#Like despite Mind being a shadow with eyes and too many teeth I really can't get it right for some reason waughh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryptiql · 3 years

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

150 notes · View notes

mlpdestinyverse · 3 years

Text

“The Bigger One”

Heather Tart is used to many things, be it receiving praise, using her charm to sway a situation to her favor, or asserting her dominance as a respected student at Twilight's School of Friendship.

A punch to the face...is not one of those things.

Feat. Star Chime, Heather (Tart) Reed

Related Chapters: Tongue Twister, Honesty, Confrontation ~Destinyverse Archive~

Story and Description Under The Cut

Heather Tart had a plan. Of course she did. Her meticulous mind could think its brilliant way through anything. Especially when she had a goal so close to her she might just be able to touch it. As such, she used her natural charisma to discreetly excuse herself out of her afterschool clubroom that day. It was a little earlier than the typical time her Science Club ended. Not that it mattered. Not only did their activities finish early, but in their final moments of leisure time, only one topic buzzed relentlessly around the classroom. Princess Luna was here, visiting the School of Friendship. Under what pretense - and for how long - no one knew. Near the end of the day, the regal Alicorn had been spotted by a stray hall monitor. Striding beside Princess Twilight Sparkle, Luna had been touring the school grounds between class periods, quietly observing the students through door windows while they busied themselves with classwork. Yet she was nowhere to be seen once said periods had ended and the hallways bustled with hooves and claws alike. Elusive as ever, their mysterious Moon Princess. One could assume the Princess of the Night had discreetly taken her leave long ago; glorious gossip, however, said otherwise.

Heather's heart had nearly burst when she'd heard the news. Years of dreaming and the heavenly Alicorns were finally rewarding her. The teenaged Earth Pony resisted prancing through the empty halls in her excitement. Upon trotting out the front doors, Heather scanned the beautiful frontal schoolyard and its glistening pond that surrounded the entrance. The sky was still gray from its brief shower hours before, and with careful hooves, the filly made her way across the damp stones cutting through the pond and around the side of the school. With even more precaution, Heather made sure to avoid the mud in favor of patches of rain-touched grass. She hated nothing more than muddying her hooves. And if she was going to meet Princess Luna? She was going to do everything to ensure she'd look as elegant and pristine as ever. Step one: Make her way towards the back, where she knew the school's picnic tables were scattered about just for students during their lunch periods and downtime. Step two: Grab the nearest table towards the backdoors. Probability told her, almost without a shadow of a doubt, that this would be the very exit Princess Luna would use if her tendency to avoid crowds and not cause a fuss was anything to go by. It wasn't one hundred percent guaranteed, but the chances were high enough that Heather was willing to take it. It wouldn't be out of character for her, either. Heather loved sitting at a table on a sunny day to quietly work on homework. Sometimes, as president of her club, she'd even sit there to plan out new fun lab experiments for the Science Club's next meeting. Studious. Conscientious. Hard-working. She could never get enough of teachers and students alike noticing her and praising her efforts. As they should. The scenario in her mind played out the same way. She'll be sitting there, hunched over a notebook and mulling over new club activities, when Princess Luna and Twilight waltz their way out of those doors. They'll see her, Twilight will ask her what she's doing, and Heather would yet again demonstrate her leadership and intellect. Twilight will praise her, introduce her to Luna as one of her best students- And the youngest of the royal sisters will look upon her and remember her name. Heather could feel her heart racing and subconsciously her hooves picked up their pace. Meeting the other princesses, catching their attention, and standing out amongst the drabble...if she were to be honest, she didn't realize just how much she ached for it. Not until now. Not until it was so close- Heather turned the corner, honing in on the table she knew would be hers- Only to find another sitting there. And oh, at the sight of her, Heather felt her very blood boil. Of course she just had to be here. The dullest, most boring-looking Unicorn that had ever insulted Heather's eyes; dull white and cream coat, drab grayish-blue mane, pale and ugly blue irises as narrow as a snake's. And who could ever miss that long, rat-like tail with a tuff of mane at the end, just lying on the bench beside her. She wanted to laugh at this filly's attire too, trying to pass off as prim and proper with an outfit that only made her look like a senile office worker. Heather knew very well who this was. And she despised her very existence. But as a filly of her own standing at this school, she had appearances to keep up. So with the most saccharine smile she could muster, Heather took long, deliberate steps towards the other filly. It didn't take long for the Unicorn to notice her, those snake eyes flicking up from what had to be the most ostentatious book Heather had ever seen; silver and grey with metallic decor on its cover, embedded with one large tacky-looking gem just as blue-gray and washed out as the filly it belonged to. Heather stopped beside the table, avoiding a muddy patch beneath it, and held the Unicorn's gaze as much as those eyes repulsed her up close. "Hi there! You must be new around here!" Heather chirped. She gave the filly a chance to at least muster a reply. She should have expected the Unicorn to

cautiously eye her like a socially inept buffoon. After an awkward few seconds, she nodded. "I am," the filly managed. Good for her. "Well isn't that nice!" Heather lies through her teeth and a beaming smile. "Then I can't blame you for not knowing! Where you're sitting right now is my usual seat. But hey, now you know, so I'm sure you won't mind moving for me, hm~?" The Unicorn stared at her. Two seconds. Five seconds. Heather watched impatiently as the other filly swept her gaze across the other empty tables around them, almost pointedly. 'Yeah. You heard what I said. I'm not being subtle. Get lost.' Victory was in her grasp, of course. She wasn't the only one here that had pretenses to maintain and denying her civility would only make this filly look like the asshole of the two. And that wouldn't make the Unicorn much of a role model, now would it? Heather's innocent smile stretched expectantly, taking in the Unicorn's deadpan expression boring into her. Another annoying second later and the other filly finally shut her book tight, sliding it to one side without breaking eye contact. "No. I don't think I will." Heather's smile twitched. How she didn't take into account a lack of even the most basic social courtesies from this filly, she'll never know. "Well that's a little harsh," Heather feigned hurt, disguising the simmering fury just beneath her skin. "I just wanted my favorite seat for my studying. Is that really too much to ask for?" An unwavering, distrustful narrow of those eyes was the Unicorn's only response. So. That's how it was going to be. ...yet face-to-face with such blatant defiance, Heather - for the first time - was at a dead end. There was no sweet talking that face. And with no one around, there was no leverage here for her to turn the tables. Behind pursed lips her jaw clenched and her teeth grated. Pathetic. Pathetic. It infuriated her how rapidly the power had shifted - power taken from her in the one place Heather had worked for it. Power THIS outsider didn't deserve. It was then that Heather's eye honed in on a certain pretty little book, teetering near the edge of the table. Ah. Okay then. Heather could take a loss. She could take a small, minuscule hit to her pride. No one was there to see it. Her goal was still in reach, so long as she kept up pleasantries and proceeded with her plan at the next table over. Heather, however, wasn't above taking small, subtle, petty victories. Anything for the satisfaction of reminding others where she stood around here. "That's too bad...but I understand." Heather sighed and hung her head. "I won't bother you." She turned her body, then. Too quickly. Or just fast enough to make the harsh bump of her flank against the table's edge at least semi-believable. She listened for it... SQUISH A gross squelch cut the silence, a sound that was beautiful to her ears. As she had hoped, turning back around revealed the plummeted book, lying delightfully amongst the brown patch of muck below the table. Despite her gasp, Heather could barely stop herself from grinning at her success. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, and it was just as difficult to stifle a much-needed laugh, especially with how much this Unicorn's face had slackened at the sight beneath them; silvers and greys, now smeared with dark mud. The other filly took in the filthy book with dim eyes. Poor spoiled girl. "I'm so sorry! Let me-" Heather's hoof was inches away from picking up the book to present to the Unicorn - a grand power move in her head - when a sourceless light blinded her. The Earth Pony barely had time to react before something solid rammed straight into her face. All she could do was squeal and tumble back into the ground at the excruciating pain and the sheer force of the impact. There was a wet slippery slide of the earth below her, displaced by the collision of her body. She didn't even know she was holding her stinging face until she pulled back trembling hooves from it, furiously blinking her blurry vision back into focus. Her head throbbed, the blood rushing into it

pulsing loudly in her ears. While her world was reassembling itself, Heather felt the fabric of her torso become seized and in moments her entire body was being pulled up by a shocking amount of strength. The open-air was suddenly freezing against her pelt, forcing her delayed senses to fully experience the scorching hot pain spreading through her muzzle and cheeks. Her left eye especially struggled to stay open, even as another face shoved itself into hers. The filly before her breathed shallowly against her nose, wild and unhinged eyes resembling a beast now more than ever. "That," the Unicorn heaved out in a heavy, shaking breath. She renewed her grip on Heather's dress, expression distorted into a monstrous snarl. "Was father's you heartless wench!" Heather felt like a ragdoll, swaying on weak, dirtied hindlegs, one hoof pathetically draped over the vice-grip holding her in place. Her brain felt shaken, thoughts racing. And her blood ran cold when the other filly let out a quiet, humorless laugh at her. "Oh, I know your type..." the Unicorn whispered breathlessly, those venomous irises burning holes into her. "Thinking you're the biggest fish in the pond. Like you can lord over everyone else without consequence. You think no one can stand up against you." Heather choked on a sound as her face was pulled in further, a breath ghosting her muzzle even hotter than before. Her panicked magenta eyes darted up to the Unicorn's horn; what was already glowing a haunting silvery-blue now crackled violently with energy, stray white sparks searing into her exposed skin. A primitive growl ripped out of the other filly, and in those ferocious eyes, Heather swore she saw bloodlust. "How's it feel to meet a bigger fucking fish?" Heather screamed. It was something raw and primitive of her own, and she thrashed in the other filly's hold to no avail. She didn't know how long that went on for, wasn't sure how much time was passing as she waited for another strike- "STAR CHIME!" A booming, commanding voice filled the space, powerful enough to tremor the ground beneath them. Her ears only then registered a number of other voices rising in volume and proximity. The rigid muscles in her neck ached when she finally turned her head just enough to see out of the corner of her eye. So many heads were sticking out of classroom windows, no doubt stragglers from clubs that surely have ended by now. Amongst those faces, she could recognize a few teachers, and to the right... Princess Twilight and Princess Luna, with the backdoors thrown open around them. Her attacker jerked away, releasing Heather to let her fall onto her forelegs. As soon as she was released, a blur of movement rushed out from the creatures gathered behind the two Alicorns. "Heather!" The Earth Pony almost instinctively flinched away, but was immediately soothed by the familiar arms of her best friend, Amber Shine, cradling her form. It amazed her how the Pegasus filly was willingly angling her body to both support her weight and shield her if need be. Despite the protective walls surrounding her, Heather still had a clear view of the princesses. Twilight looked absolutely horrified. But clearly someone else here held the most oppressive presence and authority. Princess Luna looked upon the scene with a frigid death stare that would cut through anyone. And it was trained on one single filly. "What is this?!" Luna demanded, her deep voice rumbling the air like thunder. When she strode forward, not even Twilight dared to stay in step. She trailed behind the other princess with shock etched into her youthful features. The Unicorn shuffled, and Heather watched Star Chime's newly distressed visage come to life. Her long tail lashed behind her like an agitated cat. "She knocked father's tome into the muck, mother!" Star shouted, eyes darting wildly from Heather to Princess Luna. The Alicorn's expression actually faltered for a second before her sharp blue eyes landed on Heather. And Heather's heart jolted in terror. 'No...no! Don't you dare ruin this for

