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ladamedusoif · 2 months

Text

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story.

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders.

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being.

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness.

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now.

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes.

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did.

Jackson stands before you.

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey.

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can.

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes.

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street.

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.”

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before.

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation.

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground.

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him.

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones.

Raiders.

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name.

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off.

Joel takes aim.

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening.

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not.

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle.

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground.

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick.

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg.

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle.

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being.

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you.

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol.

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking.

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe.

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours.

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance.

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?”

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood.

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch.

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…”

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you.

Fuck it.

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now.

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x disabled f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #soft joel miller #disabled f!reader #disabled reader fic #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months

Text

Fever

Nathan Bateman x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: “You’ve heard of a good night orgasm, right? Well, this is a get well one.” Nathan's sick and has a pretty strange idea for a cure.

A/N: Nathan brainrot so big atm guys. Nathan and Reader are already in a relationship.

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, banging when someone's ill, swearing, typos, overuse of italics, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2870

________________________________

Nathan was surprisingly good when you were ill. Attentive, caring, considerate.

You’d asked him about it once, his offhand reply being a mumbled: “If there’s a bug in a system, you fix it, you don’t just wait and hope it’ll sort itself out.”

When Nathan was sick however, it was a completely different story.

He was absolutely god fucking awful to deal with.

Grumpiness up to eleven. Snapping at everything and refusing to slow down or take a break. Working himself to the point of exhaustion and then further still.

It was idiotic. But it was Nathan.

So when you walked into the living room to see him on the sofa, curled up and looking washed out it was a bit unexpected.

He definitely wasn’t hung over, hung over Nathan was a sight to behold. Constantly trying new concoctions and cures that you were sure wouldn’t have been out of place in a history book about medieval torture.

You paused, a little frown forming on your forehead. Uncertain at first if he was sleeping or not, and whether to disturb him.

He seemingly made the decision for you. “Baby?” He flopped his hand onto the back of the sofa, vaguely in your direction, and groped around a little, his eyes still closed.

He sounded weak, drawn in, and sorry for himself. Very unlike the Nathan you were used to.

You moved to him quickly, taking his hand and squeezing before leaning down and placing your cool hand on his feverish forehead.

He let out a little sigh of contentment.

“You’re sick.” You muttered, kissing his temple.

“No.” He grumbled. There he was, there was your Nathan. He kept his eyes closed.

“Uh huh.”

“Uh uh.” He tugged on your hand lightly, moving it closer to his chest. “Not sick.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“Bateria, or viruses. Invading my bloodstream.”

“So… sickness then?”

He cracked open his eyes to give you a look. “Come lay down with me?”

The puppy dog expression nearly got you, Nathan was very good at sweetness when he wanted something.

“So you can get me sick?” You chuckled.

“Yes.” He pouted.

“Are you admitting you’re unwell?”

“Just lay down with me.” He grumbled, his usual sarcasm didn’t quite have the same bite when he looked as if he might nod off at any moment.

“Okay.” You pretended that it was a huge effort on your part, moving to sit. But Nathan shifted quickly, a little too quickly, as small multi-colored spots danced in front of his eyes. And urged you into laying down flat on your back, your head against the armrest, before snuggling up to you.

He laid his head on your chest and breathed out deeply, closing his eyes once more.

You put your arm around him, just nudging him a little closer and he let out a little murmur of comfort.

He nodded off almost immediately, breathing softly against you.

With the sudden technical skill of a surgeon, you managed to fish your phone out of your pocket without disturbing him and spent the better part of 40 minutes browsing mindlessly.

Nathan shifted, groaning a little as he moved. He stayed quiet for a few seconds and you thought he had fallen back asleep before he sighed again and looked up at you. Blinking his eyes heavily.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 12:30.”

“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes and buried his face back into your chest. “I feel like shit.” His breath was hot.

“You look like shit too.”

“Thanks.”

You rubbed his back and smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.” His voice was still muffled from where he was pressed against you. “A new body maybe.”

You leant a little closer and whispered conspiratorially. “That can be arranged.”

Nathan sniggered into you and stretched, flopping his left leg over both of yours.

The press of his hard cock against you made you pause.

You said nothing for a moment, just waiting until he slowly started to grind against your leg. A subtle action, seemingly trying to be sneaky about it.

“Nathan.”

“Hmm?” He said, keeping his head tucked into your chest.

You put your phone down. “What are you doing?” You said in a sing-song voice.

“... Nothing.”

You pressed your leg against his crotch and he moaned loudly, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Sure, sounds like nothing.” You tease.

He groaned and looked up at you, a small pout on his lips. “It’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

He grumbled quietly, shifting again in a pretense moving so that he could prop himself up on his elbow. But really using it as an excuse to grind up against you again.

“No,” he sulked, his cheeks a little flush. “It’s not. Can’t help it.”

“Can’t you?” You teased, unable to stop smiling.

“No, not when you’re all close and, ugh,” he groaned, burying his head between your breasts and pushing them up against his face, “these are right here.”

