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friendlylocalwhumper · 3 months

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continuation of this piece.

The car crashed into the house. Quinn figured out it was going to just a little too late.

It’s not as dark as they expected it to be, once they crack their eyes open. Light streams through gaps between chunks of wall. They aren’t pinned, exactly, but stuck in a space just big enough to breathe in.

They don’t know where Major is.

He was standing right before it happened, farther in the house than they were by ten feet. He could be dead. Their eyes widen and breaths catch as they picture Major dead, sprawled and crushed somewhere in here. Or worse, he might not be dead, but unfixable.

They passed out for a while, they think. But no one has found them. Outside it sounds quieter than before, like the riot is over, but no one has checked on the house renovated by a car driving into it, so it must be just as gory out there. Maybe no one will come at all.

It hurts. Everything. A general throbbing ache, and exhaustion that makes it difficult to care much about moving. It feels safer to just stay still and hope that this will somehow get better. Their neck could be broken and they might not know it. Their skull. Something could be wrong with their spine. Quinn can think of a hundred reasons to just lie still and keep breathing. When they dare to look hard at the cramped space around them, they can see all the instability. All the spots where a shift of debris could mean that it would all shift and suddenly Quinn would not be alive anymore.

Eventually, waiting doesn’t feel like the best option anymore. The air isn’t getting any easier to breathe, dust floating around lazily. It coats their throat and the ache of fighting down coughs is getting harder to ignore. Quinn bends bony limbs to test their joints and run crooked hands across their own body in search of blood. Oh, there, at their back - they whine when they first find the sore spot, then the sound erupts into a scream as they twist further to find that glass is sticking out of their back.

Then comes a miracle. A voice, his voice, muffled but close. “Shut up. Shut up I’m focusing.”

They need help. The glass, they don’t know how deep it goes, and they’re trapped and he’s a healer. Major sounds fine, he sounds more annoyed than anything. Quinn tries to get a grip on the shard of window in their back, but their fingers are slippery with blood and all they manage is to make themself whimper in pain.

It’s hard to find a decent angle for it, but they wedge their shoulder up against a bar of wood and shove upward. Push, push, push - the wood gives way, but then dust rains down and Quinn finds themself sprawling facedown, pinned worse. When they cry out this time, their voice is weaker, more airy, as their nails dig into the floor.

“I’m over here,” They whisper, breath stolen by how hopeless this is. Moving anything could mean the building collapses worse. Major has to come to them. Their back burns from the incision and they’re praying that the glass didn’t go any farther in.

“...Okay?” Major grumbles. “I’m not focusing on getting to you, bitch.”

He’s not… even trying to get to them? A soft upset sound escapes their throat before they can stop it. “Wha-at? Why?”

“I’m fucking close. Shut up. Shut up.” It sounds like he’s trying to move, but not managing to make it far at all. And then he starts choking, coughing, and Quinn holds very still as if distracting him would be enough to kill him. “Ha! Got it! There’s one more chip in there. It’s gonna be so fucking good.”

Something’s wrong. He’s a dumbass, but not that bad. He might think he’s trying to get at his bag of chips but Quinn doubts that that is still anywhere near him. And it definitely isn’t a priority right now. Does he even know what happened, that he’s trapped? He might not be as fine as he sounds.

“Are you, Major, are you… trying to find your chips?”

He doesn’t answer. There is a sound like a mouse sneaking through a cupboard. He’s actually reaching, trying to get at that bag. A new urgency settles over Quinn’s mind and they start delicately, slowly pushing against the debris pinning them, crawling forward at every possible opportunity. Sometimes the crevice they force their way into is too small, but they just keep pushing. Something is wrong with Major, they need to see.

“Major, are you looking for the bag of chips?” They repeat, closer to him now. They see his shoe. It’s not on him. He must’ve flown right out of them when he was knocked back.

“Yeah. Trying.” His voice is so close. Quinn twists to try to protect the glass in their back and dips around a beam, strands of hair hanging in their eyes.

“Can you stop?” They try, analyzing the wall of shattered brick between them and him. Scraped fingers begin peeling away at the stone until they get a hole big enough to climb precariously through.

Major growls, and Quinn frowns in worry, finally close enough to see his shoulder. “I - fuck, I fucking can now, you made me lose it,” He complains, utterly distracted. The space that they carved out for themself changes shape just slightly, a wooden beam sinking. It’s about where Major’s face ought to be, and - yes, they can see his face now, if they squint just right against the headlight glaring at them. “The fuck?” Major croaks, and Quinn snaps a hand up to try to catch the wood, if it’s hurting him. “Fuck, FUCK!”

Both hands on the beam, then, they decide, their knees taking the weight painfully as they struggle to balance on the brick they’re kneeling on. The beam is heavy but they have to lift it, it’s pressing down on Major’s cheek. His skull could be crushed in an instant.

“Don’t move,” They instruct, certain that he already knows they’re here. His eyes are open, and their own face is just inches away, after all. But he flinches hard, and twists to claw at the wood on his face like he just figured out that it’s there. They have to wedge their bloody fingers between the beam and his cheek and pull up, their whole body trembling with the effort.

“Stop moving.” Quinn really needs him to just settle down and let them work the limited leverage they have. But he kicks and their eyes shoot to look at his leg, paranoid that he’ll knock out some kind of delicately balanced pile of debris. It takes a moment of squinting in that direction to recognize the blood spreading under bricks where his leg is supposed to be, where that kick just happened.

The broken windowsill in their fingers is trying to slip. Frustrated, they push up harder and ignore the leg thing for now. Finally they get the sill up off Major’s face and push their knee against him to try to make him tip his head away.

“I was just gonna get the chip,” He complains, and Quinn shakes their head, incredulous. He’s still talking about the chips. “And then fuckin’ find you. Weren’t you, aren’t you hurt?”

Finally, they can drop the sill. Frustration flashes across his face when they do, and as they pant and stare at him, they see how out of it he is. His face is swollen purple on the right, and he won’t look right at them. His left arm is at his side, crooked. His right arm is pinned to his chest under stone, so they’re pretty sure he never really did reach for the chip bag, he just imagined it. Or worse, he didn’t feel his broken arm as he tried to move it and reach. If his legs are still legs, Quinn can’t see them, and he isn’t twisting in pain so they think maybe he doesn’t feel anything at all. It reeks of blood in here, and Quinn is hurt, but not that hurt.

Dizzy with the sight of him, they bend forward and rest their arms on him a moment, head hanging. “Not as bad as you are,” They answer grimly.

Major laughs. They keep asking questions, and he does sound fine still, but he so obviously isn’t. He can’t see, he can’t feel things. Quinn tries to get him to heal himself and he just won’t - maybe his magic is hurt, maybe something in his head is so that there’s a disconnect. Either way, his condition won’t improve before they get out of here.

And then he starts crying. He doesn’t even know he is, flinching and complaining as they wipe the big tears from his eyes and cheeks. Quinn’s jaw wobbles, their determination wavering, as his chest hitches with little sobs that he isn’t aware of.

“It’s okay,” They promise gently, and he just says things like, “I fucking know,” and “Just start moving shit so I can get up.” He doesn’t know it’s still collapsing. And that he might not even be able to sit up. Quinn just keeps soothing him, even if he hates it, while he cries cluelessly.

When he finally asks, “Am I fucked up?” Quinn nearly giggles hysterically. They fold down instantly to press their cheek to his, holding him in a very cautious hug. He’s whimpering low in his throat, and they keep checking on the worst injuries, but he doesn’t make any awful sounds then Quinn touches them.

“Give me a few minutes to catch my breath and I’ll… start digging us out,” They promise. He seems bewildered as if they just invited him to a tea party. Hesitantly they run a hand down his face, and he flinches again, closing his eyes finally. They think the headlights are hurting his eyes, making him tear up more. Or maybe they just need him to look like he isn’t seeing by choice right now.

A few hours later, they finally have him most of the way out. It must be very bad for his injuries to have been dragged like he was, but there was no other choice. Their tremors are constant now, their strength pushed to its limits. Quinn plants their heels in the ground and heaves again, arms wrapped under his armpits and around his chest, his head tipped back at their shoulder.

He started screaming at some point, then abruptly stopped. He’s been quiet since. Quinn pulls harder, eyes shut so they don’t have to see his legs. It doesn’t matter how mangled he might be. Doesn’t even matter if he’s dead right this second. He has to get pulled out, and then they can see what’s what.

He’s free with one final lurch, and Quinn flops back, arms out at their sides, Major on top of them. It’s hard to breathe. They have no idea if the glass in their back fell out or went all the way in. They need a rest. They have to hold still and try to breathe.

Major jerks, and their eyes fly open. Is he awake? Is he alive, or was that his final twitch? He jerks again, and it’s a relief for one second before terror dawns. They can’t handle an awake Major right now.

He sucks in a big breath. They feel his ribcage expanding. And then he howls, twisting off of them to roll onto the sidewalk, hands flexing and grabbing onto the curb as he snaps his head down to bang it into the concrete.

“No,” Quinn croaks, flipping onto their side to stretch and throw their hand there before he can bang his head again. His face smashes into their palm and Quinn chokes back a cry of pain.

He is wailing, clawing, trying in stops and starts to crawl away and then to hold perfectly still. It seems the delirious, odd calm from earlier is over. Maybe now that he isn’t pinned anymore, now that the blood is flowing, he lost the miraculous numbness.

“It’s okay,” Quinn forces out uselessly, crawling closer and rolling him onto his back. Major’s face is striped with tears and his teeth are bared. He’d like to kill them, they think, but he can’t. He’s struggling just to keep sucking down breaths. “It’s okay, Major. You can heal it. Just heal it.” They snatch up his hand and show it to him, as if that’ll make him understand, before they grab at one of his legs, bend it up closer to his chest, and press his hand to it. They won’t look down, but it’s hot and sticky. “Heal it, Major. Your hand’s there.”

His mouth is wide, his eyes squeezed shut, his head thrown back. They can tell how loud each sob is going to be by how hard his chest rises for the breath he sucked in. Quinn squeezes his wrist harder. “Heal it. Major, your magic. Make it work.”

He feels like he’s dying. He probably is. The pain must be unbearable. As their eyes find every injury on him and all the signs that he cannot listen, the world grows colder. The color desaturates. This is easy, Quinn thinks, focusing hard. He has to use his magic. He has to listen.

Quinn lowers themself so that their forehead tips to his. He’s screaming right in their face but they don’t listen, don’t flinch from his roars. Mind magic spills out of them, invisible but strong coming from so close. All at once, Major’s screaming stops. The tears keep flowing, his lost eyes open now.

Magic pours from his hand almost immediately. His leg cracks, shifts, changes shape. Quinn ignores the movement and stares into his unseeing eyes. “You just have to listen,” They whisper, guiding him by twisting his emotions into the right shape and reminding him with words what he should be doing. “Keep healing. Cry to vent the pain and keep healing.”

His magic starts to run out right around when his legs look like legs again, and it’s hard to let him stop. Quinn wants him all better, all in one piece, seeing and able to walk and in no pain at all. But there is fresh bright blood under his nose, and his breathing is getting worse, not better. He would obey and use his magic to death if they forced him to, they think, so Quinn allows him to stop. They pull back, brushing his hair out of his face, and stop the mind magic.

He’s still in too much pain to tell what happened. Major’s teeth clench and he starts whining in agony again, clutching at their torn shirt.

“It’s okay,” They remind, pulling him up so carefully and tucking his head against their shoulder. “It’s okay. Take a break. We got out and it’s gonna be okay.”

#whump #drabble #mine #quinn #major #building collapse #blood #gore #it's all kind of vague but still somewhat crunchy #magical healing #mind magic #but not the creepy whumper kind of mind magic

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whumpacabra · 2 months

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Day 26: “Help them.”

Military setting, triage situation, loss of a limb, explosion, building collapse, field medicine, blood loss, loss of consciousness, execution, dehumanization, death of unnamed characters, firearm use, tobacco use [smoking], referenced suicide bombing, referenced fire

Wolf’s body moved before he processed what had happened. The explosion, it’s source - none of that mattered right now, not with his hands clamped around the stub of an arm while he tried to drag a man away from the debris.

“What are you doing?” His CO’s voice was something between amused confusion and frustrated annoyance. “Any left probably escaped out the back, go with Vern and…”

Wolf was tuning out his superior’s voice, consumed by the struggling gasps of the man below him. He couldn’t have been much older than Wolf - if anything, he was younger, soft face stained with soot and blood and tears. His eyes were screwed shut in pain, sobs wracking his body while Wolf secured a tourniquet just above his elbow.

“You hear me soldier? We - ”

There was a scream, somewhere in the rubble, young and feminine. She was begging - from somewhere half crushed under cement and support beams - asking for her daughter. Wolf couldn’t hear any reply to her agonized cries over the roar of blood in his ears and the crackle of fire. He looked to his CO, abject desperation clearly written on his face.

“What are you doing? Help them.” He nodded to the rubble, frustration and denial creeping into his expression. The young man under his hands had fallen unconscious, still bleeding profusely from his severed arm. Wolf flinched as a hand yanked at the collar of his vest, dragging him up and away from the injured man. “What - sir, they need medical attention - ”

His CO unceremoniously shot the young man in the head, blood spatter and brain matter leaking pink and red across the dusty concrete. Wolf froze, shocked to stillness. And still the woman’s cries persisted, begging for help, for her daughter to reply.

