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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

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Broken Ribs- Prompt Fill

What if the Hunters broke Jon's ribs in America? In other words, Jon does not have fun on an airplane.

cws: nausea, injury, disassociation, hospital mention, fainting

I am still accepting bingo prompts, send me a prompt, a character, and let me know if you want a fic or a drawing (crossed out prompts are filled, starred ones are ones I have asks for)! Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! Enjoy!

The air of the airport is oppressive. Close and loud with the pain lancing through Jon’s chest. Bustling people, ridiculously wide expanses of space all somehow abandoned and bustling at the same time.

It’s hot. He’s too hot.

Shoulder straps of his bag digging into his back, bracing against the weight, crushing ribs that crunch sickeningly as he jogs on hole ridden legs, shoes with worn down soles skidding, only grasping purchase with the help of his cane.

He can’t miss his next plane. He can’t. He needs to get back home… or rather the Institute. He doesn’t really have a home anymore, does he? Not his flat, certainly, and not with Georgie.

Just one more flight. A long one, but at least there will be no more running to catch planes, inconveniently at opposite ends of massive American airports.

Airports are already weird, empty spaces where everything is big and loud and expensive and sleepy all at once. Places where time has no meaning at all, and everyone is in both business dress and pajamas, sometimes at the same time. But adding the whole American thing to it… is odd. It’s not that it makes that much of a difference, every airport is actually very similar, but there is still something about the tang of ‘Rugged American Individualism’ that makes his skin crawl.

Or maybe that’s the lack of sleep, and the lack of a proper shower in… too long. He hates this. He hates this. He can’t stand the feeling of grit on his skin…. not since Prentiss, not since the circus. Between traveling and being followed and kidnaped again and now traveling some more… he’s sweaty and grimy and he wants to tear his skin off, or at the very least scrub it raw. Cut his nails to the quick, wash his hair a dozen times, scrub himself again for an hour under as hot water as he can stand for as long as his useless legs will hold him up.

He gets to his gate as the plane is boarding. Barely in time.

They take his cane at the front and he wants to cry. Limping to his seat in the very back, vision getting spotty with pain. He Really should have someone look at his ribs, they haven’t been right since the kidnapping. Just the universe’s punching bag, isn’t he? Kicked in the ribs by hunters. He hadn't even Done anything. (Well... he has now, but he hadn't at that point!

He just about collapses in his seat.

Middle seat. Shit.

Christ he's dizzy. Wouldn't be surprised if he's running a fever from the pain. His body sending all sorts of signals of distress: thirsty, nauseous, tired, shaky, panicked that he needs something or he'll pass out or cry, or.... or... or.... he doesn't know.

There is a tap on his shoulder. Window seat passenger wants to get through. Jon carefully eases himself to his feet. Trying very hard not to wince, or puke, or pass out. He limps his way up just far enough that Window Seat can get through. Just.

His ribs crunch as he sits again. He tries to covertly wipe the thin sheet of sweat from his forehead. A poor effort to detract from the attention his pallor and limp are surely getting him.

He sits absolutely still. His nose itches, but no... moving to scratch it would hurt too much. He just... won't move. The whole flight, ideally. But surely his bladder and bad leg will have other ideas about that. Jon sighs as shallowly as possible. Breathing hurts.

He drifts out of consciousness for a while. Isle Seat arrives at some point. The plane starts taxiing. Jon doesn't remember the pieces, but they occur.

He does notice the plane taking off. The acceleration of the plane. The stomach dropping climb. And all Jon can think of is falling. Aching chest tighter with panic.

The smell of tea made too dark and with too much lemon. What would have been a pleasant and soothing voice if he hadn't been plummeting with the acceleration of -9.81 meters per second per second without even the comfort of air resistance. Oxygen moving by too fast to snag a breath. He could have been falling for seconds, minutes, days, weeks, years, and it would have made no difference. Hitting the ground would have even been a comfort at that point.

He's gasping. Chest crunching under the strain of his breathing through the vice grip of terror.

He orders himself to take a very shallow, very measured breath. The plane is leveling out, and he doesn't want to attract any more attention.

Luckily he has always been good about deflecting attention. Had a panic attack in the middle of a maths class in secondary school, and not a soul noticed. Window Seat is staring out the window in fascination as the houses get ever smaller and are eaten up by the cloud cover. Isle Seat is napping.

Jon is very very very glad that he hasn't run out of dramamine yet or ...he would be a lot more not okay than he already is. He is out of pain meds. Unfortunately.

Should have bought some in America. You can get big bottles there. Big bottles. And God knows he needs them.

He clasps his hands tightly and try to pull his breathing into a careful and shallow rhythm.

He is drifting again when Window Seat lowers their armrest. It strikes him on the way down. Brushes him, really. He bites down a yelp. He curls protectively around his ribs, which causes them to crunch again. That Really isn't healthy sounding. Spots dance across his vision again.

He isn't sure how much time passes before Window Seat makes to get up. He almost doesn't have the energy to stand.

He's seeing spots again, and he doesn't know how he will manage to let Window Seat back in.

The seat in front of him has lowered their seat. Jon, in the back row can't tilt his back. Christ it hurts. It all hurts. The turbulence, the standing and sitting for Window Seat, the drinks cart making far too many rounds. He doesn't get anything. Can't stomach the snacks or the provided dinner, barely manages a couple sips from his own water bottle. He knows his leg would thank him if he got up and moved around, but the thought of standing is too much. The movie that he tried to watch was too grating and it just added to how Loud the plane is. Almost as loud as his hammering heart and the aching of his chest. He can't do it. He can't do it. He can't do it.

He bites back a scream when Window Seat orders another drink. The flight attendant jostling his ribs again, passing over the beverage. This has to be the third or forth time. How many drinks can one passenger need? How many more before Window Seat will need the loo again, dragging Jon to his aching feet again?

Jon bites back tears. He was awoken by Window Seat again. He'd apparently fallen asleep on Isle Seat. ...Or maybe passed out. Jon doesn't know. He's too dizzy. He doesn't look at Isle Seat. He wants to apologize, but the thought of speaking sounds too painful. He clings to control of his breathing. Shallow breaths. Slow, shallow breaths. Don't make the ribs worse, don't make the pain worse.

Jon doesn't remember letting Window Seat back in. He possibly remembers standing? Possibly remembers black spots eating through his vision? And then he's face down on his grimy tray table. A face full of the novel he picked up in the airport on his trip Before getting his ribs busted. He's pretty sure he passed out and hand't fallen asleep, but he can't be certain.

The flight attendant is shaking him awake, and Jon tries to hide the tears of pain that causes. Yes, yes, he knows. Tray tables needs to be folded away before they land.

Getting off the plane is hard. Window Seat is anxiously out of their seat and getting their luggage, meaning that Jon has to decide if he would rather sit back down, only to have to stand again when the way was finally clear, or he'd have to stand without his cane , bent at an awkward angle. All after digging under his seat for his bag. He thinks keeping it under his seat is easier on his ribs than getting it into and out of the overhead compartment... but he doesn't know. He is fighting unconsciousness again.

The plane is too hot. Too loud. His head hurts. His ribs hurt. Sick with pain, and shaky with hungry and dehydration. He isn't sure that food wouldn't make him feel worse, however. He skipped provided breakfast as well.

At least he can't remember much of the flight. Probably a blessing.

He finally limps to the front of the plane. He almost cries with relief when he is handed back his cane. He's so tired. So tired.

At least he doesn't need to get any luggage. All he has is is backpack and cane. And a text from Elias saying Daisy is already there to pick him up.

Right.

Best not to keep her waiting.

He doesn't think he can survive any more aggression. Not for a while.

He's too tired to even panic about being alone with her.

She shakes him roughly when she spots him. Demands to know why it took him so long, why he didn't text. All but shoves him into the car. That's more than he can take. He passes out. Cane clattering to the pavement, head striking the wheel with the force of his momentum.

When he comes to, he is being carried. He hurts too badly to move, feels too sick to think. He moans into the chest of whoever is carrying him. Doesn't even have it in him to start in fear when he realizes the only one with biceps that big and fair is Daisy.

They are going down a flight of stairs. He wonders vaguely if she's going to kill him... but then realizes he might take that as a mercy right about now.

Except she doesn't kill him. She's taken him to the Archives. He can hear Martin.

"Daisy! Jon! Daisy, what did you do! What did you do to him?"

Him... Jon? He tries to ask what the fuss is about, but only manages another moan.

"I didn't break him. Your problem now." She grunts that out, and plops Jon into Martin's lap. At least he thinks... after he possibly blacks out again.

Martin is patting his face. Martin is patting his face. "Hey, Jon? Can you open your eyes for me?" Jon tries. And fails. Eyelids too heavy. "Jon, what's wrong?"

"Hurts," he whispers.

"Hurts where?" Martin is cupping his face. Jon starts crying.

He can't respond.

"Jon can I take you to hospital? Please?”

“Ribs..."

"Jon, please?"

Jon doesn't want to go to the hospital, he just wants to sleep. Possibly just sleep right there and never move again. Martin is warm and soft and smells nice and is quiet. But he doesn't have energy to argue. He makes a noncommittal sound. "Stay?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll call us a cab, yeah? Get you checked out, then... you could come to mine, if you like?"

Jon really doesn't have the energy to respond, so he just... gives it up and closes his eyes. Letting himself drift and not worry about getting carried. Maybe if he's lucky he'll either sleep or disassociate long enough that he doesn't have to actually think about the hospital. Maybe he'll come back to himself on Martin's couch. He even lets himself hope that maybe someone will take the initiative and clean him up first. The idea of other hands on him would ordinarily be horrifying, but he's just too tired to care. For now... he'll just sleep.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #fanficiton #cw nausea #cw fainting #cw hospital #cw injury #cw broken ribs #cane user jon #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #my writing #my words #fic #my art #whump

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shedobewritingalittle · 4 years

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Only Ones Who Know (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Four years before Steve showed up on the reader’s doorstep, she was waiting at the church for him to show up. (Read Part 1 right here)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Cursing? Someone gets punched in the face. Angst.

A/N: This is sort of a prequel to Do Me A Favour. I wanted to explore what had led to the reader’s decision to leave Steve. Hope you enjoy!

Four Years Ago

She should've known this day was going to be one of the worst days of her life as soon as it started. Y/N woke up that morning feeling sick to her stomach, barely making it to the toilet before the Chinese food that her and Natasha ate the night before decided to vacate her body via her mouth. Of course she knew it was pre-wedding jitters making her queasy. It was the fact that she was two months pregnant.

At first, Y/N had thought that her period was late due to the stress of the impending wedding. It wasn't until Natasha jokingly said that she should take a pregnancy test just to make sure did it dawn on Y/N that there might be a chance that she was pregnant. She was extremely shocked when those two little lines appeared on the piece of plastic and made Natasha buy fifty more in order to make sure that this wasn't a fluke. When each one came out positive, Y/N called new-parents Tony and Pepper, freaking out. Both of them and Natasha had to calm her down and tell her everything was fine before she was able to see any positives in the situation.

Y/N had wanted to tell Steve immediately. She knew that he wouldn't be mad, in fact he'd probably be over the moon. Every time he walked through their apartment door, it would be on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill out of her mouth, but then he'd be in a mood or he'd talk about his grief circle. Y/N would have to immediately force those words down and listen to everything he had to say. It's not that she didn't like listening to his problems. She was his fiancée and she'd always be there for him in anyway he needed. However, as the wedding drew nearer, Steve had stopped asking about her and grew distant. Even though they eat with each other and slept in the same bed, it felt like they were millions of miles apart. Y/N would just tell herself that after the wedding, everything would be okay once they said "I do".

Yet, as Natasha fretted around her, making sure her makeup was perfect and not a hair was out of place, Y/N couldn't push her worries away. She once again felt nauseous, but couldn't tell if it was morning sickness or her emotions causing it. Either way, she rubbed the skin where her thumb attached itself to the rest of her hand, trying to calm herself down just like her grandmother had taught her to.

"Hey, everything's going to be okay. In an hour, you're going to walk down that aisle and everything will just float away." Natasha told her, looking at the bride in the mirror. Y/N gave her friend a small smile as the ex-Russian spy's hands rested on her bare shoulders. It had taken Y/N weeks to find a dress that she liked, but God when she did-Y/N didn't even want to take the dress off.

"I know. I can't remember Pepper being this nervous, but then again I don't think I've ever seen her nervous." Y/N responds, her smile growing. Nat was just about to respond when someone knocked on the door. Y/N twisted in her seat as her maid of honor moved to open the door. Tony, Pepper, and sweet little Morgan were standing there, all dressed up and looking like a perfect family. Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to look like she's on the brink of a breakdown.

"Hey, you look great kid. White is definitely your color. Romanoff, can I borrow you for a sec?" Tony asks, his thumb motioning out of the room. Natasha nods, sending you a quick smile before she and Tony walk down the hall. Pepper walks into the room, nudging the door shut with her hip. Y/N smiles at the mother and daughter walking towards her.

"You look gorgeous, Y/N. Huh, doesn't your Auntie Y/N look pretty?" Pepper asks the babbling baby in her arms, who is already making grabby arms at you as the two of them walk further into the room. Y/N and Steve had chosen Morgan to be their flower girl and ring bearer (it's not like they knew anyone else with children), so the infant was dressed in a pretty little white dress with a navy blue ribbon tied around the middle.

"Thanks, Pepper and thank you for letting me have this little munchkin in my wedding. I think she's the cutest little flower girl I have ever seen." Y/N responds, her nervousness melting away as Morgan smiles at her. Pepper smiles, taking a seat in the small little chair that was in the corner of dressing room that the church they were in provided.

"No problem. You know Tony and I don't mind. How are you feeling?" She questions and Y/N swallows hard.

"I've already thrown up today, but I think that was because of the morning sickness. Is it normal to be this nervous?" The bride asks, trying to smooth out the tulle that makes up the skirt of the dress. Pepper gives her a kind smile, handing Morgan a teething toy.

"Of course it is. And it's only normal you're even more nervous because the baby. You're going to be okay, Y/N." Her words are sweet and almost motherly. Y/N relaxes her shoulders, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Images of a possible future appeared before her eyes-glimpses of a home in Brooklyn, her and Steve chasing after a couple of kids. It brought a small smile to Y/N's face.

"I'm going to tell him tonight. I-I have it all planned out Pep. I just hope he'll be happy." She announces, her hand slipping down to rest against the nonexistent bump. That's all she wants really-for Steve to be happy in general. Y/N hopes that the wedding and the news will just make him relax, make him focus a little more on her, just like he used to.

"Steve will be, I'm sure of it." Pepper replies and Y/N wishes she can believe those words, but her worries have already started gnawing at her stomach once more.

It was ten minutes before the wedding was supposed to start and Y/N was as ready as she'd ever be. Her hands were wrapped tight around the bouquet of white roses and white peonies, her knuckles turning white. She could hear guests were already inside of the church, talking amongst themselves. Natasha and Pepper were moving around her, both of the working on putting her veil into her hair.

"There we go-Perfect." Natasha announces, both of them taking a step back to admire their work. Y/N smiles, standing up in order to look at herself in the full length mirror. She wanted to cry at the sight. For the first time, everything felt perfect, like it was falling into place. Y/N had been worried over nothing.

"Oh my God." Y/N gasps softly, watery eyes glancing at Pepper and Nat, "Thank you two so much-."

The door opened and Tony and Rhodey stood in the doorway, eyes wide. They looked worried, which makes the smile on Y/N's face slip away. She has spoken too soon and she knew it.

"We have a problem." Tony quickly says, both men walking into the room and shutting the door behind them. Y/N's brows furrow together as Natasha mutters curses under her breath in Russian.

"What's going on?" The bride questions, looking from Tony and Rhodey to Natasha and then to Pepper, searching their solemn faces for an answer. The spy sighs, drawing Y/N's attention back to her.

"Y/N, we-we can't find Steve. He hasn't shown up and he isn't answering any calls." Natasha finally tells her, her voice gentle. Tears prick in Y/N's eyes, but she quickly blinks them away, not wanting to ruin her makeup. She wanted to question why she wasn't informed of this earlier, but she doesn't want to overthink the situation.

"No-No he's just running late. Maybe he's just stuck in traffic-Steve will be here." She replies, shaking her head as she wrings out her hands, "There is ten minutes still. He'll be here."

Y/N quickly moves to where her phone is charging, grabbing it. With shaky hands, she pulls up Steve's contact and hits the 'call' button. She raises the phone to her ear, setting her bouquet down carefully on the vanity. The call goes straight to voicemail, making her stomach fill with dread.

"H-Hey Rogers. I'm just wondering where you are. The wedding is in ten minutes and I-If you're just stuck in traffic, please let us know. Let me know. Alright. Uh, I love you. See you soon." Her voice is tightening with emotion that's she's desperately trying to shove down. Y/N sets the phone back on the vanity, trying to tell herself that Steve was going to show up soon.

The bride-to-be watched as the start time of the wedding rolled around. Pepper excused herself to go talk to the priest and explain the situation to him. Tony went to entertain the guests while Natasha left to hunt down Steve. Pepper returned to the room twenty minutes later, finding Y/N sitting up straight in the chair, texting Steve.

Where are you?

Steve, I'm getting worried.

Just answer my calls, please.

Please.

You're never late.

Is everything okay?

Twenty minutes turned into an hour. One hour into two. And two slipped into three.

By then, the guests had left. The priest returned to wherever he goes to when he isn't working. The flower girl had to be put down for a nap. Tony, Bruce, and Rhodey sat with Y/N in that little dressing room until Natasha came back. When she announced that she had found Steve and that he had been at his grief circle this whole time, Y/N finally left herself cry. Her throat felt like it was raw. She wanted to scream, break things, and curse the man she was supposed to marry, but she was in a church and she was raised better than that.

"Get out. Please, just get out." Y/N barely recognized her voice when the words came out of her mouth. It almost hurt too much to speak. Tony moved to speak, but she shook her head. Y/N snatched the veil out of her hair, ruining Natasha's work. Her voice still tiny as she continued, "Get. Out. All of you. Just get out."

Her teammates quickly got up, sending her empathetic looks before they filed out of the room, Natasha shutting the door behind her. Y/N finally let a sob out as she let her veil fall to the floor. She pulls and tears at her ivory dress, unable to have it on anymore. Y/N could care less about the lace and tulle that's tearing in her hands, ignoring how it floats gently to the floor.

Black colored tears are cutting through the makeup that Natasha spent too much time on as Y/N finally gets the dress off. She leaves it in a heap on the floor, sobs racking her body as she grabs her phone. Her fingers move without her having to tell them what to do.

Once again, she is sent to voicemail.

Rage fills her and she throws the phone to ground, the screen shattering upon impact. Y/N brings her white stiletto clad foot down into the phone repeatedly, forcing all of her weight on the poor phone until it stopped working. The bouquet went into the trash can, petals falling off with her rough movements, heels soon following.

Steve had decided not to show up, decided that he didn't want to get married anymore without letting her know. And he hadn't even bother to fucking call her. Y/N felt stupid, like she should have known that this was going to happen.

She couldn't do this anymore. Y/N knew that Steve was hurting, but God damn it he wasn't the only one. If she wasn't important in his mind-in his life, she knew that meant that baby inside of her wasn't going to be either. Y/N couldn't bear the thought of being a child into that environment and she most certainly could not return to Steve and pretend like nothing had happened. This was irredeemable and even though Y/N loved Steve with her entire being, she was tired of it all.

Y/N had to make a choice. For both her and her child's sake.

So she forced herself to stop sobbing for a moment as she put on the clothes she had arrived to the church in. Y/N carefully gathered her wedding dress and put it back in the garment bag, carefully adding the veil. She zipped it up and set it aside before picked up the destroyed cell phone and adding it to the overfilling small trash can, the ripped fabric joining the other items. It wasn't right to leave the room in such disarray.

Gathering her things, Y/N wiped her tears and made her escape out the back door. Her mood shifted, mindset changed. No longer was she focused on how her heart was aching in her chest, instead, Y/N focused on how she was going to make herself disappear. She was a skilled agent, trained by the best. If she wanted to, no one would ever find her or her child. It would be like she was disappeared off the face of the earth.

There was no use in crying over a man that had already made his choice. Steve made it clear that he didn't want a future with Y/N and she wasn't going to force one on him. He had made his choice and he couldn't be mad at her for making hers.

Tony Stark was furious as he pulled up in front of the Veteran's Hall that the Star Spangled idiot has been hosting his "grief counseling circles". How dare that fucking asshole leave poor little Y/N at the fucking altar. The best thing that had ever happened to Steve was asking Y/N to marry him and now he had fucking thrown it away. Tony barely bothered to shut off the car before he is climbing out of it and slamming the door shut behind him.

They all knew that Steve and Y/N had been having...issues. They might have not explicitly told their teammate they were having problems just because it was as clear as day. Before they were engaged, Steve had been distant. The remaining Avengers were surprised that he had proposed to Y/N, probably just as surprised as Y/N herself. They all had hoped for the best, hoped that this would bring the couple closer together. Natasha and Tony were the only cynical ones, bracing for the worst. Tony wanted to outright tell her to turn Steve down, but Pepper made him promise that he wouldn't. The billionaire knew that this whole situation was only going to end in heartbreak for Y/N, especially when she had told him and Pepper that she was pregnant. Tony was already incredibly protective of Y/N and it only increased with the news.

"Tony-Tony, what are you going to do?" Rhodey asks, clambering out of the car as fast as he can. He shuts the door, trying to catch up with the older man who is stalking towards the building.

"I'm just going to talk to him." Tony responds as his friend catches up to him. Rhodey was incredibly worried about this whole situation. Tony already wasn't Steve's biggest fan and to make this worse, Tony and Y/N had a close bond. They treated each other more like siblings rather than colleagues. Y/N was Morgan’s godmother. Hell, he was going to walk her down the aisle earlier today.

Key word: was.

Because of that, Rhodey was afraid he was going to be a witness to a murder. He could stop Tony before that happens, but Steve did deserve it.

"Tony, please. Why don't we go back to the church and make sure Y/N is okay, huh? She needs us, needs you." Rhodey is desperate as Tony rips the door open and steps inside. Rage is coming off of Tony in waves as he continues to walk down the hallway, practically vibrating with anger. People glanced at them as they walked past, murmuring to each other about who they had just passed by. Rhodey himself wanted to pummel Steve too, but Pepper was going to be pissed at him if he didn't at least try to stop Tony.

And then, they walked out into the room where the meeting was held, evident by the circle of metal folding chairs in the middle of the room. Steve was talking to some of the members of his little group as the nursed cups of stale coffee. Tony clenched and unclenched his fists, the tapping of his Italian leather shoes against the discolored linoleum drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Steve's eyes widen as Tony quickly crossed the room, Rhodey hot on his heels. Steve opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Because Tony's fist connected with his jaw. Hard.

"You're a fucking asshole, Rogers. A fucking asshole." Tony spat as Steve stumbled backward slightly, holding his face. The other people in the room quickly gathered their things and left, obviously not wanting to be in the middle of two Avengers fighting. Tony was still clenching his fists, debating whether or not to swing again.

"Y/N's the best fucking thing that's ever happened to you and you are a fucking idiot for throwing that away." He snaps, pointing a finger at Steve as Rhodey attempts to hold his best friend back. The color has drained from Steve's face and God, Rhodey wants to let Tony go so that Steve can get what he deserves.

But Tony shrugs his way out of Rhodey's hold, still glaring at the blonde man. He shakes his head and turns on his heel, walking away. Rhodey sends Steve a nasty look before following after his friend. The Captain is left with an aching jaw and a sinking feeling in his gut.

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#captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #chris evans x reader #captain america #chris evans #steve rogers

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daringyounggrayson · 4 years

Text

one step at a time

anonymous said: Here’s a prompt for you: “I could really use a cuddle” for Dick with either Bruce or Damian?

thanks for the prompt! this accidently turned into a short fic, whoops. I also included my headcanon that Dick’s early exposure to fear toxin caused some long-term health problems. all you really need to know, though, is that Dick experiences fear toxin symptoms on and off even without exposure, the antidote doesn’t work very well for him, the exposure damaged his lungs which can make it hard to breathe during an attack, and he uses an inhaler that has a variation of the antidote in it which helps to relieve his symptoms. Enjoy!

He’d seen him again. Bruce, last night. Of course, not really him. Because Bruce isn’t here so it couldn’t have even been him, but also not him, because his memory of Bruce had been warped by fear toxin. And now that the night was over, he was left to sift through the memories. They meant nothing, sure, but the thing about people is that they find meaning in anything, including nothing. Dick does it well, too; probably the only time he can call himself a spectacular person.

“Alfred?” Dick calls, voice scratchy. He must’ve been screaming, probably scared the crap out of Damian, even if the kid would never admit it. Which only makes Dick feel worse.

