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tojivu · 1 year ago

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# SOBER UP ‣ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

✰ — author’s note should this be considered a shtpost LOL

✰ — playing mad riches by sonder .

✰ — cw / tags mentions of alcohol , comfort and fluff , f!reader , college au , ex boyfriend + situationship megumi , idk if i made him seem like a red flag here but idc… #megumiapologist

✰ — word count 1.7k

MEGUMI , who tags along when his friends go drinking at a bar nearby your campus and has an alcohol tolerance higher than everyone in the room, combined.

this man does not play when it comes to drinking games. honestly, he would not be interested in playing at all if not for yuji egging him on—any chance to prove himself will not go wasted, especially when it’s his own best friend doubting his ability.

you’re playing along, after yuji had pestered your friends to join in—you took one for the team and decided to go with it. truth or drink: two options, it would be an easy feat. just pick truth every time.

everyone is gathered around the large table at the centre of the establishment, glasses in hand. megumi is across from you, blank expression worn—he doesn’t seem to be enjoying the occasion, but he's partaking anyway. his arms are crossed, eyes locked on the surface of the table. you had hoped to speak to him tonight, but it seemed like you wouldn't be able to.

you’re swirling your glass around, generating a whirlpool in your drink—waiting for yuji to move on from asking nonsensical questions and to let the night get more exciting. he seems to be the life of the party, people often picking him to answer their queries: it’s a horrible time to be popular, because he soon excuses himself after a few glasses.

it’s that way with everyone in the group, with every popular student getting picked in order—eventually, it’s just you, megumi, and 3 other people.

“y/n.” an unfamiliar voice calls your name, one belonging to a boy you’ve never seen before. “truth or drink?”

“truth.” you respond, wanting to last as long as possible: not taking a sip until it was absolutely necessary. your apartment was quite a long way from where you were: a long cab ride with an intoxicated system didn’t sound appealing at all. you hoped it wouldn’t be too scandalous of a question, after all, not many people knew you personally—so they didn’t have much to ask.

“anyone here. . . you don’t mind going on a date with?”

that was a stupid question. your college was full of teenage-minded boys who didn't think twice before doing anything. nobody was serious enough for your taste, and regretfully so: you're unable to answer the question and you take a shot.

MEGUMI , who glares at you, despondently, from athwart the table because you didn't answer the question with his name. he exhales, eyebrows furrowing and the grip on his cup tightening. it was unfair of him to expect a response with his name—after what had happened.

fushiguro and you were a complicated pair. many have heard of you two and yet knew so little: you've dated him in the past and things were on and off since then. yet, people pretend they don't see you slipping out of his dorm as soon as the sun rises, and that they don't see him staring daggers into any man that speaks to you.

sure, you two would have your flings—each time swearing it was the last. you knew it wasn’t right, but if nobody uttered any ‘i love you’s, what was the real harm?

just a week ago, an argument ensued between the two of you. he was yelling about how he had too many classes and couldn't see you, and you were saying how he should've tried anyway.

he reminded you that night that you two weren't together anymore, and off you went; out his door and no calls returned.

megumi knew you were angry when you didn't bother scolding him via text, as you usually would, but he knew you were livid when you didn't bother thinking of your answer—instead chugging your glass.

your giggles get louder, and your head dizzier. you're holding onto the chair behind you, and megumi is pissed off with the way your friends are more concerned with taking pictures than looking out for you.

the circle remains, with the same boy picking you to answer his inappropriate questions regarding your love life. megumi is concerned with how much alcohol is entering your system. he's standing up straight now, worried that you'll black out any moment—he knew better than anyone that you couldn't hold your liquor. he can't help but blame the guy picking on you; you seemed to be stuttering and yet he didn't stop.

"you know what," he walks around the table and grabs the empty cup from your hands. "this is dangerous. you can't handle liquor."

you're stumbling over your own feet as you try to retrieve your cup from megumi, who's raising it over his head and out of your reach.

"'gumi . . ."

your words are slurred and your face is flushed red. your hands try to reach up, but come down to his chest as you almost fall on top of him. megumi is concerned, but his face shows annoyance; he places the cup down and slithers his arm around your waist to support you.

it's been a long while since you called him that, or any nickname at all. something stirs in his chest, it was something about his nickname leaving your lips—he can't help but stare at them, so that's precisely what he does.

"i'm taking you home."

you whine, but your uncoordinated self is unable to fight the strong arms that pull you out of the bar, away from the crowd and onto the pavement outside.

you're hitting megumi's chest while babbling nonstop about how much of a party pooper he is. the look on his face appears nonchalant—your ex couldn't care less about ruining the fun. he cared about you, and the least he could do was make sure you got home safe.

"you're always like this, 'gumi . . ." you hit his chest again, your head buried in the crook of his neck. your breath against his skin tickles, shuddering when you say his name. "always . . . ruining the fun."

megumi's attempts at hailing a cab render useless, and public transport had their last journey an hour ago. you complain about your heels to him, with a pout that makes him weak in the knees.

"your shoes . . . so comfy."

he swears under his breath because no other girl could embarass him like this. megumi walks with you, your gleaming heels in his hands and his socks getting torn by the harsh asphalt. he hates being barefoot—but you're treading the path happily, wearing his sneakers—so he thinks it's bearable, just for a short while.

MEGUMI , who takes you to a convenience store close by and buys you two bottles of water, hoping you could sober up a little.

it's 2 in the morning and you're sitting on a bench outside of a 7-11 with your ex boyfriend, who you can't help but stare at. he looks unusually handsome, you think, just a little bit more than usual. you feel like your first year self pining over him all over again, but this time, he's much closer.

you remember the fight a week ago and you're brought back to reality of what it was. megumi hit you cold and hard with the truth, and you find yourself shifting your gaze to the empty bottle of water at your feet.

you hear megumi's breath hitch a few times, almost as if he was meaning to say something—but you didn't know if you would want to hear it, after everything that had unfolded between you two.

"just say it, megumi." you blurt out, thinking there was no point in keeping things unsaid. you were annoyed with the way he would turn back and forth between you and the road.

he's not certain if he's glad to hear you say his full name, at least you're sober—but he hates the fact that you don't say megumi like you say gumi.

"i still love you, y/n." megumi mumbles.

you look at him, your eyes immediately noticing his staring at you before you even turned your head. you get up from the bench, unable to make sense of what he just said: apologies quickly leave your mouth and you're power walking away.