You laughed loudly. “Am I that distracting?”

He nodded. “Very.”

You chuckled again. “Sorry.”

“I was dreaming about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

“Good dream?”

He moaned softly and shifted again, settling fully on top of you and weakly rubbing his dick against your thighs. “Yeah.”

You grinned. “I’m not fucking you while you’re sick Nathan.”

He let out a low groan of frustration. “I’m not sick.”

“Yes you are.”

“Finnneee, I’m sick, but fucking you would cure me, I’m sure of it.”

You can’t stop giggling at the weak lamenting tone he’d quickly adopted.

He grinned, chuckling before he quickly schooled his face back into a pout and puppy dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

You laughed harder.

“Don’t you love me?” He batted his eyes at you.

The fit of giggles wouldn’t stop.

“Come on,” he sat up a little, leaning closer so that his face was near yours. “You’ve heard of a good night orgasm, right? Well, this is a get well one.”

“A get well orgasm?”

“Yeah, you know? Releases endorphins, makes your white blood cells work faster, kills bacteria…” He gave you a lopsided grin. “I’m convincing you, aren’t I?”

“I’m glad you’re not a biologist.”

He purposefully poked out his bottom lip. “Please? I’m sick.”

“Nathan.” You grinned, enjoying his little display far more than you would ever let on.

“You’re meant to take care of me.”

“And, why is that?” You lean closer to his face, nearly brushing your lips against his and moving back slightly when he tried to close the gap.

He groaned a little, wiggling his hips between your legs and you let him. “Because you’re kind, because you love me.”

“I don’t know about that.” You teased.

“Because you love me.” He repeated, giving you a little glare. “Because it’ll help, and…” he sighed, purposely dropping his shoulders and failing his arms a little.

This was too good. Far too good. Something about his slightly forlorn brattiness was just so endearing. “And?”

“And I’m really fucking horny okay? Like so horny, like just let me rub against you and I’ll cum in my pants and take some medicine and go to sleep, I promise.”

You bite your lips together and smile. “You’d actually take some medicine?”

He nodded. Nathan not shutting down the idea of taking pills was a feat on its own.

“Alright.”

His whole face lit up. “Alright?”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, but you gotta behave, take the tablets, and rest, yeah? Work on getting better.”

He nodded quickly. Seemingly finding new energy as he sat up a little.

“Okay,” you began to move your legs, intending to get up from the settee and drop to your knees.

“No, no, no,” Nathan hooked his hand behind your knee, urging you back to your previous position. “Please, stay here, hmm? I want to…” He pulled at your waistband softly.

You took pity on him. “Do you want these off?”

“I want it all off.”

You sighed exasperatedly, an over the top sound for his benefit only. But you smiled as you did so. Quickly, you began to pull off your clothing. “You sure you’ll be okay, I don’t want you passing out or dying on me.”

Nathan sniggered. “I’ll be fine.”

He helped you out of your top and pulled your trousers off your feet before dumping your clothes in a pile on the floor.

He let out a satisfied groan and kissed your breasts, nuzzling into your skin happily.

You laughed as his beard tickled your skin.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbled, breaking away from the embrace only to pull off his hoodie.

“The point of this is to make you feel good.”

He tutted and rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ me, Bateman, I’ll-”

With a surprising speed, he leant up and kissed you hungrily, slipping his tongue into your mouth and grinding his still clothed erection against your core.

He broke the kiss, grinning wildly when you moaned.

You scowled. “Trying to give me your germs?”

“Oh, you’ve already been exposed to them, baby.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to be exposed to them anymore,” you playfully swatted at his arm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned before gently taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it softly before lapping at it with board flat licks.

You squirmed under him, your thighs clenching around his waist instinctively. Your breathing hitched and you tried to get a hold of yourself. “What’s with all this ‘yeah, yeah’ attitude?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, scooting further down your body. “You’ll have to fuck it out of me I guess.” He gave you a perfectly innocent smile before diving between your legs.

You didn’t know whose moan was louder, yours or Nathan's, the second his lips and tongue touched your core.

He laps broad strokes through your folds, ending with a swirl of his tongue around your clit before repeating the whole process over again. He groans with each lick, unable and unwilling to stop himself from grinding against the settee as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Humming happily when you buck and arch up against him.

He looked up at you, watching your face as you moan with his large doe eyes blown wide with lust.

Teasingly, he dips his tongue into your heat, growling from deep within his chest as new wetness flows out of you. He slides up again, achingly slowly to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Slowly he circles it twice with the very tip of his tongue, drawing out the sensation as you gasp and moan under him, before attacking you with long, wide licks fully against your clit. Repeating the motion again and again and again until you can’t even begin to think of anything else.

“Nathan,” you moan, your thighs shaking, your breath catching in your throat as you beg him to go faster, harder, anything. “Please.”

He ignores you, seemingly content to continue his onslaught at the exact same pace and firm pressure. But his eyes twinkle as you plead.

You try to buck up against him quicker, moving your hips so you can reach that sweet peak that’s so tantalisingly close.