me!' "It was an accident!" Heather wailed back, letting every ounce of emotion pour into her voice. Near-instantly, Star Chime whipped towards her with a scowl. "You LIAR!" "ENOUGH!" Star Chime's head snapped up to look at her mother, as Princess Luna now stood a mere tail length before them, dark blue wings flaring out behind her. "That does not constitute violence against a defenseless subject, Star Chime!" And as the lunar princess seared those harsh eyes into her daughter, it dawned on Heather the advantage she had. The position she was in, with her face undoubtedly swollen and appearance soiled by the assault of that horrid young princess. She was more grudgeful now than fearful, though she couldn't deny the tears of pain and prior-fear-for-her-life that had left streaks in their wake. However, there was room to play it up further. So focusing on the pain and just how overwhelmed she felt? A hiccuping, sniveling mess she became. "Y-you didn't even let me pick it up for you!" Heather sobbed out, pressing her wet cheek into her friend's warm chest. The sweet Pegasus comfortingly stroked her hair. She could just imagine the pity on Amber's brow. "You just attacked me out of nowhere! E-even after I apologized!" Murmurs. Sweet murmurs of concern and disbelief sounded from the far-off onlookers. They knew her; thoughtful, honest Heather, who got along with everyone and had a spotless record. In the face of unnecessary violence, they literally had no reason to doubt her. Besides, how was she supposed to know that garish book was from the late King? Not even the Alicorns above could claim she was lying here. "Oh Heather..." Twilight murmured compassionately, and that alone filled her to the brim with glee. Checkmate. "M-mother, please, I just..." Star Chime begged uselessly. Oh, begging suited her. Too bad she had nothing to excuse her brutishness. She lost this battle ages ago. Heather knew, because Princess Luna could only exhale deeply, her countenance a storm of emotions that the filly was honestly clueless to identify. What Heather hadn't seen coming was the sudden shift in the Moon Princess' expression from there; from rigid and grave to sheer exhaustion and sadness. "I thought we were past this..." Luna whispered, so quietly that Heather had nearly missed it. The true proof that those words were even spoken was the way Star Chime recoiled as if she had been slapped. Heather jumped as feathers slid over her back, only to realize Princess Twilight had moved forward to reassert authority. After shooting her a gentle glance, she returned her attention to the other princesses. She hesitated before opening her mouth to speak- Luna beat her to it. "I have changed my mind, Twilight." Luna began, collecting herself just as quickly as the shift had happened. "Star Chime will not be attending your school after all." Heather would have whistled were this not an inopportune time. She simply sat back and enjoyed the unfolding drama as Star Chime looked at her mother with wide, shell-shocked eyes, frantically searching Luna's face for an answer already before her. "Mother," Star Chime's voice cracked, desperation seeping through. "No, please, let me prove myself-!" "There is nothing to prove." Luna quietly interjected. Her general demeanor was no longer of disappointment or even judgment, but somber patience of all things. "I realize now that you require more of my attention than what little I have given you...perhaps in the future you may return to Ponyville. But now is not your time." As if to make her point, Luna subtly swept her gaze across the onlookers, and Star Chime followed her line of sight. Heather had to agree, Princess Luna was practically showing her mercy. Imagine attending classes here after making a first impression like this. She'd be the talk of the halls. Every soul in Twilight's School would know of the violent princess who punched one of their top students square in the face (and Heather would absolutely make sure every ear knew of it). Little miss Star Chime was better off being pulled

out of this school before she even started. It'd give Heather less of a migraine and save her the humiliation. Just like... "Allow me to extend my deepest apologies in place of my daughter," Luna said towards Heather, whisking away every other thought in her mind. While she began to buzz in delight, that buzz slowly died down at the unreadable expression the Moon Princess wore. She was as formal and distant as ever. Almost...scrutinizing her? Where was her sympathy? "I will be holding a very thorough discussion with her over these events, and I intend to offer reparation to you and your kin." "Heather's parents aren't here in Ponyville," Twilight finally found an opening to speak, taking on the tone of a responsible princess. "But Applejack is her guardian, so I'll be contacting her soon to pick Heather up." "Very well. I will return shortly to speak to her, then, and recompense will be sent to the family." Heather perked up when the royal addressed her once more. "I understand that you are distressed. I will be escorting Star Chime away from here, and you will have time to recover with your friends. I hope you do not mind." Heather sniffled and swiped a hoof over her face. "I don't mind...thank you, princess." Luna's attention left her too quickly for Heather's liking, focusing on the Unicorn princess instead. "Come, Star." Luna called in a hushed voice, taking her exit with grace and purpose. Heather's focus shifted to Star Chime just as the Unicorn's horn lit aglow with that very same eerie silvery blue, levitating the grimy book out of the sludge. As parts of the wet mud slipped off in thick glops, the Unicorn gave the book's cover a weak swipe of her hoof, only managing to smudge muck further into its intricate crevices. While Luna departed with the elegance and power of true royalty, Star all but dragged her hooves after her, gaze downcast and mouth pressed into a firm line. Unsurprisingly, she shot one final scorching side glance at Heather Tart through her draping bangs. It lingered until Heather left her periphery and the Unicorn could only trail after her mother like a helpless foal.

Pressing her head further into her friend's chest, Heather sneered at the filly's retreating back until she rounded the corner and out of sight. 'That's what you get, rat princess.' "Heather, are you okay? What did she even do?!" Now that the immediate threat was gone, her colt friend Arctic Bolt was charging in from the small crowd, nearly slipping a few times in his scramble over. Oh great. Heather wasn't sure if she was in the mood for the buckball star's overdone jests and witty quips at this moment. Yet she couldn't reject the amount of attention and concern she was receiving. "Gods, I think she gave you a black eye." Amber Shine fretted. The filly helped Heather sit up, but the moment she even tried to brush a hoof near the Earth Pony's left socket, Heather flinched away and grunted. "Punched me." Heather forced out through gritted teeth once Arctic had slowed to a stop before them. "Fell to the ground..." "Geez, it's like your dress took as much of a beating as you did..." Arctic muttered. And as much as she wanted to roll her eyes at his dumb remark, looking down proved that the joke was more accurate than she'd realized. Red fabric was now stained with mud and grass and stretched out past its limits by the iron grip of that wretched beast. Or maybe it didn't look so bad! MAYBE that was just her, peering at it with one eye while she held shut the one that was throbbing and bruising over. Yeah. That remuneration better come fast- "Heather, I am so sorry." Twilight's voice promptly grabbed her attention. The Alicorn mare bent her legs to meet her height, looking to her with so much guilt that one would think the perpetrator had been one of her own family. "This shouldn't have happened. Star Chime has been working hard through some of her...habits, and while she's made progress she's also very emotional at heart and then after losing her father-" This was very new and very disconcerting, watching Princess Twilight Sparkle actually fumble through her words and appear rather flustered over the situation. Heather felt her jaw clench. The two had to be pretty close for Twilight to feel this compelled to defend the girl. "That said, harm should have never come to you, especially on my premises. I just...I hope you won't hold this against her. If circumstances were different, I really think you two would have gotten along." Oh. Heather could not stop her face from screwing up at that. Twilight noticed (Heather for once hoped she did, God forbid the Friendship Princess actually tried to forcibly mend this atrocity) and her shoulders noticeably drooped. "But I completely understand if this has damaged those chances."

Twilight took in a healthy breath of air and straightened back up. While she once again spoke with calm and control, the way her ears remained pinned back was hard to miss. "Please head in and wait outside my office whenever you're ready, Heather. I'll let the nurse know to prepare an ice pack for you before I get in contact with Applejack. This'll definitely take some time, so please bear with me." Ugh. Applejack. As if her voice wasn't already annoying to listen to on a daily basis. Now the older mare was going to fuss knowing her overprotective nature and Heather wasn't looking forward to having her ear talked off on how slices of raw potato and toothpaste were the grand answer to healing her face or whatever ridiculous ideas those country bumpkins had in their screwy heads. Moving out and away from the farm life couldn't come sooner. But there were bigger things to focus on in the present. It wasn't until Twilight had walked off, exchanging words with the last few students who were being herded away by the remaining school staff, that Amber Shine voiced a question that had been on Heather's own mind. "What did she mean by...'working through habits'?" The orange Pegasus uttered slowly, eyeing the backdoors as the final student filed in after the princess. "That was way more unsettling than it had to be." "Oh...oh Gods it's all connecting..." Both Heather and Amber turned to Arctic, who was now holding his head between his hooves in what appeared to be either alarm or a headache. Ever the dramatic one. Heather would have been tempted to snap at him for obnoxiously drawing the suspense out, but thankfully Amber was faster and more patient. "Uh, mind sharing?" The Pegasus cautiously prodded, now giving her friend a hesitant glance-over. Arctic's wide blue eyes flashed back into focus and he began wildly gesturing with his hooves- "Okay listen- I have this friend in Canterlot whose cousin went to Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns with this other guy, right-" "The friend of a friend's cousin." Amber repeated, and oh, Heather recognized that tone as the filly already being half-done with the conversation. Bless her. "Easy to follow. Carry on." "No, seriously listen!" Arctic hissed quietly, and for the first time since Heather had met the silver Earth Pony, he actually looked like he was being serious. "My friend told me this story about how apparently, Princess Star Chime got pulled out of school for completely thrashing that cousin's friend! Said there was blood and teeth everywhere and she beat the poor guy until he was begging on the floor!" Heather could feel her visible eye nearly bug out of its socket. "And they tried to let someone like THAT come HERE?!" she near shrieked. Her friends were lucky that she had already spent her vocal cords not too long ago. "It IS the School of Friendship. Guess they were hoping to make her less punchy." He muttered out one of his wisecracks. Heather's head was whirling too much for her to admonish it. How close had she just come to being battered into a stain on the grass? Wait...actually- "Okay, but why are we only just now hearing about this?" Amber, ever a kindred spirit, inquired the very same disbelief in her own mind. "The newspapers would have blown up over a royal scandal like that!" Heather agreed. And if she had possessed this knowledge just a little earlier, maybe she would have treaded just a bit more carefully. At the very least, she would have been able to figure out a way to use it to her advantage... "Well for one, it was like, two years ago... and apparently not a lot of ponies got to witness the attack. But-" Arctic leaned his head in, head whisking about in search of eavesdroppers before dropping his voice even lower. "It sounded like Celestia and Luna covered the whole thing up and made everyone involved agree to keep the information private. So most of the public has no idea what happened, but obviously whispers managed to slip through a few mouths in upper Canterlot..." "Wow..." Heather whispered. Yeah. That was probable. The princesses

had the power. And while Heather knew anyone else would have been a little frightened over the influence their rulers had, whether for the sake of a nation or for their own means...Heather herself was sort of amazed. As if she could actually blame them for going to such lengths to conceal the shame that girl would have brought to their exalted family otherwise. "But even before that!" Arctic swiftly continued. "Apparently the kids at the school were already dubbing her the 'Delinquent Princess' behind her back! My friend's cousin never knew why until...y'know." "Delinquent Princess." Amber repeated back. "What a...stupid name." 'And I think it's fitting...' Heather was tempted to add but miraculously toned her spite down. "...I mean Ithoughtitsoundedbadass- but only because I thought the whole story was just some elaborate rumor!!" Arctic threw up his hooves. "I didn't think someone from the royal family could be that crazy, yet here we are! So don't talk like it's nothing but made-up gossip after what just happened!"

"...you're not wrong." Amber muttered, and her wing pulled Heather closer into her side. The earth filly welcomed the warmth, though she didn't like the look of discomfort on her friend's face. "In other words, we're talking about violent habits. And from a princess of Equestria...that's awful." "Yep. She is. But let's stop talking about her for now" Heather muttered, feeling both sets of eyes fall on her. The more she heard, the more that resentment deep within her grew. And the more that grew, the more her temples ached beyond the limits of what she was willing to deal with. "I think I'd like that ice pack right about now." "Oh crap, right!" Arctic jumped, urgently motioning for the fillies to walk ahead while he kept the rear. "Got a little carried away. We'll stick around until Twilight gets back!" "Yeah. Twilight did say it'd take a while." With a comforting smile, Amber Shine squeezed Heather's shoulder with her wing feathers. "I say it a million times, but just as a reminder; we've got you, girl." And she appreciated the encouragement. She really did. But Heather found it incredibly hard to muster more than a ghost of a smile when she found her legs on autopilot while her mind was elsewhere. 'Stop talking about her" she'd said. Yet she couldn't even bring her own brain to shut up. When it came to the very thought of that Unicorn princess, ugly green thorns never stopped digging their way into her ribcage. But after today... Heather's inner snarl rang with unconcealed bitterness, louder than ever before. 'How? How does someone like her get to be a princess?'