MEGUMI , who trails behind you, asking you to wait—he had your heels, and those were his shoes on your feet.

nothing changes until you arrive at your front door. you're completely sober thanks to the water megumi forced you to chug, and he’s behind you. you turn from the door to face him, and your stubbornness is suddenly dissipating.

your heels are still in his hands and his socks are completely torn.

"yeah, this is your fault."

you roll your eyes. "i did nothing."

megumi scoffs, looking down at the floor. he's not sure what to say to make this any less awkward—he's already spoken his mind.

"just come in, 'gumi. i've had enough of your complaining."

his eyes light up when you say the two syllable word. he takes his socks off in milliseconds, leaving your heels outside and letting himself be pulled by the sleeve into your apartment.

MEGUMI , who wakes up in your bed with his arm around the small of your back, keeping you close to him—sunlight is spilling in through the gaps of your curtains. it’s shining on his chest and subsequently, you: your head is laid on his bare chest, your legs resting on top of his. your breath is warm against his skin, your left arm hugging him tight around the waist.

your breathing is calm and slow, but it comes to a brief stop when you wake up soon after him. you yawn, head throbbing, but it doesn't stop you from looking up at fushiguro—who's been staring at you for awhile.

"we might as well just get back together."

megumi thought you were kidding, after you had just run away from him after his confession the night before: but you were everything but a joker.

he runs his fingers through your hair, before sighing softly.

"that's not a bad idea."

his fingers playing with your hair was lulling you back to sleep, along with the warmth of skin to skin contact and a voice that seemed as smooth as velvet. there wasn't much time before your headache and him combined knocked you out.

". . . i love you, 'gumi.” is all you manage to say before closing your eyes, allowing fushiguro to savour the words in private as you slept soundly.

he was thankful that you were exhausted—the red on his cheeks was much too embarrassing to be seen.

201023 — hello … new layout what do u guys think ? (　ﾟдﾟ)

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midasfantasy · 2 months ago

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Sonder & Soul Ties

synopsis : every action has its equal opposite reaction. it wasn't your fault society failed you, turning you away at every turn for matters outside of your control. for a world built on fighting evil, people suspiciously had a way of ensuring there would always be more of it. so, you can't really be blamed for ending up surrounded by and helping japan's most wanted criminals. or for wanting them yourself.

content : BNHA villains x fem!reader

chapter warnings : cursing and the worst man known to humanity.

chapter notes : well, well, well. if it’s isn’t the consequences to your actions.

two, red herring

“What do I need to do to keep you out of my station?”

Detective Tsukauchi, who knows you better than anyone at this point thanks to all your investigations, walks into the interrogation room you have been relocated to. He looks just about as exasperated as he had the last twenty times you both ended up in this room, his soul wavering around him like a dreary cloud of blue fog.

“In my defense, the guy approached me first,” You say, straightening in your seat some to bow your head to him in greeting.

“The guy was one of Japan’s most wanted criminals,” Tsukauchi shoots you a withered look, and frankly you both shouldn’t be speaking so informally considering the context of your situation, but decorum was thrown out the window after the authorities of Japan realized you were probably going to spend the rest of your lives being familiar thanks to your uncanny luck. Or rather lack thereof. “He died protecting you, [S/N]-san. I think it’s safe to say the whole station is a little baffled.”

“I thought you’d be used to this by now,” You grumble, raising a brow at Tsukauchi as he takes a seat in the chair opposite of you.

“Every time I think I’ve seen the last of you, you end up in an even bigger mess than before. Although I doubt you’ll be able to top this one,” Tsukauchi murmurs to himself, shaking his head. He drags a hand down his face, pulling at his morning shadow that he probably didn’t have time to shave down before being called into the station to deal with this… mess.

“We’re trying to understand what and why everything happened,” He continues, this time with some actual professionalism. Tsukauchi schools his features into his practiced work face, pleasant and encouraging, motioning for you to begin.

“Well, I can tell you I didn’t mean to be there,” You slouch into your metal chair, glowering when you hear Tsukauchi mutter an incredulous, almost amused, ‘she didn’t mean to be there’ as he marks down your testimony onto a notepad. “I didn’t even know what day of the week it was if I’m being completely transparent.”

Tsukauchi thankfully does not comment on that last part. “And you had no connections to the Hero Killer prior to the attack?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, I associate with only the highest morals,” You tut, crossing your legs and twiddling with your thumbs.

He raises a brow that you know means he smells bullshit, but you are not going to elaborate on it. He doesn’t need to know you have no friends.

“I’m glad, you’ll need a good support system after what happened to you,” Tsukauchi says instead, fidgeting with his pen. His soul fluctuates, solidifying around him more as he settles his resolve. “Although, and I’m sure I don’t have to say it, you do always have everyone here to keep an eye on you. All you have to do is ask.”

You uncross your legs and sink deep into your chair, sighing dramatically. “I know, Tsukauchi. Thank you, I’m sure the second we’re done here I’ll be getting the earful of my life for nearly getting killed.”

“I’m inclined to give you an earful myself,” Tsukauchi sets down his notepad and pen down, his face suddenly much more hard-set. “The Hero Killer made a sudden appearance, and an even more sudden departure. But the Nomus began attacking well before the heroes even knew he was there. Evacuation procedures had already began, it’s inconceivable that you didn’t even hear—“

Tsukauchi cuts himself off, swallowing thickly before rubbing at the heavy bags beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry, [S/N]-san. There are so many people who care about you, myself included. Getting the call to come in and the debriefing on what happened was awful. No one here wants to see you… die, and certainly not in a way that could have been prevented.”

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, voice small. You’ve almost completely disappeared into your chair, your arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to appear smaller. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I… it’s stupid, I want to promise this won’t happen again, but I can’t even say that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m sorry you all keep getting dragged into it.”

“[S/N], please don’t speak like that,” Tsukauchi looks remorseful as he leans over the table, laying his hands out palm-up to you. You sniffle, but untangle the ball of nerves you’ve become to let him hold your hands. “There is nothing wrong with you, and you know every person here who would jump at the chance to help you with whatever you’re struggling with.”

“But I’ve caused so much trouble,” You mumble weakly, your shoulders shaking as he squeezes your hands, listening closely. ”How do you all not get tired of me?”