Nathan predicts your movement, knowing all your moves, and leans up slightly with every thrust, only allowing the same constant press and glide of his tongue against you.

“Nathan, Nathan, please,” you implore him as your release creeps closer, sparking up your spine and down your legs.

He keeps his pace, watching you with glee as he slowly pushes you over the edge.

You cry out loudly, your thighs clamping around his head as he continues to lap at you. Pleasure washes over you as your cum soaks into his beard. He allows himself a split second of a pause to savour it, moan quietly at the taste, before his eyes are back open and he’s continuing those long, long licks.

As you start to come down your legs relax and Nathan pushes them lightly back down, still not taking a break in his actions.

“Nathan,” you whine, tingles of oversensitivity running over your clit.

He keeps his eyes on your face, hungry and wild. “Uh uh,” he mumbles against you, still licking.

You squirm, trying to get away from his tongue even as pleasure starts to build up again. You know that if you really wanted him to stop all you had to do was say the word and he would.

This time your orgasm builds faster, hardly waiting until your first has finished.

You rock against his mouth, moving with him as he sneaks his hand under your ass and starts to urge you to chase his tongue.

He presses into you harder, pushing at you with his hand until you’re nearly curled up on yourself. And he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you pause as he pushes you closer and closer, relentless in his need to get you to cum on his tongue one more time.

Your moan reaches an even higher pitch as you grasp at the cushions and sofa, trying to gain any traction to thrust up against him harder.

Nathan takes his cue, quickly latching onto your clit and sucking, flicking the tip of his tongue lightly over the very tip and you scream.

Pleasure burns along your nerves, whiting out your vision as you buck against him uncontrollably, cumming so hard you see stars.

He moans, continuously sucking and following your movements, allowing you to rut against his face however you want as you cum.

The next thing you know he’s kneeling between your open legs, his beard satuatured with your wetness.

He suddenly doesn’t look ill at all, and you begin you wonder if you’ve been had.

For a second he watches your chest rapidly rise and fall as your breathing slows before he is taking himself in hand and notching the head of his fat cock at your entrance.

His eyes flick up to your face for a second, silently asking.

You nod, too exhausted to do much more, and then he’s pushing in.

You gasp, the stretch of him is always a little surprising at first, especially when you’re spread this wide.

Nathan bites his lip, easing in slowly and gazing down at you like you’re a banquet set out just for him.

He slides in deeper, inching himself in and running his hand up the back of your left thigh, pressing firmly and helping to angle you so your leg is flush against his stomach and chest.

You let out a little whine as he bucks, finally sheathing himself completely.

Nathan gasps, his eyes rolling back as your walls squeeze him, and holds on tightly to the leg pressed to his chest.

He doesn’t start to thrust harshly like you expect, doesn’t piston in and out of you, instead, he starts to grind slowly, barely pulling out and keeping you pressed tightly against him.

His fingers dig into your leg, his other hand going down to softly circle your throbbing clit as he rocks and buries his face into your calf.

You can tell he’s close, the way his stomach muscles tense, how his eyes are screwed shut. You move a little, leaning up slightly so you can meet his deep grinds. For a second, you open your mouth to speak, intending to tell him that it’s okay, that he should just let go and cum like you know he’s desperate to.

But he moves his leg forward, changing the angle he’s kneeling at and you sob in pleasure as his head hits perfectly deep.

You fall back a little with the intensity, unable to control yourself as he moves and does it again.

His eyes are open ever so slightly now, watching you with his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpering as you fall apart under him.

“There?” He whispers and you nod, sobbing as he repeatedly grindes into you, pushing firmly against the same spot over, and over, and over.

You’re unable to form words, unable to think as he just keeps rocking, pushing you further and further into the sofa, splitting you open so completely and shattering your sanity.

You don’t know how much more of this you can take, pleasure running like a live wire along every nerve so that it’s almost painful, almost too much to bear.

Nathan lets out a deep groan, slipping ever so slightly forward so that he has to put his hand next to your head, almost caging you in. His eyebrows pinched together in ecstasy. “Baby…”

And that’s it. That’s what throws you over the edge.

You grab hold of his shoulders as you cum, hard. Surprised at the suddenness and intensity. The force of it robs you of words, of breath as you shake and tense, your toes curling as you clench down on his cock and milk him for everything he’s got.

Nathan cums a second later, watching you fall apart and moaning out your name as he feels you pulse around him. He keeps himself fully in you, cumming as deeply as he can before pressing his forehead to yours and breathing deeply.

“I feel better.” He whispers, worn out and exhausted, before he kisses you.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @mbakubabe @whatthefishh @romanarose @pimosworld @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#nathan bateman #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #x reader #nathan bateman x you #x you #nathan bateman x female reader #x female reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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alloftheimagines · 1 year

Text

joel miller | the cure

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 3.5k

warnings: episode nine spoilers, canon level violence, probably incorrect medical stuff, joel murdering a bunch of people but in a sexy way, angst, she/her!reader

prompts: reader swaps places with Ellie (either as the one who’s immune or maybe they both are but Ellie isn’t put in that situation with the hospital), and reader is the one Joel rescues.

