#testing his jaw strength and how sharp his teeth were and all the qualities

[skullzy20]

I wanted an excuse to draw teeth

[bratkook]

test drive. (m) pjm.

pairing. biker!jimin x reader , deep six!au genre. smut, pwp word count. 1.8k warnings. dirty talk, unprotected sex, spanking, they almost get caught by other club members note. requested by @imjustfanfictrash​ for thirst night, thank u!! i had to make this deep six related just a tiny bit lol

“Feels soft right?” Jimin chuckles behind you, playful smirk on his lips when he sees the way your fingers grip the leather seat of his new bike. “It’s high quality leather.”

You know he’s just teasing, knowing you don’t actually give a damn about the quality of leather, but you don’t have it in you to bite back with some quick response. Instead your face comes to rest on the same material, cool against your cheek as you moan out a slur that sounds like his name. 

When Jimin had called you over to the club’s shop, voice full of excitement as he gushed over his latest purchase, you hadn’t been expecting this to be the outcome. You were completely blindsided, too focused on the twinkle in his eye as he circled the bike and pointed at each of the features, too entranced with the way his stacked rings would glimmer in the bright lighting above. He knew exactly what he was doing, letting his fingers trail along the bike, trying to come off as innocent when he stood directly behind you, resting his hands along your hips as he slowly whispered into your ear. 

“Let’s take it for a test drive,” he had suggested, voice sounding way too seductive for you to believe he actually meant it. No, he had absolutely no intention of driving this thing out of here with you sitting behind him, that much was obvious as he slyly began kissing your neck. 

You were weak for him, all it took was a few strategically placed kisses and the right words murmured into your ear for you to agree instantly. Turning into a puddle as he slipped a hand underneath the hem of your dress, allowing him to tease you until you were begging for him to do what he wanted. 

“W-what if someone walks in?” you mumble, eyes focused on the door of the shop as he slowly pushes the head of his cock into you. He feels the way your pussy tightens at the thought of being caught, gripping the first inch of his cock so tight he has to pause to catch his breath. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he teases, ringed fingers coming up to push your hair over your shoulder, allowing him to see the side of your face as he pushed further into you. The warmth of your core has him groaning, teeth biting down on his plump lower lip, eyes dropping down to stare at the way you suck him in. 

Your light blue panties are pulled to the side to make room for his cock, the hem of your matching dress hiked up around your hips and he chuckles to himself when he notices the stark contrast between both of your outfits. Where you wore all pastels and dresses, he wore all black and leather. It was a constant reminder of how different you were, yet somehow Jimin managed to rope you in with his charm, allowing you to see past the rings and leather, past the red tombstone patch adorning his arms and back, seeing him for who he was: a man with so much love in his heart that just so happened to be directed towards you.

“No, don’t—fuck—“ you cry as he bottoms out, “don’t want anyone else to see me like this. Just you.”

He hums at that, letting his hands slide down your body until he was softly gripping your ass, thumb rubbing along the skin. “Don’t worry baby, I locked the door. You’re mine.”

His words make you relax, a shuddering breath filling the air as you adjust to his thick size, the familiar ache that came with taking him slowly subsiding. “Show me,” you mewl. “Show me I’m yours.”

There's a small beat of silence before he’s cursing under his breath, licking his lips over in thought, giving you a brief moment before he starts to rock into you. Slowly at first, inching back before thrusting forward, starting a smooth rhythm until you were begging for more. 

“My dirty girl,” he rasps, jaw slack from the pleasure, seeing the way you soak his cock in your arousal, thick strings connecting the two of you each time he pulls back. “Letting me fuck you in the shop like this.”

A small moan slips past your lips, fingers digging into the cushioned seat as you try to find purchase, the smooth body of the bike not giving you much to grab on to. You give up quickly after, allowing yourself to be rocked against the bike, hoping the stand it was on would hold against the force of Jimin’s thrusts. 

“Ah fuck,” you whimper, eyes screwing shut as he hits the bundle of nerves inside of you with precision, having grown too familiar with your body over the past few months. “Feels good—so good.”

Your mindless babbling has him smiling to himself, leaning over your body and cooing when he spots the way your mouth is dropped open, cheek still squished against the seat. “Yeah? Love my cock so much you wanna drool on the seats, huh?”

A small hum in confirmation is all you give him, succumbing to the pleasure, feeling each small jolt coursing through you as your skin slaps together. The leather of his jacket warms your back from his position over you, zipper of it ticking your waist when he stands back up properly. 

He could feel how wet you are, how it gushes out of you, coats the inside of your thighs and makes a mess of your skin. It has him speeding up his hips, snapping forward so quickly your breathing stutters, a gasp cutting through the air as he delivers a sharp slap to your ass, the rings smarting your skin, delicious heat spreading as you moan out. 

“Again,” you beg, arching your back and jutting your hips back into his, wanting to feel the slight pain that set your body alight. 

“I told you, you’re filthy.” He does exactly what you ask though, spanking you until your ass was sore and you were left slurring against his bike. Your mind felt light and airy, focused on each gasp he lets out, the groans of your name making your climax sneak up on you. 

You always liked it quick and messy, loved when he would sneak you away because he just couldn’t wait to sink into you, loved when you could feel the sweat coating your skin, especially loved when you could hear how fast he was fucking you. The wet squelches fill the air in the dirtiest way, mixing in with the low hum of music playing in the speaker a few feet away, blending in perfectly with the way you cry over his cock. 

“Aw baby, did I fuck you stupid?” his tone makes you shiver, stomach tenses as your chest hiccups when you gasp, only able to nod in a daze because yes, he had fucked you well and truly stupid. He always did, left you crying over it, too lost in the pleasure to do anything else but that. “You wanna cum for me, make my cock messy?”

“Yes, fuck Jimin, please.” you whimper, teeth biting down onto your lower lip so hard you could almost taste blood. The cool metal of his rings makes you shiver as he slides his hand around your body, fingers coming into contact with your clit, wasting no time circling the swollen nub. 

“Wanna feel you, wanna feel my dirty girl cum.” his voice drops as he speaks, thick with want and you wish you could see his face. You don’t have the strength to look back though, resting more of your weight onto his bike as the feeling consumes you, each flick of his fingers making you tremble, your hips bucking against his in search of your release. 

Jimin smirks when your walls tighten around him, making it harder for him to keep up his pace, having his own orgasm quickly approaching. A choked gasp comes from you, morphing into a desperate, drawn out moan of his name when he finally pushes you over the edge. Your mind blanks for a moment, a flash of light displayed against your lids as the euphoric feeling consumes you, your ears ring so loud you barely hear the words Jimin says as he coaxes you through it. 

“Fuck, just like that baby,” he groans, raking a hand through his orange hair, in awe with the way you quiver, weak thighs barely holding yourself up as you cream his cock. He’s fast to grab onto your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he quickens his pace, the aftershocks of your orgasm milking his own. 

“Gonna make you messier,” he adds on, so quietly, speaking to himself as he focuses on where you two connect. The way his cock shines in the light, your sensitive pussy pulsing around him, mixing in with the gentle cries of his name, it pushes him over too. With a handful of messy thrusts he’s spilling into you, curses filling the air as he feels the tingles crawling up his spine. 

You mewl against his bike at the warm feeling, whimper as he continues to fuck you in short, shallow thrusts before he’s pushing in as deeply as he could. The cool metal of his belt is felt against your ass, more warmth falling over you as he wraps his arms around your weak body, tucking his chin beside your neck with a gentle kiss to your skin. 

“Did you really lock the door?” you quietly ask, not minding the stickiness coating your skin. 

“Uhm, no,” he whispers with a grimace, cackling when you instantly stand up and push him off of you. His soft cock slips out of you as you adjust your panties and smooth out your dress, glaring at him when he motions towards your hair too. “Relax, no one comes to the shop this late anyways.”