“You’re young, you’ve had enough terrible experiences to last you a lifetime. How you manage school, work, and everything the world throws at you is beyond me,” Tsukauchi says, smiling warmly. “It’s why we know you’re going to go so far. There won’t be anything that can stop you. We’re going to get you through this, okay?”

It feels like an impossible task trying not to cry again, you normally do good at keeping everything in check, but the last 24-hours have left you unbearably vulnerable. Your throat is thick with emotion as you speak, “Okay.”

“Do you feel up to continuing questioning?” Tsukauchi implores gently, thumbs rubbing at the tops of your hands. You nod quickly, pulling away and straightening in your seat like a decent human being.

“Yeah, I guess I should just come out and say I don’t really remember much. I was… really drunk,” You do not make eye contact as you speak, folding your fingers in your lap and taking a deep breath. “It’s mostly small moments, like flashes.”

“We can work with that. Tell me what you see in these flashes,” Tsukauchi picks up his pen and notepad again, his eyes kind when you finally brave a glance up at him.

“Well,” You start, clearing your throat, “I remember the… creature, it lifted me off the ground. Oh— I remember it had talons too, and a lot of exposed organs.”

“I’m assuming you mean the Nomu?” Tsukauchi ventures, writing something down. When you don’t answer, he looks back up at you.

“What’s a Nomu?”

“…Seriously?”

“Is uh… is it like an invasive species?” You ask, feeling more stupid by the minute, Tsukauchi’s deadpan humbling your already wounded ego. “I don’t watch the news, just tell me what it is and stop being judgmental!”

“You don’t watch the news?” Tsukauchi asks incredulously. He looks distressed and upset all over again, eyebrows waning downwards as his eyes widen with horror. You make a panicked expression before shrugging and laughing nervously. “So—wait- when you called him ‘That Guy’, you seriously have no idea who the Hero Killer is? And you don’t know about the USJ attack?”

“No?” You blink, jumping in your seat when Tsukauchi slaps his forehead and murmurs to himself. “Is this, like, really bad?”

“Super bad,” Tsukauchi sighs, rubbing his temples. He then proceeds to launch into a detailed explanation of who Stain and the League of Villains is. He also explains what he knows about the Nomu, but no matter what he says you do not feel any better about its existence.

You also don’t feel any better about killing Stain, but it does comfort you some that he’s no longer able to hurt people.

“And that’s why I’m the one interrogating you. I’m the one in charge of the League’s case and because the Nomu targeted you, I’m trying to gather more information on why. Anything we can get to understand the League better, will bring us closer to defeating them,” Tsukauchi finishes his explanation, running a hand through his hair wearily.

“That makes more sense now, I was wondering why they made you come all the way here in the middle of the night when someone else could’ve run the procedure,” You hum thoughtfully, messing with your shoes under the table as you shift in your seat. “I thought you just cared a lot, but I guess that’s not the case…”

“[S/N],” Tsukauchi says, and you can see the metaphorical gray hairs you’re giving him.

“Joking!” You laugh, kicking his shin playfully under the table.

“Well, I don’t think there’s much more I can ask,” Tsukauchi shakes his head with a huff, stepping on one of your toes and chuckling when you yelp. “It sounds like your luck just got the better of you again.”

“So… we’re done?” You ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“We’re done,” Tsukauchi confirms with a pleasant smile, laughing when you jump from your seat to cheer and stretch.

“God I’m so tired, and I’m soooooo behind on assignments. I guess I have an excuse for being late now though?” You begin chatting to yourself, not catching the way Tsukauchi checks his watch and pales.

“Speaking of late— we’re way behind schedule. The Chief wants to see you, why don’t you go find him?” Tsukauchi ushers you from the room, ignoring your confusion as he grabs his coat and rushes about.

“Uhm, okay. Do you…” You start to ask, watching Tsukauchi place his hat on and adjust his buttons, already beginning to walk away. “Tsukauchi?”

“Hm?” Said man pauses, looking over his shoulder at you from half way down the hall. He really is in a hurry, what could be so important?

“Do you have to leave so soon?” You ask, taking a few steps closer and giving your best puppy-dog face. You probably look crazy, considering you’ve got tear stains, scratches, and blood shot eyes.

“I’m sorry, [S/N]. There are a few others I need to investigate, and you kno—“

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his shoulder and sighing as loud as you possibly can. He’s still for a moment, but eventually he melts, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back softly. It’s not often you get to touch people, or their souls. But when you make contact with Tsukauchi’s deep blue soul, you pull it against yourself tight, focusing every happy warm feeling you can into it. Your silent apology for all the headaches you know you’ve caused him.

“Is it really so hard to ask for the things you need, troublemaker?” Tsukauchi teases, poking your side and chuckling as you struggle in his grasp with a few curses about him being a traitor.

“No, I’m perfect. Nothing is difficult for me,” You insist, finally managing to pull away, just narrowly missing him trying to ruffle your hair.

“I wonder why you did not call when you ran into danger yesterday then,” A new voice speaks, and you immediately turn to salute, recognizing their gruff voice instantly.

Tsuragamae gives the worst tiniest amused huff at your display, which is a victory in itself, because you know he’s most definitely pissed at you. You are not excited to get a lecture from the Chief of the Hosu police station.

“I will be driving you home,” Tsuragamae informs you, his snout twitching as he sniffs the air. “Leave Tsukauchi-San to go, he has important business to attend to.”

You glance between the two men, blinking a few times as you try to figure out whatever silent conversation they’re having in front of you. They’re exchanging intense eye contact, and then, in the creepiest way possible, they nod at the same time before walking in opposite directions.

“I— hey-“ You sputter, unable to process what just happened. Tsukauchi is on route to exit at the back of the station, going who knows where; and Tsuragamae is walking towards the front, probably to fetch his car for the ride back to your shitty apartment.

“Gosh you two are impossible— Bye-bye Tsuka!” You call, jumping twice in the air and waving dramatically like he’s off to war and using a nickname just to be a dick. Spinning on your heel, you jog after the Chief, knowing you can’t really afford to keep him waiting when he’s already in a bad mood. “Tsuragamae, wait up, you’ve got long legs—“

You pause at the lobby, slapping your hands over your eyes and groaning. “It’s so bright, did you guys finally replace the LEDs?”

“…No, I was not aware they needed to be replaced,” Tsuragamae says, but you're too busy blinking open your eyes and squinting at the windows to care.

“It's already morning?!” You gasp, running through the front doors ahead of Tsuragamae, getting outside and squinting at the sun remorsefully.