I’d love to request 13 and 70 from the prompt list you reblogged, with Joel Miller please! I adore your writing ❤️

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl

When Joel wakes in the hospital alone, he knows something is wrong. The last he remembers is you and Ellie at his side as you searched for a way into the hospital, Ellie reading her puns aloud while you rolled your eyes and tried (failed) not to laugh.

He sits up quickly, heart pounding against his rib cage. He feels like sand is falling through his fingers, grain by grain. He’s woken up and lost something again, and this time you aren’t here to tell him it was just a dream. It’s real now, and the harder he clutches, the quicker he loses his grip.

As he stands on wobbly feet, the door creaks open. Ellie appears, and a kernel of relief drops to his stomach. Just one, but it’s enough to ground him for a minute.

And then he sees her red-rimmed eyes and pale face, and the kernel explodes, raining down more panic. You’re not with her. Where are you?

“Ellie?” he whispers, pulling her in by the shoulder and checking her body for any injuries.

Her throat bobs. “They took her. They took her to surgery, Joel, but they wouldn’t take me. I think… I think something is wrong. I think—”

��You’re awake.” Marlene steps through the door with a pleasant smile, and Ellie’s voice fades quickly. “Sorry we had to knock you out. They didn’t know who you were, not until they brought you in.”

“Where is she?” Joel asks, his voice steady and low, like gravel crunching under heavy boots.

Marlene slips her hands into her pockets, and there is something, a quick flash, in her dark eyes that Joel is too worried to miss. She’s good at blinking it away, but it’s too late. He saw.

“She’s already in surgery.” With a sigh, she pulls Joel and Ellie’s belongings from the table and hands them over. “You did a good job getting them here, Joel. So good we decided it wouldn’t be right to operate on Ellie, too. Not until we know for sure their immunity can help with the cure.”

Joel’s eyes narrow, his fingers curling into fists at his side. He grabs the bags roughly, all too aware of the way Ellie is shrinking into his side as though afraid. “So how long will it take? When can I see her?”

Pressing her lips together, Marlene’s wary glance passes between Ellie and Joel. “To test for a cure, we need to take the cordyceps from the host’s body. Do you understand what that means?”

He doesn’t, not at first. Not until he thinks of all the things he’s been told about the illness over the years. The way you spoke about it when you told him you couldn’t get sick and how the Fireflies believed a rare fungal infection you battled as an infant, years before the outbreak, left you immune to cordyceps. Because that infection altered your body’s immune system, and…

And the way fungal infections are recognised by your brain.

“Cordyceps…” He feels dizzy. Sick. “Cordyceps infect the brain. Removing it…”

Removing it would mean removing you.

Killing you.

Marlene nods, sympathy softening her features. Fuck her sympathy, Joel thinks as his blood begins to boil, bones stiffening with that protectiveness he’s always let consume him when it comes to the few people he loves.

He lurches forward on that primal instinct alone, because there is no way in hell he can let you die. “You’ll kill her!”

Guards filter into the room immediately, shoving Joel so the backs of his knees knock against the bed.

Ellie is trembling beside him. “Did you even fucking tell her?” she yells. “Does she know that she’s going to die on that fucking operating table, you piece of shit?”

“I’m sure she’d choose it this way,” Marlene snaps. “You’re the alternative, and we weren’t going to make a fourteen-year-old a martyr. Not if we don’t have to.”

“Martyrs choose to be martyrs!” Joel’s voice bellows like thunder through the room as he struggles against the armed guards. “You had me bring her here to fucking kill her!” The words shatter against the wall like ceramic as he realises the twisted truth of them.

He hauled you and Ellie across the fucking country… for this. To have you laid out like an animal and experimented on. Killed. You’d never shown any hint that you thought this was how it would end. You’d talked about going back to Tommy’s after all this was over, getting a house for all three of you. Your face lit up when you told Ellie she’d have her own room, and you’d glanced at him with both a question and a promise glinting in your eyes because you both knew. There was more to this now than when you’d begun as frosty acquaintances stuck on the same path. You’d gotten close, spent freezing evenings huddled by the fire and drinking whiskey from Joel’s flask. You’d saved his life more times than he could count and vice versa.

He’d torn down his armour for you despite his better judgement, because he couldn’t help but fall for you even if you were too damn young and pretty for him. Even if he was certain he was no good for you.

This morning he’d woken beside you, bathed in your light and warmth, and he’d been certain something had changed. That all the pain he’d experienced in his life finally had a reason and he could let it go, start fresh. Be yours rather than lost and bitter and alone. His cheeks had ached because he’d smiled and smiled and smiled, every time you spoke, every time you looked at him.

They can't just take that away. Not for a cure that might not even come to work. Not for anything. Damn it, he hasn’t come this far to lose you now.