Before you can even speak, the bells jingle a few feet away, a smirk on your face when Jimin’s eyes go wide and he turns around to cover his exposed self. Luckily it’s members of the club and not a person looking to get their bike fixed, matching patches on their own jackets, and when they spot your flustered expression and the way Jimin not so subtly adjusts himself in his jeans, they waste no time hounding him. 

They’re all laughs as they call him a dog, Hoseok and Jungkook shoving his shoulder in passing before politely greeting you and scurrying off to the back room to grab whatever it is they came here for. 

“No one comes here this late huh?” you repeat, brow raised and a playful expression on your face. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he pleads, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in to kiss your face, a smile on his lips because he knows you’re not actually upset. 

“Take me for an actual test drive and you’re forgiven.” Your hands reach into his back pocket to pull out the keys, twirling them around your finger with a sly smile. “I’m driving though.”

He doesn’t even fight it, agreeing without a thought, because as much as he liked to pretend he was this hardass, you knew he would do anything you asked him to.

[blackenedwhite97]

Trials ( An Erasermic x Reader Medieval AU Ch.17-18)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

 https://blackenedwhite97.tumblr.com/post/643722830321696769/trials-an-erasermic-x-reader-medieval-au

CHAPTER 17

White hot light seared into your eyes, sharp pain running from temple to temple. Your throat was raw, your skin felt waterlogged and frozen, and your back was screaming under strain. You were on your knees, arms outstretched to your sides and bound to a horizontal beam balanced on a post where your shoulders were mounted. You blinked hard, the midday sun glaring directly at you, and looked around. You were facing the open valley, the singed farmhouse far off to your left and one of the vacant homes closer to your right. You were quite strung up in the middle of the road at the entrance to the village, muddy slush up to your mid thighs. You tried to examine your binds pulling against them to test the strength of the rope and quality of the knot. When nothing happened but friction burns biting into your skin you realized you were going to have to cut yourself free.

You couldn't see behind you and with the piercing headache from oxygen deprivation, you couldn't focus on listening very well. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loudly that the white noise of nature and any movement behind you was completely drowned out. You closed your eyes to help your focus, picturing one of the serrated knives you stole days ago. Just as the handle began to form in your hand and hand clamped down on your wrist and it blinked away, not by your doing. Your eyes sprung open and looming above you was a tall man with a grizzled face and dangerous eyes.

He wore a half suit of armour, a long lavish quilted tunic falling past his breast plate to protect his legs. He smiled a nasty sort of smile that if had been standing your knees would have gone weak. He looked cruel. There was a small part of you, behind all the fear that was suddenly rushing forward and taking over, that wondered if this was Kozan. He struck you with the kind of fear the idea of Kozan had, afterall. You ushered that thought from your mind, any older man in House Noro heraldry could be Kozan. You couldn't let yourself succumb to that fear just yet.

"Little trick of my own." He gruffed. His voice was harsh like his throat had been torn up by a wild beast and ever full healed, his words wounded painful. " Similar to one of your men's abilities, although he was blessed with more range than I."

He lifted his hand off of your wrist, the dull purple glow of conjuration flaring up against. Then he placed his hand on your neck and pushed your head up so you were looking at him, you felt the conjuration fading away. You realized he was talking about Shouta and your teeth instantly began to grind, anger seeping through your fear.

"That bastard could have been so fucking helpful in the war." he growled. "Could have done what's right."

Anger roared up inside your chest, like wild flames began to warm and consume you. You clenched your fists tightly and narrowed your eyes. The right thing. Shouta had done the right thing.

"Son of a whore." you hissed. "You murdered innocent people."

"So," The man dropped his head and laughed as if you'd just told a silly joke, it was genuinely entertained. He looked back up at you, a glint of something unnerving in his eyes. "he's told you about me? Hm, you must be important to him, he was cold and mule and deaf mule when I knew him."

You begin to shake under his grip, his lip twitches and you realize he thinks that you're shivering in fear. You're positively livid now, this man had to be Kozan. You're clenching your teeth so hard that you can hear your teeth scraping down on eachother, your knuckles turning white from how hard you're clenching your fists. Your arm twitched, instinctively attempting to throw a punch, but the binds stopped you.

He seems not to notice, or rather elects not to.

"Exterminated. I'm an exterminator of vermin and all beings against nature. It's while God gave me the gift he did." he drums his fingers against your throat. "Murder would imply that the things I exterminate are human."

You grimace at his words. He was sick, deranged.

"That boy you killed- you murdered- was a real piece of shit if I'm totally honest. However, he was a piece of shit born into a long line of hunters of practitioners of the dark arts and-" He ran his thumb over the hollow of your neck absentmindedly, lost in his preachings.

"I know who you are." you spat angrily. "I know who he was."

His hand clamps down on your throat, the other reaching up and pulling your head back by your hair. Your eyes, already swimming with dark spots, blur. You can feel the vein in your forehead bulging and your whole body shaking for air and you think, just for a moment, that this is finally it. And you wished it wasn't so painful.

But then his hand lets go of your throat and you heave it a deep breath, choking and sputtering through a bruised airway. You take the brief moment his hand is away from you to try and conjure a blade but nothing forms as he tugs harder on your hair. You growl in frustration and pain, the contact with your hair must be enough.

"Now, generally speaking, I enjoy a good old hack and slash job." he spoke casually, as if he wasn't violently manhandling you. " And when I got the letter about you it felt like it was below my pay grade, after all you were weak enough to get captured by the local law. So, I Sent a handful of my boys up north to make sure you were dead on execution dayinstead of going myself, but our mutual friend and his fucking mutt had other plans."

You flinched at the mention of Hizashi. It was enough that he hurt Shouta, it was enough that he knew Shouta was involved with you at all, but knowing that hizashi was also on his radar struck fear into you. He cocked his head to the side like an animal hearing something for the first time, his cruel grin growing manic.

"I have it on good authority there is a handsomely sized search effort for you from the ant hill you insects swarm to." He declared, his hand in your hair tugging you along as he emoted. " So now, as retribution for the inconvenience you've caused me for the last six months, I'm taking the liberty to use you as my bait."

You growled. It was a frustrated growl, an angry growl and a sad mournful noise all in one. You had been so sure that you were the only one who would get hurt in this plan. You hadn't thought Toshinori would allow anyone else out of the fortress after you. You had been so sure you'd somehow brought this upon the people of Kaer Yuuie by refusing to die when you were supposed to, by being careless enough to leave the necklace behind, by needing saving in the first place, that you had been fighting some kind of wrong in the week. But now, you'd fed into this monster and his plan and now you were even greater of an endangerment to the people of Kaer Yuuie. Despite yourself you started to cry, humiliated and tears ran down your face.

Kozan grinned at you, a wild unhinged fondness sparking in his eyes. "That's a sight"

Despite his vicious hold on your hair his other hand was gentle as it stroked your cheek, following the trail of tears. You looked away, down at the muddy road and tried to stop crying.His sick enjoyment of your pain making your stomach churn.

"I do need a few things from you before this is all over." He said casually, looking at his wet fingertips. 'For started, where's the fortress."

You laughed at his bluntness.

"Eat shit." you spat.

He raised his free hand in a fist, bringing it down hard across your face. Your head snapped to the side, pulling against the grip he still has on your hair. White sparks flicker across your vision, but you blink them away quickly. Unphased, he moves on.

"Toshinori Yagi, is he there." He asked, calmly.

"Eat shit." you muttered again.

Again he brings his hand down and again your vision sparks white but this time you're sure he broke skin. He shoves your head back into the beam you're bound to and holds it there, the bruised flesh of your scalp crushing into the wood painfully. You winced but kept your reaction to a minimum simply taking a deep breath against the pain. You wanted to cry, you wanted so badly to scream but he would love that and you wanted nothing less than to do him any favors.