With no response, Dick sits up and carefully takes the IV out of his arm. He looks up to see if it was just fluids, or if the antidote kept wearing off and he’d needed to be on a drip. Both, it turns out. Fun.

“Master Dick, my apologies, I was with Master Damian,” Alfred says, hurrying over to Dick before he can get out of bed. He’s pushing Dick back, gathering supplies to set up what looks like a blood draw.

“Damian okay?” Dick asks.

“He’s well, albeit a little shaken.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“We’ll have none of that.” Alfred pulls Dick’s arm out and wraps a band around it, then he’s swabbing the crook of his arm with an alcohol swab and jabbing a needle into it. He takes the band off and lets the blood flow into the vial. “How are you feeling?”

Dick shrugs. “You know.” He’s been exposed to fear toxin so many times, and the early times, they hadn’t even had an effective treatment for it. Now, it seems the antidote doesn’t work on him as well as it does on the others, even Bruce. And an exposure always makes him feel sick the next day—chest tight, headache, kind of nauseous. Not to mention feeling jumpy and on edge. Alfred already knows all of this, though; voicing it would be redundant.

Read the rest on AO3 or below the cut!

“Perhaps you should rest a while longer,” Alfred suggests. “At least until your blood has been properly examined.”

“Sure,” Dick says, because really, he’s not feeling great. “But I want to check on Damian first.”

“Very well,” Alfred says, using his voice that says he doesn’t think it’s “very well” at all, actually. But he knows when not to push.

Dick makes his way upstairs, shaking ever so lightly from fatigue and residual fear. He hopes this doesn’t last long, but he knows it must’ve been a pretty bad hit. Maybe multiple hits. He’s surprised Damian wasn’t taken down too—or maybe he had been, but his immune system doesn’t have the same response as Dick’s, so he recovered quickly like everyone else seems to. He hopes it stays that way, and if Babs, Jason, Tim, Cass, and Steph are any indication, Damian should be fine.

Dick eventually reaches Damian’s door, and he raps it with his knuckles. He waits, and a moment later, Damian opens the door. He looks up at Dick, and something like relief flashes across his face before it’s replaced with a scowl. “Hey, kiddo. Just wanted to check in after last night. You holding up okay?”

“I don’t need your concern, Grayson,” Damian tells him. “Perhaps if you had taken more precautions last night, you would not be in your current state and Scarecrow would have been apprehended more efficiently.”

So not well, was the answer to his question. “Right then. Alfred checked you out and everything?”

“I was able to supply my own antidote in the field, and Pennyworth examined some follow-up blood work to ensure it had worked properly. Which it had. Due to my quick response, I never experienced its effects,” Damian says proudly. It’s kind of amazing; even with quick response, Dick can never avoid the effects of fear toxin completely. “I was also able to get you back to the car before you could make a fool of yourself in front of Commissioner Gordon.”

Dick closes his eyes for a moment, holding his tongue. “Thanks, Damian. I’m sorry you had to see me like that, but you did a good job last night. I’m proud of you.”

He can hear Bruce’s voice whispering in his ear again. He wants to groan; he hopes this is just a mild leftover effect and not a sign that he needs more antidote. The fear toxin is way worse, obviously, but being on a drip isn’t fun, and it comes with its own side-effects. His chest is feeling tight, though; maybe he should find one of his inhalers.

“Grayson?” Damian is asking, something fearful in his voice.

“Hmm?” Dick opens his eyes and realizes he’s slumped on the ground, hands pressed to his chest. “Oh.”

“I should get Pennyworth,” Damian decides, looking like he’s ready to run.

Dick shakes his head. “It will pass, just need a minute. ‘Sides, Alfred’s probably already on his way.”

“Is the toxin still in your system?” Damian asks instead, and Dick shakes his head, even though he doesn’t really know that for sure. “Pennyworth was telling me of your chronic health issues that have resulted from over-exposure at a young age. Is that . . ?” Why he feels like he’s been run over?

“Probably,” Dick answers, closing his eyes again. He wonders how much Alfred has told him. He should know, for safety reasons, but. It would be nice to have some control over this situation. “Can you get my inhaler for me?” Dick could get it, but Damian sounds so helpless right now—giving him something to do will be good for him. “It’s on my nightstand.”

“Very well, if that will help.”

Damian is fast, and he’s quiet while Dick takes the inhaler. He doesn’t know if he’s done this in front of Damian before; he’s needed to, but he’s always excused himself. Dick takes the puff and holds his breath; a few minutes later, his chest feels less tight and the whispers have settled.

“Thanks.”

“Master Dick?” Alfred calls, heading up the hallway toward him. “Are you quite alright?”

“He had an attack,” Damian says, tattles.

“It wasn’t an attack,” Dick says, because it wasn’t. Not really. “Just rough from last night. Did you check the bloodwork?”

“It looks clear. So as long as your symptoms remain mild, I do not feel the need to give you another dose,” Alfred tells him, and Dick relaxes. “Bed rest, however, continues to be recommended.”

This is something Alfred will push for, and Dick doesn’t want to be pushed, so he holds his hand out and lets Alfred help him up.

“Very good, sir,” Alfred praises him. “Master Damian, if you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

Alfred helps Dick get into bed, gets him settled, and hands him a pill. Then he disappears into the bathroom, returning with a cup of water.

“What’s this?” Dick asks, swallowing it with the proffered water before he gets an answer.

“Only some Tylenol,” he assures. “For the headache and chest pain.”

“Thanks,” Dick says, easing himself into the pillows. “Was it … it was bad last night?”

“You were having difficulty breathing when Master Damian brought you in,” Alfred tells him. “You required a breathing treatment followed by oxygen for a while, although neither were very effective until the antidote began to work. Master Damian seemed unsettled, so I thought it would be best for the two of us to have a conversation about your specific reactions to fear toxin.”

“How much did you tell him?” Dick asks, eyes closed and breathing already slowing.

“I didn’t go into too much detail, but I explained the cause”—over-exposure to and lack of treatment for fear toxin mixed with a developing brain and pair of lungs—“and how your symptoms come and go. He was confused as you had been exposed before and hadn’t reacted so severely, so we discussed how this can be unpredictable and is often influenced by other factors. Including variation in dosages and time before treatment.”

Nothing new to Dick, but for a ten-year-old who had no warning, it could be a lot. Even if that ten-year-old was Damian.

“Hmm,” Dick chooses as a response. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Alfred tells him, resting a hand on top of his head. “Sleep well, and do call if you need me.”

And Dick sleeps.

oOo

The nightmares come and go. It’s not the toxin, but his brain is always like this after an exposure—even if it hasn’t been this bad in a while. Years, even.

Dick finds himself in a confusing cycle of waking and falling asleep, unsure of where he is and what’s real. He remembers Alfred, finding him in the hall and herding him back to bed, pressing an inhaler into his palm. Had he been sleepwalking? Had Alfred checked him for a fever? He felt cold, maybe they were chills. Maybe he was actually sick.

The next lucid moment, he found himself feeling the urge to run away. From what, he couldn’t remember, but the nightmare had been clear once. He was at least certain that the only place he wanted to run to was Bruce, but he wasn’t here, and the dream told him he was also part of the monster. But that couldn’t be right, because Bruce could never be a monster. He fought monsters, and he won.

“Grayson?” Damian is shaking him awake. It had been a dream, then. But. He was in the hallway? Had he run away? “Grayson, it was just a dream, you’re alright.”

Bruce had said those words to him. Not exactly, but close. And Dick had said them to Damian—it hadn’t been fear toxin that had caused that first nightmare, it had been after Bruce, and after Tim left.

“I’m, I’m,” Dick mumbles, unable to control his tongue.

“You’re outside father’s room,” Damian tells him calmly. He sounds like he’s following a script; Alfred had probably told him how to handle Dick like this. “You are having a flare-up. Do you require your inhaler?”

“I’m fine,” Dick says. And he thinks it’s true. “You can, I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Nonsense. It is Robin’s job to look out for Batman, isn’t it?” Damian asks, and Dick nods. “Then as Robin, leaving you now would be a dishonorable act.”

Dick hums, unable to argue and unsure how or even if he should. It’s hard to think like this; he doesn’t feel like himself.

“Do you require assistance to get back to bed?” Damian asks.

Dick stands, and Damian slides his arm around Dick’s waist. Dick knows he could manage on his own, but he’s dizzy. It’s nice not to have to stumble and fall all the way back to his room.

Damian only lets go of him when Dick’s sitting back in bed. He hesitates, watching Dick cautiously. Dick is feeling tired again, too tired to figure out what Damian needs. Maybe a dismissal? Could be, but Dick should probably thank him instead. This is a big step for Damian, trying to take care of Dick, showing that he cares about Dick. He remembers the first time he was sick since Damian came to live with him, and he had been quite the opposite of kind and understanding back then.

“You’re shaking,” Damian says. “Is that? Or perhaps you are not in the proper state to discuss this.” More script, Dick guesses.

“It’s okay,” Dick assures him; he’s happy to answer the question, happier that Damian feels comfortable asking. “But yeah. I think it’s just the adrenaline.”

“I see.”

A long pause, and Dick can feel himself swaying where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He wishes Damian would spit it out, or leave if he wasn’t going to. Dick really needs to lie down.

“I am aware that you are very … tactile, and I have read that pressure can help ease anxiety,” Damian starts cautiously. “Do you think that would help you?”

For a moment, Dick forgets how terrible he feels and he can’t help but grin up at Damian. “Are you asking me if I want to cuddle?”

Damian scowls at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do not be childish, Grayson. I am merely suggesting what the experts have found to be effective, especially for people such as yourself. I would rather let you recover in your own time, but Batman and Robin are needed, and—“

“Damian,” Dick cuts him off. “I could really use a cuddle. Or whatever you want to call it.”

Damian scoffs at him, but then he wraps his arms around Dick. Dick hugs him back, squeezing him tightly. It does help Dick feel better, and he hopes Damian is sharing some of this relief. After all, they’ve both had a rough night.

#dick grayson #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #nightwing #robin #batman #batfamily #toxin damage #elizabeth writes #alright now i'm going to bed ✌️

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angstyaches · 4 years

Text

Hunger

I couldn’t pick a better title, but here’s some Shayne and Charlie goodness, Charlie Two intrusion, nausea and hunger followed by fluff and comfort, bit of Shayne’s childhood, Shayne’s disordered eating, Charlie’s Feelings™. Hopefully it comes together somewhat coherently. The hunger/comfort aspects were definitely encouraged by @trashytums and their recent posts, so I can’t not mention that.

CW: nausea, emeto (well, gagging), hunger, saliva (only a bit), mild horror elements, disordered eating, reference to unhealthy parental relationship, food. (Let me know if I ever miss something.)

Swallow the World: The Ouija Board, Pt. 6

Charlie paused in the upstairs bathroom on his way to his wardrobe, seeing stars over the toilet bowl, retching like something really wanted out of him. His headache was clearing a bit, now that there was some distance between him and the Ouija board, but those black eyes kept hovering in front of his eyes, keeping him dizzy and nauseous.

He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and his stomach was starting to ache with the effort of trying to bring up nothing. Charlie retched as he thought of Shayne putting himself through this for days, or however long he did. Charlie didn’t know. Charlie hadn’t thought to ask.

Charlie gagged again before dragging himself to his feet and grabbing onto the sink. He stared into the mirror, waiting for his head to clear. He felt hot and clammy in his hoodie, yet his body was trembling all over.

After looking for too long without blinking, it looked like a deep, shadowy chasm was opening up under his left eye, his skin turning transparent to reveal dark blue veins that ran in a spiral pattern across his cheekbone. Above his eyebrow, his skull seemed to adapt a new shape, curving up and out of his skin.

He lifted a finger to touch the side of his head, to convince himself that strange deformity wasn’t really there. It wasn’t; all he felt was his normal, human skin, but he also realised that his left hand had taken on that waxy, swirling look too.

The left side of his face began to smile at him.

Hi.

Charlie gasped, closing his eyes for a moment before daring to take another look. Everything seemed back to normal, but he was still shaking as he left the sink, turning at the door to go to his bedroom.

He stood there for a moment, swaying a little on his feet.

What did I come in here for again? Right.

Charlie pulled out a pair of soft tracksuit bottoms that he rarely ever wore, thinking that if they were too big for Felix’s waist, he could just pull them tighter with the cord. His legs shook as he went back downstairs, wishing he didn’t need to go back to Elliott’s car, back to where the board was.

“Hey, Charlie?” Rin called from the sitting room.

What now? Charlie shuddered with dread in the hallway and diverted his route, finding her crouched on the carpeted floor while Shayne lay curled up on his side of the sofa, knees almost to his head.

“What happened?”

“Oh, nothing.” Rin looked over. “He just keeps asking for you.”

“What? Really?” Charlie didn’t know whether to be happy or scared. He wanted to know what was going on with his friend, of course, but that didn’t mean he felt qualified to try to deal with it right now.

Rin nodded as she stood up, putting out a hand. “I’ll take those to Felix and then head home. Are you going to be okay? I can stay if you need me to.”

“Honestly,” Charlie said shakily as he handed over the tracksuit bottoms. “I’d really appreciate it if you could just get that damn Ouija board from Felix and drive it far away from me. It’s making Charlie Two – it’s making me feel… just horrible. Like my body’s fighting against itself.”

“Okay,” Rin frowned, examining Charlie’s face quickly. For an instant, he panicked that she could see the details of the demon he’d seen in the mirror, but then he realised she was just concerned about him looking pale and sick, which he most definitely did. “I’ll keep the board at my house, and we can decide what to do with it later. Call me if you need anything. I’ll come right back.”

Charlie pulled her in for a quick hug before she headed for the front door. He clung to the doorframe to the sitting room, watching in almost agony as Shayne tried to curl even further into himself.

“I heard you summoned me,” Charlie said, crossing the room to crouch by the sofa, near Shayne’s head. He’d expected his eyes to be closed, but instead they were glossed over and still. He didn’t even blink as Charlie waved a hand in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, letting that hand rest on top of Shayne’s. “What do you need me for?”

Shayne let their fingers interlock, just like they had for most of the car ride home. He drew Charlie’s hand closer to his chin, his stare growing even glassier. He started to open his mouth, widening his jaw with a crack. Fear trickled through Charlie’s stomach and he almost gagged again as he realised what was happening.

He’d given him his left hand; the hand that wasn’t entirely his.

Shayne’s eyes fell shut. He drew the joint of Charlie’s thumb into his mouth, closing his teeth over the skin that stretched between Charlie’s thumb and forefinger. The bite was gentle at first but slowly grew more firm as his jaws clenched visibly.

“Sh-Shayne?” Charlie whimpered.

But Shayne remained just like that, not biting any harder but not letting go either. His eyes closed a little more tightly, saliva pooling between his tongue and Charlie’s flesh. His other hand was pressed against his belly, fingers curling harshly into his t-shirt.

Though his heart pounded, Charlie was kept still by the maddening thought that maybe, maybe he’d allow Shayne to rip him to pieces if that was what he needed to do. It didn’t mean anything except that he must have been so, so hungry.

“It’s okay,” Charlie whispered. “It’s okay.”

With his eyes still shut, Shayne frowned. It seemed to take some effort for him to unclamp his jaw and remove his teeth from Charlie’s skin, and when he did, he shoved Charlie’s hand away and scrambled up into a sitting position. He tried to push himself further back on the sofa, drawing his arms up to cover his head without ever opening his eyes.

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charlie gasped, rising from the floor and sitting next to Shayne. He’d hoped Shayne would sink against him like he had in the car, but instead he flinched like he wanted to get away, twisting his fingers into his hair.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he sobbed from beneath his arms.

“You won’t.” Charlie pressed his forehead against Shayne’s neck and slid a hand towards his knee. “I know you won’t. You almost did, but you stopped.”

There was a beat of silence before Shayne’s stomach growled. He winced and tried to curl up tighter and shake Charlie off, but Charlie just nuzzled his head against Shayne’s and stroked his leg until the sound tapered off and he stopped tensing quite so hard.

“How long’s it been since you’ve eaten?” Charlie asked, his voice pinched. In the past, he’d felt comforted listening to the sounds Shayne’s stomach made, but this was different.

“Last demon,” Shayne mumbled, “was Tuesday.”

“I don’t mean demons; I mean food.”

Shayne shifted a little lower in the sofa, drawing his legs a little further from his torso. His gaze went distant again, but he let out a little sigh as Charlie ran his hand across his stomach.

“Shayne, answer me,” Charlie whispered.

“I – I don’t – maybe a week. Could be longer.”

Charlie swallowed and tried to stay calm. “I know you don’t like being offered food, but I’ve got to make dinner for myself anyway.”

“Charlie –”

“I know it’s hard for you, but I’ll feel so much better if you eat something.” Charlie rubbed slowly up and down Shayne’s belly. From the way he’d been clutching it earlier, and the look on his face now, it must have been killing him.

Shayne hesitated, watching the motion of Charlie’s hand. They both felt his abdominal muscles tighten and cramp a second before another whine of hunger rang out. This time Charlie felt it through his palm, and Shayne leaned his head a little harder against Charlie’s instead of trying to push him away.

“Please, eat with me?”

Shayne swallowed audibly, his body tensing again. “Okay.”

Charlie made Shayne some weak tea first, filling the mug halfway with boiled water and topping it up with cool water from the sink. He sat with him on the sofa as he sipped it, hoping it wouldn’t upset his stomach.

“Feeling okay?” he asked as he finally took the empty mug back. Shayne nodded, and Charlie felt relief for the first time since the afternoon.

He went back to the kitchen and boiled the kettle again, deciding to make some mugs of instant soup and defrost some bread in the microwave. He didn’t feel like eating anything too heavy either, not after being so nauseated in the car for so long. When everything was almost ready, he went to get Shayne from the sofa and bring him to the kitchen table.

Charlie had expected Shayne to try to eat too fast, and was ready to jump in and tell him to slow down before he made himself sick. Instead, he watched in distress as Shayne took slow sips of soup, breaking off the tiniest pieces of bread before bringing them to his lips. He never opened his mouth until he was just about to put something inside. At first, Charlie assumed he was just feeling self-conscious because of his hang-up about accepting help, and he tried not to read into it; but the longer it went on, the more it looked like Shayne was convinced that eating was a test, and that someone was going to give him an evaluation when he’d finished.

He wanted to ask what the hell his foster parents had done to make him act like that, but it seemed like a question for a different time, when things weren’t already so heavy.

“What’s your favourite food?” he asked instead.

Shayne jumped a little, frowning across the table like talking over food wasn’t something he’d even considered possible.

“I – I don’t know?” he replied, almost defensively.

Charlie blinked. How could he just not know?

“Why, what’s yours?”

“Roast chicken and gravy, with my mum’s mashed potatoes. She makes it nearly every Sunday.” Charlie picked up a third slice of warmed bread, wondering with a pang of guilt why he’d never thought to invite Shayne over on Sundays.

“My mum used to make tarts.”

“Oh, yeah?” Charlie smiled. “What kind?”

Shayne shrugged, but not in the heavy way he usually did. He glanced towards the kitchen window. “There used to be a gooseberry bush in the back garden here, and an apple tree. Sometimes we’d go blackberry picking.”

Charlie glanced towards the window too, wondering what had happened to the bush and the tree after the house had been sold.

“She’d let me stand with her in the kitchen and ask me to taste the fruit before putting it in the pastry, to make sure it wasn’t too bitter.” Shayne met Charlie’s gaze, but just for a second. “She didn’t have a sense of taste, because she didn’t need human food. I think the Devines thought I’d be... more like her.”

Charlie realised Shayne was taking a long break between bits of bread, and was idly turning his spoon in his mug as he spoke. Shayne realised Charlie was watching him, and he made a little flustered noise in his throat.

“It’s okay if you’re finished for now,” Charlie said. “Don’t force yourself if it’s going to make you feel sick.”

Shayne blinked like he’d just heard something surprising.

“When you’re hungry again, I’ll make you something else,” Charlie promised. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night, okay?”

Again, Shayne looked surprised, and Charlie couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s up with you?”

“It’s just – you’ve been putting up with me all day,” Shayne mumbled. “Didn’t think you’d want me staying over.”

“You seriously thought I’d send you back to the vamps after the day you’ve had?” Charlie asked. “And I haven’t been putting up with you; I’ve been looking after you. That’s what people do when they care about each other.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

Charlie shook his head as he picked up the mugs and plates from the table. “And when people care enough about each other, no one has to say sorry for stuff like that.”

He turned towards the kitchen sink, turning on the tap to rinse the dishes. His eyes kept getting pulled up towards the window, towards his own eerily translucent reflection in the dark of early nightfall. He shuddered every time he felt that pull, carefully avoiding eye contact with himself for fear of what would look back at him.

You didn’t do anything, Charlie couldn’t stop himself from thinking. You gave me absolute hell over the Ouija board, but when we could have been devoured, you didn’t do anything.

Neither did you.

Charlie frowned, slowly looking up at the glass. Both his eyes looked dark and obscure in the reflection, but he could once again see that strange protrusion above his left eyebrow, and that knowing half-smile.

Do… Charlie’s breath felt like it had been stolen. Do you love him, too?

“Hey, Charlie?”

Charlie gulped and turned around to see that Shayne had folded his arms and put his head down on the table, like he often did at his desk at school. That either meant he was tired, or his stomach was hurting.

“Are you okay?” Charlie walked over and put a hand across Shayne’s back. “Ready to go lie back down? Bed, or sofa?”

“I don’t mind where, but...” Shayne gave a small groan. “Can you rub my stomach again?”

Charlie swallowed hard again, afraid that his heart was about to slip up his throat and escape through his mouth.

“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you need.”

#shayne #charlie #shayne and charlie #swallow the world #my ocs #halloween #ouija board #hurt and comfort #hunger #nausea #tw hunger #tw nausea #tw disordered eating #horror elements #horror #tw horror #belly rubs #stomach growl

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Ablaze - aka Obi-Wan learns the truth about what happened to Anakin post Mustafar Oneshot

Whatever Obi-Wan had hoped for, it wasn’t this.

He had been convinced when he turned his back on his past, tears blurring his vision as he left Anakin - his brother - behind by the molten lava lake of Mustafar, that that would be the end of it. He had known the twins once born must be hidden, concealed from the Empire and Palpatine. He had held them in his arms, as he watched Padmé’s life leave tear filled her eyes. As he watched her succumb to a broken heart, as her time ran out.

Obi-Wan had hoped that in spite of everything Anakin had done, every deed committed out of some sort of misplaced idea of justice to save his wife, he’d have passed on to find peace. There was the guilt, crippling and heart wrenching as it weighed heavy on his shoulders, looming over him every waking moment. Like a phantom, he wandered lost with only one purpose. One foot on the ground, one already in the grave as he watched over Luke faithfully. It was his only mission, as heeded the Lars’ warnings of not coming too close. Of not getting to know Luke personally. He watched as the boy grew to resemble his father more with each day, bringing back still painful memories of Anakin as a padawan, of Anakin questioning him, initiating arguments yet always returning for comfort and solace.

He had prayed that, much as it had destroyed him, Anakin was finally free from the demons that had plagued him so.

Anakin; who had been lured and manipulated into becoming a disciple of the Dark Side. Anakin; who had always been good, and kind, and just. Anakin; who loved so deeply, so truly that he stifled the air in Obi-Wan’s lungs. His brother, his son, his best friend - all in one. Anakin; whose final resting place lay among ashes, fire and brimstone. Obi-Wan considered it his cross to bear, and perhaps one day, he might have the courage to tell Luke the truth. Once Luke was old enough to understand, and to feign for himself. With the truth, danger would be sure to follow. The eyes of Emperor Palpatine were everywhere.

He had been wrong.

The first time caught wind of rumours regarding some mysterious empirical Enforcer cloaked in black, purging the remaining Jedi from the Galaxy on behalf of the Emperor - he felt sick to the stomach. Nauseous and dazed, losing focus the world became a blur as he casually continued to eavesdrop. He'd caught whiff of the grim news by accident from some bounty hunters normally located off planet, on one of his rare trips to the Cantina of Mos Eisley. At first, he told himself he must have misheard them. But the more he listened, the more he heard, the further the claws of dread sank into him. Suffocating him.

A menace clad all in black, face concealed. A Force wielder, one of the bounty hunters had professed. The other denied the existence of such a thing, but did affirm she too had heard some tall tales from a couple of drunk Imperial cadets, matching the description.

A regular smuggler was quick to chime in, in a foreboding low voice, that speaking of the devil might as well conjure him forward. Obi-Wan should have asked, then. But he couldn’t bear it. He’d prefer being unwise, uncertain as to the identity of this cloaked assassin. Deliberately ignorant by omission. Still, a voice at the back of his mind screamed at him to trust his gut feeling.