“I gave you an order, soldier.” The soldier’s voice was even, cold and quiet as he turned to Wolf. “Go to Vern and sweep the back of the building.”

“He could have survived - ”

“He could have pulled the pin on this grenade and killed both of you.” His CO snarled as he kicked the dead man’s chest, the grenade rattling from where it hung. “I don’t give orders for my health, boy, I give them for yours. Now go - ”

“They will die if we don’t help them!” Wolf gestured to the still smoldering rubble, the woman’s screams having dissolved into wailing sobs.

“They should have thought of that before shacking up with a suicide bomber. Now do as you are told.”

“They’re people, sir. I can’t just - ”

“They’re animals, Haas. The only help we can give them is to put them out of their misery.”

Wolf stared at him a few breaths before realizing his CO truly believed that. His voice came thin and hoarse, shaky with anger and disgust.

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Oh, you did. Give it a few months, you’ll understand.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not the first bleeding heart medic I’ve had.” His CO’s eyes were harsh, appraising. “When we get back to base camp you’ll be properly disciplined. We have work to do. Now let’s go.”

The woman’s cries had silenced, only the sound of fires smoldering low and the shifting rubble under their feet. Wolf walked forward, nausea curdling in his gut as he listened to his CO light a cigarette behind him. The stench of tobacco couldn’t hide the smell of burning flesh.

[Before Wolf Downed]

(Part of my Freelancers: Swansong series)

Taglist: @stargeode

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starliight-whump · 4 months

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Collapse

@whumpcember Day 26: Collapse

Oops I completely forgot to ost this. But here's some superhero James collapsing from exhaustion after overusing his powers!

“Hurry!” James followed his teammates and the civilians they were leading out of the slowly crumbling building, carrying an injured woman in his arms. He was nearly outside when he heard more screaming from behind them and horror went through him. There were still people in the building. A building that was threatening to fall apart any moment.

“Take her, there are still people inside!” James handed the woman over to one of his teammates.

“Zenith, we have to get out of here! There’s no time! The building is falling apart!” As if to underline their words, a big part of the ceiling broke off and shattered as it hit the ground; which caused more screaming from the people still in the building, coming down the stairs in the far corner of the room.

“Get out, I’ll buy them some time!” James turned and raised his hands and let his power flow.

“That's crazy, you can't…” “Yes, I can, just do it!” Blue glow swirled around his hands and wrapped around the ceiling and walls. James rarely used his powers to this magnitude and it quickly began sapping his strength. The people made their way down the stairs and one of his teammates ran back into the building to help them.

More cracks ran across the ceiling causing dust to fall down, and the stairs creaked ominously. No! It had to hold until everyone was out, it had to! James grit his teeth and focused harder. His eyes glowed blue and he started trembling with exertion, and he was so focused on his task of keeping the building from collapsing that he didn't even notice how warm blood ran from his nose. The world seemed to blur in front of him, and despite his best efforts the blue of his power seemed to flicker and the building began collapsing faster and faster. But at least the last couple of people ran past him.

“Zenith, let's go!”

James looked over at the blurry appearance of his teammate, and before he could fully comprehend what they were saying, he was dragged through the exit of the building. That broke the last bit of concentration he had and as his power faded, the building rapidly collapsed.

There was a faint ringing in James' ears as he stared at the crumbling building, swaying slightly. He was so tired.

“Zenith, Zenith!” James looked over at his teammates and the movement made the whole world spin, and suddenly he realized there was something warm, sticky under his nose. He brought his hand up to touch it, and once he pulled it away he could see that his glove was covered in red. Oh. He looked up at his teammates and darkness crawled at the edges of his vision. “I- I don't feel so good…” James managed to mumble before his legs gave in and he collapsed from exhaustion.

@mirasmirages @darkredrevolution

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meraki24601 · 9 months

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*bangs aggresivly on door*

FBI open up! Drop all your weapons and put yours hands up . we brought reinforcements. Now follow us and leave all your belongings where they are except for your laptop. We need a part 3 to muted.

I surrender! It took me longer than I had hoped, but to everyone asking for part 3 to Muted, here it is!

Part 1, Part 2

-----------*-***-*-----------

Muted Part 3

Hero slept nearly 4 hours without any nightmares. Something they hadn’t done, by their estimate, for around 10 years. They hadn’t even screamed or flinched when they woke up.

Villain rested peacefully next to them. They were lying with a respectful distance between them, but their fingers were tightly woven with Hero’s. Villain twitched slightly as Hero shifted but didn’t wake. With care they haven’t been allowed to use for a while, Hero released Villain’s hand and slipped out of the bed.

This was it. The moment Villain woke and had some breakfast, they were running away. Away from Superhero. Away from Supervillain. As far away as they could go. Hero only had one suitcase, but it would have to be enough. Clothes, food, and first aid. Hero’s medical backpack wasn’t super flashy, so they could probably take that instead of taking up room in the suitcase.

Having already barely escaped with their life once, Villain didn’t have any clothes they could bring with them. Some of Hero’s smaller shirts might fit well enough, and they can bring several belts to hold the pants on until they have the opportunity to buy some that actually fit. If they’re quick, they might even be able to get Ally to make some false paperwork for them to leave the country.

As Hero zipped up their suitcase to take it downstairs to gather food, they heard a small noise behind them. Villain was awake and watching them with tears in their eyes. Shifting back so they could rest against the headboard, Villain signed, “We’re leaving? You weren’t lying?”

Sighing deeply, Hero signed back, “As long as you’re willing to try. I swear, I don’t know how much I can do, but I will do everything I can to keep you safe.”

“I’ve always liked road trips.” Villain laughed softly. “What can I do to help?”

“There’s a change of clothes and bandages in the bathroom. Wash up. If you can rewrap your wounds, I’ll make breakfast and pack food and toiletries. We can be out of here before my next check-in at 10.” Hero helps Villain rise from the bed, “I… I’m still so sorry for what I did to you.”

“Nevermind that, Moonlight. What’s done is done.”

“Moonlight?”

“I’ve always loved the Moon. The whole world is dark, but despite it all, there’s a small ray of light. No one has ever tried to help me before. No one but you has shone any light in my life.” Villain scratches the back of their head, “Is… is that alright?”

Hero’s grin could have rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s. “Only if I can call you Honeybee.”

Villain giggled, “Why Honeybee?”

“I’ll save my reasoning for later if you don’t mind. Now, get ready. We don’t have much time.” Hero pushes Villain toward the connected bathroom before slipping quickly out the bedroom door. They took a moment, joy filling their heart, then ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

There, leaning casually against the kitchen counter with two of Hero’s favorite mugs were Superhero and Supervillain.

Hero didn’t hesitate. Immediately, they drew on their power and prepared to shout for Villain to run. Hero wasn’t strong enough to take on Superhero, much less Superhero and Supervillain. They were going to die, but maybe Villain could make it out if they jumped out the window. All they had to do was warn them.

Too late. Before Hero had taken a full breath, Supervillain was behind them. Supervillain’s hand wrapped firmly around Hero’s throat, cutting off their cry. “Ah ah ah. None of that now, little traitor. Villain will be joining us soon enough. Let them finish their shower. Your friend Sidekick was all too eager to help them finish quickly.”

A small gasp of “why” is all Hero can squeeze past Supervillain’s hand. Superhero laughs as Hero struggles slightly, quickly growing desperate for air. “You gave us something we could fight against. Something we both hate more than each other.” Superhero growls as they slam Hero’s cup on the counter.

“Sweet little traitors like you and my darling Villain.” Supervillain shoved Hero to their knees. “Superhero and I, well, we came to a little agreement. A little party game of sorts. We work together to find the biggest, most violent ways to kill you two, then blame the fallout on you. No one will know the truth of us working together since, well, you’ll be dead.”

Hero hears a crash in their bedroom and can’t hold back a flinch. Seeing Hero’s reaction, Supervillain giggles, stomping their feet with glee. “Oh, Superhero. I know we agreed to punish our own as we see fit, but can’t I have this one, just for a moment? I won’t kill them yet, I promise.”

“I guess.” Superhero sighs, “But only for a moment. We don’t want to get carried away too quickly. We need a crowd outside.”

Sidekick crashed down the stairs, almost falling on the last step. Hero wasn’t sure, they couldn’t turn to get a good look, but they thought they caught a glimpse of a new bruise around Sidekick’s eye. “Superhero! S-Supervillain. It’s Villain. I looked everywhere, but they’re not here. I. I swear I looked everywhere. The window was open before I made it upstairs.”

Superhero’s laughter sent shivers down Hero’s spine. Supervillain released Hero’s throat to grab their arm and twist it behind them, lifting Hero from their spot on the ground. As Superhero moved past them toward Sidekick, Supervillain’s free hand grabbed Hero’s side, fingers cutting into Hero’s now bleeding wound, and turned them to watch.

At that moment, Hero saw something they had never seen before. Superhero hurt Sidekick. They shoved Sidekick to the ground into a position Hero knew all too well. “Wait. Stop.” Hero whispered as they watched Superhero release their power into a whip. When the first stroke fell, Hero turned their head aside and threw up. That first stroke opened up Sidekick’s shirt, revealing dozens of old scars.

How did they never know?

With a loud crash, the outside wall of Hero’s apartment burst in. There, in the rubble, stood Villain. Hand clutching their side, Villain stood tall. Their smile was weak. Their whole frame shook from the effort, but their eyes were unwavering in their determination. Even as Supervillain dragged Hero out of the kitchen, they didn’t waver.

“Run, Villain.” Hero gasped, “Please, run. They’ll kill us both.” Hero’s throat burned from the sudden use after Supervillain’s abuse. A small sound, however, drew Hero’s attention away from their new friend and to the three teenagers standing as far from Villain as they could get in the damaged room.

Supervillain twisted Hero’s arm and squeezed their arm tighter, causing them to cry out. “Well. Isn’t this interesting? Oh, Superhero! It seems my little pet brought us some new friends. Where do they fall in our little alliance?”

Superhero slipped into view with that inhuman grace Hero learned to fear long ago. Their whip was wrapped tightly around Sidekick’s throat, dragging them, kicking, and trying to scream through the rubble. “I see. Did you think bringing in witnesses would be enough to stop us? They’re irrelevant. Unfortunate victims caught up in Hero and Villain’s fight.”

“Oh, I do love it when you talk like that. Maybe we ought to kill our underlings together more often. Make it a monthly event?” Supervillain released Hero to fall to the floor at their feet. Their power stretched between their fingers, growing with each step they took toward Villain.

The weak smile Villain wore gained strength. Their hands didn’t shake as they signed one simple little word. “Livestream.” Each of the teens was holding up a phone, livestreaming Superhero and Supervillain’s words to the world. “Let us go. All we want is to be free from the two of you and your hatred. We don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Go, then.” Superhero sighed, they started to walk away but turned quickly. “Was that good? We did what you asked. We performed in your play. Please, release your magic and let Sidekick go. Give Supervillain the antidote.”

The building rumbled beneath Hero and started to collapse inward. Hero’s heart clenched as the two floors below theirs were crushed under the weight of the now unstable top floor. Screams surrounded Hero. Superhero found an out. They turned themselves into the victims. The cameras were off and the battle had begun. If only Hero could still fight.

A piece of the building had fallen on top of them, crushing them from where it rested on their lower back.

Still in character, Superhero stood above Hero. “Please, let them go. I, I can’t save you from those wounds. Release my Sidekick. Please.” Even as they spoke, Hero could feel Superhero’s power shifting some of the rubble beneath them so sharp metal pressed against their chest. Not far away, they could hear Supervillain giving Villain a similar speech, though Villain seemed largely uninjured in the fall.

“Enough.” Sidekick’s voice was just barely louder than the growing fires around them. “Enough of your lies.”

The rubble holding Hero down is lifted and slammed into Supervillain, sending them flying. Hero can breathe again. Though, not for long. The metal beneath them pierces their skin, drawing out a long groan.

“Enough, Superhero! I refuse to let you have your way.” Sidekick leaned over Hero, dragging their helpless body from the ground and tossing them into Villain. Instead of piercing Hero’s heart, the metal meant to kill them cuts a long gash across their chest before lurching up and impaling Sidekick.

Villain’s arms wrapped around Hero, pulling them away from the remains of their home. Hero’s voice rips from their chest as they use what little strength they have left to fight to reach Sidekick. They watched as yet another victim fell to their knees. The last thing Hero saw before the world went dark was a tear in Sidekick’s eyes as they mouthed “I’m sorry.”

#whump #whump fic #whump scenario #rescue #whump tropes #whump writing #hero #whump ideas #villain #superhero #supervillain #sidekick #past injury #injury whump #building collapse #unconscious #injuries #hurt/comfort #superpowers

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envysparkler · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson Characters: Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson Additional Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Trapped, Building Collapse, Impaled, Hurt Dick Grayson, Non-Consensual Drug Use, painful healing, Protective Slade Wilson, Enemy to Caretaker

Summary:

Dick, trapped under a building’s worth of rubble and quite literally pinned in place, encounters the mercenary he recently betrayed.

