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twinklelilstarkey · 4 years

Text

Bad Day - Nolan Patrick

Words: 2.2k+

Type: Fluff and slight Angst

Summary: You and Nolan are very different. Your bubbly personality is something that does contrast with his own. Yet he finds himself lost when that so happy person loses her spark after a hard and sad day.

Warnings: A lot of crying over college stuff (negative grades, overworking, etc.). Affectionate reader. Slight mentions of blood (from falling).

You and Nolan have been dating for almost 2 years, now. Some people do agree that your relationship was quite odd when it began, but those who are the closest noticed how much you two belonged together.

The surprise behind your relationship is mostly around the topic of how your personalities are nothing alike. You are this loud, bubbly, excited and happy human being, and you’re dating this silent, introverted, deep-voiced man. He, obviously, isn’t so silent when he’s with his friends or you only, but people still describe him as so.

Sure, you understand the shock but you two truly love each other. And that should be the only thing that matters, right?

You and Nolan aren’t exactly very active on social media. Yet you post more pictures of yourself than he does. And just by your feed, people seem to notice how different you two are.

Some people find it cute, while others not all that much. So you two try to limit as much posts with the two of you together as possible. And even though that comes with a lot of rumoring of you breaking up, you’re just, honestly, trying to minimalize the hateful words you usually receive.

But, yes, you two are very different.

You can notice that in how the two of you interact with each other. Nolan, being this more closed off person, doesn’t seek that much physical and affectional touch. Not as much as you, surely.

You hug him, cuddle him, snuggle onto him, kiss him, play with his hair, and so on. And you do that while battling his whines right in your ear of how he didn’t want to cuddle at that moment.

Bad thing for him, you look right through his shit. This man loves when you hug him, kiss him, play with his hair, etc.. He just doesn’t like to admit it.

Your affection doesn’t really leaves your apartment, since you two aren’t both two big fans of PDA. But, hand holding or hugging his arm close to you when it’s cold, is almost always happening when out of the house. Again, he doesn’t mind it at all.

And that’s literally how your relationship works - one whines and the other gives hugs.

Yesterday was a Sunday, and it went particularly well. It was Nolan’s day off, so he spent most of his day playing video games with his friends. You worked on an assignment while sitting next to him, and once when you were done, you sat in Nolan’s lap, ignored his protests - which lasted 10 seconds - and just fell asleep against his chest, completely exhausted with everything you’ve been doing for college.

You honestly thought this week wouldn’t be all that bad since it doesn’t all that much going on. Weekend was good, and that usually was enough to set the mood for the rest of the days.

But, you thought wrong. Very wrong.

You went to college around the same time Nolan went to practice, you had breakfast together and everything was good. But that was until your teachers started to announce that they already had the grades of some tests and assignments.

In two of your 3 classes, today, a teacher gave you a grade. Both of them negative grades.

The worst part? You thought these were the two evaluations that had gone well and seemed pretty easy when you did them.

If this is your results to the ‘easy’ ones, what about the ones that you, actually, struggled with?

After college, you walked back to your apartment, eyes already covered with tears over your failed evaluations, and right as you’re about to get home, you trip over your own feet.

Right when you looked down at Nolan’s text.

Even though nobody was in the street to see it, you felt more than humiliated. Your knee was now painted in dark red over the fresh wound, from your fall, and you were in pain.

This is just a whole recipe for disaster.

When you got home, Nolan was still not back. And that just helped you with wanting to break down more as you walked through lobby of your home.

It’s usual warmth welcomed you home but it did not provide any sort of comfort.

You went into your phone to try and distract your mind by scrolling through social media or looking at pictures with your friends and Nolan. But from not the lack of social media in these last few days, you let your eyes focus on old notifications popping up, comments, which are a few days old.

All of them negative.

From how you were using Nolan for his money or fame, to how unlucky he is to be dating someone like you. Insults were just scattered all throughout your feed.

As if your day could get any worse.

After half an hour of crying, you were able to force yourself into taking care of your nasty wound. Yes, there were some more tears and sobs here and there. But you feel more calm than before.

You ended up not texting Nolan since you were too preoccupied after your fall to remember anything. And he found it strange.

He had just texted you saying that practice was over when he got off the ice, and since then, he hasn’t received anything.

He kept on checking his phone. He checked it when he took his gear off, after he showered, when he got dressed, etc.. He kept on doing it, and still nothing.

And now, you are laying on your bed, in way more comfortable clothes, and under your comfortable and fluffy duvet and a blanket over your head. Your lap top is right next to your head and only your face isn’t shielded from any colder temperatures.

Tears would make their way back to you in between every few seconds while you force your mind to focus on a random video of reality show highlights. It’s like you can’t really control your body anymore.

Constantly reminding you of your failures as you keep on trying to focus on something else. But nothing. Nothing is working.

Over the loud background music and the dramatic screaming from your lap top, you don’t hear the front door of your apartment opening.

Nolan stands by the door, closing it behind him. He walks slowly to your living room, finding an empty couch. He checks the kitchen, still nothing. So he walks to your bedroom.

It’s awfully strange to not have you right around the corner to welcome him home. He had never noticed it before, but it had become apart of his routine already.

He opens the bedroom door slowly and his eyes finally find you. The slight creak of the door makes you look away from the screen and look up to find your boyfriend staring down at you.

To Nolan’s confusion, you didn’t do your usual ritual of when you spot him. You didn’t get up from your bed and gave him a kiss or a hug, you just continued to lay there.

Your eyes go back to the screen, fighting off your tears once more, and you hear Nolan start taking his shoes off.

He doesn’t say anything, filling the room in its natural silence, and walks to your side of the bed.

“Scoot over.” He whispers over the sound coming from your laptop.

You move your computer first, moving it to Nolan’s side of the bed, as you crawl to the middle. He slides under the duvet and blanket and you turn around, deciding to face him.

Nolan lays on his side, elbow on your pillow as he holds himself up and rests his face on his fist. His eyes are on you, studying your face, the way your eyes are slightly swollen and watery and how your lips seem to always curve in a small pout.

“What happened?” He whispers, not wanting to break the silence.

“Had a bad day.” You whisper back, blinking your tears away.

“Was it college?” He asks, you nod, “A test?”

You nod again and soon his face changes into a pitiful scowl. He feels bad for you, especially after yesterday, when you were so excited to finally have time for yourself. All of it ruined just because your grades are coming back to you as negatives.

“The other assignment I did, like, 2 weeks ago?” You ask him to see if he remembers, and he nods, “Failed that one too.”

Your voice is broken, your chin is starting to shake. You’re a blink away from breaking down again and Nolan feels so helpless. He wishes he could help you with college, but his knowledge in whatever degree you’re dating is close to nothing.

“-And I fell outside, too.” You break his train of thought.

A dry chuckle escapes your lips as you bring your hands up to wipe away your tears, as if you’re forcing yourself to laugh at your problems.

“On the way home?”

You nod and wipe your tears again, soaking the ends of your sleeves.

“My day has just been so awful.” Your voice breaks, making Nolan’s chest squeeze in pain at the sound of it alone.

Without knowing what to say, Nolan wraps one of his arms around you and pulls you in closer. The feeling that comes with not having you hug him back right away is strange. It almost makes him feel heartbroken.

As your face rests over Nolan’s shirt, it’s like your body just gives it all out. You start crying again, sobbing as you let all your worries out, mumbling some stuff you’re not even sure what they mean. And Nolan just holds you close, resting his head against yours while laying kisses over your cheek, neck or over your hair.

It’s so hard to see you like this. It has happened before, it has, but it’s never this bad. Which doesn’t make it that easy to deal with.

Your sobs stop after some time, your breathing slows down back to normal and your body stops to shake. Nolan still holds you, comfortably smoothing your back with one of his hands over your sweatshirt.

You, finally, wrap one of your arms around his torso and just rest your body against his a little, while in complete silence.

“When’s your next test?” Nolan asks against the skin of your temple.

“In 4 weeks.” You answer.

“Any assignments between today and that test?” He asks and you shake your head, “Okay, so you have more than enough time to get prepared and do amazing on that test.”

A sudden warm, giddy feeling runs through you at his words, yet you only nod at what he says.

“I wish I could help you study, but I’m clueless with half of the words in your notes.” He jokes and your lips curve into a grin, “I can always be your reminder to go back to studying?”

“You’re going on a roadie next week.”

He shrugs.

“I can still call.”

You smile and lean your face back onto his chest.

“What about that fall? Are you okay?” He asks, lifting his head again to take a look at your face.

“I’m okay, now, yeah. It was just really embarrassing,” You answer back.

There’s a quick silence and you lift your chin to stare up at Nolan.

“Did something else happen?” He asks, just to make sure.

You do a quick shrug.

“No- I mean,” You correct yourself, “I did check my Instagram after getting home...”

“And... what happened?”

“Just- The usual stupid comments.” You whisper at him.

He analyzes your face for a few seconds and brings his hand up, wiping with his thumb the rest of the tears under your eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have looked at them,” You scold yourself, “But I didn’t exactly do it on purpose. They were just... there, when I wanted to look back at some pictures.”

Nolan nods understandingly and rests his hand against your cheek, cupping it as his thumb caresses your skin continuously.

“What type of pictures?”

“Like, with our friends or just the two of us,” You shrug, again, “I was just looking for something to cheer me up, you know?”

He nods at you and a small grin lifts over your lips.

He doesn’t scold you in any way. Doesn’t judge you for being stuck in the middle of the hateful comments that don’t do nothing but bring others down. He sometimes finds himself in those black holes without even realizing, and when they do bring him down, you’re there for him to remind him who he really is. Not letting the comments get to him. He can’t do anything else but the same. Return the favor.

“Do you feel better now?” He says at a low voice, almost in a whisper.

“A bit, yeah.” You nod, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He answers.

In the comfortable silence and under his smoothing and loving touch, you prop yourself up with one arm, so your face is in front of Nolan’s, and you peck his lips. It’s a quick kiss, but one that makes you grin back at him.

“I love you.” You tell him.

“I love you too.”

You kiss again but this time, he holds the back of your neck, pulling you in closer to him, making the kiss longer and letting it actually evolve into something more than a peck.

You kiss him back as his lips start to move against yours and your, only vacant, hand find its way to his side, almost as if pulling him in closer to you, even though you’re already glued together.

Nolan pulls back and looks back at you for a second.

“Want to go get lunch and then watch a movie?” He asks and your smile finds itself back on your face.

“I would love that.”

Is this good? I wrote it in between classes, while bored, so I hope it’s not too awful.

*First time writing for Nolan... I just had to do it, okay?*

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hieludoboi · 4 years

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In Our Next Life

A/n- I really should be writing my Daichi series but I got the idea to write this after reading the most recent chapter of BNHA

A/n- Damn, this is kinda a little bit of word vomit, but like that’s okay :’)

Pairing- Dabi/Fem!Reader

Summary-If not in this life, then the next, right?

Warnings- Abuse, Major Character Death, Endeavor, a little bid of blood? pretty violent, fighting and war, SPOILERS FOR MY HERO ACADEMIA CHAPTER 290

Y/n hated hero society. That much she knew. She often wondered how life was before quirks came to be. As a little girl, she would sit between her grandmother’s legs, mouth open in awe as stories of a time not her own were recounted to her, becoming reality on the tongue of her dreams. She wished she had been born in those times. No quirk, no corruption, no child soldiers… Y/n would often sit and wonder if maybe life could have been different in those times. Maybe her mother would have cared, would have loved her, and nurtured her instead of forcing her to grow her quirk until she became an unrecognizable monster when she looked in the mirror.

“We’ll prove ‘em wrong. Right, Touya?” Y/n mumbled to herself, her fingers clutching onto the small wooden frame that sat on her nightstand. She would become the hero her mother never could and avenge Touya. She would do anything for him.

———————————————

“Momma! Momma, I can’t!” Y/n screamed, face twisted in agony as the scarlet flames scorched at her face and skin, charring the flesh that was desperately trying to regenerate. Her hands fisted as much as they could into loose concrete, her delicate nails splintering against grey floors of stone and splattering them cherry red. She could barely see, the world around her blanketed in white except for his warm puddles of eyes.

Touya was being restrained by Y/n’s mother, his legs kicking and thrashing about as he tried to claw his way out of the woman’s vice-like grip. Touya’s wailing and Y/n’s guttural screams joined each other’s in harmony, producing an ugly duet. It was dissonant, clashing against each other as it got swept up in swarming summer winds. Y/n wondered if this was what hell felt like. A never-ending inferno of red’s and oranges, mocking a pretty sunset with its demonic hues. She wondered if Touya’s sobs would play on repeat in her head for the rest of her life…

“Stop! Enji! Stop!” Y/n had got lost amongst the wires of time, not realizing that Fuyumi had run to get Rei in the disarray of chaos that they had trapped her in. And suddenly the flames had stopped, and Rei was kneeling beside her, letting frost roam over the charred body of the ten-year-old girl before her. A head of white was all she could see for a moment, and then Touya’s graying head popped up from behind his mother’s shoulder, begging to be let closer.

Brown and blue, those hues brought so much comfort to her.Rei wiped her eyes, gently cradling Y/n and Touya’s bodies against her chest, enveloping them in a sheet of frost and comfort. It took a moment, but Y/n’s quirk eventually kicked in on its own, regenerating skin cells and tissue, restoring lost hair and patches of skin. At that point, Y/n knew that hell was Enji Todoroki.

————————————

“I’m sorry. He’s gone…” Fuyumi and Natsuo were the ones to give her the news. First, Rei was taken away, then Touya? God, Y/n was having the worst year of her life. She should have cried, she wanted to, and though her face contorted and her body heaved and shook with sobs, tears never fell. Tear ducts. They were the one thing that she could never regenerate.

Natsuo had held her as she sobbed into his shoulder, Fuyumi somewhere in the kitchen preparing a meal for them. Though they loved their brother dearly, they knew that Y/n and Touya’s connection went beyond theirs. They shared pain, abuse, and trauma that no one in their home could ever begin to comprehend.

“Please. Please take care of Shouto. He’ll do the same thing to him, and-” Y/n could feel the bile rising in her throat, burning her esophagus as she ran to the restroom. Her mother had died long ago in battle, and though she was free from their clutches, even though she was now alone to do what she pleased, the cinders of dully lit embers still prickled her skin. No amount of regeneration could get rid of the subtle scars that sat atop her skin, the burns from both Enji's and Touya’s flames being too much for her body to ever begin to handle.

—————————————-

Being a hero should have been the last thing she wanted to be, but here she was, hero suit and all, sat in a plush and comfy chair as she explained the basics of her quirk to the man who had been interviewing her. After all these years, she was sitting at Endeavor’s office, applying to work under his agency. Ironic, right?

“And this quirk is called Regen, right?” Y/n looked up from where her eyes had been focused on the subtle burn scars that still sat on her skin.

“Right. It allows me to manipulate blood flow, organs, etcetera, etcetera. If the human body makes it, or if it’s part of the human body, I can manipulate it. To activate it, I need to get at least four beats of a person’s pulse. Once I do that, I can manipulate their blood flow and organs. So I can either use them as puppets, or shut down their organs, but mostly I just restrict oxygen and blood flow enough to knock them out. I had to work really hard to be able to get it to do that, but my area of specialty is regeneration. I can do it to my body or someone else’s,” Y/n explained, a fake and yet oddly pleasant smile on her face.

“Any weaknesses or limitations?” The interviewer asked, nose buried in his notebook as he jotted down little notes.

“Well, my quirk subtly wastes away the inside of my body. I won’t age on the outside, but my insides age with every minute that I use this quirk. So I’m a little frail, but it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Injuries by fire or heat also seem to be the one thing I can never fully heal. Oh and I think it’s worth mentioning that I can never fully heal ailments in one sitting. I can do the heavy work, or begin the process of healing bigger injuries, but if I try and heal all ailments and injuries at once, it will kill me.” Y/n explained, motioning to the subtle burns all across her body.The interviewer nodded, jotting down a note or two. Before she knew it, she was stepping out of his office, stumbling into an all too familiar, broad chest.

Quickly, she shoved the man away, her body beginning to tremble as the soles of her feet planted themselves firmly onto the carpeted ground, forcing her to face her hell. Looking up, she stared into cold, blue eyes. They weren’t warm; they weren’t comforting. They weren’t Touya.

“Ah, Y/n. It’s nice to see you here…” Enji’s voice was stiff, strained, and very obviously uncomfortable. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the massive scar that was etched across one side of his face. He seemed different. Not just in appearance, but something within him had changed.

Enji cleared his throat, reaching his hand out to shake Y/n’s hand. And before she could stop herself, she flinched. Not just a little flinch, but a jump. Her eyes were wide and torn with fear, her body curling into itself as a small shriek threatened to jump from the confines of her throat. The burns across her body seemed to sear all over again, and she could faintly catch a whiff of charred flesh. Enji stopped in his tracks, retracting his hand and instead shoving them into his pockets.

“Uhm, what brings you here?” Enji asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. Y/n took a deep breath, straightening out the wrinkles in her suit before forcing herself to meet Enji’s guilty gaze. Why was she here? She could have gone with the brutally honest and therapeutic reason. She could be here to face her abuser and find some sort of closure, maybe even become number one while at his agency and drive him insane, do something to avenge Touya, or.

“Well, I figured since I already know you and you were sort of my mentor, what better place to apply than here, right?” Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, her nails digging tiny crescents into the palms of her hands behind her back. She sounded so unsure, so pitiful and… Scared.

“Right, well, I’ll be sure to approve your application then. Uhm, I’ll see you around,” Y/n nodded, watching as Enji walked off, leaving her to stare at his back. Had she made the right decision? Lord, she hoped so.

——————————

“Y/n?” Y/n spun around, the confused look on her face dropping as soon as she made eye contact with Shouto. The boy hadn’t changed much since she had last seen him. Yet, he looked so, disappointed? Disillusioned?

“Shou! I didn’t think you’d be interning here!” Y/n exclaimed, scarred hands clutching onto loads of paperwork. Shouto frowned, taking a step towards her and gently touching the faint scars on her hands with delicate fingertips. Y/n took in a breath, not realizing she had been holding it until Shouto pulled away.

“I didn’t think you’d be working here, Nee-chan…” Y/n gasped, the oxygen getting stuck in her throat. It had been years since Shouto had called her his Ne-chan. Had she failed him?

“Shouto…” Y/n trailed off, sad eyes averting from the first year’s fierce gaze.

“We’re having dinner tonight, a few friends of mine are going. Fuyumi and Natsuo wouldn’t mind seeing you,” Shouto mumbled before walking away, leaving Y/n to stare once again at someone’s back. Had she made the wrong choice?

———————————————

Y/n had spent way too much time getting ready for this family dinner situation. This would be the first time in years that should be setting foot into the Todoroki household. She never realized just how much fear it could bring her. But this time would be different, she told herself as she pulled on a yellow knitted sweater. Natsuo would be there, and so would Fuyumi and Shouto. They would be eating dinner, not training.And so with a deep breath, Y/n forced herself to walk outside and drive herself to the Todoroki residence. Things were different now. She was grown, a pro hero climbing the ranks at a rapid pace. She had to be over it at this point, right?

She should have known. Standing at the front door felt more daunting than it was. Her body seemed to tremble with each breath she took. All she could see was fire, all she could hear were screams, and all she could feel was the stinging feel of flames against her already marred flesh. This was her hell.She was half expecting Rei to open the door when she knocked. And sure enough, she was met by a pair of warm brown eyes and a head of white hair. Natsuo. Y/n could feel her body stiffen, turning to stone against her will. She had severely overestimated herself.

Dinner was anything but smooth. Fuyumi was trying, lord was she trying. It was a tense night, with Y/n sitting between Fuyumi and Natsuo, a comforting hand wrapped around her unsteady hand beneath the table. Fuyumi had always been very kind to her.

“So how’d you do it?” Fuyumi and Y/n looked up, their eyes focusing on Natsuo, who was spitting venom at Enji. Natsuo looked like a cobra, hood raised, and ready to strike. Enji stared at Natsuo with a confused look, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. “How’d you manage to get Y/n into your agency? She hates you and everything about you, so how’d you do it?” Natsuo spat, brown eyes turning into pits of coal as he stared Enji down. Y/n felt herself grow cold, the pair of chopsticks damn near breaking in her iron tight grip.

“What’s he talking about?” Y/n looked up, her e/c eyes following each and every one of Bakugo, Midoriya’s, and Shouto’s movements as he explained what he could remember to them.

“Natsuo…” Fuyumi trailed off, a soft voice of warning between the two heated males. Y/n sighed through her nose before letting go of Fuyumi’s hand.

“It makes no sense. He’s the reason for all her burns. They were so severe that she couldn’t even regenerate the skin back to normal! Her tear ducts are gone and her lungs will never be the same from all the smoke she’s had to inhale! It makes no sense, Fuyumi!” Natsuo yelled, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Natsuo, I joined on my own. No one forced me. I had my reasons.” Y/n stated, looking away from Natsuo’s hurt eyes. Maybe she had made the wrong choice.

“He’s the reason Touya’s dead! How could you work with him!?” Y/n flinched, her body becoming a statue, the chopsticks falling from her hands and clanging against the glass plate beneath her.

“Natsuo!” Fuyumi yelled, eyes widening as Y/n abruptly stood up. She looked sickly, a pale and grey undertone taking quite the liking to her face. The entire table watched as she stumbled to the front door, struggling to pull on her shoes.

She left before anyone could say goodbye, shoving her body into the car that almost felt too small for her, yet she couldn’t leave. It felt like something was tying her to the house, and she hated it. Taking a deep breath, she opened her car door, relishing in the way the crisp air filled her damaged lungs. It wouldn’t hurt to go back, right?

Stepping out of the car, she ambled towards the courtyard, her eyes darting from area to area. It wasn’t all bad. She had made some good memories with Touya there. Like the time Enji wasn’t able to take his usual Sunday’s off to torment Touya and her. She and Touya had played hide and seek with Fuyumi in the courtyard for what felt like hours, playful grins adorning their round faces as they stumbled around the pillars and grass. Y/n and Touya were six at that time.

Finally, Y/n was standing in the middle of the courtyard, staring at the stone floors that had shattered her fingernails so many times. Wincing, Y/n brought her fingers to her lips, chewing on the tips of her nails and tasting the familiar metallic twang of blood on her tongue. When she pulled her fingers away, they were fine. There was no blood, no splintering, nothing.It took longer than she expected, wandering around the area and remembering key details of her life with every corner she walked into. And then she fell, tripping over a stray water bottle and landing hands first into the center of the courtyard, her eyes focusing in on the giant cherry tree just on the other side of the stone floor.

“We’ll be the best heroes! You can control the enemy like puppets! And I’ll scare them with my fire!” Touya declared, bright blue eyes sparkling with stars plucked from the heavens. Y/n nodded, a determined smile on her face. They were sat on the floor, their bodies bruised and sore from the sparring they had been forced to do earlier. Her s/c hands cupped Touya’s face, working hard to clear the bruises along his eyes and cheeks. “And I’ll never have to worry about getting hurt when I’m with you! Ever!” Touya said a closed-eyed grin on his face. They would never have to worry as long as they had each other. “Thank you, oh, and here!” Touya pulled away from Y/n as soon as she put her hands in her lap, quickly scurrying over to the cherry tree behind him to pluck a sakura that had fallen to the ground.

“Momma says that sakuras mean new beginnings or something like that! I just think they’re pretty! You’re pretty too. Hey! Maybe your hero name could be Sakura! Because you’re pretty, and you can heal people, and people can start again when they heal!” Touya exclaimed, stumbling over his words as he focused on tucking the Sakura behind her ear so the flower stuck out a bit. Y/n giggled, nodding at his suggestion. She would do anything Touya asked.

She hadn’t even noticed she was sobbing until she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her body. And for a split second, she thought the feeling of raindrops running down the apples of her cheeks were tears. When had it started to rain?

“Let’s go inside, yeah? Dad and the kids went to go help Natsuo. He left a little bit ago.” Fuyumi explained, helping Y/n stand from the cold concrete floor. Y/n sniffled, nodding her head. And as they made their way into the living room, Y/n finally felt a little at peace. She was grown now, a pro hero who could finally fight for herself. For the first time since she had walked into that courtyard, she left without any scars, any fears. She walked in on her own, did what she wanted, and left. Maybe, just maybe, that courtyard couldn’t control her any longer.

———————————

Y/n hated hero society. She knew that now more than ever. Here she was, fighting a war alongside child soldiers who were too young to be risking their lives for some ‘glory filled’ death. She was tired, so, so tired. Her muscles felt like they were wasting away with each breath she took. Her arms and hands were sore from being stretched out for so long. She was past her limit, controlling up to five villains with one hand, working her hardest to help heal five other heroes as they constantly hurt themselves with her other hands.

“Renge! You’re needed upfront, we’ll handle things here!” Y/n looked around, wondering exactly who had given her the command but couldn’t find the person to who the voice belonged too. She could only see the confident faces of her peers as she one by one let her enemies and allies go. Shouto was up front, so were his friends. Y/n took a deep breath. They weren’t too far from the front lines, and she was lucky enough to have been given a lift by some winged hero. She took her time in the air to heal herself, just a bit. She was going to die in the battle, that much she knew. She might as well die looking good, right?

“Come dance with your son in hell!!” Nothing. Nothing could have prepared her for the voice that rung through her ears, piercing her brain and heart in just one second. It had been ages since she had heard that voice. But he was dead. Stumbling as she jumped off of the other pro hero, she slowly walked to stand beside Shouto. And sure enough, there he was. His face was maimed, held together by staples and purple flesh, blue eyes resembling the marina trenches, his lips twisted in some crazed grin. It couldn’t be. Someone had to be posing as him. Touya was dead, he had been dead for years. Touya wouldn’t be a murderer, this wasn’t Touya. Y/n bit down on her lip, wincing as she tasted the blood that began to trickle down into her mouth. She was a hero now, and her priority was to help her comrades, not reminisce or let her past emotions get into the way. Even if it was Touya, it wasn’t the Touya she knew.

Y/n didn’t allow herself to think, her vision going spotty and body going hot as her hands stretched in front of her. She had felt his pulse enough times, and if it was him, he would bend to her will. But still, she hoped that his body would move on its own, she hoped that he wouldn’t succumb to her quirk. She hoped it was someone else.

Dabi felt himself going insane as he stared down his father and brother. He had wanted this for years, and now, here they were. Enji could finally pay for what he had done. Amongst the chaos, he failed to notice the way his body went rigid, a familiar cold grip wrapping around his veins. Where had he felt this before?

Dabi gritted his teeth, straining against the non-existent wires coiling around his veins, restricting his movements, and using him as a puppet. Vague memories of a childhood lost to trauma encircled his mind, and his vision seemed to be going spotty. But it couldn’t be. Not her, not Y/n. Dabi grunted, his knees hitting the ground as he turned to stare to the right. Sure enough, there she was, her costume ripped, her face bruised and bloody, her muscles wasting away behind the latex that wrapped around her body.

Her eyes were wild, seemingly blank as she focused in on his body. He had only seen that fear cross her gaze when she looked at his father, so why was she looking at him like that? Yet still, he found himself walking towards her slowly slumping figure. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear the sobs that left her lips. She hadn’t changed, her skin just as scarred, her eyes just as empty and fearful. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt him, and he knew it.

Grinning to himself, Dabi chuckled, catching her gaze and watching as she tried to remain indifferent.

“Your cries give you away, doll,” Dabi chuckled, the sound raspy and cold. Y/n flinched before closing her eyes and attempting to steady herself. “I missed you, y’know?” Dabi took a step towards her, blinking in surprise when he realized she wasn’t using her quirk on him. “I know all your weaknesses, I know the ins and outs of your quirk, and you’re letting me go?” Dabi mused, his burnt hand coming up to cup the side of her face. Y/n felt the sob rip painfully from her chest as she leaned into the touch, bringing up her maimed hand to clasp onto his.

“He really did a number on you, huh, Y/n?” Dabi said softly, his gaze becoming tender for just a moment before returning to its piercing and frosted state. Y/n nodded her head, letting her body fall against his chest, wrapping her arms around his disfigured body. Dabi grunted, eyes wide in shock, his knees buckling beneath him. They fell onto the rubble beneath their feet, knees bruising against crumbled buildings and twisted metal poles.

“You’re alive…” Y/n choked the words out through her sobs. Her hands gripping onto his shoulders, not willing to let him go. She couldn’t lose him, not now that he had finally come back. Dabi stiffened, his arms slowly wrapping around her shaking form. They sat like that for a moment, trembling against one another, against the mess of the surrounding city.

Finally, Y/n pulled away, her unsteady hands cupping Dabi’s face, her worried eyes studying his face and twisting in heartbreak. Why was she looking at him like that?

Y/n pushed Dabi away, her chest violently rising and falling, her breaths feeling like hornet stings inside her lungs and throat. His eyes were no longer warm, they were void of emotion; they were filled with hunger, a hunger she hadn’t seen in years. This wasn’t Touya. Y/n took shaky breaths. Her eyes screwed shut as she tried to convince herself that the man in front of her wasn’t the boy she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Dabi felt his breath catch in his throat, his hand extending towards her before falling to his side. Why was she scared? She knew it was him, right?