“It is nearly the afternoon,” Tsuragamae says, walking up behind you and knocking the back of your head gently to get you to stop your staring. “Which means we need to hurry along. I am a busy man, I have got places to be.”

“Don’t patronize me,” You grumble, following after him and sliding into the back seat of his ridiculously nice car.

He won’t trick you with his textbook psychology, you’ll put as much distance between you both before he can start an argument you have no chance of winning anyway.

Tsuragamae’s forest green soul is tense, that much you are certain of. But Tsuragamae always has a stick up his ass, so it’s kind of difficult to get a read on where the tension is coming from. You want to think it’s because a person died after being taken into custody, but you’re pretty sure Endeavor is going to take the heat of that blow. The alternative is that he’s going to go full parental-mode and scold you within an inch of your life.

You really hope it’s the former.

The first few minutes of driving are so dreadfully quiet that you know for sure it’s the latter.

You’re not exactly a chatterbox per se, especially not with Tsuragamae, but you know how to hold a conversation. In contrast, pleasantries are not Tsuragamae’s strong suit. He has a level head in all case scenarios, and can rationalize virtually anything, all while constantly staying at a fact-based standpoint. This depersonalizing can make him insensitive at times though.

That's why you know he’s waiting for you to start the conversation, or maybe ask him what exactly he wants. He doesn’t want to feel like a jerk for getting straight to the point, even though it's obviously the only thing on his mind right now. Men.

“Do you want to explain yourself or did you get enough of an interrogation from Tsukauchi-san?” Tsuragamae asks, finally breaking your stalemate. He had nearly five whole minutes and still managed to find the most offensive way to open the conversation, charming.

“I’m not sure what I can say to get out of trouble with you,” You reply after another minute of silence, biting at your lip and staring intently out the window. “I had no idea it was so dangerous to be in Hosu right now, if I had been aware, I would’ve never left the house.”

“You own a phone, do you not?” Tsuragamae prods, sounding a little too condescending for your tastes.

“I do, but I’m not addicted. I mostly watch it for YoTube tutorials or music. I don’t watch the news,” You say, doing what you think is a fantastic job at keeping the annoyance from your tone.

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Tsuragamae’s soul literally spikes with frustration. You gulp and hold onto your seatbelt a little tighter, preparing for the worst.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t watch the news’?” Tsuragamae is just full of questions today it seems, because where you were expecting an outburst, he just sounds mildly miffed.

“The news is full of propaganda, I can’t be wasting my young impressionable mind away staring at a screen that wants me to submit to capitalism,” You respond cattily, basically asking for an argument. Yolo.

There is no argument though. Only more silence. It sets you on edge, because Tsuragamae always has an answer, even when he doesn’t want to.

“Endeavor says he saw you near where the Nomus were attacking,” Tsuragamae says plainly after the fourth minute of silence, catching your eyes in the rear view mirror with a glare that lets you know you’re in trouble. It tells you he knows you weren’t there by accident. It tells you he doesn’t believe you.

You decide at that moment you hate Endeavor, What a snitch.

“…I was trying to find paramedics,” You lie anyway, breaking eye contact in favor of staring out the window again. You’re willing to die on this hill even if it means defaming Endeavor and cursing his whole bloodline just to convince Tsuragamae of your innocence. In fact, you’re in such a bad mood you might just get home and block him on Twitter.

“Oh? Did you get injured before being attacked by the Nomu?” Tsuragamae asks, one of his ears flicking. He's using his no-nonsense tone now, and it successfully makes you feel scolded, even though he hasn’t truly started laying into you yet.

“No. There was… a kitten. I found it in the rubble,” You say, knowing you probably sound every bit like the liar you are. There was a kitten, but Crowly certainly wasn’t injured. Crowly was also a traitor, because Crowly abandoned you in your hour of need. “It reminded me of Tamakawa, I couldn’t just leave it.”

“And so you went towards the chaos, searching for help. Right. And I am supposed to believe this and let you off with a slap on the wrist?” Tsuragamae’s voice is more steeled now, and it’s the first time since before your grandmother passed that you feel like a child getting scolded again. “Forgive me, child, but I think there needs to be appropriate consequences for ignoring public law and deliberately putting yourself in harm's way. Putting others in harm's way.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” You grit your teeth, blinking your eyes rapidly. The feeling is different than from when Tsukauchi was lecturing you. You know that Tsuragamae is coming from the same place, but the way he goes about getting his point across can be uncomfortable, if not downright upsetting. “I can’t keep having this conversation. I don’t throw myself into situations like this willingly, all I have control over is what I do after.”

“You don’t watch the news, you go out alone at night without letting anyone know, and now you’re dragging your feet when asked to take responsibility for your actions,” Tsuragamae scolds, his voice gruff. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that he is just worried for you, and that reprimanding you is just his way of showing it.

“I’m not a child,” You say slowly, your frustration mounting. “I appreciate everything the police force has done for me, I know I would be a lot worse off without you all. I do care.”

“You do not act like it,” Tsuragamae barks back, and it’s your last straw.

“I invited you all to my high school graduation, I celebrate my birthdays with you, I call just to talk about my day and ask you to name the cats outside my apartment,” You’re ranting now, voice raising in pitch and volume. It’s no better than what Tsuragamae is doing to you, taking out his frustration, but damnit weren’t you the one who almost died? “I do half my homework in someone’s office or the lobby, I don’t go anywhere for the holidays because I’d rather be with everyone—“

Your nails are digging so deep into your palms you can feel as they break the skin. You know it’s a low blow even before it leaves your mouth, but you’re so exhausted from the last twenty-four hours that you can’t help yourself. “Wasn’t everyone there when my grandmother died?”

The silence that follows is as long as it is painful, because you aren’t sure if you’ve crossed a boundary, and Tsuragamae’s lack of a response somehow feels like more of an answer than any insult he could shoot at you right now. He has to know that it’s killing you, it’s why he’s been doing it this whole car ride, torturing you with the possibilities.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to lose my temper on you, child,” Tsuragamae finally replies, but he sounds defeated. Even his soul slumps, which is so utterly peculiar for him, it’s like seeing a white flamingo. It takes all the wind from your sails, and you deflate, not even realizing how tense you had gotten.

“I’m sorry too, I know you guys are just worried about me. If I want you to stop treating me like a child, I should stop giving you reasons to worry,” You say with a mighty sigh, hanging your head and resting it against the back of his seat.