#sladerobinweekend #sladerobinweekend2023 #sladick #drugged #'no one else came'#unexpected mercy #trapped #building collapse

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how-much-for-a-whump · 10 months

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TWO WEEKS OF WHUMP day 5:

Prompt: "Building collapse"

Filinta 37. Bölüm

@promptsforyourwhumpfic

#TwoWeeksOfWhump #TWOW #day 5 #building collapse #Filinta #Bıçak Ali #Cem Uçan #turkish #turkish series #whump #male whump #explosion #wounded #unconscious #cared for #hospital #tears #choking

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artichokefunction · 10 days

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bomb went off. that's not good. you need to- ghhhhhh. your head pounds. you need to get your bearings. you need to find the handler. she is next to you, still. you need to get out of here. the building is collapsing. chunks of big and heavy and powdery and hazardous things are falling down around you and you need to not get hit. you pull the handler along and you move as fast as you can and you really wish you had 360 vision but you manage to avoid the worst of it until-

-a steel support beam comes down, almost on top of you. the agent pushes you out of the way, just in time, and it manages to avoid the worst of it. not all of it. there's an awful, awful crunching sound. you grab its arm and pull your friend off of the steel that has carved a long, wicked hole in its back. right through the fuel tank, right through the ribs. that's bad that's really bad. yyou, uh-

-you feel... sideways. empty. you're leaking, a lot, a steady stream of stuff you really need running down your back. you feel like you can't really breathe. you follow the handler, you try to, your limbs aren't responding the way they should. you tip sideways, she catches you. one arm around his shoulder. your head comes to rest next to her neck. you feel bad. you're cold. it's not cold in here. you're moving, the two of you, to somewhere. your eyes still work. the exits are blocked. you're moving to an uncollapsed area. they set you down on your side, your good side, you feel nauseated. no, that's not the word, you just feel sick and shaky. in your motor. no, uhh, your heart. they take your head in their lap, in her hands, she's saying something that you can't hear because your ears are ringing, still. he's crying. yyyou-

-you need to minimize long term damage you really really need to make sure it doesn't die. this is the best way to do that. you locate the little emergency switch under the faux skin of its collarbone, and it's expression relaxes into a look of recognition. you think. you hope, god you hope that it knows what you're doing. that it knows it'll be okay. knows, thinks. whatever. you switch it to emergency mode, the setting you use for surgeries. since this is basically a surprise, accidental, really scary surgery. your laughs turn into dry, painful coughs. the air quality in here is only going to get worse. you, also, need to stay alive. that's important. you need to call someone for a rescue and you need to not suffocate while you wait. you pull out your communicator, and you take a second to think, and you message the three colleagues of yours who are closest to this location. [EMERGENCY. REQUESTING IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE.] either they can help or they can't. now you need to help yourself. you've helped the agent as much as you can. it's in emergency mode, the closest to an OFF switch it has. it breathes less when it's like that, to conserve resources and slow down as many processes as possible. its- maybe it doesn't need its mask right now. what do you mean maybe. you are the one person on earth who would know that. its- um. it needs oxygen still, a little. you need oxygen a lot. this would not kill it, and it's a problem you could fix later, while solving all the other problems. like the big hole. ohhh god. gently, slowly, you unhook its mask from its face. and you feel bad doing it. this is. rude. or mean, or something. if it were conscious it would be upset. it would be more upset if you suffocated down here. you know that. the mask is a bit damp inside, sweat and a little bit of blood, you think. it doesnt fit your face right, obviously. but it filters air for you. it does its job. you run your fingers through your agent's grimy hair. you know it can't feel it. you don't stop.

you don't know how much time has passed. you zoned out again, whatever. you have a response, from robbie, actually. it's been a while since you talked to her. right now you just send the details she needs; [STRUCTURE COLLAPSED, "RED WINE FISHES". MAIN FLOOR, TWO NEED RETRIEVAL, ONE CRITICAL CONDITION. NO AMBULANCES.] you know she'll get the red wine fishes reference. probably. you both were here for that job. not an easy one to forget. no ambulances, because they'll ask questions you can't answer, and they won't have your regen machine. probably. it's been a while since you've been in a public hospital. maybe they've started to get with the times. probably not. the times are expensive. the smell of spilt petrol cuts through the mask's filters. you might cry, again. you don't want to do that. waste of water, limited resources, while you're trapped here. you want to zone out again. you can't do it on command. you have no fucking idea how people do that on command. so you do your normal thing, [it probably doesn't count as your normal thing if you haven't done it in many many years. whatever] you sit there in the uncomfortable present for a long long moment, listening to your own muffled breathing and to the sounds of the building settling around you, until eventually you notice you zoned out at some point because you're snapped back to the present by a sudden very loud and new crashing sound. you panic for a moment. you can't *do* anything. then the dust clears and you see that it's robbie, and her small group of other big strong men. they have found you, and you are safe now, and by that you mean you're slightly safer then you were before. you still need to evacuate. you pull the agent closer to your chest as you show robbie the situation at hand. she pulls a face and hisses through her teeth when she sees. after some quiet discussion with her boys, one of them lifts the agent up into their arms, saying little reassuring things to you the whole time, and robbie takes you, supporting you on her arm. they are being very nice to you right now. you must look rough. you feel fine, you think. you tune back in and you're approaching your truck. you find your words, you take the mask off, and you tell robbie that you'll be fine from here. she gives you a *look*.

[I'm not leaving you here alone, not when you're like this.]

[i need to get the agent stabilized, before anything else. I'll relocate after.]

[Sitting in one place, away from the wheel, you'd be easy to catch.]

[yhh... true...]

[Let me drive you, babe, you can hang out in my garage until you're ready to go.]

[...]

[Come on, you know my place is secure.]

[hah, yeah. "blue steel eye", i remember, that was a good job by me.]

[...?]

[ghh. yeah okay fine. here's the key, password is left left down left down up. don't crash us.]

[I'm a good driver, you know that. Boys, take the van home. I'll be right behind ya.]

you'll have to change the system password again, after this. for now, you have your agent on your operating table, nearly dead. you have a lot of things to do. fuel tank needs serious repairs, need to deal with the severe blood loss, and the ribcage damage as well. blood first, heart stop would mean brain stop and you want to avoid that. rib reconstruction last, you need access to the tank inside for repair. after that you can work on the respiratory issues that will probably crop up. you also need to get the air out of its pipes, get fuel re-circulating safely. lots to do. you get to work.

your chest feels bad, that's the first thing you notice. the second thing you notice is that you're awake and alive and stuff. that's nice. you thought maybe you would be dead, crushed and alone after the handler watches you bleed out. or worse. he could be the one dead. you need to check on her. it's a herculean task, to lift your head enough to turn it to the side. but he's there, collapsed on a stool, asleep. she looks rough. she looks alive, though. as do you. probably. maybe. you feel like you might look distinctly open right now. there are a few little delicate things connected into your back, you think. your movement is restricted but not by a lot. mostly you're just tired. you close your eyes for a moment. when you open them again, the handler is up, sorting through equipment just out of your view. you want to ask her for a status report. tell you what she's doing, how she's doing, how you're doing. you try to ask. it doesn't work. what the fuck. your hands feel really heavy. and far away. what the fuck, you need those. you can't, fucking- you're too fatigued to sign. you can flex your fingers, still, kinda. you don't like being angry. not angry. frustrated. normally you can do things, and you like being able to do things. you don't like this. she has noticed whatever turmoil you have going on, because he runs her fingers through your hair. it is actually pretty grounding, you can admit it. nothing useful here to be angry at, no point in getting worked up.

[dealing with the damage, steadily. fuel tank repaired, it should hold up, please tell me if you notice anything leaking or exploding or just going wrong. working on the rib cage right now. re-set and re-construct. don't move too much, this part is delicate. you got dangerously close to damaging your spine in a few places. you were lucky. well, wait, that's a weird thing to say in this situation. but you did survive. we're both alive. stay still.]

you let out a deep breath, as deep as you can manage right now. you'll be okay. you let your eyes close again. you're not immediately asleep this time, you can hear the purr of machinery just above you, and you can feel her hands wrap gently around your shoulder and your side. trying to assess progress, probably. you'll be okay.

#[fiction]#[category: the agent & the handler]#gore warning #blood tw #injury tw #bomb tw #building collapse #whats the commonly used trigger tag for that. i do not know

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bloodyfeverdreams · 7 months

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Day 5, 9, 10, 17, 18, 30- Lost in the Darkness

aka Working very hard to keep Bakugou blindfolded the entire story

prompts- pinned down, stranded, you're a liar, touch aversion, blindfold, bridal carry- building collapse, broken bones, head injury, Bakugou being Bakugou, Kiri not taking his shit hehe

AO3 link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/50415793

Sometimes Katsuki entertains the idea that he might regret coming to U.A.

He didn’t, he would never accept anything less than the school that All Might attended, but circumstances like this gave him plenty of time to think. Especially since he couldn’t do literally anything else at the moment. Currently, he was blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back, suspended in the air hanging from a rope that was connected to a harness, being forced to pretend to be a hostage. As much as the training scenarios were as close to real life as they could be, hanging from a singular rope tied to a ceiling was not something to be fucked around with, and Katsuki could be grateful at least that he wouldn’t get injured by his classmates’ idiocy in this shitty simulation. He wouldn’t put it past them to just cut him down without warning him so he fell flat on his face. They really were that stupid. As soon as they’d gotten him in the air, he’d wanted to get out of his restraints himself, perfectly capable of rescuing himself, but Aizawa had told him that if he didn’t play his ‘randomly’ assigned role (bullshit, Aizawa never left anything up to chance) as ‘regular citizen’, then Katsuki would lose an entire grade over it. Damn fucker was using his stellar academic record against him, and Katsuki had to admit, it was currently working. As impressed as he was that Aizawa had found something that got him to go along with this dumb exercise, Katsuki also never hated his teacher more than right now.

So, unfortunately, here he was. Hanging here, in complete silence, cut off from the world around him. God, this fucking sucked. Had to be one of the most humiliating things he’d done since getting to this school, and to make matters worse, he was so bored. The classmates who were pretending to be the villains who ‘captured’ him had left him ages ago, off fighting the heroes of the exercise, being serious fucking idiots as you should never leave a hostage alone because you don’t know what they’ll do or the heroes plan and then you lose your bargaining chip. … Sue him, he was bored, he could think both sides’ actions through, and he certainly wouldn’t have acted this dumb, and he’d win the battle against anyone assigned to be his enemy. That first fight with Deku was an outlier, and Katsuki refused to count it.

Noises caught his attention, and Katsuki hoped that this shit would be over soon. He just wanted to go to his room, make a pot of coffee, and forget today with some violent video games he could take his anger out on. Maybe if he was lucky, Kirishima would be down to play too. He always felt better after annihilating one of his friends. But then the noises shifted, and Katsuki carefully turned his head, trying to pinpoint where they were coming from without getting the rope to spin.

“Bakugou!” Dunce face. Wonderful. “Guys, I found him, come on!”

More noises followed her shout, footsteps, and he sensed the area around him fill up with people. He’d been right, as he always was, going off to the fight and leaving him alone was a dumb move by his classmates and they’d gotten their asses kicked. From what he could hear, since they still hadn’t taken off the damn blindfold, dunce face, pink cheeks, and shitty hair had come to his ‘rescue’. Joy. At least pink cheeks had some measure of sense when Deku wasn’t involved, and Kirishima would hopefully keep Kaminari from being too stupid for his own good. He supposed this was the best out of a shitty situation since he was stuck here anyways.

“So how do we get him down?” Kaminari asked. “If we just cut him down, he’ll fall.”

Katsuki bit his lip, trying to keep himself in check. The answer was so obvious Katsuki could’ve screamed.

“Ooh, Uraraka, if you float him, I can cut the rope.” Thank god, Katsuki thought that discovery was going to take them three more years as they chattered.

“On it, Kirishima!”

Five fingers came to his chest, and the horrible feeling of weightlessness infected his whole body. Katsuki had never liked pink cheeks quirk in the first place, and he hated it even more now. He hated not being in control of his own body. Katsuki bit his lip harder.

Katsuki swung a little as Kirishima sawed through the rope, and he felt it when the rope attached to his harness suddenly went limp. He floated around for a moment before he got too fed up with their idiocy.

“Let me down. Now.” Katsuki hissed, his voice as venomous as a snake.

He could tell he surprised pink cheeks in her gasp, even though they still hadn’t taken off the goddamn blindfold, but he seriously didn’t give a shit. This day was shitty enough, he didn’t need her to add to it more than necessary. He heard her speak her stupid words, she really didn’t need to say it every time, from what he could tell of her quirk, but he used the sound to prepare for the sudden fall he was about to experience.

The freefall he was expecting got interrupted by strong arms, Kirishima balancing him so he could stand on his own without falling over. Under the blindfold they still hadn’t taken off, his eye twitched. And he thought today couldn’t get any worse, but he supposed he’d underestimated just how fucking stupid these assholes were.

“What do we do now?” Kaminari said, doing fuck knows what.

“How about you untie me?” Katsuki growled, his desire to keep his grades perfect fighting with his desire to just fuck all this shit and take the fucking hit so he could be fucking done.

“I got you, bro!” Kirishima said, and Katsuki heard Kirishima’s quirk go off again. He felt a swish behind his back, and his arms were finally freed from those damn uncomfortable ropes.

“Fucking finally.” Katsuki muttered, rubbing at his wrists. “Took you idiots long enough.”

Katsuki’s hand went to the blindfold, ready to rip it off himself, when the whole building shook. He instinctively put his hands out to steady himself, and before anyone could speak, Katsuki felt the ground crack and split open, and they were all freefalling with a shout. Katsuki had a single moment to curse in his head, as apparently things could get worse, and he’d just jinxed himself. But before he could try anything that might mitigate the shit the building collapse had started, his head crashed into something hard and unyielding, sending bright sparks across his eyes before he fell into a darkness a blindfold couldn’t create.

