull ached, hair sticking to the back of his neck and cold.

Keigo blinked slowly, vision tilting and blurry against the asphalt he’d crashed onto. He’d sent his feathers to finish off what was left of the fight, knowing that he was, bodily, down for the count.

It hadn’t started as a large fight, notably. It shouldn’t have gotten so bad. The first alert he’d received just made it seem like petty burglary. Quickly after arriving on the scene, it escalated into an entire firefight spanning several blocks.

He’d been one of the first heroes there, naturally. It wasn’t hard to disarm and pin most of the villains down, but quickly, things got out of hand. Figures forming from the afternoon’s shadows, quickly turning the simple de-escalation into an all-out brawl.

Keigo pushed himself from the filthy ground, coughing up spittle and blood on the blacktop below. It wasn’t from an internal injury, he knew, just a bitten tongue and cheek that made the drippings of his mouth pink and cloudy.

He sat up, forcing himself to his feet as more heroes arrived, finishing the job out of sheer numbers. Mentally, he cursed his mistakes and his stupor. The media circus and bureaucratic bullshit he was undoubtedly going to have to deal with made him audibly groan. Keigo could handle pain without question, but his least favorite parts of his job were the nuts and bolts of it all.

Maybe it was the head trauma or the fact he’d just gotten sloppy lately, but Keigo didn’t even notice the oddly large amount of shattered glass at the scene or the shadows that loomed and weaved without rest nearby, though they never moved to the offensive.

...

You sat on your couch, boot propped up (as usual), and a pillow hugged in your arms.

Typically, you weren’t one to watch the news, but the moment you’d seen the alert from your phone about ‘large scale villain attack- Hawks and Miruko on the scene!, you’d rushed to turn on any channel that had coverage.

Which, creating a sense of dread in your gut, was most of them.

You watched the varying camera angles of the fight, squeezing the pillow tightly in your arms like the pressure would comfort you.

The fear and terror was such a contrast to the absolute bliss of the first couple of weeks of you and Keigo’s relationship.

During that time, your text-based communication hardly changed, still ambiently throughout the day and including the exchange of many memes and well-placed photographs and selfies.

The messages had changed, somewhat, truth be told. There was a sweetness to it, soft, warm, and new. The bantering never stopped, but woven within each of your words were small, tender lines that were new to you both.

Wonderfully new.

You found that Keigo was particularly affectionate over text, but it was nothing compared to him in-person.

You hadn’t really expected him to be clingy. Not based on the way he texted and talked previously and how he was generally portrayed by the public.

But god, was he.

He came over several other nights, always bearing food, drinks, and a bright smile. He wouldn’t even think of settling for the evening in the comfort of your couch (or bed) until you’d been showered in kisses and teasing touches, always seeming hungry, maybe even starved.

He was careful, however, to never go too far or touch too much.

When you two would finally settle on the couch, usually finding yourself strewn over each other in some way, Keigo would continue heaping on affection in any way he could, subtle or otherwise. You returned the gestures, giving your own too.

You craved the heat of his body in the same way he hungered for yours.

You found that, as the nights would wear on, he tended to slip his rough hands under any top you might be wearing, settling his grip on your sides or back. He’d either press and massage, or just ambiently draw shapes. At first, you thought it was some sort of sexual preamble, expecting his touch to drift higher and hungrier.

It took you a night or two of it to realize it wasn’t like that at all—

Keigo just craved contact.

It all made sense, though your revelation surprised you a bi at first.

One night, with his head in your lap, you had simply hummed out, “I never thought you’d be touch-starved.”

Keigo hummed as you ran your nails around the shell of his ear, “Mind elaborating on that one?”

“You’re always touching me when we’re together,” You replied simply, heart squeezing at the little twinges of anxiety you could see forming around Keigo’s eyes. “Not that it's a bad thing— I really love all of it, it’s just sweet. I didn’t think you’d be so affectionate and touchy. I would dare to say, it's cute.”

That comment turned Keigo’s cheeks bright red, though you hardly got much of a chance to tease him about it before he was on you with another wave of soft kisses and squeezes.

Maybe, you were a little touch-starved yourself.

And definitely, surely, falling into each other simply and sweetly felt like heaven.

...

But all of that syrupy goodness was gone, the flavor of it stale and rotten.

All you could focus on was your TV screen as Hawks was being pulled from an alleyway. The camera angle was poor, the quality shaky, but the picture was clear as day to you.

Keigo was walking, barely, most of his weight bared into Miruko’s side. He looked half-dead when he first emerged, limbs twisted painfully and face downcast.

He brightened up a moment later. You weren’t even sure that anyone would’ve caught the change in his expression if they didn’t know him as intimately as you did.

Your chest tightened painfully when he gave his most dashing smile, pearly white teeth stained with blood that was rushing from a wide cut on his forehead. The juxtaposition of him being purely fucked up mixed with the shining expressions he was flashing at the media made your stomach churn with dread.