"Abilities," He started. "lay them out for me. Who'd out there in the woods, hm?"

"Eat." you spit. "Shit."

Again he brings his hands down, this time you lip bursts. The inside of your mouth fills with blood and you can feel a warm stream trickling down your chin. Both the inside and teh out were busted in just that one hit. Your jaw throbs in time with black spots that filled your vision, pulsing until they became smaller and smaller.

"That loud mutt," you instantly spit blood at him earning a shove against the beam. "what can he do? Logistics."

"Eat-" you didn't get to finish. This time it was several punches, his poised interrogator exterior cracking. Your bleeding heavily now, the dark spots won't go away and one of your eyes down fully open.

Now, you think to yourself, this is it. This is far more painful. You shudder, the only way your head is still being held up with Kozan's fist balled in your hair. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck and let go of your head, letting it fall painfully forward. The small preservationist part of you screams for you to conjure something quickly but your mind is swimming and you can't focus on a clear object.

"Let's start again." he growled, clearly no longer entertained but frustrated now. "Where is the fortress?"

You can't muster any words, you just sloppily spit as much blood towards him through your swollen lips as you can. He rears up for a punch, this time he's not holding onto you so he can use his full force and you brace yourself for unconsciousness. A smaller figure entered your blurred vision just as the punch was about to be thrown and Kozan dropped his fist with a disappointed sigh. You couldn't hear much of what was being said through the blood rushing in your ears but was somewhat relieved when Kozan turned away from you.

"Regretfully," he said in a low voice, more clearly than he's managed to sound all day "I have to cut out time today short. Your friends are causing trouble."

You watched as he walked away, his figure becoming less and less the image of a man but a shrinking blurred smudge and your eyes darken. The sun,still high in the sky, beat down on you. For the second time in your life you were left, bound to rot away under the sun for all to see. You started to cry, miserably and weakly.

CHAPTER 18

You start awake at the feeling of something touching your face, impulsively pulling away. You whimper at the sudden movement, every part of you hurt.

"Hey," a soft, sweet familiar voice like honey whispered. " It's me, it's us."

Your right eye refused to open anymore, and your left was bleary and tear filled. You looked forward, praying to see the face you knew that voice belonged to. When you saw those bright emerald eyes and heavenly flaxen hair your heart sputtered in your chest. You let out a sob, forgetting for a moment how close he was to danger, all you could feel was relief. Behind him you spotted a pale face surrounded in dark curls that faded into the night, tears falling from dark tortured eyes.

Seeing him, his tears and his fear suddenly breathed clarity into you.

"Run." you whimpered.

"No." Hizashi declared, an unusual severity in his voice. "Sho. Bindings."

Shouta blinked hard and rushed towards you, his hand gently found your cheek as Hizashi slipped sideways and pulled out a knife. For a brief second, you could see the valley before you before Shouta filled your vision and it was chaos. There was fire and lightning and flashes of bright orange. Every time the world lit up for a half second you caught sight of clashing blades and blood-soaked armor. A howl shattered the sky around you, an accompanying chorus of screams followed.

"Look at me." Shouta whispered, pulling your face towards him. He was shaking, he was scared. You wanted so badly to reach out to him and to hold him, you take him away from here.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, more to himself than you. He's surprised when you muster an answer.

"K-Kozan." you muttered against his hands. "Run."

Shouta's breath caught in his throat and he froze, rigid as a wooden doll. Even Hizashi pauses for a moment before carelessly tearing through the bindings, knicking your knuckle in the process. You're in too much pain to really notice and he's obviously too upset to either. An arrow whizzes past you and Shouta dangerously close to his head and he's suddenly brought back to reality. He curses and steps forward, catching you as you slump forwards as Hizashi cuts the bindings around your shoulders.

"I'm going to fucking kill him, Sho." Hizashi spat, slashing at the last set of bindings.

"Zash, I know but we have to stay calm." Shouta breathed, clutching you close to his chest. "We're in and out tonight, it's about Y/n tonight."

Hizashi kicked the beam you were stung up on, shaking in fury. He was so angry hot tears streamed down his face, and he threw his knife hard into the distance with a fowl growl. "Next time- fucking dead."

"Okay," Shouta appeased him, shifting your weight around so he could scoop you up. He was looking away from you, purposefully up at the sky or Hizashi. "For now we go."

You forced yourself to look up at Shouta, you needed to keep an eye on him. This was your fault he was here, near them again. Near Kozan. You gripped his tunic weakly and let out a sob, without looking at you he tightened his hold on you

"I-I- sorry-" you choked out. "s-sor-ry."

"Stop." he eventually muttered as he stood with a grunt. "It's not your fault."

"I-I brought him he-" You sobbed.

"Stop." Shouta said again, his voice cracking. "He would have found us eventually. Stop it."

You want to wrap your arms around him, you want to thank him, you want to be lying in bed between the both of them happily peering through the window at the stars. You felt so broken, so weak and tired and you wanted so badly to just rest. Real rest, not tucked away between two rocks for an hour of shallow sleep nor passed out in a snow covered field. Shouta began to move, turning towards the tree line.

Hizashi shouted, the ground shaking for a moment, and then you were blindsided. You hit the ground hard, air rushing from your lungs, the stone filled muddy snow biting into your skin. You gasp for air still reeling for the sheer force you were launched sideways with. You struggle to your knees and look up, adrenaline flooding your system. Everything still hurt, every movement srang tears in your eyes, but you need to find Hizashi and Shouta.

Before you see Shouta, face down in the snow. He's barely moving, his head lifted mere centimeters from the ground, dark red dripping from his forehead. Beyond him, a large horse clattered to a stop in the snow, one of the hoove impressions red with blood. Atop the horse is a rider, struggling to control the horse. The horse gave one good buck and threw the rider forward, clamoring away once it was free of him.

You scramble to the side, out of the horses' path needlessly and a volley of arrows pierced its side. It stumbled and sways and eventually hit the ground hard, falling hard on top of Shouta's legs. He hissed and reached out, trying to find anything to use as leverage to free himself. You start forward on uneasy legs, no sure of what you'll be able to do when you eventually get to him.

Shouta grasps in pain and the horse's body lurches, a dark figure appearing over top of the horse blade draw. In the fiery chaos of the valley you see Kozan as he was always meant to be, a mad man driven by war and chaos. You could see the bloodlust coursing through him as she stood, blade raised and simmering in the flames of war.

"Aizawa!" He bellowed triumphantly.

Shouta began to struggle wildly, he was calm and collected in the face of anything you'd ever seen thrown at him but this broke your heart. You hated this man, you hated him more than anything.you hated what he did to Shouta, what he did to all those people he killed and what he did to you and your life. If there was anyone who deserved hell, it was him. Suddenly the world shifted again, this time it was shattering around you and a high pitched ringing flooded your ears.

Kozan stumbled backwards off of the horse, his eyes wide and dazed. He howled in pain, gripping the sides of his head and he fell. You realized that it must have been Hizashi and took this opportunity to crawl to Shouta's side.

"Run!" Hizashi shouted at a normal volume, rushin forwards to pry Shouta out from under the horse. The two of you pulled him free and you and he collapsed into each other. Together you scrambled towards the trees, neither of your bodies able to carry your weights very well. Hizashi stayed ten paces behind, shouting deadly waves of sound backwards. Shouta's leg caved in with a sickening snap and he pushed you away from him as he slid down into the snow so as not to take you down with him. You slipped and laid but scrambled backwards to him just in time to hear a terrible silence. Hizashi had stopped screaming.