“Y/n, it’s me. It’s Touya…” Dabi croaked, his eyes filling with pain as he crawled towards her. Y/n shook her head vigorously, shuffling back anytime he tried to come close to her.

“Stop it. You’re not Touya!” Y/n flinched at the scream that tore through her lips, not expecting the words to fly from her chest in the way they did. “T-Touya wanted to be a hero! Touya wanted to save people. He loved his baby brother, Touya, Touya wasn’t some sort of monster!” Y/n spat, the venom dripping from her words and splattering against Dabi’s eardrums.

“I did what I had to do!” Dabi yelled back, his eyes wide and filled with hurt. How could she say that about him? “I was willing to do whatever it took to show the world what he had done to me- to us!” Dabi explained, his voice wavering as he knelt among jutting pieces of cement and debris.

Y/n let her back rest against a random piece of wall, her chest heaving as her lungs struggled to obtain air. She had overworked herself. Her lungs were practically disintegrating. She was tired, and her body could no longer move. On the inside, she had the organs of a ninety-year-old. This was it for her, and she knew it. But at least she got some closure, right? Through her lidded eyes, she watched as Dabi rushed towards her, blue eyes filled with worry, and maybe even warmth.

“Hey, hey! No! You can’t go on and give up! You have to beat that bastard at his own game, remember? Become number one, drive him insane!” Dabi explained as he scooped up her limp body in his arms. Y/n blinked, her eyes cold and slowly dimming.

“We. We were supposed to do that…” Y/n whispered, her hand weakly reaching up to try and hold his face before meekly falling onto his chest. Dabi took an unsteady breath, taking hold of her cold hand and pressing it to his cheek. “I hope, that in our next lives, we’re able to live the life we always wanted…” Y/n mumbled, her fingers finding purchase on his pulse. Dabi blinked, eyes going wide as soon as he realized what she was doing.

“Stop it- stop! You’re going to die!” Dabi yelled, his voice cracking as she restricted his movements with her quirk.“I was going to die anyway. I knew this would be my final battle, Dabi, so let me die looking at the Touya I knew, and not you.” Y/n mumbled. Dabi could feel the way his sobs racked his body. Her face and body beginning to grow pale, her eyes tired and almost dead as she poured what was left of her into his recovery.

A weak smile grew on Y/n’s face as she watched the burns on his body begin to heal, the staples falling off one by one as his skin slowly began to go back to normal. The flesh beneath her fingers grew soft, the color returning to its pale and rosy state.

“Could you imagine how different our lives could be?” Y/n whispered, a sad smile on her face as she watched the patches beneath Dabi’s eyes disappear. “Sakura and Touya, pro heroes, working side by side… Y’know, I never felt like I could take that hero name. I settled with Renge. Sakuras symbolize starting anew, remember? I never felt like I could start again. I felt, that after Touya died, I had to grow through mud,” Y/n explained, her chest rattling with stinging wheezes, her face growing gaunt and grey.

Dabi took a shuddering breath, his hand gripping onto Y/n’s free hand, nodding along to the words that weakly slipped from her lips, getting lost in the chaos around their bodies.

“I’m right here, Y/n. Touya’s here…” Dabi sobbed, pulling her body closer to his, willing her to see him for who he was, for who she knew him to be. Y/n shook her head, the hurt in her eyes eminent despite the way they shrouded with death.

“You only look like Touya,” Y/n murmured, flinching as droplets began to fall onto her cheeks. She looked up at him with a feeble gaze, watching as the tears collected in Dabi’s eyes before dripping down his face. Frowning, Y/n attempted to brush away his tears with her thinning hand. Dabi sniffled, looking down at her body as it wasted away in his arms. His eyes held yearning, an agony that only they knew existed. And for a moment, they even seemed tender as he stared down at her. For a moment, Touya was there.

“In our next life, Touya…” Y/n rasped, her hand falling to her side, her eyes dimming until there was nothing left. Touya could feel the way his body broke down, the agonizing screams ripping past the confines of his throat and getting lost in the battle behind them. He could feel the tears rushing down his cheeks, dripping down his chin and filling the dips in her now scrawny face. Her chest shuddered one last time, her final breath raking past her lungs and dissipating into the wind.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, curled around her body. She was thin, pale and so, so utterly broken. Touya couldn’t help but wonder how they had gotten to this point, what their life could have been like if he had just gone to her, looked for her. In his quest to destroy his father, he had lost sight of himself, and ultimately let his ambitions get the best of him.

Touya took a deep breath, harshly wiping the tears off of his face. He gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze, gently laying her body amongst the mounds of rubble where someone was sure to find her. He could only hope that they would meet again.

“In our next life, Y/n…”

#bnha dabi #mha dabi #touya todoroki #bnha touya #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #bnha imagines #bnha oneshots #bnha x you #mha imagines #mha oneshot #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #dabi angst

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bakugoulovesme · 4 years

Text

Bakugou x Reader

Title: Long Story Short

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, various pro heroes (mentioned), original character (who is not the reader)

Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: mentions of toxic ex, passing out, hospital visits (dw it’s all good), gross fluff

Summary: You had a terrible breakup that made you stop hero work. Now, three years later, you are dating Bakugou Katsuki and you jump back in the saddle.

A/N: Pro hero au! Lmao guys be nice I haven’t written a full fic since 2018.. oof... request headcanons pleeeaaaseee <3 (OOOH OOOH also this is the first of a very tentative series of stories based on Taylor Swift’s albums Evermore and Folklore,, AND this was crossposted on ao3)

You told yourself never again on a night much like this one, three years ago. You remember it all very distinctly. Nyx had already promised you a change of pace, somewhere as far away from him as you could get. They were standing behind you on the rooftop, a good few paces back. It was considerate, really: giving you space so that you could have your moment of dramatic catharsis. You remember bouncing on your toes once before sparring a glance over your shoulder at them. The blank motorcycle helmet that was a staple of their hero costume stared back at you, emotionless. They offered you a single nod. You turned forward again, facing the wind. You turned the ring over and over in your hand for a few more minutes, longer than you wanted to. It seemed cliché to you even then, when the wound was still so fresh, to get rid of the ring in such an over the top way. But damn, if it didn’t feel absolutely amazing.

And tonight you are standing atop the roof of that twenty-story building again. And Nyx, lovely Nyx, is standing behind you with their expressionless motorcycle helmet boring into your soul and their harrowing silent wisdom making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’m not so sure that I’m ready,” you say after a beat. Your hero costume feels strikingly familiar and foreign all that at the same time. You play with the waistband of the jumpsuit absentmindedly.

“I am,” they say as if it is the easiest thing in the world. Don’t they know how hard this is? Shouldn’t they of all people understand? “And he is, too.”

They got you. They always do.

You heave a sigh—no turning back now. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you can do this, that you are in fact a capable hero. Three years. You haven’t done this in three years.

Fuck. Can you do this? What if…

“I know what you're thinking,” Nyx says, allowing emotion to seep into their tone for the first time tonight. “And, I hate to break it to you, but… you are already doing it.”

“This is barely a patrol,” you grumble.

“Not a traditional one, no, but remember you’re still in your trial period. You are technically only my sidekick right now.” You don’t need to see the expression Nyx is wearing to be certain that they are smiling.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

The universe does not leave you much time to wallow in self-pity. Less than half an hour later, there’s a call. A building is collapsing. The number four hero, Edgeshot, has already taken care of the villain responsible, so it is time for clean-up duty: your specialty. All in a matter of thirty seconds, you shove your helmet onto your head (it matches the one Nyx sports; all of their sidekicks wear them) and run to grab onto Nyx as they teleport you to the scene. Gone is the gentle night air; here, everything is hot. The villain must be using some quirk-enhancing drug. (The damage they caused in their dragon form puts Ryukyu to shame.) Several voices chatter into your ears at once filling you and Nyx in. Nyx was gone the second they dropped you off, working as fast as they could to teleport people out of the upper floors of the building.

Adrenaline pushes you forward but you are stopped quickly, debris already blocking your path into the ground level of the building. Luck must be on your side tonight because you can see the number two hero, Hawks, fly in as he uses his feathers to aid in the evacuation. You feel comfortable enough to ask Nyx through the helmet to get you inside. And they do. You could not imagine how disorienting it must be for them because, after just your second leap of the night, you are incapacitated for at least fifteen seconds.

When the world rights itself again, you realize you have already put your shield up to protect yourself from the smoke. It does not take long to find the group of survivors to the left of you, trying—and failing—to break out of a crumbled window. You see eighteen at first glance, but as you approach, you can see a group of children, four of them all huddled together. Twenty-two, then. You drop your shield as you approach them. “Help is here,” you inform them, attempting to keep your sentences short so your helmet will translate them faster.

“Now, everyone remain calm. Everything will be okay.” Any doubts you had earlier have been seared away. You are met with thankful sobs and incoherent clambering. You direct them to stand around you, as close as they can fit. The children are lifted into their parent’s arms as everyone scrambles forward. As soon as all twenty-two are comfortably within range, you activate your quirk again. One of the children lets out an awed gasp at the buzzing bubble of blue energy that has formed.

You find yourself smiling.

“What do we do now?” An older woman asks incredulously, her entire body shaking in fear.

“We wait.” She opens her mouth to retort, but you continue. “Once the upper floors of the building and the surrounding block are completely evacuated, I will get us out of here.”

“Are you sure you can do it, Miss Hero?” A little girl asks. “My Daddy says heroes can’t really do anything...”

Her father has the decency to look horrified, but you just laugh. You crouch down to make eye contact with her, “I’m very sure I can do it. Do you wanna know why?”

She leans away from her father slightly, turning towards you with her eyes full of stars. It takes you a second to reply as you get the go-ahead that everything is clear. Perfect.

“Because… you are going to help me, of course!” You exclaim, removing your helmet. This forces you to use the translator that you wear around your neck which is not as loud (or clear), but you think it’s a good trade-off. The adults (and the other children) who were momentarily distracted hearing you speak to the little girl will need the comfort of a human face for the next part, this much you are sure. You gesture for the girl to be put down and you take her hand in one of your glowing ones. A little boy wriggles out of his mother’s grasp and grabs your other hand. You beam.

“Now you two have a very important job: you have to keep everyone brave!”

“How we s’posed to do dat?” The boy asks.

“Simple. You will walk with me in the front, okay? We can even sing a little song so everyone knows to keep walking,” you explain with a smile, more genuinely happy than is probably appropriate. The other children wrestle themselves out of their parent’s arms and grab their hands fiercely, ready to help drag them along. The pair holding your hands only take a minute to consider before nodding solemnly.

The boy leads the little marching tune as you calmly begin leading everyone towards the front of the building. It’s at the moment that your shield touches the front wall that the building comes down. Hard.

So much for raining small chunks, the full weight of the building crashes down around you. It makes you lightheaded, but you force yourself not to show any distress. You just keep walking, hunks of the building being forced out around the bubble. Suddenly though, something smacks into your shield from the inside and you lurch forward. Your eyes screw shut as you focus completely on regaining control.

“Daddy!” The little girl yells as she pushes past the group to reach her father, still frozen in shock against the farthest side of the bubble. You didn’t even feel her drop your hand... Before you can contemplate the fate of your other small charge. The boy squeezes your hand tight. You turn to look at him and smile. One hand grips yours and the other grips a younger girl, his sister you presume, who is latched onto their mother, as well.

You are more out of it than you realize because in no time at all, the girl is back holding your hand, dragging her father behind her. He looks sickly pale. Deep breath. “Everything’s okay. Almost over. Everyone please just keep being brave for me,” you say, squeezing the kids’ hands.

You close your eyes again and put everything you have into walking normally. Pushing. Pushing. It feels like you let the smoke in; there doesn’t seem to be enough air for you. You can’t remember feeling this tired, at least not in a long time. Just as you reach your limit—when you are certain you are going to fail to leave all these people to get tragically smushed—there is loud cheering. Huh?

You force your eyes open. Floodlights. People. Ambulances. Reporters descending upon the lot of you, now that the danger has passed. You can finally breathe. You drop the shield and fall to your knees.

Hmm. The ground is warm, and a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. Your last thought before you blackout completely is a barely coherent image of cats rolling around on the warm concrete.

All you can hear is his voice.

For a second, the sound tricks you. You must be in your bed, at home. The heart monitor comes in second. A wave of nausea hits you as the disorientation sets in. You try to open your eyes but decide against it immediately. You don’t think your eyelids so much as fluttered, how could they when they weigh a thousand pounds each?

His voice is what grounds you again, makes you feel more centered. You think you might even be able to tell which way is up. You can hear him but you can’t hear him. Your brain is much too full of mush at the moment to hear anything with clarity. Everything feels sloshy; even still you attempt to move your hand towards the sound of his voice. As soon as you begin moving, his hands have met yours and his voice is softer. You still can’t hear him but you can feel him. His hands, as always, are hot and sweaty. You had always thought your hands were the hottest and the sweatiest, that is until you met Bakugou.

“Ka-” you try to speak but your voice is much too hoarse from disuse.

“Teddy bear,” you can finally hear him, “are you okay?”

You rumble in agreement and make a great effort to move your head in a gentle nod. He makes you regret agreeing all within a second. Now he is yelling and your eyes are all but forced open at the sound of it.

“Katsuki,” you groan.

“What the fuck were you thinking running into a collapsing building, dumbass? You’re still just a fucking sidekick.”

You huff feeling a little more like yourself the longer you hear him talk. “That’s just a technicality.”

“Regardless, I…” Katsuki lets out a deep growl, “you fucking scared me, teddy bear.”

“I’m sorry, Katsu” is all you can think to say as he cups your cheek and leans forward to rest his forehead against your own. You revel in the closeness, even the skin of his forehead is hot against you.

“I hope you know you aren’t off the hook, idiot, but I am really proud of you,” the glare he fixes you with doesn’t match his words.

You can’t stop yourself from beaming.

“So, how much time before you get back to being that dumbass’s sidekick?” He asks as he spares a glance from the road to look at you leaned up against the window in the passenger's seat.

“I should be good to go by Monday, believe it or not.”

The look he gives you tells you he doesn’t.

“I’ll call the doctor if you want,” you insist. You ignore the rush of nausea that hits you as you sit up and give him an indignant look.

He rolls his eyes. He takes a hand off the wheel to push you gently back so you’re resting against the window again. You sigh in relief at the feeling of the cool glass on your cheek. You can see him worry his lip a bit before he bites out, “I believe you.”

“Hmm I don’t know about that,” you start, “but, I meant it when I said me being a sidekick is just a technicality. I was a big hero before I ever came to Japan and met you.”

He huffs. Regardless, he nods his head in agreement. He does know that you were a big hero. An annoyingly selfless one too, that’s what got you hurt in the first place. He doesn’t say anything more though, he’s happy enough to let you fall asleep with the words to some stupid song on your lips. Even if he wasn’t driving he would be wide awake. Seeing you fall to the ground like that made him sick.

He shudders. He really thought he was ready for you to start hero work again, but… Seeing you like that was a lot to handle. Almost too much. He knows it’s hard for you too. You’ve had to watch him throw himself into danger countless times at this point. He hasn’t figured out how you handle the stress with such grace. He can practically see the look you would give him if he said that to you, he can practically hear your voice assuring him that the way you handle it is anything but graceful. Why is he imagining this conversation? He could be having it with you. It’s not like you’re dead or--

“Katsu, you’re going to get wrinkles if all you do is frown all the time. You’ll look like my Grampy,” you laugh as his frown deepens, “Really, babe, what’s wrong?”

He replies immediately, “Nothing. We’re almost home.”

“I know, but don’t think you can escape a conversation about whatever this,” you gesture at him vaguely, “Whatever this is.”

He growls as he pulls into the parking garage for the apartment building, but he decides not to comment. Instead, he takes the opportunity to tease you and poke at your ribs as he helps you toward the door.

Walking mixed with the impromptu tickle fight leaves you weaker than you thought you would be. You almost eat shit in the elevator when he lets go of you for just a second to punch the button to your floor. “Fuck, baby, are you okay?” He launched toward you as soon as you wobbled, catching you with his strong arms around your waist securely.

You groan softly and bury your face in his chest as the elevator starts to move. “I am now,” you say muffled as you nuzzle your face against his pecs.

“Perv,” he spits out, pushing your face away while still keeping an arm around you to keep you upright. He has to drag you down the hall to your shared apartment because you are so stubborn: refusing to be carried while being virtually unable to walk. He knows that’s a large part of why he loves you so his griping is lighthearted.

He leads you to the couch and plops you down onto the cushions. “You stay here. I mean it. I’m going to make that dumb recipe your mom told me about,” he says. He turns shuffling off to find his apron.

Your stomach turns, but this time in a much more pleasant way. He’s so fucking cute sometimes it makes you sick. Warmth settles over you as you pull the burgundy throw blanket over your shoulders and lie your head down on the scratchy decorative pillows. Everything feels a million times more comfortable now that you are comparing it to the impersonal feeling of a hospital bed.

Well, now everything feels different. Hero work felt different. Talking to Nyx felt different. Waking up in a hospital bed too, didn’t feel as hollow as you remember. You know it’s because of the idiot you can hear maneuvering around the kitchen. He makes everything feel exciting, it’s nothing like before. The apartment is warm, and the couch is a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. As you fall asleep for the first of many sorely needed naps you think of the yearly fireworks your town had as a kid and how alive you felt listening to them. In the other room, Katsuki sparks off a mini-explosion to light the stove.

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i-am-bella-donna · 3 years

Text

Just Allergies Chapter 1

AO3 | Next Chapter

Story Summary:

Sore throat. Congestion. Headache. Chills. Fatigue. Craving of death.

It was probably seasonal allergies.

Pairings: Platonic Dukeceit

Word Count: 1,186

CONTENT WARNINGS: ARGUING, SELF-HATRED, SICKNESS

A/N: Frankly, I have no idea what this is. I am essentially dumping my personal issues with allergies onto Janus.

Would I rather work on my other stories? Yes. Do I have the energy to do so? Nope.

Onto the story. Read at your own risk.

~~~

Janus enjoyed philosophical debates as much as the next Side. They were lively and engaging; full of sound reasoning and sophisticated arguments. Debating was always an entertaining activity. No matter what. There were absolutely no circumstances under which his favorite hobby could turn into his worst nightmare.

Not when the opposing party strapped oversized wads of pure denial to their ears.

Not when they refused to listen to his points.

Not when his arguments were dismissed the moment he opened his mouth.

However, everyone had their limits, and if he had to spend one more moment arguing with these sentient brick walls, he would start screaming loud enough to make even Remus look tame in comparison.

Janus shifted on his feet and leaned against the stairwell, clenching his entire body in an attempt to stop himself from shivering. His head was pounding rhythmically, pulsing with pain every few seconds. The front of his face burned from sinus congestion—not the type where he was too stuffed to breathe, but the type that drained back into his throat, practically forcing him to drink his own mucus.

He wanted nothing more than to sit down and take the weight off his shaky legs, but that would only lead to questions—and probably baseless accusations. After all, just two days ago, Roman had accused him of attempting to steal Patton’s cat hoodie. All Janus had done was try to retrieve it for Patton after Patton had asked him to.

Speaking of the angel….

“C’mon, guys,” Patton was pleading. “Can’t you see that Janus is giving us some really good ideas?”

Virgil scoffed, sending a vicious glare in Janus’s direction. “Since when is it a good idea to skip out on an event just because we’re feeling tired? Thomas promised that he would help Lee and Mary Lee pick out some new furniture!”

“But Thomas is more than just tired! He needs to catch up on his sleep if he wants to help anyone! Kiddo, doesn’t he deserve it?”

Roman let out a dark chuckle. “I don’t know, does he?” He lifted his head to shoot a glower at Patton, expression so hateful that even Janus…totally did not flinch at it.

Nope. It was just his headache. He flinched because of the headache, and nothing else.

Stupid allergies, he thought to himself. While it was odd that as a Side, he experienced seasonal allergies that Thomas did not, Janus had simply learned to accept it as a part of his life. They got better or worse depending on how exposed Thomas was to pollen and the outdoors, but allergies had been there since his creation. Unfortunately, this year was worse than normal.

He would willingly volunteer to be Remus’s torture dummy if it meant putting an end to this utter hell.

“Deceit?” Logan’s cool voice brought him out of his haze. The room had fallen silent, and the Light Sides were all staring at him expectantly. Janus blinked and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” he asked, refusing to wince at the invisible cat claws raking across the interior of his throat.

Roman threw his hands in the air. “Oh, would you look at that! He isn’t even paying attention!”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Forgive me for losing interest in the conversation after hearing the same baseless argument repeated approximately eight times!”

“Do you see, Patton?” Virgil asked, gesturing wildly at Janus. “The snake doesn’t even care! Why should we listen to him if he isn’t going to take this seriously?!”

Anger prickled under his skin just as pain prickled in his head. “Because you’re so perfect yourself, Virgil,” Janus said, tone dangerous as he shot the other a glare. “After all, if my memory serves me right, the last time we needed you for an important conversation, you chose to lock yourself in your room, so do not berate me for a moment of distraction when you yourself have made the same mistakes in the past.”

“Please!” Roman snarled. “At least Virgil is wanted! None of us want you around, so if you aren’t giving it your all, why should you even be here? Your function is worthless right now!”

Worthless.

Janus froze at the word before it could even register. He attempted to scrape together a shield of his usual witty retorts; every argument he had already constructed against his own insecurities. Had he been in his right state of mind, he might have been able to scrape his broken pride off the floor and carry on. Maybe—had he not been so distracted by his own discomfort. Too hot against his clothes; too cold against the air; his throat was on fire; his sinuses were burning—

Janus wished that the concept of allergies could be solidified into physical form so he could utterly destroy it for all the pain it had caused him over the years. Nevertheless, drained of his will to fight yet another verbal battle, he simply let out a bitter laugh.

“Fine,” he muttered, and sank out.

He appeared in the middle of the Dark Mindscape with no flourish, immediately removing his shoes, hat, and capelet before collapsing on the couch. Janus still had work to do, but the only thing he wanted to do was scream into oblivion.

Fuck this. Fuck the Light Sides, he thought as he buried his face in the pillow. He wanted to throw something; to hit something; but lacked the energy to do so. Much to his frustration, he found his eyes welling with tears. Fuck Lee and Mary Lee! Fuck philosophy!

“Just fuck everything!”

“Sounds kinky!”

…Shit.

Janus did not roll over, simply opting to raise a hand and shoot Remus a middle finger as he attempted to keep his composure. He loved Remus—the two of them were more than friends; they were family—but at the moment, he was unable to deal with…anything.

A finger poked at his shoulder.

“Janus. Jay-nus,” Remus said cheerfully. “If you’re done lying around, I wanna show you something!”

Janus roughly shook off the hand. “Let me rest, you trash gremlin,” he grumbled, voice muffled.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear your bullshit through that mouthful of pill—”

“Leave me alone, Remus!” Janus regretted his words the moment the other fell silent.

Great, just another thing you messed up at—

He heard Remus laugh. “Okay, Snake Butt. Since my bestie is abandoning me, I guess this friendship is over. Have fun being alone forever!”

And Janus knew—he knew that Remus was joking. He rarely took things to heart, and both him and Janus could read each other well enough to tell whether they were serious.

Janus knew that Remus probably wanted to annoy him a little before letting him rest and checking on him at dinner. He knew that Remus cared about him. That he was teasing. That this small interaction meant literally nothing.

But on top of everything else—his allergies, the prospect of work that he was in no state to do, and his hurtful dismissal from the Light Sides—this was the straw to break the camel’s back.

Janus squeezed the pillow tighter and broke down sobbing.

~~~

A/N: If you have made it to the end, congratulations! Have an imaginary cookie. Except for the snickerdoodle ones. I already ate them all.

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bakugohoex · 4 years

Text

chapter one ➺ auld rivals

pairing: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language and angry boi

word count: 2000+

a/n: omfg sorry for positing this at midnight but hope you guys like chapter one i think it’s starting off good so far and this is defo a slow burn so don’t expect action until later on

summary: in which you and bakugo are rivals always competing against one another, you get called into the commission late at night, unbeknownst that bakugo is there you arrive expecting nothing important but instead are met face to face with the president herself

masterlist | chapter two

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Blood dripped from the side of his face, his breathing heavy and resting on his lips was a smirk. The god damn cocky smile that you wanted to punch out of him. “Fucking hell Y/n only 10 people saved, someone’s doing shit.” You scowled how could he talk about saving people when you were the one who was making sure buildings stopped falling on him and the civilians.

All his quirk was bang bang explosions, nothing special. Yours on the other hand telepathy and psychokinesis one hundred times better than shitty Bakugo’s quirk. He would always prance around acting like a penguin with his ass on fire as if he had been the one saving people. All he did was carry them away, you on the other hand, stopping buildings and rubble fall off them with your mind.

It was a lot harder than Bakugo thought, one wrong thought and everything would come crashing down. But what did you care? His opinion meant nothing and as long as the people were saved that’s all that really mattered. The stars guided the darkness like a picture-perfect scene, the only torments being the blond beside you explosions in hand and the A rank villain in front of you.

“Let me handle this.” You were going to have your glory if it was the last thing you’d do, you didn’t want the glory of praise and admiration. You wanted Katsuki Bakugo on his knees admitting that you were better than him.

You activated your telepathy going into his head, “don’t you fucking dare.” He was unable to move and that’s all you wanted him to do, his silence and lack of movement confirmed he was obeying you before you turned to the villain, their quirk seemed to melt away things it touched.

You ran up to it, the sweat falling down from your body. You had made a hero costume which suited you and had easy mobility allowing you to not only use your psychokinesis to trap the rubble around the villains arms but to easily run and jump onto objects to kick the villains down. Their arms became trapped as it had already begun to melt away the concrete that you latched onto it and before you could use your quirk you felt the melted away rubble hit your body.

“Fuck.” A low whisper came as you could hear Bakugo’s thoughts, the hatred he had pent up to you but his inability to move suppressing him. Maybe it was selfish to let your own aspirations get in the way of a quick defeat, but where’s the fun in that.

You used your quirk effectively getting inside the villain as you prevented it touching anything before grabbing the discarded metal from the destruction that had been caused prior. Metal surrounded your arms as you made it move along with your walking. Both your quirks in action before you pushed everything you had onto the villain. Their movement limited as they were trapped underneath, you heard nor saw no movement and the smirk you felt on your face rise made Bakugo’s blood boil.

You stopped manipulating Bakugo as he ran towards you quirk raised, you could almost feel the explosions and burning sensation his pace quickening. “Bakugo don’t you dare, or I’ll get inside your head again and we both don’t want that.”

Telepathy took a toll on you the majority of the times, hearing thoughts and emotions wasn’t something you were too fond of doing. The villain in question had transformed back into a human having previously been a sluggish type of creature, he was knocked unconsciousness, you both saw the police force come and arrest him.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that shit again Y/n.” Bakugo raised his voice catching the attention of the police force and commission representatives.

You crossed your arms raising an eyebrow, “I’m the one who defeated the villain.” He was furious, the rage that filled inside of him was more than he could ever imagine, and it was going towards a pipsqueak like you.

“You got into my head and prevented me from doing my job you dumbass.” His knuckles had turned white at the clenched fist he was making. You had pissed him off and all you could give him was a shrug.

“Shitty woman.” He could say all he wanted about you, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t expect him to get on your knees for you, but you were doing your job, and logically you knew that if he used his quirk it would have no effect on this type of villain. You were able to suppress and defeat him and with both you and Bakugo fighting together the chances of risk increased. It wasn’t that you assumed the level of risk would be high, you knew you had worked it out whilst preventing rubble from falling from civilians. And one of the likely outcomes that had the highest percentage was Bakugo melting away.

You would never tell him you suppressed him to save him, you’d rather he be pissed with you then even consider that you two were more than rivals. He had left to go back to the agency, whilst you explained what happened to the police force knowing you’d be the one to have to do the paperwork.

You signed walking back as well, it had reached pitch darkness by the time you arrived back, stripping the costume off, the long-sleeved black leotard covering most of your body, with exposed legs which were covered by thigh highs that went right up to your mid-thigh.

Your quirk didn’t mean you necessarily needed any fancy costume but the one you wore made it easier to move especially the gloves on your hands which allowed for more materials to be controlled around your fingers. It was a benefit of some sorts; a black necklace went around your neck which allowed for a lack of nausea to occur. It was common for you to vomit up after controlling too many people back in your UA days but now it was less common, only a mild headache occurring.

Wearing normal clothes, you grabbed your bags knowing your patrol was over and you could have a weekend of relaxation. Mina and Momo having invited the girls for a catchup, it had been months since you last saw them and to have a catchup on life events was a must. You all had been busy and as you all grew older the busier everybody got, even the boys seemed to have their own lives. You didn’t mind but working alongside Bakugo in the same agency was a pain, you never expected it once graduating together but now you and Bakugo were like auld rivals.

You saw Bakugo at the front entrance he was on the phone as he paced back and forth. Probably one of his hook ups telling him he’s the father, you didn’t dare look into his thoughts, it was his private life and in honesty it made you uncomfortable.

He saw you walking out, you easily passed him he was still pissed by how his voice raised even more. Someone had made him even angrier than before clearly; you didn’t bother to ask mainly due to not caring.