“I’m giving you the option to leave,” Marlene says. “To get out of here and take the kid with you. You get to keep her safe because Y/N took her place. So let it go, Joel. Leave now, calmly, and let us do the rest. We could have a cure in a year’s time, maybe two. Do you understand that? All of this could be over soon.”

He knows better than to believe that after all he’s seen. It was never the infection that was the problem. It was humanity — and the absence of it when civilisation deteriorated. It was the Davids of the worlds, it was Fedra, it was murder and fascism and blood and sacrifice and ruin.

And why the hell should you have to die for a world that never gave you a damn thing? You, who still knows how to love and go gently, protect and fight for what matters? Why should he have to lose the one good thing he's known in this life?

The answer is simple: he shouldn’t. He won’t.

A veil of eerie calm passes over him. He nods, and the guards relax. Ellie is shouting, swearing, thumping him on the chest as he’s escorted out with her in tow. He leaves Marlene behind. Lets her think he's leaving quietly.

And then knocks out the guards and steals their rifles, forced to be part of the world that doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Because there is one thing that does deserve it, still, and he’ll fight like hell to keep it.

***

He moves through the hospital like ripples through a lake, fracturing everything in his wake. He shoots without hearing the gunfire, without feeling his finger on the trigger. He told Ellie to run and hide, but she was too stubborn and too worried about you to agree, so now she follows behind him, squeezing her eyes shut each time a Firefly falls. He doesn’t want her to see this, but there isn’t time to stop it now. He knows she wants you safe as much as he does, and that has to be enough.

It feels like hours before he finds you in the operating room, surrounded by nurses and doctors in blue scrubs. Your eyes are closed, your body still, and for a moment he thinks he’s too late. His knees threaten to give out as he barges in, weapon poised, Ellie close behind. You’re tethered to wires and IVs, but he sees no blood, no evidence that they’d already begun.

“I won’t let you take her!” the doctor says, wielding his scalpel. Joel shoots him, and he crumples to the floor without a whimper, without anything.

The nurses cower. Joel can taste their fear like metal, but he can’t feel it. It seeps into him like a ghost’s touch; unable to scratch his surface, but still able to penetrate. He can’t focus on it. Not when you’re still lying there, looking so small, so unlike you, in a hospital gown.

“Take out the IVs,” he instructs, his voice unwavering as he motions to you.

The nurse shakes her head.

“Now!” he bellows, and she’s smart enough to listen. She pulls the wires from your hand before stumbling back again.

Joel pays them no more heed as he steps towards you, his breath ragged as he smooths the hair from your face. You don’t react, don’t move, but you’re unharmed. Thank god, you’re unharmed.

“I got you, baby,” he whispers, his hands trembling as he slips one beneath your legs and the other around your back, scooping you up. “I’m here. I’m here now.”

You sink into his chest, and he knows that no matter what he’s done, no matter the horrors he’s committed, he made the right choice. Perhaps not for the world, or for the families of the people he’s murdered, but for you, and for Ellie, and for him. For his own little universe, where love has finally blossomed after a twenty-year drought.

That’s enough for him.

***

You wake feeling groggy, the sun dappling your face and a strange hum beneath you. It takes you a moment to realise it’s a car engine, and you frown, sitting up with a start. The back of Joel’s salt-and-pepper head is the first thing you notice, and relief floods you — intensified when you find Ellie in the passenger seat.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” Joel glances at you through the rearview, his cheek pinching with a concerned smile. “How you feeling?”

A million memories try to soak into your mind at once. You remember almost nothing since approaching the hospital with Joel, and your body feels heavy. You look down to find you’re not in your own clothes, but someone else’s.

“What happened?”

Joel’s jaw sets, and a shiver rises inside you, because you know him, and you know that something has gone horribly wrong. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel, and neither he nor Ellie will meet your gaze as he speaks. “We’ll talk about it when we’re off the road.”

“No. Talk about it now,” you demand. More images flood back. You were in a hospital gown, being prepped for surgery. Marlene… Doctors and nurses…

The cure. They decided to use you, not Ellie.

“Did they… did they do it?”

With a sigh, Joel veers off the road, parking up beside a thick, shadowy treeline. The sun is amber in the sky, setting or rising, you don’t know.

The silence blankets you when the engine dulls, and your heart thuds as you try desperately to meet his eye. He keeps looking down and around, anywhere but at you. You try to get Ellie instead, fingers curling into the spongy seats as you lean forward. She only fidgets with her backpack. Her hands tremble.

“Somebody needs to tell me what the fuck is happening!” you snap, because it’s your body, your duty now, and why won’t they look at you? Why won’t they say a word? You went through hell to get to Utah, for Christ’s sake. What was it for if all you get is this confusing, awful silence?

Without a word, Joel opens the car door, instructing Ellie to give you a minute. You follow, your legs no longer feeling like legs and your mind clouded by fog. Both your doors slam shut, and you lean against the car for support as he finally turns to look at you. His expression is unreadable, and that makes you afraid. It reminds you of the day you met him, when he held a gun to you before you could reach for your own. When he was just a stranger who Marlene had sworn could get you to the Fireflies' base.