Katsuki’s first thought as he slowly rose to consciousness was that his whole body hurt, and he didn’t know why. He could feel heavy weights pressing down on him, completely covering his right arm, left hip, and there was one pushing directly on his face. His face was sticky, his arm was sticky, and his hip was throbbing two beats faster than his heart. He groaned, trying to move to escape the weights but they kept him pinned down, his legs scraping on dust, sliding through the dirty ground like a waterslide.

“Hold on, I think I heard him.” He knew that voice. That was… that was…

Oh shit. As he heard his best friend, memories came rushing back to his mind. Putting on the harness in the unhappiest way, being lifted into the air, and Aizawa handing him the blindfold to put on before his teacher gently tied his hands behind his back. Chattering voices from his idiot classmates, who joined him only to leave him there a little while later. Other voices of different people, Kirishima cutting him down, cutting the ropes, and then the ground disappearing out from under them. The building must’ve collapsed, that’s what the weights were, debris from the cave in. And the blindfold was still on his fucking face.

Kirishima must’ve found him, because soon the weights were being lifted off of him, and he heard a soft, “fuck.” The weight on his face was lifted very slowly, gently, and fingers probed at Katsuki’s temple, and he twitched as Kirishima disturbed the dried sticky shit on his face and in his hair. He was pretty sure it was blood, but he couldn’t be sure, as who knows what kind of plumbing had been disturbed when they’d fallen. Be easier for him if it wasn’t blood, though.

“Kami, get over here, turn up the light. Bakugou’s hurt!” No shit, Kirishima. Why not say other obvious shit like they were in trouble or that they were trapped?

Kaminari must be using his quirk to have his electricity crackle around him, giving them what light they could get. Light began to penetrate his darkness, and he shut his eyes harder, the light stabbing needles into his brain. A pained gasp slipped out unconsciously, and his left arm tried to shield his eyes from the light, but Kirishima took his hand, and held it.

“Easy, bro, you took a lot of damage.” Kirishima murmured. If Kirishima kept saying super obvious things that didn’t need to be said, Katsuki was going to blow him up.

Katsuki ripped his hand out of Kirishima’s, and came to his face. Since none of these assholes would finally take off this goddamned blindfold, he was going to do it himself. But as he pushed the fabric upwards, strobe lights blinded him, his vision going white as he screamed. A hand pulled his away, the blindfold falling back into place. Firecrackers of light assaulted his mind, taking away his ability to process the world around him. Flashes of what he’d managed to see popped through his mind, Kirishima with minimal cuts and a few bruises, Kaminari’s jacket tied around Uraraka’s bloody shoulder as a tourniquet, and Kaminari was nothing but an essence of overly powerful, bright light.

“Bakugou, what’s wrong?”

All he could manage was a strained, “bright.”

Kirishima’s fingers pinched at the blindfold, putting himself in between Katsuki and Kaminari, and through the shining light setting his nerves on fire, he could see his best friend frown before putting the blindfold back. “Shit.”

“What is it, Kirishima?” Kaminari asked, sounding unsettled, like he had in the mall training. Two was enough for a pattern for Katsuki, he was going to rage at Aizawa for letting this happen to him again, and swear that he wasn’t doing anything like this again until the teachers fixed this shit so a third time never happened.

“Bakugou, I think you have a concussion or something.” Kirishima muttered, knowing to talk to him despite the fact that it had been Uraraka that had asked. Katsuki hated being talked about like he wasn’t there. “And your arm totally looks broken, dude.”

Even though Katsuki couldn’t see it, he knew Kirishima was biting the inside of his cheek. It was one of his nervous habits. But a head wound meant the stickiness on his face was blood, and that complicated shit. Adding a broken arm to the mix was a disadvantage he would struggle to get through, but Katsuki refused to let this stop him. The marathon this had been going to be had just turned into a triathlon. Fuck. Still, he could do a triathlon with his eyes closed.

Actually, he was going to have to. Katsuki could see the overpowering light still through the blindfold, but it was easier to deal with with the blindfold on. Goddammit, his day could not get any-- stop. Don’t jinx yourself again. He didn’t know how this could get worse, and he didn’t want to know. Today fucking sucked ass, he should leave it at that.

“You with us, bro?” Kirishima asked, and he realized he’d been getting talked to, but honestly he couldn’t care less.

“Yeah.” He muttered. “Just figuring out how to get us out of here.”

Since Kirishima had removed the debris, Katsuki was able to lean to his left side, using his good side to get himself up. He could practically hear Kirishima wanting to help him, but he also knew Katsuki wouldn’t accept it. His left leg was shaky, his hip screaming at him to stop, but pain was just a call he didn’t have to answer. Pain never stopped All Might, therefore it wouldn’t stop him.

But as soon as he got himself as upright as he could, a bout of dizziness hit him, and he lost his balance, crashing into Kirishima. His best friend fumbled a bit catching him, making a surprised noise, but got him standing after a moment.

“Okay, dude, I’m sorry, I know you hate this, but you can’t walk by yourself.” Kirishima said, regret lacing his words, infuriating him. Kirishima was the only one he could trust not to pity him, but he still hated needing his help. Kirishima had learned the language Katsuki spoke, to know when to ask for something because Katsuki needed it but wouldn’t say it, to brush everything off as not an issue because Katsuki didn’t want to talk about it, ever. This wasn’t his language and Katsuki growled at him, the warning sign that he was about to get his shit rocked.

But Kirishima never took his shit, so he just adjusted Katsuki so his left arm was slung around Kirishima’s shoulders. And he thought that being tied up was humiliating.

“Bakugou,” Kirishima said, lowering his voice so only he could hear. “You can’t take the blindfold off, Kami’s light is too strong for your concussion, and you can’t walk. Just this once, let me help you. Let me be your crutch.”

Oh damn him for using that shit against him. He let Deku be his crutch one time and they never let him live it down. Katsuki was going to find a reason to blow Deku up for this, whether it was a good reason or not. This was all his fault anyway.

Regardless of how he felt though, Kirishima was right. He couldn’t see, and being trapped under a bunch of debris was not something that he could get out of on his own if he was blind. He couldn’t even see what was in front of him, the light radiating off Kaminari too bright for him to see anything but blurs and blobs of where he assumed people and objects were.

It felt like swallowing broken glass, but he ground out a quiet, “fine.”

“Thanks, dude.” Kirishima whispered, wrapping his arm around Katsuki’s waist. He hobbled them over to the others, Katsuki struggling to walk in step with Kirishima since he couldn’t fucking see where the bastard was stepping. God, he just wanted today to end.

“Dude, Bakugou, you look like shit.” Kaminari exclaimed, crackling faintly.

Katsuki tried to shy away from the bright light without looking like he was doing that. “If anyone else says one more blatantly obvious thing, I’m gonna blow all three of you up.”

He heard Kaminari’s, “yeesh, sorry” but it was soon drowned out by pink cheeks.

“Hush, Bakugou. You can’t do that anyways, you’ll just make this worse, unless you want this to cave in more. Now, we need to take care of your arm. Okay, what can we use to make a sling?”

Lots of ideas were discussed, and shot down violently by Katsuki, but eventually he allowed Kirishima to take the harness off and use that, Katsuki using his good arm on Kirishima’s shoulder to keep himself upright. Katsuki refused to let any noise of pain out again, but internally he was screaming as Kirishima moved. Oh yeah, his arm was definitely broken, it felt like almost a Deku level of broken, and when Kirishima finally stopped and took his waist again, Katsuki was trying to minimize his heavy panting and shove down the tears in his eyes.

“Here, Kirishima, I can make Bakugou float so it’s not as hard for you to carry him.” Uraraka said, way too chipper for what she was saying.

Katsuki felt a flash of panicked anger ignite in his chest. Not being in control of his body when he was trapped and blind was a step too far, and he didn’t care what it meant for him to refuse it. He’d rather drag his own ass out of here on his own, completely blind, then have the last thing he had taken from him. Control over his body was something he refused external assistance for, and he would not let her steal that from him, he didn’t care how hurt he was.

Sensing her fingers as they began to brush his skin, Katsuki kicked out at her. “Don’t touch me!”

He must have connected with Kaminari accidentally, as he got a static shock from it, but the “ow!” Kaminari made made up for it a little.

“Bakugou! Don’t kick me!” Pink cheeks squealed, which just made his resolve stronger. He ignored Kaminari’s, “don’t kick me either!”

“Then don’t fucking touch me.”

“Come on, man.” Kirishima said in his ear. “We need to get out of here.”

“I’m not letting that bitch touch me.” Katsuki growled back.

Pink cheeks made an affronted shout, but Kirishima was quick to understand what Katsuki was actually saying, that her quirk was off limits.

“He doesn’t mean it, Uraraka,” uh, yes the fuck he did, “but I’ve got him. He’s not heavy to me.”

Somehow Katsuki got a sappy vibe from that comment and he promptly ignored it.

“If you say so, Kirishima.” Uraraka said, doing that stupid pouty face she made when she was trying to be serious. He didn’t have to see it, he could hear it just fine.

“Come on guys, let’s get out of here.” Kirishima said, and they started walking. “There’s a path, Bakugou, if there’s anything you can trip on, I’ll handle it.”

Kirishima kept to the back, not leaving Kaminari’s light but also trying to keep as much of it off Katsuki as he could. This is why Kirishima was his best friend, even though he hadn’t actually wanted a best friend when he came to this school. But Kirishima understood him, helped without helping, didn’t shove his weakness back in Katsuki’s face. When they got back, he supposed he could make too much gyūdon and give the other bits to Kirishima for this. He supposed it’s been a while since he had that, and he could just randomly have a craving for a meatier dish.

The more they walked, the more Katsuki couldn’t help leaning on Kirishima. Each step with his left foot sent another bolt of pure agony to his hip, and every step with his right jostled his arm, and Katsuki’s head was already swimming from so much movement that he could barely keep track of the world beyond the pain. With the blindfold keeping the torturous light away, he couldn’t see the worried looks his friends were shooting him, only being able to sense a tension rising in the air, unable to place where it was coming from. It was strangely quiet as they walked, which unsettled him. Kaminari usually was a motor mouth, Katsuki always had to yell at him to be quiet. But now, no one was talking, and that didn’t seem right.

Suddenly, the light stopped, and they all froze.

“Kaminari!” Pink cheeks shrieked, the sound sending another bolt from his ear to his brain, and then back. He couldn’t be worried about Kaminari for a minute, he was so wrapped up in agony.

He heard knees and hands hit the floor along with winded gasps. Kaminari must have been pushing the limits of his control, his quirk more suited for attacks rather than support, keeping the volts so close to him had been exhausting him. As worried as he wouldn’t admit he was for his idiot, he was more worried that this would make dunce face go into whey mode. Not only would they lose what little light they had, but Katsuki wouldn’t be the only one out of commission, and Katsuki didn’t think their little group could take much more.

“I’m okay.” Kaminari panted, and the light started up again, but it was duller. “I’ll be fine. Plus ultra, right?”

The light was so dull in comparison to what Kaminari had before, that he reached around Kirishima’s neck, strangling him a little but for a good reason, and he peeled back the blindfold for a moment. It was still too bright, driving icepicks into his brain, but he could make out his friends now. Uraraka had knelt down to Kaminari’s level, and Kaminari was trembling, but from what Katsuki wasn’t sure. To let Kirishima breathe, he let go.

“Take a breather, man, you’ve been going for like, forever.” Kirishima said, and again the light went out, as the sound of shifting echoed in the darkness.

Katsuki never liked darkness, not that he was afraid of it like a baby or anything, but he never liked being able to see what and who was around him. Especially since… well. He supposed both. Kamino had only added onto what had happened with the sludge villain. But being plunged into darkness now wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, and he was glad to hear Kaminari’s breath evening out.

Standing was becoming unbearable as they waited for Kaminari to be ready again. His left leg was trembling fiercely, and his right wasn’t doing much better. His arm was still against his chest, but just being upright was making him dizzy, the world spinning painfully, like being stabbed into a ceiling fan as it rotated. At this point, Katsuki was standing on pure willpower alone. He wouldn’t fall, he already had to lean on Kirishima, he wouldn’t embarrass himself further and fucking fall. He wasn’t Deku, clumsy as fuck and idiotic. He. wouldn’t. fall.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Kaminari said, though they could all hear the exhaustion still in his voice. But the relief Katsuki felt might’ve slipped through, as Kirishima adjusted his hold a little, taking on more of Katsuki’s weight.

The sound of electricity crackled in the air, the light reappearing. It wasn’t as bright as when Katsuki had first woken up, but it was better than Kaminari’s second attempt. Still too bright for him to take off the blindfold, but instead of thirty icepicks digging violently into his brain, now there were only twenty.

Katsuki realized he’d been wrong before, standing wasn’t agony, but continuing to walk now was excruciating, so much worse than standing. His steps shuffled a little, his mind unable to send the signal to lift them up all the way, and Kirishima had to take more of his weight. He was practically carrying Katsuki by his waist, Kirishima’s arm wrapped almost all the way around.

A rumbling sound in the distance.

“Did you hear that?”

“That sounded like--”

The rumbling got closer. Katsuki could just barely make out the sound of roof cracking under too much stress.

“Shit, run!”

Footsteps took off, but instead of his own following, Katsuki felt Kirishima shove him to the ground, cracking his head again on the hard ground, and he just barely felt Kirishima’s hardening activate before he passed out again.