So, for a few more months, he buried it. He ignored the inquisitive part of himself, the one wanting desperately to pry and find out more. The one wanting to either reaffirm, or deny, what he was already suspecting. Eventually it got the upper hand. Hood pulled over his head, one night he surrendered to the urge. Travelling by land speeder with the intentions of visiting that same Cantina, back to the same area.

While it was not likely he’d be approaching the same crowd - bounty hunters never stayed long without Jabba the Hutt personally acquiescing - there might be other visitors willing to share their knowledge. Or perhaps suitable victim to coax information out of, via mind control. Against better judgment, Obi Wan found himself considering kidnapping, or at the very least stunning an unsuspecting stormtrooper, simply to pull the soldier away from public eyes for interrogation.

As luck would have it, he needn’t have worried. Ears perked, senses keenly attuned to his surroundings, he was quick to pick up on a rushed, impatient tone. There was a note of distress, of distinct dread radiating from the person speaking. Letting the Force guide him, Obi-Wan found himself drawing near to a small, scrappy docking area on the outskirts of the small city. Three ships anchored neatly aligned, all in beat up condition from bad to worse. The vessels would fly, but not much more. Pacing back and forth by the cargo holder of a battered YT-freighter, was a young twi’lek male. Lekku twitching, sharpened teeth bared. His company consisted only of a human woman, who looked about the same age but less antsy.

“How can you be so sure he won’t find us?”

“Because rumour has it this planet is off his radar,” said the woman, with clear disinterest. “We’ll have time to repair the ships. Turk'll gather up some credits, and then we'll go undercover. The Empi--”

“We’re not talking about the Empire, Oma!” hissed the twi’lek, and Obi-Wan felt the tension of anticipation pouring into his bones, as he pressed his back closely to the wreckage of what was once another clay building.

“It’s all the same, he is no different. He can’t be everywhere at once, surely he must have more important clientele to keep up with. We’re only possible associates at best, and even then he has no evidence.”

“You don’t understand!” the twi’lek raised his voice, before catching himself. "He doesn't need a justifiable reason to give chase!"

In an instant, the man's wide eyed stare darted madly around the location. Obi-Wan waited patiently, seeking aid from the Force to remain unseen and concealed. He had perfected the expert craft of hiding his Force signature, all to stay alert out of sight and mind from the Empire. For four years, it had worked to his favour. Still, he pulled his robes tight around himself, nodding in greeting as a random stranger - a Rodian - passed by in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan was considering wiping the encounter from her memory, but the woman disappeared into the night and it seemed an unnecessary endeavour.

With a hushed tone, the twi’lek piped up again as he inched closer to Oma, his female companion.

“He knows we aided that young Jedi. He knows we docked on I’qka, we’re in the Imperial records. The kid told us himself he was being hunted! Don’t you figure if there’s a kid on a planet that rarely ever receives visits from outside travelers, and this kid disappears with the one ship that has been knowingly recorded, that’s going to raise suspicion?”

“Which is why we’re going to make repairs only on The Japor, and trade this ship in for something more inconspicuous,” said Oma, still as unbothered as before. “You think too much about it, if anyone’s gonna raise suspicion, it’s you with your fidgeting. Pretend you never met the kid, and it’s gonna work out a hell of a lot better for us.”

“No one’s gonna want this junkyard of a ship,” the twi’lek huffed, glancing with a doubtful expression back at their vessel.

“There’s a constant demand for functioning scrap parts here, we’re gonna make a fortune if we pick it apart. Might even trade some parts off to the Jawas. You get in their good graces, and they’ll find you whatever you need.”

“Better be. I just don’t understand… aren’t you afraid of him?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I’m afraid or not, what matters is that we keep running. It’s only a problem if he catches us, and as long as we’re one step ahead, he’s no threat.”

Oma sounded calm and collected, but Obi-Wan could sense a fleeting tinge of dread through the living Force of her bloodstream. He could sense her palpitated heartbeats, sense her shortness of breath. He must condone their bravery however; hiding and assisting a Jedi fugitive under the Empire’s nose was high treason, punishable only by death penalty. Helping a Jedi was just as bad as being one, and the two must have been aware of that when they decided to act out of compassion. He couldn’t do much to aid their flight or ensure their safety, given the risk of blowing his own cover and subsequently Luke’s, but he was going to ask the Force be with and guide them. He hoped it’d be enough. Perhaps the Jedi was someone he knew, so he would wish him too a safe haven.

“So, we just keep running forever and hope he never catches us?”

The twi’lek sounded dejected, his lekku twitching in distress as he padded over to slump down to sit on the lowered landing pad. Obi-Wan felt his sadness as clearly as were it his own, even as Oma placed a hand on his shoulder to offer what appeared to be a supportive squeeze.

“Isn’t that what we do best? Let’s just hope the kid will get by and find a safe place to stay. That would make it all worth it, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but if… if he comes after us, at least we’ll know he probably hasn’t found the kid. He’d need us alive, right?”

“Right,” Oma nodded, although that possibility didn’t seem to particularly put her at ease.

Obi-Wan sighed softly.

If the rumours of the Empire’s treatment of traitors was anything to go by, he’d presume a swift death was to prefer. More than one person had whispered of torture, and torment to force an approved testimony out of prisoners. It was frightening, how low the morals of those in power had stooped in such a short amount of time, since the fall of the Galactic Republic.

He had fought bravely in The Clone Wars for freedom, for justice. Was this his reward? Was this what the Jedi and their troops had laid down their lives to preserve? Then, on the other hand, Anakin too had been adamant to protect freedom. Had been adamant to end slavery, never able to overcome his own traumatic childhood raised on this burning sand planet as a slave to Watto. Mournfully, Obi-Wan regretted that he had never taken the time to speak about that experience in depth with Anakin. Regretted that he had not trusted Anakin’s visions of Shmi’s death. Perhaps, if his mother had lived, he would have resisted Palpatine’s lure.

It all came back to Anakin.

Every waking moment, Obi-Wan's mind would wander aimlessly until memories of familiar, mischievous blue eyes flashed before his inner vision. When he slept; nightmares of Mustafar, the stench of burning flesh and shrieks of anguish haunted him. Pleas for help, begging for him to come back. Begging him to stay. Every time, Obi-Wan tried to will himself to stay. Longing to turn back around, to hurry to Anakin’s side. To hold him in his arms, as they both perished in a burst of flames and embers. Instead, he had no control of his own limbs as he walked away. The sound of Anakin’s pained howls, and the gurgling noise that replaced them as the heat withered away his esophagus ringing in his ears.

“Are you afraid?”

Obi-Wan startled, at first convinced that the voice had spoken directly to him. He blinked his eyes, looking up only to realize it was Oma who had broken the silence. The twi’lek craned his neck to glance up at her, her dark eyes unreadable in the distant light spilling out of the freighter they called home. The twi’lek exhaled heavily; only to offer a sharp nod, eyes once more scanning their surroundings as if he’d been reminded of their vulnerable state.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“If he was so intent on killing a kid, what’s to say he’d hesitate to kill us just out of spite? I...” he paused momentarily, tone almost inaudible as he spoke again and if Obi-Wan hadn’t been so attuned to their conversation, he would have missed it.” I know people opposed to the Empire. They’re… attempting to align. To form some sort of resistance. Either way, a childhood friend of mine, M’naaka, works in close contact with their organizations.”

Oma only nodded to confirm she was listening, but he expression spoke of curiosity. It was clear she had never heard of this before.

“So, M’naaka has never met him directly, but--” the young twi’lek’s head shot up abruptly, his entire body strung out like a prey animal sensing the close proximity of a predator.

When nothing happened, no ambush forthcoming - Oma herself beginning to look increasingly uneasy - he settled back down into his tale.

“But she’s heard from her companions. They say that if Vader’s got reason to keep you in his sight, you’ve already lost.”

‘Henceforth, you shall be down as Darth… Vader.’

No.

“Vader has bigger problems to cater to, if what you’re telling me about your friend’s contacts is true.”

Vader.

The name left Obi-Wan cold - the same sickness of that first mention of an assassin of the Empire cloaked in shadow had brought forth. The nausea returning, head spinning. He had pleaded with Master Yoda years ago, as they rid the ransacked and destroyed Jedi Temple of clone intruders, pressing that he must watch the holographic surveillance recordings. That he must see who had massacred their peers; the people he had grown up with, the only family he had ever known. The only life he knew, laid to waste. Children chopped to pieces, young men and women cut down in their prime. Whoever he had imagined to be the perpetrator, it was not Anakin.

Even now, he couldn’t believe Anakin could be capable of such vile acts. Yet, the holograms didn’t lie.

Now the sinking feeling Obi-Wan had experienced in that horrifying moment - as he'd watched Anakin kneel obediently before the now revealed true identity of Sith Lord, Darth Sidious - had returned tenfold. The sorrow.

He'd watched Anakin take on the mantle of Darth Vader; apprentice and second in command only to Palpatine himself. He'd watched all his hopes for his former padawan as a young Jedi crumble to ashes, scattered to the wind. Molding to become one with the sand dunes of Tatooine nightfall as he was brought back to present day. The bitter cold of the air was matched only by the block of ice forming in his chest cavity. He shut his eyes, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

The memory was still fresh, still vivid and tangible. Anakin, body set ablaze. Eyes a sickly yellow; bloodshot and animalistic as he poured the full intensity of his rage, his hate, his fear into the already heavy, charged air of Mustafar. His clothes, his hair, his skin aflame. Obi-Wan could not bear to watch the man he had loved as his own brother succumb. He abandoned him. Had left it up to the Force. He had assumed that the Force would take pity on Anakin - the man who was supposed to be The Chosen One - despite the monster he had become.

There were so many question, nothing made sense anymore.

How?

How had Anakin lived? Why? What must he look like? What agony must he be in? How might anyone survive being set afire? Obi-Wan had assumed that Maul was alone in his conviction, his ability to feed off of the Dark Side to sustain himself despite his mortal wounds. Had Anakin relied on similar tactics? Where was he now? Was there anything left of the man Obi Wan had raised and mentored? Did he know where to find his former master? Was he coming for him?

Vader. Of course.

Who else would be so consumed by spite, as to hunt innocent Jedi children to purge? Who else could be so petty, so insidious, so self absorbed? Anakin had been good, at heart. He’d been flawed, he’d been human. He’d been lying, he’d bent the rules, he’d become too attached. But he’d been well meaning, he’d been gentle and loyal and caring.

The shadow that had taken his place seemed to feed off of death, as if the blood on his hands made no difference to him. And why would it? Obi-Wan had seen the children lying lifeless on the cold stone floors of the Temple halls. In that moment, he had known there was no saving Anakin. He had refused to kill Anakin, had been adamant Master Yoda go in his stead. Anything at all, but that. In the end, he was left with no choice. Left with a naive belief, that maybe he could help Padmé bring Anakin back to sanity. Help him see reason. In the end, it was all for naught. In the end, Padmé faded away to become one with the Force. Leaving behind Anakin's estranged children; children he must never be made aware of.

Anakin died that day.

The Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan had known, burned to dust upon shores of ash. The man reemerging in his place was changed; twisted, evil and unrecognizable. The man who had taken his place was but a pawn of the Emperor, serving his master’s bidding at his beck and call as a slave. There could be no other explanation. The man in Anakin's place had nothing left to live for, no one left to save.

Why hadn’t Anakin told him about Padmé? He must have known it was an open secret. He must have known Obi-Wan had already suspected it for several years. How could he hesitate? How could he stubbornly go on, wrestling in silence with his own fears and the expectations placed upon him by outside forces? How could he find Palpatine a better confidant?

Padmé had died, and Anakin with her. And with Anakin’s death followed a part of Obi-Wan.

As he swallowed down the stone cold terror of truth welling up in his chest, biting back an inexplicable urge to weep over the pitiful fate that had befallen his brother in arms - Obi-Wan somehow found enough strength for his legs to carry him back to his land speeder. Enough energy to take him home; home to safety and solace, where he may still serve his purpose of guiding and watching over Luke.

A man like Vader would not hesitate to twist Anakin’s son into something as cruel, and vicious, and unyielding as himself. But despite the fact that Obi-Wan refused to acknowledge Vader as Anakin, refused to believe Anakin had ever possessed the ability to overstep the line so grievously - deep down, in his heart, he knew it was a poor man's comfort. But if he dared set it the truth free, dared allow himself to dwell upon it, he feared he too would lose his mind.

Deep down, he knew that the love he had harbored for the boy had never been enough. It seemed, he had never really known Anakin at all.

------------

I always did want to write something like this, a piece where Obi Wan tackles the realization that Anakin is still alive under the mantle of Darth Vader. Here's my take, until canon inevitably offers us an official version, of a possible look at that. I had fun writing Obi Wan though, and his denial of Anakin's true self as a juxtaposition to Ahsoka's acceptance of the truth.

If you ship Obikin, you can always look at it that way too. It is written to be canon compliant, however!

Enjoy!

Link below to the Ao3 post, and subsequently my account:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636756

Lose Companion to Lifeline:

https://stuffilikeipostno2.tumblr.com/post/634787175881474048/lifeline-ahsoka-reaching-out-for-anakin-post

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578304

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wispy-writer · 3 years

Text

Hideyoshi bathes a sick mc

Mai wasn’t sure when she first started feeling ill but when she began doing her nightly routine of doing some embroidery before going to sleep when she felt a wave of nausea overcome her body. She barely had time to roll over before dinner came out the way it came in. She was sharing the futon with Hideyoshi when this happened, he was asleep before but upon hearing his lover becoming sick he sat up quickly. Though not in time to prevent dinner from ending up in her hair.

Gently he patted her back in an attempt to soothe Mai “how long have you been feeling ill?”

After wiping her mouth Mai looked at Hideyoshi, who could now see that her skin looked flushed and the usual sparkle to her eyes was absent tonight. “I don’t know, I just felt nauseous all of a sudden. I suppose I felt warm earlier but I didn’t think anything of it.”

Grabbing a handkerchief from his bedside table Hideyoshi handed it to her so that she could wipe her mouth better. “Stay here, I will get a servant to draw a bathe for you.” He would have done it himself but he didn’t want to spend a second away from Mai if he didn’t have to. He cursed himself silently for not noticing her being sick earlier. Then again if Mai didn’t know then how would he?

While Hideyoshi left to get a servant to draw a bath for Mai, she went ahead and cleaned the floor up. She didn’t want to subject someone to having to see her vomit. By the time she was done Hideyoshi returned to see Mai standing up. He rushed to her side and gently got her to sit back down, clearly his motherly instincts having kicked in. He kissed the top of her head and smiled warmly at her, though his concern showed in both his actions and his eyes.

“I want you to take it easy tomorrow, don’t worry about doing any cleaning. I will try to clear my schedule as much as possible so that way I can take care of you.”

Mai wasn’t exactly a workaholic, but she did tend to push herself and so did her lover, but she couldnt say no to those eyes of his. “I will try to take it easy tomorrow so that you don’t worry too much.” Even while sick Mai showed concern for Hideyoshi, that compassion for others was one of the reasons he fell in love with her.

A few minutes went by and a servant knocked on the door and spoke loud enough for the two inside to hear, “the bath is ready.” Not wanting to interrupt them further the servant hurried away. Mai had won over the hearts of the castle servants, so when word spread amongst the servants that she was ill they all formulated plans for doing something special during the day to help her feel better.

Guiding Mai to the bath Hideyoshi helped her undress herself, though he was surprised to see that she was suddenly rather self conscious and didn’t want his help undressing Redrawing his help he looked at her with concern, though when he went to speak she had already begun. “I wish you didn’t have to see me sick like this, I know you’ve seen me sick before but isn’t it kind of disgusting to see me with vomit in my hair.”

Hideyoshi gave Mai one of his smiles that warmed her heart like the sun against frost in the late winter mornings. “I love you Mai, I love you when you are healthy and your skin glows. I love you when you can’t sleep and get grumpy. I love you when your stomach growls and it sounds like a bear. I love you Mai, I love you all the time. Even when you are sick.” Ending this heart warming speech with a hug he helps her undress and get into the bath.

He helped wash the vomit out of her hair before washing it with a liquid mixture that Mai called shampoo and humming a small tune to distract Mai from her sudden illness. “I hope you get to feeling well soon, but if you want to look at the bright side of things it means I get to dote on you even more than I usually do.” Knowing how overbearing he could sometimes get when ‘doting’ on her Mai chuckled. It seemed she want going to be leaving her bed tomorrow, and probably the day after that too.

When the bath was done and Mai was in bed again Hideyoshi offered to brush her hair, not wanting to upset him Mai accepted. “Perhaps I should let you dote on me more often, this feels great.”

With a chuckle and a kiss on the cheek Hideyoshi agreed, “you really should. You work so hard around her. You are the glue that holds this place together.” Passing the brush through her hair again he was certain he had gotten all the tangles out. “You have such soft hair. Do you want me to braid it so that it doesn’t get tangled?”

Mai was surprised that Hideyoshi knew how to braid hair but she didn’t give it much thought. “I would love it if you did, it means a lot to me that you are doing this.” She barely had gotten the words out of her mouth when Hideyoshi began braiding her hair. He wasn’t a master at it, evident by the occasional tug here and there resulting in an ouch from Mai, but he was trying his best.