_________________________________________

Officially introducing Star Chime! Daughter of Luna, sister of Prince Amadeus, and youngest royal of the five royal Equestrian children (Princess Flurry Heart, Princess Lumina, Prince Amadeus, Prince Nova Spark, and Princess Star Chime, in that order)! Though by youngest, she's probably a year or two younger than Nova Spark.

I'm excited that she's ready to officially be a part of the cast!! I've considered her and Dream Flow the future main protagonists of present-day story. One day she'll meet her partner in crime. One day...

Also, very fun to write a chapter exploring Heather's psyche! In no way am I advocating for violence against misbehaving kids, by the way. I know people will see this as Heather "getting what she deserves" - and wanting to see karma get her is valid - but just know the purpose of this chapter wasn't me trying to take pleasure in physically "punishing" this kid, back when she was a youth with very misguided values. Just wanted that to be clear!

#mlp #mlp art #mlp oc #My Liittle Pony #Heather Tart Reed #Star Chime #Princess Luna #Twilight Sparkle #destinyverse #story

82 notes · View notes

oikawasass · 4 years

Text

I’m in the mood for some really sad angst so take this.

final goodbyes.

‣ pairing : bakugo x fem reader.

‣ oneshot.

‣ synopsis : after a messy and unexpected fight during a training mission, katsuki finds himself forced to say one last goodbye.

‣ wordcount : 2.3k+

‣ warnings : pure angst, swearing, character death, minor gore.

It was supposed to be an easy mission on that cold winter day, one that was simply for training purposes so the students would be able to begin learning what to do in tough situations from experience, rather than a lecture. A quick sweep of a few thugs in the area assigned to the pair and approved by Aizawa himself.

The two were confident in the mission given to them, knowing that with their combined strengths It would be a breeze, taking them a few minutes tops. Neither Y/n nor Bakugo had expected things to take such a turn the way they did. The simple thugs they were sent to deal with had brought much more of a punch than either of them had expected. A simple battle with a couple of wannabe villain lowlifes, ( in Katsuki’s words, ) had turned into a 2 vs 16, one of those sixteen people being an extremely dangerous and wanted villain in the area who was called “Pressure.” Despite the rather incredible amount of power the teens had combined, the odds weren’t in their favour from the start.

They were outnumbered, and the sheer strength of not only one of the most wanted criminals in the city, but all of his goons backing him up, it was too much for Bakugo and his girlfriend to handle alone as much as they both hated to admit. The two heroes in training held their ground as best as they could, hoping to buy themselves enough time to call for help, or some sort of backup. Even Katsuki knew that their chances of making it out of there on their own weren’t very high at all.

It was when Pressure had set off an ear ringing, blinding explosion that things really took a turn for the worst. Y/n and Bakugo had been violently thrown away from each other due to the amount force the blast had administered. The last thing they saw before their vision went white, was the couple’s red and scarred hands desperately reaching out for each other. But they were too late. The villains had fleed before the explosion went off, leaving the couple to presumably die.

Bakugo’s eyes slowly blinked open, a light fog of dust and rubble from the debris of the explosion clouding his vision. His body tried so desperately to pull him back into the sweet lull of sleep as the pain of his injuries and aching body slowly spread throughout his limbs and joints, but the blonde refused to lose consciousness another time. His injuries were nothing severe or fatal, so there was no excuse for him to stay down any longer. How was he supposed to become number one if he allowed a simple blast to knock him down, after all?

With a sharp inhale and a loud groan, Katsuki pushed himself up off the shredded concrete and into a sitting position, allowing himself to come to his senses a bit more before he forced himself to his feet. The boy leaned back on one of his palms, catching his breath for a moment before a single thought overtook his mind, sending him into a panic.

“Y/n.” 

He shot up to his feet, not caring to try and balance himself before frantically running to all the large piles of rubble that littered the snow-covered ground around him. He was throwing metal scraps, large rocks, tree branches, anything and everything in his way while he searched for her.

“Y/N!! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!” Bakugo shouted, in hopes of hearing some kind of response from her in the distance. His heartbeat only grew quicker, hearing the fast pulsating ring through his ears as his panic grew. His determination and will to stay calm in situations like these were long out the window by now. All he cared about was finding his girlfriend.

“Y/N!!” Another heart-wrenching scream of her name left Bakugo’s dry throat. She had to be here somewhere, it's not like she just went and vanished into thin air.  

Bakugo rose his forearm to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the blinding light the setting sun was reflecting off the snow in hopes he would be able to see more clearly. That was when he spotted a shadowed human figure lying dead centre in all the rubble surrounding them, there she was.

He bolted over to the frail-looking girl as quick as his legs would carry him, crashing down onto his knees beside her. She looked absolutely horrible, Bakugo felt himself cringe at the sight of her blood-covered face. She had large scratches covering each of her limbs, as well as a small bump that seemed to be poking out of the inside of her chest, showing she had definitely broken a few ribs. And to top everything off, there was a large metal rod piercing through the lower right of her abdomen, and it was in deep.

“Dumbass, you look like shit.” Bakugo said to her, supporting her head with one hand while using his other to mess around with the small intercom jammed in his ear, attempting to get some kind of reception so he would be able to call for help.

Y/n slowly lifted her gaze to look up at him, a pained chuckle falling from her bloodied lips. “J-just. . cause I-I can't move d-doesn’t mean I w. . won't kick y-your ass f-for that.” She choked out through her raw throat. Bakugo tsked quietly and shook his head, amazed at how she was able to crack a joke despite being so wounded. 

“Like you could ever kick my ass anyway, shitty girl. Now stop talking, save your breath.” Bakugo continued to mess with his earpiece, finally hearing some static and the voice of his teacher on the other side. 

“Ground zero reporting in, (hero name) severely injured. We need help.” His tone was panicked while his words were rushed out of his mouth. The blonde was willing to waste no time in having help arrive, not with his girlfriend's current state of suffering and deformation.  

“Yeah- I'm at location 23AZ, just hurry up and fucking find me, we don't have time to sit here waiting.” Once Aizawa disconnected, he returned his full attention back to the girl who was practically withering away beneath him. 

Taking a strong grip on the sleeve of his costume, he tore off the fabric, ripping it into something similar of a cloth to push against her stomach wound, a desperate attempt to stop the crimson blood spilling out of it. A small cry of pain escaped Y/n’s throat at the pressure to the gash, and Katsuki felt himself flinch at the sound. It pained his ears to hear such an anguished sound come from the h/c haired girl he called his, but her bleeding out was absolutely not an option, he wouldn’t allow it. Not now, not ever. It appears the amount of stress Bakugo was under was evident on his face, his furrowed brows and bottom lip caught between his teeth not able to slip past the observant gaze of Y/n.

“W-worried. . .isnt a g-good look o-n you. . .” She smiled sadly, weakly reaching up an unstable and jittery hand to softly cup his right cheek, using her thumb to try and pull the edge of his mouth into a small smile. Y/n knew her time was running short, and she wanted to see him smile in her final moments, not upset. Though she knew her reaction would be the same, if not worse if their roles were switched, so she understood his concerns. 

“What the hell else am I supposed to do, idiot? You’re-You-re bleeding out in front of me goddammit.” Bakugo’s words caught in his throat, a small crack in his voice accompanying the evergrowing agony and worry he felt in the pit of his stomach.

“I-its ok-okay, Katsu. . .It hardly. . .e-even hurts anymore.” She was slipping away quickly, her dazed and tired state of mind disabled her from feeling as much pain as she was actually in. It wasn’t good, she would lose consciousness soon, and that couldn’t happen. Bakugo could see her eyelids struggling to stay open, fluttering open and shut every so often as she tried to stay awake. 

Bakugo felt his heart sting in pure fear. Katsuki Bakugo never got scared. He was always confident in his ways and knew that losing would never be an option for him. But right now, he was completely and utterly terrified. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. “Hey, keep your eyes on me, okay? You-You’ve gotta stay awake princess.” That was a pet name she always loved so much. He felt himself leaning into her touch against his ash-covered cheek. The frigid, bitter winter air and lack of blood flowing through her system caused her to be cold to the touch, her normally warm, comforting hands were practically frozen.

“I kn-know. . .but. . .s-so. .tired. . .” Y/n’s lids fell halfway shut, failing to flutter back open like they had been before.

“No. No, you need to keep your f-fucking eyes open, you hear me? Don’t go to sleep. Just-Just a little longer okay?” Bakugo was surprised at his own stuttering and cracks in his voice, but he was even more surprised to feel a drop of blood trickle down his chin. When he raised his hand to wipe it away, he saw no colour on the skin of his hand. It was a clear, shiny liquid. 

Bakugo was crying.

Y/n weakly moved her thumb to wipe away another drop that fell from his tear duct. “d-don’t. . please don't cr-cry. . “ her voice was nothing above a whisper now, the little bit of strength she had left to speak leaving her body. “I-I lo. . love you, ‘kay?” she felt a tear roll down her own cheek. “I love y-you so m. . uch.” She was being forced to say goodbye to someone she knew was her first and only love. Her heart was breaking during the exchange. Katsuki and her had planned to spend so many more years together, make so many more sweet and beautiful memories with each other, cross so many more milestones and hurdles life would throw at them, all while they were one.

Now the harsh reality was, they would never get to experience those years, memories, nor milestones together.

This was their final goodbye.

“I love you more, stop talking like that.” Katsuki’s jaw was clenched tightly shut, his words slipping out of his mouth through gritted teeth. “You’re not gonna fucking die here, goddammit! You can’t fucking leave me behind!”  

Katsuki’s choice of words was important. Y/n was the only one besides Kirishima he allowed to get close to him, it was true. But Y/n was the one who Bakugo was truly able to open up to, without fear of seeming weak or being judged. She was the only one he allowed to really see his true feelings and emotions every moment of every day, even at his weakest points. She was helping him to grow into the great hero he strived to become, she couldn’t leave him.

“I-I need you, you idiot! How am I supposed to be satisfied with being number one if you aren’t there being a close number two?! You’re supposed to do this with me!” Bakugo was shouting now, trying to get through to her weakening body as he felt her slowly fade away in his arms. 

“I-I I know. . you can do-do it. . without me. . .” her eyes fell closed a final time, the hand she held up against his cheek slowly sliding down his skin as her body went limp. Katsuki quickly removed his hand from her abdomen to hold her it up and keep it from falling. No. She couldn’t die here, not like this, not when she deserved to live such an amazing and fulfilled life as a pro hero, not when he had never taken every moment he got to express just how much he did care about her, not when he couldn’t apologize for things like all the fights he’s caused in the past.

All the lighthearted bickering they shared, all the secret sleepovers they had in Bakugo’s dorm, Y/n hiding from Aizawa in Katsuki’s closet when he had shown up unexpectedly, the sweet words of encouragement she would speak to him ever so softly when he was feeling low, he wasn’t ready for that to end. Katsuki would never be ready for that to end. 

“Y/n. . .” Katsuki’s strained voice choked out, waiting for a response. He didn’t receive one. 

“Y/n. Answer me.” He spoke more stern this time with a shake to her body, hoping this was some sick joke and a serious tone of voice would force her into an answer. 

It didn’t work.

Katsuki’s body fell on top of her, head resting atop her chest as he felt like he was about to be sick to his stomach. There was a sharp, yet empty feeling in his gut, it felt like someone had just stabbed him.