With every breath he took, he felt his chest brush something stiff, and he could hear heavy breaths that weren’t his own.

“Shitty hair.” Katsuki moaned out, coming back to consciousness for the second time that day. Honestly he was just pissed off at this point, he hadn’t even jinxed them this time!

“Hey, Bakubro.” Kirishima said, and the awful sounds of rocks shifting and falling to the ground echoed too loudly in his ears. “Was a little worried I put you down too hard.”

“Fucking threw me.” Katsuki groaned, opening his eyes to darkness. His heart beat a little quicker. “Where’s dunce face? ‘S dark.”

“I’m not sure.” Kirishima sighed. “I knew I could only protect you with my quirk, so I told them to run. They did. Hopefully they outran the collapse.”

Katsuki did hope they outran the collapse. He was no doubt someone was coming after them, but it was probably the other idiots in their class. Aizawa hadn’t even set foot in the mall when it collapsed. And knowing his idiots, it would take them two days to find a sponge in a sink. With Kaminari and Uraraka trapped alongside them, it would be even harder to find them.

God, he just wanted to go to bed.

“Bakugou, wake up, hey don’t sleep.” Kirishima suddenly said, shaking him a little.

Katsuki let out a noise that meant that hurt and if Kirishima did it again, he’d regret it.

“Sorry, bro, but you can’t sleep.” Kirishima said. “I don’t know what’s going on with your head right now, but I don’t think it’s safe for you to sleep.”

Shit. He hadn’t been trying to fall asleep, he must have been passing out. That was a problem.

“What… what does this shit look like?”

“What shit?”

Katsuki’s good arm grabbed Kirishima’s face awkwardly, and rolled it around, trying to gesture to the space around them. He stopped when he heard the debris.

“Oh.” If rolling his eyes wasn’t painful, he would’ve. He settled for huffing. “I don’t know. I can’t see anything either. I can feel the debris on my back, but it keeps shifting around when I breathe. But don’t worry, I can keep this up for a while, you’re safe, bro, I got you.”

Right, Kaminari had been their only light source. He hadn’t really been worried about his safety, he’d wanted to be able to crawl out of here. But that wasn’t happening apparently. They were just stuck here until someone found them.

“Hey, Bakugou?”

“Mm.”

“Do you ever think about death?”

“Hah?!” Kirishima’s voice was way too blasé for this subject. “The fuck kinda question is that?”

“I’m trying to keep you awake and that was the first thing I came up with!” Katsuki heard Kirishima’s blush in his explanation. If he wasn’t hardened, he’d have gotten a smack for that. Katsuki just kept telling himself that rolling his eyes would hurt, rolling his eyes would hurt, don’t do that.

“Think of something better!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

There was a beat of silence. Katsuki groaned. God his friends were stupid.

“Are you and Midoriya exes or something?”

And he thought the death one was bad. “Excuse the fuck me? Has he been saying that? I’m going to fucking murder him!”

“No, no he hasn’t!” Kirishima said, saving Deku’s life, for now. “He’s never said that, or implied that or anything. We all just… we just wonder why you hate him so much. Like, I know you hate pretty much everybody, but your hatred for him is intense, dude. So we all kinda have a sort of bet going on, trying to figure out why. Couple of people think it was because you two dated and then had a bad break-up, especially since he knows so much about you.”

Katsuki blinked. That was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, and he’d known Deku for over ten years. Holy fuck.

“Shut down this ‘bet’, shitty hair, you all can stop fucking guessing.” Katsuki snarled.

“Oh yeah?” Kirishima perked up. “You gonna tell me?”

“No.” Somehow Kirishima deflated without moving. “First off, you assholes can stay the fuck out of my business, it makes no fucking difference to you why I hate him.”

“Yeah but we like Midoriya.” Kirishima sighed. “And we like you. We thought maybe if we could figure out why you hate him, we could help fix it.”

Katsuki supposed it was well-intentioned, but the idea still made his skin crawl. His relationship with Deku was his own, and… he didn’t want to think about it. His head already hurt too much.

“You can’t fix it, shitty hair.” Katsuki sighed. “None of you can. It’s only between us. Personal. Though if you could get him to stop crying every other second, that might help.”

Kirishima laughed breathlessly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

It was quiet for a minute.

“Does it… bother you, that I don’t like him?” Katsuki didn’t like how unsure his voice was, and he fully blamed it on the nondescript head wound.

“Bother, no, but it kinda makes me sad.” Kirishima said, shrugging and then freezing as more debris shifted. “I mean, you’re my best bro, and Midoriya’s a good bro, and it kinda sucks that we can’t like hang out together or do fun stuff. But if you don’t like him, I’m not going to force you to do stuff with him. You’re allowed to not like people. We’ll all just hang out separately.”

Katsuki couldn’t name the emotion in his chest, and he refused to try.

“You know, you could do better.” Katsuki said. “You’re one of the only idiots in our class who’s somewhat tolerable.”

“Aww, I love you too, Bakubro.” Kirishima chirped, and Katsuki’s eyes widened. “It’s not like that though, we’re just friends.”

“I didn’t fucking say that.”

“Maybe not in those words.” Kirishima said. “But I know you.”

“Not well enough apparently.” Katsuki muttered. “I didn’t fucking say that. I don’t say that shit to anyone, let alone you.”

“Aww, Bakubro!” Kirishima whined, and Katsuki knew he was wearing the stupid smile he was always wearing when he teased Katsuki. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“That was the intent, yes.”

Kirishima laughed, and the echo died in the walls of fallen debris around them.

“How’s your quirk?”

“I’ll be alright, Bakugou.” Kirishima said, and Katsuki could hear the strain Kirishima was trying to hide from him. “I’ve got you. I can keep this up a while longer.”

Katsuki didn’t doubt that, Kirishima had already risked his life for Katsuki once, it didn’t surprise him that he’d do it again and again. He was a good friend.

Silence followed for a moment.

“Bakugou, you still alive?” Kirishima asked.

“Mhm.” Bakugou murmured. “If I die, I’ll let you know.”

Kirishima huffed a strained laugh. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

The tiniest shines of light then filtered through the cracks of the debris. A spark of hope ignited in both of them. A muffled voice echoed through.

“Kaminari? Uraraka?” Kirishima shouted, and Bakugou whimpered. Damn, that hurt. He understood its necessity, but goddamn that hurt.

The voices got stronger, and so did the light. The debris was being shifted around, pink cheeks obviously using her quirk to move the debris safely. Thank fuck.

“Kirishima?” Kaminari’s voice rang through, and Bakugou just groaned quietly. That seemed to be answer enough, as he heard a, “I can hear them!”

Debris began to move quicker, and the light kept getting stronger, a pocket shining through. Katsuki didn’t have to see the head popping through to know that Kaminari was able to see them now.

“How buried am I?” Kirishima asked. “Can you see it?”

“Yeah I can see it, sheesh man, you’re under a lot of rock.” Kaminari said. “But Uraraka should be able to get you out, bro. Just give us a little time.”

“Thanks, bro.”

Without a watch but with a head wound, Bakugou couldn’t tell how it took them to move the debris, and the sounds sort of amalgamated into a noisy blur that he couldn’t quite distinguish. Eventually, he felt the chest he constantly brushed as he breathed disappear, and he could hear Kirishima shift around without the debris falling off of him. A hand came to his shoulder, but thankfully didn’t shake him.

“You still alive, bro?” Kirishima whispered.

“I haven’t told you I’m dead yet so what do you think?”

Kirishima laughed quietly. “Come on, Kaminari unburied me. We can stand up now.”

Ah shit. This was going to be hard, but Bakugou couldn’t back down now. He hoped that what sort of rest he’d gotten laying down would allow him to be able to stand again.

Okay. He could do this. He’d stand if it killed him.

His left was already trembling as he tried to push himself up, his hip screaming at him to stop moving as he moved his body. Instead of even trying to lose his left leg, he put all his weight on his right, but using his left arm and right leg to stand wasn’t working, and he could feel Kirishima’s hands begin to touch his shoulders. Dammit, he didn’t need fucking help!

Putting any weight on his left leg suddenly became the stupidest decision he’d ever made, as it hadn’t even been three seconds before he was crying out in pain and falling back to the ground.

Several versions of his name rang out in almost perfect unison, hands touching all over, and he just groaned. Today had to be one of the shittiest days of his life. At this point, he’d rather just pass out so he didn’t have to deal with this anymore.

“Bakugou, are you alright?” Kirishima’s voice finally made a sentence instead of just an exclamation.

“Stop fucking touching me and I might be.” Katsuki hissed, and four of the hands retracted themselves. The other two belonged to Kirishima, but he couldn’t see where his friend was to smack him with his good arm.

“Please don’t hate me for this, Bakubro, but you’re too hurt.” Kirishima said, and one hand stayed under his shoulder and the other moved to his knees.

Shit, wait, no, he wasn’t ready-- Kirishima lifted him into the air, and his hip screamed through his voice. The sound he made didn’t even sound like him. The versions of his name were shouted at him again, pounding his head so hard he could barely process their words.

“Hip.” Katsuki panted, finally taking control back of his voice from his hip.

“Dude, what do you mean?” Kirishima asked. “What’s going on?”

“Left hip.” Katsuki gasped. “Been broken since I woke up.”

“Dude!” Kirishima shouted and Katsuki grimaced. “I-- sorry, bro, but why didn’t you say anything? We’ve been walking with you this whole time!”

“Could handle it.” Katsuki groaned.

“Bullshit, Bakugou.” Kirishima snapped, and he sounded angrier than Katsuki had ever heard before. “Look, dude, walking with a head wound and broken arm is one thing. Walking on a broken hip is another. Kaminari, Uraraka, you two keep going. I’m gonna stay here with Bakugou.”

“I said I can handle it.” Katsuki said, trying to push out of Kirishima’s arms. Kirishima just held him tighter.

“I don’t care what you say, Bakugou.” Kirishima snarled. He was beginning to sound like Katsuki.

“Kirishima, are you sure?” Uraraka asked. “If we go, you’ll be completely in the dark.”

“I’ll be fine.” Kirishima said. Bastard even had the audacity to ignore Katsuki’s “I’m already fine.” and continue on like he hadn’t said anything. “Seriously guys. You go ahead. I can protect him with my quirk if anything else happens. We need help, now, and you two are our best chance at getting it. We won’t go anywhere, so you’ll know where you left us. It’ll be okay.”

Katsuki could hear the worried looks his friends exchanged, but they said their goodbyes and footsteps started to fade.

Kirishima knelt to the ground, and placed him down flat on the ground. He heard a bit of shifting before Kirishima pulled Katsuki’s head into his lap. It was somewhat comfortable, the darkness keeping Kirishima from seeing Katsuki’s unhappy blush. A soft hand came to his hair, brushing softly through his spikes, and that helped his headache better than the lack of light.

“You’re such a liar sometimes, Katsuki.”

Kirishima’s voice was soft, but the emotion in it was just as strong. Caught off guard by the sudden use of his given name, Katsuki barely managed a confused, “No I’m not.”

“Yes the fuck you are.” Kirishima snapped. “Saying you can handle walking on a broken hip when you can’t see and you can’t even catch yourself if you fall because of your arm. No one can do that, not even you. I can’t believe you sometimes, hiding that from us. From me. Seriously, Katsuki, how could you be so stupid?”

“I wasn’t being stupid!” Katsuki growled.

“Walking on a broken hip is stupid.” Kirishima insisted. “You know better! If it were me, you wouldn’t let me walk on it. You would’ve made Uraraka use her quirk on me so I didn’t put weight on it. What’s wrong with you, Katsuki? Why the hell did you do that?”

Even though they were arguing, the soft hand in his hair didn’t change its rhythm.

The pout on Katsuki’s face also matched the blush spreading to his ears. He wasn’t sure about how he felt about Kirishima using his given name, and he didn’t think he could figure it out with the headache that was trying to resist the comfort from Kirishima’s fingers.

“All Might worked for years with a hole in his side.” Katsuki pouted. “I could make it for one fucking day. It’s just pain.”

“Yeah, but you’re not All Might.” Kirishima said, and Katsuki bristled. “You’re not! You’re gonna be the number one one day, I’m sure of it, but you’re not there yet. And walking on a broken hip is a good way to make sure you never get there. What if you damaged your hip permanently?”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Katsuki grumbled. “I know when to stop before it gets that bad.”

“No, you don’t.” Kirishima refuted. “If you knew when to stop, you would’ve told me about your broken hip right when you woke up. Come on, man, I’m supposed to be your best friend. Why didn’t you at least tell me?”

“Not like I can keep a secret here.” Katsuki muttered. “If I’d said anything, then those two extras would’ve overheard, and pink cheeks would’ve used her stupid quirk on me again.”

“She was trying to help you.” Kirishima sighed.

“I don’t need her fucking help.” Katsuki seethed. Clenching his jaw made stars appear over his eyes, so he forced himself to ungrit his teeth. “I don’t want her fucking touching me. I don’t want anyone fucking touching me.”

“I’m touching you.”

Katsuki pouted again. “It’s different.”

“Because I’m ‘tolerable’?” Kirishima asked, with just the hint of a smirk. Bastard.

“Somewhat tolerable.” Katsuki huffed. “Just because you’re not literally the worst doesn’t mean you’re actually tolerable.”

“Uh-huh.” Kirishima said, not believing him at all. Damn bastard. “I don’t know what it is that makes you like this, but come on, Katsuki. Keeping us out when it comes to shit like this is only gonna turn around and bite you in the ass. I mean, look at us now. You can’t move, you still can’t even see even if it wasn’t dark, and now I have to stay here with you so you don’t die or get crushed or something.”