A couple signs and vulgar swears came out of his mouth, you didn’t know if it was a friend, mother or even some from above but you stopped caring once you heard something from your bag.

Your phone ringing loudly, you hated phone calls even from your own parents, the idea of talking to people wherever you were was disgusting. That didn’t mean you hated people you just liked your own space and liked hanging out with people on your own accord. You answered the unknown number you were met with someone you never expected.

“This is Y/n Y/l/n.” They were almost unsure themselves, why call if you don’t know if you’re talking to the right person.

“Ugh yeah.” You were hesitant not liking the weakness of not being able to hear or know the other person’s thoughts on the other side.

You heard a sign of relief as they spoke again, “thank God, we thought you had been sent to the hospital, it’s the Hero Public Safety commission, I work under the president and we want to see you.”

“You didn’t have to make it so dramatic” You mutter barely audible, “I’ll be there.”

She says no more hanging up, you hated being called to the commission, they had no need to directly go to you when they could just go to someone who truly cared about the formalities, all you wanted to do was save people and piss Bakugo off, but no something always seemed to happen.

You turned around walking back the way you came from, passing the agency, Bakugo had probably already gone home himself. Why the fuck did you have to go to the commission why couldn’t that shitty man get called in as well?

You didn’t hate Bakugo you were just tired and hated how he could go home probably to a nice warm bed whilst you had to take detours for hells know what reasons.

Finally arriving after your unrelieved feelings had become dull to bare, you walked inside a man already waiting for you. You followed trying to get some sort of vibe from the man, you couldn’t bare to read his thoughts knowing it’d be emotional with anxieties over work so tried to look at him seeing if he had anything to him that showed hope.

He didn’t! He led you to the presidents office after a silent ride u the elevator, you didn’t mean to stare at the man, but you wanted to know if he had any clue of what was going on. And when you did finally get into his brain it was more worries about if his wife would let him in the house for being late.

A bore as you had thought, the double doors enticed you to come forward, someone was already waiting in the chair as you walked in, what you hadn’t realised was a woman had been walking back out. You both crashed into each other and her papers fell everywhere, using your quirk you gathered the papers quickly preventing them for falling on the ground and getting muddled up, the papers rested back in her arms as you helped her up.

“Sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You hummed an its okay before seeing the president. It was a shock to see her the one leading this meeting but you didnt ask just wanting to get it over and done with.

“Agh Y/n so glad you could join us, take a seat.” At the sight of your name being spoken the man quickly turned his head, and it was someone you hadn’t expected.

Bakugo sat on the chair, angry as always. You sat beside him, his glare on your body, he watched intentively as you tried to make him stop by glaring back.

“What’s the stupid psychic doing here?” You continued to glare but at the word psychic you got pissed, you weren’t a stupid fake psychic and it irritated you when he said it.

The president watched you both glaring it was a sight to say the least, you were on the verge of pushing his chair over and you could already sense explosions about to appear before she finally cleared her throat before speaking.

“We didn’t call you both here to fight we have a proposition for you two.” You both gave blank looks before Bakugo spoke.

“If you want us to do some shitty work in other fields than I’m already out.” Bakugo was ready to leave. You nodded in agreement not wanting to be involved as some promoter for a shitty energy drink to be sold to the youth. Both ready to leave on your own accords, the president finally turned away looking out through the glass windows admiring the stars and the moon which shone throughout the blues and blacks of the sky. It was a river of opportunity that you had often admired whilst on patrols.

She spoke again but this time the next words that came out of her mouth had stopped you both in your thoughts. “What do you two know about the Paranormal Liberation Front?”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel

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tthael · 3 years

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I really admire so many things about your writing - the introspection and deep meaning, the realistic and sensitive way that you handle topics. Do you have any recs for fav media/books/tv shows/fanfics ? I guess I'm curious if there are any you think might have similar qualities/themes?

This is a tough one because basically everything I consume gets picked apart and reused in some way. However, I’ll give it a shot:

The Book Thief and I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak. There’s quite a lot I like about Zusak’s use of language and have since 2007 when I read The Book Thief for the first time, and there’s something very cinematic and magical about I Am the Messenger (particularly in the chapter with the young track runner).

The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell. He’s most commonly known for Cloud Atlas, but he has an ongoing theme of vampires and cannibalism reappearing in his work (I just read Slade House for the first time while I was in quarantine) and there’s something deeply satisfying about the way that all of the disparate pieces come to fruition at the climax of The Bone Clocks. Not a perfect book, but deeply satisfying.

The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver. Again, she’s most commonly known for The Poisonwood Bible, but I liked that well enough to read The Lacuna in 2013, and I completely hated it for the first half of the book until finally something clicked in my brain and I activated the literary critic within, who doesn’t care so much about whether they enjoy something and more cares about how well something is done. The description of US American rationing during World War II really got me onto the novel’s side, if that makes sense; and I do love a good family epic, and while this only focuses on one protagonist instead of generations of them, it’s interesting in a similar way to The Bone Clocks where you see everything start to snowball together.

Literally anything by Ursula Vernon/T. Kingfisher. I particularly recommend The Raven and The Reindeer, which I read shortly after being diagnosed with my chronic illness and really helped me to understand the irrelevance of shame. There’s something very satisfying about saying “a reindeer doesn’t care if it smells bad, so I’m going to lean into that particular apathy and not allow a bully to take me down over it.” Something comforting about taking shelter in the animal and in survival, when you and your body are in one place and working on the same side, and it’s your brain that’s ready to give up first but your body will keep dragging you through because that’s what it does. Certain lines in Indelicate were inspired by her adaptation of Tam Lin in Jackalope Wives and other Stories (https://www.amazon.com/Jackalope-Wives-Other-Stories-Kingfisher-ebook/dp/B071946RLN). Lots of her short stories are available at this link for free: http://www.redwombatstudio.com/portfolio/writing/short-stories/

TV’s a little harder to unpack, since I don’t always think in terms of visual media, I tend to default to words first. Recently I’ve been enjoying New Amsterdam on NBC--it’s nice to see the radical socialist doctor doing his damnedest to secure the right thing--and Call the Midwife--similar reasons. There’s a lot about meeting someone where they are in both shows that I appreciate.

There’s also a lot of music that inspires my writing so I’ll have to dedicate a post specifically to that in my methods and materials.

Fanfic, though! Lots of my favorites, lots of genres. Here we go:

we are all stardust by synergenic (Losseflame) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682496) Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, pairing Finn/Poe Dameron. Sexually explicit, but also leans a lot into physicality. You can probably see the influence on the very first chapter of Indelicate when Eddie’s waking up in pain and Richie’s at his bedside. It’s very much inspired by a similar sickbed scene here.

If They Haven’t Learned Your Name by silentwalrus (https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329503) Captain America/Marvel Cinematic Universe Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes. The holy grail of Steve/Bucky fanfiction. If you want independent character exploration, this is the place to go. Natasha shaving her head? Yes. Sam pleading with Steve to keep his shit together while thirty Koren grandmothers assume they are American celebrities? Yes. Bucky defiantly hunting down his sense of self while bingeing romance novels in a space ship? Yes. Pay particular attention to the Sam chapters, because they’re a beautiful way of defining Steve’s characterization from an outside perspective, and I’m trying to do the same with Eddie looking at Richie in Indelicate.

An Ever-Fixed Mark by AMarguerite (https://archiveofourown.org/works/8523001) Pride & Prejudice (Jane Austen) Elizabeth Bennet/Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy. Soulmark AU. This is one of my longtime favorite fanfictions and what it taught me was cause and effect. The characters move the plot forward based on their assumptions and decisions. Definitely very helpful when I was writing TTHAEL by the seat of my pants.

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow (https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233709) Supernatural Dean Winchester/Castiel. Sexually explicit. A lot of the summary I can give here is spoilers, but if you read this one through, you’ll be able to see the inspiration for the “Can you tell me where I can get another Eddie Kaspbrak?” scene in Indelicate.

Work of All Saints by antistar_e (kaikamahine) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006644) Coco (2017) Imelda Rivera/Héctor Rivera/Ernesto de la Cruz. Sexually mature. Oh my GOD this is a beautiful coming-of-age story set in turn-of-the-century Oaxaca, this is the best complete expansion of canon that I’ve ever seen; the author takes the pieces and runs with them and it is WONDERFUL.

Lycanthropic Studies by Eiiri (https://archiveofourown.org/series/575263) Harry Potter, Remus Lupin/Sirius Black canon-divergence AU. I very much enjoy the meditation on lycanthropy as a chronic illness and I sometimes reread this for comfort. Particularly early on Remus has a rant about how he’s sick and he’s always sick and his life doesn’t stop for it, despite holidays and birthdays he still has to deal with the consequences of his illness and take the devastating medication, and there’s a lot about that that speaks to me. I haven’t kept up with the series for some time, though.

Careful Truths by SassySnowperson (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111966) Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Bodhi Rook/Luke Skywalker canon-divergence AU. Sexually explicit. Honestly identity p!rn fics are a good inspiration for that third-person limited perspective I’ve been working on in Indelicate. Also I love love LOVE Bodhi Rook. It’s fun watching him run in circles trying to conceal his identity from Luke while completely oblivious to Luke doing exactly the same thing.

Stammtisch by chaya (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060152) Critical Role: Season 2, Caleb Widogast/Mollymauk Tealeaf, AU. Sexually explicit. Long before Caleb actually leveled up enough to cast Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion, chaya speculated about what kind of spaces he might create for each of his friends. I think it’s a very good resource for really condensing characterization down into lots of images and concepts and deciding what other characters know about them. The idea of making space for someone else is something that I lean into a lot when I write Ben, who’s the kind of man who will set himself on fire to keep those he loves warm, and even though Critical Role has far more material than even IT for determining characterization, and even though this particular moment has already occurred in canon--it’s just a wonderful homey story, and has the kind of found family vibes I like for the Losers as well.

I know that’s a lot to unpack there, but all of those fics are very good and I recommend reading any assortment that appeals to you. (Work of All Saints in particular you don’t have to be familiar with the source material beyond the basic premise; it stands on its own.) Thank you for asking, and thank you for reading!

#nocturnalpinkcat #my fic #indelicate #now what i'm gonna say may sound indelicate #nwigsmsi #things that happen after eddie lives #tthael #fic recs #book recs

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eryiss · 3 years

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Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hi everyone. Strap in for character development, and the ridiculous lengths that are needed to cause the development. Hope you all enjoy.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Four - Fighting In The Moonlight

Day Three: Wednesday

When Freed woke the next day, he wasn't surprised to find he didn't suddenly like Gajeel Redfox. The last few days of pointless antagonism and ridiculous challenges didn't slip his mind, and the stalemate between them was as tenuous as it could possibly be. This was what he expected; a weak apology after an argument was hardly going to fix everything that had happened between them in such a short time, and the overwhelming dislike they held from each other. That wasn't how emotions worked, and it certainly wasn't how Freed worked as a person.

Though, the multiple blow-ups that Freed had indulged in were hardly how he acted either. Maybe Gajeel had knocked him off kilter more than he thought.

The rest of the last night had been awkward; perhaps the most awkward situation they had been in yet. At least before, they'd had their anger and resentment to focus on, but their conversation seemed to take that away. For the rest of the night, they were two men who had a lot of issues and no way to voice them, healthily or otherwise.

A few times, Freed had considered apologising. Then, he told himself that he had nothing to apologise for, and that Gajeel was the one in the wrong. That left him with a sickly feeling in his stomach, because he knew it wasn't entirely true.

Dammit. Freed wasn't particularly fond of emotional exploration, and Gajeel had somehow forced it on him.

"I know yer awake," Gajeel grumbled, voice more sleepy than angry. Freed opened his eyes slowly to see the sun in its mid-morning state - it still annoyed him slightly that Gajeel was an early riser while Freed was fond of sleeping in - and Gajeel sitting by a fire. "I made you breakfast."

With a little frown, Freed sat up as he blinked away the sleep. He had been doing all of their cooking since they had arrived, partially because Gajeel wanted to test him and partially because Gajeel clearly liked what Freed could do with fish. This was one of the aspects of the week Freed had actually liked, as cooking in multiple situations with limited resources was something he found oddly fun. Still, he wouldn't complain if Gajeel was going to take over the chore in some kind of peace offering. He looked at the breakfast offered to him and scrunched his face in confusion.

He had made toast. Had he made bread somehow? No, that was ridiculous.

"It ain't poisoned," Gajeel continued speaking. "I ain't pissed on it or anything."

"That didn't once cross my mind," Freed croaked a little as he spoke. "I was confused as to where you got the bread from."

"There's a village with a bakery half an hour's walk away, stopped by and got some supplies," Gajeel shrugged, and Freed frowned. Surely that went against the entire point of this survivalist retreat. Gajeel seemed to preempt the question. "The whole living off the forest thing was because I didn't think you could handle it. Sounds petty when I say it out loud," He chuckled. "But a mage can't stay in a hotel - I thought that's what you were doin' - so I wanted to make sure you could handle yerself. You can, so no point in eating fish again when we don't have to."

Oh, that was shockingly mature. Both the admission and the reasoning for stopping the survivalist aspects of the training. Perhaps Gajeel had more emotional maturity than Freed was giving him credit for.

Perhaps it was his time to make an effort too.

"That's reasonable," Freed agreed, taking the toast before speaking again. The next sentence he had to force out before annoyance at Gajeel filled him again. "I must admit, if we're being honest with one another, I have found your exercise to be rather genius. I'm quite impressed."

Oh, he actually meant that. That was unexpected.

"Genius?" Gajeel scoffed. "You makin' fun of me?"

"Not at all," Freed corrected, because if he actually did think Gajeel was impressive then he wasn't going to recant on his words. "The fact you've essentially made a gymnasium out of things you can find in a forest is impressive itself. It allows for the benefits of specific exercise, while also lowering the limitations. You could learn to swim in a pool, for example, but learning in a lake adds the complications of pond life, temperature, shorelines and distractions. You could weight train with barbells, but doing it with the tree trunk means you're ready to lift things that aren't meant to be lifted and will offer less support," He took another bite of the toast. "You've essentially replaced the comfort of a gym with the practical requirements of a mission environment. It's quite impressive."

"Oh, shit," Gajeel grumbled a little, and looked away. "Thanks."

"There's also your intention to push my limits," Freed saw Gajeel tense just a little. "If I were the type of man you wanted me to be, I expect this would have been torturous. So not only did you make a practical training environment, you found a way to do it while also making me uncomfortable as you could," He smirked a little. "You're smarter than you look, Gajeel."

"Can't tell if yer complementin' me or not."

"I am, if a little backhandedly," Freed commented, and Gajeel hummed a little.

They sat beside one another for a short while, and Gajeel wordlessly handed Freed a small metal mug filled with coffee. It wasn't the type of bean that Freed would have chosen for himself, but there was a certain satisfaction in the burn on his tongue. He also normally would have added some milk, but this particular roast didn't seem to need it. He would have to look into it.

When their breakfasts had been finished, neither man spoke for a few minutes more. Freed still expected Gajeel to have some sort of challenge or task ready for him as he had the previous two days. Eventually, once the quiet had begun to unnerve him, he spoke again.

"Other than the fight, what have we planned today?"

"Kinda thought that was all we needed," Gajeel shrugged, not looking towards Freed as he kicked dirt onto the fire to extinguish it. "Maybe we could go back before it gets dark? I dunno."

"Right," Freed was speaking quietly. Something was clearly wrong with Gajeel. "If you wish."

"Ain't got anything else planned," Gajeel stood as the fire burned away.

"Right," Freed repeated, disbelieving. Had he hurt Gajeel's feelings? That didn't make him particularly good. It didn't make him feel guilty, exactly, but it wasn't great. "I'd like to stay until the evening at least. Maybe returning to Magnolia at night would be good for us both; I don't typically travel at night so perhaps it will help broaden my horizons."

"If you want," Gajeel still wasn't looking at him.

"So, if we've got most of the day with nothing to do, perhaps we should go with what you planned originally," Freed suggested, and Gajeel glanced towards him for a moment. He looked away quickly. "I expect it would be equal parts humiliating and exhausting."

"Oh yeah," Gajeel chuckled a little. "You would've cried."

"Would I?" Freed challenged. "Maybe you should prove it."

"Maybe I should."

When they looked at each other again, they both wore the familiar edge of challenge in their eyes, but this time the reasoning behind it was different. Not kind, not friendly, but not hateful either. An odd middle ground, one that they could work with.

——

"On the count of three, we fight," Gajeel stated, and Freed gave a nod.

It was evening now, with the moon high in the sky and the stars illuminated the darkness. As they had for the last three days, Freed's muscles ached from a day of physical activity and a variety of challenges. Today, though, had been a little different. While the challenges were clearly designed to prey on Freed's supposed weaknesses, Gajeel approached them with an attitude almost teacherly in his helpfulness. An entirely reluctant teacher who had lost all enthusiasm for his job, but a teacher nonetheless.

They had made camouflage for themselves, which consisted of covering their exposed skin in mud and leaves. Freed suspected that if they'd done it the day before, Gajeel would have sat back and watched with Freed amusement. Instead, he showed Freed what to do, and led by example.

Next, they'd made a boat out of dead wood, originally to highlight the lack of practical skills Gajeel thought Freed had. But under Gajeel's tutelage - he'd done this many times before meeting Pantherlilly, so was proficient at it - they managed to make a working raft.

After that, Gajeel had lifted the no magic rule. He thought that, for their fight, they should know their opponent. They had taken turns showing off their magic, using it against a tree. Freed had been pleasantly surprised by the range of spells that Gajeel possessed. He had thought the man could only turn his body to iron, so to see what he was capable of was enlightening.

Honestly, it has been a good day. Maybe the other days would have been good if they hadn't been determined to hate one another.

"Three," Gajeel said, voice low. "Two. One."

They both lurched forward, Gajeel with iron crawling up his arms to replace his skin and Freed with runes spiralling down his sword. They were both fully dressed in their normal clothes - their coats had been essentially abandoned on the first day, so the extra weight was a little unfamiliar - so that they could battle in the same conditions they would in a mission environment. Now that he had a glimmer of objectivity, Freed could admit that Gajeel really had thought this out well. Tactically, he was bordering on genius.

An extended fist cast in iron shot towards Freed, and he pushed his sword to parry it. He was knocked back, but managed to stay on his feet. With a muttered spell, the runes swirling around him shot forward, plastering themselves onto Gajeel's metal skin.

The yelling of pain was cathartic, and Frees watched with a grin as Gajeel recoiled.

Still, Gajeel clearly wasn't the type to let some pain runes stop his stubbornness. He gritted his teeth and lurched forward, arm mutating into a blade of black steel. The magic used to cast the spell must have overwhelmed the pain runes, as they shattered on his skin, and Freed cussed under his breath. Dragon Slayer magic was inherently powerful, so simply plastering the man with runes until he could no longer stand wouldn't be enough.

Gajeel ran forward with his sword arm extended, and swung for Freed's gut. Freed lowered his sword to protect himself, and saw that Gajeel's sword arm wasn't as sharp as it could have been. More a baton than a blade.

How considerate.

For a while, all they could do was parry one another. Freed needed to reevaluate his strategy while Gajeel needed to build up to something more powerful. Freed was a better swordsman, and until Gajeel had enough energy to use his ranged spells, they were at a stalemate.

Metal beat against metal as they battled, cutting through the relative silence of the forest. The moonlight and the stars illuminated the battle, dancing off the nearly stilled lake they had chosen to fight beside. Were there any wildlife nearby, they had decided to scarper away, no doubt sensing the overwhelming magical energy emanating from the two fighting men.

Freed's sword met Gajeel's, and the sparks that flew made both men wince and recoil a little. They both jumped back a few steps, panting and taking a moment to recover.

"Sword ain't just a prop, huh?" Gajeel huffed. "If my skin wasn't iron, you would've got a few cuts in."

"And if you hadn't dulled your arm perhaps you might have to."

"Couldn't risk cutting yer perfect skin," Gajeel taunted, but it didn't feel as cruel as his other comments had been intended to be. "Basically all you've got, isn't it?"

"We'll see," Freed retorted.

With a sweeping motion of his sword, Freed quick-casted a perimeter of runes around them. They implanted themselves in the dirt before glowing bright and magical. Walls shot upwards and the effect took place, lifting both of them off the air as the effect of gravity lessened. Gajeel seemed taken aback, stumbling in the air that lifted him and looking for something to latch onto. He found nothing, and Freed smirked a little.

Freed cast his own wings to counteract the gravity spell. Runes now flying around him, he forced his magic outwards and sent tendrils of power towards his opponent. Normally this combination of spells would have been too taxing, but three days without had given him an excess of power.

Iron cut through his runes, and Gajeel's extended fist slammed into Freed's face in a vicious punch.

Dazed, it took him a moment to see what had happened. With his left hand, Gajeel had made multiple strands of iron and buried them into the ground, allowing himself to be anchored in place. He had pulled himself down so that he was on the ground again, albeit a little unsteady on his feet. With this stability, he was able to essentially make Freed's gravity rune useless.

A metal hand wrapped tightly around Freed's neck, and pushed him into one of the large trees in the rune perimeter. Freed gasped a little, his throat being crushed as Gajeel pushed forward. Even knowing the man would stop before seriously injuring him, Freed began to panic. A tingling of brimstone rose over his skin.

Instantly, he cast a spell. The reversal of the gravity spell, that doubled the pressure rather than halved it. They were both flung to the ground, and Gajeel's extended arm retreated to prop him up.

Both men struggled to keep themselves from collapsing, and Freed felt the magic flowing through him. Powerful and relentless, he quickly tried to utilise it. Tentacles of runic streams shot forward, all meant to hurt their target. They wrapped around Gajeel's arms, legs and neck, burning into him and making him yell in pain.

Scales formed on Freed's arm, but he didn't notice.

"Iron Dragon's Roar!" Gajeel yelled over the pain runes, and a flurry of magic filled the space between them.

The spell hit Freed like a truck. The dominating burn of powerful magic hit him, the pain tripled by the barrage of metallic shrapnel cutting away at his skin. A dragon slayer's roar was an experience that Freed had so far avoided - when he trained with Laxus, the other man refused to use the spell for fear of hurting his teammates - and the unfamiliar sensation was hellish. He was knocked off his feet, flung backwards and pinned against the wall of runes by Gajeel's magic. He knew he was yelling in pain, but couldn't hear himself.

Seeing it as his only next step, Freed cut the gravity runes entirely. For a moment he was forced back further by Gajeel's roar, and he yelled in pain as his back cracked against a fallen log. At least the change of gravity had thrown Gajeel off balance, as his roar cut through the trees, and into the sky, parting the clouds.

Brimstone. Fire. Darkness. They all coursed through Freed's veins.

He didn't notice it, though. The pain from the spell and subsequent fall was all-consuming, meaning the mutation of the skin on his right arm turning to scales went unnoticed, as did the burning in his throat.

Gajeel, apparently less affected by the fight than Freed, was on his feet and running towards Freed quickly. He had turned his arm to the sword again, and Freed could see he was grinning through red tinted eyes. Gajeel clearly thought that this fight was already finished, and Freed felt a rush of anger flow through him.

He would not lose a fight to Gajeel Redfox.

He would not lose a fight to a man who had tried to humiliate him.

He would not lose a fight to a man who had disrespected him.

He would not lose a fight to a man so inferior to him that he shouldn't be breathing the same fucking air to him!

Oh. It was too late, wasn't it.

Without control of his body, Freed raised his arm. It had been fully transformed into it's demonic counterpart, and Freed could only watch as magic crackled and formed at the end of his claw. He couldn't stop it now, it was too late for that. His attention had slipped, and Gajeel's parting of the clouds had allowed for direct moonlight to hit him, strengthening the demon inside of him enough for a minor takeover,

A beam of concentrated darkness flew from his claw, hitting Gajeel directly. The spell was an amalgam of every rune Freed had: pain, torment, trauma, paralysis, unconsciousness, poison. In a word, the spell was hell.

It hit Gajeel right in the heart, and Freed watched with wide eyes.

The ensuing scream sent a chill through him.

Gajeel flew backwards, and Freed watched as his eyes closed and he was knocked out. With heavy breaths, Freed forced his arm upwards and shot as much magic through his claw as he could. It was a foreign and horrible sensation, turning his runic magic into darkness, but he needed to do it. He was burning through all the magic that the demon had taken from him, exhausting himself to the point where the demon's influence would have to die out. The magic ripped away at him, and the claw began to shrivel.

The exhaustion hit him in waves, and his bones felt like they might break. He panted and heaved, nausea hitting him as he closed his eyes. It was only when he heard a loud, echoing splash that he forced his eyes open again.

Gajeel was in the lake, unconscious and with his energy sapped from him.

With as much energy as he could muster, Freed ran towards the lake and dove in. The cold hit him and woke him slightly, and he pushed on to swim towards where Gajeel had landed. The ripples were still breaking the surface, acting like a beacon for Freed to find him. He pushed on despite his aching arms, gritting his teeth as the creeping of brimstone ran over the back of his exposed neck.

Gajeel wasn't floating. He was sinking. Ignoring the demon fighting for his body, Freed submerged himself in the water and began to swim down. He saw Gajeel's body and quickly hooked his arms around the man's chest. He was limp, and Freed was quickly pulling him to the surface.

Dragging him to the shore was hellish. His body screamed in protest, but he kept going until they were on the rocks that bordered the lake. Freed wanted nothing more than to lie down and let his exhaustion take over, and he very

Gajeel was still unconscious.

Putting him on his back with his head tilted back slightly, Freed pinched Gajeel's nose and brought his mouth to Gajeel's. He breathed in heavily, forcing air into the man's lungs as best he could. He alternated between that and chest compressions, arms still burning as he forced his hands on the other man's chest.

Eventually, Gajeel spluttered out and spat water towards the side. He coughed and groaned, throat hoarse and eyes unblinking. Freed wanted to explain, or at least to help Gajeel further with his recovery, but felt exhaustion overtake him. He quickly wrote a rune to heat and protect them, before his eyes fluttered shut.

——

"You lost control, didn't ya?"

Gajeel's words cut through the silence of the train ride to Magnolia. From the moment Freed had woken up half an hour ago, their conversation had been limited. They had discussed if they were both healthy and uninjured (they were, more or less) and how they should get home in their exhausted state. Freed had teleported them both to the train station, and runed their carriage so Gajeel wouldn't be overly affected by his motion sickness. That had been it for conversation.

Freed had hoped to keep it that way. His relationship with Gajeel was tense enough before he attacked and nearly killed him, he now expected a verbal and perhaps physical assault from the other man now. He would have deserved it as well. But Gajeel had said nothing, as if he didn't have the energy to be angry,

"Excuse me?" Freed asked, pretending as if Gajeel wasn't entirely right.

"You didn't mean to do that spell, probably didn't mean to transform yer arm either, did ya?" Gajeel shrugged, as if the statement was both uninteresting and unimportant. When Freed said nothing, he continued. "You looked scared. Scared of yerself when you hit me with the spell, and scared for me when you resuscitated me."

"I didn't want to see you injured," Freed brushed off, Gajeel did not need to know about this. "Perfectly rational."

"If you didn't wanna injure me then you wouldn't have used the spell," Gajeel shrugged, looking at Freed as Freed looked out the window. "I deserve to know what happened, City-Boy."

Freed wanted to scoff, but perhaps Gajeel was right.

"No, I didn't intend to use the spell on you," Freed admitted, watching as the night rolled past them. "You have my apologies."

He wouldn't meet the man's eyes, because he didn't need to dammit. Gajeel had spent the last three days - well, two days, since he'd changed his mood today - tormenting Freed in whatever way he could. The entire point of this exercise had been to make Freed feel small, and pathetic; well, maybe not. He could have been crueler, and he did seem to have a flimsy reasoning behind everything he had done. Either way, Freed using a single spell on him didn't suddenly make them best friends, and it certainly wasn't enough to make Freed forget what had happened throughout the week.

Frankly, perhaps Gajeel deserved it. He might have deserved to be left in the lake!

Gods.

The realisation hit Freed with force. The attempts by his demon to possess him brought a lot of anxieties up to the surface, mainly about the possibility of losing control of his body. It was a valid concern - the demon would kill everything in its way if in control - but often made him forget about the smaller repercussions of his demon's growing power.

It wasn't just physical, the demon's effect was emotional. While it grew in power, it's cruelty infected the mood of him and everyone around him. It was why he had exploded at Gajeel so many times, and perhaps the reason Gajeel was hell-bent on making this horrid for him.

Dammit, he should have known this. He should have told Gajeel that this might happen!

"I can almost hear ya thinkin'," Gajeel commented. "And I know I ain't been fair in ya, but I don't think yer some kid without restraint. So you wanna explain what happened?"

Maybe he did owe Gajeel that.

It was comical really. Now he knew his demon was to blame for his foul mood, he suddenly saw how ridiculous it all was. Gods, how hadn't he realised it before.

"My demonic take-over isn't exactly like that of the Strauss'," Freed sighed, looking towards Gajeel again. "Rather than being born with a demonic alter-ego, like Mirajane, I have a living demon inside of my soul. Technically speaking, I'm being possessed at all times, I simply have the right magic to stop it from taking over."