Hideyoshi finished the braid and kissed his lover on the cheek “do you want to try going back to sleep again or do you not feel up to it?” A quick yawn answered his question and he covered them both up. Hugging her close to his body. As they both drifted away to dreamland their dreams were not that dissimilar, both dreamed of each other as the night turned to day.

~~~~~~~~~

That concludes my first ever fanfic for Ikémen sengoku, I really enjoyed writing this piece. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. To tell you the truth, Hideyoshi was the first character I decided to romance in Ikemen sengoku. I loved the part where he took care of Mai when she was sick.

This one shot is 1,010 words long!

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku requests #ikemen sengoku fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfic requests #fanfic ikemen sengoku #ikemensengoku fanfic #ikemensengoku requests #ikemen #ikemen sengoku sick mc #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #hideyoshi

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goatbi · 4 years

Note

Babe i demand more gordon bubby momence in the mer au actually . when ur not busy KFJDKDJ (have i sent one like this already. I feel like i might have i just think it's fun 2 see these two get close :])

“God fucking dammit.” Bubby muttered, the light from his lure suddenly going dark as he covered in, crossing his arms and pouting. So, maybe, he wasn’t the best at hunting fish. It had really only been a few weeks since he made the shift, and he had just gotten used to the swimming part of it, much to Benrey’s enjoyment.

Humans swam with their arms, okay? So Bubby had to get used to being able to only use his tail-which was an adjustment all on it’s own-to move through the water. At first, it put him squarely in the same category of movement as Forzen, who really... didn’t. It took nearly a week, at least after the pain of the shift from human to mer wore off, for him to be able to move up a bit, more of just a weak swimmer, rather than nearly unable at all.

And that stung his pride a bit. Bubby was willing to admit to that, at least to himself. So, of course, he made a stupid decision, which led to him having decided the next thing he was gonna eat, he was going to get himself.

That was yesterday.

To say there was a learning curve here would be an understatement. Bubby first had spent time trying to figure out how his light worked, how to cover it when he didn’t need it, and, once he had figured that out, he figured the rest would come easy enough, like all the random instinctual things that did come with the shift. None of which he expected to be things, like the fins on his arms and back flaring or flattening with emotions, and god, wasn’t that just a bitch? That people could see when he was upset?

Sure it helped in the long run, but Bubby was still stuck in the mindset of ‘hide your emotions, no one actually cares’ so it was a bit embarrassing at the very least.

As was this. This inability to do something that every single one of the group, even Forzen, had made look so simple. To be fair to him, Forzen ate microorganisms, so it wasn’t like he was having trouble. Everyone else? Made it look so easy. They all had their things though, their own tactics, and, as much as Bubby wished he could figure this out easier, it just... wasn’t working.

He wasn’t fast enough, or the fish he was trying to nab were too fast, or-

“Bubby?” He flipped around in the water, getting him off kilter for a moment, fins flared, teeth bared for a split second in surprise, before relaxing again just as quickly when he was it was Gordon. He glanced towards Gordon’s tail for Joshua, as he usually would, but didn’t see the blob fish around, and thus kept his light covered. Joshua loved the damn thing, which was fine, if only that helped him hunt at all.

It took him a second to realize that Gordon had continued that statement, that the words had not ended with just his name, and Bubby blinked at him, trying to pretend that, no, his own inadequacy with the life he chose wasn’t bothering him. They had had this conversation before, after all, and really, it was only a matter of time before they got annoyed with him. “What was that?”

“Coomer said that he hadn’t seen you eat today.” Gordon was holding something, and Bubby, despite being hungry, felt that overshadowed with despair. Of course they noticed. Of course they didn’t think he could handle himself. Whatever hunger he might have felt disappeared in that moment, just leaving him feeling nauseous.

“Not hungry.” Which, now, was the truth. He turned away from Gordon, trying to keep the presence of mind to keep his fins tucked up against himself, but even then, Gordon seemed to know. Not to mention that he was faster than Bubby, probably always would be, even when Bubby managed to get stronger. So, despite the obvious dismissal and escape attempt, Gordon followed, but didn’t cut him off, instead keeping time with him as Bubby moved to go back to his den, shared with Harold, of course, but at least it held some level of privacy.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a lie, Bubby.” A quick glance towards his arms showed he had failed his mission of keeping them unmoving, and Bubby huffed a sigh, flicking his tail a little harder than before, propelling himself a bit further than Gordon. There was a hint there, to just drop the conversation, but Gordon either didn’t notice it, or purposefully ignored it. Probably the second one, if Bubby understood anything about Gordon at this point. Bastard didn’t drop anything.

Harold said it connected to Gordon seeing himself as the leader of the school, protector if nothing else. Bubby saw it as annoying during these times, when he just wanted to be left alone to brood over his own failures. He didn’t answer Gordon, of course. It wasn’t needed. Gordon knew he was lying, and any other attempts would only make it more obvious to him. Bubby couldn’t lie well to this group, despite his years of lying to Black Mesa.

Somehow they just... saw right through him.

Bubby liked to think that had something to do with Black Mesa, that they couldn’t see the obvious right in front of them.

Still. Would have been helpful if he could lie to them at all.

“Come on, Bubby, you need to eat. You can’t just waste away.” With that, Bubby huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a bit unstable, as he hadn’t gotten used to moving them in motion and not titling one way or the other-which apparently was something he needed to work on. Which was stupid-so he did tilt just a bit. He managed to right himself, however, still keeping his arms over his chest.

“And I will. I’m not just gonna starve myself, it’s a painful way to die.” Gordon didn’t comment on how Bubby knew that.

“Then eat.” Gordon held out a fish, and Bubby just got angry. It was stupid, Gordon was just trying to help him, and yet, Bubby couldn’t help but feel like... they were babying him. And while, yes, he couldn’t take good care of himself at the moment, proven by his failed hunting attempt that Gordon had stumbled upon, it still stung. He was an adult. He should be able to do this.

“Fuck off, Gordon.” He snarled, rather than voice any of that. He couldn’t get away from Gordon, Bubby knew that far too well, but still could out maneuver him, if just barely, and thus, ducked up Gordon’s tail, and, when Gordon turned to follow, flipped above him, and continued on, fast as he could, for as long as he could.

Which was long. His tail already hurt. Still, he was able to have a few moments of peace before Gordon managed to untangle himself and follow. “Bubby!”

“I said fuck off!” And Bubby was yanked to a stop, pulled back to Gordon by his tail. He snarled at him, flicking it out of Gordon’s grasp, which meant he must have dropped the fish to do so. So Gordon was more worried about his anger than food. Good. If Bubby could just get back to the den, it would be fine. Gordon couldn’t keep bothering him if he was hidden in there.

Harold could. But that was a risk Bubby was willing to take.

“What is your issue dude?” Bubby refused to answer, eyes darting around as he tried to figure a way to dodge around Gordon this time. Gordon must have seen it, known what was coming, as he grabbed one of Bubby’s elbows, keeping him there. Bubby bared his teeth at him, but Gordon just did it back, and Bubby, on pure instinct, shrunk back, eyes darting away from him.

Gordon didn’t like being seen as scary. There were very few exceptions to this rule, and even fewer when he made himself scary to them. The only conclusion that Bubby could draw was that he had pissed off Gordon, and sure, that was going to happen, but must have seriously pissed him off. It wasn’t his goal. God, he just fucked this all up didn’t he?”

“Bubby.” He kept his eyes pointed away, frowning. Gordon sighed softly. “Listen. I get it, you’re struggling, but you have to let us help you-”

“It’s not fucking helping.” Bubby tugged at his arm, but didn’t yank it away, Gordon’s claws a bit too dangerous for him to do that. “You’re babying me, that’s what you’re fucking doing. I get that I’m, I’m new? To all of this? But that doesn’t mean that I’m not a fully grown man. I don’t like having to sit there and watch everyone else be able to take care of themselves, and instead of helping me, or, or teaching me, you just act like I’ll never be able to do it.” Gordon’s hand slipped off of Bubby’s arm in shock, and he flipped in the water, making one last dive towards the den.

This time, Gordon didn’t stop him.

-------------------------------------------------

Bubby didn’t try again the next day. He let Harold bring him food, ate it despite the fact that he felt sick, and smiled, as Harold beamed. He didn’t leave the den, however. He just... wasn’t feeling up to it. Bubby knew that it would worry them more, but Harold could report he was fine.

At least, when Harold peeked in to see him, he acted fine.

Harold was sleeping, when Bubby wiggled free from his grasp, and swam out. He knew, from their schedule, they would be asleep, giving him ample time to try again. After all, there was still no progress to people teaching him anything. He had to figure it out himself.

Behind him, as he struggled his way through the dark waters, a dark shadow followed him through the water.

Bubby settled in a spot, closing his eyes, the light flicking on. He had kept it covered for the past day, and it was half a relief to free it again, letting it shine through the dark water, but not enough. He had learned before his face was just out of the light, that it was long enough that they couldn’t see him in the light.

And he waited.

Despite what it seemed, Bubby was very good at being patient. He had spent a good long while sitting in his tube silently, watching and waiting for scientists to surround him, poke at him and hurt him. He was very good at sitting in silence, waiting and watching. This hunting style fit him rather well, waiting for fish to come into the light, around him.

It was a near unnatural stillness for a living creature, but Bubby was a statue, and, if anyone looked at him, his breathing was the only thing that signified his living status.

The only problem with that, is when he moved, no matter how slowly, whatever gathered around him jerked back, and fled. He growled softly, then shifted slightly, popping his arms and moving back to settle in his position, when a dark shape caught his eye. Fins flared for a moment, before they went flat, and he bared his teeth at Gordon. “What.”

“You’re giving them a chance to get away. You need to be fast about it. If you move, they’ll flee.” Bubby stared at him quietly, before sighing, shaking his head a bit, light jerking around, and Gordon shifted back, flipping through the water away from Bubby, until he was once again just a dark shadow in the corner of Bubby’s vision, and he went still once more, quiet.

As soon as there was another fish slipping through to his light, Bubby snatched at it, managing to get a hand around it, claws sinking underneath it’s scales, and it twitched in his hand in dying throes as Bubby stared at it in shock.

He... hadn’t expected that to work. Not completely. He blinked a few times, then looked towards the dark shadow that was Gordon, and his light was covered again, letting his eyes readjust to the dark, and saw Gordon grinning.

It wasn’t... the best. Bubby was already used to eating raw food, another thing no one asked about, so when he did eat it, he didn’t shudder at the feeling of it like they had expected the first time when he ate raw fish. Again. Not the best, but even then. He had done it himself this time.

Gordon led him back. Bubby was quiet the entire time, as he followed, frowning to himself. Gordon knew he came out of the den to do this, to try, and Bubby sighed lowly, shaking his head. They stopped outside the den, and, when Bubby went to duck in, Gordon stopped him.

“When I first lost my arm, I had to relearn how to hunt. I don’t know why I didn’t realize what this was. They did the same thing to me, rather than teach me, and I did the same thing you did, run off to try and learn myself. It doesn’t help that I didn’t realize, but... if you need help, I’m here.”

Bubby sighed softly, then, before talking himself out of it, ducked into Gordon’s chest, hugging him carefully, before ducking away from him and ducking into the den quietly, curling up against Harold’s side. There was a moment, where Gordon’s shadow stayed floating outside, before he turned, disappearing into the water.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #hlvrai mermaid au #bubby #gordon freeman hlvrai #Feelings In Various Ways

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quidfree · 3 years

Note

For prompts: any OCs, maybe something like fake relationship? Sorry if you don’t have OCs I’m curiois

i have so many ocs for my original projects that narrowing it down for this was a nightmare buuut here we are anyhow- something v short and dumb

“i just don’t see why van and viv couldn’t have done this,” joa says for about the thousandth time when they get there, aware that he’s been stuck on this refrain since two weeks ago and that his partner is near his boiling point but entirely unable to stop complaining. it’s like something in him thinks if he just points it out one more time someone will take notice and put an end to it.

“van and vivienne could have done this,” ezra says, in the voice he uses when he thinks he’s being extremely patient and long-suffering. “but this was your mission, and if you would have preferred to be here with fucking corlett it is not too late for me to trade places.”

“dude,” joa says. ezra shoots him a look.

“you can’t call me dude. we’re madly in love, if you’ll recollect.”

ezra is funny like that; the pissier he gets the more clipped his vowels get, like those rich new england types that had sometimes swung through california on holidays, all east coast condescension. privately joa thinks ezra has more in common with that crowd than he’d care to admit.

“dude, even if we were really-” he waves his hand vaguely “-i’d still call you dude.”

“you call your girlfriends dude?” ezra inquires, shrewdly.

“thought the whole point was the not being a girl thing.”

“corlett,” ezra threatens, so he shuts up. normally ezra wouldn’t do that to him, or at least would never concede defeat, but when ezra’s really angry there’s no scruples to his revenge plans. as much as he feels ready to drink himself sick with nerves and discomfort at the two of them crashing this stupid wedding, having corlett on his arm instead would ensure he died of liver failure before the bride even hit the aisle.

he doesn’t like how antsy this has made him. ezra doesn’t say it but it’s obvious he thinks joa takes some issue with the gay thing, which isn’t true- he’s normally the most adaptable of them to whatever era they get stuck into; he was the first to know about van, and that’s a whole different ballpark. it’s not the couple he cares about, it’s the acting.

all the lying, sneaking bits of the job- subterfuge, vivi would say- he gets it, but he doesn’t like it. even when it’s shit he knows, is good at, like charming strangers or blending into groups, he feels bad for the people he involves. he knows it’s stupid- it’s not like he’s usually hurting anyone, and the whole point is that they’re helping. van finds the whole exercise fun, and vivienne thrives in it; even ezra, who never does anything but play himself, commits to the bit unflinchingly. he’s the only one who gets nauseous each time they make him do some extended charade. he doesn’t know why they couldn’t just go around killing people without lying about it to boot.

normally ezra knows this kind of thing about him, but if ezra has one fault it’s that thing about missing the forest for the trees. when he’s prickly about something he loses his usual invasive-cum-insightful observational skills. that this particular bout of acting is making him more nauseous than usual is neither here nor there.

despite what viv claims, joa is not entirely convinced that ezra can’t read minds, because just as he thinks this, his hand is grabbed with all of the affection of a snake winding around his arm to cut his circulation off.

“c’mon, suck it up.”

he only just manages to turn his wince into a half-assed grimace, which earns him a foul look.

“i can’t feel my hand.”

“shut up and look like you love me, bride number one is heading this way.”

she is, inexplicably, looking delectable in a pearly white gown, blonde hair piled in curls atop her head. once their presence registers she smiles at them distractedly, eyes scanning them without recognition. it kicks him into work-mode, smile blooming wide and familiar as he extricates his hand from ezra’s to clasp hers.

“miriam! i’m joa, elena’s cousin- tia grassi’s son? and this is my partner ezra. it’s so nice to meet you, you look beautiful.”

“oh, joa, of course,” miriam says, warmly, relaxing as she gestures them in. “it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

“i’m surprised they have you manning the door,” ezra comments, gesturing to the entrance they’re stood under. “thought that was what the guys in suits were for.”

“sure, sure,” miriam laughs, self-effacingly. “i’m not really playing valet. it’s just we’ve been waiting on the last cake delivery and i’m trying to get the guy through to the back before anyone accidentally tells elena. she’s convinced something’s going to go wrong.”

“sounds familiar,” joa says, with a knowing smile towards ezra, who just about curbs his eyeroll. “also sounds like something you shouldn’t be worrying about on your wedding day. where should we direct him?”

miriam’s brows raise in surprise; he tries to broadcast sincere helpfulness her way.

“oh- really? you’d do that?”

“of course. i know how elena gets.”

this sells it; she sighs a little in relief, shakes her head. “you’re a savior. the hall, through the back- it’s just down the ramp and to the left. are you sure?”

“what’s family for?”

only once she’s out of earshot does ezra shoot him a look, eyebrows quirked with amusement.

“what’s family for?”

“fuck you, it worked.”

“your customer service act gives me the hives,” ezra says, although he’s smiling even as he reclaims his hand in an only marginally less painful grip. joa’s stomach re-knots itself.

for all that he hates the lying the job involves, there’s something especially discomfiting about roles like these- ones where they keep their names intact, where the stories they construct keep big chunks of their lives unaltered. to the wedding guests they’re still joa and ezra, longtime friends and constantly travelling free-lancers; they may not be time-travellers and there may be some additional intimacy implied, but this joa and ezra have the same back and forth, the same inside jokes, the same dynamic. it makes the lines even blurrier and the lies even more uncomfortable.

“you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“maybe i am.”

“you’re not. you’re a consummate professional and there’s an agency supervising us and also if you do i’m throwing your mini-fridge out of a window.”

“you wouldn’t like me sober.”

“you wouldn’t like anything sober. i’d tough it out.”

“remind me not to ask you to host my bachelor party.”

“i hate weddings,” ezra says, sourly. joa grins, heartened by his bad mood. viv calls them bad friends for always cheering up at each other’s misery. van calls them disgusting.

“hey, c’mon. this might be fun.”

“oh, sure. i love spending an entire evening pretending to care about two strangers’ impending divorce.”

“oh, c’mon. what about your moms?”

“they’re divorce lawyers. they’re outliers.”

"okay,” joa draws out, just to make him scoff. “themed missions, though. exploding wedding cake? that’s fun.”

“it’s also one of fifteen assassination attempts we’re handling tonight.”

“glass half full, honey.”

ezra flushes an unflattering but extremely charming shade of splotchy red. “half full of arsenic, if case files are to be believed.”

joa sighs, rocking back onto his heels. “talk about cliché, dude. even the cake bomb is more original.”

“messy, though.”

“hey, you love buttercream icing.”

“not mingled with my intestines, i don’t.”

“here comes the truck. are we doing salt lake city sixty five?”

“you read my mind,” ezra agrees, smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “you want the driver?”

so maybe this whole thing won’t entirely suck, joa thinks, smiling back. when ezra’s distracted his hand’s not even that bad to hold.

by the time the afterparty is in full swing, he’s kind of having a good time. foiling assassination attempts always puts him in a good mood, and the service was nice, for what it’s worth- he’d wondered how it would work with two women, but it was sweet in the end, just a couple of tweaks to the sermon and a lot more bridesmaids. he’d cried. ezra had hidden a laugh and complained at length about christianity. dinner had been nice too, although he’d had to eat in quick bursts what with the constant leaving to go thwart ploys to kill the bride. they’d done it under the guise of sneaking out for quickies, an excuse which had earned them surprising amounts of goodwill at their table. gay weddings, and all that.

regardless, they’ve handled attempts numbers one through fourteen and he’s feeling good. the work balances out the awkwardness- sure, he gets queasy when ezra is calmly explaining their meet-cute to strangers, but five minutes later he’s holding a stall door shut while ezra knocks someone’s face into a toilet and it calms his nerves. besides, whoever organised the wedding decided on an open bar for the night, and he’s been downing his fair share of drinks while ezra’s back is turned, which has pushed him into bright magnanimity. ezra will cover for him if he overdoes it, anyways- he still owes him for how coked out he got at that disco in the seventies.

ezra has launched into a spirited debate of twenty-thirties midwestern politics with some elderly relative; he sips his rum and coke, tuning out the familiar fast-paced scratchy speech to gaze around the room. the music is nice, for the era. so are the brides, currently waltzing merrily around the room and blissfully unaware that this night’s happy ending will set into motion a series of events leading to the discovery of the cure for cancer, or that someone with a penchant for theme has employed fifteen different mediocre hitmen to stop that from happening.

the little themed cocktail umbrella would make a sweet addition to his collection of mementos. as he twirls it he thinks that he was expecting this to be harder, or worse, the whole couples pretence. really dating ezra has just been the exact same as not dating ezra, with some additional niceties thrown in for their audience’s sake. he doesn’t mind the niceties- ezra’s hard to be nice to on the regular, so it’s neat to have him cornered, and besides watching him struggle not to break composure throughout is fun. it’s weirder when it’s ezra’s turn, because ezra’s lying is always half true by default, and it makes him wonder which parts are the lies.

he’s a little cold in his linen jacket and his drink is gone, so he follows his thoughts and drifts back towards ezra, drapes himself over his back. ezra stiffens like a corpse but doesn’t miss a beat in his sentence, because of course he doesn’t. he’s warm, though, and besides they’re playing pretend boyfriends, so he thinks he’s entitled to some shared heat without it being weird.

“maybe joa could be of use,” ezra is saying currently, obviously trying to throw him under the bus. “joa, do you remember who it was we saw that time with cousin esther at the thing in santa monica?”

“oh, sure,” joa says amiably, chin now resting on his bony shoulder. “rafael.”

the middle-aged couple make noises of recognition; ezra snorts in silent laughter, the movement making his shoulders jump. it’s a lucky guess primarily founded upon the statistics in his actual family. his cousins have shit luck- three of them with the same name has left them with some abominable nicknames. his previously name-dropped tia grassi is the only person stubborn enough to call them all rafael, just in different registers of disappointed suspicion.

ah, his tia grassi. funny woman. mildly terrifying. her fourth wedding had been an event, though he can hardly remember the second half of it, seeing as she’d refused to cater to the child-havers amongst the family and not left any of the punch alcohol-free. all he really remembers is her wedding dress, the cream-coloured version of her default pantsuit with the horrible bow. it’s funny- from where he’s stood there’s a woman right in his line of vision dressed in an orange abomination that looks exactly like the kind of thing only his tia grassi would subject some distant relative to on the day of their wedding.

wait. fuck.

“corazon, my tia grassi is here.”

"no, she’s not.”

“i’m serious, she’s walking right towards us. lady in the orange. fuck, she must be pushing a hundred.”

“shit,” ezra curses, sparing a nod for the couple he was talking to. “excuse us.”

“she’s following,” joa warns with mild fascination, as they bee-line towards the garden.

“great,” ezra says, glancing disbelievingly over his shoulder. “why the fuck is she following? and why is she even alive in this decade? how old is that woman?”

“ageless, i don’t know, she probably thinks i’m family,” joa mutters, glancing back. “which i am. just deceased family. she’s not gonna let up, you know.”

“you and your fucking bloodhound relatives. look, we can’t leave, they’re still going to try and do the thing with the fireworks.”

“well, we can’t stay either, or i’m getting marty mcfly’d out of existence, and i’m kinda partial to existing.”

“how is she even following us? scent alone?” ezra mutters, just a shade hysterical, as they wind their way past the bar. “we might have to pull a vermont.”

“oh, dude, no way,” joa says, immediately nauseous. “c’mon. it’s a wedding.”

“you were fine with it when you were beating that guy’s face in with the floral arrangement earlier!”

“yeah, and he was trying to ruin the wedding. this would be us, ruining the wedding. we would be the wedding ruiners.”

“we could choose someone neither of the brides like! they’d be grateful!”

“dude, i am not killing any guests at this wedding.”

“the only other option is worse!”

“no option is worse than murder, ‘zra, that’s kind of murder’s whole thing.”

“yeah? you rather kill hitler or fuck him?”

“always with the ultimatu- woah, woah!”

his second woah gets swallowed, which is probably for the best; ezra’s planting one on him with real determination. his brain short-circuits a bit or something; he doesn’t think to push him off, just lets him at it. it’s usually what works best when ezra’s on a mission, and also as it turns out ezra’s pretty good at the whole kissing thing, and also his nerves are singing and his blood is boiling and he is maybe, potentially kissing back, distractedly and then with intent, their bodies slotting together against the tacky fake rosebush as plastic thorns dig into his back and ezra’s sharp-nailed fingers dig into his shoulders. alcohol has made him warm and fuzzy, but there’s nothing drink-sloppy to it- just continuous, almost familiar ease, and his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

ezra pulls off first, with a nasty sound, head whipping around wildly as joa registers absently that the fireworks were going off in real life too.

“i can’t believe that actually worked.”

“three cheers for latent latin homophobia,” joa says, on auto-pilot, because right, his aunt, and time travel rules, and something. maria joseph and jesus, he’s just kissed a man.

“that and you not being violently sick on me,” ezra says, turning back to face him with his usual frown slotting absently into place. he looks awkward and irritated with his awkwardness and also extremely well-kissed. joa is struck with the realisation that he is entirely fucked in the head, because he finds the picture supremely enticing.

“dude,” he starts, because to be honest they have been skirting around this particular issue for a while and it’s hard to find a time and place to discuss it when it’s not weird or a capital offence. ezra is all narrow-eyed suspicion and coquettishly heaving breaths, which is not helping him focus but definitely helping convince him to labour the point. “i think we should probably- oh, shit, wait, the fireworks.”

he’s running before ezra can so much as cuss, and he gets there just in time, tackling the man right into the bushes and out of harm’s way, voice raised to an apologetic, casual slur even as they grapple for the gun.

“oh, my god, i’m so sorry, i must be drunker than i thought-“

the element of surprise wins him the fight; he manages to slam the guy’s forehead onto a marble lion a couple of times, sound drowned out by the fireworks above.

“honestly,” a slightly out of breath ezra is reproaching nearby, all fond reprobation, and then again once he’s shoved through the bushes himself, losing the affect. “honestly.”

“it’s fine, it’s fine,” joa says, wiping bloody knuckles on the guy’s shirt. “that’s fifteen, right?”

“it’s not fine, it’s fifteen minutes early. if coda is going to send us on these chickenshit gigs you’d think they’d get the fucking timings right.”

“it’s fine, he’s out,” joa repeats, shoving upwards and brushing bits of bush off his clothes. “viv’ll be angry about the suit though.”

“right, like she’s in the costume dep’s good books either after that stunt she pulled with the velvet dress,” ezra snorts, abruptly the voice of reason. “i can’t believe he was fifteen minutes early. that’s twice this week they’ve done this to us.”

“maybe we threw it somehow,” joa defends, rolling his shoulder. “you know the timeline warps the calculations.”

“we didn’t throw anything. twice in a week, seriously. what the fuck do we pay fees for if they can’t even get the timings right? this wouldn’t happen if we had a union.”

“‘zra, there are only ten of us. we are the union.”

“isn’t that a depressing thought. what were you saying earlier?”

“oh, that,” joa says, and then feels sick again. “hey, are you thirsty? i’m pretty thirsty actually.”

“don’t be an asshole.”

“i don’t know, honestly.”

“you’re not doing so hot on the non-asshole front.”

“oh, madre de dios, stop channeling your mom.”

“tu puta madre. i’ll give you passive aggressive.”

“fine,” joa breathes, in one big burst, annoyed and queasy and charmed all in one. “are we- like- ugh, dude, you know what-“

“specify.”

he pauses, exhales. “well, it just feels like maybe we should-“

“probably not.”

“right, but you’d like-“

“does it matter?”

“well, yeah, obviously. it’s just with work, it’s like... you know?”

“sure.”

“not that i...”

“sure.”

“although i don’t actually know if...”

“sure.”

“only then it’s like, overall- i think i want to kiss you off-duty.”

“mazel tov.”

“but would you mind?”

“did the tongue-fucking earlier not broadcast that enough?“

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.”

“a lesbian wedding. that’s their expertise.”

he considers this point.

“hey, you wanna...”

“well, the body,” ezra says, albeit reluctantly. he doesn’t like mess.