You looked up as you slid into the snow next to Shouta to find Kozan, blade drawn and ripping with blood. He was no more than ten paces behind Shouta, Hizashi falling backwards away from him, clutching his upper chest and neck. Your blood ran cold as blood oozed between Hizashi's fingertips. Kozan swayed on the spot, blood dripping from his ears, the veins in his neck pooled with blood.

With strength you shouldn't have had you dashed forward. You barely had enough time to each Kozan before he brought his blade down again. You crashed into him with all of your weight, if he hadn't been hit directly with Hizahi's sound waves you're sure he could have just shoved you off. You clamoured to the ground with him, his breastplate hitting you hard in the head flooding it with momentary white. Then he was on top of you, straddling your chest, hands wrapped firmly around your throat. The bright white lights from the impact of his breastplate fade down into growing black spots. It was so quick this time, your body and lungs already so tired and weak.

You closed your eyes and focused on the crushing grip around your throat, your hands flying up impulsively to grip his. You wrapped your fingers around this thick gloves...gloves. Hope, flared up in you. Hope in the form of rage.

It was in that growing darkness and burgeoning fury that a spark of brilliant purple came to you, just like it had six months ago in the walls of your home. It was in the form of a great, jagged and cruel. It came with lightning and thunder and the promise of revenge. You let go of Kozan's gloved hands and let your arms fall to your sides as a sharp thunder clasp rocked the earth around you. A loud whistle rang through the valley and suddenly everything was lit up from a single point directly above you. Like a ball of purple flame a great sword plummeted down from the heavens air rushing violently around it. As it got closer the valley got brighter, and for the first time you could see fear in Kozan's eyes. His hands let go of your throat and he looked upwards in awe and fear at the wrath he had brought upon himself. As he looked up, mouth open and scream just about to escape, he met it through the balde met it. From top to bottom Kozan was skewered by the long twisted bade, his blood bubbling out of his mouth and down his body like a waterfall.

It was a sharp pain, being stabbed by the end of the blade. It was shallow but the end of the blade was warped and as Kozan's body slumped to the side the tip of the blade tore through your skin leaving a deep gash between your breasts. You gasped as he fell off of you the great blade blinking from existence as your connection with consciousness faded.

With it the valley was shrouded in what felt like darkness compared to the beacon that was the great blade. You melted into the snow, your body was at its limit and you couldn't bring yourself to even turn your head and look for Shouta or Hizashi.

You stared up into the inky dark sky, silver stars dotting it in an arrangement of bears and bows and great warriors and lonely lovers. Then you saw a flower, glowing like starlight, or perhaps it was still a star blurring with tears. They began to fall, warming your cheeks. You wanted to be back home, looking up at the glowing moonlight flowers, Hizashi stroking your hair and Shouta resting his chin against your chest.

"Hey," it was jagged and pained but still sweet like honey, "where'd you go?"

You smiled tiredly. "Hot spring."

"Finally," Hizashi shifted your head so you were propped up on his lap, his hand running soothingly through your hair. "somewhere warm."

You only vaguely registered Shouta hobbling towards you, as your eyes drooped shut. His warm gruff voice shook as he told you he loved you and you smiled to yourself. You were home, they were home. How lucky you were, you thought to yourself as the world slipped past you, that you got to be with them until the day you died.

[emmett-the-wrighter]

Screamers

“Write a post-apocalyptic story that features zombies.“

No one knew why the screamers screamed.

On a good day, when the wind blew in the right direction, you could hear them a mile off. That was when it was time to move, or else they’d come for you with their eyes dripping blood and throats gone raw. Whatever terror they saw, you’d have to be careful not to catch it too and if you looked into the eyes of a screamer, you were lost.

People had theories and rumors, of course, but no one really knew was it was like. Something just snapped and you started screaming like the rest of them until you were lucky enough that someone could put you out of your misery.

This time, there were three of them. I was up high, with eyes fixed on a point just to the left of the group. Even this far, you never knew if one of them might make eye contact.

“I don’t want to waste bullets,” Twig said from behind me. I cocked my head towards his voice but didn’t take my eyes off, well, my peripheral eye, off the screamers. “Scissor maneuver?”

I shook my head. “I can take care of them if you keep watch.”

He grunted and reached forward to rest a gloved hand on my shoulder. “Careful.”

With a nod, I stood and finally turned to look to my partner. Or rather, look down to my partner. Short and wiry, he was as comfortable scrambling across the bridges and towers of the outpost as I was to be firmly on the ground. For once, he had put some sort of order to his thinning mess of blonde hair, but the grooming attempt had ended there. Dirt, dried blood, and other filth deepened the lines of his sunbeaten face.

I frowned. He looked more strained than usual. Being out here for so long had started to take its toll, but I doubted he’d ever admit to it. Just like I wouldn’t admit to how shit I probably looked. We were both used to it after all this time together.

Twig was quick to notice my scrutiny. His voice whipped out in a defensive, “What?”

I forced a chuckle and plastered a disarming smile across my face. “Just admiring the view.”

He snorted and waved a hand at me. “Save those charms for the next generation.” With a final scoff, my partner moved around me and took up my seat on the edge of the tower. I chuckled again, more genuine, and clumped my way towards the lift.

Even at his age, twice that of my own, Twig was able to scamper up the ladder or crossbeams of the tower like a monkey. I was not so fortunate. Even with my strength, the armor strapped to me firmly suggested against testing my luck with heights. With ropes and pulleys, I could heave myself up or down on the lift platform. That was enough of a risk for me.

I didn’t care about the creak of my armor or heavy tread of my steps. If the screamers hadn’t seen me already, they wouldn’t be able to hear me over their own shrieks. I wasn’t the silent type like Twig. I was a juggernaut, a bowling ball, and the screamers were little more than pins to be knocked down.

They did see me.

One broke from the trio, those aggressive types that just streak for you like a wildcat. I hefted the hammer and turned my right side towards the runner while lifting my left arm to prepare for the blow. The poor thing wouldn’t even notice it coming.

Crack!

The hammer caught it right in the ribs. Years ago, I would have winced at the impact, but I had been young and naïve back then The screamer wasn’t down yet. It lurched back, all the while its raucous cries battering at my earplugs. I still didn’t look at it. They weren’t safe until they were dead, and even then some Silencers were superstitious and thought you had to wait three days before daring to meet their eyes.

As soon as I struck one, the others perked up like dogs on a hunt. They broke into a frantic galloping run. The one I had struck wasn’t attacking yet. It could think, could plan and it knew I was dangerous.

I hated those ones.

The other two were on me and I struck one right in the face. It fell back and lay still. The other grasped and clawed at me, trying to get through my armor. I raised my eyes upward, keeping them in my peripheries. That was the hardest part, sometimes.

My hammer swung again, pulverizing the skull of the one already downed. I thrust out with my arm to try and detach the screamer clawing at me. The first one was still biding its time. That was more troubling.

I let a roar burst from my throat as I whirled and flung the annoying one off of me. My hammer was quick to follow in a rapid strike to its throat, cutting off its voice.

That was when the other finally struck.

I grunted as it slammed into me. It wasn’t as big as me; few people could match my bulk. But it still sent me staggering for a precious heartbeat and I whirled to send my hammer into its side. The black metal head whooshed harmlessly through the air and I turned further to see the shape dart further around me.

Something sharp dug into my leg and I gasped, nearly looking down, but yanking my gaze away at the last second. The damned thing on the ground had bit me through some chink in my armor to gnaw my leg to bits.

I grit my teeth and kicked at it once to break its grip before sending my hammer into its skull.

Another slam from behind, and I tripped forward over the body, just catching myself with the hammer into the dirt. Twig was probably laughing at me from up there. Sledge, the juggernaut, being walloped by a single screamer? He was sure to tell the other Silencers about that over drinks, the old bastard.