He’s hurt.

And it seems bad.

You chewed your bottom lip until it ached.

The newscast kept playing, showing the wreckage of the scene, all of the hurt civilians— it was a few cities over, but you swore you could hear the sirens just outside of your window.

You dug around for your phone, typing out a message to Keigo, fingers shaking as you did.

[you]: hey i saw about the attack? how are you doing?

Texting him was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? If you could, you’d call. But based on the way he was reported to have been taken to a nearby hospital, he wouldn’t be answering his phone any time soon.

It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could you do?

You felt uncomfortably powerless.

A very lucid, perhaps cruel part of your mind rang out amid your quiet panic:

Get used to it.

You fell back into the cushions, unable to turn off the screen, though unable to do anything other than watch and churn.

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Keigo didn’t have a great recollection of the day's events after sustaining his fairly significant head injury, not to mention the shattering of the bones in his right arm and a few in his left leg. Not to mention his sorely dislocated shoulder.

Pain blotted things out memory, he knew.

Hospital trips were few and far between for Keigo, but in the unfortunate circumstance he was stuck and strung up with wires and IV tubes, he was more than well taken care of.

He was aware, somewhat, of the Commission’s hold on the scruff of his neck, though complacent in it. His good attitude and impeccable, nearly-perfect performance earned him the best medical care they could provide.

Some sweet girl, a student from the west, was brought in to heal his wounds. Healing quirks of any significance were rare, so it was always interesting to see how they worked and manifested.

The girl’s quirk came at the price of any energy his body had, but he was completely patched up in a number of minutes. Fatigue be damned, he was happy to be quickly and easily put back together. He made sure to put on his best camera-ready smile as the girl traced symbols on the backs of his hands, fingers shaking and shyly smiling.

She was probably starstruck, all things considered. Meanwhile, Keigo was exhausted and out of it.

All through it, all of it, the actual fight and subsequent medical nightmare, he had slipped into a far different mindset than the one he’d been occupying for the last couple of weeks.

Consequently, he hadn’t thought of you at all.

You didn’t even cross his mind.

Keigo could’ve blamed it on hitting his head, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair or truthful.

All the same, the absence would burn later.

...

Keigo flashed a dopey smile to the door of his hospital room when he spotted a familiar puff of bright yellow hair.

Despite his stupor, familiarity still resonated. Besides, his PA stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greyscale scrubs and antiseptic.

“Akane! I knew you’d never be far in my time of need,” Keigo relaxed against the hospital bed he was still resigned to. He was to be discharged as soon as possible for the bevy of press reports he would had to complete. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork he’d probably have to file and sign.

Akane kept a stern but humored expression as she shooed a nurse out of Keigo’s room. She was shorter than most, face cut with sharp angles and high ridges. They were dressed immaculately as always, a well-tailored black suit with crisp-looking dress shoes. All professionalism, trained and honed by the Commission in a similar way to Keigo, though it was implicitly recognized.

“You’ve got a press conference in thirty with Miruko,” Akane didn’t answer his greeting, though Keigo could tell by their quick nod that it was at least acknowledged. They rolled a small suitcase next to the bed. “Extra hero costume in there. I called your normal hair and makeup, they’ll be in a few minutes after I leave. It’s been a while since you’ve been this injured in a fight, so put on a good show for everyone, won’t you?”

Akane’s sarcasm always brought a smile to his face, contrasting so starkly with their well-pressed hems and seams.

Keigo quickly sat up, dropping his feet to the cold linoleum below, “Always a show.”

He quickly began to re-robe into his new garments, tired mind returning to its trained roots.

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You had been watching the newscast for hours, probably (definitely) against your best interest.

You’d have plenty of time to kick yourself for it later.

You couldn’t stop watching the repetitive footage and bland media, despite the report that ‘Hawks’ was safe, well and receiving treatment.

Until you saw him, you couldn’t rest—- Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

The image of him bloodied felt painfully etched into the forefront of your mind. The contours and highlights of Keigo’s wounds were uncomfortably bright and hot, nestled next to swirling images of your own. Uncomfortably vivid sensations and colors of your own stitched-up wounds that once wept blood themselves.

If you steeped in it all too deeply or for too long, your breathing would quicken, memories unbridled in the way they sucked down.

Sweat dripping down your brow, you willed your breath even and slowly despite how you definitely were having trouble handling what you were experiencing.

As the evening wore into night, you remained wired.

You convinced yourself, despite the thorns that ran deep, you would be able to rest once you saw Keigo well.

Eventually, there was an announcement for a late press conference, a conclusion to the media frenzy.

You knew you’d stay up for it, no matter how long it took to air. You knew he was fine, it had been confirmed over and over throughout the coverage, but it wasn’t enough.

You just need to see him.