“Well, that would certainly help,” Tsuragamae agrees, tone softer than before. Knowing that he isn’t angry at you lifts all the remaining weight from your shoulders.

It isn’t long before he’s pulling to the side of the road and parking his car in front of your building. It must look strange to your neighbors, having the chief of police as your personal chauffeur. Considering all the weird shit you get up to, it probably isn’t all that surprising though.

“I will walk you to your door,” Tsuragamae says, already unbuckling.

You freeze, panic setting in as you try to come up with an excuse. That eviction notice is still hanging on your front door. “Uhm! Maybe not— I uh- probably have guests!”

Tsuragamae pauses, giving you a pointed stare.

“Spot and Harley are probably outside, they uhm— they might get scared?” You venture, knowing damn well the cats Spot and Harley like Tsuragamae worlds more than you.

“If you would rather spend the time alone, I understand,” Tsuragamae replies, putting his seatbelt back on. You sigh quietly with relief, and open your car door, stepping out and bending at the waist to give him one last wave goodbye.

“I’ll see you soon, old man,” You say brightly, your most charming smile on as you wave enthusiastically before slamming the door and scream laughing in your dash away from his car.

“I had better not!” Tsuragamae shouts as he rolls down his window, a few more warnings mixed in as you giggle your way up the steps of your apartment.

When you turn the corner to walk down the corridor to your apartment, you find that suspiciously enough, there are no guests.

‘That's odd.’

You reach your door, and find it’s already a crack open. It sets off your alarm bells, but by nature you’re a curious person, so instead of running down to wave Tsuragamae back to help you investigate, you push open your door like every main character in a horror movie.

Inside, sitting on your bed, is a man in his late fifties. He's got on the most ancient pair of glasses to survive the 13th century, a vibrant purple suit that has definitely seen better days, and a scarf. In May.

His soul is a terrible green color, nothing at all like Tsuragamae’s. It’s foul and yellow tinted, and it reminds of how a leaf yellows when it dies. It sags and pools near his feet, sliming around him. You follow the movement with your eyes, distress mounting.

“Dude, you didn’t even take off your shoes,” You say with horror, looking down at the footprints he tracked over your carpet.

“You’ll have to forgive my rudeness,” The absolute monster who soiled your cozy home (jail cell), says, looking at you with growing interest. “I’m here to ask you about your future.”

“I don’t need help finding God,” You fume, snapping your fingers and pointing to the door, which is still standing open. “You can take your proselytization and knock off Prada pumps to the public service building down the street. I don’t do charity work.”

“I’m not a preacher,” The man says, still sitting on your bed, and still pressing his musty shoes into your carpet. His soul jumps with vexation, but you're certain that you're angrier than he is at this moment. “I want to know what you’ll do now that Stain is gone.”

“Hopefully my lab report. I’m a day late,” You sass, stomping closer to him, knowing full well you would lose in a fight if things escalated. “If that’s all, can you fuck off?”

“Kicking me out already? You haven’t even heard me out,” He says, looking up at you through his ugly ass glasses with a smile that’s more gums than teeth.

“You know what, I'm just gonna call the police,” You say, taking out your phone and swiping to the call app, already dialing Tsuragame’s personal number. You make sure he can see you doing it too, because you are a bitch who’s always ready to be called on her bluff.

“Wait—!”

‘That's more like it.’

“Oh? Don’t want me to?” You ask innocently, pressing each number with added theatrics. “You know how to make it stop.”

He does in fact know how to make it stop, because he grabs your wrist and snatches your phone from you. You were fully expecting him to leave your house, and you aren’t entirely sure why someone who broke in would do the morally right thing. Maybe Tsuragame has a point about the whole reckless thing.

“Stupid girl, do you not hear me? I’m trying to give you an opportunity,” He seethes in your face, squeezing your wrist. His breath smells like smoke, forcing you to wrinkle your nose and crane your head away from him just to make it clear you think he stinks.

“And are you not hearing me? I don’t want an opportunity from someone who broke into my house and can’t take no for an answer,” You spit back, struggling to yank your wrist away, swinging your foot out to knock his shin. Neither attempts work, as he is both stronger and quicker than you.

“Your door was unlocked, I wouldn't call that breaking in,” He argued, throwing you full force at your mattress to face plant into the comforter. You roll over and push yourself up again as quickly as you can, only to freeze as you come face to face with him hovering inches away from you, glaring behind his lenses. “I’m trying to reconnect you with Stain’s colleagues. Get you some friends when you’re clearly down on your luck, if you truly want me to leave you alone while the whole world scrambles to find you, I will.”

“What…” You stare back at him, wondering if you're still hungover and just misunderstood. “What do you mean the whole world is scrambling to find me.”

The old man doesn’t answer you, instead he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, clicking at the screen before turning it to you to display a video. He presses play and you cast him a curious glance. “You wanted to know.”

The video plays, and it details Stains life. It’s clearly propaganda, and you can feel your patience waning. Just as you're about to slap his phone from his hand and demand your own back, a clip of Stain raving begins to roll. What you failed to realize last night thanks to how wasted you were, is that Stain is absolutely captivating. Not in an attractive, charming way, but in a way that makes you sit and listen because his determination just pulls you right in.

So you sit, and you listen. It’s a miracle you managed to completely miss this speech last night, because it’s absolutely terrifying. But it captures your attention, and you get so sucked in that you forget what you're supposed to be looking for until Giran pauses the video just before it ends. He forces the phone closer into your face, and that’s when you see it. There, just behind Stain, is your fallen figure.

It’s just your luck that both the Nomu and the green-boy were out of the shot, but you remain just enough in frame to vaguely decipher your features. You glance down at the view count and blanche at the number, feeling horror strike you further when you spot just how short it’s been up for.

“You’re in the frame for less than two seconds and yet you’re the star of the show. Nearly every comment is about you, who you are, where you are, and what your connection to Stain is,” Giran pulls his phone away from you to look at the screen himself, opening the comment section and scrolling through them. “Strangely enough, no one seems to think you’re innocent. Looking at you now, I’d have never guessed you were capable of killing 46 people.”

“I was proven innocent in court for those deaths,” You say defensively, your heart rate picking up with every second. From the angle you’re at, you can’t see what the comments are saying, but you can imagine how obsessive they are. Fans of serial killers are the worst type of people.