When he speaks, though, he’s anything but cold. “I couldn’t let them do it,” he whispers, pain straining his voice.

Your face creases in confusion. “What? After everything we risked, everything we went through—”

“It would kill you!” he shouts. And then, lower: “They were going to kill you. Take the cordyceps out of your fucking brain and leave you… gone. Did you know that? Did they tell you?”

You’re speechless, your throat thick with fear, shock, and your stomach churning with nausea. “That’s why they didn’t want Ellie.”

“They figured murdering a fourteen-year-old was a step too far.” Bitterness soaks his words.

You massage your temples as you try to process it, but at the forefront of everything is guilt. You feel sick, shivery, wrong. You’re the world’s only hope… and you haven’t given them what they needed.

And then you think of Marlene, who promised you so much. You were her friend for years. She looked you in the eyes before surgery and told you you were doing the right thing. She sent you to your execution.

The worst part is that if you’d known it would kill you, you probably still would have agreed if it meant fixing what the infection has broken.

You glance at Joel as you understand all the things he’s not saying. “What the fuck did you do, Joel?” you breathe shakily.

His mouth stretches into a thin line of devastation, and he doesn’t have to say it. “I couldn’t let them… I couldn’t. It wasn’t right.”

You doubt whatever went down on Joel’s end was right, either. There’s no way the Fireflies would have let you go without a fight.

Oh, god.

You sink against the car, panic rising in you. When Joel tries to grab your hand, you tear it away, surprising even yourself.

“Hey,” he says, pleading. “Don’t do this. I had to keep you safe. I had to…”

“It wasn’t your choice!”

“It sure as hell wasn’t yours either!” Joel blurted, anger roughening the edges. “They were just gonna take you away, no fuckin’ warning, no askin’, no nothin’! It’s sick!”

“I’m just one person, Joel. They were trying to save the world!”

“You’re the only fuckin’ person who matters! You, and her!” He jabs a finger in Ellie’s direction, mouth curling with something foul. “It ain’t your responsibility to die for this world. They said it might not even work, made it sound like they were just using you as a lab rat. And what would you be saving anyway? You wanna sacrifice yourself for a world where the government scares everybody into submission and rapists and murderers and fuckin’ cannibals run the place? Huh?”

You flinch at the memory of Silver Lake and David, and how it had felt to lose Sam and Henry months before. Joel’s right; it’s hard to want to save the world when the world has done nothing but kick you down, again and again.

But whatever Joel did, whatever pain he’s left with… you don’t want the stains on his soul to be in your name. He deserves better than that.

When you say nothing, Joel softens, running a hand through his bristly beard as his eyes begin to glisten. “When are you going to understand, darlin’...? I’d never let anyone hurt you. Not if I could help it.”

Your chin wobbles with the promise of tears as you look at him properly for the first time. He looks tired, drawn, haunted.

You did that. Or, rather, he did that for you.

“Marlene… where is she?” You’re afraid to ask, but you have to know.

He gulps, bowing his head. “Gone. They’re all gone.”

“Shit.” You hiss the curse as the tears finally fall, rocking against the weight of what you now know to be true.

“She was never going to stop,” he says.

“I was… I was supposed to be the cure, Joel.” The words rattle in your broken chest like a song scratched out on old vinyl.

He shakes his head. “Not like this. Not if it kills you.”

“I can’t…” You want to break, and you look at him and wonder how he’s still standing. What the hell did he do to get you here, get you safe? Slowly, you put your hand on his chest. “God, Joel. What… I can’t be worth all this. I can’t be responsible for all this.”

“You ain’t responsible for anything. I made this decision.” He covers your hand with his own, and you feel his chest thumping. “I did this.”

“That’s what I mean. I don’t want this for you. I don’t…” You stifle a sob. “I was just your fucking cargo. Why would you do all of this? Why would you stop them from finding a cure, stop them from changing the world, for me? You have to live with that. Not me. I know you, Joel, and I know you don’t need another thing weighing on your soul like this. I can’t be the reason you do. I can’t…”

Surprise flickers across his features. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t get it, do you?”

You blink, lost, and he squeezes your hand tighter, his forehead close enough to brush yours.

“You still don’t know that I love you.”

Your world stutters to a stop with those words. Of course you’d known there was chemistry burning between you, palpable enough that sometimes you can barely breathe. But you never thought Joel would let himself love.

And yet here he is. Destroying the world to save you and his girl. You’ve seen the way he’s warmed to Ellie. It shouldn’t surprise you that you matter too. But you’d never believe a man like him, a man who breathes grief and hostility and strength, could soften for you.