“oh, sure,” joa says, thinking. “i guess maybe newark ‘02?”

“yeah, whatever,” ezra shrugs, but there’s a suppressed pleasure in the way he clears his throat. “blue’s your color, you know that?”

“my mom used to say. can you take his feet?”

“jesus, the shoes. hey, did you have some of that cocktail thing earlier?”

“yeah, a couple. there wasn’t extra poison again, was there? because last i saw the res-mac the mormons had it and i so do not want to go to their rooms again.”

“watch the stairs. no, and fuck those guys. i could just taste it earlier. the sour cherry’s not bad but the sugar in this decade tastes weird.”

“the rim is the best part, what the hell?”

“your palate is deranged.”

“you eat pickled fish, jackass.”

“fifteen minutes early. what a schlep.”

“kvetch.”

“vete a la chingada.”

“don’t i have you for that now?”

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.”

“funny. so, bar?”

“you have blood all over your cuffs.”

“like anyone’ll notice. dude, you know they do 360s on ice in this decade?”

“no shit.”

“yeah, right?”

“why the hell are we still standing around not drinking?”

“viv is going to be so mad she missed this.”

“good for her. i’m still pissed about the fucking plath thing.”

“oh, my god, dude. you’re such a hypocrite.”

“name one time-”

“seriously? abbie hoffman?”

“fuck you.”

“holy shit, i think i see my aunt again.”

“are you kidding me? is she part-K9?”

“you’re supposed to be cute about it and kiss me again.”

“i’m not going to be cute about it, i hate that woman. you kiss me since you want to be so cute.”

luckily for the both of them, joa has bad taste. he complies.

#qui ecrit #ocs #tt #qui repond #anon

3 notes · View notes

karukos · 3 years

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Mirrors: Ao3 | FF.Net Last Chapter: Here

"... the handcuffs are a rather recent development in the whole hero business. They suppress most power quirks the moment the wrist rings snap together, however, Darlings, remember that people with mutation quirks are largely unaffected! Still, they are quite sturdy, so there should be no problem with putting them onto a villain, even if they got a cute squirrel tail!"

Ms. Midnight explained, with a smile, using her riding crop to point at the picture of the anti-quirk handcuffs on the whiteboard, holding her notes in the other. Coming to the end of her explanation she looked into the class, before asking:

"So who of you can summarise how the handcuffs work?"

Immediately hands shot up into the air to answer the question, mostly the usual suspects, but notably Mineta's too, probably to score himself some sort of attention by the beautiful teacher. Unfortunately for him, the question still went to Iida, who instantly shot up from his chair.

"The handcuffs were introduced about 10 years ago by the Shiamoto Security Corporation. They emit electromagnetic waves through the wrist rings and activate when they are locked in place. They only work on activated quirks only but are still sufficiently practical as useful as normal handcuffs!"

"Good boy, sit!" Midnight answered, a small wink downwards with her crop accentuating what she was saying.

Putting her down her notes onto the table she continued on: "So much for theory! I want you to get into your gym clothes and I see you down at field B for some practice."

She let the tip of her crop smack against the flat of her hands, the sound being the sign for the students to scramble to their feet and quickly do as they were told!

Ten minutes later, the class had assembled down on the training field, standing in a neat half circle around their teacher, who had rolled out a small cart with a few pairs of anti-quirk handcuffs.

"Ok, split into groups of two, we are going to practice putting the handcuffs on! Those, who don't have a mutation quirk, feel free to try and use your powers regardless! It's good to see how that kind of thing feels!" Midnight explained, as she looked over their students. "No need to fight just yet, we are just getting familiar with these."

Honestly, Izuku couldn't really take his eyes off them. There were many questions he had in his head. Sure, he had paid attention in class, everybody reacted differently to it and some quirks were even totally unaffected, most of which were those that changed your body, but how would it work with him? Did it affect One for All? After all it was something that was put on him later. How was it with those quirks that had the effect on the mind of the user... So many questions...

"Midoriya, I would appreciate it if you could focus on training instead of mumbling to yourself."

With that Iida was bringing his training partner back from the long winded corridors of his own mind. It was almost embarrassing, Izuku laughing awkwardly as he lowered his hand from his mouth, folding them apologetically in front of him.

"Sorry about that! So who is going to start with putting them on?" he asked carefully, being mindful to not get distracted by his own inner monologue again.

It was basically a coin toss, before they decided that Izuku should be the first, picking up the handcuffs from the cart. They were definitely a bit heavier than he anticipated. He could imagine that somebody could use them as light dumbbells for starting out, before he turned them around in his hands.

There were some helpful buttons on the thing, towards the center, allowing it to spread further apart or tighter together. Also some sliders to make the cuff parts bigger or smaller as well as an auto adjust button. Really a neat tool!"

Practice itself was somewhat unsurprising while using it in Iida. Putting him in handcuffs was fun enough, the self-adjust function being particularly useful in making sure you were closing the cuffs quickly around anybody's wrist, even if they were as thick as Iida's. Unsurprisingly, it was pretty much impossible for his friend to rev up the engines on his legs.

For a moment, Izuku saw Iida's eyes gloss over as he was trying really hard to get everything moving before he soberly noted: "As expected, no matter how hard you try, it is not possible to activate your quirk. What an impressive piece of technology."

Izuku couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the way his friend was phrasing that, before he was undoing the handcuffs and handing them to him. With that, Deku held out his hands, waiting for Iida to get the settings right, as he let him try around and experiment as well. After all, they wanted to become more familiar with that tool.

"Alright" the runner muttered as he laid the cuffs over Izuku's wrist. Checking if everything was right he then quickly snapped them shut over his wrist.

The effects were pretty immediate. Deku could feel a slight warmth creep over his wrist that definitely felt irritating at first. The feeling quickly crept over his whole body, getting worse and worse bit by bit until finally coming to an halt at his stomach. Slightly nauseous. As if he had lain in bed and jumped too fast?ENot bothersome but definitely uncomfortable.

"Ok now for trying to..." The moment he started pulling from his quirk it was like he had been gut punched. Nausea rose up his chest, he felt like he was about to throw up. The stronger he fought the feeling, the harder he tried to activate his quirk the worse it got. Then it got stuck in his throat, giving him absolutely no relief, his belly feeling like it was about to convulse but it just couldn't build up the strength to push him over the edge and fire out that thing that made him sick.

After a few more seconds of trying, he just gave up, sweat rolling down his forehead as the more he pulled back, the better he started feeling again. Looking up Iida, he gave him a slight nod before his cuffs were once again unlocked and this uncomfortable warmth disappeared.

"That was certainly... an experience..." Deku announced. Iida just nodded in agreement. There was little more to say to that. Still feeling the remnants of that uncomfortable feeling in his gut, he looked around. It was clear, some were definitely taken to this better than others. Somewhere having the same glazed gaze that he had seen on Iida's face. Others were just doing quite fine. Minetta was looking both amused and frustrated that the cuffs had difficulties becoming small enough for his thin arms. Overall, a mixed bag of reactions."

"Ok boys and girls! Now that everybody got their taste with the cuffs, we are going to do the next step. One of you will play the villain, the other one playing the hero and you will try and put handcuffs on each other. First without quirks, then with them! But no holding back, I want to see you trying!"

Midnight announced the moment she felt like they had enough time to really experiment around. Izuku would have preferred if she had given them a bit more time, because a threatening aura started to build up behind him, starting to loom over him, bit by bit, drawing closer.

"As you are holding the handcuffs right now, Midoriya, let's make this quick. I will play the villain at first!" Iida announced in his usual bombastic fashion. Izuku himself only turned slowly to face him, a clot building up in his throat as he felt his friend getting into his villain persona for these kinds of exercises. "Oh boy" Izu whispered under his breath as he got himself ready for this...

______________

"I am very sorry, Midoriya! I did not mean to go that far" At a perfect angle Iida was bowing before the couch, in the same strict and proper manner that one was used to from him by now. On said couch laid a very distraught Izuku, two cooling bags on his shoulders after the training. Definitely not the worst injury he had endured over the last year or so, but it still hurt.

Regardless, with an awkward smile he was just waving his hand. "It's fine. I know you had the best intentions." Midoriya said with a forgiving smile as he felt the cool sooth his overexerted joints. Having Iida as partner in a Hero/Villain training usually bore the risk of going just a tad bit too far.

Ochaco could only sympathetically smile at the two, knowing all too well, that if it didn't hit Izuku she would be the one that would lie on that very couch now, complaining about her aching shoulders. One day, Iida would learn not to give 110% all the time. Today was not that day.

"At least we got a free schedule this afternoon. Any plans you guys had?" she asked her friends, switching away from the topic of having a pair of aching shoulders.

Both boys didn't even get time to think about their response. Leaning over the back of the couch Denki inserted himself into the conversation:

"The gang and me are looking at the new arcade near the mall today. If you wanna you can tag along."

The Deku squad exchanged a few glances between each other before they just shrugged (a little ouch from Deku for that) before they agreed to come along. It sounded like a fun time at least.

With that decided they started packing up for the little trip, Izuku letting Iida do him the favor of grabbing his stuff while he was enjoying the last few minutes with the cooling bags soothing his pain before they got ready to go.

In the next few minutes all were lined up at the bos stop of the campus. Denki, Mina, Bakugo, Sero, Jiru, Eijiro, Izuku, Ochaco... and with that IIda was done counting the number of participants. Maybe some of them started regretting bringing their class rep along. Either way, they were on the bus sooner rather than later?On the way to the arcade!

"It's been a while since I've been at an arcade. Used to have one nearby where I lived when I was in middle school still" Sero started recounting. "It closed though, shortly before I graduated. Was a shame, really."

"We also had one nearby our school. But I really only went there with Kacchan when we were little." Deku chimed in from behind Serofs seat, somewhat timidly while he fondly remembered those few early birthday parties, when he was still invited, that ended before rows of gaming cabinets.

"Deku is the worst person to invite to the arcade," Bakugo boomed from the back row of the bus. gFirst, he will do absolutely nothing all day and cling to you like a leech until he finds one machine and then hogs that machine for the rest of the day! And even when you go home, he will still only talk about nothing else but that one damn game!?EClearly, he was remembering those times just as vividly as Izuku.

There were some giggles, most of them somewhat awkward over how tense the relationship between the two still was. Some were just giggling because of how?Ewell, Deku it was. It was not difficult to imagine that Izuku out of all people would sink himself way too deep into one game.

But the bus went on and as the chatter moved away from the past, they arrived at the mall and moved to the arcade as a closed group. Deku trailed at the back with Iida. Iida of course looking out so nobody was left behind.

Izuku, on the other hand, felt more like keeping a bit on the downlow. Sure, it wasn't really embarrassing what Kacchan revealed about him. Heck, even the fact that some laughed actually didn't hurt really. After all, he could tell there were no ill intentions. It was more the uncomfortable realization that he had done something like that without ever having really realized that. One might even call it guilt but from a time long gone" It was difficult to explain.

Either way, they ended up at the entrance of the arcade, everybody lining up nicely to charge up their point cards (Iida was pleased with how orderly everything was going) before they arranged the rest of their little adventure:

Everybody was allowed to go where they pleased. Should any issues arise, they would send it into the group chat. At 6 PM they would meet back up right there at the counter, where they were currently talking in front of.

And with that the group dispersed into the long halls of the arcade, disappearing into the land of games and gimmicks, each into their small, little groups. That left behind Iida, Ochaco and Izuku.

"Well, I guess we get going too?" Uraraka suggested as she started to lead the two boys into the dim hall of the arcade. Discussions started pretty immediately, which games she should decide on.

"... I didn't buy as many points. I wanna make them count!" She explained with her face in concentrated furrows as she stood in front of a "Dance Dance Revolution" machine, looking at the two foot pads... It was really fun she knew that. But playing alone? No way, and asking either of those two.... no, that might come across as weird.

"You know, you could have asked, if you wanted to loan. We are out to have fun and you do not need to hold back."Izuku offered with his ever kind smile on his face. Really, it would not be a big deal and he already knew what her response would be?Ebut it felt wrong not to mention it at least.

"Ah, no, no worries. It would feel wrong to borrow money for something so trivial." she shot the offer down with a handwave, a somewhat awkward smile on her face. This felt a bit played in at this point, a small ritual they practiced each time they went out somewhere. It was one of these strange ticks of wanting to help and somebody who doesn't want to be helped.

"Let's move on or we are going to take root here." Iida said after a moment of contemplation as they continued through the narrow hallways, flanked by potentially interesting games on either side. Talking was becoming increasingly difficult, though. The space between the arcade machines was rather narrow and only could comfortably fit two people walking next to each other.

And then there was the fact that walls were swallowing a lot of sound. If you were not right next to each other it was really hard to understand what the other person was saying. So all things considered, this was perfect for a pair of two to enjoy their day at the arcade, undisturbed by the many people that were around them... strangely intimate.

However, right now, it made Izuku feely strangely isolated. As it was right now, Iida and Ochaco were the pair walking next to each other. In part, because Iida was more prone to talk, in other part, because after what he heard on the bus, Izuku tried his hardest to not repeat the sins of the past... and somehow that meant that when they were walking he ended up trailing behind his two friends.

It was somewhat ironic. Over the last few months, he had definitely started gaining a lot more confidence and he felt more and more at home with his friends. Still, old habits seem to die hard. Especially when you brought up the past. His mind wandered back a little, knowing he was a bit too stuck in his own mind... yet he hardly could help himself. Before he even realized it really he had fallen behind a few steps behind his friends, who were seemingly debating something very intensely.

He stepped forward, about to call out to the two, when suddenly a hand started to run around his face, pushing onto his mouth. He could hardly even react, think before something round and hard was pressing into his back. it didn't need much to figure out what was pressing into his back. Instantly, Izuku raised his hands, showing that he was unharmed while he could feel the barrel of the gun rub against his spine.

"It's so good to see you, Izu~~~" a sweet, excited voice purred right into his ear from behind. A voice he knew... especially in situations like that...

"Himiko Toga?" he muttered carefully into her hand, just earning himself a giggle while she gently lowered her hand from his mouth down to his throat. "Say that again, please~" she cooed

Feeling sweat running down his skin, he took a deep breath. Might as well humor her... it worked before.

"Himiko To-'' he started before he heard a quiet squee coming from the girl standing behind him, feeling her breath against his neck as she leaned a bit closer, feeling the edge of the gun press a bit harder into him. "Uhuhuhu~, i like it when you say my name."

Just as she was saying that, something went through his head. This was Himiko Toga. He had never seen her use a gun. And it was not just one instance of meeting her. She always used a knife, didn't she? She used one last time too...

Carefully Izuku strained his eyes to look as much to the side as he possibly could... From the corner of his vision he could see a cabinet for a rail shooter. Maybe it was a bit of a gamble, but if he would look down, he was pretty sure that one of the toy guns they use for controls would be missing... and the cable they were attached to would lead right to the girl behind him.

He took a deep breath, his hands shaking from all the adrenalin basically boiling in his blood. It was a bit of a gamble but what he was about to do. "I am going to move..." he announced.

Slowly he moved his hands, reaching to his throat, where he could still feel her fingers curled around his neck, not enough to hurt, for now, but definitely made him think twice about moving fast. Gently, slowly, he laid his hand over hers. He exhaled, realizing he had held his breath up until now, before deciding to push forward the moment he noticed no resistance coming from the girl behind him.

"I am going to turn around." he added after a moment. Leading her hand away from his neck he started diving under his own arm as he kept holding onto her hand as he turned bit by bit until he finally faced her. Golden eyes stared at him, her smile becoming wider and wider... somehow he got the feeling she was expecting something. For a moment, he was lost, just staring back at her as the only thing going through his head was the relief of seeing that she was indeed just holding a toy gun.

A moment passed and Toga just seemed content with looking at him, letting all that just had happened sink in, before suddenly purred out: "I also like it when Izu's holding my hand~"

Like a hammer, that strange realization hit Izuku right in the gut, his eyes widening, his heart skipping a beat. The strange realization that he was holding hands with her came some out of nowhere that it threw him for a loop. He already could feel blood rushing up into his head, his cheeks start glowing bright red, while he tried to let go of her hand, but it did not seem like Toga was going to give him that luxury. With a wide smile on her face she held tight onto him, humming happily as she scooted just a little bit closer.

"What are you doing here?" Izuku kind of blurted out of nowhere, his eyes frantically checking between her face and their hands. Just when he thought he was sweating before... Honestly, you would think that knowing that you are not in immediate danger would calm you down, but if anything his heartbeat was just increasing with every passing moment.

"Oh Izu~" she really liked saying his name, it seemed. "I could ask you the same thing."

Somehow, that was quite the surprising answer. He had no idea why, but the thought that a villain would go somewhere for amusement and fun... it did not occur to him before.

"S-so..." he tried to continue, but honestly he had nothing. What was he supposed to say now? He still stood there with her pretty close to him, his fingers still intertwined with hers. He was not sure if he had suddenly dropped out of all nervousness or if his anxiety had transcended to the point, where he was just looking at her with his mouth agape, wrestling for words.

Then the thought occurred to him that somebody could see them like that together. Would they know? What if his friends were seeing him like this? They WOULD know that he was sure now. How could he explain to him what happened. Could he explain it? Sure, this was very much a similar situation to that he was in just before the training camp but... really that was not it.

He probably had been silent for a little bit too long, because she was tilting her head, clearly trying to get in his head somehow. There was at least the distinct feeling that she was looking right through him right now. But he couldn't do the same. He stared in her golden eyes and just... he couldn't quite understand what was going on behind them. If anything, there was just the distinct feeling that he was not actually in danger right now, that holding a toy gun to his back was just her sense of humor...

But apparently, Toga had had it with just waiting around. With a hum she turned slightly towards the booth, tugging on his hand until he came closer to her once more, still feeling the anxiety but at this point he was just complicit.

"So... since introductions are out of the way. Have you ever played this game?" She asked, as she twirled the toy gun in her hands, standing just a tiny bit behind him to lean a bit closer to him.

It took him a bit of looking. But honestly, it didn't take a genius to figure out what this game was about even if he hadn't heard of it before. A rail shooter, for one or two players, since there were two controllers. From the look of the banner, he could guess something along the lines of a military shooter, where you would play as some action star. Not usually the kind of game he would go for.

"Can't say that I have." he admitted. He thought about maybe elaborating on it, but he didn't even get to finish that thought as Toga pushed the controller into his hands, putting her palms around his fingers to make him grab the gun with a big, toothy grin. "Then let's try it out, Izuuu~"

Before he could really say anything she had snuck behind him and laid her arms around him and her chin onto his shoulder. It felt a little bit weird. After all he was a bit taller than her, meaning she had to balance herself on her toes. Well and then there was the fact that she was pushing herself against his back in such an... intimate way. The way she put her weight on him, trusting him to not just suddenly move or step aside.

Somewhere in his head he just came to the conclusion that he felt way more nervous about this than he should be. But it didn't really help that; "I am not really that good at shooter games..." he confessed as she pushed the controller into his hands, closing her fingers around his hands. This was not helping at all!

"They are still fun, right?" Toga asked, more so whispering in his ear instead of saying out loud. Izuku stopped for a moment, thinking. She had a point, he supposed. Trying to reason back was haard, because he got nothing really. Were they fun? He hadn't tried playing anything like this for such a long time that he honestly had no idea, really!

"Not really sure." He finally managed to press out. In response, Toga just raised her hands, wordlessly starting up the game for the both of them. The game loudly announced its title and went to a screen, just the stereotypical image of someplace in an arid desert. In the middle of the screen appeared a crosshair that started following the movements of the controller, right now bobbing in place from Izuku's shaking hands. Well, it seemed like Toga made him figure out if those kinds of games were fun to him!

The first enemies started to appear on screen, his hands jerking in the right direction to press the trigger on the toy gun. Bang! and that soldier keeled over dramatically, earning him a giggle into his ear, by the girl learning so close to him. Before he could even process that giggle, she had moved his hand into position for the next enemy appearing, leaving him to only have to push the trigger once more.

Somehow this was the way their teamwork was going to work out. She moved the gun and Izuku would jerk to shoot. Here and there he earned himself a giggle from her, tickling the back of his ears, especially when there was a particularly gory kill on screen. There was some enjoyment in hearing her laugh like that even if it was maybe not what he would call wholesome. It was just a different kind of carefree, a shred of humanity that he had not experienced to this degree. After all, there was nobody here to fool, like she might have had to last time.

Though, like all good things, this too had to come to an end. As well as they might work together, here and there an enemy appeared faster than they could react and shot them before they could do him the favor. GAME OVER!!! Well it was certainly fun as long as it lasted. Their points flashed across the screen. The leaderboard asked for the 3 letters to indicate how well they matched up to everyone else.

Before he could even think about it, Toga had already positioned the toy, hammering in IZU into the machine before finally, and quickly, let go of his hands, positively as she was practically vibrating in place. "That was fun! Is there anything you come out here to play?"

Izuku was just in the process of putting back the controller, still thinking on what just happened, as he mindlessly aped: "Anything I want to play?"

He honestly didn't really think about it. Just like everybody else in his group he had come here with no expectation with what this arcade had to offer, so that question left him a bit off balance. The fact that she implied that she was now with him somehow managed to fly completely over his head.

"I got nothing planned, really" he admitted. For a moment she just smiled widely, before reaching once more for his hand, dragging him away without needing to say another word. Walking along the cabinets she would stop here and there, looking around then looking at him, her eyes wide open in excitement. Somehow that reminded him a bit of cats, walking in front of you but stopping ever so often if you were following them despite being just a footstep behind them.

While she was clearly keeping her eyes out for something, something came to Izuku's mind, making him look around attentively as they essentially retraced his steps before she had found him. A few cabinets he had already seen along the way, a rhythm game or two, whose flashy logos had stuck in his mind... Oh!

Toga almost fell backwards as Izuku abruptly stopped in his tracks. Seemed like he had found something. Standing in front of the dancing platform, he chewed on his words a lit bit before asking: "Would you like to try this one out with me?"

A light blush appeared on his face as the realization of what he had just asked went through his head. It kinda had just come out in that moment without any thought, thinking only about that it might be fun... but of course there was more to it. This was what turned this accidental, little uncomfortable meeting into something else entirely.

It was not lost on her either. A flush on her cheeks and that wide grin on her face again; She definitely got the message he had unintentionally and thoughtlessly sent. Her fingers curled a little bit tighter around his hand and with a quick "Yes, of course!" they were already on top of the dancing pads, looking at the shared screen.

"Any song you would like to try?" Izuku asked, gallantly trying to ask for her favorites before his own, whatever those might turn out to be. He was fairly confident in his ability to dance, thinking back to the choreography they had practiced in for the culture festival. Even if that had been a hasty affair back then.

After a little bit of consideration. Toga just shook her head. "Anything that you are okay with, I am too!" Meanwhile, with her hands on the railing, she already was testing the foot pedals a little, hearing the satisfying register sound. Seemed like she was more than eager to start!

Flicking through the list, they settled, or rather he asked about it and she enthusiastically nodded, on a rather generic rock song that he had occasionally heard on the radio. It seemed easy enough.

The song started playing, the screen jumped to a split screen for the both of them as a countdown started flashing in rhythm. Then arrows. Many many arrows! And quite fast too! It seriously caught Izuku off guard at first, not hitting the first few inputs, leaving him to struggle to get back into the rhythm for a few moments before he finally got a hang of it, just in the knick of time before the health bar on top of his screen fell to zero.

Quickly he started to realize why there was a railing behind the platform. Holding onto it, it was a lot easier to quickly move your feet since you didn't have to move all of your weight to step on the buttons. It felt like at times it was otherwise downright impossible to move quickly enough. Leaning back more and more, he was practically sitting on it as he fought to make not too many mistakes.

By the time the song was over, he had started working up a bit of a sweat, feeling his breath deepening a little already. He really didn't expect that this game, and particularly this song, was so intense...

"Oh, that was fun!" Toga announced from the side, standing there with a positively elated expression on her face. Sure, she too had worked up a bit of sweat running down her brow, but she seemed to take to this much quicker than Izuku.

Still left a little bit breathless, Izuku looked over to this excited bundle of energy that Toga currently was and just offered. "Want to try a song on your own?"

He was not sure if that was okay with her. After all, she seemed somewhat insistent before doing things together. But as worried as he might be that she was not going to like it, it seemed like she was quite open to the idea.

Finger against her chin, she scrolled to the different songs. For a moment there was a wordless silence as the different song previews blared from the speakers. It took her a little, hovering over one particular song before she shook her head and moving on.

"What would you like to see me dance to?" she asked after a few more moments of scrolling around aimlessly.

Izuku was taken aback for a moment. That simply sounded so wrong. Somewhat suggestive even. There was a bit of excitement bubbling up inside of him and in equal, maybe bigger, parts shame for even thinking of it in that way.

"Uhm... I... no idea." He more-or-less blurted out before taking a good look at the screen again. There were a bunch of good songs, of course, but it seemed like she had put all the way of the decision onto him, as if it was his enjoyment that mattered. And that made him feel weird all over again.

"How about you try that one?" He sugged rather meekshily as he scrolled to the song in question for her, earning him a grin and a wink as she pressed the button to select the song and stood up straight again, hands going away from the railing and instead straight away from her body while cooing:

"Watch me closely, Izu~!" just when the song started up its into and the first arrows started to appear on screen.

So he did. He watched as she put on a concentrated pout and started stepping around, dancing about on the little dance square square provided. Watching the many hits and the few misses, but most importantly, he was watching her.

There were a few things that occurred to him in that moment: For one, Toga was actually pretty cute. Somehow in his guts he had of course always known it. However, normally his brain was so occupied by the danger she exuded, that the thought that he could feel himself getting drawn to her somehow did not register.

But now that he could see it this obviously: A girl so excitable, so energetic.... he couldn't help but stare a little, being drawn in by the way she danced around the platform. A few more thoughts were going through to his. A few more things that he could neither describe nor put into words, while the song was coming to its last beats. A few more steps and she was done, holding her balance on her toe tips as she waited for her score in eager anticipation.

Izuku felt the heat in his face rise out of nowhere. He could not quite place his finger onto why. Maybe the aftereffect of resting after dancing so much. The tingling in his belly told him almost immediately that he was lying to himself.

The screen flashed for a moment before displaying her score in bold letters. With a big grin on her face, she turned towards him, holding up her hands in victory. "Well, how did I do~?" She asked with cheeky confidence.

There was probably something smart to say in this situation, maybe something witty, but nothing would to his mind right now. He just felt the flush on his face rise further ,every part of his body pulling around his heart as if it was trying to try and stop it from growing three times just from looking at this girl.

Out of nowhere he suddenly felt like he was jerked back to reality harshly. Right, she was still waiting for his response, didn't she? Hastily looking at her score then back to her, he just blurted out: "Amazing!"

Probably a bit louder than necessary, but he preferred it over letting her sit in awkward silence even if he felt even more weird now.

"Well, that was fun. Come, Izuku, let's try some other games too!" Toga announced with a satisfied grin on her face. Walking over to him she expected her to just grab his arm and drag him off like had done before, but no... Holding out her hand she impatiently happened from one foot to the other.

Once more their fingers entwined, the third time now... just that it felt different to the other two times for Izuku. This time it felt warmer, more... appreciated. Sure, there was still nervousness and the fact that there was a certain discomfort in the closeness, but it felt good to walk with her hand in hand.

"How often do you come to the mall?" Izuku asked after a few moments of quietly searching the next game they could enjoy together. He didn't really know why he asked. Did he want to see her more or less? Come here more often or avoid it altogether for safety...

"Whenever i have time and money. So not that often. If people see me anywhere too regularly, it would become too much of a hassle, so I am here sporadically." She explained surprisingly freely and casually. The implications... the situation she was in; none of that was lost on him right now.

For a moment, he thought of bringing it up to her more clearly but he decided against it. He already understood; there was no point for asking for any further clarification.

"Any other places you usually go to?" He inquired instead, stopping in front of a puzzle game, looking at it with interest for a moment before moving on. He was in company. Not the time for a puzzle game.

"There is this burger restaurant somewhere on the edge of the mall... I have been there only once, but... the burgers there were so good. Really juicy too~ It was also nice and dim there, so I could stay around for a bit longer instead of just having to stop and go as fast as I could."

Izuku had known before that she was excitable, but this was just a bit different. Mostly, because what they were having right now was an actual, real conversation. Not some kind of play pretend. No mother would believe that she was his girlfriend or anybody else. Just her talking about something she liked to him.

"Haven't been there before..." He replied, a gentle smile sneaking onto his lips. "Maybe..."

That was about as far as he got with his words, with his thoughts. A loud cry disturbed the two, the sound of a tiny body dropping onto the floor. Izuku instantly started looking around. It didn't take long for him to find the source of those noises. To his left, right in the middle of a crossway a little boy had thrown himself onto the ground in frustration, his whole body quaking as he tried to keep the wailing inside, even if it seemed like it could burst out at any moment.

Without losing even a moment of thought about it, he was by the boy's side, one hand gently on his back. It was clear the toddler couldn't hold it any longer. Tears streamed down that tiny face, his mouth twitched all the way down and just before the bawling began, he started reaching to the closest thing for comfort... which in this case was, of course, Izuku.

Clinging to him like a little monkey, couldn't help but pick him up, consoling by stroking him gently over his head, rocking him gently while he tried to make him as comfortable as possible. Looking back at Toga, he found an unreadable expression on her face, her golden eyes seemingly having gone twice as wide as before, observing him and the boy close... to an uncomfortable degree. Honestly, he just hoped that he didn't just piss her off by suddenly jumping into action.

"I want my mommy!!!" The cry went off right next to his ear like a bomb. He knew that no matter what, that this kid demanded his full attention right now and no was not an answer anymore. An apologetic glance towards the girl he started patting the boy's back while rocking him up and down gently.

"Hey, hey... it's okay. Can you tell us where your mom might be?" Izuku asked calmly over the constant "Weh!" that was seemingly overshadowing every other sound in the arcade. Again he tried to repeat his question but he couldn't get a single bit of info out of the boy. At least until...

"I think I found something..." he felt somebody tugging at his shirt, drawing his attention away from the toddler. Once more he was looking at those wide, golden eyes, with no idea how to read what was happening behind them. But her gaze made him follow hers, down to the belt of the boy.

A small shield was attached there, a number handwritten onto it with a small message: "Hello, my name is Chonchi. I've lost my mom. Please call at this number:"

WHat a smart mother! Also probably meant, that this was probably not the first time this happened. Still, an easy solution to their problem!

"Great job, Toga!" he praised her, a wide, beaming smile on his face. "Can you call her for me, while I try to keep him calm?"

The corners of her mouth twitched lightly, not as much as he was to though. Shaking her head though, she explained: "Can't. I don't have my phone on me." Still showing that puzzling expression.

"Oh, no problem. You can use mine. It's in my left pocket." He explained turning the side towards her while she just wordlessly nodded. A little bit of eye contact, her expression changed back to that wide, toothy grin and a twinkle of mischief shone through her eyes as she reached for his phone.

The moment he felt her touch on the inside of his pocket he realized how strange what he said was. The twinkle of mischief had told him as much, honestly. Just for that moment his hero attitude wavered, giving for the part of him that was still a teenage boy that just offered a girl, he just found out was really, really cute, rummaging in his pocket for his phone... and she actually went for it.

The fact that she was taking longer than necessary just made his blood rough through his body even faster. Despite the toddler blaring and screaming at full lungs right next to his ear, his focus was entirely absorbed by the subtle touch against his thigh, the rush of his heat and the tingle that exploded from every single spot up into his belly.

While Toga successfully pulled out his phone, all he could do was stand there, mechanically rocking the boy up and down, aping the notion of trying to calm the child down. His mind, however, lingered on the feeling in his stomach. On the one hand, he definitely liked maybe this went too far... on the other hand, fireworks and volcanoes were the orchestra in his guts to the rapid drumming of his heart.

In the meantime, Toga had started fumbling with his phone. Maybe a little longer than he expected. With a concentration expression on her face she pushed on the screen as she struggled to make a call with it, it seemed.

"If you swipe to the right in the lock screen, it should give you a number pad." Izuku explained after a few more moments, earning him an atypical sweet smile. With that figured out she hammered in the number and pressed the phone against her ear, looking at him in awkward anticipation, while he tried to keep the toddler as quiet as he could.

"Yes? Hello, we have a toddler here, with your number on his belt... yes... of course... yes... yes... no, no problem.... yes... yes, we can go there." So it seemed like Toga was very decent at handling the phone call, her expression imitating somebody with a lot more maturity than either of them had. Mouth pulled down and brows pulled up with a polite smile finishing the look.

If the situation would have been different he might have found that amusing. Like that he was more so occupied bouncing in place while he watched her finish the call, eager to figure out what had been said on the other side of the line.

With a little sigh, she finally put the phone down, looking right at him before explaining: "The mom is going to wait at the claw machine cause they apparently are at an easy to spot location because they are one end of the arcade hall."

She made a short pause, eye contract unbroken still as she raised the phone back up. "Do you want me to hold onto it for the time being or do you want me to stuff it back in?"

Instantly he felt blood rush into his head, like steam was going to explode from his ears. Not only because he realized how much she was clearly flirting with him, but she pretty much confirmed that she noticed how much getting the phone had gotten to him.

"I-if you... you could hold onto it... I would... I would really appreciate that." he managed to stutter awkwardly, feeling like his collar was suddenly a tad bit too tight. Somehow she seemed happy about that response. But with that out of the way he turned to leave, looking for the claw machine... maybe also just trying to change the topic.

Going through the rows of machines for a little, it seemed like Toga quickly got tired of just walking next to Izuku. Not even though that kid was still crying tears and snot into his shoulder, that would not stop her from being close to him. Even if he had no hand free, she could still hook herself under his arm, leaning onto him as much as possible.

He could feel how much she was pushing him. It was pretty clear that was getting into his comfort zone, whichever way she could think of without scaring him off or getting the child to become even louder. Honestly, he did not really really know when she would overstep his limits. Conflicting emotions... on the one hand, it was uncomfortable , on the other, incredibly exhilarating, incredibly intimate like wading together through the dark, seeing when they would finally hit a wall. At what point did she push too far? Not even himself knew.

However, true enough, the claw machines were really not hard to find. Basically just walking away from the entrance the whole time made him find a whole row of them on the wall. Now, it was just a question of either finding the mom or waiting for her right there.

"At least, he stopped crying" Toga mentioned somewhat dryly, still clinging to Izuku's arm while looking at the kid with his whole face sunk against his shoulder, small hands bunched up around the cloth of his shirt. ONly an occasional hiccup showed that the kid had not fallen asleep.

"He probably had to get all that out of his system. Now he just tired." Izuku guessed, still occasionally rocking him lightly up and down, although he had to admit his arms started to ache somewhat from carrying the toddler around. But he didn't want to risk stirring the kid up by putting him down somewhere.

"We kinda look cute this way, aren't we?" Toga asked after a few too many minutes of waiting, having changed to leaning more so against one of the plastic boxes, hands crossed behind her back while she impatiently shifted her weight around heels. Clearly, that was getting boring very quickly to her.

"What do you mean?" he followed up, standing there attentively looking out for a woman that looked somehow similar to the kid in his arms, maybe somebody that looked a bit more distressed. Admittedly, he got a little bit bored, so talking with Toga was more than welcomed. Now, if only the first words coming from her mouth wouldn't immediately turn his cheeks bright red.

"Oh you know, when we were walking... me on one arm and a child in the other. Like a teenager that went too far too quickly but they stuck it out together either way." She explained herself, with her hands suddenly bashfully pressed against her cheeks, framing her face. Somehow he had the feeling that she was teasing him... and well, it was working. Then again, there was a light bit of red on her face, making him wonder if that was something she was actually fantasising about... that he did not know how to feel about.

"I-if you say so..." was the only thing he reasonably could respond to this. Well, despite everything it was still Toga. He better kept that in mind, even if that image of her was shifting even as they just stood there.

"I think I am seeing someone" she interrupted his thoughts before he could come to any kind of conclusion. Following her gaze, the woman really jumped out to him too, now that he had seen her. A rather small woman, pushing herself through the crowd, bouncing up and down as she tried to look over the shoulders of the people in front of her to orientate herself... somehow she reminded Izuku of his own mother a little bit.

As she came closer and closer, the reason for this whole mishap became quite clear, quite quickly. Pulled along by her was another child, maybe a year or two older than what he presumed was the sibling of the toddler he was holding. It did not much to imagine the situation of one kid going one way and the other staying behind or walking the other way... probably the nightmare of any parent, but unfortunately somewhat unavoidable at times.

The moment she spotted the teens she hurried over to them, while they were just waving and (at least Toga) jumping up and down to make sure she could not miss them. The exchange afterwards was quick and painless. The mother thanked them and apologized for bothering them by not looking after her child properly, before they slowly pried the now sleeping kid off of Izuku's shoulder before they could part ways.

"Well, that was something..." Toga noted, the moment the little family was out of earshot, her expression having gone from polite girl to something... a bit more annoyed. It kinda just occurred to Izuku, that she was cooperative to the whole affair way more because of him, than because of her own drive. Something that he was not sure how to feel about, but something deep down basically seemed to either gloss over the fact or forgave her immediately.

"Yup... definitely... So what now?" he asked, rolling his aching shoulder a little bit. Not a good day for his favorite pair of joints.

"We are already here, aren't we?" She noted, the happy energy from before quickly returning to her as she nodded over her shoulder towards the claw machines. "You could make this a proper date and get me something, Izu~"

And there she went and said out loud, what was quietly the undercurrent of this whole thing. Yep, this was a date alright. It might have started out somewhat weirdly but it was a date without doubt. Even if it left him suddenly holding his breath as if she was going to say "Just kidding" at any moment now.

But the "just kidding" didn't come. So he was left there, standing in the realization that this was his first proper date with any girl as he turned towards the many, many claw machines behind them. Rows of toys and plushes lining the area.

"Anything in particular you want?" he resolved himself to ask, feeling tingly all over as he realized he basically just admitted to date now fully, without any wiggle room for just making it "an accidental meeting" or anything of sorts. No, this was implicitly and explicitly a date.

"Hmmm..." she hummed looking through the row of boxes before pointing. "How about that one?" She asked, with a grin, pointing towards a plush of an orange cat with golden eyes. Honestly, he wondered why that didn't jump out to him immediately as well.

"... al-alright then." he stepped closer to the machine, letting the card charge the points. "Wish me luck... i guess?" Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew he was starting to behave weirdly. On the other hand. He really had not much control over it. There was so much to process at once the moment, she got a bit more explicit. Of course, he should not be surprised given their other interactions, but... he was agreeing to it right now. That was the part that really threw him for a loop.

With a lot of jingles, the machine came to life, the claw started to move... With a deep breath, Izuku started to concentrate, carefully pressing the buttons while he tried to commit himself to the task at hand. Maybe that could banish the whirlwind going through his head at that moment. At least momentarily...

Maybe it was better that he did. After all, claw machines were... something. Incredibly difficult, unpredictable, sometimes moving in ways that you would not expect and other descriptors of that likeness; with a big frown on his face he had made several attempts to get that golden eyed cat, while Toga was casually coming closer and closer, softly cheering him on from the side.

"Almost got it~! Next time you get it for sure." She purred into his ear until finally, with his fingers starting to feeling kinda tingly, he started to make promises to her encouragement. The claw finally had hooked itself into one of the paws, slowly dragging it upwards, slowly carefully. With shaky motions it was slowly hovering itself towards the reward chute.

Thunk, click, clack... at this point, Izuku already had started to relax. The cat dropped down, the sensor opened the chute and there it was! This had been way more stressful than he had expected from such a silly little machine. Who made them this difficult? This was stupid!

"You did it! You did it!" he heard from the side as he felt a pair of arms wrapping tight around his chest, pulling him close, a warm embrace mixed with the sudden up and down as Toga was bouncing in place. And there it rushed all back into him.

There was only so much distraction could do to let you ignore the fact that your heart was beating up your throat, the fact that all the time a cold sweat was trying to contain the heat that was rushing through your entire body and the butterflies that were flying around your belly in a rapid frenzy. Honestly, he did not even mind it that much. There was a dopey smile on his face as he bounced a little bit with her, just as there was a healthy sum of fear of the feelings that were boiling up in him.

With shaky hands, he reached into the machine and carefully pulled out the stuffed toy like it was a prized treasure. It was really just a simple thing, but it was something he had seen in movies, something he had glanced at when passing the TV, or what he read in mangas while he was trying to act like romance was not that interesting to him, when he was in that age... and now he was doing that himself.

Maybe he was overthinking this, of course, but honestly, he could not stop thinking about these things when he turned towards the blond haired girl that had started conjuring all this up for him.

"F-for you..." he said with the biggest case of "speaking before thinking" as he held the orange cat out for her.

Toga just replied with a big grin on her face, her eyes softening from their usual expression to a gentle expression he had not really seen on her before. Gently she hugged it, pressing it against her cheek and let the softness grace her skin. For a moment, she was focused on that feeling before she looked back to Izuku, stepping closer.

"Thank you, Izu~" she purred into his ear as she leaned so close her mouth was right next to his ear, before turning slightly to press a kiss onto his cheek.

He thought he knew what fires could rage in his body. He thought he knew how his blood could boil. He thought he knew hard everything in the body could squeeze together... but nothing quite could have prepared him for the onstorm of what just happened. He went stiff in a second, every muscle tensed, color shot up into his head so fast he had no idea that was even physically possible while his heart felt like it was leaping out of his chest, green sparks suddenly flying for a split second... Any more and he probably would have jumped through the roof of the building, catapulted by the sudden explosion going off in his heart.

"S-so what e-else would you want to do?" For the third time, he tried the tactic of distracting himself, but... already he could tell he was not exactly working. His hand traced his cheek again and again, making his whole body shiver at that memory that was burning itself into his brain permanently.

"Mmmh, don't know. Let's look around!" The simplest answer from her. Fingers locked together and time became a whirl. Flashing colors, moving pieces and so many more things that made his head spin. Toga did know how to press his buttons, to keep him on edge with the way she was keeping to him, and keeping him paying attention to her, no matter how much he shied away from it at first.

When the time came for it to stop, he already felt lightheaded. In a great many ways, he was exhausted, but at the same time brimming with energy. But the clock didn't lie... finishing the last game, he confirmed that the numbers on the screen of his phone were indeed showing the correct time.

"I think I need to go..." he announced in a weird voice. Suddenly he felt... deflated. Reality slowly had found its way back into his head. There was a world outside of these games and a place where the fact that he was standing peacefully next to Toga would have raised more than a few eyebrows. A world, where this cute girl next to him was a coldblooded killer. And it was not like he did not know that. It just came back to him at this very inopportune time.

"Awww, well, I should probably go too. The others probably already wondered what I am up to." And it sounded so normal, if it wasn't for the fact, that the 'others' were the most dangerous group of terrorists and villains in the country. So what to do from there? Should he do something, probably, but... there was a certain weight on his heart about that.

"So... yeah..." What should he say to her now? Goodbye? See you around? Until next time? All of these seemed terribly morbid all of the sudden. Maybe he should do that anyways, just to not ruin the mood completely? The fact that there was a switch inside of him, that flicked so quickly from euphoria to anxiety somewhat worried him.

"I had a lot of fun today, Izu~" she started out, gently drawing close to him, arms stretched out already to him. "Maybe one day, we will be able to repeat it."

With that she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug, something she hesitantly reciprocated. This was, not that bad really. It just felt all kinds of weird right now. Although he had to admit, the cat plush that was currently pressing into the small of his back, was so much more preferable to the knives, to the toy gun... It was much softer. And somehow his mind latched onto that a little.

"Yeah maybe." he answered with his voice feeling weirdly heavy. Toga grinned her typical grin, from one ear to the other with mischief written all over her face as they parted, giving him a small wave. And as soon as he blinked... she was gone. He could not quite tell how she did it, but she had stepped into the crowd and disappeared completely.

Somehow the room, despite all the people he was surrounded by, suddenly felt strangely lonely. Once again he looked down at the clock on his phone... yeah it was time. Maybe, when he was back with his friends, this little pit in his heart would disappear... And with that he navigated back to their meeting point.

#midoriya izuku #Deku #Toga #Himiko Toga #Boku no hero academia #BNHA #MHA #My Hero Academia #Romance #TodaDeku #Frame of Mind #my writing

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alexhogh7137 · 4 years

Text

Rule The World With Me-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Story Summary: Ivar travel's to Kiev to escape his brothers, where he meets you and hopes that you will be his queen.

Chapter Thirteen: Valhalla Awaits

Chapter Summary: you learn Bjorn's fate and find out other incredible news!

Word Count 2,239

Warnings: Angst, gore and fluff

In the morning, you woke up and Ivar was not by your side. You immediately panicked. Did Bjorn get out somehow and hurt Ivar? Did Ivar leave and not tell you? Where is he? Is he okay? You hurry out of bed and throw on the dress that was the closest to you and ran out of your chambers. You walk around the house, no sign of him. You see Igor eating in the dining hall.

"Igor! Where is Ivar?"

Igor "I haven't seen him all morning." That made you sick to your stomach. You woke up very nauseous this morning and didn't know why, but this is making it worse. You grab some fur and run out of the door. As soon as you walk outside, you spot Ivar immediately. He is simply talking to your warriors and shield maiden's, probably about today's task. You take a big deep breath and try to calm down. You were so worried that you might have lost him, that seeing him just made you almost faint from relief. You go back inside and sit down next to Igor.

Igor "Where is he? Did you find him?"

"Yes, he is talking to the warriors, he's okay."

Igor "are you okay? You don't look very well."

"Just a little nauseous Igor, I'll be fine." You didn't know why you were so nauseous but you decided to go to the medical before we learn Bjorn's fate, just to make sure that you are okay. And you are way more than fine. You are pregnant. You are pregnant with Ivar's child. You feel so blessed, grateful and lucky to be carrying his child. You can't wait to tell him the great news, but sadly it will have to wait. You walk out with the biggest smile on your face, capturing Igor's attention.

Igor "you look happy! What's the good news?"

"I'm pregnant." He ran to you and gave you the warmest embrace. This explains all the mood swings that you have been having this week.

Igor "this is great news! Is Ivar the father?"

"Of course, dear boy! I will tell him later on this evening. He will be so pleased."

….

Your maiden's are braiding your long, red hair as you put on your arm armor. You know that Bjorn wouldn't be able to hurt you, but you can never be too safe. Especially now that you are carrying a baby.

Maiden "congratulations my queen. You will be a wonderful mother." You thank her and ask her to bring in Ivar. Soon after, Ivar comes into the door. His eyes lock to your body.

Ivar "oh, my queen...I have never seen you in armor before. You are more beautiful than anyone I have ever seen." You walk over to him with a big smile on your face. "What is it my love?"

"Oh nothing, I just have some incredible news." You have moved your arms so that they are linked around his neck, and his arm is around your waist.

Ivar "oh yeah? What is this great news..huh?"

"Nope..you gotta wait till Bjorn's fate is decided." He rolls his eyes and sighs.

Ivar "you already know his fate my love, just tell me."

"You really can't wait?"

Ivar "no..please tell me. I want to hear some good news." You place a quick kiss to his lips and then pull back to look into his eyes.

"I am with child." His eyes immediately start to fill up with tears and his lips start to quiver.

Ivar "with...mine?"

"With your child Ivar. You are going to be a father." He drops his crutch and picks you up in his arms, which you immediately wrap your legs around him. You can feel wet tears hit your cheek. You are crying as well. This news is the best news that we could ever get right now.

Ivar "I can't believe it! I'm going to be a father!!" He is saying it at the top of his lungs, making you laugh through the happy tears.

"Yes Ivar, you are going to be a father. And I am going to be a mother!" He places you down and cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you.

Ivar "after Bjorn is dead, we shall have a ceremony! We will be married and soon, we will have this beautiful child in this world with us, yes?"

"Yes!" He kisses you one more time and then walks out the door to let you finish getting ready. His reaction was everything you hoped for. The gods have really blessed you and Ivar. Imagine how Ivar feels! A cripple being able to impregnate his woman...what a miracle! And a miracle it is! You look at yourself one more time in the mirror and one time at your belly. You rub small circles around your lower belly and whisper, 'I love you my little one, I can't wait to meet you.'

____________________________________

Ivar joins you hand in hand as you two walk down to the courtyard. There is a large platform where executions, hangings, and sacrifices are performed. Bjorn is barely standing up in front of you people. You notice that his right eye is missing. You laugh and look at Ivar.

"You did that didn't you?"

Ivar "you heard what he called you, of course I did that. No one threatens my soon to be wife and mother of my child." He kisses your head and you two get in front of your people.

Ivar "People of Kiev, before you is Bjorn Ironside, my brother! Before you good people decide his fate, let me tell you who the REAL Bjorn Ironside is! He.." he points to Bjorn, "Threatened the life of your queen! He called her unfathomable things! And if that is not bad enough, he is ruining my father's image! He is not the king that you all think he is! He calls me ruthless, evil!! But the truth is, he is describing himself! He never fulfills his promises to his people! He-"

Bjorn "HE IS LYING!"

Ivar "SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

"Your future king is right! Bjorn is the lyer! I promise you, that if you don't make the right choice, he will come back here and destroy us all!"

Ivar "I will give you time to think. Please, do the right thing." He looks over at you and smiles. You grab his hand and look back down at your people.

"I hope they do the right thing. I fear that if he lives, he will come back here and kill us all-"

Ivar "I will NOT LET THAT HAPPEN! You are the most important thing to me, I will not let him touch you, or our baby." Bjorn heard that..

Bjorn "baby? How is that possible?"

Ivar "I am going to be a father brother."

"That's right, I am carrying his child."

Bjorn "ohh you really are a whore aren't you? There is no way that my brother can impregnate a woman!" He laughs and spits out blood. Ivar walks over to him and grabs him by the throat.

Ivar "I...will make certain...that you will not live another day. Are you ready for Valhalla brother?"

Bjorn "I am always ready for Valhalla...a place where you will never go." Ivar let's go of his throat and crutches his way back over to you.

Ivar "People of Kiev, what is Bjorn Ironside's fate?!"

"We have decided...hang him where he stands!!" Ivar looks at you and smiles, then looks at the guard. The guard places the rope around his neck and waits for his orders.

Ivar "NOW!!!" and in that second, Bjorn is dangling at the end of the rope. However, the rope snaps! You panic and look at Ivar. Ivar grabs your hand and looks at you.