No more calls of her name left his lips, no more shaking her body while trying to wake her up, it all stopped. Now he was left alone, shattered into what he felt was a million pieces. She was gone. And here he was, laying on top of the near mangled body of his first love, still holding her cold and limp hand to his cheek while he felt something build up and sting deep in his throat.

As his hearing went fuzzy, and all he could hear was his own racing heartbeat in his ears, Katsuki screamed.

Katsuki screamed out of the sheer ache and torment his body felt as she lay lifeless in his arms.

526 notes · View notes

anthropwashere · 3 years

Text

our indestructible days ch 3

ch 1 | ch 2

Stubborn child! Tenacious little brat!

Pride seethes as he carries his new container up through another ruined, empty floor of Father's home, teeth gnashing at stone and metal. How could one inconsequential human soul cling so stubbornly to its body? Especially after being absorbed into his Philosopher's Stone?

It's lucky the little alchemist is such a mad acrobat, otherwise Pride wouldn't have been able to climb to the surface as quickly as he has, even with his shadows to assist. There's only a floor left between him and the parade field. The light from Father's attack has faded now, but he's still wary of jumping out without having a better idea of the situation out there. The light alone hadn't been enough to damage his Stone, but it had been an altogether painful experience for his true form.

A part of him hates to let those survivors scurry off—all those long years guarding Sloth's tunnel, no doubt—but now isn't the time to hunt down vermin. His Stone has only barely stabilized thanks to those few soldiers he'd consumed. He was able to grow this container a new leg without much strain, but he doubts he'd be much good in a proper fight. He's made the mistake of underestimating humans before. It's not a mistake he's keen on repeating.

He slims his shadows to a few cautious coils, tasting the air. Even up here he can smell the living humans below, soaked in blood and snaking away from the epicenter of things. They could reappear virtually anywhere in Central but he doubts they'll go that far, not with how injured they are. Aside from them there's nothing but corpses down there, which won't do him any good. Thanks to absorbing Gluttony he finds the meat delicious, yes, but it's souls he needs.

Aboveground is a far different story. He sniffs again and can't help but smirk. There's dozens—no, hundreds of humans gathering up there, rushing around with their hearts racing and sweat salting their warm skin. He smells too, all the silly little guns they're hauling around in some vain hope of stopping Father.

Pride licks his lips, eager now. They want a fight, do they? He may be weak, but he thinks he can at least provide Father a distraction.

He's careful to keep his container out of sight as he peers over the last crumbling edge, curling tendrils into the air and squinting in the brightening daylight. Behind him Central Command is in ruins, as if some enormous hand had come along and taken a scoop out of it. He can smell only a handful of living humans there, most of them bloody and bruised and terrified. Before him a triangular stretch of the parade field is charred black, heat to sting the razor edges of him still rising from it. Greasy smoke smothers the air, reducing visibility to a frustrating few feet. From here he can only make out the woman sacrifice, sprawled nearby and barely conscious. He can smell her pain, the new bruises and welling blood, but it's nothing serious. There's no urgent spike of adrenaline in her blood, no sour snap of broken bone nor the damp heat of exposed organs. She'll live, for now.

The wind shifts. He narrows his eyes, sniffing, and finds the shredded remains of Alphonse Elric's armor a little further off. Beside it is the troublesome Xingese girl, weeping loudly. Has the younger Elric's blood seal broken? Either way, he won't be taking part in this fight any longer, not in the shape he's in.

The woman sacrifice—Izumi, wasn't it?—wakes, coughing roughly. "H-Hohenheim," she forces out, and as if summoned by her voice Father appears before her, so quickly that neither Pride’s eyes nor nose sensed him move. A strong hand grabs Van Hohenheim out of the dust that had obscured him as well, knocking him aside like so much refuse. He lands in a heap some distance off. Pride pays his piteous groaning no mind, relieved to see that Father still has God's power within him.

"Father!" He cries, springing out into the open to present himself. Izumi twitches nearby, straining to see him over her bloodied shoulder.

"You're first," Father says, raising his hand. Red light arcs between his fingertips. Too late, Pride realizes what he means to do—

Pain riots through his container. All his thoughts collapse to panicked static. His newly acquired lungs and heart seize, his every muscle spasms and his every joint locks. He would scream if he could because to have true flesh is to be set on fire. He'd thought the leg bad before, but he'd retreated into his Stone at the first white-hot shock of hurt and here he's pinned in place, nerves flayed, choking on ash—he can't, he isn't, how is it possible to—hurt—so completely? Defense—he—he must defend against—shadows—his self—all gone, he can't think, he can't—

Father is going to kill him—

A gunshot cracks in the distance, and a wound appears in a fizzle of come-and-go alchemical light at Father's temple. Father's concentration breaks. Pride nearly falls on all fours, sucking in dirty air with a relief that unmoors him. He doesn't hesitate, falling back on the instincts of this taken flesh. His hammering heart says run, so he runs. He sprints through the thinning smoke, wanting distance, needing time to get his bearings, needing to understand why Father just tried to kill him—

He ducks behind some heap of rubble near Central Command's wall, pressing his spine against it and shutting his eyes against the acrid sting. He's—he's panicking. He is, isn't he? He's never one to panic. He is first of the homunculi, oldest and strongest and cleverest. He won't—can't—be cowed so easily as this. Even if—even if it was Father that came so close to—

He is one part of a greater whole. This is something he's always known. But it's never occurred to him that Father might one day want that part back.

No. Never mind that. Father had his reasons. He always does. Surely Father only intended to siphon Fullmetal's soul away, to tear the stubborn child out so Pride could have unfettered control over this container—

[Coward.]

Pride freezes—still panting for breath, damn this flesh—and glares with several pairs of eyes. That voice. It shouldn't be possible, and yet— "Just how many of you damned insects are clinging to sentience within my stone?!"

[Oh, it's just Fullmetal and myself in here, and he's not doing too well at the moment.] Kimblee's laughter grates for all that it's not, technically, real. [He doesn't enjoy the company as much as I do.]

In the distance Pride can hear-smell humans shouting, soldiers making a perimeter in some feeble-minded attempt at hemming Father in, barking out nonsensical orders to one another over the bustle and clatter of all their useless weaponry. A man shouts over a megaphone that Fullmetal is not to be confused with Father, which is a relief and in some small way, terribly funny. He watches the clamor with his container's eyes, peering carefully around the crumbling edge of what might have been a bit of the east wing. If he focuses he thinks he can very nearly feel the pinpoints of solidity within his Stone, Kimblee as fine and bright as a needle, Fullmetal a stolid lump fumbling his way back to consciousness at a snail's pace. "I suppose you'll be wanting to fight me for control over this body next?"

[Oh no, not at all. It'd be a poor fit, I think. And besides, I already have a front row seat to the glorious battle going on right now. Just listen to it!]

The attacks are certainly concussive, if nothing else. From his position on the field it only looks like the soldiers are wasting a great deal of ammunition for nothing; Father's glimmering shield is protecting him even from the heat and dust of the blasts. Some soldier down there belts out a command to take cover and scarcely a moment later a gout of flame rushes down the same charred path as Father's earlier attack to engulf the majority of the parade ground in an inferno. It seems that despite his newfound blindness the Flame Alchemist remains unwilling to sit idly by while there's murder and mayhem to sow. Still, it'll take more than that to slow Father down now.

"They stand no chance against him," he mutters aloud. The plan has fallen apart, perhaps disastrously so, but Father will win. It's only a matter of time.

[No chance?] Kimblee asks, pausing when another gout of flame explodes across the parade field. This one Father catches as easily as a child's toy and sends it right back. Even after that display, amusement curls Kimblee's voice. Infuriating creature. [You say there's no chance, that you homunculi are so much better than humans, but what's Greed without his human vessel? What are you?]

"I am Pride the Arro—"

[Just the two of you left now, and that only thanks to the humans you've attached yourselves to. You claim to be higher life forms, yet you're really nothing more than parasites. How disappointing.]

"I won't die here! Whatever the cost, I refuse to die today!"

[And if your Father willed it otherwise?]

He flinches, and loathes this treacherous body all the more.

[He seemed eager enough to kill you a moment ago,] Kimblee goes on cheerfully, [Yet you turned tail and ran away the second you could. You were named for your dignity as much as your arrogance, yet all you've proven today is that you're a hypocrite and a coward.]

"BE SILENT, KIMBLEE!"

[Mmph.] The Fullmetal lump shifts within his Stone, waking up properly. Pride very nearly throws his hands up in exasperation. [Ah, hell. That hurt. What happened?]

[Welcome back, Edward. I wasn't sure you'd be joining us again.]

Pride curls his mouth irritably, digs dirty nails into the stone's crumbling edge. The automail arm only twitches at his side, still stubbornly resistant to his will. "How many times must I put you in your place until you stay there?"

[Ha. At least one more. Where are we?]

Pride has no chance to reply before his control is tugged away from him. Edward Elric wavers, bracing himself with both hands against the same stretch of scorched stone. Pride's connection to the container and all its startling sensations remains; a sour tang of nausea burns their shared throat, dizziness makes their pulse pound in their ears, a line of sweat down their spine makes them shiver. Edward directs their eyes about the parade field and back to Central Command, taking in the splendor of Father's power. Their ears ache with the ceaseless crack and boom of gunfire.

"Holy shit,” Edward breathes.

With a growl of displeasure Pride pushes back and retakes control. The boy's too stunned to put up more than a token resistance, one that's easily brushed aside. Pride smiles, licking the new configuration of his teeth. "Do you understand now? Do you see what Father is capable of, despite all your little tricks? Are you still so certain you'll win?"

Kimblee whispers, so quietly that Edward seems not to hear, [Are you?]

[Of course I am,] Edward retorts, and while he's unable to wrestle control of his body back he does manage a few of the eyes circling at their feet. Their shared vision wobbles and blurs, and Edward grumbles. [Jeez, how can you stand this? I think I'm gonna puke.]

"Then stop it."

[Nah.] Their shadow twitches, an inelegant lurch that nevertheless forces one of their eyes to loll, and in just such a way that it glimpses Edward's bare left foot. Through their mutable connection of his Stone Pride feels the stuttering evolution of Edward's reaction—dumbfounded, denying, horrified, furious. Their mouth opens against his will and Edward's snarl froths out. "My—my leg. It's—the automail—it's gone. You—you son of a bitch! You really cut it off?!"

[It was slowing me down,] Pride replies calmly, content for the moment to take refuge in his Stone. It almost feels as he did in his Selim container this way; placid, unflappable, controlled. [You're welcome, by the way. I saved you the trouble of trying to get back the original one.]

"Wh—That's not the point! Al and I made a promise! After we found out the cost of making a Philosopher's Stone we promised not to use one for ourselves! We never wanted to be so selfish as to use another life to fix our mistake! Al and I—we—I didn't...."

Edward's inhale is a shaky mess. He sways again, gritting his teeth. It seems he has a new tendency to speak through more than one mouth if he lets his anger get the better of him. How interesting. Pride certainly hadn't manifested one of the three thin mouths in their shadow. Edward bends at their waist to brush their left hand across their new knee cap, draws a line down their shin, splays their toes on the sun-warmed concrete. Pride feels each sensation like a static shock, which isn't half so bizarre as the curdled snatches of Edward's thoughts he absorbs secondhand. Nerve damage—phantom pain in the night—gone, it's gone, he shouldn't feel anything because it's gone—Granny said the cold would be harder on him—cold night spent lying awake, teeth gritted, muscles aching—no amount of massaging around the ports ever helped—Al's metallic voice, "Did you dream about Mom again—"

Pride retreats deeper into his Stone, startled by how real that felt. The ever-groaning souls inside him keep their distance from his toothsome shape—all but Kimblee, who sidles up to him with an overly familiar grin.

Outside, Edward reins in his anger enough to ask, "Where's Alphonse?"