I led with the hammer, whirling to clip the thing across the jaw. It fell backwards, and its screams took on a higher-pitched wheezing quality. It wouldn’t be long before its bleeding black eyes went vacant and it’d just be another job well done.

Tugged by an urge, my eyes flitted across its face the moment it lay still. Everyone wanted to at least once, even those old veterans who scoffed at such a thing and could fight wearing a blindfold if they needed to. Like Twig.

Another hammer blow put the matter to rest.

I stopped, panting. Sticky sweat collected under my armor, and I squirmed internally to know that it’d be moist and cold before long. That was the downside of being “the juggernaut”.

“That looked easy,” Twig mocked with a wide grin when I pulled myself back up to the top room of the tower. “Fall asleep halfway through?”

I rolled my eyes.

He laughed. “You can relax soon. Convoy’s on the horizon.”

I found a chair and let myself fall onto it with a clank and thud as my armor rattled. “Thank gods for that.” Lifting a hand up, I rubbed at my eyes. I couldn’t get the look on the screamer’s face out of my mind.

We had already packed up our gear from the place that morning, and doffing my armor, I started loading the lift to take it all down. When the convoy arrived, two trucks and a couple riders, we only lingered long enough for a few pleasantries with the Silencers replacing us before we were on our welcome way home.

“You gonna get that looked at?” Twig said when we had crested the hill before the Town. He gestured at the oozing bite in my leg. I looked down. The wound was shallow enough that I had completely forgotten about it among the other aches, pains, and constant itches.

“Are you crazy?” I flashed Twig a grin and raised the stump of my right pinky to him. “And give Doc more excuses to cut bits off me?”

“Good.” My partner leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms slowly. “You thought about the future at all?”

I lowered my hand as he spoke. “What about it?”

The truck jolted over the stretch of potholes, and Twig waited for the jostling and crunch of wheels on gravel before he spoke again

“Well,” he finally said. “I’m getting old, Sledge.”

I waited for him to say more, and when he did not, I reached out to clap him on the shoulder. “Not so old, old man. You still Silence with the best of ‘em.”

He twitched a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You gotta find a different partner someday, kiddo. I mean to retire before something makes me retire for good.”

There it was.

I raised a shoulder and lowered it in a shrug. Then added a noncommittal grunt for good measure. “Not everyone works with a partner. Not everyone can keep up with me.”

“What about Wire?”

“I don’t like knives.”

“Bucket.”

“He’s a dumbass.”

“Twitch? Pix? Clinker?”

“Too unpredictable, too addicted, and I just don’t like her face.”

Twig snorted.

“None of them are you,” I added, quieter.

He turned fully to look at me, his sunken eyes soft on my face. He licked his dry lips once, chewing on his answer before tossing it out. “And no one will be. But they don’t gotta be.”

I twisted my lips to something between a smile and grimace. “Maybe I don’t mind-“

Something dark flickered in the edge of my vision. My head whipped around to follow it, but it was gone even before I had realized I reacted.

“What is it?”

I shook my head gingerly. “Just a bird or something. I’m on edge.”

“It’ll be good to get some rest.” He raised a hand in greeting as we neared the thick wall surrounding the Town. Militia patrolled the wall, clad in their armor with guns in hand. A few shouted pleasantries, but it didn’t much matter what exactly they said. I was too antsy to notice.

The trucks rolled through the gate and came to a halt in a lot just beyond. I stood and stretched my still-protesting muscles before vaulting out of the truckbed and landing with a jolt on the ground. Finally home.

“Welcome back,” someone called, and I looked up to see Sergeant striding towards us. His thin-lipped smile was infectious, and even if it wasn’t, the pouches of coin he carried were enough to make both me and Twig grin in return.

“Week’s pay,” Sergeant said, tossing over the pouches, Twig’s first. “Any bonus this time?”

I jerked a thumb at the truck. “You have to ask? Three today, plus nine from the rest of the week.”

Sergeant whistled through his teeth. “Well-earned. Want it now or on your tab?”

“Tab,” Twig said as I chimed in with, “Now.”

He nodded to us both before producing a handful of  coins and offering them out to me. I stepped forward and reached for them- but hesitated. Something flickered in Sergeant’s gaze as we stared uncomfortably at each other, and for a moment I wondered how much he really wanted to keep this money from me.

Enough to pull for his gun?

I blinked the thoughts away and closed my fist around the coins.

“I’ll record your tab with the Arches, Twig,” Sergeant said as if that little standoff hadn’t even happened. Had it? “See you both around.”

Back in our cabin, I dumped my packs onto the floor and then dumped my worn-out carcass onto my bed. The blankets were scratchy but they welcomed me back with an embrace worthy of a lover and pulled me down into a hazy half-sleep. Being able to close my eyes without a care was the sweetest damn feeling I had ever known.

Finally home.

Something dug its claws into my throat and I lurched for my hammer, thrashing about with a pained cry. When I opened my eyes, all I could see were black sunken holes in a drawn face, shadows oozing out between void and flesh.

“Hey- Sledge! Hey, it’s me.” Twig’s voice broke through the fog and I blinked to see just his eyes wide with concern and his hand touching my shoulder. “Just- lower the hammer, alright?”

I swallowed dryly and let it fall down onto the bed next to me.

“You fell asleep,” he said.

“Right,” I said weakly. My voice was a pathetic rasp so I wet my lips and tried again. “Right. Thanks.”

“The Arches? We could use a drink.”

“Gods, please.” I heaved myself up and made for the door.

Twig secured our usual booth and settled like a king before a tray of drinks. I stopped dead. His face stretched grotesquely, his mouth in a Cheshire grin with sharp teeth and jutting cheekbones. On the arm on his chair, gnarled talons of his fingers dug into the soft plush.

A blink later, he looked normal again.

I really did need that drink.

He said something, ending it with a laugh, but I hardly heard it. My gaze was drawn by something out the window, a movement disappearing around the corner. Had someone been watching us?

“Yeah,” I said vaguely, replying to a question I hadn’t heard. A twitch squirmed in my eye, and I blinked it away. Whatever Twig said, I only nodded along, keeping my gaze fixed out the window.

“-decided yet?” Twig asked me and I snapped back to realize he was quiet, awaiting my answer.

“Uh, no.”

He nodded in understanding. “Well, there’s no rush yet. I won’t be going anywhere for some time.”

That deserved a smile, so I forced something tight and thin-lipped. “You better not.”

“You don’t look okay,” Twig said, and I was startled by the grotesque dark note in his voice. I looked up to see his brow furrowed, his lips twisted in disgust and his eyes beady and glinting. His fingers were gripping the arm of his chair again- no, one was at his side, toying with the garrote coiled at his belt.

I stood, knocking my chair back. It crashed to the ground, chasing off the shadow lurking in my friend’s eyes, leaving someone who just looked old and a little concerned.

“I need some air,” I said sharply.

Movement to the side. My head jerked around as I tried to follow it. Nothing. Just someone reaching for their money. Or was it their knife. A gun?

“Alright, alright,” Twig said soothingly. The tone of his voice sent a coil of anger rippling through me. He stood, and I realized he meant to come with me.

I licked my lips and shook my head with a snap of my voice. “Alone.”

The hammer at my side was a comfort as I stumbled away from the table and pushed out through the door.

The cool air was a sparse reprieve, settling the flushed warmth of my cheeks. I started walking, keeping from the shadows. They reached for me and I spit at them, scaring them back.

They wouldn’t get me.

One flickered by, and I whirled, panting. It was gone. Good. It had better run. “You better run,” I said for good measure. Another shadow reached for me and I crunched my boot down firmly on it, feeling no resistance but the ground.

Why did I always end up alone? That thought built its way up into a cry in my throat that I tried to choke back down. My hands were shaking. I could feel the tremors wracking at my arms. Twig would be gone forever and I’d be-

I was alone.