“You don’t need to rub it in.” Katsuki snapped.

“I’m not.” Kirishima sighed. “You’re my best friend, Katsuki. I don’t want to see you hurt, and just be stuck watching as you purposefully make yourself worse to prove some sort of point. I don’t even know who you’re proving it to, none of us care that you can’t walk on a broken hip.”

“I care.” Katsuki said. “I’m not like those extras who whine and cry every time they get a tiny scratch. They’ll never even make it to the top twenty with that attitude.”

“And you think you’ll make it to the top twenty if you constantly ignore your body?” Kirishima snapped back. “You constantly yell at Midoriya because he’s always breaking his bones all the time, and yet you do something like this!”

“It’s different!” Katsuki repeated.

“Ugh, no it’s not!” Kirishima groused. “What are you trying to prove, Katsuki? That you have absolutely no regard for your own well-being?”

“That I’m strong enough on my own.” Katsuki hissed.

The hand that had been softly running through his hair disappeared, and he refused to miss it. It came to his cheek, a softer touch than Katsuki would’ve suspected for how strong Kirishima was, and how mad at him he was.

“What if someone wants to be with you?” Kirishima asked softly, his thumb brushing up and down his cheek. “What if someone wants to stand by your side, to be there as you shoot to the top, wants to help you get there by calling you out on your bullshit, wants to hold you when you have nightmares, wants to have your back, wants to help prop you up when you can’t see or stand?”

Katsuki blinked.

“What was that middle one?”

“Wants to help you get there by calling you out on your bullshit.” Kirishima said. That hadn’t been the middle one he’d been talking about, but he let it go. Maybe he’d just misheard. “And that? That was bullshit.”

Katsuki huffed. “Okay maybe… maybe it wasn’t my smartest decision.”

“No shit, sherlock.” Kirishima muttered. Katsuki ignored that.

“I didn’t figure it would be such a big deal. It’s just pain. Pain is a call I don’t have to answer. I’m not weak, pain isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Your pain is a big deal to me.” Kirishima said. “Just because you acknowledge you’re in pain doesn’t mean that you’re weak.”

“The pros get hurt all the time in the field.” Katsuki retorted. “If they can rise above and keep moving when they’re hurt, then I can too.”

“You know, when we went on the Shie Hassaikai raid,” Kirishima said slowly, obviously thinking about his every word, “I passed out after that fight with Rappa.”

“You told me about that.” Katsuki said, unsure of where this was going.

“Yeah I did.” Kirishima said. “That fight took everything out of me. I had more cuts and bruises than I could physically count. And you know what Fat Gum did?”

A beat.

“He took me out of the fight.” Kirishima answered himself. “He found a place where we could be as safe as possible, and he got me medical help. I didn’t rejoin the fight after that. Fat Gum didn’t either. He stayed with me, kept me safe.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything to that.

“So why is it that Fast Gum, the actual pro, takes pain into consideration when making decisions, making sure that the people he was with were protected, but you, the teenager, don’t?”

“You were unconscious, I wasn’t.” Katsuki deflected. “I keep telling you, it’s different.”

“I wasn’t unconscious the entire time.” Kirishima shot back. “I woke up before Overhaul destroyed the street. And Fat Gum still stayed with me. Helped me get to the ambulances, even went with me to the hospital. He didn’t go back into the fight, he just stayed with me until I was taken care of. And he’s a genuine pro.”

Katsuki refused to answer his unspoken question.

“I think you’re running out of reasons why it’s different, Katsuki.” Kirishima said.

“Fuck you.” Katsuki snarled. “And why the fuck are you all of a sudden using my given name? I didn’t say you could do that.”

“You’re deflecting again.” Kirishima called out. “Give me a reason, dammit. A real reason. Why is it so different?”

“Because it’s me!” Katsuki shouted back. “I have to do this.”

“Dammit, why?”

“Because I have to be good enough!” Katsuki shouted, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

A choked noise of pain followed, and Katsuki lost track of reality as his world became nothing but unending agony, the pain so overwhelming that he couldn’t even be sure that he was breathing. It felt like it went on for three separate lifetimes, drowning him in a torment so excruciating he didn’t think he could ever describe it in words.

Shaky breaths were the first thing he became aware of when the pain finally began to subside. The fingers on his cheek were in his hair again, lightly dragging their nails across his scalp, and he clung to that feeling as his only salvation as he managed to get through the final assaults of the pain.

“Katsuki?” Kirishima’s voice was so quiet that Katsuki barely heard it.

Katsuki made the quietest noise he’d ever made in his life in response. He only just now realized he was crying, tears running rivers down his cheeks.

“You’re good enough, Katsuki.” Kirishima whispered. “You don’t have to kill yourself like this to prove you’re good enough. You’re good enough on your own, Katsuki.”

Katsuki couldn’t even think of a response, the pain had completely cut his voice off.

“It’s gonna be okay, Katsuki.” Kirishima kept going when he didn’t say anything. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re enough, you’re good enough. You’ll be okay. It’s alright. Yound soonna breathing, it’s okay, you’re gon it’s okay. Yound soon it’s alright. You’reat.”

The hell? Katsuki was completely losing track of what Kirishima was saying. The fifty icepicks in his brain were beating a drum beat that went two beats faster than his heart. When his mind tried to understand what Kirishima said, he just got indecipherable static in return. Darkness was slowly beginning to encroach around his mind, easing the pain by just trapping him in shadow.

“Omatsuki! Matsuki?” Katsuki couldn’t even feel Kirishima shaking him now, his mind so wrapped up in shadow. “Comake uke Kaki! Wake mase uple. Come Kaki!”

Kirishima was shaking him harder now, his voice insistent and desperate, but Katsuki couldn’t feel a bit of it. The shadow that stole him from consciousness to ease the pain had already put him completely under, the darkness of unconsciousness swallowing him whole.

Something was different. He couldn’t tell exactly what, but something was different.

Voices surrounded him, voices that hadn’t been the people he’d been stuck with. The only one out of the cacophony that he could properly pick out was Kirishima. Oh! That’s what was different! He wasn’t in Kirishima’s lap anymore, with no fingers running through his hair. That had felt really good, he was a little sad that Kirishima had stopped. It had really helped with the pain. That… he was no longer in. His hip was still throbbing, his arm still ached, but his head was kinda floaty, and that helped drown out everything else. What was going on? Katsuki tried to ask, but all that came out was a soft groan.

“Bakugou?” Kirishima must have heard him. “Hey, Bakugou, you back with us?”

He made a small, affirmative noise.

“There you are.” Kirishima chuckled breathlessly. “I was getting worried you’d sleep through the whole rescue.”

“Dum’ass.” Katsuki mumbled.

Katsuki could hear Kirishima’s relieved smile. The soft hand that was in his hair came to his cheek again. Unconsciously, he leaned into it.

“You really scared me, Katsuki.” Kirishima’s voice dropped, shaky and scared. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Hah?” Katsuki replied, and he tried to get his head on straight, get away from whatever was making him feel all floaty.

“Shh, it’s okay, Katsuki.” Kirishima said, his thumb running up and down Katsuki’s cheek again. “You’re gonna be alright now. Everything’s okay.”

“You?”

“I’m okay too, Katsuki.” Kirishima murmured, but he didn’t quite sound it. “I asked Recovery Girl, she said it was okay for you to sleep.”

Katsuki made an uncertain noise. “Don’t, sound, okay.”

“Yeah, well, when you think someone you love just died in your arms, you don’t sound okay for a little while.”

Katsuki couldn’t think for a moment, and it had nothing to do with his head being floaty. Loved? Kirishima loved him? Sure, they were best friends, Kirishima was the closest friend he’d ever had, but that didn’t mean anything. Katsuki had walked away from his friends from middle school without even thinking, he’d realized he didn’t care whether they were around him or not. They weren’t good for him, encouraging him to do shit he shouldn’t, and they were just lackeys who followed him because he was the biggest fish in their little pond. He’d figured that… he’d figured that all friends were like that. That that was why Kirishima had forced his way into Katsuki’s life, that that was why all of Kirishima’s friends had followed suit. He’d made it clear on day one that he was one of the most powerful students in this class, even if he hadn’t done it in the best of ways. The USJ incident had been a better judge of his power, and his character. He hadn’t been able to lose Kirishima after that, and as soon as Kirishima had deemed him acceptable, the rest of the Bakusquad followed suit. But he’d never thought that Kirishima had deemed him acceptable because he’d cared about Katsuki, just that Kirishima thought he could use Katsuki to get ahead, and the squad followed because he could keep them afloat academically. The invitations to movie nights, playing video games, hanging out outside of school, and now caring when he got hurt, he’d thought that was just pretenses. That they didn’t care whether he showed up or not, that if they found someone who could do what he did (who had a better attitude) they’d walk away from him without thought. Did all of the Bakusquad feel that way? When he could think properly, he had to give this a ridiculous amount of thought.

“Shh, just go to sleep, Katsuki.” Kirishima said, somehow sensing that Katsuki’s mind was going a million miles an hour. “We’ll talk later. Sleep.”

Even though it was Shinsou who could control minds, Katsuki’s mind still seemed to shut down when Kirishima told it too, only just now noticing that he was completely exhausted. The soft touch to his cheek continued, gently settling him into a comfortable sleep.

And goddammit, he was still wearing that goddamn blindfold.

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librathefangirl · 1 year

Text

When the Past Comes Crashing

ao3 (Chapter 1/7; 2k+)

A seemingly easy mission quickly goes awry for the Seven Deadly Sins, forcing them to make some critical decisions that sets off an unexpected set of events. At the same time, a long-buried secret comes back to haunt Meliodas with a 3,000-year-old call for revenge. Written for @amonthofwhump's March Trope-A-Thon!

Okay, so a little run-down about this AU/timeline: This goes off-canon back in the First Holy War and Meliodas’ betrayal against the demons. The details of how exactly, you’ll find out through the story (as it’s a vital part of the plot).

As for the present-time timeline, it’s canon-divergent in the way that Meliodas actually killed Fraudrin back in Danafor. This means Dreyfus was never possessed, Zaratras was never killed, and the Sins were never framed. Elizabeth’s relationship with Meliodas is of course also affected by this as she never had to search for the Sins with him. Instead, she grew up with him as the captain fo the Seven Deadly Sins and a holy knight of Liones. As for the Sins’ current dynamic, it’s mostly like how it was in Prisoners of the Sky, except only Merlin and Gowther (who has regained his memories) know about Meliodas being a demon.

Chapter Prompts: Day 1 – Environmental; Rockslide/Building Collapse.

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

“You’re worried about me?” Meliodas teased when Drole lingered behind. Gloxinia and Elizabeth had already flown ahead. Gloxinia had held onto Elizabeth’s hand, as if he was afraid that she would circle back given the chance. Maybe she would have. They had all been even less excited about the plan than usual. Elizabeth had been downright against it.

Drole sighed deeply, “I’m worried you’re not taking this seriously.”

“Come on, when am I not serious?” Meliodas questioned, flying up to the giant’s eye-level. Drole just gave him a look, causing Meliodas to roll his eyes. “I’ve got this.”

“If it were up to Elizabeth, you wouldn’t be doing this at all.”

“Well, Ellie’s a worrier,” Meliodas smiled. He then sighed when he only got the same apprehensive look. “The plan hasn’t changed.”

“Maybe it should,” Drole suggested. Meliodas crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding his gaze.

“We’ve been over this. I’m not abandoning him.”

“I know,” Drole acknowledged. “And we’re not asking you to.”

“Then you’re just going to have to trust me!”

“We do,” Drole promised. Meliodas felt his defensiveness falter. His hands dropped to his sides. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t worry about you.”

A small smile passed over Meliodas’ face, “We’re all taking risks here.”

“Not all of us are betraying the Demon King right under his nose,” Drole pointed out. Meliodas hummed at that.

“That’s true,” he admitted. “But we don’t have a lot of options here. Unless you honestly think we can count on Ludociel to end this war peacefully.”

Drole sighed again, “Just be careful.”

“I will,” Meliodas promised. He hesitated as he was about to fly away, glancing over his shoulder towards the spot the others had disappeared. “Look after Elizabeth for me.”

Drole nodded his head, “We’ll see you soon.”

– 3,000 years later –

“So, what exactly is this mission again?” Ban asked, glancing up at the towering building with an almost bored expression.

The massive house was like something from a horror story. It somehow looked simultaneously both sturdy and ready to collapse at any moment. Meliodas eyed the mountain behind it critically. He didn’t like the way it was more or less hanging out over the building. If something were to happen to the mountain, the building would be buried instantly.

“Ghost hunting,” Meliodas then exclaimed, throwing Ban a bright grin. Ban just rose his eyebrows at him as King groaned beside them.

“Captain,” King protested. Merlin shook her head.

“Nobody said anything about ghosts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Meliodas muttered, waving his hand at her as they came to a stop before the house. “But that’s what they were all implying. Spooky hauntings.”

“The village down the hill has been subjected to a series of… mysterious incidents,” Merlin explained. “Nobody could give a proper explanation on what exactly happened, but it has the whole village crying ghosts and monsters. They’re all blaming this house, apparently. Even the knights are scared to go near it.”

“Wimps,” Ban snorted. “So, they sent us instead.”

“Yup!” Meliodas nodded his head, still grinning. “So, now we have to go in and make sure there are no vengeful ghosts haunting the village.”