[In pieces,] he replies sullenly, and finds base satisfaction in the diminished jolt of panic he feels from the boy. [The Xingese girl has been using what's left of his armor as a shield—]

Red light crackles in their shared vision and a feeling not unlike a brand burns his Philosopher's Stone. He writhes within and without, as much from shock as from pain. When he can see clearly again Edward's braced against the rubble, breathing raggedly. "Shut up," he growls.

[You're so willing to be free of me you'll hurt yourself to do it?] Pride marvels.

"Shut up," Edward repeats, a mouth splitting in their shadow to hiss the same. "You too, Kimblee."

[I didn't say anything.]

"I can feel how much you're enjoying this." He spits, wiping their mouth with the back of his automail hand, then begins a clumsy half-jog back into the thick of things. There's no telling if it's the new leg or their shadow nipping at their heels giving him more trouble.

[Where are you going?] Pride demands. [What do you intend to do?]

"I'm gonna find Al, then I'm gonna make that bastard pay."

[If you confront him, Father will take my Stone for sure!]

"Good. Let him take care of you for me!"

[He'll kill you too!]

"I don't care!" Edward picks up speed, keeping low and favoring their new leg. When Pride opens a train of eyes in their shadow Edward trips, slapping a hand over their container's eyes with a curse. Nausea tongues his Stone, altogether unpleasant. "I gotta make sure Al's okay!"

[Damn you!] For all that he tries to wrest back control Edward just hangs on to himself harder. Pride rages, scattering souls like gravel beneath the wild sweep of his awareness. Edward snarls back and picks up speed.

[Such dedication!] Kimblee exults, a white sore in his Stone. [Such drive! He really is an admirable creature, isn't? Put a fire under him and he'll burn himself gladly for the chance to keep those he cares for out of it!]

[Be quiet!]

Kimblee calms, raising one unimpressed eyebrow. [Why should I listen to you? A pitiful homunculus who couldn't keep a single human under heel?]

Pride seethes.

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #my writing

21 notes · View notes

masked-buffoon · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5: One’s desires (Part 4)

Warnings: blackmail, mind control

Author notes: Ogawa being a girl for once didn’t seem like such a bad idea... What do you think? XD

The weeks passed, rather quickly. It was meaningful to say human life was spent within a blink; time had never fled so fast to me, although the fourteen first years of my existence had been dull, filled with boredom, to the point a second would seem like an hour to me.

The day of Mori-san's birthday approached, and Dazai-san looked more and more concerned about my own presence at the party. The lower men would definitely have their evening off to spend with their families while the executives and their second in command would enjoy the luxurious festivities with corrupted businessmen and politics; I, a mere lieutenant, was not supposed to be there, even though I was Dazai-san's protege. I wonder if his other subordinate, the "dog", had been invited as well. I had heard rumours about his strength but had never gotten the opportunity to meet him in person. Would we get along...? However, those thoughts were just a small matter in comparison to the problem I had on my hands; I looked horrible.

Any woman would want to dress up for a party, even more for a fancy event. Picking up her outfit and choosing her makeup according to her hairstyle were points a member of the feminine gender could not neglect, for appearance also represented who she was inside. A woman could not dress up in any way... But I... I was a hideous person, so thin the bones of my back and my ribs actually showed when I looked at my bare body in the mirror. Despite the sleep I had been granted, my eyes were still circled and my hair was completely colourless, as if it was not even alive. I gritted my teeth in front of the mirror, then resigned myself to wear my usual suit, which managed to hide the horrible thing I had for a body. I had no curve and my chest, due to long time starvation, was flatter than the usual. There was no way the ugliness I saw in the mirror could be covered up by a pretty dress and nice makeup. I would just end up shaming Dazai-san... Oh... No one expected a lowly lieutenant like me to look good anyway, as long as I wore something correct. I would just be there because the Boss had ordered me to. Even so, was it wrong to wish I could dress up, even for an evening...?

"You seem down, lately, Ogawa-kun." My superior noted when I entered his office in the morning.

"I can't pretend the contrary..." I sighed "Moreover, it is such a ridiculous reason..."

"Do tell me. I am so bored, you could make me laugh~"

"If you insist..." I cracked a smile "Actually, I am troubled by my outfit for the Boss' party... I can't pick one..."

"Too many choices~? Men have it easy, any suit can dress us up." He chuckled.

"If only...! It's just that... Nothing could suit me..." I confessed "But that's just a trivial matter, nothing involving life or death..."

"I must say, I thought you didn't care about such things." He told me "And to be honest, it is not 'trivial', as you would put it. It is not vital, indeed, but it is not trivial. If it is important to you, you have the right to be troubled over your outfit."

"Do you really think so...?" I was shocked by his reaction, not expecting his support the least.

"Of course. And I'm even going to help you by giving you advice. What about you go and see ane-san? She will most certainly be able to find you something."

"D-Dazai-san..." I could not help feeling grateful "Thank you..."

"Don't worry~ You'll be perfectly fine. Besides, you're okay as you are, so don't torment yourself too much." He smiled.

I felt myself blushing slightly upon hearing his words. Although he was just being nice... It was good to be complimented from time to time.

The day of the party, the very feminine executive of the Port Mafia accepted to take care of my appearance, not without stating it was a shame I had not come to see her earlier. She was one of the few women in the organisation and, although I had sometimes watched her taking part of a torture session, our relationship had remained strictly professional. I was not even aware that she had kept an eye on me all this time...

"You should eat more." She stated, taking a look at me "Does Dazai-kun not give you enough money to feed yourself?"

"That's not it..." I shook my head "I just... Don't use the money for eating..."

"Is that so...? That being said, there are rumours about a morphine addict in that boy's squadron. Do you know anything about it?" She asked.

She was terrifying. There was not a single thing happening in the Mafia that she did not know of and, despite not uttering a single word about these matters, she watched it all in the shadows. Even so, she also had a reassuring and mother-like presence which made me feel safe. I could tell she would not harm me in any way. Her hands stroked the skin of my cheeks as she examined my face, thoughtfully.

"Your eyes have a beautiful colour." She noted "It is very unusual. Who do you take after?"

"I'm not sure..." I admitted "Perhaps... My mother...?"

"What do you mean you are not sure?" She sighed "Whatever... Modern clothes won't fit. I'll find a suitable kimono for you. Besides, the obi makes a rather practical place to hide your gun. It'll be perfect."

"I don't know how to thank you... Helping me out like this... Whereas you must have much more important matters to take care of..."

"What are you saying?" She giggled "I really enjoy dressing you up like a doll. Besides, who said we were done~? There is a dozen outfits waiting for you to try them on~"

"Is... Is that so...?" I grimaced.

"Of course~ And we'll find the perfect one, believe me~"

After an afternoon of being wrapped in silk by ane-san, she finally made up her mind and accepted to give me a night blue kimono covered in colourful flowers. The sleeves were long, characteristic of the furisode worn by young unmarried girls and the obi was not tied too much so I could easily put a gun under it to defend myself. The executive smiled at me gently as she combed my hair with her delicate hands, doing her best despite its short length. Finally, she clipped in various hairpins and jewels to make it look better.

"You look very pretty." She complimented me "It was worth asking for my help, finally."

"Of course...!" I agreed, barely able to hide my joy "I am very grateful..."

"By the way, Ogawa-chan... Do you know what the flowers on your kimono mean? I'm afraid it might bother you..." She hummed.

I considered her question and lowered my eyes to study the patterns on the sleeves. They were red, scarlet flowers, splattered like blood on the silk. She had not asked such a thing innocently… I chuckled and a slight smirk made its way to my face.

"Higanbana..." I recognised them "Red spider lilies. It doesn't bother me, I am used to carrying death around me. I only fear the Boss may find it ominous, if anything."

"I'm sure he won't mind. I just realised, but that colour suited you so well..." She laughed softly.

"Of course it does, ane-san. What am I, but a murderer? Even makeup and a fancy attire can't hide that fact. But I do not care."

"We are flowers of darkness that can only bloom in the shadows. Our beauty shall not radiate in the sun, after all..." She patted my shoulders "Just let me paint your lips with rouge, then you'll be ready, Ogawa-chan."

"Thank you, ane-san. For everything."

She grinned.

"Our heart shall never soften, lest we want to fall apart."

Kōyō ane-san accompanied me to the party, dressed in a gorgeous red kimono which enlightened her naturally pale complexion. Thanks to her presence, I was noticed by only few curious people and could easily make my way inside the crowd of mafiosi and corrupted officials chatting, drink in hand. I took a deep breath and put a hand onto the gun, carefully put inside the obi. If anything were to happen, I could defend both myself and Dazai-san. There was nothing I had to fear, despite the feeling of uneasiness overwhelming me.

"Ogawa...? Oh, it really is you...!" A familiar voice greeted me from behind.

Calmly, I turned around and wore my most polite smile, before realising it was Oda-san. I relaxed my posture.

"Good evening." I nodded at him "Dazai-san told me he had invited you. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Not quite." He admitted, rubbing the back of his head "I'm not used to all of that..."

"The fanciness...?" I guessed "Neither am I... I must say, it is too much for the poor slum girl I am."

"Yet, you carry yourself so properly..." He remarked "Not that I am here to judge..."

"I originally come from a rich house." I recalled "I remember seeing my mother greeting some important guests. She wore a kimono too..."

"I see... You never talk about your parents."

"I never talk about the people I kill. I could speak about the plethora of cowards who deflected the Port Mafia as well, but they aren't interesting." I grinned.

"Oh..."

"My apologies, Oda-san... I know you do not kill... All that talk must have made you uncomfortable."

"I'm not... Uncomfortable. Only intrigued. Do you enjoy that work...?"

I frowned, taken aback.

"Do I enjoy it? Obviously I don't." I blinked "It's just work..."

"You don't seem particularly repulsed by it either."

"Is an office worker repulsed by paperwork?" I glanced at him.

"It happens... When there is too much."

"Then, the man is an idiot. Working is vital to earn money, and money is vital to live, although too much creates such greed human beings tend to become vicious." I sighed "Whatever..."

"I'm not sure to ever understand that way of thinking..." He shrugged it off.

"That's because you perhaps haven't lived in the shallows yourself. Surviving... This is my only way of living. I don't care about being immoral." I smiled.

"Yeah... I can see that. At least, you know that what you do is bad..."

"Who would think killing is good?"

"There is someone I know who doesn't quite make the difference between good and evil..."

"Oh, really? I wonder if we are not thinking about the same person..."

"What are you talking about~?"

We both became more cheerful upon seeing Dazai-san appearing in front of us with his carefree smile. I noted, amused, that he had not bothered getting changed at all, wearing his usual dark suit and his heavy coat I found so warm.

"Nothing important." I told him "Good evening, Dazai-san."

"Good evening, Odasaku, Ogawa-kun~ So you did go to ane-san. I'm glad she found something suitable." He said.

"Thank you." I felt my cheeks heat up the slightest.

"Do you want a glass of champagne?" He suggested as a waiter carrying a tray walked next to us.

I accepted and had a taste of the drink. I had heard it was expensive alcohol, produced in France. A single bottle of good champagne could cost hundreds of dollars and even more yen. I brought it to my lips. It was sweet, a tad bitter, but overall sweet. The bubbles made it a fresh drink, the perfect one for a fancy event like the one we were attending. I remembered when I was younger... The father used to import it to sell it in Japan to other rich businessmen. He would always keep one or two bottles for himself. He had done so for wine, too.

"So, are you enjoying yourselves~?" My superior asked us.

"I feel uneasy..." Oda-san admitted "I might go look for Ango."

"Oh, I'll reach you soon...!" He promised "What about you, Ogawa-kun?"

"I'm anxious." I declared without detour "Why was I invited...? I am a mere lieutenant, I don't have my place in there."

"You don't stand out." He chuckled "But, indeed, why were you invited...? I had a talk with the Boss, a moment ago, and he refused to tell me anything."

"I'm afraid we'll have to find out..."