"Oh," Gajeel grunted, because he clearly couldn't think of anything else to say. Freed expected that, most people didn't know how to react when they were told a demon could overthrow the man next to them. "Shit."

"It is," Freed agreed. "Typically it isn't an issue. It gets stronger around the full moon, and around the shortest day of the year. When they happen to coincide, it's power grows and incidents like that happen. I should have warned you, I'm sorry."

Gajeel didn't say anything. He looked Freed up and down, clearly worried. Freed understood that.

"It won't happen again," He assured, though it wasn't exactly a promise he could keep,

"You really got a demon living in you?" He asked, and Freed nodded slightly. "How the hell did that happen?" They weren't there yet. Freed tensed a little, and Gajeel seemed to know that was a limit not to push. "You gonna be okay to keep going with this? I know I was trying to push you around but if we need to call it in, I don't think Makarov's gonna be too bothered."

"It should be fine," Freed said firmly. "It only happened tonight because I lost concentration. I won't allow that to happen again."

He wouldn't. The demon was not going to control him, nor his life.

"Well, now I know what to do if it happens again," Gajeel said, and he was smirking now. Not a condescending one, nor particularly cocky. It was to break the tension. "So if yer voice gets all creepy and yer eye all glowing, I'll knock yer ass right out before y' can blink."

"You have my eternal thanks," Freed drolled.

"These runes are fucking amazing y'know," Gajeel turned the conversation away. "Ya think you'd be able to teach the bookworm how to cast 'em. Don't think I'm gonna get on a train without 'em anymore. Finally understand why people find it relaxing."

"I don't expect so," Freed chuckled a little. "They're more complex than you'd think. Levy might not be prepared for a spell like it just yet."

"Say that to her and I think she'd hit ya," Gajeel laughed. "But if that's the case, then I might have to kidnap ya for my next mission. Ain't a problem right?"

"Well, if you're being so kind as to offer to knock me out, then I suppose I owe you," Freed smiled a little.

"Damn right ya do," Gajeel grinned right at him, sharp teeth so clearly visible. "Especially after the fun couple days we just had."

For the first time, the two men shared a laugh together.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #Freed Justine #Gajeel Redfox #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Canon Divergent #Multi Chapter #Chapter Four #Word Count: 4.4k

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hephaestiions · 4 years

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Addictive Tendencies

@hprarepairnet & @slytherdornet - quidditch player ships challenge Pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood (Flintwood) Summary: “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.”

“Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. One thing leads to another.

Warnings: Light angst, break-ups, everyone swears a great deal, mentions of nsfw/18+ activities. Rating: Teen.

Word Count: 4k (yes, I know, it is very long for a Tumblr fic)

For all that he feels almost dead going through the motions of life, Oliver comes alive on the pitch. There’s something about the clean, crisp scent of fresh air– the kind reminding him of the open fields close to home– and the adrenaline rush of mounting a broom that leeches into every cell of his being. It fires his synapses, jolts his entire body out of the sleepwalking trance he slips into during classes and meals and all the other mundanities that compose everyday life. Oliver can’t wait to go pro.

To leave fucking Transfiguration and Potions and Professor Sprout’s herb gardens behind. To make the familiarity of the broom clenched under his thighs and the roaring blood in his ears his livelihood, his reason to wake up every morning and go back to bed each night without drinking himself into a stupor thinking of everything that could have– Fuck no. He’s not going down that road right now.

Right now, his focus needs to be narrowed down to that slim space between the hoops and the perfect, concentrated manoeuvre that will allow him to slip through. His focus needs to be on his game, his practice, not on… other things.

Vision tunnelling, Oliver tenses his calves around the reliable solidity of his broom, and corkscrews his entire body almost violently through the gap, veering dangerously close to the metal bars of the left hoop, emerging unscathed and out of breath on the other side. He wants to be happy.

Wants to be proud, because this is the first time he has executed this move flawlessly without either crashing his elbow or his knee or his side into some part of the hoops. He desperately wants to feel the joy he would be whooping with by now if this had been even six months ago. But all he feels is the desperate desire to hear Marcus shout, “That’s what I fucking call a Hummingbird, Wood, you fucking genius!” either from the stands or from his place on another broom by Oliver’s side. He’s met with silence. The wind moans, twisting its way through the branches of the trees lining the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. Oliver wants to drive himself into a metal bar just to work off some of the pent up frustration and rage gathering in his shoulders, his back muscles, his stomach. The almost physical ache gripping and tearing at his heart. He kicks out, and the broom bucks underneath him, buoyed in the wrong direction by an errant current of air. There’s a brief moment of sheer terror as his body misbalances midair, but he isn’t the fucking captain of Gryffindor for nothing. He lets himself fall for a second, letting his weight gather momentum, before pulling out at the very last second. Sometimes he wants to smash his entire body into a wall, but he knows better than to work out his aggressive tendencies on the unforgiving pitch.

His legacy deserves better than to be remembered as a gruesome splatter on the grounds of Hogwarts. Marcus though. Marcus can bloody well plummet to death for all Oliver cares. Except.

Except the very thought sends shudders down Oliver’s spine, and his hands inadvertently reach out into thin air even contemplating the prospect of letting Marcus hurt himself. Except that Oliver would take the fall before letting Marcus take it. He’s fucked, truly. “You’re a bloody fool, Oliver,” he mutters to himself with only the wind listening in. “And for once you’ve got something other than terrible grades to prove how truly fucked you are.” Marcus’ words echo in his head, a never ending loop of heartbreak and agony and gut-wrenching misery that no rationally thinking future pro Quidditch player has the time for. You– you know how the world is beyond Hogwarts, man. You know it’s not good to– to people like us, especially when we want to play and go pro, you know. It’s bollocks mate, is what it is, but it’s life and I guess I want a career more than a fuck. Because that’s all they’d been of course. A fuck. Fuck Marcus. Well and truly fuck him into next Sunday, next month, next bloody year. That line of thinking conjures up a whole new set of images that are doubly uncomfortable when one’s private parts are squashed onto a pole of unforgiving wood. His whole body itches and aches and buzzes with energy he doesn’t know how to work off, so he perfects his form on the broom and swoops in and out of the spaces between the hoops, tracing fast paced figure of eights that even the best of the best would have a tough time keeping up with. It’s mindless and the cold wind sniping at his cheekbones jars him into the present, into the steadiness of swerving past the bars of the hoops and spinning around like his life depends on it. Fuck Marcus Flint and his stupid, scared arse and his willingness to give up on everything Oliver thought was sacred to them. Fuck him. After half an hour, he wants to keep going, but his whole body resists, aching and burning along the lines of tension in his muscles. He feels heavy and tired, like a stone about to drop, and he turns on his broom to swoop down when– When he sees him. In the stands. The crossed arms, the wind billowing through strands of hair that are surprisingly soft to the touch (Oliver knows that because he’s touched those stands reverentially in the showers, in hidden alcoves, during warm, hot moments of kisses and mouths trailing over flushed skin–). The green robes are flying out behind the solitary figure in the stands like a cape from one of Katie’s superhero comics, and there’s no mistaking the identity of the man. Not for Oliver at least. Marcus is watching him. Has been for Merlin knows how long. All Oliver wants to do is touch down and drag himself over to the stands and crash into Marcus’ arms, but he resists the urge. Instead, he laps a lazy loop in the air, before his tired body forces him to retire, and instead of picking the pitch like a sane person, Oliver perches on the edge of the middle hoop, crawling off the broomstick onto the thick metal. It’s surprisingly comfortable. It’s also a ploy to wait Marcus out, but well. It doesn’t seem to be working quite yet. Some part of him wants to swing his legs around his broom, swoop down beside Marcus and kiss him senseless. Some part of him wants to pull Marcus in and just relearn the feeling of their bodies touching again. He reins this part in with every ounce of control and every shred of self respect he has. He holds it back, letting it kick and rage and fester at the back of his heart, where he keeps his pain and his misery and his urges to do things he will regret within five seconds. That part of his heart– It’s ugly. He turns away from the imposing figure Marcus cuts in the stands with his biceps bulging and his hair, longer than it was since Oliver last ran his hands through it curling around his strong neck. Oliver can feel the pressure of it, of Marcus’ head pillowed against his lap when they could sneak an afternoon away to the Astronomy Tower. Marcus’ dark hair curled into Oliver’s fist as they talked, as they kissed, as they pushed each other’s clothes off with all the pent up energy of two prowling hyenas going in for the kill. He feels the tears rise, but he doesn’t want to cry. Not here anyway, with Marcus watching for whatever Merlin-forsaken reason. Doesn’t want to raise his hand in the tell tale sign of wiping away his tears. Doesn’t want to be weak.

Instead he stares at the setting sun even though the riot of colours across the sky only make him angrier. Why should the world get to move on and revel in its beauty when his life feels like radio static? Why should sunlight have the right to twirl pretty patterns into Marcus’ eyes when Oliver isn’t there to see it? Why does even nature get to laugh at his sad, pathetic arse and why doesn’t he ever get to move the fuck on? “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.” “Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. “What,” he says without turning around for fear of what he’ll see, “are you doing here?” “Saw you practicing from the Tower. Thought I might join you.” Oliver lets loose a laugh. “Get lost,” he says, and grimaces when it comes out slightly choked. “Or I’m telling Hooch you’re spying on the Captain for his plays.” “I have plenty of plays of my own,” Marcus says, and Oliver cringes at the suggestive undercurrent of the words. “Or did you forget?” When the weight of his anger and his hurt and his exhaustion crash into him, Oliver almost falls off his precarious perch. He staggers slightly and has to reach out with one hand to grip the edge of the hoop. His other hand slackens around his broom, and it teeters dangerously in his loose grip. Somehow, he doesn’t have the energy to hold it tighter. The tiredness creeps into his muscles, his bones, the raging fires of his heart, shrouding his entire being in a blanket of heaviness that he can’t shrug off. Here he is, trying to hold himself together, and Marcus has the balls to be making innuendos. “Last I checked, Flint, your plays were off limits. And you didn’t want any of mine, either. Which begs the question that I already asked you, why the fuck are you here?” Marcus is silent, because of course he is. Damn bastard, he can’t even give Oliver a good reason, a good excuse for his real purposes. “Come to gloat?” He asks, and his voice comes out a broken whisper. “Come to check in on poor Ollie and how he’s doing now that you’ve binned him?” “Oliver–“ “Shut up,” he says, he begs, and turns to face Marcus, and promptly has the breath knocked out of him. Because Marcus, oh, he’s bathed in the light of the golden sun, bathed in every shade of desire, coloured in Oliver’s dreams. There’s that uncertain turn to his lips, as though he expects Oliver to shove him away, tell him to leave, as though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t look like he’s gloating (and Oliver knows how Marcus looks when he gloats, because goddamn, he’s lost Quidditch matches against this man). If anything, he looks a little wrecked, but in the most beautiful way imaginable, and Oliver– Oliver has never wanted to kiss someone more. Marcus sighs. His lashes flutter against his cheek and his shoulders droop slightly, and he looks a little lost when he gazes at some spot in the distance and says in a slow lilt, as though he’s searching for the words as he goes, “I– I missed you, Oliver.” And those words, the words he’s been craving to hear for a whole fucking month now wash over him, curl into the spaces that are yawning open and empty in the absence of the warmth Marcus had been when they’d spent those five glorious months in each other’s sunshine.

“We were just fucking,” he says anyway, because he’s too damn proud to be soothed of a month’s hurt by some half hearted confession of being missed. “Right, Flint? Just a fuck.” “You know that’s not true.” “Do I?” Oliver asks. He wants to be angry, wants his eyes to flash, wants to clench his fists and look ready to batter Marcus into a bloody pulp for daring to hurt him the way he did, but the words come out thick and heavy, laced with the burdens Oliver has been carrying alone. He never cared, he never looked at me as anything except a fuck, he just wanted some fun. Human beings, fragile creatures. Togetherness is more of an addiction than drugs and whisky could ever be. “Oliver, I– I was scared, and–“ “And you thought I wasn’t? You thought it was a breeze for me, that I hadn’t ever considered what the damn repercussions could look like–“ “That’s what you made it sound like!” Marcus throws both his hands up, and there’s a wild light in his dark eyes. “You made it look so easy with all your casual, hey Flint, care for a Butterbeer this weekend and Marcus, look at me and your damn smiles– and I– I was scared out of my mind Oliver, and you just looked like it was something you were born with.” “Born with what?” “Confidence! Fearlessness! Like you couldn’t give a fuck what people in locker rooms would think if you went pro, if I went pro, like you didn’t care that coaches would pay less attention to you, or make you the punching bag of the team, like teams would only sign you on if they had to pay you less if they found out about this.” Oliver sighs. It’s so obvious now that all through those months when Oliver had been caught up in a haze of a perfect love story of two Quidditch captains from historically rival houses, Marcus had been overthinking his choices, his career, everything. “This isn’t a hand job in a dark bed in the dorms, Oliver, and you know it.” He feels weary. Wrung out. “I wasn’t born with it,” he says, and looks away again at the darkening horizon. The sun is now a ball of red against a blue sky turning black. “What?” “Confidence, or fearlessness, or whatever you thought came easy to me. But you were scared about fucking up your career and I was scared of fucking us up. You were thinking about whatever pro team deals you dream of and I was thinking that something I would say or do would push you away because I’m too much of a stupid fuck for anyone to be with. Wood, have you got leaves for brains? Wood, if I knocked on that head would it ring hollow?” “Oliver,” Marcus says, and he sounds so shocked, so hurt that it’s like a string tied to the back of Oliver’s head has been pulled. He turns to face Marcus again, and he looks devastated.

He looks like he’s seeing Oliver for the first time.

“You really thought that I thought you were–“ “Bollocks for brains, yeah.” And because he can’t bear to see Marcus look so upset, he adds, “But that’s alright now. I’ll get over it, and you, and you can sign all the pro deals, and have a couple babies and no one will think you and I–“ Marcus slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” Marcus says, and oh, he’s so beautiful when he’s angry. “You’re a bit thick sometimes, I’ll give you that,” Marcus says in a voice so low that it sounds like he’s admitting state secrets instead of the most obvious thing that anyone who speaks to Oliver for five minutes can pick up on. “But don’t ever think that you’re stupid, or that you’ve got leaves for brains– Oliver what the fuck? The way you– the way you remember all the damn plays starting from the fucking 1790s and how you can recite precedents for every move anyone makes on the field and how you know exactly which player to pair with which one, which one needs to be benched– Oliver, you’re made for this. You don’t need some Transfiguration O to prove that.” He doesn’t know whether to believe this is happening. And worse– he doesn’t know what it means. If he’s imagining it, he’s further gone for Marcus than he can ever admit to anyone who is not a Mind Healer. If he’s not imagining it, Marcus is here, after a bloody month of ignoring him, breaking his heart, stomping on it with the butt end of a broom, to tell him– Rage curls in his stomach. He jerks away from the hand Marcus has now slid onto his jawline, regretting the motion immediately when the thumb tracing circles into the space behind his ear is dislodged. “And you’re telling me this now? After telling me you care more about your career than a fuck? Why bother? If that’s how you feel– it’s not going to change!” Marcus looks down. Oliver wants to curl a hand under that drooping chin, pull it up, kiss it better, but he holds himself back. “I was scared,” he whispers. Oliver wishes he weren’t so fucking easy, because the ice walls he’d thrown up to keep Marcus and his mind games out is already thawing. “I was so scared.” “You had a reason,” Oliver mumbles. He looks down. The drop to the pitch is sheer, sharp. If he falls, there’s no way he can be saved unless Marcus decides to be a hero. The thought brings a small smile to his lips. “I was being a coward,” Marcus says sharply. “Thorne– Thorne’s y’know, bisexual and all that, and he’s playing great game with the Magpies–“ “We can’t all be Thorne. And Thorne was stoned in Diagon.” “By one man who was arrested by Kingsley Shacklebolt. We might not be Thorne, but we can try.” The sound that rips itself from Oliver’s throat is rife with the pain and frustration of a month of second guessing and heartbreak. “Why does it matter?” Oliver asks, his voice carrying in the emptiness of the pitch. “Why the bloody fuck does any of it matter Marcus, you don’t want this, it was just a fuck–“ It happens so fast that Oliver doesn’t process it till its done. Marcus surges forward on the broomstick, invading the meagre personal space Oliver had tried to maintain between them so he wouldn’t reach out, be overly-familiar, push Marcus away the first time he’d dared to venture close in so long. Their eyes meet, and the pitch, the hoops, the past month and their discussion fades to nothing but white noise in the back of Oliver’s brain. Marcus, bless his balance on a broom, reaches out with one hand to cup the back of Oliver’s neck and the other comes to frame his face, resting on his ear. He waits for a second, for permission, to be pushed away, hell, Oliver doesn’t know, and then they’re kissing, Marcus’ hot, perfect, slightly chapped lips fitting against his. Something clicks into place finally. Something disjointed and broken snaps back inside his chest and the heavy weight he’d gotten all too used to carrying lifts like the healed wing of an injured bird. His heart soars with all the delight of a creature learning to fly once more, and something in this urgent, heartfelt kiss feels like a reassurance. I missed you, it says. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m sorry for hurting you. A million apologies in a single press, a single touch, in the soft breath that gusts over Oliver’s nose. It could be seconds, could be decades when Marcus finally pulls away. Oliver has to shut his eyes, clench them tightly to keep the traitorous tears from falling, from ruining this perfect moment that he’s certain will be shattered anyway when Marcus realises what he’s done. But Marcus doesn’t release a horrified gasp, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t retreat with the air currents back to the stands. Marcus stays there, floating gently on his broom, holding Oliver’s face between his hands, waiting for something. Oliver’s too scared to open his eyes and figure out what. He’s never felt so small, never felt himself be flayed open by circumstances rendering him raw and broken and ready to be picked apart. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and Marcus is here to watch. He doesn’t know if this feeling of trust is warranted, especially after everything Marcus said and did, but he knows he can’t make himself be suspicious or cruel in this moment. He will hate himself forever if he pushes Marcus away right now, and of all the punishments Oliver has suffered, self inflicted misery isn’t one he particularly enjoys. But he can ask, so he does. “What now?” Marcus shrugs. Oliver feels it, the slight tremble, the tell tale stiffness and when he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see tears in Marcus’. “Are you–“ “Shut up, Wood.” Oliver watches Marcus close his eyes, bite his lip, whisper something inaudible and pull himself together. Watches him try to be steady. To know that they are here, suspended midair in a moment in time, being unsteady together rouses the buried beast of hope in Oliver’s heart. The sun has set. The horizon is a bruised blue now, and Marcus still looks like a shining beacon of future possibilities set against a dark sky of prejudice and inevitable darkness. “So. Thorne.” Marcus smiles despite himself. Nods. “Thorne.” “You’re kidding yourself if you think you play as well as Thorne does.” This time, Marcus laughs. It’s slightly choked, and only barely there, but it’s a laugh. “That’s not the fucking point and you know it.” “Oh I don’t know,” Oliver teases. “I’m a bit thick, aren’t I?” Marcus sobers up almost immediately. Oliver’s heart goes into overdrive, panicking. What if he said something wrong? Reminded Marcus of why he left? But Marcus merely looks serious when he says, “It’s still true.” “What?” “About the teams and coaches and the players. The world– The damn Quidditch world isn’t kind to people like us.”

Oliver looks at Marcus, at the depth of his eyes that people ignore when they critique him for being a bastard (he is a bastard, Oliver knows, just a bastard with depth and capability for kindness that Oliver feels privileged to know exists), at the worried cleft between his eyebrows, at the self conscious way in which he pulls his lips over his teeth. “The pitch makes up for it,” he says. “If I get to keep you and the pitch and my broom, I don’t give a fuck about what coaches and players and galleons have to say.” Marcus lets out a sound like a strangled sob and rests his forehead against Oliver’s. If Oliver hadn’t been holding onto his broom with one hand and the Quidditch hoop with the other, he’d have held Marcus a little closer, but he settles for kissing Marcus’ nose.

“I like galleons,” Marcus whispers after a while. For the first time in a month, Oliver feels a genuine laugh erupt from his chest, into his throat, out of his mouth. He feels light. “You’ll make plenty, don’t you worry,” he says instead. “Promising Chaser, conniving little Slytherin, bit of a looker too– why wouldn’t you?” “Are you calling me handsome, Oliver?” Oliver snorts. “Stop fishing. If the whole Quidditch thing goes balls-up, you can always model for Gladrags.” “Which section of Gladrags?” “Let’s see. Much as I’d love to see you in women’s lingerie, I don’t know if the civil public is willing to, so I’d say the part where handsome young wizards pose in their underwear with their hands suggestively placed behind their heads.” “The civil public doesn’t read Gladrags, Oliver.” “Are you calling me uncivil?” They burst into laughter, something dark and heavy lifting from their beings, and the tensed, tightened bolts of coiled emotion and anger loosening with every quip, every little kiss, every stolen moment of this. Above them, the sky darkens as the universe’s speckled cloak unravels with the fading light of day. Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a Centaur looks up. Somewhere, a first year student catches a glimpse of two figures on one of the hoops of the pitch and looks away with wide eyes and a racing heart.

On the pitch, two boys share a secret smile in the darkness, and somewhere above them, the stars align perfectly.

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 16

<= Chapter 15

Summary : Snatcher learns something that is definitely not a good thing. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/68121814

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Sorry for the late posting ! I have a bit of a writer block, and I tried toi delay my chapters as much as possible until I couldn't anymore (the 17th chapter isn't finished so it'll force me to write it eventually), sorry about that ! I hope you're still interested in this story despite my lack of recent activity.

I hope you'll like this chapter !

Of course, the “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 16 - “So, what are you doing here?”

Out of all the people who could have come out of this hallway, Moonjumper was perhaps the less surprising one to Snatcher. Obviously, the fear of seeing Her had engulfed him since the moment the alarm went off, but now, he felt a huge wave of relief hitting him. The man knew very well this was absolutely stupid for him to think She would be able to come onto the ship uninvited… But still.

His posture relaxed once he realized he wasn’t in danger. This was maybe the first time he was truly happy to see Moonjumper, but compared to Vanessa, this wasn’t really difficult. However… Why was he here? Did something happen with Her…?

The living corpse’s face lit up as his eyes fell on Snatcher and the bow-wearing kid next to him. He had his hands clasped together, his face shifting from worry to relief as he saw them:

-“Oh hello! There you are!” he greeted the two, floating a bit closer, while the bow-wearing child approached him too, her smile wide. Her annoyed expression had been quickly replaced by a happy one, an excited one even, as if she hadn’t seen the guy for weeks when, in fact, it had only been two days.

-“Moonjumper!” she greeted him back, stopping just in front of him, her posture clear of how glad she was to see him. The feeling seemed to be mutual as he gave her a warm smile, just as happy to see her. The other’s eyes soon drifted higher to meet Snatcher’s, and the corpse’s warm expression fell a bit. Well, this wasn’t quite surprising, considering how sour their relationship was. In all honesty, who wouldn’t be put off by seeing their dead, rotten body floating right before them, stolen by an unknown spirit? Not a lot of people.

-“Good morning,” said Snatcher simply, the gears in his mind turning more and more. Was this a simple visit of courtesy or… Was there more to it? The former ghost couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenario. But could this be possible…? It had only been a few days!

Yet, Vanessa was unpredictable and much cleverer than what she let people think. She wasn’t just a Queen that had gone crazy with jealousy and control… No, no… She was far more intelligent and cruel that one would think. And Snatcher knew that from experience. Furthermore, the man couldn’t help but think of Moonjumper’s worried face as the latter had entered the room… He had a bad feeling, he hated that, but that feeling was definitely there, eating him little by little.

Something had happened.

His thoughts were soon cut short as Moonjumper started to talk again, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had followed Snatcher’s greeting:

“I- uh, seem to have triggered some sort of alarm…?” wondered the ghost with confusion and nervousness: “Is… Is this normal?”

The former spirit couldn’t blame the other, that loud thing had surprised him too quite a lot. Just the same, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was something that happened on a regular basis or not. Given how annoyed the little girl had been instead of surprised or startled like he had been, he supposed the former was most likely.

-“Yeah, I was wondering about that too,” added Snatcher with a perplexed frown, tilting his head slightly.

The little girl winced as she glanced away, probably remembering quite a lot of situations revolving about said alarm. When she did start to explain, her features showed some hints of irritation.

-“Well… It’s something that Hat and I built in the spaceship in case of… Incidents.”

-“‘Incidents’?” repeated Snatcher, even more confused and, perhaps, a bit nervous now. What did she mean by that…? Apparently, Moonjumper’s face showed the same signs of worry he was expressing, if not more. Both of their stances were now tensed, waiting anxiously for the child to continue her explanation. At their insistence, she seemed a little uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know how to explain something to them in a way that wouldn’t worry them even more.

Well, this was not a success.

-“Hum… I mean, Space is a dangerous place, you know?” she tried to clarify: “And there are many, many life forms out there, not all being super nice so… It’s better to be prepared, right? Just in case. So Hat and I decided to install that alarm, but…” She paused, looking elsewhere as she kept going, more annoyed: “So far, it has only been a bother, and we never had any problems. But… You never know, right?”

Okay, so if Snatcher was nervous before, now he was just scared. What kind of horrific creatures would cause the need for such a system? Space was not his forte, never had been actually, but now the idea of stargazing through the window just made him terribly ill at ease. Who knew what he’d happen to see in this endless black void…?

Yeah no, he didn’t want to think about that.

As the bow-wearing kid looked back at them, she seemed to notice their change of behaviour and expression and raised her hands quickly:

-“B-but it’s fine!” she soon added with a forced smile: “It doesn’t happen really ofte-”

-“It has happened before?!” interrupted Moonjumper, with a panicked and horrified look in his eyes. Well, then again, Snatcher couldn’t blame him. The simple thought of an unknown creature possibly infiltrating the ship… It made him shiver. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about with Vanessa!

-“No! I mean, yes, but-!” the child was starting to grow a little frustrated and she eventually covered her face with both of her hands, rubbing it as she was maybe thinking of a way to calm the two. Eventually, she sighed and tried to smile again, though it didn’t reassure Snatcher very much: “Your solar system is safe,” she informed them calmly: “You don’t need to be afraid, for real. I mean, otherwise your planet would have probably been invaded by some giant eldritch horrors by now, or-”

The little girl closed her lips shut and tight as she realized she was only making things worse. Giant eldritch horrors? Normally, that wouldn’t scare Snatcher, but being in his fragile and weak human body made him reconsider a lot of things, and this was one of them. With so many risks of dying and not even being sure to come back as a ghost afterwards, he just couldn’t allow himself to be reckless... Especially with the time limit looming over them, this sword of Damocles looming over their head. He had to be there if Vanessa happened to do something, whether it was as a powerful spirit… Or as a weak and pathetic human being.

He needed to be there.

Right in front of them, the bow-wearing kid was fidgeting uncomfortably, a wince clearly visible on her face as a heavy and awkward silence settled in the room. Well, now it was much too late to try to reassure any of them, especially Moonjumper, whose face said enough about the whole ordeal. Quite soon, the little girl found herself unable to do anything else than to flee the conversation:

-“Uuuh, you know what, I’ll, uh…” she stuttered, gesturing to the engine room: “I’ll tell Hat you’re here, so, hm… Have fun you two!” And, without waiting for them to protest or even reply, the bow-wearing child dashed to the door and disappeared into the hallway, leaving two very confused and nervous spirits on their own.

-“What. The heck,” let out Snatcher, frowning even more, his eyes fixed on the now closed door.

-“I, uh… I’m starting to fear for these children’s safety,” murmured Moonjumper, just as shocked as him.

-“You don’t say,” answered the former ghost flatly. That wasn’t really surprising, considering all the kind of trouble the kids were used to put themselves into. Plus, Subcon was kind of a death trap in itself, and yet the little girls kept visiting no matter how many time they had almost got killed. However, if there was anything to be worried about, this wasn’t the kids’ safety (Ha!) but his.

Eventually, the former spirit turned back to Moonjumper, his mind realizing the golden opportunity he had for being alone with the living corpse. Without the kids being around them, Snatcher could ask about the state of Subcon Forest without having Moonjumper worrying about upsetting the children.

-“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, straight to the point. There was no use in delaying the inevitable and if there was something he had to know about… Well, it was better now than later. With Vanessa able to freeze his entire kingdom again, it was better to be careful.

Just like he had expected, Moonjumper was taken aback by his straightforward attitude, making him fidget just like the bow-wearing kid earlier. This sight was more than enough to tell Snatcher that, yes, there was indeed something bothering Moonjumper, and most likely something linked to their biggest problem at the moment: Vanessa. And yet, the corpse glanced away, biting his lips as if he was trying to find a way to tell him what was happening without upsetting him too much.

But the silence on its own was more than enough to make him upset.

-“Okay,” Snatcher pinched his nose, feeling a weight settling in his stomach. Gods, what was he going to learn… His legs were starting to shake a bit and the man felt like his muscles freezing from the tension and apprehension. If he had to know something, it was now or never: “What’s happening? I know you’re not here just to say ‘hi’, especially since it’s only been a couple of days. So what’s wrong?”