Meliodas tilted his head, regarding the house. There was something about it that seemed off. Okay, there was a lot about this that seemed off. But there was something particular about the house he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that, despite his jokes, made him want to send the others away. Unfortunately, he knew they wouldn’t accept that without a proper reason. One he didn’t have yet. Because ‘a bad feeling’ definitely wouldn’t work.

“And Diane and the others stayed back because…?” King asked. Meliodas noticed but didn’t point out his choice of wording. It wasn’t like King was subtle about his crush on Diane, and right now, Meliodas was happy for the distraction. Something to shake the unease feeling. Meliodas shrugged his shoulders casually as he explained.

“To guard the village against whatever we anger of course!” King rolled his eyes, and Meliodas gestured towards the mountain. “And that looks about ready to collapse. If there is a rockslide, Diane and Escanor will be able to protect the village, and Gowther can help with an eventual evacuation.”

“Well, at least you’ve thought this one through, Captain.”

“So, we gonna go in?” Ban questioned, sending a teasing grin in King’s direction. “Or you wanna admit that you’re scared~?”

“I am not-”

“Okay!” Meliodas cut off, before an argument could break out. “Let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get a drink instead!”

– X –

“Found any vengeful ghosts?” Meliodas asked as Merlin stepped up beside him. They’d all split up once inside the house to cover all the rooms faster. Merlin sighed, shaking her head at him again.

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Meliodas glanced at her, tilting his head at her tone.

“You’re saying you believe the villagers?”

“There are no ghosts here,” Merlin muttered, glaring at him for even making her say it aloud. “Those people don’t know what they’re talking about, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something here. There’s magical residue all over the place.”

“Yeah,” Meliodas agreed, his smile dropping. “I felt that too. Haven’t seen anything that can cause any ghost-blamed incidents though.”

“No. I haven’t either,” Merlin said as Meliodas rubbed at a spot on the floorboards with his foot. He glanced at her again. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her shoulder raised; she looked as tense as she sounded.

“But you found something?” Meliodas guessed, frowning at the pattern underneath the dust. It looked familiar… Merlin hesitated for a moment before she shook her head.

“One of the rooms was completely destroyed,” Merlin explained. “What I felt there was… familiar in a way it shouldn’t be.”

Meliodas looked up from the floor, “What do you mean?”

“It felt like miasma.”

“No,” Meliodas muttered. He crossed his own arms, shifting from foot to foot. “It can’t be. Miasma doesn’t occur naturally in this realm.”

“Which explains the rotten wood in the room,” Merlin pointed out. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s the only explanation I have. That room has been exposed to pure miasma.”

“That isn’t possible,” Meliodas protested again, unconsciously grabbing hold of the dragon handle. “The demons have been sealed off from this realm for millennia. You know that.”

“I do,” Merlin acknowledged. “But you know there have been demons who have slipped out before. The Fairy King’s Forest, Danafor-”

“That was different! Fraudrin is dead, and there is no way a red demon could set a trap like this.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, “You think this is a trap?”

“You don’t?” Meliodas questioned. “I wasn’t sure at first, but, something about this place always felt wrong. In a way, it didn’t feel wrong.”

“Like miasma.”

“Exactly. And, I mean, just look around! There’s nothing in this house. Yet the villagers are being plagued by something unseen and unknown? And no other knights will even step foot in this place. Meaning we had to come here. Then there’s the miasma, apparently, and…” Meliodas glanced down at the floor again, but before he could continue, the entire building shook violently. A loud, startling crack sounded from outside.

Meliodas and Merlin shared a knowing look, as Meliodas let out a muttered curse.

“The mountain,” Merlin agreed. Meliodas gaze flickered to the floor again before meeting her gaze.

“Whatever’s going on, we can figure it out later. We need to get the others and get out before that mountain buries us.”

– X –

As they all made it to the door, Meliodas had the feeling this natural disaster happening outside wasn’t so natural after all. Just like these ghost incidents wasn’t so ghost related. Someone had wanted them specifically to come here – had wanted him to come here. That much was clear. He didn’t know who or what or even why, but there was at least one demon involved. A fact that only made this whole situation worse.

Meliodas lingered behind as the other exited the house. Given King’s shout as he looked behind the house, they didn’t have much time.

“Merlin.” Meliodas stopped her before she could join King and Ban. She turned to him with a troubled frown. Her voice was tense as she spoke.

“We need to leave.”

“I know,” Meliodas said, but then shook his head. He rubbed his foot on the floor again, pushing away the layers of dust until she could see the carved pattern. The same pattern that had been in the other room – possibly every room. Logically, he knew it ran through the entire house. Merlin let out a loud curse as she recognized it.

“Yeah,” Meliodas agreed, his mouth twisting into a humorless smile. He reached out one hand towards the door and let his fingers push against the invisible force field there – design to keep demons and demons only from crossing. “This was definitely a trap.”

“But who-”

“There’s no time,” Meliodas cut her off. The ground was shaking with worsening tremors. “You have to get the others away from here. Keep the village safe.”

“Meliodas…” Merlin’s voice trailed off as he reached out his sword towards her. The dragon handle trembled in his hands. Ever since Danafor he had never let it out of his sight. Not even once. Until now. Merlin swallowed.

“What if…” she was stalling. They both knew it. She was no more eager to take the sword than he was to give it to her. They both realized what that meant. Only one of them was leaving this house today. Her gaze flickered back to the floor, but Meliodas shook his head. Ban and King shouted at them frantically from outside. They were out of time. Soon those two would just settle for dragging them out by force if necessary. It wouldn’t work of course, and Meliodas had no plan to have them here when their time really did run out. Big rocks were already crashing down around the house.

“You know as well as I do that not even you can undo or overpower that barrier. Not before it is already too late. I can’t leave. So, I need you to take this. You’re the only one I trust with it. Take it and get the others away.” His words were a strange mix of ordering and pleading. Tears shone in his eyes. “You know I will be fine. Take it and get them to safety.”

Reluctantly, Merlin took the sword from Meliodas’ hand. The sound of the crashing rocks almost deafening now. Before she left, she looked him straight in the eyes, “Don’t die.”

Meliodas gave her a shaky smile. Then she snapped her fingers, teleporting Ban, King, and herself down into the village. Away from harm, and away from Meliodas.

Meliodas exhaled slowly. The others were safe. The key was safe. That was all that mattered. He closed his eyes, calling every inch of his magic to him. He extended his wings behind him. Anything that could help as the mountain collapsed over him.

It wasn’t enough.

– 3,000 years ago –

Elizabeth was fluttering. Gloxinia didn’t have a better way to describe it. She was pacing back and forth, her feet barely even touching the ground. She wrung her hands together anxiously as she muttered to herself. Gloxinia would have said she looked like a wreck, but she looked like she had for the past few days.

“You’re back!” she cried out as soon as she saw them. Then she threw a glance over her shoulder, her expression darkening instantly. It seemed like her day with Ludociel had been less than pleasant. Not that Gloxinia was surprised. For all his power, the archangel was very far down on the list of people Gloxinia would willingly spend his free time with.

“What-” Elizabeth cut off herself, giving them a tight smile. Gloxinia nodded his head. This was not a conversation to have around nosy assholes. He shared a glance with Drole. If he was honest, he didn’t want to have this conversation at all. Gloxinia wanted to just erase these past hours and go back to living in blissful unawareness.

Once they’d made it far away to be unheard and undisturbed, Elizabeth spun around.

“So? What happened?” she immediately asked. “Oh, I wished I could have come with you!”

She faltered when she met their gazes. Oh, God. Gloxinia didn’t want to do this. Not when she was looking at them like that. He could see the worry in her eyes go from fearing the what ifs to something a lot more concrete; a realization that something actually had gone wrong. Gloxinia really wished he could prove her wrong.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper. Drole glanced off to the side, but when he spoke, he met her gaze. His steady calm barely hiding his own worry.

“He wasn’t there.”

Gloxinia could see the exact moment that Elizabeth processed the words. Her world shattering.

“… what?”

“It doesn’t have to mean something’s wrong!” Gloxinia hurriedly added. The words sounded false even to his own ears. Elizabeth shook her head, a few tears falling from her eyes as she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“No, it- he wouldn’t- Mel would have let us know!” Elizabeth stammered. She was right. Of course she was right. If Gloxinia had actually believed his own words, the worry wouldn’t have felt like a rock in his stomach.

“Okay, yeah, something is wrong,” he admitted shakily. “But it doesn’t have to mean the worst-case scenario.”

It was the same floundering attempts at comfort he’d been giving himself for hours by now.

“Which is?” Elizabeth asked. They all knew it – but she seemed to need to hear it.

“Worst-case,” Gloxinia said, reluctantly letting the idea form in his mind. “The Demon King knows.”

Elizabeth nodded her head, more tears rolling down her cheeks as she suppressed a sob.

“But it doesn’t have to be worst case,” Gloxinia tried again.

“He’s right,” Drole spoke up. “For all we know, this is to keep his cover. A precaution to not be discovered.”

“That’s still not a good thing, is it?” Elizabeth said shakily. Neither Gloxinia nor Drole answered her. They didn’t need to. All three already knew the answer. No matter the reason, Meliodas not showing up as planned meant that something had gone wrong. Just like they had all feared ever since they started this whole thing.

– 3,000 years later –

When Meliodas came to, it was painfully, slowly, and briefly. It wasn’t to the darkness underneath half a mountain. It was to a ray of the setting sun in his face. It was to a shadow towering above him. It was to the realization that something was horrible wrong before the darkness took over again.

To Be Continued…

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

Text

WIJ Day 9: Falling

CW: Building collapse, trapped, broken bones, fires/burns, nightmares, brief pet whump at the end, very brief vague ref to expected noncon that doesn’t happen

Beringer, Marc Sonders, and Mallie Sonders originally appeared in Telling Time and Hold On. This is for @whumpmasinjuly day 9, prompt: Falling

Houston, Texas, 2004

One moment, Miguel and Penny were sitting on the couch in his seventh floor apartment, and everything was absolutely fine. He had the Xbox controller in his hand, frowning as he watched the Elite be made an Arbiter, wondering how that tied into Master Chief and where the game was going next. “Look, Pen, I get to play as one of the Covenant.”

“Cool.” Penny was curled at the other end with a book. She didn't look up.

“Yeah, this game is going like a whole different direction than Combat Evolved, this is neat.”

“Definitely.” She still didn’t look up.

He huffed in good-natured, affectionate annoyance. God, he loved her so much.

One moment, everything was perfectly fine.

The next, he heard a sound.

Miguel looked up to see a crack in the ceiling that hadn’t been there five minutes before. “Penny? Do you see-”

She blinked, tearing herself out of the story, and followed his gaze. Her eyes widened, and his last good look at her would be seared into his mind until he begged them to take it from him. Her hair was still wet from her shower, laying dark over one brown shoulder. He remembers - or he would remember, for a little while - how her chest hitched under her tank top as she took in a sudden, sharp breath. “What do you think that’s about?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know. Uh, let’s-... let’s go downstairs and report it.” He grabbed his cell phone off the side table, while Penny dog-eared her page and set her book down. He remembered, for a long time, what book she was reading - The Da Vinci Code, because her coworkers wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Yeah, that’s scary shit. Want to get a hotel for tonight?”

“Definitely. No way I’m staying here until they fix whatever the hell that is. Maybe the upstairs people have a water leak?”

“Maybe-” There was a low rumble - the sort of thing they felt more than saw. Penny’s voice cut off, and she gasped. “Miguel! Look!”

He glanced upwards and he saw the crack in the ceiling get bigger, right before his eyes. It snaked further across the ceiling in both directions, and the goddamn roof over Miguel’s head seemed to… sag, a little.

“Oh, shit,” He whispered, and didn’t even bother to turn off the video game. He just dropped the controller and grabbed her by the arm. “We gotta go, Penny, come on, let’s go. I think the roof’s about to fall in!”

The walls around them seemed to shudder and change somehow. When he got to the door, it felt jammed shut, and he had to let go of Penny’s hand and shove his cell phone at her so he could grab on with both hands and yank as hard as he could to get it to swing open. The bottom edge, which had always been perfectly set just above the floor, scraped along the doormat and then dragged the floor.

“The walls moved,” He whispered. “The walls are wrong.” His mind couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing, and he hesitated too long.

“What?” Penny asked.

“The walls-”

He would remember the seconds of that hesitation ticking by, afterward.

“The walls are wrong-”

He would wonder if they would have made a difference.

“Penny… the building’s gonna fall!”

Maybe they would both be dead, if he’d been even a second faster or slower to realize what was going on. Maybe that would have been better.

“Oh my God,” She whispered.

He grabbed her arm and ran.

His bare feet hit cold concrete as he raced down the hall for the staircase throwing open the heavy reinforced door meant to slow down a fire. As they passed over apartments, he could see lights turning on, hear people calling out to each other. He refused to think about them, to think about anyone but Penny, anyone but himself.

“Miguel, oh my god-”

“Just run!”

They made it into the stairwell as the rumbling became a roar. The fluorescents overhead flickered wildly as he took the stairs three at a time, making it down one flight of stairs, then a second.

It happened so fast, in the end.

It happened too fast.

He had enough time to dive, pulling Penny with him into a corner underneath the fifth floor stairwell. He threw his arms around her and held on as tightly as he could, crushing her against him as she screamed.

It sounded like a whisper as the wall next to them cracked apart and gave way, and then there was nothing holding them at all.