"Good evening Dazai-kun, Ogawa-kun." A poised voice interrupted our talk.

We both turned around, and I bowed, automatically, feeling as though my back was being pushed down by some uncontrollable strength. The charisma emanating from this person, the imposing fear-inducing aura of his... It was far more powerful than Dazai-san's, and my whole being shook in fright before him. So, he was the Boss of the Port Mafia, Mori Ōgai-san... The merciless leader of this organisation...

"We've already seen each other." My superior was the first to raise and look at the Boss "Several minutes ago."

"Indeed. Ogawa-kun, you may raise. After all, you are my guest, tonight...~" He demanded.

I was paralysed. This was an order, I had to obey his order so I would not be punished, yet I... Was unable to even lift a finger. This man bore no good intention.

A glass fell down and cracked on the ground, waking me up from my dazed off state.

"Oh my, I'm so clumsy...~" Dazai-san chuckled as people came to pick up the shattered pieces of glass.

I immediately regained consciousness and smiled at Mori-san.

"It is an honour to have been invited, Boss." I said in a breath.

"Well, I wanted to introduce you to someone important, after all." He smiled back "Dazai-kun, how could you drop this precious crystal glass?"

"I hurt my hand with a knife earlier, and the pain loosened my grip."

He was lying, with a most casual smile. However, I could feel that those were no usual words. The Boss had easily deduced the executive had attempted to save me and was silently threatening him, with this fake, knowing and mischievous smile. I wanted to run away.

"Be more careful in the future." He advised, smug "Ogawa-kun?"

I hesitated upon taking his hand into mine, sensing that as soon as I would make contact with him, my fate would be sealed and I would not be able to go back on my words. Moreover... I was unsure whether it was permitted to touch the Boss of the Port Mafia. I sought approval from my executive.

"Yes, Boss..." I timidly obeyed, registering the nod from Dazai-san.

"So..." His voice lowered so I was the only one hearing him "You have no choice but to do as I say, now."

His fingers imperceptibly crushed mine, and I held back a gasp of pain.

"Whether you like it or not, you will use your ability for me. Otherwise, someone you care about will die. You know I cannot kill Dazai-kun, but I have my sources, and it seems someone miraculously survived the massacre of your family... Isn't it odd~?"

My heart skipped a bit, and I let the Boss drag me across the room, completely losing both composure and willpower. Ruriko-chan... How had he known? Then, again, he was the leader of this underground organisation, there was nothing he would not be aware of...

"If I reveal the truth to Dazai-kun, how will he react, do you think? He will be disappointed, he will toss you aside like a worthless pawn..." He smirked at me "We would not want that, would we~? Not after everything he did to keep you there~”

"N-No, Boss..."

I was in front of a child. He was small, had deep eyes lost in thoughts and held onto the ugliest plush toy I had ever seen. Mori-san let go of me to introduce us and slowly pushed the boy closer to me.

"This is Yumeko Kyūsaku-kun, call him Q. He is eleven and a member of the Port Mafia too, and has an ability involving breaking people."

Horrible. This man was horrible, and despicable. At eleven years old, how could he make this poor boy a member of an organisation...? It was insane. I felt as though I had stepped onto a mined ground.

"Hello, Q-kun..." I tried a friendly smile "My name is Ogawa Yōko, I am glad to meet you —"

As I was going to shake his small hand, I retracted immediately upon seeing the razor blade in the palm of his hand. What on Earth...?

"Oh, you noticed it, miss...!" He chuckled, much like a madman "Too bad, I can't show you madness~"

This boy was sick, too. He was mentally unstable, what was I even doing, talking to him? Around me, the silence had fallen, and hundreds of evil looks were turned toward us. People were expecting; what was the show Mori-san would create for them? What kind of twisted plot had the Boss planned to entertain his guests?

"What do you want from me...?" I glared at the Boss.

"That boy... Has troubles." He grinned "I do not quite understand what is in his mind, and I would simply like you to read his thoughts."

"Oh... Well..." I looked at Q-kun a moment "He's very glad to see the light, for once, and only wants to have fun... If I may, Boss, teaching a child to have fun with razor blades is not quite... Sane."

"We do agree about that, then. You see, Q has always been a peculiar child... He seeks joy in madness, his own and people's. But that's not our topic. Ogawa-kun, I'm afraid you misunderstood me." His eyes narrowed.

"Did I...?" My voice came out meekly.

"I have no interest in these useless and superficial thoughts. What I want to know is his inner desires. Because it is the true power of The Sweet Appeals, isn't it? Discovering one's deepest and secret desires...~"

My hands trembled uncontrollably in fear. What was he going to do to me?

"I... I don't quite control it..." I defended.

"I don't care about that. I need you to delve in Q's world, and you will."

Suddenly, someone pushed me against the boy. Quickly, I grabbed his shoulders to prevent us from falling on the floor, then knelt in front of him.

"Are you alright?" I inquired "Are you injured anywhere?"

Q-kun's innocent and dumbfounded face turned into a large smirk when he heard my question, and, with horror, I noticed his sleeves were reddening. I backed away, terrified. He had blades hidden on his arms as well, and I had unintentionally hurt him... Mori-san grabbed the ugly plush from the boy's arms, earning a displeased whine, and showed it to me.

"When that thing is torn up... That boy's ability turns on...~ So~? What will you be able to find in the world of madness, I wonder~? Oh and by the way... If you hurt any of my guests, I'll have you killed~ That being said..."

"Ogawa-kun...!"

The moment Dazai-san was about to reach us, guards restrained him and kept him farther. I was frightened. So much that I wanted to break into tears. What was going to happen to me...? I did not want to die...! My heart thumped in my chest and time seemed to slow down. All too brusquely, I saw the doll being torn in two.

Nothing happened, at first. Then, one by one, a mark appeared on the guests and they started attacking me. I remembered the Boss' words about hurting them, and did nothing. If I were to hurt them, even the slightest, he would take my life... The punch never came. Was that an illusion? It did not hurt. But still... Containing the part of me who wanted to counterattack was becoming harder as the seconds passed. What was I supposed to find in there, anyway...? There was nothing related to Q-kun, nothing I could hear about his thoughts, nothing at all... And how to get out of there? I started sobbing like a lost child. I wanted to go out. I wanted to be freed from that nightmare!

Something hurt. An attack. Somehow, it had touched me. I realised that, the more time I spent in the illusion, the less I had control on my own mind, and the more I would give in to madness. I groaned as the guests hit me, but did not try to defend myself. How to leave...?

"Stop it... Stop it... I beg you... Stop..." I cried "Someone... Someone...! Help...!"

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu

8 notes · View notes

we-love-the-murder-bois · 5 years

Text

Clingy! Pennywise x S/o

Derry was a strange place. It had terrible winters and hot summers, the locals never talked when they passed, and all the stores seemed to be on borrowed time. Some days, you could go without seeing someone, and other days you constantly brushed shoulders. People left Derry and didn't come back, leaving the populous made up of older folks who had been born there, children of fishermen and shopkeeps.

But there were some variations. Some young people who never left or drove too far and found themselves in a strange little town on the coast. There was a girl who was neither of those. She didn't know how she came to the town, she just knew it was where she was meant to be. Maybe she had always been there, maybe she had only been around for a few months. Time passed strange in Derry.

She wasn't sadistic or cruel like many others in the town, but she wasn't soft and kind either. She had her sides. She was crude like a mainer, yet had a manner like an out of towner. She just existed, not minding her strange town and it's strange way of life. The locals called her naive, but she was well aware of her town.

She was currently going about her day, shopping at her favorite ma and pa shop. It was mostly homemade, from wood carvings to glass trinkets. She was currently looking at baskets, running her fingers along the intricate weaves. They reminded her of a simpler time, of youth and sugar, and a small closet with old toys.

She smiled, gently picking a basket up off of the shelf and holding it out in front of her. She'd hold onto it, see how it felt before she made a decision. She didn't really need it, but she was a collector. She liked things that made her smile.

A flash of red caught her eye, bringing her attention away from the basket. The colour came from a dusty glass bottle, which she slowly approached. She hesitantly reached out her hand, wiping dust away the the pad of her thumb. The small patch of clean glass showed her own warped reflection staring back at her. She rolled her eyes, wiping the dust off on her jeans before she noticed something.

Her eyes widened as she saw a blurry figure behind her and felt damp breath tickle her neck. She yelped, turning around with her basket brandished.

Nothing but the empty isle and the face of a curious child peeking around the corner, before his mother pulled him away, greeted her. The young woman scoffed, turning back around and scrubbing more dust from the glass. She picked it up, holding it up in front of her to look behind the reflection of her blurry face.

Nothing.

She hesitantly put down the glass and continued her shopping, back going rigid when she felt breath against her neck again.

She caught a flash of light in the corner of her eye, waiting for the breath to get closer before she snapped her head towards the handheld mirror on one of the shelves, revealing a thing standing behind her.

"Pennywise, what are you doing here?" She crossed her arms, glaring half heartedly at the grinning clown behind her. She couldn't see him to well through the dusty glass, but she knew he was smiling.

She felt pressure on her waist and back as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck as his glowing orange eyes stayed trained on hers.

"I couldn't help it." He whined in his over dramatic manor, giving a toothy smile that took up most of his face. The girl gave him a flat look, but leaned back into him, knowing she looked strange standing in the middle of the isle.

"I was just going shopping, I wouldn't be gone forever." She chuckled at the clown's antics, reaching a hand behind her to run through his hair. Pennywise was clingy, and even when she couldn't see him, she knew he was often around.

"It was long enough." God, he sounded like a pouty child. She was thankful he wasn't always childish, but he definitely had his moments. She blamed his form or his fucked up sense of humour.

She continued on with her shopping, placing shiny things and curios in her basket. Penny's nose was pressed against the back if her neck, reminding her of a golden retriever, just more murdery. And groping her.

Speaking of dogs...

She made a noise of surprise as something warm and wet slid across her shoulder and the back of her neck, leaving moisture dripping down her back.

"Did you just lick me?" She grabbed a spoon and held it up, watching as the warped face of her partner showed no remorse, simply grinning. Her back was sticky, and it was not comfortable.

"I couldn't help it, you smelled irresistible, darling. Mouth watering." His voice was low and in her ear, literally drooling onto her shoulder. There was a time and a place, Angel's Attic wasn't that place.

"Penny!" She squeaked, rubbing his saliva off, or attempting to, with her free hand. "Just let me check out and I'll go home and you can be as weird as you want." Despite the annoyance, she was smiling, amused by the strange being that made her life so interesting.

"You promise we can play later?" He rasped, too many teeth brushing against her ear as clawed hands stroked the bottom of her ribcage under her shirt. She shivered, forcing herself to calm down and act normal and not like a demon clown was whispering in her ear.

She wiggled free and turned around to wrap her arms around the nonexistent figure, burying her face into translucent ruffles against a chest with a heart that didn't beat on time. He smelled like death, like he always did, but she had learned to get used to many things over the last few years, or however long it had been. It came with the territory.

"I promise, now scram! Half this town already think I'm a skitzo." She felt teeth briefly brush against against her neck before the air was no longer solid and Pennywise was gone, leaving her to stumble with a curse.

She stood and brushed off her clothes, checking out and thankfully not still covered in clown spit.

She still felt his eyes on her, occasionally feeling the soft brush of his breath behind her or seeing his breathtaking eyes glowing in the shadows. She didn't bother to say anything, she knew he liked to keep an eye on her. Even if it meant dealing with Pennywise's antics in every aspect of her life.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

-----------

First fresh request is done! I'm not the biggest fav of Pennywise as a interest, but each is own. I can't say I don't see it at all.

Sorry if I didn't go enough into depth, it kind of wrote itself? If people want more world building, just request it! I can definitely do more, it just didn't fit with the direction I had.

And I apologize for the use of 'skitzo' as a reference to a person with skitzophrenia. It just fit better into the town.