A shadow entered my field of vision and I jerked back, hand flying to my hammer before looking up. Twig stood before me, arms crossed and his jaw set in a frown. He wasn’t alone. I heard more footsteps approach, then stop, but my attention was all on Twig.

“Just stay right there,” my partner said. I could feel the other Silencers around us, standing in alleys and paths. Blocking any exit. Any escape.

My voice shook as badly as my hands. “Twig, wh-what’s going on?” Something wet dripped down my cheek and I cursed myself, lifting my hand to wipe at the tear. Silencers didn’t cry. I never cried. So why now-

My hand came away red in the moonlight, and I stared at my hand. I looked up to Twig again, seeing something terrible in his expression, though he didn’t meet my eyes. I swallowed, forcing my voice to steady.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I said. My voice lowered. “I’m not… I’m not one of them, Twig. I swear it. I never-“

He shook his head slow and sad, but said nothing.

“Twig. Please.”

His hand lifted and I stared down the barrel of the gun he pointed at me.

“Twig.”

“Just- don’t, Sledge,” he said. He had difficulty getting the words out, and I saw something glimmer in his eyes. “Don’t make this harder than it’s gotta be.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that, and I took my eyes off him for just one moment.

One moment was long enough.

The smile dropped from my mouth as quickly as if someone had slapped it away. That wasn’t Twig anymore in front of me. The empty shadowed sockets leered at me from over his twisted grinning mouth. His flesh writhed and twitched, flaying away in dangling strips. They closed in around me, leering with empty eye sockets and a void where there should have been a soul.

And in that moment, I realized what none of them ever could.

I screamed.

This was adapted for Reedsy Contest #60. Anyone interested in the original is welcome to contact me. https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/contests/60/submissions/35813/

[forgedobsidian]

Aphelion

A MHA fanfiction. Chapter 6.

Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3    Chapter 4    Chapter 5

AO3

Summary:

Izuku has been kidnapped by All For One, for reasons the young boy doesn’t understand. He is forced to stay at a rundown facility, surrounded by villains and, for all he knows, completely without help. In-between his attempts to escape or learn why he has been stolen, the young boy spends his time with a near-comatose man who seems strangely familiar.

Trigger Warnings for: kidnapping, body horror, medical torture, needles, and pain

Murata whistled as he strutted down the hallway, one hand in the pocket of his labcoat. A thin vial was cool and smooth against his fingertips, the ridged cap on a clean needle clicking against the glass. He quietly keyed into a large room, his steps eager as he stepped through the doorway.

Yagi was lying on the floor of the empty space, the ports in his skin catching the bare overhead lights. His breath was ragged and caught in his chest, and his limbs twitched as cold air moved over his exposed skin. The lack of the usual tubes and IV lines only served to accent his weak frame. The burn on his back was bared to the air, the twists and gnarls of his skin an irritated pink.

“Ah, the testing room. Been a while since we’ve seen this place, huh.” Murata chuckled as he closed the door behind him and crouched down next to Yagi’’s head. “Wonder what’ll happen this time around. Sensei and I have been working on this for a while, so hopefully it goes well.”

It took the older man a moment to focus on Murata, but once he did he bared his teeth. His hands lifted off the ground, the fingers curling. Murata watched in fascination, smiling when Yagi’s thin arms just fell back to the ground.

“You seem tired, big fella,” Murata said, turning his head to the side. “So just lay there and rest, yeah? This’ll be quick.”

Yagi wheezed. “Fuck off.”

“Oh, hush now. No need to curse.” Murata pulled out the syringe and twisted on the clean needle. It didn’t take him long to fill it with the off-green fluid from the small vial.

Yagi wiggled away when Murata bent down to give him the dose. His arms and legs were unbound, but it was still difficult for him to move for long. Still, he managed to avoid getting pricked. Sweat beaded his face and he was gasping for air, but there was a flicker of determination in his eyes.

“Hold still. You know how this goes.” Murata moved closer. Yagi lashed out, the outer edge of his hand stiff as he tried to knock the syringe from Murata’s hand.

“That’s more fight than I’ve seen in a while! You must be feeling better than I thought.” Murata hummed, stood up, and aimed a quick kick at his patient's stomach. He grinned with it connected with a hollow thump.

Yagi stiffened, blood leaking from between his clenched teeth, and his eyes rolled in his head. Murata nodded in satisfaction and bent down again, holding out the needle.

“Boss has a bit of a sadistic streak, apparently. We could just flood the streets with this stuff, let them test it out on the run, but he wanted you to be the test subject for the first couple of rounds.”

Yagi, despite the obvious pain in his body, tried to thrash around. His shoulders pushed off the ground, and he tried to get traction on the floor with his twisted hands.

“Now, now, no fuss.” Murata gently slid the needle into one of the ports on Yagi’s arm, careful of the jerking movements the man was making. “The last thing we need is a needle breaking off under your skin. Besides, it’s either you or the boy.”

And that got Yagi to stop thrashing. His voice was tired and strained when he asked, “The boy?”

“Yup, little Izuku. Normally I’d be against putting a young body through such rigors, but you know my motto: the work must go on!” Murata depressed the syringe and quickly withdrew the needle, capping it and slipping it into his pocket. “Now, you just wait a moment, and we’ll really get started!”

He left the room, making sure to turn the lock behind him. He walked to the right, going into the door immediately at his side.

One-way reinforced glass made up almost an entire wall, and Murata could clearly see Yagi in the next room over. Ito was standing close to the glass, her arms crossed as she turned to glare at him. “Took you long enough.”

Murata shrugged. “You can’t rush some things. Besides, the drug is quick acting.” He stood next to Ito, his hands in his pockets.

It didn’t take long. Yagi’s flesh rippled, and his arms spasmed against the floor. Murata leaned forward in excitement.

Even through the thick glass, Murata could hear the crack of reshaping bone. Yagi’s jaw hung loose, thick muscle pushing it’s way up his neck. Sharp teeth sprung from his exposed gums, and his skin took on a greenish tinge. His right arm started hardening and cracking, his hide becoming visibly tougher. The discoloration started to crawl up his neck, the reptilian appearance deepening even as Ito and Murata watched. Yagi was screaming and thrashing, streaks of blood marring the floor of the testing room.

The effects didn’t fade in the slightest, even though they were quarantined to the right portion of Yagi’s body.

“Well, now that’s interesting,” Murata whispered, picking at the skin on the back of his hand.

“What?”

“It might be the plus-alpha system of his quirk, which emphasises physical strength, that’s allowing such dramatic changes without killing him.” Murata leaned against the glass, his forehead hitting it with a dull thunk. “The goal is to make a temporary quirk, but for some reason this particular test is nearly producing something whole. It should have just been the strength and scales that popped up, not the coloration or the teeth. We know that quirkless DNA splices and other samples accept the qualities we want, but this isn’t reacting like it should.”

For some reason, the plus-alpha system here must be used to change and is just charging ahead. Murata shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, twisting his lips in thought. But that doesn’t make any sense. There are quirks that change with time, but this one is so rapid that it can’t be a result of age. But, then why would Sensei have such a time getting a quirk from him? It’s never been a problem for him before, and a quirk that’s so accepting of change . . .

He grinned. “Oh, this is such a wonderful mystery! I love my job.”

“Why isn’t is spreading to the rest of him? That’s what I promised our dealers.”

“Small dose, my dear. Small dose. We don’t want to go full-body until we work out some kinks.”

Yagi had stopped twitching on the floor, simply lying there and panting. Froth mixed with the blood trickling from his mouth, and the muscle rippling along his shoulder was visibly stretched to the snapping point. His right hand flexed, and Murata could see dark claws starting to bud in his subject’s fingertips. Yagi dug his fist into the ground, and the tiles cracked.