“And isn’t that something?” Giran says more than he really asks, like he’s making a point. He sounds so sure of himself. Certain that you killed those people. You wonder if that’s what everyone thinks. If they think you killed every person you helped move onto the next world so they wouldn’t be alone.

What if the whole world thinks you killed your grandmother?

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears now, the rushing of your blood growing until there is nothing but a dull ringing echoing in your mind and your body trembles. Did Tsukauchi and Tsuragamae know about this? Why wouldn’t they bring it up? Why wouldn’t they warn you?

Swallowing the fear that’s paralyzed you is nearly an impossible task. Your stomach feels like it’s dropped to the bottom of the Earth, and your anxiety has nowhere to go. Giran’s mouth is moving with words, but you can’t hear him over the damn ringing in your ears. His ugly face isn’t helping you calm down at all.

You really wish you had your phone so you could call someone to help. You really really wish you could check to see what people are saying about you. You really really really wish the world would just stop for a minute so you could calm down.

How can you be in your own home, in your own bed, and feel so out of place? Out of body? Maybe you do need therapy, or god or whatever. It’s getting difficult to see on top of losing your sense of hearing, and you know it’ll only be a matter of time before you black out. But how can you black out when apparently a bunch of killer fans are hunting you down? You aren’t safe. You aren’t safe— You aren’t-

Just as it feels like there will be no salvation from your mind, a wave of calm washes over you.

It’s so sudden and dramatic that you actually sway in your spot, feeling light headed. The blindspots in your vision get worse for a few seconds even as you regain control over your body, blinking deliriously. You’re so wildly confused by it that you just pat at your forehead until you’re staring at the gross guy hovering over you.

The calm fades, leaving you empty and deeply confused, but at least your hearing has returned.

“…it’s funny though, they were there too yet all anyone can talk about is you and Stain. Be sure not to lay the ideology on too thick when you meet ‘em,” Giran’s words are finally louder than the ringing. He must really like the sound of his own voice to be talking for so long with no answer from you. He's still going through the comments on that stupid video. “The boss isn’t too fond of the Hero Killers ideology.”

“You talk too much,” You grumble, bringing a hand up to rub at your temples.

“You can call me Giran,” The man says, almost curiously as he pockets his phone with a grin just as slimy as his soul.

“…I’m [S/N],” You return slowly, still feeling like someone’s just dropped a bombshell on you.

“I know,” Giran says smuggly, finally taking his phone from your face and leaning away. “I want to help you, [S/N].”

“You can start by taking your shoes off,” You reply, standing from your bed and huffing, but all the fire has left your words. You’re biting at your lips, pulling at the dead skin you get caught between your teeth as you stare between Giran and his phone.

“Outside it is then,” Giran turns, finally walking out your door and into the hallway. He summons a lighter and cigarette from literal thin air, and lights it up, taking a drag before you can even reprimand him for it.

“How exactly are you going to help me?” You ask, following after him.

“Every villain in Japan is feeling motivated by Stain’s little going away speech. But he’s not here to follow up on any of that talking he did, so a lot of people have this overwhelming motivation to do something about it,” Giran explains, smoke leaving his lips and stinking up your entryway. “Not everyone can be a lone-wolf like Stain though. So they’re looking for a new leader.”

“And what, they think that’s me?” You ask dubiously, squinting your eyes at him and waving a hand in front of your face to try and prevent yourself from breathing in any ash.

“You aren’t much of a leader,” Giran remarks, looking you up and down. “Though, neither was Stain. Not sure how you managed to get close with the guy.”

“Uhm yeah,” Is your intelligent response, because telling Giran you were not close to Stain seems like a stupid idea.

“It’s too bad he’s going to Tartarus. But I guess it makes sense. With all the public craze, I wouldn’t put it past someone to try and break him out. At least there, he’ll be locked up for sure,” Giran takes another drag, flicking some soot onto your welcome mat and rubbing it in with the toe of his shoe.

Thankfully for him, you’re too preoccupied with what he said to flay him for it. “In Tartarus? Is that… what the news said?”

“Yeah, Endeavor made a public announcement and everything. Figures a guy like him would end up being the one to capture the Hero Killer,” Giran shrugs, then sends you a curious glance over the top of his rims. “Did you not know?”

“Uh—“ You stumble, realizing you came dangerously close to releasing apparently top secret information to someone who definitely shouldn’t know about it. “No, I just got out of investigation. I was at the station all day, and night. I haven’t gotten a chance to check the news.”

‘Why didn’t anyone say anything? Why are they keeping his death a secret?’

“They investigated you?” Giran asks, with a sudden wave of suspicion. His nasty slime soul spikes with thinly concealed threat, and you force your strongest poker face.

“And they found me innocent of any crimes, just figured I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” You say smoothly, making direct eye contact with Giran as you do. He hesitates for a moment before relaxing, going back for another smoke, soul evening. You aren’t much of a liar, you never have. Thankfully, half truths and leaving out important information suits you just fine.

“You’re lucky, not sure how you managed that with all those lie hound-dogs they’ve got, but maybe you aren’t as useless as you seem,” Giran concedes, dropping his cigarette and stomping on it twice before turning away from you. “Good to know, I’ll be in contact, [S\N].”

“Huh? Wait, you— you’re leaving? Now?” You stammer, panic seizing you. You still have so many questions. What about helping you? What about the opportunity? What are you supposed to do with everything you’ve learned?

“Send me a text when you make up your mind, I put my contact in your phone,” Giran tosses your phone at you (which you totally didn’t forget he had), and you dance around to try and catch it, sighing with relief when you manage to get all ten fingers around it.

And then he’s gone, only the smoke of his cigarette at your feet still burning. You check your phone screen to see that he had in fact left a contact on your phone, but it only had the text message function available, the phone call button grayed out.

Just below, in the notes section, he’s written “The job will pay well, don’t miss out.” You laugh at the absurdity, and also a little at his audacity, but mostly you laugh because this is the first job offer you’ve ever gotten in your whole 20 years of living. And you don’t even know what the job is.

’What a dick. I should kill that guy.’

➢ . . . . .

Giran is a fucking liar.

If you didn’t hate him before, you certainly do now. “I’ll contact you soon”, quickly became two weeks of waiting for him to reach out. When you’d sent him a text, he didn’t even bother answering, the asshole just left you on read.

It ends up being the most stressful two weeks of your life. Your homework managed to pile up after a single night of absence, and your recent slump hasn’t made it any easier to catch up.