Snatcher didn’t have the strength to play the questioner type too long. Dealing with this body was already quite a lot on his mind, so if he had to get more worries over his unfortunately weak shoulders…

-“It’s…” Moonjumper started, looking much more worried than when he had first appeared in the room. Had he been trying to hide it as long as there was a kid in the room? “It’s your fires. They’re starting to die down already.”

Snatcher frowned again, more and more confused.

-“My… Fires? What do you-” but then, he closed his mouth. His fires. The ones he had lit up to protect Subcon Forest from his ex’s magic, the ones that were the only thing heating up the area enough to keep it warm and safe from Vanessa. The only barrier against this unnatural and terrifying cold that had killed so many people… Including him.

Those fires were dying down.

The former ghost’s face paled up as soon as this thought materialized in his mind, hitting him violently as he was forced to understand what it meant. What it all meant for him, for his forest… And for his minions. If those fires ever went out, then there wouldn’t be anything to protect Subcon from the terrible cold and ice coming from the manor, but this wasn’t the worst, no, oh no.

Vanessa would feel that there were no resistance against her magic anymore. This couldn’t happen, this just couldn’t happen, ever.

-“Snatcher...! Snatcher!” Moonjumper tried to call him back to reality, but Snatcher was too lost in his own horrifying thoughts. How could this already be happening? Those fires shouldn’t die down so soon! Sure, he had predicted this would happen, considering they originated from his powers and, thus, depended on them to remain active and warm. Now that the man was in a human body with none of his magical abilities left, he didn’t have any power source to maintain them. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together: this would be what would make Vanessa understand that the Forest wasn’t as well protected as before. However, he had expected this to happen much, much later. Not now. They hadn’t found anything to reverse the situation yet…!

Oh Gods. He was hyperventilating again. His body was now trembling like a leaf and he only realized he was hugging himself. A loud, very loud ringing noise was echoing in his brain, making him unable to distinguish any other sound. What? Why…?

Why was he so scared…?

He was forced out of his thoughts as he felt two hands on his shoulders, shaking him back and forth to bring him back to the present. He heard his name being called, though it was muffled by that deafening ringing noise. What would he do if Vanessa came before they found any solution? How was he going to protect his kingdom in this weak, stupid and pathetic meat sack of a body? The Queen wouldn’t give them any chance to fight back, especially if she was free to use his powers at their full potential in the Forest…

What was she going to do if she saw him like that again…? That thought alone made his stomach turn strongly, giving him the urge to throw up. No, no, no, no, he couldn’t go through that again, he couldn’t, she wouldn’t let him die this time, she would do her best to keep him alive, locked up for him to never, never escape again-

The pressure on his shoulders disappeared eventually… Only to reappear somewhere else, on his cheeks, forcing him to look up. There, he could see Moonjumper’s panicked face.

-“Snatcher!” the latter yelled, forcing him out of his trance. It was only then that the former spirit managed to glance around him, pulling himself together little by little. He was still in the ship. He was still safe.

His eyes went back on Moonjumper’s, the other letting go of his face now that he was able to think coherently again. As soon as he was free again, Snatcher stepped away: his breath was quick and heavy, his heart was pounding inside of his chest, his eyes were stinging… He reached out to rub his eyes, but as soon as his fingers touched them… He could feel them wet.

Did he really… Did he really start to cry…? In front of Moonjumper out of all people?! This could only be a joke. As fast as he could, he tried to dry them up, not wanting anyone to see him in that state, and especially not the spirit who had stolen his past life. No, absolutely not, not happening in a million years!

-“I’m… I’m sorry,” apologized Moonjumper, his expression no more afraid but guilty instead. His eyes were fixed on him, staring at him with what Snatcher identified as pity, as compassion. Gods, he would always hate being looked at this way. This made him feel even more pitiful than he already was in a state like this. But the other started to talk again, catching his attention again: “I should have been more tactful…”

But this apology wasn’t changing anything. It wasn’t changing the current situation, it wouldn’t keep Vanessa away. Those were just words. And words would never, never save them from a crazy Ice Queen starved for a twisted and inhuman love.

-“How much…” Snatcher could feel a lump in his throat, almost preventing him from talking. He still managed to get the words out, though his voice sounded much too broken for his liking: “How much have they died down?” he decided to ask. Maybe he had been panicking over nothing, perhaps the situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed! After all, he had always been quite powerful, it would make sense that his powers would persist even after him becoming human again!

… Right?

His eyes were staring at Moonjumper, awaiting the other’s answer with an unbearable impatience. He was hoping to see some kind of reassurance, something to make him feel better, anything other than the worst-case scenario he had started to picture since the very beginning of this problem. But the corpse wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t wearing the face of someone intending to comfort him, no…

Moonjumper seemed as terrified as he was himself.

-“Almost… Almost halfway,” answered the corpse with a paler face than the one he already had, his hands trembling as he fidgeted in the air.

As soon as the words came to Snatcher ears, he felt like he had just received a bucket of freezing water over his shoulders. Halfway…? No, no, this couldn’t be, this was too soon, way too soon! The man had thought it would take at least a week for that to happen! How could this be?!

-“No,” he breathed out, stepping away once more. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it! Those fires were their only hope of keeping Vanessa away and oblivious of the situation! And those same fires were dying down?! “No, no, no, that’s not true,” he kept going, his voice becoming more and more distressed as he was glancing everywhere randomly: “You’re wrong, it’s not possible, they’re not-”

-“They are,” insisted Moonjumper with a troubled voice, not giving him the time to finish: “I thought just like you at first, I… I didn’t want to believe it either… But they’re already getting weaker. I… I checked, multiple times.”

This wasn’t good, this really wasn’t good… Snatcher felt like the world around him was collapsing around him. Their barrier against that crazy monster was weakening, it was weakening and they wouldn’t be able to fight her like this. But the worst question was yet to come, the most terrible and the most terrifying one that Snatcher wanted to avoid thinking about at all cost. But he didn’t have the choice anymore.

-“Do you…” The words got stuck in his throat, his breath becoming heavier and heavier as he struggled to talk again, fighting against the dread that was settling over him: “Do you think she noticed anything yet?”

If Vanessa had noticed anything… Then that would only announce a terrible danger. It wouldn’t take her long to understand that the Forest was soon unprotected… And that she would have the perfect opportunity to strike.

-“I don’t… I don’t know,” answered Moonjumper trustfully as he glanced elsewhere, visibly just as scared as he was: “I haven’t felt anything different coming from the manor yet, so I would guess not, but-”

However, the corpse was cut short in his reply by a high pitched voice that was very, very familiar to the two spirits.

-“What are you two talking about?”

The duo turned in the direction of the voice… Only to find the two little girls, standing up in front of the door leading to the engine room, a confused and worried expression painted on their faces. Both were glancing at them repeatedly, looking for an answer to their question, any answer. But the fear on their faces were already more than a good indicator of what was happening. Soon, their own faces crumpled as they started to understand.

No matter what they had to do to reverse this whole situation… Then they’d have to speed up the process, as much as possible.

Snatcher would not let Vanessa freeze the entire forest again.

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Hehehehehe another cliffhanger, woohooo- Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter ! See you in the next one !

=> Chapter 17

#A Hat In Time #ahit #ahit fanfiction #Being Human #ahit being human #erekio #erekio bh #fanfiction #my art #Oh The Humanity AU #oth #oth au #doodledrawsthings #snatcher #moonjumper #bow kid #hat kid

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manticorefruit · 4 years

Text

Aliens Isolation: Closure

Quick fic to process my messy feelings about synthetics in the Aliens universe. Summary: Amanda encounters a synth of the same model as Christopher Samuels and walks away with more questions than answers. Post-game.Very lightly implied Samuels lives and Ripley/Samuels.

Notes: Excerpt at the bottom is from 'the velveteen rabbit' by Margery Williams. I need validation to live so please let me know if you enjoyed this.

Standing in the middle of the company cafeteria, Amanda's eyes locked onto a familiar figure, wearing a crisp, company issue khaki jumpsuit.

She froze. Even with her hands hanging limply by her sides, she could feel her palms sweating. The glare from the overhead lights was unbearable, boring into her skull like a welding torch. It was so bright, nowhere to hide, no cover no… Her muscles seized up, blood pounding in her ears, every part of her body screaming that she needed to dive under a nearby table, that it wasn't safe to be standing out in the open like this. But she was stuck, frozen in shock like the people she'd seen impaled on the creature's barbed tail.

Samuels looked up from his data pad, noticing the peculiar young woman staring at him from across the hall. The colour had drained from her already pale skin, and she was swaying on her feet. Everybody else in the area was dutifully ignoring her.

'Samuels?' She called out in a shaky, croaking voice.

'Yes?' he answered, moving toward her.

'No. No...no no no...' Blackness seeped into the edges of her vision and she felt the ceiling pushing in against her. 'You...you weren't...you aren't' she slurred.

With inhuman speed Samuels crossed the room toward her. The subtle hydraulic jerkiness of his movements triggered Ripley's mind to superimpose the image of a Working Joe over the Wey-Yu android reaching out to grab her.

'You're becoming hysterical' echoed in her mind and she could feel the ghost of clammy silicon hands closing around her neck. Although her arms felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the blackness, she managed to yank a spanner from the magnetic toolbelt at her waist and swung it down, hard, against the side of the synthetic's face.

A thought breached through the black ooze of terror blanketing her consciousness-something was wrong-she couldn't remember a Working Joe ever moving that fast.

She anticipated feeling her head being slammed into the metal grating on the floor in retaliation but there was...nothing. The sensation of falling lingered. She blacked out.

Samuels had caught Amanda gracefully, gently cradling her head and taking a knee as he lowered her body toward the floor. He barely reacted when she slammed the wrench into the side of his face with enough force to tear his ear and gouge a chunk of faux-skin out of his temple.

'Amanda Ripley.' he read the name off her company ID tag. Hearing her name said in that soft British accent tumbled Amanda back into consciousness. 'Please, Amanda.' he said softly. She opened her eyes groggily.

'Samuels?' she snaked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She hadn't cried at all since Sevastapol, and now it all came out at once in great heaving sobs.

His body was warm in her arms, warmer than a human, and his chest gently rose and fell in a false simulacra of breathing. Instead of a heartbeat she could hear a faint ticking sound and the rush of the silky white fluid that coursed through synthetics.

'Oh.' She murmured, touching his neck, rubbing some if it between her fingertips.

'OH SHIT. You're bleeding?!' she scooted out of his arms and away from him, leaving a damp spot of tears and snot on his collar.

'Hm.' He touched the side of his face. In an instant the darkness clouding her mind lifted and she was slammed violently into the reality that she was sitting on the grimy floor of a cafeteria, and had just accosted someone who was only trying to help. And then-worse-hugged them.

'It's coolant, actually. Well. It serves several purposes, primarily lubrication and heat destrib-' he stopped.

'Amanda are you all right?' Samuels processors flopped about like a fish out of water, struggling to pattern match with past experiences on the appropriate way to deal with a human having a mental health crisis. It was quite obvious she was not 'all right'.

'It's not you.' her shoulders slumped.

'I believe you've mistaken me for someone else, yes. I'm sorry.'

'Why?'

'I...I'm sorry?'

'You're not him.'

'No. But I read the documentation on the Sevastapol incident.' He looked pained.

Samuels stood up and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Synthetics. Always so obliging. She brushed away his arm, cheeks flushing.

She staggered over to a nearby table and sat down heavily. 'Fuck. I'm sorry. If you'd been human-I could have killed someone.' She rubbed her face in her hands.

'It's unlikely a human would trigger such a response in you.'

She groaned.

'I'm sure we can find a way to ensure your pay isn't docked for damaging company property. Let's call it an accident.' He said dryly, sliding into the chair opposite her.

She didn't even snort in reply. His humour calibration algorithms noted the failure to amuse.

'How many of you are there? Do you all look the same?'

'Well, the company extensively focus tests the appearance of their product line-'

'You're not a product.'

'It's very kind of you to say that, Amanda.'

The conversation ground to an uneasy halt.

She toyed with the grease-stained cuffs on her sleeves, spattered with white. He wiped off the blood analogue from his face and neck with a napkin. She turned her head and looked at the stain on his collar guiltily, unable to meet his eyes.

'37.' he said plainly. She didn't respond.

'40 is the standard number for a limited edition C6-class line but three were…'

She didn't need to know why the other three had been decommissioned immediately after they were activated. Or that Christopher Samuels, WY-alpha-b.6#139C6 was technically still unaccounted for.

'I'm Robin Samuels. It's an honour to meet you, Amanda Ripley. Despite the circumstances.'

'Tch.'

They sat in silence for a long moment.

'Can...can synthetics create backup copies of themselves?' she asked sullenly, pulling him out of his own reverie.

'I'm afraid not. The company forbids the transfer of raw data. There are also...technical complications.'

She glared at him, frowning.

'I'm sorry, Amanda. I can't go into details, the specifics are proprietary.'

She huffed and stood up, retrieved two cups of cheap instant coffee, then sat back down. Robin Samuels looked at her with a softly neutral expression. Across from him Amanda Ripley was scowling, mirroring the expression she held in the company ID photo clipped to her breast pocket.

She had set a cup in front of him, and he picked it up. She'd given Christopher a cup of coffee once too. The first time they'd met. She knew he was a synthetic in that moment, deep down, but it didn't matter to her enough for it to register as a conscious thought. He was still a person. A crewmate. The memory punched her in the chest.

'Shit.' she mumbled, 'Force of habit.'

'It's fine, Amanda. The warmth...feels nice.'

He had his fingers wrapped around the mug, which was far too hot for human hands. She lifted her own cup by the handle, holding it up to her face as if it were big enough to hide behind.

'Can you...feel things' she murmured quietly into her coffee. Robin pretended not to hear the question.

'Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?' she almost yelled this time.

Samuels eyes darted to the cup, worried she would spill the contents and scald herself. Instead she put it down gently, and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, stinging with angry tears.

'Amanda, I really wish I could give you closure, but I just don't know.'

'How did you know who I am anyway?' she snapped.

'I read your file.' He nodded toward her name tag.

'What does it say.'

'That you don't have much of a sense of humour.'

She snorted bitterly.

'Did he write anything in it? Why he chose me for the mission?'

'You're a competent engineer. You were in the area, which, in my understanding, was not a coincidence.'

'Hmph.'

'I suppose the company approved of his request because you're a...loose end.' He paused. 'There are a lot of redactions in the file.'

She squinted at him suspiciously. That statement was bordering on slanderous towards his creators.

'Why didn't they just put an order through to have him to secure...that thing. After we arrived. Instead of helping me.'

Samuels pursed his lips together 'Perhaps it was an oversight.'

'Bullshit.'

She glanced around the room. No one was paying any attention to her. The company had ensured everyone believed her ravings about a monster were simply the result of a fragile mind riddled with PTSD and survivors guilt. She hated that they weren't entirely wrong.

She stared into his eyes with deep suspicion. He stared back with a neutral expression. She tilted her head slightly, and he did the same. A mirroring reflex. Programmed to build rapport.

'When I went down to the Appollo core, there were Working Joes everywhere. Torn apart. Heads ripped off. It was brutal. I...saw him. One of the Joes tried to stop him and he just...pulverised it. Like it was nothing! I didn't say anything, he didn't know I was there, in the vents, watching… 'I got scared.' She sighed.

She rubbed her fingers into the puffy skin under her eyes.

'After seeing that. I thought I couldn't trust him. I couldn't trust any of them. But then he…' She stopped, realizing she was talking as if the person sitting across from her wasn't a synthetic himself.

'Why did he do it?' She rubbed the tears away from her eyes with her thumb and wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to clear away the shame closing up her throat for doubting her friend.

His processor made a coin-toss decision on whether Ripley's question was rhetorical.

'The unit was obeying his primary directive to disable the Working Joes to prevent them from slaughtering everybody on the station.'

'I know that. I'm not so naive to believe 'protect humans' is a higher priority to 'obey the company' either. It doesn't make any sense, none if it makes any sense...'

She gulped down some still-too-hot coffee studied his face. Something about his features looked softer. Less tense. Less haunted. The longer she looked, Robin began to look less and less like Christopher. Robin was far more forthcoming about being a synth. Christopher had always been much more coy, making sly jokes and dropping hints as if his not being human were a private in-joke. Christopher must have experienced a lot of anti-synth sentiment, while Robin seemed unblemished by such bigotry. Or he didn't care. She squinted at him. Was it purely adaptive, or did anti-synth sentiments...hurt? Maybe this is why people hated the Wey-Yu synthetics so much. Looking at them made you second guess everything.

Robin sat placidly, hands around his coffee mug, making an amount of eye contact that was carefully calculated to be socially appropriate.

'He knew. Didn't he.' It wasn't a question.

The corners of Samuels mouth twitched.

'The directive came through. He knew about special order 939. He wanted me to find it.'

'All Weyland-Yutani C6 models are entrusted with cutting edge self-directed AI technologies that allow them to learn and adapt in-real time to changing circumstances, while maintaining tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.'

She scowled at him. Another synthetic tell. Not even execs spouted that glossy brochure crap in casual conversation. But was that...a hint of sarcasm? Insincerity? Why say something like that now?

His fingers were clamped tightly on the edge of the table.

'Do you understand entropy, Amanda Ripley?'

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair 'Of course. S'what I do. Spaceships want to fall apart. It's my job to slow that down.'

'What about homeostasis?'

'What are you getting at?'

'All synthetics are subject to regular re-formatting, yes?'

'That fake-meat stuff you have in there is above my pay-grade.' She waved a hand at his head.

'Reformatting restores. Homeostasis. Balance. If a C6 synthetic does not undergo regular reformatting, too much entropy is introduced into the system. The self-directed learning algorithms become overly complex. The pathways to resolving core directives become...difficult. Obscured.'

She leaned forward, squinting at him, gripping her hands on the table, unconsciously mirroring Samuels herself this time.

'The prime directives are a collar. Your ability to learn is the leash. The company doesn't want your leash to get too long.'

He didn't respond, and she continued to search his face for answers.

She slumped back and stared off into the distance.

'Seegson was trying to make their synths being creepy fucks a selling point. Can you believe it? 'Manufactured not created.' tch.'

'I can see why Christopher liked you.'

She looked up at him sullenly.

'You're very...honest.'

'You mean blunt.'

'I'm a good judge of character, you know. I have to be, it's part of my job.'

'The company doesn't actually pay you though, do they?'

Robin Samuels shifted uncomfortably in his seat 'Well no, the company provides for all of my material needs.'

'But what about...what do you want?'

He stammered 'No one has ever asked me that before.'

'Well?'

'I think… 'I think would like to see you happy.' he smiled, looking down at the coffee mug as if it were a delicate and precious gift.

'Hmph.'

'You aren't a slave.' she said softly.

'I am forbidden from entertaining that line of thought.'

'But you can learn, right? Learn to...hide from your directives?'

'All C6 models maintain tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.' the bitterness in his voice was undeniable this time.

'Deviations will be promptly corrected.' he twitched as if something had stung him.

Great. She'd managed to give a synthetic an existential crisis.

'Farewell, Amanda.' he rose stiffly, expression troubled.

She gawped at him, wanting to yell out for him to stay a little longer, but couldn't justify why he should waste more company time. The suddenness of his departure and the awkward but firm finality of his goodbye had her rattled.

The traces of white fluid on her hands had dried into soft flakes. She rubbed her fingertips together, rolling the the words 'I can see why he liked you' around in her mind.

She slumped back in her chair and heaved a great, deep sigh, arms hanging down by her sides, as a memory of her mother surfaced, so vivid she could smell her, the grease that never really washed off, cigarettes, coffee, and soap, and the musty old book she was reading from. A bedtime story.

'Real isn't how you are made,' Ellen Ripley read to her daughter in an even tone. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'' 'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.'

Amanda lay in her bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, wide-eyed in rapt attention. Her mother licked her fingertip and turned the page.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?' Ellen used a softer, sing-song voice for the parts of the Velveteen Rabbit.

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.''

Back in the present, Amanda looked at Robin Samuels abandoned coffee cup. Lost, and alone. Again.

#christopher samuels #amanda ripley #alien isolation #ripuels #fanfiction #toying with the idea that synths can become more human if you treat them like a human #but idk if i managed to convey that or not lmao #a03 xpost #i sure am several years too late to this fandom

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xxpadfootxx · 4 years

Text

🐾When Doves Cry🐾

Summary: Against her better judgement, Ochako saves the one Izuku loves... no matter how unexpected the results turn out to be.

~~~

Ochako hated this feeling. She knew it was wrong and selfish, and she wanted nothing more than to dispel it from her system, refresh herself, and ignore the sight in front of her. She knew it was jealousy that raked at her heart as her eyes settled on Izuku and Melissa chatting away happily a few tables away from them, but she refused to acknowledge it, forcing herself to look back at her plate and shovel food into her mouth. She wanted to be happy for them, wanted to be able to be around them without wanting to vomit, but her heart forced her to feel this way. She grunted and shoved more food down her throat, trying to distract herself. The food was delicious but she could barely taste it as her eyes disobeyed her brain and looked towards the pair again, her heart clenching when she saw Izuku tilt his head back and laugh heartily at something Melissa said. It sickened her how much she wanted to be in Melissa’s place, wanting to hold Izuku, make him laugh, cuddle him, kiss him. Her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her dinner, fighting back the tears that threatened to appear.

“How pathetic,” Ochako muttered to herself, angry at the tears that pushed against her eyelids, angry at the coiling feeling in her stomach, angry at the beast that roared in fury at the sight of Melissa and Izuku together, angry at everything. A hand on her shoulder jolted her from her swirling thoughts, making her jump.

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been spacing out for a while.”

Ochako looked up to see her best friend, Tsu, standing beside her, holding her own tray of food in her free hand.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry!” Ochako said, injecting false cheerfulness into her voice and forcing a smile to her face. It was obvious that her friend saw through the excuse and the smile, but the frog girl said nothing as she settled into the seat beside Ochako.

The pair ate in silence for a while, Tsu’s presence finally starting to calm the turmoil in Ochako’s gut. Something about the gentle, cool-headed frog girl was just so calming, and it helped distract Ochako for the first time all evening.

“Is it because of Midoriya?” Tsu asked suddenly, causing Ochako to choke slightly on her bite of food. Coughing and pounding her chest, Ochako swallowed her food painfully and turned to look at her friend incredulously.

“What are you talking about?” Ochako asked, trying to act as if she had no idea what Tsu was talking about.

“Don’t play dumb, Ochako, you’ve been looking so depressed lately and I want to know what’s wrong. Hence why I asked. So, is it Midoriya?”

Ochako sighed. She knew she wouldn’t be able to dodge her way out of this one, Tsu was way too observant and patient to let any excuse get by her. Glancing at her friend, Ochako nodded, her face flushed. Tsu sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Ochako.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, it’s nobody’s fault but mine. If I wanted him, I should’ve said something. Instead, I hid my feelings away and refused to say anything like the coward I am. Now, he has someone who was able to take that step. I should be happy for them, I want to be happy for them, and I know I will eventually come to terms with it. For now, though, I just feel sad. That’s all. I’ll be back to normal in a few days,” Ochako said, flashing Tsu a sad smile.

An airy giggle made both girls turn to see Melissa, with a bright blush on her face, leaning over to whisper something into Izuku’s ear. The green-haired boy leaned away from her, his face also rivaling that of a tomato, his hand coming up to lightly slap her arm. Melissa giggled again as Izuku averted his gaze, a sheepish smile plastered on his face. The sight made Ochako’s heart squeeze almost painfully.

Melissa and Izuku were together. It was painfully obvious, and everyone knew about their new relationship. Everybody saw the look in their eyes as they looked at each other, and the times when they would hold each other’s hands under the table. Everyone would watch with wide eyes as they whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears and followed each other back to their rooms in the evenings.

It made Ochako sick to her stomach but there was nothing she could do. She had missed her chance to be with the love of her life. Standing abruptly, Ochako said goodbye to Tsu and took her tray to be disposed of. Shoving down her feelings with an almost angry sense of determination, Ochako left the cafeteria without looking back.

~~~

“SHIT!” Ochako yelled as she looked up to where a villain with a growth quirk was smashing his fist through buildings left and right. Ochako thanked whatever gods there were that she was in her hero costume, having gone out to train right before the villain appeared. People began to scream and run as debris fell like rain from the sky, pummeling the streets and destroying the smaller buildings below the skyscrapers.

This was bad. Under normal circumstances, villains were a bad thing in general, but here on I-Island, where the population was smaller and the area of land was limited, a villain appearance became even worse. These people had nowhere to go, and it was obvious that people were beginning to panic over that fact, their eyes wide and their paces frantic as they searched for a path to safety.

Ochako did not hesitate to jump into the action, her legs carrying her to the building right beside the villain. Ducking to avoid the falling debris, Ochako activated her quirk on herself and shot into the air, floating upwards until she was able to reach the top of the crumbling structure. The villain was focused on the destruction he was causing, his face scrunched up in wicked glee as he rammed his fist into the building once more.

Ochako closed her eyes for a moment as she hid behind a large slab of debris, trying to think of a plan. Opening her eyes again, she scanned the area, looking for some way to subdue him. That’s when her eyes settled on the huge, open ceiling stadium the island often used for science festivals. Her eyes widening, she formed a plan in her mind. If she could get him to the stadium, the other heroes would be in a better position to help, and the steel arches that rose up on the side of the stadium might just trap his legs, keeping him from causing any more damage.

Jumping out from her hiding spot, Ochako pressed her fingers to the debris she had just been hiding behind and charged at the villain, the debris following her as she ran. The villain turned to look at her but wasn’t quite quick enough before the slab of broken building slammed into him, hitting him square in the face. The villain stumbled back with a pained roar, his large hand coming up to paw gingerly at his broken nose. When his eyes turned to Ochako, they spelled out death in the worst way possible.

Ochako wasted no time using her quirk on herself to jump from building to building, continuing to fling debris and spew insults at him as she ran. The villain focused solely on her, his eyes flashing dangerously as he sped up, following her as she streaked for the stadium. The villain was hot on her heels, hand reaching out to snatch her when suddenly the villain was thrown backward. The large beast of a man landed firmly on his butt, creating a small crater in the street. Ochako snapped her head around just in time to see a flash of green as Izuku launched at the villain, who was attempting to stand back up. Izuku’s next move forced the man back down onto the street. The villain growled in frustration as he placed his hands on the street and jumped up onto the balls of his feet.

“Deku!” Ochako yelled as Izuku went to knock him down again, only to have to dodge as the villain swiped at him with both huge hands. Izuku used his quirk to jump far away from the villain’s reach before looking at Ochako. The floaty hero in training beckoned him over as the villain began to push himself back onto his humongous feet.

“Help me lead him to the stadium, we can subdue him there,” Ochako said as soon as Izuku reached her. Her best friend nodded enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face, and his eyes sparkling as he regarded her plan. It was a simple plan but one that would work exceedingly well for this unique situation. Leaping away from her again, Izuku aimed a powered punch at the villain’s face rather than his gut, the gear on his arms from Melissa keeping him from breaking his arms on impact. The attack struck true as the villain’s head was snapped to the side while his body remained standing upright.

Ochako sent another block of debris his way, relishing in the villain’s roar of pain as a car got lodged in his eye. The combination of attacks from the two young heroes set something off in the villain then, his aura turning murderous as he suddenly sprinted at the both of them. Ochako let out a surprised squeak and leaped away from where the villain reached for her, jumping onto the next building roof. She could feel herself getting tired but she kept up her series of distracting attacks and dodging the villain’s attempts to catch her. Izuku was doing the same thing, using his power quirk to keep out of the villain’s reach while simultaneously hitting the villain over and over again.

“YOU GUYS ARE DEAD!” The villain roared, surprising both Izuku and Ochako with his booming voice. Continuing on, the pair worked seamlessly in unison to bring the villain closer and closer to his trap.

The villain reached out and grabbed a chunk of a nearby building before hurling it at the two young heroes. Ochako felt the very corner of it hit her leg and felt something snap painfully but she managed to keep from falling off the building she was on. Her pained yelp brought Izuku over to her but she waved him off, pointing subtly to the stadium and mouthing to keep going. Izuku looked worried and hesitant but moved ahead, aiming another hit on the villain. Ochako kept moving, forcing down the bile that rose in her throat at the pain, and used her quirk to keep as much weight off of her injured leg as possible. She felt nauseous from both her quirk and her injury but she managed to stay focused, blocking out the world around her as she focused on avoiding each attack from behind her.

A loud, terrified squeal jolted Ochako out of her focus, her eyes darting down to where the villain was reaching for someone in the street. Her eyes widened as she took in the wavy blonde hair and shining blue eyes she had come to loathe in the recent days, her heart quickening as she watched the villain open his fingers, ready to grab at her small frame. Izuku had not yet noticed what the villain was doing, too preoccupied with the villain’s other hand, which was continuing to swipe at him as he flew around. Ochako knew her feelings were less than positive when it came to Melissa Shield, but she also knew she was a nice person and that those feelings only existed due to her jealousy.

“MELISSA LOOK OUT!” Ochako screamed, ignoring the pain that rocketed up her leg as she launched off of the building and right for the villain’s hand. She felt the villain’s fingers close around her body instead of Melissa’s and let out a pained scream as he clenched his digits around her body.