“I’m not… I’m not proud,” he says. “I know the mark this’ll leave on my soul. But Jesus, darlin’, my soul was already black and damned before you met me. I’m willing to carry it. I’m willing to do whatever it takes if it means you’re still here with me. I don’t know what sort of man that makes me. Not a good one, that’s for sure. But I couldn’t just let them kill you. I couldn’t do that. Not for anything. The cure might save the world, or it might not. But I saved my world in that hospital. I had to. Please understand, baby… I had to.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. You catch it with the pad of your thumb even as your own face remains damp and awestricken. You don’t understand. You’re not sure you ever will. But you love him anyway, because you’ve never known somebody to fight for people the way he does, and he’s a good father, a good brother, even when he isn’t. Even when he’s forced to make bad choices, do bad things. He never pretends to be a hero, never asks for redemption.

But he’s asking you now — begging, even — to understand, because he loves you and because he couldn’t give up on you, and that means something. That means everything.

You press your lips to his, and they’re rough and shaky and new. He pulls you closer, clutching onto your shirt like it’s all he has to hold onto.

You don’t know what it means. You don’t know what happens next, or whether it’s right to go on living when you could be saving the world.

You only know that you’re not ready to die yet, not when there is so much of him left to love, and so much to experience with Ellie. God, you dread to think what she saw in that hospital.

“Is Ellie okay?” you ask tentatively as you pull away.

Joel glances into the car. “She needs you as much as I do.”

And you need them, more than you ever planned for. You lean into Joel’s chest and close your eyes, exhaustion weighing on your bones but fire kindled in your heart.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s go home,” he says into your hair.

The world is still broken, but you get to go home.

That has to be worth something.

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katsukiizmoon · 1 year

Text

╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🥛 ┊masterlist ꒱

check my tagging system here !

Katsuki Bakugou | 내 사랑

『♡』 Boba Time 『♡』 Thirst, drabbles, shorts etc.

◦ to love katsuki | fluff ◦ hold me tight | fluff : hurt comfort : mild depression : 1.4k ◦ dumbasses | friends to lovers : smut : 2k ◦ teasing thirst | suggestive : smutty ◦ play fighting | fluff ◦ little melon | fluff : future baby implied ◦ katsuki will always put you together | best friends to lovers : fluff : neurodivergent reader ◦ aphrodisiac quirk #01 | smut : lots of smut : friends/partner to lover

The Hana Series | life with baby girl Hana -> check the tag “Hana Series” for quick and easy navigation [p.p = postpartum] Hana # 02 | p.p urinary incontinence : mildly suggestive : comfort : 1.1k -> Post-Partum urinary incontinence is the bane of your existence, ruining everything, but Katsuki kisses you like it doesn’t matter.

Hana # 03 | p.p check up : needles / baby getting vaccines : soft katsuki ->Katsuki decides he hates phlebotomists, nurses and doctors more than just about anything.

『♡』 Types of Kisses 『♡』 Types of kisses from Katsuki. Small, ongoing blurbs and such of different types of kisses. Mixed bag so each will have its own name + tags :)

◦ nightmare | fluff + self explanatory

『♡』 One Shots 『♡』

Feeling Alive | fluff : smut : prince!bkg : 5.7k -> The years have flown by with Katsuki, who fills your body and mind with fire. You'll keep him with you till the day you die and then after that, thanking whatever deities there are for him. Maybe you were put on this earth to love him, like every other lifetime.

Eunoia | fluff : smut : 4.5k -> a well mind, beautiful thinking.

『♡』 Star Anise 『♡』 headcanons

『♡』 Multi-Chapters 『♡』

Without | hurt/comfort : slow burn : angst : romance : eventual smut : mental illness : dead dove do not eat : ongoing : semi-hiatus -> Wondering through life is like inhaling thick clouds and peering into fog. Suffocating. The days are indistinguishable from smeared ink on paper as they repeat. A tall blonde shoves his head into the clouds of your life, willingly, and enjoys the high it gives him. You’ll never forgive him.

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meownotgood · 2 years

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a little death / hayakawa aki

You meant everything to him, and Aki promised to keep you safe, even if it meant dying for you.

fic playlist: click here!

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 20.6k

tags: 18+, smut, angst, smoking, love confessing, that one trope where they step in front to protect you, tending to wounds, hand job, finger sucking, tender sex, aki is touch-starved and needy as hell

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

Human life is expendable. In this world, it always has been. If someone dies, they'll simply be replaced, such is the perpetual ill-fated existence of a devil hunter.

In a way, it's like the cigarettes Aki smokes. Sometimes they burn halfway, sometimes they burn down to ash, but when you're done, you just smoke another. They do well to remind him of the fragility of life in more ways than one. He inhales, and even though he knows it's slowly killing him, when the rich taste of smoke fills his lungs, all he can feel is heaven. Yeah, she was right. Life is so much better when you have something to take the edge off.

Aki pulled the cigarette from his lips, tapping it with his finger over the ashtray and watching the dying embers scatter. The smoke from his exhale rose into an oddly calm, cloudless blue sky. As it left his lungs, Aki could almost feel his stresses melt into the tranquility of the cool breeze. Almost. He was only escaping from his work for a short time, because once this cigarette was spent, it was begrudgingly back into the fray.

Why was it always on the nicest of days that Aki had to be stuck working? Actually, that's a stupid question, considering he works pretty much every day. But shame on him for wanting to patrol peacefully with you and enjoy the nice weather for once.