“The strength is there, which is important.”

Ito nodded. “That’s what we want.”

Yagi was slowly flexing his changed hand, staring at it with wide eyes. Then a chilling smile grew across his face.

Ito’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he doing?”

The man haltingly got to his feet, his weakened legs struggling to support his scant weight. His transformed arm seemed to hang low, dragging his shoulder down.

They both jumped when he threw himself into a wall, the concrete splintering and falling to the floor around Yagi’s bare feet.

“That wall won’t hold,” Ito said, her hand going to a thigh holster and the small handgun it held.

“Nah, nah, don’t worry. Eventually the lack of this in his system will slow him down,” Murata said, waving around another small vial. The unassuming clear liquid it held sloshed around the container.

“What is it?” Ito asked, an annoyed look on her face.

“Some morphine, nutrients, addictive compounds, other things. Without it he’ll collapse, and all sorts of nasty stuff will start to happen.” Murata twirled the vial with a grin. “One of my best concoctions, if I do say so. I have another mix, but with adrenaline instead of narcotics.”

“I’m impressed,” Ito said, raising her brow. “You act like an idiot, but I guess you can deliver.”

“You know it!” Murata’s smile twisted. “It’s quite the little project, balancing this around with all the other stuff he’s getting. Makes for good practice.”

They both went quiet when Yagi turned in a circle. There was a shudder in their room when Yagi threw himself at the locked door, his swollen shoulder connecting with the metal. Powder trickled down from the ceiling, and the door groaned as it started to warp.

“Though, on second thought,” Murata said, “if he manages to get out he might cause a lot of trouble for us before he goes down.” Though it is interesting to see how much coherent thought he retains.

Ito froze when Yagi stilled, the subject reaching up to rub at his shoulder.  Then, with a hesitant grin, he dug his bare heels into the floor and body slammed the door. The hinges gave way, twisted beyond their capacity, and Yagi jumped out into the hallway.

“Oh, shit!” Ito scrambled past Murata, her left hand going for the door knob while the other went to her gun. Murata was right on her heels, fingers searching his pocket for the loaded syringe he always carried with him.

The hallway was a mess. The door had crashed into the wall, leaving dents in the sturdy concrete and lying twisted on the floor. Yagi was steadily making his way away from the testing room, his uneven shoulders and weak body keeping him from running.

Ito raised her gun and fired off several shots. Yagi dived for the floor and the shots went wide, and Murata winced when he heard the scrape of scale against tile.

“Don’t shoot him! We need him!” he yelled at Ito, feeling his face flush.

“If he makes his way into the main hold or finds an exit, it won’t matter if he’s dead!” Ito shot back, holding her firearm steady.

Yagi was back up on his feet, glaring at them. Blood dribbled from his mouth, the transformed side of his face not matching the leanness of his other half. His reptilian teeth gleamed in the bright lighting.

“Okay, now, we’re just gonna take this slow,” Murata said, raising his hands up and taking a slow step towards his patient. “No need for you to hurt yourself.”

Yagi snarled. “I’d hardly want to do your job for you.”

“See, logic.” Murata took another step.

Yagi shook his head and his stance wavered. “W-what’s . . .”

Murata dashed forward, hand darting into his lab coat and uncapping the full syringe. When he was in range he tried to jab the needle into Yagi’s upper arm, but a clawed hand stopped him.

Yagi was quivering where he stood, the temp quirk beginning to fade from his system. The discoloration was disappearing from his face and down his neck, and the artificial muscle was beginning to shrink. The teeth were beginning to wither.

Murata tried to push the needle under Yagi’s thinning skin. Yagi used his fading strength and threw him into a wall, the syringe flying from Murata’s hand. He looked at Ito, who had lowered her gun, and started running down the hallway towards her, his hands fisted and a feral snarl pulling at his face.

She hesitated to lift her weapon, and it nearly cost her.

When Yagi was only a few steps away, moving as quickly as he could with his fists held at the ready, he came to a jarring halt. He seemed shocked, and his hands fell limply at his sides. There was a wet crunch, and something threw him to the side.

Ito saw Sensei standing just behind where Yagi had been, and then she understood. A barbed spike extended from under his suit sleeve, resting along the back of his hand, the tip coated in blood and gore. There was a matching puncture on the left side of Yagi’s back.

“When I tell you to run a test, Murata, I expect it to be controlled.” He sounded annoyed.

“Sorry, boss. He just . . . well, he didn’t react like the DNA splicing tests we did. It caught us by surprise.” Murata was slowly picking himself up off the floor, wincing at the strain in his back.

“Apparently.” Sensei was cleaning the tip of the spike with a clean handkerchief, seemingly unbothered by the red the spike left behind.

Yagi was twitching and wheezing where he had landed, curled up at the seam between the wall and floor. The blood from the stab wound was eeking down his bare back, catching on his exposed spine. The oily purple of a tranquilizing agent clung to the edges of the injury.

Sensei kicked the quivering man over onto his back, and Murata winced at the click of the ports on the cold cement. Hope I don’t have to replace those.

Bloodied froth eeked it’s way down Yagi’s cheek, and it was obvious that he was struggling to stay conscious.

“Murata.”

“Coming.” The doctor retrieved the syringe from where it had been knocked out of his hand, briefly checking the needle to make sure it hadn’t bent. He whistled as he walked over, and grinned when he slid the needle into Yagi’s arm and depressed the syringe.

The man went limp almost immediately, his eyes rolling back and blood trickling from his mouth.

Sensei watched as Murata checked the ports for damage, his hands held behind his back. His voice was nonchalant. “Running out of usefulness, indeed.”

Inko opened her door, steeling herself for the coming interaction.

Hisashi was waiting on the other side, his curly brown hair burshed away from his face and a suitcase resting by his feet. He seemed embarrassed, giving a little wave as he said “Hello, Inko. Long time no see.”

She simply nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. She opened the door all the way and stepped aside, giving Hisashi room to come into her apartment.

She ignored his outstretched arms, and he pulled away with an abashed look to his face.

Inko turned and walked into her empty apartment, hearing Hisashi toe off his shoes and carry his bags through the entryway, closing and locking the door behind him.

“So, uh, the place hasn’t changed much, has it?” Inko could tell he was trying to lighten the situation.

“No, not really, I guess.” She turned and shot him a tired smile. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to sleep on the couch. The bed I use is too small for two people.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah. That’s fine.” Hisashi placed his bag on the ground. “So, um, how’ve you been holding up?”

Inko sighed. “I’m managing.”

“Good. That’s good.” Hisashi looked uncomfortable, hesitant almost. “And is there any news about Izuku?”

“The officer in charge called me yesterday, saying that they had found a new lead.” She walked into the kitchen. “I’ll make some tea. You should sit down.”

Hisashi pulled out a chair at the table, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he settled into the seat.

The kitchen was quiet as Inko started heating the water and finding a mild flavor for them to drink. The clink of teacups was almost jarring in the silence, and she saw Hisashi jump more than once out of the corner of her eye.

“Um. What exactly happened, then?” Hisashi’s voice wavered.

Inko sighed sniffed, running her hand under her eyes. “He left school and disappeared. I called the police after I couldn’t get a hold of him and it had already been more than enough time for him to get home, even without using public transportation.”

“Okay. That’s good. You did good.”

“I should have called them sooner.” Guilt slammed down on Inko’s chest, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, hey.” Hisashi’s voice was comforting. “You did the right thing. You had no way of knowing what happened, and made the right call with the information you had at the time. This isn’t your fault.”

Inko sighed, and didn’t answer. Soon enough the tea was done, and she sat down across the table from her husband, gently handing over his cup. “I’ve been trying to call and fill you in, but you never seemed to answer or have much time to talk. Why?”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Hisashi whispered, curling his fingers around the cup. “Just . . . things were busy, you know. I would have loved to be here.”