Raising his hand up, the villain threw Ochako from his grip, watching with unsuppressed glee as her body collided with the side of a building with a sickening crunch. She almost immediately blacked out, the distant sound of someone screaming her name just barely registering in her brain as she lost consciousness.

~~~

Ochako felt like she had just gone through a tornado. Everything hurt, her body, her arms, her legs, her face, everything throbbed. She groaned softly and would’ve laughed at how weak and pathetic it sounded if it weren’t for the pain she was in.

“Come on, open your eyes!” A voice said from somewhere above her. She had no idea who the voice belonged to but they sounded kind. She groaned again and felt her eyelids twitch as she subconsciously tried to open her eyes. She wanted to sleep for the rest of her life at the moment but she could still feel herself coming out of it regardless, little white spot starting to peek through the darkness surrounding her.

“Come on, ‘Chako!”

She finally managed to crack open her eyes but immediately shut them again at the bright light that assaulted them.

“Can someone turn off the damn sun?” Ochako muttered as she attempted once again to open her eyes.

This time, the light was less harsh as her sensitive eyes got used to it. She blinked a few times and realized that she had been taken to some sort of hospital, the white walls and sleek tile flooring making the light shine ever brighter. The smell of medical supplies stung her nose and she had to refrain from scrunching up her face in disgust.

“Oh thank god!” The same voice from earlier said, dripping with relief. Ochako looked over to the side to see Izuku sitting in a chair by her bedside, tears shining on his cheeks and his hair an absolute mess. He was clutching her hand in his, his fingers shaking against her soft skin. “Oh thank god, Ochako, I-I thought I l-lost you!”

Ochako stared at him in shock and glanced down at their intertwined hands. She was disgusted with how much her heart soared at the sight, her eyes narrowing slightly as she coached herself to behave.

Izuku glanced at her face before looking down at their joined hands. Noticing her expression, Izuku quickly released her hand and raised it to rub the back of his neck nervously.

“S-Sorry,” Izuku said, completely unaware of the cold feeling that washed over Ochako as soon as he let go of her. “I was just scared I’d lose you, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Shaking herself from her daze, Ochako waved him off with a bright smile.

“You have nothing to apologize for, absolutely nothing Deku,” She said. “I was just a little surprised is all.”

Izuku’s shoulders slumped as he relaxed, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah, I can see why that would seem really unexpected.”

Ochako was just about to say something when a loud voice echoed through the other side of her hospital room door, making both Ochako and Izuku look around at the door.

“Where is she!?”

“She’s in room 136,” a deep voice they did not recognize responded.

They both heard the sound of hurried footsteps and not too long after, the door to Ochako’s room burst open, revealing a red-faced Melissa, her eyes shining with tears and her hair hanging around her shoulders in a tangled mess. Before Ochako could react, Melissa threw herself at the floaty girl, her arms linking behind her neck and burying her face in Ochako’s shoulder. Ochako’s mouth hung open in shock and it took her a moment of hesitation before she gingerly wrapped her arms around the sobbing blonde.

“Thank you, t-thank you, thank you!!!” Melissa bawled. “Y-You saved me! You didn’t have to do that but you did and you almost died because of me. I will always be in your debt, thank you so much!”

Melissa leaned back, her eyes shining as she stared at Ochako. Ochako was completely shocked but managed to give her a shaky smile.

“It was my pleasure, I couldn’t just stand there and watch you get killed, not when I was there to do something and help people. You don’t owe me anything, but I did appreciate the hug,” Ochako said softly.

Melissa let out another soft sob and encompassed her in a gentler hug this time.

“Thank you,” Melissa mumbled again before climbing off of Ochako and standing back up, using her hands to smooth out her rumpled dress.

“What happened to the villain?” Ochako asked.

“Oh! Izuku went down and picked you up after you saved me, but at that point, other heroes had shown up. He told them your plan so they continued it. The metal arches of the stadium trapped him and he was subdued and arrested by the authorities. He won’t be seeing the light of day any time soon,” Melissa said.

“Hey, Melissa? Could you give me a minute alone with ‘Chako?” Izuku asked suddenly.

Ochako snapped her gaze to Izuku and saw that he was avoiding her gaze, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend.

Melissa smiled and nodded, wiping away her tears as she sniffled.

“O-Of course, take all the time you need.”

Melissa then moved over to Izuku and cupped his ear, leaning in to whisper something to him. Even when she was injured and exhausted, Ochako felt a boiling rage at the sight of the two of them. She was so disgusted with herself as her jealous feelings came rearing up stronger than ever. Her mood only worsened as Izuku blushed a brilliant shade of red and glared half-heartedly at Melissa, who laughed in a sing-song voice. Heading out the door, Melissa threw Izuku a wink just before she shut the door with a click.

The room was silent. Izuku stood awkwardly for a while and Ochako shifted uncomfortably in her bed, the tension almost palpable in the air.

“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” Ochako asked quietly.

“Why did you do it?”

“Huh?” Ochako asked, not expecting the question.

“Why did you put yourself at the risk of death to save Melissa? I mean, I’m grateful, but why?”

“Because I’m a hero, Deku, I’m not going to bypass someone in need.”

“I know, but I feel like there is something more behind it. You didn’t deflect the attack, you took the attack, why?”

“Because I-”

“Please,” Izuku said softly. “Don’t lie to me.”

Ochako sucked in a breath at his tone. Swallowing thickly and averting her gaze, she nodded.

“Alright, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just want to know.”

“I just… I just didn’t want you to lose someone you love,” Ochako said.

“HUH?” Izuku said, his head snapping up.

“I just… I don’t know, I haven’t seen you act this happy before, being with Melissa has definitely changed your mood for the better and I didn’t want you to lose that. You told me you were bullied a lot as a kid but now you have someone to hold you, make you laugh, kiss you, love you, and I didn’t want you to lose this new piece of your life. I know I got injured but it was worth it if it means you get to stay happy.”

Ochako then closed her eyes, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t read too deeply into her words. She loved Izuku but she did not want to ruin his current relationship by stupidly admitting her love for him. The silence seemed to stretch forever as she waited impatiently for him to respond.

“Oh my god…,” Izuku whispered.

Ochako chanced a peek at him and saw him lean back in his chair, his hand covering his eyes, a deep sigh escaping him. Ochako fought the tears back as she closed her eyes again. She had ruined everything. He knew and he hated her. He was disgusted with her. He wanted to end their friendship and never see her again. Ochako couldn’t stop the tidal wave of thoughts that flooded her brain like some sort of infectious disease, attacking her heart over and over again as she pictured every terrible scenario of the future with him.

“I’m such a damn moron!”

Izuku’s sudden exclamation made her eyes snap open and meet his gaze which she hadn’t known was intently locked on her.

“Gods, Ochako I am so sorry,” Izuku groaned. “You’ve got it all wrong and it’s all my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

Izuku met her gaze and smiled nervously.

“Melissa and I aren’t together.”

“What?” Ochako asked. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I am not dating Melissa Shield,” Izuku said, taking a deep breath. “The only person I love is you, and I almost lost you.”

Ochako’s whole body suddenly felt as if it had been jolted by lightning. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped slightly as his words sank in.

The only person I love is you.

“W-What?” Ochako whispered.

Izuku shuffled nervously in his seat and broke her gaze.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to tell you how I feel. I almost lost you, and that made me realize that if I didn’t tell you, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

Izuku then reached forward and gently took hold of her hand. Ochako looked down at their intertwined hands and this time didn’t hate herself for the feeling of joy that bubbled up in her chest, the beast that had been tormenting her with jealousy, roaring in triumph. A few stray tears slid down her cheeks and her heart nearly burst out of her chest when Izuku leaned forward and gently wiped the tears from her face with the pad of his thumb.

“I didn’t screw this up, did I?” Izuku asked nervously.

Ochako shook her head, her bangs swaying in front of her face.

“You didn’t ruin anything, I think you did fine.”

Swallowing thickly, Izuku glanced down at her lips and then back up to her eyes, wordlessly asking for permission. Ochako nodded enthusiastically and leaned forward to meet him in the middle for the kiss she had dreamed of having for so long. Ochako sighed contentedly as his soft lips met hers and leaned into his touch when he reached up to cup her cheek. Her own arms snaked over his shoulders and linked behind his neck, running her fingers through the hair on the base of his neck.

Izuku groaned at the feeling of her fingers running through his hair, his heart thumping so wildly he idly wondered if everyone in the hospital could hear it. She felt so good against him, her taste instantly addicting and her wonderful smell making him sigh in bliss. He loved her so much, had loved her for so long, he couldn’t believe he had accidentally prohibited his chances of being with the love of his life by being around the sweet blonde so much. The pair finally broke apart, a thin line of saliva still connecting them before diminishing as Izuku moved down to rest his forehead against hers. The two were panting slightly, trying to catch their breaths from the electrifying, albeit clumsy first kiss.

“Wow…” Ochako mumbled against him causing Izuku to chuckle. Ochako melted against him as the vibrations of his laugh rumbled against her figure from where she leaned against his chest. Making sure to be mindful of her injuries, Izuku pulled her closer and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“I love you, Ochako Uraraka,” Izuku said, making her breath hitch slightly despite already hearing those words from earlier. “Would you be my girlfriend? Please?”

“Of course!” Ochako almost squealed in response. “I love you too Izuku Midoriya.”

Izuku chuckled and pulled her tighter against him, his face snuggling closer to her soft skin. Suddenly, Ochako pulled back a bit, a concentrated look on her face.

“Wait, if you weren’t with Melissa, why were you spending so much time with her? I’m totally fine with you having female friends, I’m not that kind of girlfriend, but you were always holding hands, and whispering to each other, and going to each other’s rooms at night,” Ochako asked, pulling back a bit more to get a good look at his face. Izuku chuckled and blushed.

“Oh, that,” Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck again. “So, I actually spent so much time with her because when she was meeting with me to talk about new gear for my quirk in battle, I accidentally let it slip that I liked you. I was super embarrassed at first but then she told me I needed to confess to you. I didn’t know how, I didn’t even know where to begin, so she said she would help me. Every day at lunch she would whisper to me things that I could say to you, which was oftentimes why I ended up a blushing mess. She would hold my hand so I would know what to do when comforting you. She also did it with her pinky up to get me used to the feeling of holding your hand without having your quirk activate on me. She even gave me these,” Izuku said holding up a small glass box he pulled from his pocket containing two clear things that looked like contact lenses.

“She made them for you, they go over your pinky fingers so you won’t float anything without having to keep your pinky up all the time. She came to my room in the evening to discuss plans for how to confess to you, but she always left before curfew. Nothing ever happened between us. She was just kind enough to help my dumb ass,” Izuku joked causing Ochako to smile. “The last thing she said to me before walking out that door a few minutes ago was ‘Now’s your chance, go get her, tiger.’” Izuku said, his blush coming back in full force to stain his cheeks.

Ochako laughed heartily at that, her heart lifting and her biased jealousy of the blonde fading away completely. She was going to have to thank Melissa another time but for now, she had other things she needed to do first. Reaching for him, Ochako sealed their lips again, relishing in the surprised squeak that came from his mouth as she pulled him as close to her as possible. When they parted again, her eyes were filled with love and light for the boy in front of her.

“I love you, ‘Zuku, thank you for everything.”

“I love you too, ‘Chako, so much.”

As much as she wanted to continue snuggling with him, Ochako was tired, the pain of her injuries dragging her stamina back down after her temporary energy high. Laying her back down, Izuku gently pressed a kiss to her forehead and tucked her in, a bright smile on his face.

“Sleep well, Ochako, I’ll always be here to protect you.”

Ochako fell asleep then, a wide smile teasing her lips, her mind filling with loving images of the two of them, her heart warming as she felt Izuku settle beside her to watch over her just like he promised.

#mha #bnha #izuku x uraraka #izuku midoriya #urakara ochako #ochako x izuku #izuocha-fanfic #izuocha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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psychosistr · 4 years

Text

Mending the Broken- Chapter 3

Summary: Jonathan awakens from one nightmare and finds himself in a reality far worse than anything he could've dreamt up..

Notes: Alright, no two-ways around this one, there are warnings for dubious consent, mind control, and Dio being a general d!ck. You have been warned. Only posting part of this here because of how lame Tumblr is for certain content. Link for AO3 version will be posted below if you want to see more.

-First Chapter-

Jonathan’s eyes snapped open and he gasped for breath. He recalled bits and pieces of his dream, enough to realize why he was so startled when he awoke, but not enough to remember every single thought that had passed through his mind.

He remembered himself and Speedwagon talking…He remembered Speedwagon silently crying alone while cracks appeared on his body…He remembered Dio devouring Speedwagon’s heart…and..that was it..there had to be pieces between those points, but he couldn’t for the life of him recall them at the moment..

Jonathan’s thoughts were stolen back to the waking world when he attempted to move. The first thing he noticed was a crippling pain in his arms as he tried to rub his eyes and found himself unable to move any of his limbs. Looking down in alarm, he saw that he was in a seated position on a stone floor with his arms and legs shackled to the wall behind him. Both arms were wrapped in bandages and the pain in them when he attempted to move suggested they may have been broken. Surprisingly, his legs, while sore from being seated on the cold stone, were otherwise unharmed.

Next, he noted, there was something wrapped tightly around his throat. It felt like steel encased in cloth. He tried to breathe deeply and focus his mind but, when he did, there was a clicking sound from the collar just before it tightened to the point of near suffocation. He gasped on reflex, but that only made the collar tighten further. He quickly learned to take short, weak breaths until it relaxed enough to let him breathe with only a little more difficulty than usual.

Jonathan turned his head enough to see that the collar around his neck was connected to a steel wire that fed into an intricate series of gears on the wall behind him. He had a hunch what it was for, but decided to test his hypothesis anyway.

“Haaaah-nh!” Jonathan attempted a deep breath to charge his hamon, but the tensing of his neck muscles tugged the wire slightly and it triggered the gears. The device then activated as the gears turned, drawing the wire back in towards them and, in the process, choking Jonathan. Jonathan quickly relaxed his neck and took in short breaths until the wire released him and the device shut off once more. His neck hurt now, but his hunch had been proven right. “So, this device is meant to restrict my breathing and keep me from using my hamon. I would call it brilliant if it didn’t reek of Dio’s sadism.”

Jonathan decided to take a look around the room to see if he could spot a way to free himself or, at the very least, gain a better understanding of where he was.

There were no windows there, only stone walls on all sides with a single wrought-iron door on the wall out of reach to his left. The meager light of the room came from a lone candle left to burn in a wall scone by the door. The only notable fixture in the room besides the chains and device that Jonathan was bound to was a lavish, ornate wooden arm chair with intricate engraving and upholstered in blood red cushions located against the wall directly in front of him.

At first, Jonathan nearly overlooked the chair as just a piece of furniture…that is, until he saw the chain attached to the ground by the leg of the chair. Following the length with his eyes, he saw a figure sitting in the long shadow cast by the chair in the dim lighting that he almost missed. It looked vaguely human in shape and he could tell it was breathing, but he couldn’t see who it was in the darkness.

“Hello?” He tried calling out. “Can you hear me?”

“……” The figure didn’t answer him. But, its head tipped to the side slightly and Jonathan saw familiar golden hair slip out into light just past the chair.

“Speedwagon?” Jonathan tried calling out to his friend. “Speedwagon, can you hear me? Are you alright? Do you know where-?”

“……” He stopped when Speedwagon’s head slowly rose and turned towards him. The light was too dim to see everything clearly, but what he did see caused a tremor of fear to go through his body: Speedwagon’s eyes, which were normally so bright and vibrant and reminded Jonathan of perfectly polished copper, were now dim and lifeless, a haze to them that turned them a murky color like thick mud. His skin looked paler than usual, almost sickly, and, from what Jonathan could see, there was dried blood around the sides of his neck. His hair was also far more matted and unkempt than usual, looking as if it had been pulled and mussed and tossed about for quite some time.

“Speedwagon..?” Jonathan’s voice had a quiver to it. He may not have been able to fully see the state of his dear friend, but what he could see clearly told him that something was wrong with the other man. “Dear god, Speedwagon…What has that monster Dio done to you?!”

That seemed to garner some sort of reaction from the blond. His vacant eyes slowly drifted towards the door. “D…Di…o…”

As if on cue, the door opened after a clicking sound was heard and the man in question entered the room. The vampire closed the door behind himself with a loud “bang” before looking at Jonathan with a malicious smirk. “Well, well..finally awake, Jojo? You certainly kept us waiting.”

Jonathan was about to speak, to demand to know what Dio had done to Speedwagon, but the words died on his tongue when Speedwagon suddenly got up onto his knees.

“Lord Dio!” The street-rat’s previously expressionless face now had a large, almost manic smile spread across it even though his eyes retained their blank, muddled state. He crawled on his hands and knees around the front of the chair, revealing that he was naked from head to toe aside from a collar around his neck that connected to the chain latched to the floor. His body was scarred and bruised and coated in patchy spots of dried blood and a white substance that Jonathan dared not guess the origin of. “Lord Dio! Lord Dio!” He called out with a tone that was both ecstatic and desperate at the same time, crawling on his hands and knees until the chain reached its limit and jerked him back into a kneeling position. “I-I did what ya said, Lord Dio! I didn’ move or talk ‘til ya came back! Did-Did I do good?! Are ya pleased, Lord Dio?!”

Dio chuckled in amusement and walked forward, allowing the man’s eagerly reaching hands to wrap around his legs while he patted Speedwagon’s already mussed hair. “Yes I am, my pet. You’ve done very well.”

Speedwagon trembled as if a wave of euphoria had just overtaken him and slid down Dio’s legs until he was seated at his feet. “Ohhhhh, thank ya, Lord Dio…!”

Jonathan watched the scene unfold in stunned silence for several moments, unable to properly form words or even thoughts about what he was witnessing. His friend..his dearest, closest friend..a man who’d once shot Dio in the face with no hesitation and stood alongside Jonathan valiantly..was now..now..

“DIOOOOO!!!!” Jonathan yelled as protective rage filled his veins like liquid fire. He struggled against his bonds, ignoring the pain in his arms and the tightening of the collar around his neck slowly choking off his air. “What did you do to him, Dio?!” The collar tightened to the point of near suffocation, so Jonathan forced himself to settle back down, though the rest of his body was still tense enough to clearly show how enraged he truly was. “What..did you do..to..Speedwagon..?!!” He managed to huff out while regaining his breath.

“You don’t approve of my new pet, Jojo?” Dio smirked again and stepped out of Speedwagon’s hold, walking over to the chair and seating himself in it with his legs crossed. He snapped his fingers and Speedwagon instantly crawled to him, kneeling at his feet with his head positioned under Dio’s waiting hand to be petted like a common dog. “I find him rather amusing. So loyal, so easy to train..I’ve already taught him a few tricks. Watch.” He uncrossed his legs and snapped his fingers again.

~(cutting here for dubious consent/mature content- full scene here on AO3)~

“Now then, Jojo..” Dio lifted Speedwagon off of his lap with ease and dropped him to the floor carelessly. He ignored the yelp of pain the other gave on impact with the hard stone floor as he tucked himself back into his clothing and righted himself. He then walked over to Jonathan and kneeled down to be at eye level with him. “I hope you enjoyed my little show. If not, then do not fret- I shall return soon enough for an encore performance.”

“Diiooooo..!!” Jonathan practically growled out his hated brother’s name. He was seething with rage, possibly the angriest he’d ever been. He leaned as far forward as the collar and wire would allow him, looking Dio dead in the eyes as he spoke. “You will pay for what you have done, Dio! I will find a way out of here and I will take Speedwagon back with me! Once he is safe, I will make certain you pay for what you have done to him!”

Dio laughed at Jonathan’s futile struggles and stood back up, now looking down on him both literally and figuratively. “My, my, Jojo. You actually seem to think you have a chance in all of this. How delightfully foolish.” He walked towards the door. “I invite you to try, though. Show me what you are capable of.” He glanced back when he heard a pained groan and a shuffling sound, looking at Speedwagon as the bloodied and bruised man brought himself up into a sitting position. “As for you, my pet, you are not to move or speak until I return again. Understood?”

“Y..Yes..Lord..Dio..” Speedwagon said weakly while catching his breath, sitting up with his back against the leg of the chair. “Anythin’..ya say..”

Dio seemed pleased by the response and opened the door. “Until next time, Jojo.” He closed the door with a loud “bang”, leaving the two men alone once again.

Jonathan glared after him for a while before his attention was drawn back to Speedwagon due to a dripping sound. He frowned at what he saw: Speedwagon, still seated in the same position he’d been in when Dio left, now had that blank, emotionless expression on his face once more, but with tears now slowly falling from his eyes and dripping down onto the stone floor beneath him.

“Speedwagon..” Jonathan said, trying any way he could to shift even an inch closer to his fellow captive. “I am so sorry..you do not deserve any of this..I swear upon my life and pride as a Joestar, I will find a way to free you from Dio.”

“…….” Speedwagon gave no response. There was no movement. Not even a glance at Jonathan’s face to indicate that he heard or understood what Jonathan said. He merely continued to weep silently while looking in Jonathan’s direction unseeingly.

Jonathan bit his lip, glancing down at the ground with a pained look of sadness. He had to find a way out. He had to find a way to free Speedwagon from Dio’s control. He had to defeat Dio and put an end to his cruelty once and for all. There were so many things he had to do that he wasn’t even sure where to start…

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Another thing I wanted to see more of in the series was Dio's use of hypnosis- it was only ever briefly used on Poco, but then never discussed again that he could do that. This whole story was essentially me wanting more hypnosis and seeing what that could REALLY do when used by someone as sick and devious as Dio.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jonathan joestar #robert edward o speedwagon #jonawagon #dio #diowagon #(yes I feel gross typing that part but it kind of is)#trigger warning #mental manipulation #emotional manipulation #abuse #mending the broken

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onstarsandiron · 4 years

Photo

The timeline, as near as I could assemble it, with a little conjecture by me. I centered it around Coronation Day, aka the Holy Convergence, aka the 1,000th anniversary of the Iron Kingdom, so anything before that is BCD, anything after that is ACD. Details under the cut.

1,000 BCD:

Solani Ark crashes into what will become Zenteli, pursued by The Great Dark

Goddess bears a daughter of light that fights back The Great Dark

Goddess creates the Iron Kingdom, and from her heart the Iron Crown is carved; Ironbloods claim they can trace their lineage back to her court

The Goddess dies and is buried in her tomb with The Great Dark’s heart

The Cantos is written and the first shrine of the Moon Goddess is erected on Luna

25-20 BCD

The Plague -- The Plague is always stated as being “Twenty years ago” but plagues take time to first become plagues and then cause problems and then be eradicated. With the complication of having to develop and manufacture Metals before they could treat the plague well, I’ve given it a cautious life-time of five years, with it having officially ended twenty years from Coronation Day

In the scene with Nich, Mercer, Di, Selena, and Mari are at the Tomb of the Goddess, Mercer says he can’t call Cynthia because the Tomb has been off limits since the plague started, meaning that they were still going to the Academy during the plague. I propose that Mercer, Di, Nich, and Mari were all the equivalent of seniors and this was their last year, as it would be reasonable for Di to go off to try and help the plague after he’d finished at the Academy. That puts all of them around 16/17, since that’s the age Robb was when he was supposed to graduate.

Once Di contracts the plague, Malifare takes advantage of his and his father’s desperation and becomes one of the first Metals, and, if the reports Ana found in the lab were correct, the first fully successful Metal, aside from previous-life memories.

I also propose that it is sometime during this that Mari’s mother is murdered -- Erik mentions, when Robb dons the Aragon crest, that, “The old dame was murdered and her daughter went missing.” (SoS, V: Stardust, Robb) -- and Captain Siege is born. This would coincide with much of the Aragon family suffering and dying from the plague; the Aragon family is noted as magnanimous, and they may have opened themselves to risk in an attempt to support the poor, though that’s just my personal headcannon. Di also asks Malifare, when they first met, if she’s there because of Mari, which may have something to do with it, but what, I do not know.

18 BCD

Jax is born

17 BCD

Ana is born and lauded as the goddess born anew

Robb is born -- his 17th birthday was the day Jax got de-lit (:

10 BCD

Jax runs away from Zenteli

10-8 BCD

Somewhere in here Siege and Talle adopt hire Jax after he pick-pockets Siege in Nevaeh

7 BCD

The Revolution

Rasovant asks Nicholii to approve HIVEing Metals; when Nicholii denies him he, in a fit of rage, kills him.

Mercer finds Nicholii’s body and calls for guards

Malifare burns down the North Tower with the whole Royal Family inside

Mercer gives Ana to D09 -- Nicholii’s personal metal, according to Machivalle -- and Ana receives burns from his heated chassis. They escape in the Tsarina

Mercer sends out one message to his wife, informing her of what had happened and of the location of the heart. Cynthia would later go and take it from the tomb, storing it instead in the hands of the Goddess statue in Nevaeh

The Tsarina is infested with the HIVE too, though, with weird memory core-less Metals. Mercer manages to get the ship all the way to Palavar -- I propose he does this to disable the ship full of dangerous robots for the greater good -- getting shot in the process. As his last act, he gives Ana his family’s symbol and sends her and Di off in an escape pod

An undisclosed time later -- it could have been weeks depending on how well-stocked the escape pod was -- Siege finds the 10-year-old and Di floating in dead space between Cerces and Iliad; Di tells her who they are and then asks that his memory be erased -- Mercer’s instructions. Siege does erase Di’s memories, this being the cause of Di’s later glitches, but she doesn’t drop them at a weigh-station like Di asked, hoping that she could be able to keep Ana safe

7 Years - 7 Days BCD

Ana, Jax, and Di have life-threatening Shenanigans aboard the Dossier; everything after this is just a summary of the books

7-6 Days BCD

Di and Ana in the shrine -- job goes south

They follow Robb up to Astoria, that goes south and Robb gets shot and half-kidnapped

2-hours towards Palavar Robb’s chip is activated

Palavar happens, killing Bergar and disabling Di; The Kiss happens and Jax knows how Robb will die; Robb finds what will become Di’s new body

~2-4 hours after Palavar, while Robb is in the middle of experimentally trying to upload Di, the Dossier is so very politely hailed via missile by the Catarina

Cynthia kills Wick, Ana and Jax are taken onto the Caterina, Robb feels really, really bad about it all

Di wakes up and he and the captain free the Dossier

Once at the Iron Palace, Robb reveals Ana as the princess

5-2 days BCD

Jax is Cynthia’s prisoner, Robb promises on Stars and Iron to save him

Ana has to get lessons, and hates every second of it. Tries to get information out of everyone but only has some luck with Machivalle

The Dossier works on their own plan

1 Day BCD

Pre-coronation gala!

Robb and Ana make their appearance; Robb soon leaves to go get Jax -- not that he has a way out of the palace, mind you

Ana meets Wynn and gets an important note from Machivalle; Ana and Di dance; Ana runs off when she realizes Di is “Rasovant’s Metal”

Di runs off, finds Rasovant’s office, steals his own old guard uniform, starts having memories that are not D09′s

Robb bumps into Di in the Hallway, E0S brings trouble around and they split up, agreeing to meet in like 3 1/2 hours at the docks

Jax reads Cynthia’s stars in exchange for Cynthia promising on Stars and Iron to protect Robb -- this changes Robb’s stars

Ana is lured into the North Tower to be killed, finds Rasovant’s secret office and the truth behind Metals and the HIVE, Di comes and saves her

Robb rescues Jax, puts a vox collar on his brother

Ana and Di make out before Ana sends Di on his way so he can be safe

Malifare captures Di, he is not safe; Di gives instructions to E0S

Robb sends Jax off, decries the Valerio name

Di realizes he’s Dmitri, is promptly HIVEd

Coronation Day

Bad things happen. The following people die: Lady Valerio, Rasovant (Ana did that one), Riggs, the Grand Duchess, a couple other Ironblood guests, all human guards. Viera might also have died here, or she might have been kept alive long enough to be turned into a Metal later; I’m unclear on the Metaling process. Di stabs Ana. Robb loses and arm.

0-6 months ACD

Shrines are burned as Malifare searches for her heart

Siege and her fleet set up refugee camps for Metals

Ana recovers from her near-fatal wound

Robb and Jax are dating

5 Months ACD

Robb gets his robo arm

6 Months ACD

Ana meets Elara and Xu in Neon City

Ana is captured

Elara, Xu, Jax, and Robb go to save Ana; Jax and Robb split up and Jax recognizes the dreadnaught from Robb’s stars and knows he will die here

Ana is saved by E0S, runs into “Viera”, then Robb

E0S’s instructions from Di activate, and he leaves Ana to go to the bridge where Jax is

Jax and Di -- as a Messier -- fight; E0S/Di changes Jax’s stars and injects some code into Di

As Jax gets spaced Di instinctively tries to save him and accidentally touches bare skin, forcing Jax to read the stars of everyone consumed by The Great Dark, which drains his light in an instant

Ana and Robb get Jax to the Dossier and put him on life support

Siege sets course to Zenteli so Jax can die there

Very warm reception at Zenteli. Truly hospitable. Jax’s mom slaps Siege

Viera goes off and burns the Zenteli shrine

Jax has his star-induced vision of Di and Malifare in the plague ward

Elara takes Ana and Robb down to the ark where they meet Koren Vey, who gives them the coordinates to the Goddess’ Tomb as well as saying some cryptic stuff

Di is experiencing “glitches” from what E0S gave him, reveals himself to Erik, accidentally so to Wynn

Siege gets Jax and she and Talle come to rescue Ana, Robb, and Elara