And by slump, you mean late-night internet diving about any information you can find on yourself.

You know it’s stupid, but it’s so tempting, and the anxiety of not knowing what’s coming keeps you up at night anyway. Your logic was to get it out of your system in one go, just to relieve your anxiety and get back to your norm.

And then relieving the anxiety became scrolling on Reddit for hours under Stain forums. And Yotube. And TigTog. And Twitter, which you’d managed to block Endeavor on. You’ll never forgive him for ratting you out.

From what it seems. No one knows where you live. It’s at least not public information, which you have the police department to thank for. They keep your documents under tight restriction thanks to how many people already hated you for your “accidental” appearances at their loved one’s passing.

How Giran found you in under 24-hours is beyond you, but he’s clearly a man who has connections, and he’s been the only one. It isn’t much of a comfort, but you’re safe for now, so all you can do is hope.

Matter of fact, the only thing anyone seems interested in talking about you is your involvement with death. It’s like they don’t really care about you, they just care about how your mind works, and how you managed to ‘get away with murder so many times’.

It’s dehumanizing, and awful to read, but it’s also deeply addictive. You couldn’t admit you had a problem until the tenth day, when the first thing you did when you woke up was reach for your phone to check if there had been any new posts about you (there had). Checking your phone first thing when you wake up was so unlike you that you just gave up and deleted most, if not all your apps to try and cut the problem off at the root.

The worst part of it all is that you feel as though you can’t talk to anyone about it. You have the station, but you aren’t sure how much you trust them right now. Stain is dead, and yet the whole world knows a different story. As far as they’re concerned, you don’t know that the dark side of the internet is making you out to be some princess of darkness, a harbinger of reckoning. You literally just told both Tsukauchi and Tsuragamae that you don’t watch the news, and they know damn well you don’t talk to anyone outside of your close knit circle at the police department.

You don’t want them finding out about Giran, because then they’d know you’re getting evicted, and that would really suck. You also don’t know how you’re supposed to justify not immediately calling the police when you found a stranger in your home. Yeah, too many lectures. You’ll deal with internet-anxiety.

You’ve got, at best, a week and a half before you’re effectively homeless. That isn’t Giran’s fault, nor should you reasonably be placing all your bets on him getting you a job (because seriously, who the fuck trusts a guy like that), but you’re anxious and out of options.

When he does finally message you back, it’s one short text with the most cryptic description of a meetup spot you’ve ever seen. You genuinely stare and scratch your head at it for five minutes before going to sleep and deciding it’s a tomorrow-you problem, like you usually do.

Tomorrow-you suffers greatly for the consequences of her actions though, because you remain just as stumped about what the hell you’re supposed to be doing, where you’re going, and if you should be telling someone.

Giran doesn’t tell you what type of job it is, so you don’t bring anything with you. If he wanted you to, tough shit, he should’ve been more specific. You set out on foot to the random ass part of town Giran mentioned and figure that you’ll just have to check everywhere until you find him. Then, in all your mighty wisdom, you don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Again.

‘What they don’t know can’t hurt them.’

Finding the location Giran gave you was ridiculously difficult, much more than it probably should have been. You’re well aware you’ll need your wits about you, and that these types of dealings are typical for whatever mess you’re about to land yourself in, but for fucks sake street-smarts have never been your thing.

The only thing you’ve learned from ending up in a detective’s office every other weekend is that you have the survival instincts of a dodo bird.

When you do finally make it to the sketchy building Giran had vaguely (very vaguely) described over text, you take a moment to consider your options with your hands on your hips. This was probably your last chance to turn back and keep your innocence. You might not be shrewd, but you were aware enough to recognize that whatever ‘job’ Giran had for you, probably wouldn’t be entirely legal. Not when he asked you to meet in a building like this.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter what he’s got planned, there can’t possibly be a bigger crime than that ugly ass scarf and purple suit coat combo. You’ll be fine.

Shrugging, you make your way through one of the doorless entrances and into the building, careful not to step on any broken glass shards. The inside is just as abandoned and sad looking as the outside, but the air is remarkably more stale. If you breathed deep enough, you could catch the faint trace of something dying.

There’s not much of anything around besides bugs and weeds. This place isn’t just abandoned, it’s straight up deserted, reclaimed by nature. You’re sure if you weren’t specifically avoiding checking, you would find several spiders in any available corner or dark hole.

The only real sign of human occupation is the faint sound of voices somewhere deeper in the building. It takes you a bit of wandering to figure out exactly which direction they are coming from though, because your senses are dogwater.

When you do, you’re careful to walk quietly, tiptoeing as slowly as possible because realistically you have the stealth skills of a seagull. The voices get louder, and you can make out the familiar grimey tone of Giran among them.

There’s a door that’s mostly closed, with more light than any other room peeking out from under the gap. You’re certain it’s the right room, and you think yourself clever as you lean against the wall next to it. You have every intention to be the gossipy-eavesdropping-bitch you were always destined to be, but freeze when the talking stops and one of the voices speaks much louder than before.

“You can stop being shy and come in now,” The voice from the other side of the door commands. Damnit, busted.

Pushing away from the wall, you move to stand in front of your entryway to hell instead. You try to peek at the crack between the doorframe to figure out if you can see who is inside, and if you really want this. If there’s hookers on the other side of this door, you’re gonna run for the hills and move to a tiny island in the middle of the sea.

You cringe as you push the door open more with your foot, its hinges scream out impossibly loud. Inside, are three figures, who all turn to look at you.

Giran, who’s green soul flickers with interest as he spots you. An admittedly very cute looking girl with twin blonde buns on either side of her head and a soul of such a pale red color it looks pink. Finally, a man with large patches of burn scars and piercings lining every inch of his skin, who has the most pained purple soul you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Ah, there she is. Meet Stain’s apprentice.”

#bnha x fem!reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #dabi x reader #toga himiko x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #spinner x reader #mr compress x reader #overhaul x reader #twice x reader #geten x reader #s&st #Sonder and soul ties #magne mha #villain reader #mha x reader

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clickerflight · 3 months ago

Text

Voltober 18. Come Sweet Death - Sonder story

Author's Note: Another bit from Sonder Story with @writing-whump Is a very good time! This actually takes place before our writing starts. This is a part of Cody's backstory.