(Fun fact, I used to live in Derry! Well, not technically, but the town it was based on. Bangor Maine, sadly with a lower population of murder clowns, was the inspiration and Stephen King's own town. I still live in Maine and am in Bangor daily, so descriptions are from how I know my town.)

#slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #slashers x reader #IT #it x reader #pennywise x reader #pennywise x you #it chapter two #it chap 1 #it chap 2

303 notes · View notes

asbigastheskybook · 6 years

Text

The one where Tak and Emory go to a party in their kigurimi

Spring break had come and gone and on a foggy night in early April, the Shark and the Hedgehog sauntered up the dark streets of Berkeley, walking from Shattuck BART to Haste, up to College Avenue. They held hands as they walked in shadows, enjoying the quiet spring night once they were above Telegraph. They were headed to a place near the Julia Morgan building for a party put on by the Pan-Asian student union. It was to be an Animal Onesie themed party to raise money for a member of the union who was battling leukemia while trying to finish her masters degree. They wore the onesies Emory’s aspiring fashion designer little sister had sewn them. Emory hadn't wanted to go at all but Tak pointed out that nearly everyone there was going to be an Asian nerd which made Emory feel a little less out of place than he did at other college parties full of red cup woo-bros.

Neither of them wanted to be sober, and neither of them wanted to try to find parking in Elmwood, and neither of them wanted to shell out for a driver so they walked, choosing to wear the onesies instead of carrying a backpack and trying to keep track of it all night. They had just reached College Avenue and were nearly there when some asshole in a yellow hummer screeched to a stop where they were crossing the street, revved his engine, rolled down the window and screamed,

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY YOU FUCKIN CHING CHONG FAGGOTS!” And as soon as their toes touched the sidewalk on the other side of the intersection he peeled out, fishtailing over the narrow suburban streets.

“Jesus what the fuck?” Tak glared at the tail lights.

“Well he does drive a hummer.” Emory shrugged and looked at his shoes.

“I hope he chokes on a bag of sweaty dicks,” Tak grumbled.

“Hey,” Emory stopped and looked at Tak “Don't let that shitbag ruin your night. He means nothing.”

“I am trying not to. I was a little scared, Em. I forget that not everyone, even in Berkeley, is cool with gay dudes or Asians. Or gay Asians.” Tak kicked at some leaves on the sidewalk.

“Gaysians,” Emory corrected.

Tak laughed so hard he snorted. “Emory, I don't know what I would do without your smart ass.” He draped his long shark fins over the stout hedgehog.”We’re almost there, lets get baked.” He brought out his vape. Tak had brought an Indica, super stupid and stoney, not meant for anyone who had anything important to do today or probably tomorrow either. The plan was to get as high as possible in order to tolerate the crowds of other Asian students in fuzzy animal suits dancing to K-Pop. Tak had originally planned not to go, despite being regularly involved with the organization, but then someone had made a comment about him not really being that Asian and he wasn't about to take any shit from some third gen kid who didnt even speak his own language fluently when Tak, despite mostly appearing black, spoke nearly fluent Japanese.

They strolled another block to the party, several animals outside chatting over loud music emanating from inside. There was a gaggle of Japanese girls in matching unicorn onesies, a kangaroo, a corgi, a giraffe, two Pikachus, and a Totoro.

“I didn't know we could wear character onesies.” Tak pouted.

“Yeah that's bullshit, they said animals. I wanted to be Cthulhu.” Emory scowled, but not seriously. The Indica was taking over, and shuffling into the building was taking concentration. They shouldered their way inside and headed straight to the makeshift bar where they got juices, Ramune for Tak and grass jelly for Emory. Nearby tables held all sorts of snacks from the Asian market. There was dried squid, onigiri, rice crackers, wasabi peas, dumplings, etc. Not even the worse case of the munchies could convince Emory to eat party food that other people had touched and then put their hands to their mouths, and then back to the bowl. Gross.

The plan was to make a loop to say hello, then make another loop to say goodbye and then get the fuck out. Tak knew most people here and Emory knew a fair bit as well, but this was the first time they had gone to a college party as a couple and Emory gave no fucks what people thought, but he could tell Tak wasn't completely there yet, and considering the incident with the hummer bro, he tread carefully.

So it was a bit of a jolt when Emory introduced Tak to two vietnamese guys, Tu (Husky dog) and Rithi (racoon), as his boyfriend. Tak froze up when Tu offered out a fist to bump, and Emory caught a glimpse of Tak’s hesitation. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, but he was a little indignant. He tried to remember that Tak and he were both super high and not to trip out and what-if the hell out of a little hesitation for a handshake. It wasn't until after they had finished chatting with Tu and Rithi and Tak still wouldn't meet his eyes that he started to get pissed.

Emory spotted a back hallway leading to a door and without a word grabbed Tak’s fin in his paw and dragged him to it. He lugged the shark into the hall, glowering, before opening the door and yanking Tak inside.

It was not a back door to the outside as Emory had hoped, it was a closet. There was a mop and bucket, some big box size packages of toilet paper and paper towels, and other relevant miscellany. A bare bulb glowed from the ceiling. Emory, flustered at this development, quickly reached to lock the door behind them.

“Tak, what the fuck. I can't tell people you're my boyfriend here?” Emory asked, hurt and accusatory.

“I'm sorry I did that. I really am. I don't know why I did that.” Tak said, clearly grappling with being just a little too high for the conversation.

“If you don't want to be out at a party, you have to tell me before we get there. I don’t have a problem keeping it under wraps, especially if you don't feel safe, but you have to let me know, Tak,” Emory breathed hard through his nose when he finished speaking.

“ I do. I did. I do.” Tak stammered. It was unlike him to drop his eyes and struggle. “I,.. Emory, that was the first time anyone ever called me a faggot. I'm not joking when I say that Hummer dude scared me. I don't want to get beat up and murdered just for being in love with you. I started spacing out on the walk over here thinking about what I would do if someone tried to fuck with us. I thought about what I’d do if someone hurt you. I started just spiraling into worst case scenarios and thinking about how I take our safety for granted here. I was buggin’ out and I shut down. I'm a little too high, Im sorry,” he heaved a heavy sigh.

“For being in love with you” played on a loop in Emory’s mind as his eyes traced over Tak’s countenance, his slumped shoulders, tucked chin, arms hanging at his sides. He’d never get used to the way those words made him feel.

“UGH I can't be mad. There isn't anything to be mad about. I just want you to tell me if you don't feel safe or it there is something you need from me before we go places. I don't want to push you to be out everywhere we go but you do need to give me the heads up. I feel like an asshole for assuming without asking if we were out here,” Emory folded his arms across his chest but his eyes were soft.”I cant fight with you while you’re wearing a shark suit.”

“I want to be out here. There’s no reason to hide here. We aren’t even the only queers here. I want to show you off to people and make them hella jealous...I think being super stoned just made me paranoid. One toke over the line, man,” Tak shrugged.

Emory covered his mouth and his shoulders shook.

“What?” Tak crowded his eyebrows together.

Emory started to laugh behind his hand. “Its just that Im locked in closet with a giant in a shark suit, having a serious conversation about my relationship while Im dressed as a hedgehog, and Im super high.” He started to laugh harder, “You can’t make this shit up.”

Tak took a moment to view the situation from outside himself and yes, it was very, very hilarious. He began to giggle, then laugh, then gasp between bouts of belly laughs.

Emory watched Tak laughing and felt all warm and gooey in his chest. He want to kiss him, right now. He stepped closer, grabbing a fistful of shark suit in each hand and yanked Tak close. Tak’s laugh stopped but his smile went on for eons. Emory had the look. That look. Tak knew that he was going to do anything Emory asked when he saw that look. He leaned in to kiss Emory, one hand keeping his balance, which was intermittent right now, on a shelf. The other hand slipped into Emory’s hedgehog hood, and held the back of his neck. He could feel the heat coming off of Emory through their fuzzy suits as he pressed his body into Emory. Emory was avoiding his kiss, teasing him, making Tak chase his lips, snapping his teeth at him and smirking.

“Give me that!” Tak growled, pulling on Emory’s neck harder until his lips crashed into Emory’s. He felt Emory’s smirk fade under his own lips and his posture softened as he kissed Tak back with sensual and deep open mouth kisses, making Tak want to pitch himself into the abyss of Emory’s touch. After many moments, as kisses turned into lips on necks and ears and throats, Emory whispered into Tak’s ear,

“I really can’t wait to get you alone.”

Tak grinned. Emory knew all the buttons to push and Tak wondered how soon they could ditch this party. Tak’s hands wandered into his hood and into his hair. Emory could play cool, but not when Tak played with his hair, that was when he lost all thought being stealthy or tame. Emory’s eyes simmered and he flashed a grin before claiming Tak’s mouth again. Tak rested one long hand on Emory’s shoulder, the other in his hair, tugging close to the scalp, eliciting a rumble from Emory’s throat.

“More.” Emory demanded, digging his thumbs into Tak’s hip bones in an almost painful and insistent way. Tak pulled harder at his hair and Emory bit down viciously at his neck. Tak moaned and his head tipped back, making a loud noise when it landed on the shelf behind him. He heard someone tapping on the door, jiggling the handle. He didn't care.

“Fuck off!” he managed to shout to whomever was on the other side. The knocking stopped. “Goddamn Emory your mouth is going to kill me,” Tak murmured. Emory nipped again and pulled back to see the mark he had left on Tak’s neck, which was not discrete or small. He laughed louder than he expected to and jumped when another banging knock came from the door.

#AsBigAsTheSky #takashibennett #emorydelacruz #mlm #gaybook #gay #pansexual #mixed race

3 notes · View notes

worldofanime-imagines · 7 years

Note

may i request an scenario where guren and shinya can't find their lover and are very worried and when they finally find her they become romantic and then they have a night of passion, if it is not much trouble and thanks :)

Ok so I actually wrote way more than what was requested. I got so carried away ahhaha I’m so sorry it took so long! I’ve had a lot of stuff going on in my life. I really hope you like this!! Enjoy! (I’m probably going to do more editing later >

My Angel

Guren Ichinose x Reader

His whole world seemed to have crumbled once again when he had lost you. Watching you be dragged off by vampires was torture, yet he had been held back by his fellow soldiers because they thought it too dangerous. Not worth the risk, were the words muttered to give explanation why they had abandoned one of their own to the cruel hands of her blood thirsty captors. But you were, in his eyes worth every risk that could be taken. The others didn’t need to intervene and he would have gladly gone after you himself. The dark tone of Kureto rang through his head and brought rage into Guren’s violet eyes. “She is dead. Or will be. She is not important. Forget her” Kureto had spoken to him with such a cold monotone voice as he walked off. Not important: it made him sick to his stomach that anyone would speak of you that way. Life was precious, and most of all yours was to him. Kureto thought of others as fodder that could be manipulated and used until death. No one was a person to him but himself.

Guren had lost so much in his life and had made so many mistakes beyond numbers that could even be counted. But you were his biggest one in his mind, and in his heart. He could still hear the shrill cry of your voice in the night, crying out his name to save you.

“GUREN!!!!!!!!!”

It made him bolt upright in his bed every night, a cold sweat soaking his entire body and an icy chill shooting up his spine. It haunted him beyond measure and he hated himself for it. He had become weak. You had made him weak….was something that Kureto told him constantly. But he was oh so wrong. It was you that gave him the strength to go on. You motivated him, kept his hope alive where there was none. His light in the ever growing darkness of the world. Your light shone brightly like a beacon in the night, guiding him away from an endless dark void.

The man was stubborn, he wouldn’t give up on you yet. Not until he had proof that you were either dead….or alive. You wouldn’t have given up on him, so why should he give up on you when you had been his biggest cheerleader? The one who took him despite the burden of his past and the baggage that came with it. He needed to see your face once more, even if it just meant that he could mourn you. You deserved that much and more.