Ivar "stay by your shield maiden's, I love you." You couldn't respond quick enough before Ivar walked off. He had to make sure that Bjorn dies this day, even if he has to kill him himself. The shield maiden's pull you into a shield-wall.

"SHIELD-WALL!!" you couldn't see Ivar anymore, all you could here is the ruffling of swords and footsteps on the fresh snow. Did Bjorn have a weapon? You didn't know.

Ivar "I WARNED YOU BROTHER!! YOU WILL DIE THIS DAY!"

Bjorn "You are wrong." Warriors have grabbed Bjorn and has him by the arms. Ivar walks up to him and draws his sword.

Ivar "I wish you didn't make me do this brother, but you leave me no choice."

Bjorn "you do have a choice...you just decided wrong. Like you always have, dear brother. You think you are always right, that you are a God...but really, you are nothing but a cripple, angry bast-" Ivar plunges his sword into Bjorn's chest before he could finish. He watches the life leave his brothers eyes. He didn't cry, he didn't feel remorse, he felt nothing. He pulled his sword out and watched his brother's lifeless body fall to the ground. Fresh blood dripped off of Ivar's sword and onto the cold snow. And in that moment, you hear your people scream in victory.

You push your way through the shield-wall and rush towards the noise. Ivar looks up at you and you fall to your knees. He makes his way over to you as fast as he could and pulls you into his arms.

Ivar "my love! What happened!?"

"I-I don't know...I just got lightheaded I'll be fine. Is he gone?"

Ivar "yes my love...he is gone!"

"Then can we get married now?" He leans down to kiss you, giggling in your lips.

Ivar "yes my love, we can finally get married. But we have to invite Hvitserk and Ubbe!"

"Yes! Oh and we can tell Hvitserk you're going to be a father!"

Ivar "yes, it will be a very good day. A very celebratory day, filled with good company, a nice feast, and just pure love. How does that sound, my queen?"

"It sounds much better than laying in the cold snow right about now!" He laughs and helps you off the ground.

One of your shield maiden's "My queen, what happened?! You just...fell to the ground!"

"I'm fine, just got too worked up that's all. I thought something happened.."

Ivar "I am going to take your queen to her room now, she needs some rest." He starts to walk you to your chambers when Igor stops you.

Igor "Is Bjorn dead?!"

Ivar "yes, Igor..he is dead."

Igor "why are you carrying y/n? Are you okay?"

"I am fine, don't you worry about me so much! I am a strong woman, I can handle a lot of things, dear boy."

Ivar "your queen is right! She just got a little scared and got lightheaded…so Y/n and I will be in bed for a few hours if you need us, yes?"

Igor "yes, of course. Get some rest my queen...don't want you stressed out with that baby now do we?"

"We definitely don't!"

…..

Ivar "let me help you get this armor off of you." He starts with your wrist pieces, then your chest and back pieces. It feels good not to have all of that weight on your body anymore. Maybe that is why you kind of fainted…

"You are too good to me."

Ivar "no...I am only treating you the way that you should always be treated, my sweet. I love you more than I could ever tell you. I will always treat you with kindness and tenderness."

"And our baby?"

Ivar "oh...I am going to spoil our baby! Son or daughter, it's going to get spoiled." You laugh and lean into him. He truly is the love of your life. He moves to your hair now, undoing your braids. His fingers through your hair is one of the best feelings. He is so soft, making sure not to tug too hard.

Ivar "okay you're all done, let's get into bed huh?" You nod and make your way into bed. You haven't even had dinner yet and you are so drained. All you wanted was to be in Ivar's arms for the rest of the day. Ivar finally gets into bed with you after taking off all of his armor. Pulls you into his arms and tugs the furs on top of both of you.

"I hope our child has your eyes Ivar."

Ivar "oh my love, I hope he or she has your warm, beautiful smile. And your beautiful hair. So bright like a beautiful rose."

"He or she is going to be so strong like you are."

Ivar "Well I hope that our child walks….not crawls."

"Regardless, I am going to love him or her just as much as I love you. Because you are perfect to me Ivar." He kisses you and you can feel him melt into your touch.

Ivar "We will send out letters to Kattegat tomorrow. I definitely want Hvitserk to be here for our ceremony."

"Yes, as do I." You two end up spending the rest of the evening in bed, talking about baby names and all of your plans for your child. But also about your wedding. All of these events are making your heart so full with love and happiness.

_____________________________________

{I am sorry to those who like Bjorn but I myself hate Bjorn! I hope you loved this chapter and look forward to baby Ivar!!}

@hvitserkmarcosource @desiredposion @ivarthebloodyking @youbloodymadgenius

#alex hogh andersen #vikings #hvitserk #marco ilsoe #ivar the boneless #rule the world with me

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varian-varient · 4 years

Text

“I-I-I... to s-say... to tel-l you... I-I mean...”

Gift for @kingtamakimurder!! <3 HAPPY VALENTINES DAY. I LOVE YOU.

1- I know cherry blossoms do not bloom in February, it just fits my vision. 2- Yes, it’s 110% Valentines in the ficlette, I started this a while ago and thought I would finish this sooner than Christmas. 3- Please teach me how to format on mobile. 4- lmao y’all, good luck reading the confession, you have to fill in the stutter and pauses better than I could write.

Word Count: 2,400-ish.

KISSES!!! (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

It tumbled out of your locker when you were talking to Nejire. You didn’t notice it at first, but the gasp she made was enough to make you worry. She held your arm and jumped, repeating “oh my god!” in your ear in various pitches and volumes.

“Meet me under the old Cherry Blossom tree by Ground Xi during lunch?”

You think she squealed louder than you did. The little note was perfect- the script was neat and well practiced, something you don’t think you could recognize and the missing signature didn’t help. The little drawing of the bunny at the bottom was adorable, and oddly familiar. You held it too your face and smiled- it smelled like vanilla. You hoped it was from him...

Valentine’s Day was the only day where people could fawn over all the crushes they had without being ridiculed. However, you still couldn’t tell yours. He was... a work in progress, some times. But he was worth the work and time. His smile, his laughter, everything was worth every second it took to make him smile. Tamaki was your everything- even if you weren’t his.

You started to like him after your first year Sports Festival. After walking to the stage to fight you, he got nervous after some of the other students cheered both of you on and he accidentally activated his quirk- chicken wings to hide himself, but he was an angel. For the rest of the battle you couldn’t stop thinking about how... angelic, perfect, absolutely beautiful he looked. He eventually just knocked you out of the ring, muttering a thousand apologies. It was when he got to the final battle with Mirio did he actually fight.... kidding- those idiots played three rounds of “Rock, Paper, Scissors” and decide the winner off of that. Tamaki won.

But that was 2 years ago! You couldn’t harbor feelings like this for going on 3 years! ......... It was a lie and you knew it; Mirio and Nejire knew it; the class knew it; the teachers knew it; the only one who didn’t know it was Tamaki himself. You would laugh at his jokes, smile at him, wave to him, made sure his comments were taken care of in group activities if Mirio wasn’t around, ask him questions about his day or weekend, have him know that someone was watching out for him.

Few times did you talked to him alone- you felt your face flush thinking about him- he would turn away and nod to questions or comments. Hardly would he actually respond back to you. Sometimes, on days he’s was flushed and sick, he would avoid you all together. It was nice to think he was afraid of getting you sick too.

As you left to leave for class, you ran into Mirio and Tamaki talking in a mostly empty hallway. Mirio was giving Tamaki his daily pep talk, but this one looked more personal. A loud “YOU GAVE IT TO HER?” echoed, pride and terror both laced Mirio’s tone. As they locked eyes with you, Tamaki shied away against a window. You waved, but only one waved back- almost robotic and forced for the situation. Passing by them, you smiled to Tamaki. He only gave a half smile back- and with the small glimpse of his face you saw, he was as red as you could remember him to be. What a horrible day to get sick on...

You walked the rest of the way to class, mostly lost in thought, even with Nejire beating on your arm. Crossing paths with your homeroom teacher, Present Mic, you silently greeted him with a lovesick smile on your face. Nejire walked in behind you, talking her head off about anything and everything. You over heard a quick “Did he...? Oh my god! He did?!” and “Yes! He did!” from Nejire and Mic. Those two could gossip together more than any other student.

As you sat and got your desk ready for class, you spaced out thinking about the note, and Tamaki, and who ever else you could think of who could have writen it. There was the electric blond from 1-A; the shadow girl from 2-C; the one student from 2-B you sometimes tutored; but everything lead to Tama-

“So? You gonna go?” Nejire whispered loudly, catching you out of thought. She pulled a chair up to your desk and sprawled a crossed your table. You looked up and away from her- accidently catching Mic-Sensei; his grin was enough to make you give up. You titled your head a little, looking away from Mic, and signed. “I’ll go, but it would feel like cheating on my feelings...if I said yes.” you whispered back. Nejire sat up straight, determination on her face. She gave you a small frown and opened her mouth to make another comment.

“What about cheating?” A voice boomed out before she could though, it was Mirio with Tamaki behind him. You gave both boys a better greeting from the first as Nejire beamed at them, waving her arms and talked louder than she needed to. “Our little one here got a confession note!” Nejire gushed about. “It fell out her locker in front of her face and she didn’t even see it. And it’s got the cutest little bunny on it, and she keeps smelling it!” Most of the class comments died down, and looked at the four of you waiting on the rest of the commotion.

“S-smelling it?” Tamaki murmured, his cheeks were a slightly less shade of pink as you locked eyes. He turned on his heels and walked to his seat, not letting anyone talk to him. He knocked his head to the top of his desk, and wrapped his arms around himself. His ears peaked from behind his hair- red as the octopus he eats. Nauseous...?

Classes were more than uneventful. More homework, no hero training for the day. Something or another about a request from the other girls. Most teacher didn’t do anything and let people talk quietly. Earserhead came by last second before lunch to ask for Tamaki, you didn’t know why but the class held their breath at it. For once was Tamaki confident, walking out with one of the most hard teachers.

They left for the hallway, the class erupted in comments. “Do you think...”, “It has to be, he’s friends with the red kid.”, “Holy shit, she’s not going to believe it.”, “This is gonna be like a fairytale!” Little comments pulled you to and from person to person. What was Tamaki going to do? Did he get in trouble? Who is “she”? What has Kirishima to do with it? Your head was swamped with dread, thinking that he was in trouble.

The lunch bell rang and the class ran out of the room. Giggles and the noise following. Nejire stayed behind with you- watching you scarf down the bento you pack- thanks to your quirk you had been limited on what you can eat. She talked enough the fill the silence as you ate. Mostly about her hair, or her nails, or how Yuyu has been doing, or her training.

“For someone afraid to cheat on your feelings, you’re excited enough to go see the note writer!” was the last comment you heard before you booked it out of the classroom. Waving her a salut, you ran down the empty hallway. “Yeah,” you thought. “I’m waiting for Tamaki.”

Finding the tree was easy- it is the only tree as old as quirks itself. Generations upon generations of flowers blooming from its branches. No one was under it yet, you were alone- happily. You steadied your breath once and you walked back and forth, in front of the tree.

Was it just the wind or did you it feel like the blossoms were falling much quicker around you alone? None of the other flowers from other trees were falling as quickly. Trying to look up, the sunlight glared at you to look back down.

You stood, bouncing and walking back and forth, waiting- for what could have felt like hours. Checking your phone, you see that it’s only been 20 minutes. Just long enough for someone to eat, normally, and make their way over to the tree, when not running. You brushed your hands against your face, reminding yourself to breath. They would come when they were ready.

They would come and it would be fine- the writer of the note would be coming and you’d look cute and if it wasn’t Tamaki, you’d gently let them down, and if it was Tamaki, you wouldn’t cry and let him talk first- but if this was a jok-

“L-Lost in th-though-t a-a-again, Bun-Bunny?” a timid voice got you out of the scatterbrained thoughts. You locked eyes with the same shade indigo you were just thinking of. It didn’t click to you who it even was- blinking away. He laughed silently, watching at the gears turned before the lightbulb clicked on.

“Ta-Ta-Tama!” You took a few steps back, and bumped into the tree. You were so ready for it to be him, but now? Now you lost everything you wanted to say to him. Blank minded, you could stare.

He jumped back at same time you did. The slight of his cool demeanor gone. He grasped his hands and pulled at his fingers, a trick Mirio taught him to calm down. Taking a heavy breath, he stayed staring at the ground and begin his nervous rant.

“I-I wasn’t sure i-if you would ev-en come. Mirio sai-d I shoul-d tell you bef-before the year en-ded, but I... wasn’t sure if you-you wanted to... be w-with... me. Fat Gum tol-told me that I-I would re-regret it if... I didn’t tel-l you s-oon, since I see you ev-ery-day and may not-not get to see you as oft-often af-ter grad-gradu-ation- with us becom-becoming heroes and all.... And Kiri-Kirishi-ma and other fir-first years ke-kept giv-ing me re-really b-bad ideas t-to con-fess to... you. Yaya sai-d thi-is would be be-best.” He took a small break and kept talking. He rocked himself; from one foot to the other, and back and forth from his heels to his toes.

“Bu-t I-I did-n’t wa-nt to... em-barr-ass you a-and m-ma-ke you so un-uncom-forta-ble that-that you woul-d leave... me. You’re jus-t ama-zing, a-and st-rong, a-and you nev-never gi-give up t-to anyth-thing. You al-alway-s put other-other people fir-first.” He was rambling and shying himself away. His stutter was getting worse with every passing word.

“Tama, slow down... I would always be here for you...” you knew what he was getting at, but right now you didn’t want him to put you on this pedestal. You just wanted to help him before he launched himself into a panic. He gave a small huff, he looked down harder, twitteling his hands together then grabbing his pants. You reached forwards to grab him, before he wrinkled his pants or ripped them from his grasp, but he took a step back from you. His head still hung low.

“I-I-I... to s-say... to tel-l you... I-I mean...” His stutter was worse. He wasn’t shaking yet, but he has going to be getting there soon. You took another step forward, but he took another step back- he didn’t want the comfort, he wanted to do this. You raised one of your hands out to him, letting him come to you instead. Giving him the softest smile you could, reminding him you’re still you and still here for him. He let go of his pants and grabbed your outstretched hand and just pressed his lips to your knuckle for a few seconds. Letting go of your hand and taking a deep breath, he looked up and looked you in the eyes.

“I wanted to tell you I like you, Bunny.”

For once he didn’t stutter. You collapsed against him and grabbed the back of his shirt, and began to sniffle to stop yourself from crying. Baring your face into his chest- vanilla eloping your mind. He wrapped his arms around you and nervously called for you. You felt yourself begin to tear up anyways. The note was his- this was his declaration to you.

“B-Bunn-y?” There is was. The pauses and stutter you love. The nervous ticks you love. The person you love. He loved you back.

You pulled away ever so sightly, and looked up to him. Your smile was brighter than the sun itself. He felt the same way. He felt the same way and this wasn’t a dream. Your eyes were glossy. You held onto his cheeks and tilted, catching him onto the most chaste, most innocent first kiss. He tensed up for a second and you began to pull away and apologize.

But- soft and gently- his began to kiss back, gliding onto yours. His hands dropped from your back to rest upon you hips, innocently pulling you close. You hands drifted from his face to his hair, tugging the knotted strands. As you parted for a quick breath, he uttered the words against your lips.

“I love you, Bunny.”

You leaned in for another kiss, feeling the tears begin to finally fall, before you both heard it. Whoops and cheers came from above you; you both pulled away and looked up in shock. Classmates and the students from 1-A sat in the tree- waging and waving the branches to make the cherry blossoms fall faster.

“I KNEW IT!” “Go Tamaki!” “Congrats Senpais!” “I told you this would work, Amajiki!” “He finally got the girl!”

You turned away form the monkeys and looked at Tamaki. The word was breathless on your lips. He smiled and held you, whipping away a few stray tears. Your cheeks began to hurt from how much your were smiling.

“Finally?” Like the last of the the tape had been ripped away from him, Tamaki sternly looked at your nose. Keeping his eyes on your face, yes, but still to nervous to look into your eyes again.

“Bunny, I-I.... I’ve lov.... l-liked you gr-eatly sin-since fir-st year. W-ill you please go-o out with...me?” He gasped out the last of the confession and gave a small pause at ‘me’. Like he was waiting for rejection, he turned his head and held his breath. Still holding onto your waist. You placed your hands back onto his cheeks and guided him face you, kissing him again- telling him he’s been the only one in your heart.

While everyone knew about your crush on Tamaki but him; everyone knew about Tamaki’s crush on you but you.

#mha x reader #Tamaki Amajiki #Tamaki Amajiki x reader #ficlette #gift #giftmas #how tf do i tag this?? lmaooo #btw this was 2.5 weeks of revision revised work that was revised already

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outlaws-of-anarchy · 4 years

Text

Tainted Love (Chapter 4)

Pairings:  Tig Trager x Reader, Herman Kozik x Reader

Warnings: Heart break, angst

Words: 2400

Eyes ghosted across the yellowing stains along the ceiling, and the overwhelming, and forever looming stench of cigarettes plagued the mattress she lied on top of. It was quiet enough that she could hear a couple a few doors down fucking like wild, crazed, animals. After the blow out with Tig, Y/N had found sanctity in a dingy, worn down motel room. Yet, it was hard to disappear in a town that was ran by bikers, bikers that all knew just who she was.

“The differences between me and you doll is that I only love one woman that I fuck, and I come home to her every night.” Were the words that haunted her, further tightening the knots in her stomach.

It was no surprise that Tig fucked around with other women, but what had come as a shocker, was that he actually loved her. He saw her as more than just a pair of tits, or someone he could bury his dick in, he saw her as something else, some worthy of his untamable heart. Yet, he had been so reckless with hers, in fact, he had inflicted so many scars and seared his name into her heart, that she knew it would never heal properly.

Just like the part of her heart that had never fully recovered from Kozik’s abandonment.

She felt guilty, and she knew why she did. While Tig fucked whomever he wanted, it was never with someone he loved. Y/N, on the other hand, had fallen so hopelessly back into Herman’s trap, giving him her body, the one Tig had marked and claimed repetitively over the course of a year. It was not easy loving two men, it was damn near impossible, but she couldn’t help how she felt.

At the end of the day, she could see herself with either of them. There was Kozik who was more stable, his mood didn’t switch constantly, he was faithful; for the most part. He also had admitted in the past of wanting a family with Y/N. And then there was Tig who was a loose cannon, a man with no morals nor ethics. He didn’t care who he hurt, as long as he got what he wanted. He was a rip-roaring storm, wreaking chaos everywhere he went. They had never spoke about having kids, nor ever taking their relationship to the next level.

Was there even a next level with Tig Trager? Who knew.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

‘I’ll be there in an hour, finishin’ up some shit with Happy & Op.” Was the text from Kozik, and Y/N read it with a scowl.

She was now standing outside of the clubhouse, music raging in the background. It was another Saturday night and it was no surprise that was a party being held at the Son’s stomping ground. Kozik had messaged her earlier in the day, inviting her over, but she had refused. She didn’t want to see Tig, and she definitely didn’t want to be put between them again, who knew how another one of their fights would end. However, Kozik had sworn Tig wouldn’t be there, and after reminding Herman that she didn’t know what she wanted, she agreed to go and see him and the others.

As soon as she entered the clubhouse, the stale scent of old booze tickled the entrance of her nose. Overtime, the smell had become familiar, one that she recognized as home. Yet, once she left, she had stayed away, the smell now foreign in her mind and unwelcomed.

“Fox! Good to see you kid.” Bobby hollered from near the pool table, a cigar in hand.

Her lips tilted into a smile at the nickname, one she had earned amongst the ranks of men. If she had been a man, it was obvious she would have been a patched member of SAMCRO. The nickname had been given to her sly, vexing, dastardly ways when she drank too much. She had the habit of hustling the men out of their money at pool or even other drunken, party games.

Nonetheless, she was a valued member of the family, even though she was now treading dangerously over two men’s hearts.

“Bobby, I expect a game later.” She winked, which earned a chuckle from the man.

“No way darlin’, I ain’t ever bettin’ against you again.” He said.

She could only shrug with a large smirk. “Wise man!”

Men and women had begun flocking in, filling the club house idly. Most of them she knew, some were also crow eaters. Women who have a particular taste for leather-clad men and trouble.

She had found a place at the bar, making small talk with Juice as he kept her glass full. “Juicey, stop giving me refills. I won’t be able to get home tonight.” She growled playfully.

“This is your home, we are family. Just because you’re going through shit, doesn’t mean we stop caring. You can always crash in my room if you need to. Loosen up, you deserve it. I got you.” He leaned forward, ruffling her hair.

Y/N could only coo at the cute Pureto Rican before downing the remnants of her drink.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

An hour had come and gone and there was still no sign of Kozik, Opie, or Happy. Whatever they were doing had either gone completely south, or they were god awful slow. Yet, one person she hadn’t plan on seeing, showed up, his insatiable aura drawing her in, eliciting a fire in her belly that she thought had been doused.

He had glanced once in her direction but after that, refused to acknowledge her, even in the slightest. He was giving her the worst cold shoulder she had ever received, and the only way she could fix it, was drink. Maybe spending so much time with the outlaws had influenced her, forcing her to pick up terrible habits. Such as, drinking to relinquish the pain and frustration she felt.

“Give me something stronger.” She murmured to Juice.

He was quick to oblige, sliding her a double edge of whiskey and rum. The drink was one hell of a concoction, it also tasted like shit, but it began working it’s magic and that’s all she wanted. Something to help ease the memories away, to smother the temptations, and to demolish the pain.

Juice had passed his bartender duties onto a prospect, giving him time to sit down beside Y/N and to edge into a meaningful conversation. And although she tried to give him her undivided attention, she could only look longingly over his shoulder into Tig’s direction.

It wasn’t long before a crow eater had taken an interest in him, of course it was one of the usual’s. One that had been passed around from man to man, taking whatever, she wanted. Y/N was positive she had seen Tig hook up with this particular woman before, but she couldn’t exactly remember. She was more focused on the way she draped an arm around her ex’s shoulder and pressed her fake tits into his chest.

Being only a simple man, it was easy for Tig to get lost in the captivating woman in front of him. But no matter what, no matter how hard he tried, Y/N’s face was all he saw. Taking the form of every woman he had tried to bag within the last week and ultimately failed at. She had kicked up dust in his mind, making it hazy and uncertain. Yet with all the uncertainty of the feelings she produced, he still wanted her, still loved her.

Hell, he was probably the most fucked up individual in the room, but she never cared. She loved him, she stuck by his side, until it all went to shit.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The last fifteen minutes, she had spent watching Tig and the crow eater make out in the corner of the club house. Every so often, Tig’s icy gaze would flicker in her direction, almost as if he wanted to make sure she was watching. The longer she spent staring, the more she grew angry, and the more her heart crumpled. If he was paying her back for what she had done with Kozik, then it was working.

It had been easy to slip into a severely intoxicated state, her judgement a little compromised, but everything she was feeling was everything she would have felt if she was sober.

Y/N’s cloudy eyes fell to Tig’s hands as they grabbed the woman’s ass, squeezing it while licking a stripe across her neck.

“I’m gonna be sick.” She slurred towards Juice before jumping out of the seat and rushing out the front door.

She used the wall as support, her body bent at an awkward angle as she tried upchucking all the liquor in her stomach. All that came out however, was empty retches and slight whimpers. The cold air of the night tickled her bare arms, forcing her into a state of relaxation. Instinctively she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, only getting rid of a bit of saliva.

“Fuck.” She groaned before pressing her back into the wall, leaning fully against it.

Slowly, her eyes had fallen closed as she tried to force the nauseous feeling away. When the door of the clubhouse squeaked open, she only assumed it was Juice checking in on her. “I’m fine Juicey, just needed some air.”

“You don’t look good pussy cat.” Tig said with a rough drawl.

His voice twisted around her body, squeezing it and making her nerves hum to life. Peeling her lids open, she glanced somewhat in his direction. “Thanks.”

“Where’s your boy toy at?” He asked.

Y/N tensed before pushing off the wall, stumbling forward a bit. Blazing eyes darted to the curly-headed biker, stepping cautiously towards him. “Don’t start with me Trager, I have enough shit going on in my head. I don’t need any of your bullcrap.”

He dug his hands into the fronts of his jeans, only offering her a snort. “What shit do you have going on? Trying to decide which dick you want to ride tonight? Maybe you’ll move onto one of the other guys. Ya know, you can be all of our personal little slut.”

Even in her inebriated state, she knew an insult when she heard it. So, it was no surprise when she slammed her hand into his cheek, feeling the sting on her own flesh, she knew she had landed a good one. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that. You out of all people have no room to talk about being a slut, as you’re dry fucking out in the open for everyone to see. You have no idea what I’m dealing with, how I’m feeling.”

His jaw flexed as he rubbed the red, irritated skin of his cheek. Within an instant, he was grabbing her wrists and forcing her back against the wall, pinning her arms above her head with a firm pressure. She struggled against him, bucking around like a bronco, but his hold was too strong.

“Get the fuck off me.” She spat venomously.

“Why did you do it? Why did you ruin what we had? Was he worth it?” He growled in her face.

His sudden questions made her shrink back before rediscovering her voice. “What we had? You mean me being devoted to you, loving you, while you went and fucked whoever you wanted, while you just used me? It was clearly nothing special Tig, because if you loved me like you claimed, then our situation would have been completely different.”

There was an evident pain in the depths of his eyes, but he quickly shielded himself, unwilling to show an ounce of vulnerability.

“You moved on pretty fast though, I’d get back to the bitch waiting for you.” She grunted, trying to jerk her wrists from his hands.

This only made him tighten his hold, her face contorting into a wince as she sucked in a breath.

“Are you jealous?” He asked.

Her eyes rolled dramatically as if he had asked the question, he should have known the answer to. “No shit, just because I slept with Kozik doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. I’m just trying to figure out everything, I’m trying to do what’s best for me. I can’t keep being hurt, it’s not fair, and it’s not fair that I keep hurting either of you.” Her voice softened.

Tears slowly began welling up before pushing towards the corner of her eyes and dripping down her cheeks. “I’m sorry Tig, but let’s face it. We weren’t ever going to last, you’re wild and free and I enjoy that about you, but I’m not the one who’s gonna tame you. I’m not gonna be the one who makes you want to stop fucking everything with a pulse. I’m j-just sorry.”

He looked down at her face, concern briefly flashing across his visage as he watched her silently cry. She was clearly in pain, not physical, but emotional. She felt guilty for what she had done with Kozik, and it was noticeable. She wanted his forgiveness, even if she couldn’t have his whole heart. She could settle with that, to just be forgiven for her betrayal. Yet, he wanted to be forgiven to, he wanted to give her his whole heart.

All the emotions he had developed over the months, were terrifying. But only because they were real, because they came from a place inside of him that he thought had died off a long time ago. She wasn’t perfect, but neither was he, and he continuously had hurt even if she had never verbally said so.

He could always see the disappoint in her eyes when she found hickies on his body that didn’t belong to her. Or when he would openly flirt with numerous women in front of her, knowing damn well she wouldn’t leave. He had hurt over and over, and she had stayed. She didn’t give up on him, she didn’t call him names, she didn’t do anything, just accepted it because she knew who he was.

But he didn’t want to be like that anymore, he wanted her.

“I’m what’s best for you pussy cat.” He said before crushing his lips into hers.

Chapter 5