Masterlist - Voltober 17

Content: wolf whumpee, wolf whumper, minor whumpee, fear, 3/4ths of a death wish, execution, eviscerated, kind of sort or hospital whump if you squint at it

@voltober

Bleeding Out | Near Death Experience | Death Wish/Self Sacrifice

Cody sat shivering in a holding cell at the precinct. He rubbed at the terrible bruise forming on his arm where the chemicals in the dart used to subdue him interacted badly with his blood vessels. It reacted badly in all of him, actually. He was exhausted, he couldn’t stop tearing up, and he had thrown up everything he’d tried to eat in the last four hours.

He sat against the cold wall, pulling his knees to his chest and ignoring the chatter coming from the other cell. There were more people in there, all human. Wolves got their own cell, so they didn’t kill anyone if they decided to act up.

The silver bars radiated cold that Cody tried to get as far away from as possible. It was making him feel even sicker on top of the dart that had forcibly crushed his shadow.

He wished he could go back to this morning and warn himself of what he would be going through. To tell him to have a bit more restraint, to just never leave his room in the first place. All he wanted was a bit of sun and fresh air. He slipped out, but the twins noticed and they followed him to the local park, laughing and jeering as they followed him, never catching up to him but never far enough away to ignore.

When he had sighed and turned to face them, they got in his personal space, mocking him and his weak control over his shadow, pushing him around.

Cody wrapped his arms around his knees tighter when the words they said rang in his head. “Awww, are you gonna cry to your family pack? Oh, that’s right! You don’t have one! You’re lucky we agreed to have you here. You know wolves like you get killed just because they can’t control their shadows, right? Bet you’ll be gone within the year. What do you want us to bring to the funeral?”

Cody trembled. It was true. He’d only survived this long because of leaders who rolled his shadow down so the assessors wouldn’t realize how little control he had as a wolf. He had cheated the system to keep living, and it had come back to bite him. He had lost control there in the park, in public. He’d fought the twins and hadn’t been able to calm down until the police got there, called by the terrified humans.

And now he was here, waiting quietly after getting his mugshot and fingerprints taken, hoping the leader of the pack his social worker had placed him in would come to get him. At the same time, he almost hoped Kai would just leave him here forever. He was terrified of what the punishment would be for this. Wolves were only allowed to live with humans in cities based on how well they could control their own people in the packs. Cody losing it in public like that was a strike against wolves as a whole.

What if Kai killed him for it? Cody didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to think that the culmination of his life was just to be lonely, to suffer, and then to die because no wolf spent enough time or energy on him to teach him how to be a wolf himself.

No one would even care if he died. Or, if they did, they would be glad it finally happened.

Cody whimpered, burying his face in his knees, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t take this anymore. Maybe he would be happier if he was dead. Somehow, he couldn’t really believe that.

He looked up as he heard footsteps in the hall, recognizing one of the pairs of steps at Kai’s.

He stood up, staring at the floor as the leader of the pack appeared, two police officers just ahead of him.

One of them unlocked the door and said, “We usually leave this sort of decision up to the packs, but you might want to make some serious decisions about this one. I haven’t seen a pup go so crazy in public like that before. You might want to get him checked for madness.”

“Oh, I will make certain he is handled,” Kai said, his shadow spilling into the cell and hanging threatening around Cody’s feet.

Cody silently stepped forward, trembling. The cops spoke with Kai for a moment before Kai left, his shadow hanging around Cody like an escort.

Cody swallowed hard, trying to keep his breathing soft and careful as tears spilled down his cheeks. He was so scared. He was so scared and he had no idea how to get out of this situation. He just wanted this all to be over, however it ended.

It was dark outside, and rainy.

Kai flipped up his collar against the rain while Cody could only fold his arms as the freezing rain soaked into his t-shirt.

Kai didn’t speak as he walked through the quiet city, the unaffiliated street wolves shying away from his commanding shadow.

Cody could only follow, the rain replacing his tears as a strange sort of numbness descending over him. Emotional exhaustion was familiar to him at this point, and he welcomed it to protect him from whatever came next.

Kai stopped by an alley and gestured for Cody to go down it.

Cody hesitated for a moment too long and Kai grabbed his arm and shoved him down the alley, following him in.

“Do you take me for a fool, pup? We take you in after every other pack in the area kicked you out, and you do this!? Do you know how bad this makes us look!?”

Cody was barely listening, but he nodded anyway.

“It is a wonder that you haven’t been executed before now,” Kai snarled, taking a step forward and backing Cody against the brick wall. “I think it’s about time I do everyone a favor.”

He grabbed Cody by the throat, lifting up against the bricks.

The numbness was gone as quickly as a startled hummingbird. Cody gagged for air, grabbing onto Kai’s wrist and kicking his legs. He was going to die! Kai was going to kill him! Cody tried to beg, but didn’t have enough air to do so.

“What a waste of time an energy on all of our parts,” Kai growled. “Goodbye, pup.”

Kai’s shadow seemed to fill the entirety of the world and pain exploded from Cody’s stomach.

Kai dropped him to the ground, staring down at Cody as the huge gaping wound in his stomach spilled out blood to mix with the rain.

Cody reached his hand out after Kai as the pack leader turned and left him to bleed out.

Cody keened, reaching down to the wound, only to touch things that were never meant to be touched by his own fingers.

He gasped and tried not to gag, afraid that more of his organs would try and come out if he did so.

He realized too late that he wasn’t breathing as stars started around his vision, the edges darkening, and when he tried to get air in, the pain that lanced through his body forced him to shut down.

………………………..

He never expected to wake up, but he did. He woke in a hospital, his stomach sewed up, his organs where they rightly belonged, and wrapped in blankets that only seemed to emphasize how cold he was.

A nurse smiled kindly at him. “Good morning. How are you feeling.”

Cody stared at her before trying to sit up more against the pillows, stopping when his wrists caught on something. He looked down numbly at the straps around his wrists and the nurse tutted. “Sorry dear. Sometimes when wolves wake up it can get kind of scary so we have to be careful. Let me take those off for you.”

She reached over him, careful not to touch him, and undid one cuff, then they other. “I was just checking on you, but I can go get you something if you need. Are you thirsty?”

Cody stared up at her and nodded faintly, folding his hands together.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

The nurse left him alone in the hospital bed, after nearly dying. He turned his head and closed his eyes, lifting a hand to cover his face as he started to cry.

VTB Part 19

@percy-frayer because I know you are curious about Sonder story

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