Countless nights he spent dreaming of you; seeing your face in clouded bright vision. Your smile, a soft slender hand out stretched towards him. A hand he could remember the feel of having in his broad calloused hand. Beauty against the rough.Perfect in every which way to him.

“I love you Guren”

He remembered your voice as if it were yesterday. At every given moment, you were open with your affections; never keeping it secret from him of how much you cared about him. But he was a stubborn fool who put off everything that was intimate. The navyette had had experiences of being manipulated and abused, and he had sheltered off his heart from the world. Yet you had torn down those walls, showed him he could be safe with you. Yet he hadn’t given you the same courtesy. He barely said that he loved you. Did he even say it out loud ever? He did love you, but he knew he had not said it enough.

He thought of what you might say to that. Probably along the lines of “You show you care in your own way. And I love that”. You had changed for him, yet he had not done right by you; at least that is what he thought.

He just hoped that it wasn’t too late…

In the months to come, so much had happened. Fighting against the vampires...and even infighting amongst the soldiers. It was a mess, and it only seemed like it would get worse with time.

But what he did not expect, was to find you. He had found you amongst a group of civilians who had been captured by the vampires. Your hair was matted with dirt, and your skin covered with all sorts of grime. You looked quite pale, dark circles under those bright eyes of yours. Though those eyes held much shadow and pain now. You were a lot thinner. Most likely from abuse and neglect from your captors.

That is when your eyes locked with his. In that moment there was unspoken communication of love, loss, pain and relief flooding through each other like an otherworldly connection. It was then that all the emotions seemed to come flowing out like a waterfall. Guren dropped to his knees in front of you, holding your face gingerly in his hands as if one false move and you would slip past his grasp. You smiled at him then, tears flowing down your soft cheeks. No matter how much filth you were covered in, you were still beautiful to him and in this moment he didn’t give a damned of who was watching. His lips found yours in a heated reunion. Warmth seemed to crawl back into your pale cheeks, spreading warmth throughout your weary bones.

You were home….

That night Guren never left your side for a moment. He had filled the bathtub with hot water and soap. When was the last time you had felt such warmth in your body? You couldn’t even remember...As you stepped into the water and sat into its warmth, an involuntary sigh escaped past your chapped lips. Guren slowly came in after you, pulling you close into his chest. His lips gently kissed along the curve of your shoulder. The moment was calming and relieving. He couldn’t believe that you were here now. He would never let you leave his side again.

Guren reached over without another word to get the washcloth, and gentle ran it along your arms to get the mud off it. You closed your eyes, revelling in the feeling of both washcloth and hands gently rubbing your skin. You felt safe for once in a long time. You put your head back as you felt his fingers scrubbing deep into your scalp with sweet smelling suds. “I missed you…” you said softly.

“I missed you too…” he let out as he continued to wash you. You could hear him sniffle slightly and then you thought you heard him say something quietly under his breath. “I’m sorry…”

For the rest of the time in the bath, he held you close to him, not letting you go until the water had pruned your fingers and feet. You swore you could could feel trickles of water fall onto your shoulder...

Now you stood in front of the bed, looking over the safe haven that the two of you shared all that time ago. It brought tears to your eyes thinking of how much time had passed since your capture. Your life had been a living hell, and some things you never thought you could get over. But with Guren’s help you would heal. For time heals all wounds....

Your arms crossed over your body, somewhat shielding yourself, your eyes closed shut. Yet in this moment of self conscious mind, gentle hands pried your arms away, and your left hand brought to the tender comfort of soft lips. “You are beautiful…” he said.

You turned around and looked up into his soft violet eyes. They watched you with such love and adoration, but also with sadness for the time together you both had lost. You could see how your disappearance had truly affected him. Your hand gently reached up and cupped his face, and he slowly leaned into it, closing his eyes.

“I love you Guren…” you said as his eyes opened up once again.

His lips found yours, claiming them with his in a heated passion and hands roaming your body in gentle and loving exploration. How he missed having you in his embrace. He would show you just how much he loved and missed you. You deserved to be treated like the angel you were. You were his angel.

He gently lay you back against the bed and climbed on top of you. You hair was splayed out on the pillow like a halo and your gentle eyes looked up at him. His eyes wandered along your body: from the curve of your neck, to the swell of your breasts and to the soft plane of your stomach. He adored every inch of you, and his lips travelled along your soft skin, leaving no bit untouched and ensuring you felt every bit of love he had to offer you.

The night was filled with lovers sighs as one another melded into one another. It was not just a mere sexual union, but a spiritual one as well. It was as if you both had become one in body and mind. Lips and legs tangled together, never leaving contact with one another.

“Guren…” you mewled softly as he filled you, completed you. Two halves of a whole.

As the night dragged on one sentence slipped passed the Lieutenant's’ lips that he had long since awaited to say.

“I love you…My angel…”

Never Again

Shinya x Reader

It had been a cold winter’s day when you had went missing. The snow blowing hard, cutting off most vision. Kureto had been stupid enough, or at least ruthless and careless enough to send soldiers out to search for a nearby sighting of vampires. But the thing was, there wasn’t any. Your limbs had been so cold, so stiff and you were starting to fall behind. You weren’t with your usual squad which meant you didn’t have anyone who would be willing to help you should you fall.

That is exactly what happened. You had fallen behind, and no one was coming back for you. Would anyone even come back for you after they found out you were missing? Shinya, you boyfriend would be incredibly worried, angry even. You could just see the look on his face when he found out you weren’t back. But a question still lingered: would you even make it until then? Your teeth were chattering, and your body hurting badly from the cold. You didn’t know what to do. You nose dripped, but quickly froze from the below 0 temperature. The most likely scenario would be you be freeze before anything. That is why you needed a place to huddle in, ruins, an abandoned building perhaps. Something stable and could at the very least protect you from the blistering winds.

But would you make it that far?

Back in Headquarters

A certain snowy haired man paced back and forth, his hands pulling at his hair in frustration. How could they just leave you behind like that? Yes, that was your job to go out, but it was also the job of the people with you to be your teammates.They failed that job when they left. On the orders of his brother. He gritted his teeth, so infuriated by this. Was this some sort of plan to show him who was in charge? That everyone’s lives depended on following him like a mindless drone? Shinya certainly got that impression. If it were up to him, he’d be out at this very moment, searching the very ends of the earth in this snow storm. What could he do? The snow seemed endless, and you could barely see through the storm. Kureto would never let him near any equipment that would aid him.

He thought of how scared you were, all alone in that frozen wasteland. The only comforting thought was that the vampires were most likely avoiding the storm as well, and wouldn’t be out looking for any stragglers. That comfort soon turned to fear once more, as he thought of the bitter cold that must be consuming your entire body by this point. If only he had been able to come with you on the expedition. You might be here in his arms rather than facing the cold alone. He had lost too much in his life, and he didn’t want to add you to his list. He couldn’t.

Letting out an angry roar, he threw the books that were on his desk aggressively against the front door just as it was opening. A familiar face appeared from behind it.

“What did the books do to you? Look at you wrong?” Guren smirked and ran his fingers through his navy hair and quickly closed the door behind him.

Shinya let out a huff “More like imagining they’re my brother…” he furrowed his eyebrows and sat back against his desk.

“So what? You just going to let him get away with that? Thought you were more creative than that” the navyette smirked and chuckled. He leaned up against the door crossing a leg over the other and his arms across his chest.

“I don’t...I don’t know how I would be able to get out there...I need to...but...How?? She’s out there because of me. I never should’ve let her out there!”

“You know (y/n), she wouldn’t have listened to you anyways. She’s stubborn. Like someone else I know”

Shinya ran his fingers through his hair “What do you want Guren…”

“Well I was just going to come here and you know...tell you that...Goshi has a couple skidoos and winter gear waiting...just sitting there...What you do with that information...that’s up to you…” Shinya’s ears seem to perk up at this new information.

“Wha--” the door shut just as he was about to say something.

This was his chance.

You leaned dug deep into a snowbank, creating an alcove close to the wall inside the abandoned building. Your teeth chattering and lips turning blue. You felt a slight difference inside of the alcove you had created, but the cold made your body weary. It felt like hours that you had been out here, but time wasn’t exactly on your mind and so trying to determine how long you’d been out here was impossible. If it weren’t for your snow suit, you’d have been dead by now. That didn’t mean it wasn’t cold as hell. It was certain that if you left this building you’d die, no question. You were protected from the chilling wind in the abandoned building. Your eyes had scanned around, but all the wood that you could’ve used for fire was too wet to burn. It was no use. What you needed to do was try your best to survive until the storm stopped, and make sure not to fall asleep. But that was not going to be an easy task…

Yet as the cold enveloped your body, you could hear something...skidoos? You furrowed your eyebrows and licked your chapped, frozen lips. Was someone out there? Or was it vampires? You weren’t sure what was worse, depending on who exactly was out there.

A voice called out your name, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Was that...No...It couldn’t be...Shinya? Were you hallucinating from the overwhelming cold? Had you fallen asleep and you didn’t even notice it?

No. This was real, and you crawled slowly to a hole to look out into the blizzard. You could barely see anything, but you could just barely make out a slight outline of two individuals. Your body shivered from the wind now blowing into your face. “Y/N!!!!” the voice called out to you.

“Shhinnn...Shin...ya!” you croaked out, but only a soft cracked voice came out.

“Shit! The snow...we aren’t going to be able to see her!” another voice called out, they were getting close now.

“There’s a ruined building up ahead! Maybe she made it there!” the other voice, presumably Shinya called out .

You had to do something now, you couldn’t have them pass you by. You’d die if you stayed out here any longer. You slowly, and painfully crawled out into the storm, your stomach flat against the ground. Your bones ached with each sudden movement, and your energy was draining. Your eyes dropped.

“Shin…” The sound of the skidoos became louder and louder, but your hearing started to have an echo and blackness started to invade your vision.

“Y/N! Oh god! Grab her!” were the last words you heard before passing out.

Your eyes were still shut, but you felt warmth within your body. Were you alive? Had Shinya really been there? Or was your body still out there, in the middle of the storm and wasting away? Your eyes fluttered open and were met with a familiar sight. Shinya’s room.

“Hey…” you heard a voice from your left and immediately turned towards it. Shinya.

His lips were in a soft frown and eyebrows furrowed. He looked so tired. “Y/N...I’m so sorry…” gentle words escaped past his lips.

You let out a cough, causing Shinya to immediately grab for the glass of water next to you and handing it to you. You smiled weakly before taking a sip of it, letting it seep down your throat to satiate the itch.

“Why are you sorry?”

“You wouldn’t have been out there in the first place if I had somehow gotten you out of the mission...You’ve been out for a whole day and...I wasn’t sure if we had made it to you time…” his hand gently caressed your cheek and he sighed. “ I should’ve known something would happen with Kureto in charge…”

It was your turn this time to frown. How could he possibly blame himself for this? This was not his fault, but that of Kureto. Shinya was innocent in all of this and it hurt your heart to see him beat himself over this. “How could you foresee something like this? This isn’t your fault...please don’t do this...I love you Shinya...You weren’t the one who did this. I don’t regret a minute of being with you…”

Shinya’s sky blue eyes averted to your face, gazing upon you softly. He stroked your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “My love...I...I’m so lucky to have you...you know that?” a smile then graced his face, and he leaned in to kiss your soft pink lips.

He moves closer to you, resting on top of you as you sink into the softness of the bed. His weight isn’t heavy, but moreso provides you with a familiar security that you always longed for.With gentle hand, you gracefully pull the shirt off of his sculpted body, running your hands along his delicate pale skin. Gentle kisses and soft caresses were exchanged in sweet bliss as well as lovers sighs filling the darkened night. A moment which neither one wished to end, yet with melancholic reality eventually did. But whatever happened next, the two of you knew that you’d be there for one another for as long as you lived.

35 notes · View notes