#samcro #soa #sons of anarchy #herman kozik #tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #juice ortiz #happy lowman #jax teller #opie winston #chibs telford #fanfic

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virgyvandijk · 4 years

Note

For that au idea, idk if it meant any ideas or juat your own. But if its any could you do a liverpool x peakyblinders/mafia style one if you don't mind?

this got so long i’m sorry it’s going to have to go under a cut

virgil’s father is the kingpin of a drugs gang that near enough rules the netherlands. they control what goes in, what goes out, and ron built the empire up from scratch, dating back to long before virgil was born

he was a flaky dad when virgil was a kid, but when he turned twelve, he disappeared completely. just upped and left without a trace, leaving a whole trail of destruction in his wake. eventually he got back in contact and left his number

when virgil got old enough, he realised what his dad actually did. it disgusted him, to be honest. made him feel sick, because he knew what happened down the production lines of drug gangs. he knew about the violence that so many innocent people inevitably faced, and he couldn’t believe his dad was a part of that

people still recognised him though, when he was in the right bars or even just walking on the right streets. they knew who he was and who his father was, and they’d stop him. sometimes it’d be compliments, sometimes anecdotes, and sometimes threats. he hated all of them

when he turned 18, all those people on the streets started asking him when he was going to follow in his dad’s footsteps. then it turned into trying to convince him to join, and it began to feel constant

the day after his 19th birthday, he packed a bag, kissed his mother goodbye, and moved to the uk. he had a friend in liverpool who had somewhere for him to stay and the offer of a job, so he got on the next flight out and started fresh

he set up a life in liverpool – a good one. he had a decent job as the head of security for concerts in the city, and moved into his own little flat, right near the docks. nobody recognised him, and that was absolutely perfect, it was a proper New Start

he met jordan through a friend of a friend of a friend at a house party and they hit it off straight away. he’d never been so attracted to someone after only speaking for them for a few minutes, and he wasn’t even nervous when he asked jordan if he’d like to go for lunch the next day, because he knew jordan was going to say yes

their dates were more often than not, every other day for the first week and then every day after that. they got on so well, just spent hours talking and laughing and getting to know each other. virgil didn’t think he’d ever met someone quite like jordan

it wasn’t long until they decided to move in together. they were together most of the time anyway, spending time at virgil’s flat away from jordan’s housemates, so it just made sense. they both had decent jobs and put together a considerable amount for a deposit on a house, and they moved in not even a month later

things were good. virgil knew that he’d found his forever and he was happy about it, settled in his own little house with his own little family (jordan and two cats), in a country where nobody knew about his father and what he did for a living

except, of course, things aren’t always that easy.

gini is the only person he still talks to from back home, because he moved to liverpool shortly after virgil did – after virgil told him how happy he was in the city. they’re inseparable by now, and virgil considers him a brother

they go out for dinner every tuesday (jordan leaves them to it, has a night in with the cats and a pizza), somewhere different each week. gini chooses the restaurant, because he’s much more exciting than virgil is, but that’s fine by virgil. he doesn’t need to be exciting, he enjoys his life as it is thank you

one tuesday, virgil parks somewhere in town and walks to the restaurant that gini suggested. he’s never been there before so he’s using google maps, head buried in his phone, and he quite literally bumps into someone heading up paradise street. he looks up, and he swears he recognises the bloke, but he can’t quite place him

before he can ask, the man speaks. his accent is dutch – the same recognisable region as virgil, and he grins, but it’s more evil than kind. says, “i know you – your dad is ron van dijk. expanding his business, are you?”

virgil tries to walk away, but the man calls him back. he says he’s got some information about his brother, about what he’s been up to. virgil didn’t even fucking know, but the man has some documents on his phone and virgil can’t deny it. his grin grows wider, and virgil wishes he could forget his next words completely

it’s a choice, that’s the thing. it’s a choice and he makes it, but it’s a choice between his brother’s entire life being ruined for a stupid little mistake that he made when he was a kid, or virgil running a few slightly illegal errands for some shady man. it’s a choice, and it’s one he makes willingly. not only is his baby brother’s wellbeing at stake, but also his own. he doesn’t know what he’ll do if hendo finds out about how shady his family is

but it gets out of hand. at first it’s just a few drops of packages that virgil determinedly doesn’t look into, because he knows he won’t like what he finds. he can do that, can just pretend it’s something different, that this stranger doesn’t have all the information in his pocket to ruin so many lives. the packages eventually turn into bigger requests – into violence. virgil has never been a violent person. he might be big, and some people might find his stature imposing, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly

the violence is where he draws the line. he tells the stranger that he’s not going to do it anymore, that he’s done what he asked and he’s done it perfectly, so there’s absolutely no reason for him to carry on

in hindsight, he probably should’ve been a little suspicious about how calm and casual the stranger was when he said that, but he was just so relieved that he didn’t think twice

he forgets about it. well, as much as he can – it still plays on his mind but days pass and turn into weeks, so he doesn’t think about it. it’s over, as far as he’s concerned, and now he wants to make his boyfriend a nice meal and spend quality time with him and the cats

he picks a friday night, when neither of them have got to be up in the morning. buys a nice bottle of wine and cooks jordan’s favourite meal, because he always finishes earlier than jordan does

except jordan doesn’t come home when he’s supposed to. virgil doesn’t hear the familiar crunch of his tires over the gravel in the driveway, or his keyrings clinking against each other. he doesn’t hear the familiar inflection of jordan’s accent shouting virgil’s name or the incomprehensible muttering about virgil leaving his trainers in the middle of the hall

at first he thinks jordan is just caught up at work, but then an hour turns into three, turns into five and the worry is gnawing at his stomach, making him nauseous. it doesn’t help that jordan isn’t answering any of his calls, either – no matter how many times he dials that familiar number

on the twenty second time he calls, the ringing stops and there’s silence. jordan has finally fucking picked up, and virgil snaps at him, asks him where he’s been and why the fuck isn’t he home, but the voice that answers isn’t jordan. the accent is dutch. familiar. virgil’s heart sinks into his stomach and tears prick at his eyes, because he should have known he wasn’t getting out of it this easily

his chest feels tight, breaths struggling to go in, but the stranger just laughs. tells virgil that he got what he deserved for thinking he’s the one in control here. tells virgil that if he doesn’t do as he’s told, his little boyfriend will die, and it won’t be quick and painless

virgil agrees, says that he’ll do whatever he wants, whatever he needs – as long as he doesn’t hurt jordan. that’s the only thing that matters

the stranger gives him instructions and hangs up. he sounds so smug that it makes fury boil in virgil’s veins and before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s scrolling through his contacts until he finds his father’s number. he’s not even sure why he kept it, but right now he’s glad. the nausea sets in while he listens to it ring, and he bites his tongue when his dad answers

“i fucking hate you,” he spits, means every word of it. “i hate you. i hate what you’ve done to me. you’ve ruined my life, you’ve ruined everything, and i will never, ever forgive you.”

“okay,” his dad replies, completely unfazed. virgil somehow hates him even more. “is that all you called for?”

“i’m in liverpool. where does your gang operate?” virgil asks, voice hard. he knows his father will give him an answer, because that’s the least he deserves. “they’ve taken my fucking boyfriend, ron. they’ve taken him and i won’t let them hurt him, so tell me where they’ve set up around here.”

ron does the only decent thing he’s ever done in his life, and tells virgil. he doesn’t even say goodbye before he hangs up and then he’s dialling the number for jordan’s dad. he’s a police officer – virgil needs the back up. he’s rational enough to know that he’s too emotional for this, and he’ll never forgive himself if jordan ends up hurt, or worse, because of him

he stands back and watches as armed police surround the warehouse. it’s nothing out of the ordinary, really – there are hundreds of empty buildings around the docks, and this one is no different. virgil has walked past it dozens of times and he didn’t think twice about it

he’s not really thinking twice about it now, to be honest. he just wants his jordan back, in his arms and in one piece, and his heart is hammering against his ribcage when the armed officers burst through the doors. jordan’s dad stands next to him, an arm around his shoulders, and he’s really surprised that he’s not blaming virgil

it feels like hours, days, but it’s probably only minutes before that familiar stranger is being dragged out. he’s glaring, and if looks could kill then virgil would be six foot under already, but he makes a point of not looking at him. instead, he watches a few other men being dragged out, ones that virgil vaguely recognises from his dad bringing them around when he was a kid

eventually, jordan is being helped out by an officer, and virgil’s knees almost buckle with relief. he’s got a few cuts and bruises, blood streaked through his hair, but he’s okay. that’s the main thing – he’s okay

he heads straight to virgil, not even blinking at the sight of his dad standing there, and throws his arms around his neck, shuddering out a sigh when virgil tightens his arms around jordan’s waist. it’s only been half a day since he’s had jordan’s skin under his hands but it felt like years, and he buries himself into the older man’s warmth, into his scent

“i’m okay,” jordan whispers, thumb stroking along virgil’s hairline at his temple. virgil still isn’t quite convinced though, and he guides jordan towards the ambulance that’s waiting and makes sure he gets checked over properly

he is okay, to which jordan mutters, i told you so, but still, virgil would rather be safe than sorry. he takes jordan home and then helps him up the stairs and into the shower, hesitating when jordan tells him that he’s okay, that he can manage to wash himself. still, he knows that jordan probably needs some space after what just happened to him, so he heads downstairs and lowers himself into an armchair

what just happened – fucking hell. jordan nearly died, and it was virgil’s fault. dragged him into this and didn’t even give him any warning. he had no idea who virgil’s dad was or what he did. he probably feels like he doesn’t even know who virgil is anymore, if anything he told him was true

he’s probably going to leave.

jordan is taking his time in the shower, and virgil manages to convince himself that he’s in their bedroom, packing a bag and trying to figure out how to tell virgil that he’ll come back for the rest of his stuff later. nothing would surprise him after the fucking mess he’s made of everything

when jordan comes back down, he’s dressed in a comfy pair of joggers and one of virgil’s hoodies, fingers tangled in the baggy sleeves of it as he pads across the living room. he says something, but virgil doesn’t even hear it, let alone reply

“virgil?” jordan asks, close enough that virgil has to snap out of his thoughts. he doesn’t look up from the floor, can’t bring himself to make eye contact, because he doesn’t deserve that. “i said, do you want a cup of tea?”

“if you’re going to leave me, can you just – not drag it out?” virgil says quickly, the words choked as they leave his mouth. the thought of it makes his heart beat twice as fast, tongue too big for his mouth, and he quickly wipes the tears away that have spilled over his cheeks.

jordan drops to his knees just as quickly, both hands coming up to frame virgil’s face. he lifts his head, makes him look at him, and whispers, “i’m not going anywhere, virgil.”

virgil blinks. he’s so confused. “even after all the lies? all the pain i’ve put you through? you could have died, jordan. it would have been my fault,” he says.

“no,” jordan says, shaking his head. his thumb traces along virgil’s bottom lip carefully. “i love you, and that means i love all of you. even the parts that have a shitty excuse of a man for a father. even the parts that you haven’t told me about. i love you, and that means i’m all in.”

virgil can’t help it. he bursts into tears, sobs wracking through his entire body. he’s never felt unconditional love like this before, because even his mother was half terrified he’d turn out like his father, but jordan doesn’t see any of that. jordan sees virgil, and nobody else

jordan slides his arms around virgil’s shoulders and pulls him in close, for a tight hug. he lets him cry it out for as long as he needs, shushing him gently, and doesn’t say a word when virgil falls silent

that’s unconditional love. it means more to virgil than he could ever describe.

send me an au and i’ll give you headcanons

#anon #asks #vh #lucy writes

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danetobelieve · 4 years

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That’s Fext. || Luce and Winston

The sword was forged. Winston had their stuff with them. Extra snacks incase they had to do magic, though they knew that there was nothing that they could actually do to the Fext, but maybe their magic could come in handy in other ways. They had agreed to try and do it after hours. The school looked mostly empty and to their good fortune Mr. Blume was apparently working late. Pausing outside of the double doors that would lead down to the classroom that Winston expected him to be in, they paused, swallowed and looked at Luce. “Are you ready?” They fully hated themselves for suggesting this. Being bait had seemed like a much better idea a few days ago but now that they were actually doing it they weren’t sure that this was as good idea as they thought. But there was no turning back now. “I think I’ve got everything and the plan is that I’ll get his attention and draw him out of the classroom and into the hallway, probably would be a good idea if we can get him outside but if you can behead him right away I’ll ask questions later.”

Luce glanced around the school, the long tube of her carrying case patting against her shoulder as she walked alongside Winston. Inside, the glass sword was safely nestled in a pile of packing peanuts. She trusted their magic, but she also didn’t want to take any chances with the sword shattering inside the case. Plus, she couldn’t just waltz into the high school with a fucking sword. As they came to a halt outside Mr. Blume’s office, Luce did a couple quick stretches, rotating her shoulders forwards and back. “Gimme a second.” She said and extracted the sword from the tube, brushing off a few of the stray packing peanuts with her hand. “No sweat. Just a,” She gave a preliminary swing, at neck height, “Quick decapitation. Super cool, nice and easy.” Luce said with a grin. But, for all her bravado, she wasn’t entirely sure how this would all shake out. Mr. Blume had exhausted the fuck out of her when they’d last run into him. They needed to take him out, on the first try. “We could try that Zombieland move? You know, where the dude acts as bait, runs, yells “Now!” and then knee slides outta range? So you don’t get a face full of glass sword too?”

Luce seemed to be taking this all in her stride much better then Winston felt that they were. Then again Luce hadn’t volunteered themselves to be a sacrificial lamb for the proverbial slaughter. Winston was sure that Luce would never let anything happen to them but one thing that they had learned after potentially risking their life hundreds of times was that things never went the carefully and meticulously planned way that Winston insisted it had to go. “No rush,” Winston was in no rush. Right now they could’ve happily stood outside of this door all night. “Super cool, nice and easy.” Winston repeated as they felt their palms feel sweaty. “Oh, I’ve never done a movie sequence move in real life, that sounds like a really good idea, I don’t know if I can do a Jesse Eisenberg knee slide quite as well but I can try.” They placed their hand on the handle of the door. They felt nauseous but they were convinced that they weren’t going to repeat their mistake with Nic and throw up everywhere. “Ready whenever you are and we can try and zombieland this up…” they weren’t going to be sick, they weren’t going to be sick.

“For sure. And hey,” Luce locked eyes with them, before putting a hand on their shoulder for a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. We’re gonna fuck Mr. Blume’s shit up and it’s gonna be okay. We’re doing a good thing, getting rid of this fucker.” She said, though those words more to reassure herself than them. She wasn’t keen on the idea of murder, even if Mr. Blume was no longer technically alive. He might be a Fext now, but she remembered him as the kind, if bumbling chemistry teacher from her high school years. “Totally. Hey, does this make me Tallahassee? I can roll with that.” She grinned, shaking out her arms for one final time, the gesture doing little to ease the nerves that coiled in her stomach. They had this. They totally had this. Gripping the pommel of the sword, Luce nodded at Winston. “Let’s do this thing.”

Locking eyes with Luce, Winston felt a little better and with their resolve reassured they bobbed their head in a nod. “For sure, I know that you’ve got my back, just wish it wasn’t Mr. Blume but then again somehow i don’t think that is the same Mr. Blume as it was back in school.” They paused for a moment longer and once Luce was happy with everything, they wrenched the door open and pulled it open to find themselves looking straight at Mr. Blume who appeared to be grading some sort of quiz, Winston didn’t miss those and decided that they would do everyone a favour. Pulling back their arm, they flicked it forward and hurled a stink bomb that they had made back at the Scribe HQ. It wasn’t difficult, mixing aeasily two chemicals in a vial and sealing it. Mr. Blume seemed to know they were going to do this as their hand snapped up and caught the vial without it breaking. Winston made eye contact with it and in that moment was all the more convinced that this wasn’t something that was Mr. Blume anymore. He had no life in those eyes, backing away, Winston bolted towards the door hoping that Luce was ready.

As soon as Winston walked into that room, Luce’s nerves were on high alert. The second they came out of that room, she was going to swing and hopefully knock this fucker into the next plane of existence. He’d once been a spellcaster, just like them. But, he used dark magic, that was why he was still here, still kicking on the world. Power hungry and using innocent witches to fuel his undead life. As soon as Winston ran out of the room, Luce swung the sword with all her might. But, as fast as she was, Mr. Blume was faster. With an almost blindly fast movement, he dodged out of the way, ducking easily under the glass blade that she only barely had time to pull back before it could smash into the doorframe. “Shit!” She yelled, just in time for Mr. Blume to pull back his leg and kick her square in the gut. The air rushed out of her lungs as she was sent flying down the hallway, sliding across the waxed floors. The glass sword skittered on the ground away from her as she lay there, dazed. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Barrelling through the door, Winston went to their knees and skidded across the highly polished floor of their former high school. But there was a thud and then a clatter and then the transparent blade was skidding across the floor of the hallway and spinning over and over again as Luce was attacked by Mr. Blume. Swallowing, they dragged themselves up to their feet and looked around. “Hey, leave her alone,” Winston knew that magic on Mr. Blume was going to be as useful as butter versus a hot knife and so they tried to be as ingenious as they possibly could. Looking around, they spotted a locker, the door was behind Mr. Blume’s head as they faced Luce and Winston forced the locker to exploded outwards, the door slamming into the back of Mr. Blume’s head and knocking him to the floor. Sweat glistened on Mr. Blume’s forehead as Winston locked eyes with Luce. “Same plan, I’ll distract him.” They turned to Mr. Blume and waved their middle finger at them. “Hey, fucker, I didn’t do my chemistry homework.” Winston lied, they had always done their homework.

Still winded, Luce watched as Winston did their best to hold back Mr. Blume with a frankly smart fucking use of magic. It was better than her “toss a fireball” tactic. Fuck, this is why they were the brainy one, wasn’t it? Forcing herself to her feet, Luce grabbed the sword from the ground and assumed an offensive position. Holding up the sword, she waited for Winston to bait Mr. Blume again. But, as the fext rose, tossing the destroyed locker away with ease, a chill ran down her spine as he stared at her. He might not be human anymore, but he still had his smarts. Fucking christ. The dark eyes of his were trained on her as Mr. Blume lifted the crumpled door of the locker before hurling it at her and Winston. “Duck!” She yelled and dodged out of the way, doing her best to keep the glass sword out of the way.

It was a good thing that Luce was an experienced witch AND knew how to wield a sword. Winston was entirely convinced that they would’ve died without them there and as Luce got ready to fight once more, Winston spotted Mr. Blume tear away a locker door and hurl it in their direction. Luce was fast, she zipped out of the way of the door. Winston was still trying to process the word duck when the locker door slammed into their chest and threw them crumbling into a locker. Coughing, they winced at what felt like some very bruised ribs but they hadn’t heard a crack or crunch and so they were pretty sure nothing was broken. “Ow fuck that hurt,” they adjusted their glasses which were hanging off of their face just in time to see Mr. Blume charging towards them, “ah fuck fuck fuck.” They acted instinctively, shooting a thin sheen of ice onto the polished floor, sending Mr. Blume slipping and sliding past them as they lost their footing on the ice.

Luce winced as she heard the slam of the door smashing into Winston, smacking them against a row of lockers. Watching in horror as Mr. Blume lunged for them, she was relieved when they managed to get a layer of ice on the ground. Ice. Slick-- water. They could use it to their advantage. She glanced up at the sprinkler system above them for a moment and grinned, sending a small fireball up at the sprinkler head with a flick of her finger. In an instant, the fire alarms were blaring, but more importantly, water began to pour from the ceiling. Running at Mr. Blume, her thick soled boots gripped what bits of dry floor there was left as she slashed with the sword. “Get fucked!” She growled as the blade made contact, biting into the flesh of his shoulder. Dammit. Just too short of his head. But, the blade held strong. It didn’t shatter. Instead, it was smeared with black blood. “C’mon, come at me bro!” She shouted, gesturing for Mr. Blume to shift focus from Winston to her.

Horrified by the situation, Winston watched as Luce and Mr. Blume grappled. Sprinklers doused the three of them and Winston wondered if Luce had a plan, then it occurred to them that they could probably do more to help Luce with all of this. As Luce’s sword cut into the Fext’s shoulder, black blood dripped into the water and Winston darted inside of the office and began rummaging through the cabinet of science supplies, looking for anything that they could use to hook up to a power source. “Luce, I know you don’t need encouragement on keeping Mr. Blume busy, but if you can buy me some time I’ve got an idea for something that could maybe become Plan B. Just please don’t get hurt.” They were babbling as they worked, pulling small lengths of wire that they had once used to create circuits and beginning to jerry rig everything together.

Mr. Blume lunged at her, arms outstretched. And, though Luce tried to block with the flat of the blade, she was only able to stop one of his arms. The other hand, curled into a fist, collided with her side in an agonizing, bruising blow. She fell to one knee, gasping, but kept the blade level. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Winston run past them and she made out a few of the words shouted back at her. “Got it-- go!” She grunted as she swiped the sword out at Mr. Blume’s legs, hoping to knock him off balance. But, the creature’s keen reflexes tipped him off to the motion and he skirted out of the way from her blade before bringing his knee up to crack into Luce’s face, hitting her square in the nose. A gush of blood, hot and burning, streamed down her face as she staggered backwards. But, it took more than a kick to the nose to keep a good witch down. Forcing herself to stand, she held the sword aloft before swinging it once more, slicing through the chemistry teacher’s hand. The hand fell into the growing puddles on the floor, covering the hallway with a growing puddle of inky black blood.

Winston could hear the impact of Mr. Blume hitting Luce and they were forced to work harder. Connecting and jerry rigging the wires together, they used their teeth to strip away the plastic coating and expose the copper wire before twisting it together Using the plastic they’d stripped away from the wires, Winston hooked everything up to a power source and was pleased to see that there appeared to be a good amount of power running through this thing. You could call it watts, or amps, or volts. Winston didn’t care right now. All they cared about was the disproportionate amount of blood that was pouring down from Luce’s face. They needed to act fast before she got anymore hurt. This was all Winston’s fault. If they had planned all of this better then things wouldn’t have been able to have gone wrong and Winston wasn’t going to have to explain to the Vurals what had happened to their sister. “Ready! Can you get him in here?”

Mr. Blume let out an ungodly howl in her face as he stumbled backwards, clutching the stump where his hand once was. In his eyes, Luce could see pure unadulterated malice burning at her. Leaning towards her, the once mild-mannered chemistry teacher snarled at her, “I will feast on your magic, on theirs, and then, I will come for your sisters. One by one. The coven will fall.” Luce’s blood, once burning against her face, ran cold at his words. Rage and fear mingled together in a heady concoction of emotion, spurring on a new shot of adrenaline that carried her across the hallway, sword blade poised to strike. She slashed, wildly, but they were sloppy, driven by emotion rather than thought. She had to calm down if they wanted to kill him, she knew that. But he’d threatened Winston, threatened her sisters, threatened her family. “Not. Fucking. Likely.” She growled before coming in close to grip the front of Mr. Blume’s collared shirt tightly. “I got him!” Luce yelled at Winston before spinning in a tight motion to maneuver them both into the hallway of the chemistry room. With a grunt, she shoved her foot into the small of his back and kicked the fext into the lab.

Appalled at what they had just heard, Winston took a deep breath. They needed to try and be as calm as possible because they weren’t even sure that this was going to work and if it was going to work it was going to work because they did it right. Luce looked hurt and Winston didn’t want this to go on anymore then it had to. As Mr. Blume was knocked stumbling towards Winston, they stepped forwards and drove the wires into Mr. Blume. They had been careful to not touch anything that could conduct anything towards them but there was still a moment of terror. The electricity almost seemed to arc before their very eyes, though Winston doubted that was actually possible. Mr. Blume stood rigidly as the currents ran through them, the lights in the high school flickered but remained bright. “The head Luce…” Winston prayed this worked.

Watching as Winston ran up, calm as anything, she saw the strange little makeshift taser in their hands. Luce watched, hoping, praying, that it would work. They just needed the right opportunity to get the fext vulnerable and if this didn’t work, she didn’t know what would. When Winston’s device made contact, Mr. Blume went rigid, locked tight and still. That was all she needed. Without a word, hate and rage and anger drove her sword through the air. She sliced through his neck. The blade passed through tendons and flesh like it was butter, smooth as anything. There was no horrific scream, no terrible howl of a monster vanquished. The sound of the fire alarms, still blaring, were all that she heard as Mr. Blume’s head fell to the ground with a dull thud, his body following suit. Panting, blood still rolling down her face, Luce looked over at Winston. “You okay? Are you good?”

Completely soaked by the sprinklers that had undoubtedly drenched the entire school, Winston watched as Mr. Blume’s body slumped down and crumpled, before beginning to dissolve along with the rest of their suit. “Yeah,” Winston let out a long exhale and ran their hands through their hair, water trickling down the lenses of their glasses, “yeah I think I’m all good, are you?” Shifting from one foot to the other, Winston heard their shoes squelch and looked around them and then back up at Luce. “You really took a beating there, we should go before someone finds us and we should get you cleaned up because that looks … not great.”

Luce leaned against one of the tables in the lab, her heart pounding as she watched Mr. Blume turn to dust. In a moment, it was almost as though he had never been there, like none of this had happened. But, the black-tinged puddles that lay before them said otherwise. As her breathing slowed, Luce glanced over at Winston. “Huh? I’m fine--” The words caught in the back of her throat as she touched her nose, a sharp stab of pain running through her. “Agh. Ah.” Gingerly touching her face, she wiped some of the blood that had run down her mouth and chin. “My nose-- he broke my fucking-- we gotta get outta here.” She nodded, the motion sending a further wave of pain across her face. Shit.

Winston reached around them and pulled a tiny backpack off of their back, rummaging haphazardly through it, they pulled out a towel that they had brought for this exact situation. “Here, use this to stop the bleeding and I’ll lead the way,” Winston needed to get Luce to the hospital and then they were going to need to try and think of an alibi for them both tonight just in case anyone had been watching them. “You were really fucking bad ass with that sword, you should give it a name and you should definitely keep it, because that was actually really cool.”

#p: luce #para #wickedswriting #that's fext.#chatzy #chatzy para

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