You should have been here, even long before any of this happened, Inko thought. She stared at her tea, watching small ripples dance across it’s surface. “He’s been missing for weeks, Hisashi.”

“I know.”

She swallowed hard, resisting the sudden urge to stand up and storm out of her own apartment.

“I needed you here.”

Hisashi looked down at the table, sadness swimming in his eyes. “I’m . . . sorry, Inko.” He sighed and changed the subject. “What do we do now?”

“I’ve been walking around, asking people if they’ve seen Izuku. I’ll hang up a poster here and there, too, where I think people will see them.”

“And the police?”

“They’re still searching. Detective Tsukauchi has been very helpful and supportive.”

“You said they found a lead?”

“Yes.” Inko nodded, slowly turning the cup in her hands. “They’re doing what they can, and keep me updated every step of the way.”

Hisashi nodded and fiddled with the handle of his mug. The air between them was quiet, an undercurrent of tension making him hesitant to talk. Eventually, though, he lifted his head and looked at his wife.

“I’m sorry to ask this, but do we even know if Izuku is still . . .”

Inko stiffened, looking across the table with a hurt gaze. “Still what, Hisashi?”

“Do we know if he’s still alive? I mean, his chances, after this long, can’t be, um . . .”

Inko steeled her face. “What are you saying, exactly?”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Listen, we’re both adults, we know how these things go. It might not be worth it to look any more, despite what the police say. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes there’s just nothing that we can do.”

“So you’re just giving up?”

Hisashi leaned back in his seat, noticing the way Inko’s tone had gone icy.

She settled herself in her chair. “I’ll say this. Tsukauchi’s belief that Izuku is alive is founded on evidence. And you might not know our son, Hisashi,” Inko said, her voice wavering and strong, “but I do, and I know he won’t give up, no matter the obstacles in his way.”

He looked down at his hands, not liking the way he could feel guilt eating away at his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Inko said, standing and brushing off the table. “You know where to sleep. You know where the bathroom is, and the kitchen. I’m going to bed.”

“Inko. I really am sorry.”

She didn’t answer, and if she closed the bedroom door with more force than necessary, Hisashi didn’t comment on it.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, leaning forward to rest his head on the table. “Dammit.” He felt tears gather in his eyes, and didn’t try to stop them as they tracked their way down his cheeks.

When Toshinori woke up he was back in his chair. Everything ached, and he could feel his jaw grind against itself when he tried to open his mouth. His side hurt, and his throat felt scratchy.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Toshinori stiffly moved his head to the side, and found Midoriya sitting in his usual chair. His vision was hazy, but he could still see the relief in the boy’s eyes. He tried to smile, wincing when his skin stretched. His face felt raw and irritated.

“How’re you feeling?”

Toshinori sighed. “Been better.” He winced when his jaw popped and a flare of pain traveled along his spine.

“At least you’re awake now. Murata said he could leave me here this time, as long as he remembered to lock the door.” The boy sighed and kicked his feet back and forth. “He did. I heard the bolt twist. I wanted to stay, though, and see if you were okay.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you again, young Midoriya.” Toshinori felt relief flood his chest. The boy is unharmed. He’s okay.

“How’s your back?”

Toshinori shifted, his eyes narrowing when he felt the pinch of stitches. “I think the burn is healing, but . . .”

I got stabbed.

“But what?”

Toshinori turned his head, giving a ghost of a smile. “I’m just not as healthy as I used to be, is all.” He sighed and shifted in his chair, stretching out his feet. “How are you doing, young man?”

“Oh, fine, I guess.” Midoriya frowned. “Is it always so chilly here?”

“It’s usually a little cold, yes.”

Midoriya sighed and leaned his head back. “Okay. I was hoping it would warm up a little.”

Toshinori felt a smile tug at the edges of his mouth. “Me too, young Midoriya. How is your arm?”

“Better. Not as sore. I think I’m getting used to it, actually.” The boy flexed his arm and tried to give an encouraging smile.

For a moment they were quiet, and Toshinori let his eyes slip closed. He could feel the haze of sleeping drugs pulling at the edges of his consciousness, but he wanted to stay aware as long as he could before falling back asleep. He opened his eyes again when he heard Midoriya give a stressed sigh.

“What is it?”

The boy sniffed, and tension in his shoulder drooped. “I thought you fell back asleep.”

Toshinori shook his head, glad he’d managed to stay aware, for Midoriya’s sake. “Oh, not yet. I have some questions, and something of a request, actually.”

The boy canted his head to the side, curiosity replacing the relief on his face. “Okay.”

“This might be a bit of a large request, but I don’t think I can do it on my own. Feel free to refuse.”

“What is it?” Midoriya seemed eager to help, sitting forward on the edge of his chair.

Toshinori sighed, hating how weak he had become. “I want to stand on my own for a while, maybe take a few steps. Could you help me?” Just to do something not out of necessity, or someone else forcing me. That’s all, and I’ll be happy.

Understanding bloomed on the boy’s face. “Of course!” Midoriya jumped off his chair and walked to Toshinori’s side. “What can I do?”

“I just need you to be ready to support me. I’m . . . not as strong as I used to be, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay on my feet.”

“Okay.” Midoriya grinned, gently resting his hand on Toshinori’s arm. His skin prickled at the touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” Toshinori said, speaking around the sudden lump in his throat. Then he steeled himself, working against the weight of the tubes that hung from his spine and his right side. His feet were numb from the chill, and he wasn’t certain he had his balance before he lurched up from his seat.

He would have immediately fallen to the side if Midoriya hadn’t stepped forward, gently grabbing Toshinori’s thin elbow and acting as a prop for his lanky frame. Toshinori nodded in thanks, and the boy smiled.

It took some shuffling, but eventually Toshinori got his feet properly positioned under himself and stood upright. The tubes squeaked as they rubbed against each other, the only noise in the room other than the steady beep of the monitors.

“I didn’t realize you were this tall,” Midoriya said, carefully stepping closer.

Toshinori smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being on his feet. His spine was out of alignment, and his atrophied muscles strained under the exercise so quickly after Murata’s experiment, but the chance to stand under his own willpower was more than enough of a trade-off.

For the first time in years, Toshinori felt like laughing.

No rush, no drugs, no true need to move.

He felt Midoriya shift at his side and he looked down, his grip almost slipping. “Everything alright, young man?”

Midoriya looked up at him and grinned, tears at the corners of his eyes. “It’s nice to see you happy!”

Toshinori felt his eyes widen, and a full-toothed smile grew across his face. “Yes, I think I am.”

He only managed to stand for a few minutes, and when he slowly backed up and sat down his knees were shaking and his breath was labored.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked, concern in his green eyes.

Toshinori grinned. “Better than I’ve been in a while, I think.” He reached out and ruffled Midoriya’s hair. The boy scrunched up his face, but leaned into the touch. “Thank you for your help, young Midoriya.”

“No problem, Mr. Yagi.” Midoriya smiled and looked up at the man. “Any time.”

Toshinori nodded and dropped his hand, suddenly very tired. Still, the sedatives seemed to be biding their time, and he was feeling a little talkative.

He settled back in his chair, letting his head rest on his shoulder. Midoriya leaned on his armrest, cupping his chin in his folded hands.

Toshinori smiled and tapped the boy’s arm. “Well, young Midoriya, do you have anymore stories to tell me?”

Author’s Note: Is that . . . an actual plot?? HOT DANG HERE WE GO. I KNOW AT LEAST 60% OF WHERE THIS THING IS GONNA GO NOW.

Alright, but, seriously, for the first few chapters I had no idea where I was going with this fic. Shout out to those of you who read and reviewed while I was still finding my feet.

Thank you for reading!!