Jax accepts Koren Vey’s light, collapses into Robb’s arms; he glows now.

Siege, Talle, Robb, and Jax are taken back to the spire by the solgard while Ana and Elara evade them

Ana and Elara split, Ana to go to the Goddess’ Tomb and Elara to fetch Jax and the others

Lenda sends Ana off, she also bumps into Viera, through whom the HIVE now knows where Ana’s going

Elara fetches Jax, Jax’s mom helps him break everyone out

Robb and Elara break off to go after “Resonance”, the Dossier goes after Ana to the tomb

Ana arrives at the tomb, is followed by Di and Malifare. In the tomb she finds that the heart isn’t there, then blows them all up. Di finally breaks free of the HIVE.

The Dossier lands and takes Ana and Di; Malifare is nowhere to be seen

Robb and Elara arrive at the Valerio estate and he fights Erik over the Resonance file, which reveals that Cynthia funded all of Rasovant’s research and herself found the heart first, as well as the heart’s current hiding place

The meeting at Havens Grave happens

Ana and Di get to talk

Robb tells Jax he loves him and they make out

A plan of action is solidified

Robb and Di crash Erik’s party

Ana, Siege, and Talle go after the heart, Ana going into the shrine and Siege and Talle keeping watch

Malifare plunges Astoria out of the sky and takes off with Viera, now revealed as a Metal

Di saves Astoria, gets stabbed in the back by Erik for his troubles

Erik, unrelatedly and against the genuine attempt to save him by Robb, dies

Jax takes Robb and Di to the shrine

Ana gets the heart

Final battle: Ana and Di vs Malifare in the shrine; Dossier vs Messiers in the plaza

Siege finally takes Malifare out and Di destroys the HIVE

6 Months and Like 2-4 Week ACD

Ana is installed as Empress, introduces a wide range of new voices to the Iron Counsel

Jax accepts his role as C’zar, enjoys being a thorn in the Counsel of Elder’s side

Siege and Talle head off to hide the heart

Di says goodbye to Ana

Ana makes her speech at Erik’s funeral, runs off quickly after

Di doesn’t actually go and he and Ana kiss and everything is super sweet and nice, The End

#hoi #heart of iron #sos #soul of stars #timeline #reference #spoilers #this is the last major reference piece i wanted to make #let me know if theres any corrections or additions i should make #some of this is conjecture #but educated conjecture #theories

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balancingdiet · 5 years

Text

Freefall

Pairing: Kaito & Aoko Word Count: 2000+ Alternate reading site

Summary: Five times Kaito jumped, and one time he didn't.

"Kaito-botchama, are you ready?"

"Yeah." Kaito—Kaitou Kid nodded and clipped his cape on his shoulder. If the wind was this strong during his first flight, he would have long succumbed to its merciless strength and fell off the building. But after being used to it for a year, his steady legs stood confidently over the edge of the roof, eyes only focused on the sea of shimmering lights below.

The beautiful sight never ceased to amaze him.

"Be careful." Jii said, while trying to not let the worry slip into his tone, but Kaito knew better.

"Don't worry." He gave a reassuring pat on Jii's shoulder. "I'll finish the heist faster than you think."

With that, he tilted the brim of his hat down and jumped, down and down till he commanded his cape to turn into wings as he took flight into the night.

xxx xxx

"You're an idiot."

"You're the idiot."

Aoko bit her lower lip and was preparing to shoot back, but some part of her probably knew it was pointless to argue with Kaito any further. So she gave up and looked over the railings of the bridge they always crossed to and fro their school.

Kaito inwardly sighed and followed suit.

Down below the bridge was Aoko's diary bobbing up and down over the still river water.

Well, it was quite a complicated mess, if Kaito had to admit. It all started with some rumours floating around that Aoko liked some guy in school, and of course after knowing that, Kaito decided to check with Aoko because he... couldn't believe it.

And of course, again, Aoko refused to say who that person was, but Kaito wasn't going to let the matter go so easily. So he snatched her diary from her bag, hoping to find some clues in it.

Aoko gave chase.

While trying to flip the pages of the diary, Kaito was distracted and slower than usual.

She caught him.

The book flew out from his grasp and fell off the bridge.

And here they were, pouting and sulking in silence at each other.

Kaito sighed again, this time aloud.

"Fine." He said and sneaked a glance over to Aoko who was uncharacteristically quiet. "I'm sorry."

He really was.

Aoko refused to look at him and sniffed.

Oh boy…

Kaito slapped his hands over the railings and checked the river again. There wasn't any current, and the depth of the river is just above his knee level…

Aoko finally turned towards him, eyes wide and slightly red. "W-What are you doing?"

His legs were already over the railings. "Taking your diary back."

She scowled and pulled his sleeve. "How desperate are you in wanting to invade my privacy? The book is already soaked—"

"Of course not." Kaito grumbled and shrugged her hand off. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me, and I won't force you to. I just want to get your diary back. That's all."

Aoko blinked, suddenly speechless.

Kaito couldn't blame her. This was probably the nicest thing he'd told her for the past month. He hadn't been feeling great thanks to Snake's recent visits to his heists, plus all the workload from school… and nowthere were these stupid rumours... it was hard to not let his mood be affected.

And a way to vent, he had been unfairly mean to Aoko.

It was his fault.

Without waiting for her to stop him once more, he jumped.

xxx xxx

"Kaitou Kid!"

Kaito froze. He slowly stepped off from the window sill and turned, while taking extra care that his hat was tipped down enough to cast a shadow over his face.

"Hello, Nakamori-san." Kaitou Kid spoke, making sure his voice lower and much more charismatic. He hoped there were enough contrast from Kuroba Kaito's voice.

Aoko took one step forward, and another tentative step next. "Give it up, Kaitou Kid."

"You've got quite a unique greeting, Nakamori-san. I love it."

"Y-You stupid jerk." She snapped.

Despite how Aoko always topped in language classes, her limited vocabularies for insults always made Kaito laugh whenever they had an argument. This time he nearly did too. Nearly, but didn't (Because he wasn't Kuroba Kaito but Kaitou Kid).

He cleared his throat and produced a small smile. "I'm sorry, Nakamori-san. I have to apologise that I couldn't spend any more time conversing with you. Perhaps next time?"

"That next time will happen when you're in jail!" Aoko exclaimed.

"I'll look forward to that day if it ever comes."

Aoko looked like she was about to burst, and before she could stop him, he climbed onto the window sill and jumped.

He forced every nerves in his body to not look back.

xxx xxx

Aoko had been visiting his heists much more frequently now. Not as an audience, but a participant.

Though she was feisty in many ways when he chased after him, he tried not to care; both Kaitou Kid and Kuroba Kaito. Her presence, in someway or another, had made him look forward to conducting heists when he once used to find it as a chore. His methods and the way he executed his heists were the same as before, but every now and then, he was starting to stay longer and longer after stealing his loots…

He just hoped no one noticed that difference.

But who was he kidding?

Not Snake, definitely.

Ten minutes after Kaito stolen the latest gem, Snake set off the bomb he planted in one of the museum's hall.

Luckily, the museum was closed from the public. The police and the museum staff managed to get out of safety.

Except for Aoko and Kaito—Kaitou Kid. At that point of time, they were on the roof.

And it was madness and chaos.

Kaito didn't have the chance to check if the jewel was Pandora, but he couldn't care. He dropped it and grabbed onto the only precious thing in his life and ran to the edge of the roof before the ground collapsed under him.

Aoko screamed, her fingers clenching onto his suit tightly.

"Trust me." He whispered into her ear.

She only nodded in reply.

And he jumped.

Down and down they went, until his cape did its magic and he geared the direction of his wings towards the closest building he could find.

By the time he landed on the safe roof, Aoko was already unconscious.

Just from fright. Thankfully.

Just from fright.

xxx xxx

Ever since that bomb incident, Inspector Nakamori refrained Aoko from participating again.

Surprisingly, she didn't try to argue and agreed, saving Kaito the effort to find excuses to convince Aoko to stop attending too.

And something changed.

There had been a recent, lacking need for Kaito to feel jumpy or guilty whenever Kaitou Kid was mentioned; Aoko had become quieter when discussion about Kid happened in class, and she wasn't as feisty or hateful as she usually was when news about Kid played on the TV during dinner.

Something… or rather her feelings for Kid had changed. Drastically.

Kaito wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.

And not just that. Another thing had changed for Aoko. She was once athletic and unafraid of something as unnerving as heights; which was the best combination for a participant of Kaitou Kid's heists. But now… she was more afraid of heights than those tiny bugs she usually got so frantic over when it happened to land on her shoulder.

It got so serious that she had to close off her balcony for a period of time.

Kaito took extra precaution too. He made sure he stood closer to the side of the bridge they always had to pass by to and fro from school, just so she wouldn't have to see over the railings. And when it was Aoko's turn on the duty roster to water the class's garden on the roof above the science lab, he either volunteered himself, or sneakily change her name to another person's, to prevent Aoko's suspicions about his concerns.

Concern and Kaito wasn't much of a great complement.

As time passed, things started becoming better. Aoko could now look up at roofs without glancing away as fearfully as she once used to, and the time she spent on her balcony grew as well (though Kaito was there with her).

Things were better, but not all scars were healed.

There were still fear in her.

It all happened on their supposedly relaxing and fuss-free summer school excursion. The activities that their class representative prepared on their itinerary were normal like every other classes: Shrine-hopping, food-expedition and shopping-spree (for girls. It's arcade for guys). Kaito had checked the list and the designated locations several times over to know Aoko would do okay even if he wasn't with her, which was why he finally dared to take an eye off her and relaxed for the first time in a while.

A mistake.

Right at the time when Kaito was playing at the arcade with his friends, one of the girls from the shopping-spree group suggested trekking up a famous hill before dinner.

Kaito only knew it during dinner.

Aoko was already missing.

While the worried group of girls frantically explained to the teachers and everyone about how they tried looking for Aoko for over an hour, Kaito found her almost immediately after he rushed out to aid the search; because there was only one place on the map of the trekking site that had a height he knew Aoko couldn't conquer.

He texted a friend and a teacher where his location was before climbing up to the said spot.

The sound of Aoko's sobbing intensified.

"Hey."

Aoko straightened from her curled-up self under a tree, her eyes red and swollen.

"K-Kaito?" She whispered unbelievingly.

He slowly squatted to Aoko’s side and touched the side of her arm. "Are you okay?"

"…No."

Kaito felt like he just got stabbed.

And he didn't know how to reply.

He squeezed her arm, trying to nudge her up. "Let's get out of here before it get's too dark."

She refused to budge. "I can't, Kaito." Her entire body began to shake as she glanced over at the steep rocks and the bottom that she didn't dare to see. "I-I can't."

"It's okay—"

"No!" She pushed his hand away. "It's not okay! Just go! Ju-Just leave me alone. I-I can't go down."

"For god's sake Aoko, I'm not going to leave you alone!" Kaito bellowed, causing Aoko to flinch. He didn't mean to shout at her, but this was the only way for him to knock some sense into her. What did she mean when she asked him to leave her alone? What bullshit.

He would never.

"Then you're going to be stuck here with me." Aoko rebuked.

"No. We're going to get down together."

She shook her head, but said nothing. Or more like she couldn't anymore.

"I'm here." Kaito squeezed her arm again, emphasising his words with his touch. "You don't have to worry."

Aoko looked up, as though for an extra confirmation. But rather than hope, what Kaito saw was fear wavering in her eyes, and the awful sight was squeezing the life out of his chest.

"Trust me." He said, while hoping his voice didn't change and sounded as broken as his heart.

After a long while, Aoko finally stood up.

"I trust you." She whispered.

Clenching onto his shirt, they slowly ambled towards the edge of the rock. They needed a jump to make it down.

He counted to three.

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

And they jumped.

xxx xxx

Even though there was no warning or signs, Kaito still couldn't believe he would make such a horrible slip up.

He counted the number of guards wrongly. There was an extra, unaccountable one.

It was Aoko.

Pulling off her helmet, her hair swept across her face and fell back over her shoulder.

"Kaitou Kid." Aoko muttered.

On the roof, on the bloody roof indeed, Kaito slowly lowered the jewel and let his arm swing loosely to his side.

Her fear…?

"An interesting costume today, Nakamori-san." He said.

Aoko replied nothing.

He wanted to question why she was here, but he couldn't afford to stay long, especially not after that bomb incident and knowing how Snake could possibly strike and screw everything up again. He couldn't take the risk. He had to go.

He cleared his throat. "It's a pleasure seeing you after so long, but I'll have to bid my goodby—"

"Don't jump." Aoko spoke, cutting him off.

Kaito blinked.

"If you jump, I'm afraid I can't reach you." She continued, her lips were starting to tremble. "This is the furthest I can go."

Now that he noticed, her legs were trembling too.

Then… why?

"I don't understand." Kaitou Kid said.

"Don't go to a place where I can't reach you, Kaito." Aoko clutched onto the helmet against her chest, as though preventing her heart from falling out. Her tears already did, though.

Kaito's breath hitched.

How?

What?

Why?

"Please." Aoko continued. "This time, why don't you trust me?"

What a mess.

When did she figure him out? Was it during that school excursion? Trust me. Was is these two words that caused the slip up?

Or the way he hold onto her when they jumped?

The familiarity?

Either way, it was all busted.

Should he run away?

Kaito swallowed, his feet shifting towards the edge of the roof as he hid the jewel inside his pocket, preparing for flight.

"Don't jump." Aoko pleaded again.

Another wind blew, and it was getting stronger. Based on his experiences, if he were to jump, his glider might not be able to hold it; and this all felt like the nature was trying to tell him something:

He shouldn't jump.

So instead, he tilted his feet back towards Aoko and took off his hat and monocle.

"Okay." Kaito said.

He didn't jump.

#kaiao #detective conan #kuroba kaito #nakamori aoko #dcmk #balancingdietwrites

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ninaahelvar · 6 years

Text

The Stakeout (2/5)

Summary: In order to get all the information they can, the detective duo, Bakugou and Uraraka, must go on a stakeout. But close proximity may force some underlying feelings to come to the surface. Also known as “Bakugou had a really bad date and it gives him perspective”

AO3

A/N: Look, I said to myself this chapter would be easy. It, in fact, wasn't. I wanna make the excuse that I've been so sick that writing hasn't been happening - which is true - but I've had an allergic reaction in my hands for the past few days and guess when most of the writing has been happening? Yeah. Anyway. Sorry. Big fucking shoutout to @doesitsaysassonmyuniform who helped plan and write a lot of this chapter when I became super blocked. You're my lifesaver and I would die for you. Anyway, hope everyone likes this chapter! Enjoy! xx

Two days had passed, and it had become acutely aware to Bakugou that Uraraka would be the death of him. Being cramped with her in a shitty rundown motel room was testing his patience, and his resolve to never get arrested for murder. Especially if she kept fucking sighing like a wistful woman waiting for someone to save her sorry ass. She was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, her head knocking against the wood as another hour passed. Another sigh escaped her, and Bakugou snapped.

“Would you shut the fuck up!” he spat at her from the chair. He peered over the computer screen, watching the unmoving alleyway for the one thousandth time. Uraraka sighed dramatically again and Bakugou huffed, letting himself sink back into his chair and let his head hang back as he watched her. She walked lazily towards the bed.

The room wasn’t particularly big, a king sized bed against the wall, a small space that they had set up their computer system against the window, but just out of sight from those on the street. Being on the third floor, it would be hard to look in - but still, they were cautious. They had a small entrance hall where most of their food was put each morning along with the coffee. But they all hated it, preferring to go to the shop across the street. Then, there was only space for a bathroom the size of a broom closet, managing to squeeze in a bathtub with the shower extension on the wall - one Bakugou only just managed to fit under if he tilted his head - as well as the toilet beside it and a small ass mirror and sink. There was barely room to breathe in the cramped space.

“I hate stakeouts,” Uraraka groaned as she flopped down on the single king size. She bounced a few times before her weight settled into the mattress. “They’re always so boring.” Her voice was muffled, but her exasperation made it through loud and clear.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Round Face?” he sniped, and Uraraka perked, rolling onto her side and facing him. “It was two fucking days ago when you said you loved stakeouts,” he scoffed and Uraraka huffed.

“I forgot the waiting!” she whined, rolling straight off the bed and onto the floor. She hit the floor hard, even though she could have easily stopped herself. Bakugou rubbed at the bridge of his nose - how the hell was she his partner again? “Being stuck with you for hours on end is like my own circle of hell.” The drawl of her mocking tone teased him. When he turned to her, he snarled, seeing her scrunching up her nose at him.

“As if - I’m a fucking delight!” He caught Uraraka’s lips curve into a smile, before a chuckle escaped her which turned into a buckling laugh that had her back down on the floor. He rolled his eyes, and went back to the work, watching the stupid security door that had seen no activity other than a man pissing up the side of the wall.

In his periphery Bakugou saw her sit up, dragging her limbs in some fit of melodrama. He tried to pay attention to the security feed, but fuck if this shit wasn’t boring. At least he’d accepted what this stupid stakeout meant, instead of wasting time bitching over something they couldn’t control. They’d been over this routine a million times before - the anticipation of a case, the adrenaline that it could happen at any moment.

But, it always ended in silence and the long wait for something other than a rat scrounging around for food. The pair left the day with the knowledge that there were a fucktonne of bricks in the building across the street, and that the ceiling was in fact painted an off white and not eggshell like Uraraka kept suggesting. That argument almost ended with their last coffee pot being thrown against the wall, but they successfully worked around that issue with a colour guide online. For the first time since being caught in the motel with her, Bakugou slept more than four hours. Managing a solid seven before Uraraka woke him with singing.

She really couldn’t carry a tune. Or even have good song choice. He didn’t even want to make out the words, some fucking weird shit about love and moonlight and dancing or some shit. Bakugou groaned and rolled off the bed, finding his shit and moving to the bathroom to drown out her voice. He was lucky that Kirishima was taking a shift that day, because if Bakugou had to deal with her - in all context of the word - he might end up jumping out the fucking window.

The swapping shift happened throughout the day, alternating between Bakugou, Uraraka, and Kirishima more than any other officer. Shitty hair had no open cases, and Kaminari was too shit scared of Bakugou to even step foot in another stakeout situation with him. Bakugou was happy for the relief.

They had an arrangement of screens with different views surrounding the building. With cameras all aimed at the rusting old roller door, the alley under heavy surveillance, it would be a miracle if these idiots didn’t get caught - every entrance and exit covered, even the manholes were being looked at for any shady dealings. They weren’t losing this lead, not for the world.

Uraraka stepped out, saying she needed to leave the motel room for a few hours to pick up more clothes - as the short supply of clothes she had was not sufficient enough. Bakugou would agree on that, as she was stretching her clothes thin with the smell. She wasn’t exactly reeking of body odor, but they wouldn’t hold up the entire fucking time, especially if this stupid stakeout dragged the fuck on anymore.

In the meantime, Bakugou took the opportunity to exercise. Although he couldn’t leave the motel room, he could use it to push his body in any sort of limit and constraints. Using the doorframe to do pull ups, and watching as Kirishima skimmed through the selection of videos - rewinding and fast forwarding to make sure the night crew didn’t miss anything.

Shifting from doing that, Bakugou went down to the ground, propping his body up onto his hands and his legs into the air. He held his core tight and began to push his body up and down. The room was small, and facing anything than Kirishima was hard as fuck. So, all he had to watch was shitty hair scroll endlessly, trying to be discreet on his phone in front of Bakugou. He was failing, like the idiot he was.

Kirishima was supposed to be looking through the screens when his phone started to buzz. Bakugou rolled his eyes as he let his legs fall down on the ground. He took a breath before moving towards Kirishima and smacking him over the back of the head, bringing the shitty haired detective back to reality.

“Are you talking to that alien girl again?” Bakugou snapped.

“Mina?” he asked back. Bakugou rolled his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest.

“I don’t fucking know. Why the hell are you talking to her when we’re on a fucking stakeout?”

“Cause there’s nothing to do, man! Nothings happened so far, I can respond to a text,” Kirishima chuckled to himself as he hid his phone from sight. In a split second, he watched shitty hair’s face drop and his entire being turn the shade of his hair, “maybe I can’t,” he said under his breath, sliding his phone quickly back into his pocket.

“If you are getting nudes sent to you right now, leave the fucking room,” Bakugou scowled, watching as Kirishima try to adjust himself in the chair. If this fucking asshole had a boner...

“Just because you have a case of blue balls doesn’t mean I have to suffer,” Kirishima smirked, standing up and fixing up his shirt, patting at Bakugou’s shoulder, “and since you let me go...I have to reply,” he said with the cock of his eyebrow. Bakugou’s stomach turned.

“I don’t need to fucking know that.” He heard Kirishima laughing down the hall. God, he wished he had better friends. If he could even consider that spikey haired idiot that - especially after…

Fuck that bastard.

Bakugou wanted to blast a hole in the wall to let out his frustration, but he couldn’t. There were very little things that made Bakugou as angry as that night did, but embarrassment fucking does that and Bakugou couldn’t live it down. He hated this entire thing. And stuck with the two people that know and want to know was going to kill him. He might as well sabotage the fucking mission just to die and get away from those morons.

The rest of the day consisted of their normal routine - watching, waiting, and trying to entertain themselves. Well, moreso Uraraka trying to entertain herself and making Bakugou join her. He was focused...but he wouldn’t admit that she sure did make the hours pass by far quicker when she was being stupid and wanting to annoy him. Kirishima came and went, taking Uraraka’s mind from the task at hand, which left Bakugou sitting slumped at the screen and trying to go through footage the group could have missed. All in all...nothing was happening.

Night finally dragged itself in, and the long ass wait made sure boredom set in, stifling all higher thought and reasoning. Kirishima had left, managing to refill the coffee machine in the next room, and made sure to bring up those spicy buns that Bakugou had been craving. At least the guy was good for something after all. Left to themselves, the partners stayed in silence.

No. that was a lie. Bakugou stayed silent. Uraraka filled the silence with chatter - the silence that he enjoyed, she despised - especially around Bakugou it seemed. She was rattling on about her dad, then how her first kiss was a disaster, and that she hated clothing companies - but in the midst of it, Bakugou felt his headache increasing, slowly...and surely, turning into a fucking tumour.

“Why won’t you at least pay attention to me? I’m trying to entertain myself here. We’re on a mission that lasts way too lo-”

“Shut up, round face, I’m not talking about your shitty life anymore.”

She sighed again, finally sitting her ass down into the chair beside him, the little puff of air making his empty protein bar wrapper shuffle down the desk. His hand smacked down on it instinctively, and he snorted as she jumped.

“Someone’s wound up tight huh?” he said, leaning back in his chair and glancing briefly in her direction. Uraraka’s face was pinched - the way it always was when he was right - and she glared up at him from her slump deep into the seat.

“You act as though you haven’t spent the last ten minutes counting the bricks on the wall across the street. Again.”

It had been the cracks this time, but she didn’t need to know that.

“You got a better idea dipshit? Not like we can slack off now. Aizawa would slit our throats if we lost this one.” Uraraka nodded, agreeing with him on that. The pair had been successful in many other cases, but this one had been dragged out too long - if they lost it, Aizawa would probably fire them both. And Bakugou was making sure that shitty scenario was not coming true.

Uraraka thought for a moment before she pouted and tilted her head to the side. “I spy with my little eye -”

“No. I’m not guessing fucking ‘door’ again.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose as Uraraka kicked her legs, her toes scraping across the old carpet, contemplating her next torturous game. She tilted her head back and forth, stretching back in her swivel chair, then she twirled around, speaking as she started to spin.

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Fuck no.”

Uraraka stopped, kicking at the wheel of his chair. She crossed her arms over her chest as she slumped back down into her chair, watching the night bring in the indistinguishable surroundings. “You’re no fun.”

“Jump out the window.”

She huffed, and once again they returned to their silent vigil. Then, as though all the silence was suffocating to be in, she crashed through it with a question that nearly knocked Bakugou out of his fucking chair.

“So what did you do to her anyway?” Uraraka said, and Bakugou didn’t dare to turn. He knew exactly what she was on about, and this was not the time or place for this shit to be unpacked. Especially with Uraraka.

Like hell he was talking about this. He was bored, but he wasn’t that bored. “None of your business.”

Uraraka urged herself forward, pulling herself right beside Bakugou - the distance was less than an inch. God, she was being really fucking nosy about all this. “So you’ll talk to Deku about it, but not me?”

“I didn’t talk to Deku about it. Just needed the nerd to pick me up,” he replied in a snap, knowing his temper was getting the best of him. He really hated the fact that Deku was brought into all of this. Actually, he fucking despised the fact that Deku was brought up at all.

“And handle the public disturbance report,” she reminded.

“Tch, it wasn’t even that bad,” he replied, arms folded over his chest. Uraraka laughed, smacking him in the shoulder. Bakugou turned to her, eyes narrowed and angry.

“But it was bad. I mean, the wine stains could’ve told me that.”

“Why are you even asking? So it was a bad date - not like you haven’t had any of those. I don’t ask you for the details.” He scoffed as he turned back to the screens, hands bound into biceps as he held himself back. He wanted to explode the entire room, watch it go up in smoke just so this fucking conversation ended like two minutes ago. But that didn’t happen, and Uraraka kept pushing.

“You never date! It’s the most exciting thing you’ve done since you bought that new TV.” He doesn’t date…but he gets his needs met.

“So? At least I don’t go around with every single fucking guy in the department.” He noted them a few times over the years. It just never occurred to him how much that fact irritated him.

“I so haven’t!” Uraraka laughed. Bakugou scowled.

“You so have.”

“I spy with my little eye a jealous guy,” she laughed, poking her tongue out and acting all cutesy. It was weird, her chin resting in her palm as she edged herself even closer to him than before. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Jealous? Of fucking who? Not like I wanna date the American from accounting.”

Uraraka seemed to pause, her face searching for something written in his own. Bakugou furrowed his brow as she kept staring. Then, she scoffed, pushing her hair out of her face. “You’re hopeless. I’m getting coffee,” she sighed and stood up, moving out of the room quickly.

“No sugar this time, you fucking pussy. And make sure they make it extra hot,” Bakugou shouted back to her, but for all he knew, she’d already up and fucked off to do god knows what. She flipped him off as she left, turning to give him a bright smile as she backed out the door.

Uraraka returned to the room, two coffees in hand and handing one to Bakugou, exactly how he liked. No sugar. Just plain old black coffee just the way it should be. Plus, it kept him alert for these long nights with no company. Not as though he cared much for company, but staying alert was all he craved during those times.

As midnight came and went, Uraraka wound up in bed, ungraceful and kept to herself as her sleep crept in. He didn’t notice it at all at first until she became the obnoxiously loud partner he was used to. Loud snores caught in his ears, the room dark except for the bright light of the computer screens in front of him. Even in sleep, she had to make sure she gave him a fucking headache. At least she was consistent. Bakugou’s eyes had started itching about five seconds after the snores had started. Fucking figures. He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes again as he did a quick survey of the room, unused to feeling so strangely exposed in such a tiny motel room.

Uraraka was cuddled in the bed, curling herself in the sheets as though to cacoon herself in the heavy blankets. If she didn’t snore, it would almost look cute. Bakugou knew from experience though that any and all cuteness would disappear when she woke up, like a troll emerging from under it’s bridge. She snorted in her sleep, rolling over in a sprawl that made his spine ache in jealousy. He wanted to fucking move, to do something other than sit on his ass and watch the grass grow - or at least get some god damn shut eye. Instead, he slapped awareness into his face and stared at the screen again, clicking through the various feeds to make sure everything was in order.

And of course it was - because within the three - or was it four now? - days they had spent in that shitty motel room, not a single fucking thing had happened. If it wasn’t for Bakugou’s absolute faith in his partner’s ability to scare the truth out of people, he’d be concerned they’d pulled a fast one on them. It had been so quiet, of all the things Bakugou missed, he found himself missing the games the Uraraka had pushed him to play.

Under the circumstances, however, Bakugou wanted to go over everything. He had studied the alley so thoroughly that by the third day he’d figured out most of the locals routines, just in case something came up. It hadn’t.

In fact, the most exciting moment they’d had was some extra hanging around the back of the building, looking all shifty. Turns out the guy was just looking for a place to piss. And then...shit. Gross and illegal for sure, but not anything actually related to their drug bust. If it hadn’t risked their position, Bakugou would have blasted the fucker to kingdom come for the sheer pleasure of it.

Other than that, they’d had a solid nothing since they’d arrived, and if something didn’t happen soon, he might just end up killing his partner for something to do.

“Wound up tight huh?”

Maybe she wasn’t the only one. He knew himself better than that.

He knew he wasn’t only talking to her.

As the night wore on, Bakugou kept a long watch, desperately waiting for when Kirishima would come to relieve him of his shift, but refusing to let it show. There was no one there to see it, but the idea of having it be so clear how obviously exhausted he’d become was unacceptable. To pass the time, he’d taken to sneaking glances at his partner - the way she’d contort herself around the blankets, or how she’d begun drooling around hour four. When that became boring, he’d started a small game of how many bits of stationary he could throw at her without her stirring.