They were falling.

The floor was still underneath him, chilly concrete painted with some kind of smooth sealant, but the wind whipped his hair and the air felt like sandpaper blasting against his skin. He screamed, too.

The roar of the building collapsing was louder.

They fell, every second slowing to individual ticks of time. He clung to her, and her nails dug into his back near his shoulder blades.

What a weird fucking way to die, he had time to think, before all thought was gone as they hit the ground.

Pain spiked up his leg and he screamed in a new way entirely. The force of their landing threw Penny away from him. He reached blindly for her and grasped only empty air. “Penny! Pen!”

“Miguel!”

He hit the ground, rolled, slammed into something like a rock with the breath knocked out of him. He gasped, rolled onto his back, and was shocked to find himself in the dark still breathing, staring upwards but seeing no stars.

No lights.

There was another rumble, and he flinched and covered his head, but nothing happened. Eventually, he pulled his hands slowly down.

The air reeked of smoke and that smell of building materials that he remembered from his time working construction back in high school, summers spent helping his uncle and dad for handfuls of cash he’d spent on girls, boys, weed, and movie nights. Way too many CDs, too, filling his CD book he kept in his car until he had to buy a second, filling that one, too. His eyes opened and closed without his say-so. He had grit in them, or it felt like it, and he coughed as his lungs kept inflating.

“What the fuck,” He whispered.

Then, from somewhere nearby, he heard Penny crying.

“Pen-... Penny-... where are you?”

“Miguel… what h, happened to us?” Penny’s voice cried out, somewhere close by but with the smoke he couldn’t see her. He coughed again, lungs fighting every breath - there was something wrong with a rib on his left side, it ached when he breathed, but it hurt so much less than his leg than he barely noticed. He lowered himself as close to… what used to be a floor… as he could get.

Little easier to breathe down here.

What had they taught, when they used to visit the fire department in elementary school? If there’s smoke, get low to the floor, because smoke and heat rise and you can make it to the door. Check the knob-

But what if there wasn’t a door, any longer?

What if he wasn’t even in a room?

“Keep talking, Pen, I’m coming to find you,” He groaned. His fingernails dug into what felt like pebbles, and he was making tiny trenches in the ground as he moved forwards, his leg shrieking agony, ignored for now. His teeth ground together.

“Miguel… I’m over here, baby, pl-... please, I’m stuck, please-”

He’d remembered her face, when he first saw her again, for a long time, too. Until he had thanked them for agreeing to take the guilt and the regret away.

He found her, only a few feet away, and she had blood in her hair and on her face, mixed with dust and dirt smeared all over. One of her arms didn’t look right, and he refused to look too closely at it, then. He refused to see the bone, visible through a break in her skin, through the blood.

For the moment all he saw was her face and that she was still alive.

For a second, his relief was greater than his terror.

Somewhere off to the side, he heard a cat meow, the scattering of bits of stone, the sound of it racing away from the rubble.

“I think-... I think that’s Abigail Henderson’s cat,” Penny managed, and then she coughed, so hard he knew even then there was more broken than her arm. “It has that weird kind of me-... meow. Miguel, what-... what happened? What just h-happened-”

“The… the whole building fell, I think.”

“Why?” The cry was a wail, not really a question.

He tried to answer anyway. “I don’t-... I don’t know, Pen.” A hint of cool air whispered around him, and he shivered. But the smoke seemed to clear, for just a minute, too. He could see, now, why he couldn’t see stars. “Oh, shit, I think we’re… I think we’re underneath it.”

“Underneath-”

“The building. Or… what was the building.”

Above him, there was concrete, and twisted metal, wires torn apart from each other. Incongruously, he could see half a sofa sticking out over to one side, the other half just… gone. Nothing left. Papers were everywhere, a smashed desktop monitor. A hairbrush, neon green backing, and he just stared at it, trying to understand.

Everyone’s entire lives buried down here with them, like a city after a volcano.

“What?” She tried to roll over, cried out in pain, and went still again, craning her neck instead to look up. “Oh-... oh my god.” Her voice shook, and he covered the last bit of distance between them to grab onto her hand, leaning his forehead down until he felt her fingers twitching against his skin. “Oh my God, we’re… we’re buried al, alive-”

She started to cry, sobbing helplessly, loud wracking sobs that made her hiss in pain, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. He just held on, as best he could, because he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to help.

Faintly, he could hear other people calling out to each other. He could hear water rushing from broken pipes somewhere nearby. There was a new rumble, something shifted, and people screamed. He tensed, lowering his head, but… nothing new fell on them. The rumbling stopped.

“I think we’re-... we’re in a pocket, or something,” He said, his voice coming out airier than he meant it to. He couldn’t comfort her if he sounded scared, could he? He tried to swallow, but even his saliva felt thick with dust and smoke. “Penny, I think we’re… I think it’s pretty stable right here. We just have to wait for the, uh, the firefighters-... they’re going to send firefighters, right?”

“Um, yes, r-right, I think they send firefighters. I saw-... I remember from when that place fell, the, uh, the vacation place-”

“Right, right, that place in Florida, the firefighters were on the scene super fast. We just have to hold on for a little while.” He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. “Just… just a little longer. Can you-... can you move at all?”

She swallowed, looking at him, the whites of her eyes seeming too bright in the darkness. She shook her head, looking back over her shoulder. The sob she wasn’t allowing out any longer was still in the thick of her voice. “I-I’m stuck under something, Miguel. I’m… oh god, I’m stuck-... my l-legs-... something’s on my legs-”

“Okay, uh, maybe I can pull you out-” He managed to get onto his knees, despite the pain racing through his nerves. He gritted his teeth and held her shoulders, trying to pull backwards.

She shrieked, holding tightly to him, clawing at him. He pulled and pulled but then her screaming fell apart, broke back into sobs, shaking her head. She had moved... maybe an inch. “Stop! Stop, I can’t do this, stop stop stop stop-”

“It’s okay,” He whispered quickly, letting go and settling back down in front of her. “It’s okay. I’m done, I’m done. It’s okay.”

She nodded, weeping softly.

He looked at the concrete and rebar and everything else on top of her, then back to her, seeming so... so small. “It’s okay, Pen. The firefighters will have something to move that off you, you’re going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. We’re okay. We’re not dead, we’re not dead.”

Yet, his brain filled in, but he recoiled from that thought. He had read books on people who survived weird things like this, and they all said that believing you would live was more important than anything else.

Don’t lose hope. Don’t give up.

He looked around the little open space they were in, bordered on every side by ruin and rubble. His own ankle and leg throbbed, but it was… it wasn’t important, compared to so much of what he could feel right now.

He couldn’t stop thinking they would get out, or maybe they wouldn’t.

“Right, it’ll be f-fine.” She nodded, but she didn’t believe him. He didn’t believe himself. “They’ll save us.”

“They will.” He put a hand to the side of her face, and she tipped her cheek into it, eyes closing. He kept his forehead against hers, breathing slowly in and out, until his racing heart began, finally, to calm. The adrenaline just couldn’t keep rising any longer. “Penny, they will.”

The pounding headache started sometime around when the adrenaline crashed. But he kept whispering to her, as much as he could, until he ran out of words, and then they simply laid there, breathing together in the dark.

When they heard the sirens, they both began to shout, hoping someone would call back.

Someone did.

They waited, listening to the rescuers working to move enough of the wreckage to find them. Miguel found a loose piece of metal he refused to think too much about - somebody’s bedframe, another piece of a person’s destroyed life - and banged it against a nearby pipe to make noise until his arms wore out.

He broke the pipe enough to get some water from it, so he and Penny could have a little to drink. He moved to her with water cupped in his hands for her to sip.

The firefighters kept saying, just hold on a little longer, we’re coming for you, we’re working your way, just hold on.

Just hold on a little longer.

By the time the rescuers were close enough, though, the fires had spread, and their pocket of air was starting to heat up.

Beringer’s eyes open in the darkness. He stares upward, seeing no stars, and feels his breath coming in harsh rasping gasps, shallowing fighting for air against the smoke filtering down into his lungs.

“Penny,” He whispers, and doesn’t know whose name that is. Only that she’s dying, and he’s watching her fade, hour by hour, as the smoke gets thicker.

His hands move up to his own throat-

And find his collar, still there, the tag clinking softly, worn metal against his desperately seeking fingers. He rubs at his number, at his name, again and again. Runs his fingers over the leather that curves around his throat, eyes closing as tears prick hot and demanding against the insides of his eyelids.

They force their way out, run down the sides of his face, dampen his ears and then soak into the pillowcase beneath.

His heart pounds, but he doesn’t remember why.

Falling, and fire.

And her voice.

Penny, I’m so sorry-

Kid, you gotta get outta there right the hell now or it’s going to fall on you-

I’m so sorry, g-goodbye, I’m so sorry-

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers, without remembering quite who he owes the apology to.

There’s a warm hand on his shoulder through the cotton of his shirt and he startles, jerking to the side with a whimper, looking up wide-eyed to find Marc Sonders leaning over him, wearing just a white tank top and boxer shorts. In the other queen-sized bed, Marc’s little girl shifts, murmuring to herself, her loveys clutched to her chest, their soft little heads just under her chin. He has seen Mallie asleep for naptime or overnights a hundred times.

People who think children sleep silent or still are people who have never had them. Not that Beringer has, but…

But every child was his, for as long as he could care for them, until WRU ripped them out of his arms when they got too old to stay.

Never again.

“You okay?” Marc asks, in a whisper. There’s real concern in his face, his voice, his eyes. He’s so easy to lie to, so easy to fool.

Beringer wants to whisper, I was going to hit you over the head, and you worry about me? Which one of us has had our brain emptied out, exactly? But Marc doesn’t know that part, about how Beringer was going to hurt him. So all he does is swallow, lick at his lips, and slowly nods. “I’m-... I’m okay. Just-”

“Nightmares. Yeah, you guys get those a lot.” Marc glances back at Mallie, then carefully seats himself at the edge of Beringer’s bed. “You usually show up running from the kind of stuff that causes nightmares, they tell us. Although I guess if you don’t have ‘em before you show up, we make sure you get ‘em, huh?”

Beringer pushes himself up to seated, back against his damp pillows, looking closely at Marc. His short hair is all mussed up from sleeping, and it’s… kind of adorable-looking. “Do yours get nightmares from you?” He asks, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his legs.

Marc looks down. His half-smile is only a little sad, in the dim blue light that makes its way through from outside the window, around the edges of the heavy curtains pulled tight. “Not from me,” He says, finally. “But some of them come with nightmares, when they start. Things that they tried to get rid of keep coming back up. The Drip works, it really does, but if there’s really severe trauma, sometimes… sometimes-”

“Sometimes,” Beringer whispers, thinking of another terrible late-night movie, of sitting up glued to the screen watching shuffling zombies while the kids and the other daycare pets slept. “Sometimes, the dead don’t die.”

“Uh… right. Yeah. Or, abusive parents, whatever. I get them in with the counselors, I get them meds to help them sleep, whatever work signs off on. But none of their nightmares come from me, at least. That’s… that’s something, right?”

“It’s something.” Beringer can’t quite keep the dry humor from his voice, and both of them huff soft laughter, trying not to wake Mallie up. “How close are we to Hope, Marc?”

“I don’t know. I just know it’s in Montana, near the border with Canada, kind of close to Idaho. Probably… two more days in hotels before we get there. Is that okay? Mallie can’t really handle those all-day car rides super well-”

“That’s fine. That’s just fine. We should probably go to a store and get new clothes, though.” Beringer hesitates, then reaches out, and closes his hand over Marc’s, feels his fingers shift underneath his grip before Marc turns to look at him. “Marc… do you want to kiss me right now?”

Marc’s breath catches. He looks away, then back, but sidelong, as if afraid it will all dissolve. His cheeks have gone all red, just like on TV. Beringer feels his scars shift and itch, the ropey burns that had worked up his back as he had fought like hell to get through to the firefighters, to the rescuers holding out a hand, begging him to push himself through the space, to survive-

Penny was still alive when he left her-

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

Forgets her.

Marc is still watching him when his eyes open again. He smiles, but it’s slightly sad, and soft. “Not tonight,” Marc says, gently. “But if you want… do you want to watch TV for a while? Just until you feel good to go back to sleep again?”

Beringer had expected heavy hands, hard kisses. Had expected to have his own boxers pulled down over his hip, to have to make frantic explanations he can’t quite recall when Marc sees the burn scars that cover his legs, his shoulders, his back, parts of his stomach and chest. When that doesn’t happen, it takes him seconds to process, and then he smiles - brighter than he means to, more sincere than he intended - and nods. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, Marc.”

“Cool. Good. All right. Just stay there.”

Marc stands, wanders over to find the remote where it still rests on the TV stand, and comes back. He climbs into Beringer’s bed, but all he does is sit with his back to the headboard and his body on top of the covers. He turns the TV on and picks some random James Bond movie playing at 3 am, settling back to just… sit there, with Beringer, in the dark.

Beringer turns to look at him, the lines of his profile written sharply in the cold light of the television. When his hand moves, hesitantly, Marc feels his questing touch and their hands press together, palm to palm.

That’s it.

Marc doesn’t push for a kiss, or say Beringer owes him anything for this escape. Beringer looks back at the TV, but he doesn’t see - or hear - a thing.

Shit.

He’s still falling, isn’t he?

Just a different way of hanging in the air before he hits the ground and breaks.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @orchidscript @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up

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