Then you’ll be fine.

Keigo is fine.

No amount of reassurance comforted you. You were sinking too deeply in your throes, ungrounded and crackling within your own fragile mind.

The memories of blood and gore and hot, white fear rolled over you, suffocatingly close to how you’d felt less than a month prior.

On the cold cement floor of the tea shop, you had Keigo’s feather, the knowingness that he would be there.

Yet, now?

You were alone in your dim apartment.

No Keigo.

No villains.

Just you and your skull.

You had to pull yourself back when you felt your quirk begin to activate with your adrenaline, thankful for the low stimulation of your apartment, and the pillow in your arms being exchanged for the plushie Keigo had gifted you. You forced yourself to ground, counting your breaths, and holding yourself together.

(Maybe the trauma of your own run-in was deeper than you wanted to acknowledge.)

You pushed the thought aside as the live footage of the press conference began. It was better to compartmentalize it all, wasn’t it? Why not shove it back where it was easier to not deal with? You’d get a therapist or something.

If Keigo is okay, you’ll be okay.

The press conference decor was coated with the diamond insignia of the Public Safety Hero Commission, along with a few sponsors and nearby police departments. Local heroes and police officers sat around microphones with plastic waterbottles, ringing around the focal points of the events:

Keigo and Miruko.

Seeing him, perfectly in uniform and switched-on didn’t make you feel better.

If anything, it made you feel worse.

Before everything, when he was just your regular you pined after, you saw and heard of him doing heroic duties all the time.

But, it was different when Keigo was your partner, yet living an entirely different reality from yours. In the safety of your apartment, and formerly the teashop, that line of difference was somewhat blurred, or, it at least appeared to be.

But while Keigo was shiny and dazzling, charismatic and blunt as ever on the stage of the conference, the contrast turned polar.

As there was a jeer of laughter, Keigo grinning as Miruko clapped a hand on his back, your stomach rolled.

Seeing him fine and good-as-new wasn’t soothing.

It was like pouring moonshine on a brush fire.

Every moment of the conference highlighted the separation between the two of you, the feeling of fear and now loss so strongly in your mind, it started to taste like the tannin of a rotten wine .

The concoction was made even viler as the memories of injuries didn’t fade or falter.

Your chest ached.

The press conference droned on in front of you, but none of the content of it registered. It was all sickly background noise to your own pains

You pressed the plushie against your stomach, ignoring the phantom stabs of rancid-yellow that traced up your leg from your booted foot.

...

“From what we can surmise, there’s activity of several different villain groups in this area that are connected. This incident is related.”

...

You were getting to yourself, you had been all evening. The problem was you couldn’t climb out—

Not if you weren’t honest and self-aware.

Too bad you were actively spiraling away from anything even close to the latter and former.

...

“There is much we don’t know at this time, but it is clear there must be further investigation into the roots of the attack.”

...

You recognized, even then, that Keigo was going to be in harm's way because of his job, constantly. He was always in danger.

It just felt different, having to see it play out in front of you, isolated from him in all ways except the glimmer he showed the cameras and the gore he bore prior.

The absences burned.

Your gaze moved to your phone, the device still dormant.

With a thick, sticky swallow, you resigned yourself to sitting back into the cushions of your couch, spiraling and numbing as you had been hours.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Following the press conference, Keigo had one priority—

Sleep.

Despite Akane’s nagging that they ‘really needed to talk to him’, Keigo was exhausted after being healed and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest for as long as he could make himself lay still.

Maybe, he could’ve handled a patrol (if he had had anything significant of his wings left), but he could not stand the idea of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit in his wrung-out state.

At this admission, Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Fine, but you need to come to the office as soon as possible,” Akane seemed exasperated after such a long evening (now night), of dealing with the attack. “Seriously, or your publicist is going to kick both of our asses.”

Keigo didn’t ponder too far into the topic of whatever Akane needed him for. Far too mentally wiped-out to bother with what was undoubtedly bureaucratic bullshit.

He rolled his eyes, sending a feather forward to trigger the automatic doors ahead, “I’ll be sure to come in— It’s not like I don’t have a backlog of paperwork to finish.”

“That too,” Akane sighed, pausing outside of the doors, just dimly lit under the lip of the entrance of the building. “Feel better, quick. And please, stay safe.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, “You know I always am. I’ll see you around tomorrow, bright and early.”

Keigo flew away so quickly, he didn't notice Akane’s pinched expression and set jaw and she waved goodbye.

...

Nearly featherless and on the edge of total exhaustion, Keigo dragged himself back to his penthouse. His mind and body ached, his thoughts messy and disorganized.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar state, though he didn’t get to it often.

He had ample training to not get like this. The fuzziness he was clouded by should’ve been tossed aside easily; he blamed his own overcast on the healing he received.

(And, not that he, perhaps, had more on his mind as of late)