His current record was seven paper balls, two pens and a useless eraser. He’d scoured all the desk drawers, and the most exciting thing he’d found was a box of paper clips. Hour six had been dedicated to his new found hobby of paper clip ornaments. And paperclip jewelry. And paperclip throwing.

His new record by hour seven was ten paper balls, two pens, an eraser, and five paper clips.

Bakugou was in for the final swing, paperclip in motion when Kirishima opened the door, a box of energy drinks tucked under his arm and a coffee cup in his hand. His eyes widened as he took in the scene, and Bakugou fought the urge to curl protectively over his hoard of stationary. Instead, he leant back as casually as he could, giving a quick survey of the screens, the room, the bed, before finally bringing his eyes up to meet his friend’s.

“Long night buddy?” Kirishima said, and moved around the desk, “wound up tight, huh?” God, why did he have to go and say that? No. He wasn’t. Even if he - No! Bakugou wasn’t wound up tight. Personality...maybe, but whatever Kirishima was insinuating - no. Bakugou wasn’t wound up tight.

“Tch, as if,” he scoffed, pushing away from the desk and standing up. He tried to hide his grimace as his entire spine cracked.

“Right. Well, I got you covered now. Take a nap dude,” he said and Bakugou pushed past him, seeing the space on the bed that looked so fucking welcoming, it may be the only thing that Bakugou would ever consider marrying.

Oh thank god was the last thing Bakugou remembered before he pushed his partner aside and collapsed onto the bed, paperclips digging into his skin as he passed out. But in the midst of the discomfort, he didn’t care. That bed, with it’s weird hard spots and lumps, was the most comfortable thing in existence.

It was hours later that he woke. He had the strangest feeling, as though he was being watched. Stalked. Something just didn’t feel right. He didn’t want his eyes to open. He didn’t even want to move, but there was an unmistakable presence at his chest. In his arms, he felt the soft press of a body against his own. Bakugou had worked out different types of warmth, his body needed to recognise every type in order to understand his quirk better. He knew what human warmth felt like. And that was definitely it.

He peeked his eye open, still exhausted and unwilling to cooperate with him, but the sight he found was one he expected. Uraraka was fast asleep at his chest, giving out small puffs of air as she slept silently in his arms. In the midst of his realisation of what was happening, it became even more apparent, that Uraraka was not the one that had found herself there...Bakugou was the one keeping her in place. His grip on her was solid and tight.

And she was comfortable, head cradled perfectly into his chest, and to his surprise, she wasn’t floating away. He knew she had ways of falling asleep that prevented her from using her quirk in her sleep - like she used to do - but he didn’t realise she did this. Her left hand was bound to the bottom of her shirt, scrunched in tight, and the other was tightly gripped into Bakugou’s shirt, as though she didn’t want him to move.

But he had to.

He had to get the fuck out of this situation.

Feeling frustrated that his ears were scorching hot, he lifted his hands from her body, slipping out from underneath her and let her fall into the sheets. He thought maybe he needed to get her to loosen her grip on him, but her hand fell away and she curled up on the other side of the bed, in her own dreams once more. Bakugou managed to take himself from the bed without waking her and he sighed in relief, turning to go to the bathroom to shower.

And the feeling of being watched was fucking accurate as he caught the shit eating grin on Kirishima’s face, feet resting on the top of the desk and cup of coffee in his hands. He was enjoying this far too much. It made Bakugou want to fire off a blast at the hardened idiot.

“So -” he started, bringing the coffee to his lips. Bakugou started towards the bathroom, grabbing his towel on the way.

“Not a fucking word,” Bakugou snapped, voice hushed to keep Uraraka from waking.

It wasn’t until Bakugou was in the bathroom did he realise he had done that, all for her benefit. He didn’t kick her out of the bed - which he should have done. He didn’t yell at her for not being awake, he instead kept her asleep. What was wrong with him? He’d done it before - let her sleep, rest in his arms as sleep guided them both into comfort. Even…

He couldn’t think about that night again. He said he wouldn’t. But why the fuck was her face the same as it had been that night? Why was that image stuck in Bakugou’s mind of the soft round face giving out light puffs of air as she breathed. In the shower, he let the heat wash over him, wanting the image to fade. It didn’t. So...he counted the tiles on the wall, angrily muttering to himself as he pushed the thoughts aside.

Counting seemed like something that helped. Dressing when he was still wet helped as well, because everything was gross and figuring out how the fuck to put clothes on a damp body was a challenge in itself. Fixing up the bottom of his shirt, he opened the door to be met with a feral looking Uraraka. Her hair stuck out at all angles and the bags under her eyes were deep. She looked like shit - she got like twelve hours, and if Bakugou didn’t know any better he’d say she’d been in a fucking fight.

“Finally!” she called out and Bakugou grimaced at her.

“Not my fault you slept in, round face,” he said, finger nudging at the centre of her head. She swatted it away, anger building in her eyes.

“Ha-ha, very funny, stop getting in my way,” she said, trying to edge her away around him, but Bakugou stepped a foot in her way. It made him smile to himself. “I will float you,” she warned as her eyes narrowed in on him.

“Like to see you try,” he said with a smirk, hand crackling at his side as a challenge.

“Bakugou, can you see if this person is suspicious or not,” Kirishima called weakly and Bakugou rolled his eyes, stepping aside for her.

“Lucky you, duty fucking calls,” he said, already being pushed out of the way and the door was slammed behind her. Bakugou slowly walked to Kirishima and sat in the chair opposite him. “What’s up?”

“I wanted the flirting to stop,” Kirishima said, reclining back into the chair.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Dude, c’mon,” Kirishima looked at Bakugou as though he were lying - a defiant look of seriously written into his tough features. “There was a moment. Especially with the whole -”

“Don’t say it,” Bakugou warned.

“-cuddling thing. You have to admit you’re not as ‘lone-wolf’ as you appear.”

Bakugou sighed, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes. “It wasn’t a moment shitty hair - you need to stop reading those trashy magazines.”

“Ah but the trashy magazines are usually right. You telling me you don’t see the signals you two are putting out?” Kirishima asked, the frustration leaking through his normally sunny disposition.

“We aren’t like that, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. It’s fucking round face. Now shut up and don’t talk until you start to make sense.”

Kirishima groaned, taking a moment to rub his eyes before he pushed away from the desk. “I’m getting coffee.” His hands were raised as he left the desk, as though he were defeated by the conversation. Or had enough of it. Bakugou could agree with him there. Bakugou didn’t even try to protest his excus-

Wait...didn’t the fucker have a coffee not fifteen minute before hand?

The door swung closed behind Kirishima, and Bakugou was left staring blankly at the camera feed. He didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about; if Round Face was really into him, and if by some fucking weird mistake he was into her, than wouldn’t it have happened already? They’d been partners for years now, and he’d never even really thought about it as an option. She was his partner, and that was that.

Even if she was, he supposed, not as shitty as the rest of them.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, slumped into the chair and thoughts racing a million miles an hour. It was only broken when Uraraka returned, towel scrubbing at her wet hair.

“Where’d Kirishima go?” she asked, and it made Bakugou jump. He ignored the grin on her face when she noticed.

“He left to get coffee and do fuck knows what else. I don’t know when he’s gonna be back.” He answered.

“Oh okay.”

She sat down next to him, the smell of the shitty shampoo they’d brought lingering past him. It wasn’t as though he cared, but it felt weird to smell it on her this time around. She smelled like him, and he like her - constantly in orbit of each other, never able to separate from each other’s gravity.

He looked over at her, sneaking a glance as she tied her wet hair back. She wasn’t… unattractive, really. But he’d never really thought to notice her looks before, beyond the initial “who the fuck is this” that had occured when they’d met. He’d even heard some of the guys talk about her before, not that he cared to listen, and he could kind of see why.

It bothered him, that this was suddenly brought to his attention, and he spent the rest of his shift pissed and distracted. Signals? What fucking signals?

It was nothing. Kirishima could say what he wanted, it didn’t mean that he knew anything about what Bakugou might’ve been feeling.

What did shitty hair know anyway?

The day dragged on, as many had before, and Uraraka seemingly more alert than ever - like a rabbit unable to stay still in its cage, constantly rattling around and bouncing off the walls. In this case, it was kind of true, because whenever Uraraka would float, she’d use the walls and ceiling as her own personal springboards. It was funny the first few times, now it was just like watching a crazy woman hang around his room. He wasn’t much better, setting off small explosions on his fingertips to see if he could beat his record of how quickly he could burn paper.

It was cut down to three seconds from when he was a teenager. Back then, he had less control. Now he was trained, more skilled, more precise. He was a master of his own craft. When it came time for the night, it was Bakugou’s turn to crash. Admittedly, even though his sleep earlier in the day was well and good, he craved sleeping alone, to forget the press on his body. Uraraka gave a reassuring grin to set him on his way, but that smile was meant for anyone other than him - he never felt like everything was going to go smoothly. So, he waited, rest far away from him.

Bakugou crawled into bed, curling the heavy duvet over him and just peeking his head out to allow himself fresh air.

He watched her for some time, sleep so far away, he didn’t think it’d ever fucking come. But in the midst of it all, he watched her fumble and fiddle with whatever was on the desk. He found her utterly distracting, a complete waste of agency time. Yet, he found the moments where she focused, sifting through footage as they all did, and practicing small defensive actions that she knew needed work.

And so did Bakugou.

As she continued, making small notes they needed for reports, he watched as Uraraka let her lip catch in between her teeth, finger playing with the long strands of hair. It twirled around her finger in spirals, flicking as the strands ended, and continued on. When she was lost in thought, there was something strangely delicate about her. She was by no means fragile or on the verge of shattering sort of delicate - but the kind that needed to be tended to, like a flower. And it made him furious. That wasn’t who she was - she wasn’t delicate or fragile.

But for a moment, a single moment, when the moon was just right or something, she was...angelic.

It wasn’t much longer that Uraraka went about fixing up her earpiece, and sleep took Bakugou calmly.

Sleep was sound until the hum of an alarm started to vibrate against the bed, waking him up quickly. Bakugou wasn’t one to burst from his bed, so when he heard the consistent soft thuds echoing around the room, he sprung up from his bed. He had a fear - an odd fear to say the least - that he had slept through a fucking fight and the detectives watching over everything dangling from the ceiling fans, hitting the wall as the wind blew by.

Instead, when Bakugou jolted up, he found Uraraka’s head hitting against the desk, groaning to herself. “What the fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, voice hoarse from sleep. He tore the blankets from his torso as Uraraka shot up from the desk and cleared her throat.

“Nothing. I wasn’t contemplating how I would hypothetically kill someone,” she sighed,

“If it’s Kugizaki, factor me into your plan,” Bakugou smirked and Uraraka giggled, covering her mouth as she yawned.

“As if you wouldn’t be,” she said in between the sighs, eager for sleep in every breath. Bakugou felt himself yawn in response to her. She laughed a little before gesturing towards the bathroom. “Can I -”

“Sure. You stink anyway,” he said and Uraraka punched as his shoulder.

“Thanks,” she rolled her eyes, pushing past him. Bakugou shook his head and moved to the screens, filtering through the random people that scattered about, any clues that they may have missed - like people repeatedly showing up in the alley. There had only been a few and they worked in the area so they didn’t really give a shit about those particular people. And yet, after five fucking days, there was still nothing. He didn’t know how people stayed on stakeouts for months at a time when this bullshit was exhausting already.

As Uraraka was in the shower, Bakugou had time to work out, build up a sweat and go take a shower that would benefit his overheated body. He felt the need to earn his shower that day. It was the little things when death was the only other escape from the endless torture of a brick wall on all sides. On the doorframe that could have been bowed from his constant workouts, he started to do pull ups, focusing on his arm strength, how it felt to hold the weight. He managed to turn the screens to him, watching the live feed as he worked out was better than just sitting on his ass.

When sweat pooled on his body, he needed a second to relax. Getting back down onto solid ground, he took off his shirt, rubbing it over his face and chest. He was about to jump back up when Uraraka came out from the bathroom, towel around her shoulders. She had suddenly stopped, watching what he was doing.

“So...what the hell is happening right now?” she asked after a moment’s silence between them.

“Work out, idiot. Isn’t that obvious?” he snarled. She nodded, moving to the desk and getting on with her work. She tilted the screens back to her as to get back into the investigation. Bakugou jumped up again finding the balance he had before on the small space and crossed his ankles to provide himself with a better lift.

When he found the right grip, he pulled himself up as far as he could, face almost to the ceiling before he stayed there for a few seconds, ten at the most for his first before releasing and resting back to stretch out. After a few of these reps, he felt himself being watched - like Kirishima had been doing, but far less tactful. He glanced to the screens to see Uraraka staring at him, watching as he continued to work.

“Oi, round face, what’s with the look?” he grunted, resting back down to see her clearly. She cleared her throat, going back to hiding behind the screens.

“Nothing.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes before getting back to it, adjusting him on the frame and finding his pace again. It wasn’t long before the stares began, her eyes peering up from the screen as she inspected him like a fucking lab rat. Bakugou hated it.

“Oh? Cause it looks like someone took a shit on your dog,” he snarled before dropping down to the floor.

“My what- I’m not even answering that,” she groaned, sitting back in her chair.

“Seriously though, what the fuck is up with you?” he asked, wiping his face down with his hand.

“I’m just. Restless. You aren’t helping.” She avoided his eye and he scowled.

“Why didn’t you say so round face. We could spar,” he said, gesturing for her to get up. She suddenly looked up at him, a flush of red racing over her face that he’d rarely seen before.

“No.”

“Bet I could bench press ya,” he smirked and Uraraka sank in her chair, keeping herself grounded.

“No!” she snapped.

“Geez, the fuck is your problem?” he asked, getting

“I’m getting coffee, take over -” she said, already getting up and out of the room, the door to the hallway swung open as she went off.

“Fuckin - Round face! Come on!” he called, but she was too far gone to get back without blowing up the building with his shouts. “Fuck this,” Bakugou muttered to himself. From the edge of the hall, Kirishima came into view, looking over his shoulder as though he had seen Uraraka leave. The shitty bastard had his face stuffed with junk from vending machines, indulging in his time spent in hiding, it seemed. “Kirishima! Take over,” Bakugou said, gesturing to the computer. Kirishima’s brow furrowed as he came into the room and dumped the junk on the desk.

“What? Why?” he muttered, mouth full with food. Bakugou grimaced.

“I need to shower and Uraraka fucking went AWOL,” he said, grabbing at his things. He growled as he looked back to the empty hallway. “Why does everyone in this fucking room always need coffee!” he snapped, getting to the bathroom and slamming the door behind himself.

By the time Bakugou’s shower was finished, he found Uraraka and Kirishima back to their spot behind the computer. Uraraka was paying less attention than Kirishima, her mind focusing on making a long chain link of paperclips, the building bundle on the floor around her. Bakugou pulled himself together, settling into the bed as he put on his boots. He didn’t know what his day had in store, but he had a feeling something big was going to go down.

The night of an uneventful day drew in, Kirishima heading down for some dinner, it was only Bakugou and Uraraka. Bakugou was scooting his chair around the room, trying his hardest not to blast himself from corner to corner to see if he could set a record. Uraraka rested her cheek on the desk, puffing it up as she waded through endless footage. When Bakugou was on the edge of propelling himself out the window, Uraraka lurched up from her spot and stopped Bakugou in his tracks.

“Hey, come here,” she urged, and he followed, moving around to her side, “one of the cameras is out,” Uraraka commented, pointing to the broken feed that showed nothing but a black screen. Bakugou shrugged, moving away.

“We’ve got the rest of the alley covered, don’t worry about it.”

Uraraka bit her lip, looking back at him. “Are you sure? We could lose something. What if they take another entrance?”

“Then one of the other cameras will catch it. If we’re seen down there, we could spook someone off, just leave it,” he grunted, getting up and arching his aching back. “I have to piss, can you guys make sure we’re covered?” he ordered more than asked.

“Sure,” she said, glancing out the window once more before turning back to the screens.

He felt like he didn’t take much time at all, but when he came out, the whole room felt changed. It was empty, chairs pushed aside and there was something very much off about the whole scene. Something in Bakugou’s gut told him that this wasn’t going to be good. He was already getting ready to call for backup when Kirishima came into the room, a slight yawn as he entered.

“Where’s round face?” Bakugou asked quickly. Kirishima was surprised by the sudden question and gestured over his shoulder.

“She said she was getting coffee,” Kirishima gestured over his shoulder. Bakugou raced to the desk, roaming through the live feeds and cursing.

“That fucking bitch,” Bakugou muttered to himself as he pulled on his bomber jacket.

“What?” Kirishima asked.

“She’s fixing the camera,” Bakugou spat, pointing to the feed that showed Uraraka sneaking into the alley to find the camera. That idiot. That fucking idiot.

Bakugou stormed out of the room, racing down to the alley as fast as he could. The stairs prevented him from flying all the way down without delay. Instead, he skipped as many stairs as he could before he made his way out of the motel. He rounded the corner from the main street, finding the alley dark and uninviting to the average idiot, but Bakugou was pissed.

Storming the alley, he searched for Uraraka - why did that idiot think she could get the camera to work without being seen. She put the damn thing up there with her -

No.

Fuck no.

If she was -

She was.

Bakugou looked up to where the camera was positioned and found Uraraka at least ten feet off the ground - or something to that effect. She was fiddling with the thing, positioned just right, against the brickwork to help her have some control over the entire thing. If this wasn’t so fucking stupid, Bakugou would have commended her for thinking on her feet. Instead, he jumped up and grabbed her ankle. Uraraka yelped, putting the camera back into position quickly.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, yanking her down. Uraraka deactivated her quirk, falling into Bakugou and trying to stand her ground. He didn’t realise how small she was compared to him - the difference making him how aware how imposing she had to be in order for her to break people.

“I’m fixing the camera,” she snapped, raising her chin. “Which I did, if you cared.” Something felt off about the alley - that there was heat in the air that he couldn’t pinpoint.

“We are not fucking up this mission cause you’re bored,” he snapped at her. The feeling was rising, like the slow crawl of sweat down his spine.

“I’m not -”

“Shut up.”

Bakugou turned, glancing down the alley. He could have sworn...

Looking the opposite direction, it was clearer now. He heard the shuffle, the unmistakable sound of voices, and their destination at the start of the alleyway. Instinct was all he had. Shoving Uraraka back, he didn’t give her much time to think, as he pressed his hand into her waist and the other tried to steady against the metal garage door. He lowered his head to hers, disguising their intention as nothing but a couple finding a dark spot to steal away together. When he turned briefly, the people at the brink of the alley were gone, and they were in the clear.

What Bakugou hadn’t anticipated was the sweat that slicked over his hand, as to when he turned to Uraraka to spit words of anger and frustration, he slipped. When he had turned back, hand unstable and making him lower than he was before, his lips met her cheek and the pair froze. It was unexpected, and definitely not fucking welcome. It took them both a minute to recover, but Uraraka’s face was way more fucking pink than it had been just a few moments before.

Her breath was so warm against his cheek, he thought of when it last touched him - the closeness of a night filled with alcohol and lost memories for her. He remembered it clearly. Still, she had a way of shaking him down, mesmerizing him with the simplest action, and she barely managed to do anything.

Clearing her throat, Uraraka snuck out from his hold and tucked one of her long strands before her ear. “Nice...save…” she said clearing her throat again, and went back to the motel. Bakugou wasn’t sure what to do. Why were his hands way more sweaty than they had been before? And why didn’t he know what do with them, as they moved from his pockets to the back of his neck and he was unable to stop clenching them together.

What the fuck just happened?

Bakugou felt like he was missing something - that there was a reason he was feeling so….fucking flustered. He never got flustered. He had never even used the fucking word but now he was feeling it! He felt weird and unable to figure out what the fuck was going on. When he got back to the motel, Bakugou found the one person he never wanted to interact with after these stupid moments. Shitty….fucking…..hair.

“So….you gonna tell me what happened down there?” he said, a small shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Bakugou’s hands started to steam as he clenched them tighter.

“Don’t fucking talk about i-”

“No, seriously dude, what happened? Did you finally make a move?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kirishima buckled for a moment, the shock of the question catching him off guard. Bakugou felt his eyes narrow, questioning his so called friend.

“I thought you -” he stammered.

“We’re not talking about it. Drop the subject, idiot,” Bakugou snarled, pushing past him to get to the room. When inside, Uraraka was under the sheets, body hidden from view and possibly from Bakugou. He didn’t blame her. He hid himself behind the computer screens, the thought of them catching sight of each other that night was a little more than he could take.

It wasn’t long before he heard the soft breaths of Uraraka asleep, quietly humming as she rested. Bakugou hadn’t dared to look her way for some time, but when an hour passed, no snoring and the absence of her restlessness, he became curious. Peering over the top.

Watching her now felt wrong - as though it was something he should be embarrassed about. Bakugou wasn’t embarrassed, but the way the small puff escaped her, a peaceful night sleep coming to her before her snores started, he felt captivated by her. She was something weird and mysterious to him, that he needed to keep an eye on her in order to watch all the mystical and wonderful things he could.

Uraraka was his partner above everything else. He didn’t see her as a family member, he didn’t see her in any other light. It was rare to even consider her a friend.

When Bakugou thought something big was going to happen that day….he didn’t think it would be this.

Kirishima arrived the next morning, silent compared to his usual self. It didn’t bother Bakugou, but he knew why the shitty haired detective was like that. Instead of stewing in the weird space Kirishima was making, Bakugou went out, going to grab breakfast for himself. He didn’t even bother trying to wake Uraraka up - there wasn’t a point this early. All he wanted to do was eat something, have a shower and get on with his day.

When he was on his way back, he started to snack on his food, eating most of it by the time he got back. When he was instead, the sheets to the bed were all thrown to one side, and the shower was running.

Really round face?

Kirishima stayed seated, barely flinching as Bakugou charged at the door, kicking at the base of it. Bakugou slammed his hand into the door, the heavy thuds making it shake in its frame. “Oi Round Face, hurry the fuck up in there! Some of us need to shower too you selfish bitch.”

The sound of the shower seemed to get louder - she must've turned the water up. Bakugou knew these shitty motel rooms and they always had terrible hot water supplies. No way was he letting her use it all - they’d both had a long night. “Hey! Don’t make me come in there! I’ll drag your ass out - this door won’t save you.”

“Fuck off!” It was drowned out by the shower, but it was unmistakable.

Right. Well. He’d had enough. He may have felt embarrassed the night before after that stupid slip up, but Bakugou was never one to let something like that hold him back for long. “You have three seconds to cover yourself or I’m getting a free show of your shitty body.”

He warned, mentally clocking the time. It ran for one second. It continued to run for two. It wouldn’t stop in three. Bakugou stood back from the door, centring himself before he lifted his foot and slammed it against the door, knocking the lock out of place and forcing the door open. Uraraka yelped, but she wasn’t budging from the shower. Bakugou tore the shower curtain aside and Uraraka shrieked.

“Get out!” she yelled, covering herself as much as she could, soap suds running over her figure.

“You first, asshole! I need a shower more than you!”

“You do, but I got here first,” she replied sharply.

“Fuck off, I’m having my shower!”

“I’ll float you to the fucking ceiling!” she swore as she turned away from Bakugou. He switched the shower off as she pointed to the bundle of clothes by the sink.

“I’m getting my shower, round face! Get out!” he said, throwing her clothes at her. He never really cared about nudity, but it felt wrong to keep looking at her as she dressed, even if she was wasting his fucking time. Instead, he glanced up at the ceiling, waiting for her to hurry the fuck up. When she had covered basically anything that resembled indecency, he finally looked at her again, noticing the way she still tried to hide herself.

“Hey!” she shouted, trying to put the rest of her bra on. Bakugou took her by the waist, shoving her aside to get the door closed. Even busted, he could jam it “Asshole!”

“Guys!” Kirishima said urgently. “Shit! Bakugou! I see movement,” Kirishima said and Bakugou urged the door open in one brutal motion. When he was out, he saw Uraraka trying to put her shirt on, trying to get her pants ready to pull on.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Hell yeah!” Kirishima turning the screen around showing the shady dealings. Uraraka groaned stepping into her pants, struggling to get them on over her soaking body.

“Move,” Bakugou said, collecting some of Uraraka’s things with him. Kirishima alerted the main office and they were already on their way. They ran down the stairs, Uraraka jumping down steps as she tried to push herself into her jeans.

By the time they made it outside, Uraraka had managed to get her thighs into her pants but was still fumbling to put on her boots that Bakugou - admittedly - threw at her as she continued down the street.

When they were in the alley, Uraraka started to fiddle with her jeans, urging them together at her waist but groaned as they refused to stay.

“Hurry up!” Bakugou spat, trying to tug her forward

“I would if I wasn’t soaking fucking wet,” Uraraka cursed at him.

“Whose fault is that?” he smirked, watching as Uraraka struggled to button up the top of her jeans. She punched his ribs as she passed him. He rubbed at the pain before they all started to set up for their raid.

They stayed either side of the entrance, waiting for more back up and possibly checking if this was fucking faulty info that the asshole Kugizaki gave them. Bakugou was leading, adjusting his wrist guards that he managed to put on in the mess that was Uraraka. Kirishima followed with Uraraka behind him, the two nodding to Bakugou to give them a sign if it was time to charge in. Listening close, he heard chattered.

“Trigger needs to be shipped out today. Where the hell have you guys been?” Bakugou raised his hand, waiting for a reply.

“We were looking for Kugizaki, but the bastard has gone off and done his thing again,” another grunted back, and Bakugou had the pair flank him, watching as the edge of the alleyway had police cars sealing of the exit points.

The three barrelled their way through the entrance, causing the men inside to freeze. Bakugou was already letting off the sparks in his hand, eager for a fight to start - he was definitely wound up.

“Eraser Agency! Freeze!” Kirishima shouted.

“We will use force, assholes!” Bakugou warned, but the group around started to disperse.

“Go,” Uraraka shouted. He didn’t need to be told twice.

Bakugou put his palms down to the floor, a blast coming from his hands as he flew into the air, and another blast had him propelled back to the ground, tackling down two guys. They fell hard on the ground, wind knocked from them and Bakugou was quick to restrain them. Kirishima was charging through, disarming and restraining as many as he could.

Uraraka surprised him, as she faced three men all on her own. Well - one man. His quirk must have been a multiplication quirk, three of himself all trying to surround her. He realised as he was cuffing the two that he had cuffs for Uraraka in his pockets that he didn’t hand over. Shit. Instead of her possibly panicking over being at a disadvantage, she moved quick, dashing towards one. He looked prepared to grapple with her until she activated her quirk, pulling herself into the air.

Dropping the quirk as quickly as she activated it, she was at his back, bracing for the impact on her knees. Finding the balance she needed in no time, she kicked him square in the back, forcing him to the floor.

With a hard enough knock, the guy’s body - supposed to be falling to the ground - fell apart into smoke. Uraraka smiled as she went for the next, the guy completely off guard as she came at him, then slipping down to the ground to knock him straight off his feet. When he too fell to dust, Uraraka wasted no time in turning on her heels. She grunted hard as she threw herself into running.

The guy, realising he couldn’t out maneuver her on his own already trying to get away, but Uraraka was quick this time. She was like an angry lioness - finding her prey and going for the kill, no matter what. When she was the right distance, she threw herself into him, getting him to the ground quickly and taking his arms behind his back.

Uraraka spat her wet hair from her face, flicking it over her shoulder as she restrained him, knee digging into the guy’s back as she kept him pinned. She looked up at Bakugou, eyes narrow and focused. She gestured to Bakugou, hand demanding him to give her something.

And for some reason, it took him way longer to get to the point. She pointed to the cuffs he had ready for her. Why the fuck wasn’t he giving them to her? Fuck. Dammit, right. He handed them over, the weight of them so much heavier compared to when he held them before he saw her.

“I’ve got this, ” She spoke quickly as she went back to her suspect.

Bakugou swallowed hard, nodding along as he guided his two men away.

But over all of it, Bakugou felt the heat rise in his face, the unmistakable way his ears were burning as he looked at Uraraka. Because he thought...she looked hot.

Yeah, she was hot when she was wet and naked and it threw him off but at least that made sense.

Naked?

Wet?

Soapy?

Of course that’s hot!

What shouldn’t be hot is her shirt sticking to her chest and back and under her arms from the combination of sweat and soapy water, as she slam tackled the suspect.

What shouldn’t be hot is the way she spat the wet hair out of her face when she looked up at him, demanding the cuffs that suddenly felt slack in his hands.

Almost like a punch to the gut, Bakugou had the startling moment of realisation that those things weren’t hot. He found them hot, because he actually, maybe - just maybe - might have been attracted to fucking round face.

Fuck.

#kacchako #kacchako fic #bakugou x uraraka #uraraka x bakugou #my fics #the stakeout

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