Whatever, the devil this time was supposed to be weak anyways. Only you and him were dispatched to the scene, and you were told it was okay to take your time, so this must be something the both of you could handle quite easily. Soon, the sun would set, but maybe if you both managed to get this job done quickly, he'd be able to enjoy what was left of the day.

"Shit, Aki, I can't find mine. Can I have one of yours?"

"Nope, it's my last one. Sorry." Aki replied, taking another long drag from the cigarette.

"Dammit, I left my jacket at home 'cause it was supposed to be hot today. They must still be in my pocket."

The sun was beaming down, blistering heat radiating off the concrete sidewalk, but while standing in a large shadow cast by the looming buildings, a soft breeze dancing through the air cut through the tepidity. It brushed against Aki's arms bared by rolled up sleeves, tickling the side of his face and the hair on the back of his neck. This corner of the city was calm and quiet today, with the only sound being the rhythmic hum from cars on the nearby street whizzing by.

"Hey, Aki, let me have a hit of that one."

Aki shook his head. "No way."

"Oh come on, I'll be quick. There's no way I'm getting through this mission without some nicotine in my system."

Aki took the thin cigarette from his mouth once more, holding it carefully between his fingers, puffs of smoke wisping up from the firefly light on the end. He turned his head, finally meeting your pleading gaze. You cocked your head at him and he hesitated, if only for a moment, before sighing in defeat. He brought the cigarette to your lips until they closed around it.

"Inhale."

You followed the command, breathing in as he held the half-burned cig steady. The moment the smoke hit your lungs, it instantly flooded your senses with pure bliss.

It wasn't very hard to convince Aki when it came to you, never has been. But there's something about sharing his cigarette with you, something about watching you take a hit between his fingers, eyes locked onto his. Something about it enthralled him every time. So if you asked, he was sure to let you have a taste, and this time was no different.

He pulled away when you took in a sufficient breath, bringing the cig back to his own lips. You tilted your head upwards, catching glimpses of pale blue obscured by a tangled web of power lines before the smoke was blown out steadily from your mouth.

Funny, at one point, you told Aki you'd never smoke. Yet now, here you were. Somehow, "Ew, I'd never," turned into, "Fine, I'll try it," turned into, "What brand do you get again? I'm just curious," turned into now, all right before his eyes, and all because of him. It filled him with a little sense of pride.

If you were going to be a devil hunter beside him, experiencing the same loss and turmoil as he has his entire life for the rest of yours, he supposed you deserved something to indulge in. Or at least, that's what someone else taught him a long time ago. When you first became his partner, whether it was a nostalgic force of habit or an urge to put you through the same rite of passage he himself once underwent, Aki made it his goal to convince you to smoke.

With how adamantly against it you were at first, he almost gave up. But after countless missions together, months spent growing closer and further trusting one another, something seemed to crack. He managed to convince you to try it, and in no time at all, he had turned you into just as much of a hopeless addict as he was. It was a satisfying feeling at first, but now, that feeling wasn't enjoyed without a sharp pang of guilt.

Aki's life was expendable. If he died, what impact would he leave on the world? He had no loved ones, no family, no-one he cared about, besides you. And the very day after he breathed his last, you'd find that he'd be replaced, just as simply as everyone he himself has come to lose. You'd forget about him and move on with your new partner. A stick of tobacco was certainly not going to be his final nail in the coffin, but it doesn't really matter either way, does it?

Your life though, your life was different. Your life was precious. It was filled with time he didn't have, filled with hope he didn't have. In himself, he saw nothing, but in you, he saw love. To him, you were love. You were the embodiment of everything that made life worth living, everything beautiful. A star-filled night spent drinking the sweetest liquor, or finally getting home and taking off your shoes. The world beat him and broke him down, but in your soul, he found solace.

But hey, that's something he would never admit. Not out loud, anyways.

Regardless, you were someone he found worth protecting, and that's exactly what Aki vowed he would do, and that's exactly why he changed his mind. If he could go back, he would have never given you a cigarette. Hell, he would have quit smoking if that's what it took to get you to never try one. Your life was precious, and he should have never taught you to shorten it.

Ugh, he was thinking too much. What he should do is shake these thoughts from his head and start focusing on the mission.

Aki took a final drag in before stamping the cigarette bud out into the ashtray. "Alright," He spoke through a mouthful of smoke, "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You pushed yourself off of the wall you had been leaning on, stretching before you stood up straight. "You okay Aki? You've been spacing out."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." Aki replied nonchalantly. You walked closer to him, hands reaching to grab his tie, and you pulled on the fabric, adjusting it straight around his collar.

"Remember," Aki starts, "If things go bad, you stand behind me, understand?"

"Don't worry, we've got this." You stated, looking up at him, "And after we're done, we can go out for some celebration drinks."

When your gaze met his, Aki felt his worries fade away, like snow melting to a warm flame. He smiled softly, something only you could seem to make him do, he thinks. Drinks together after a stressful day sounded great. All he had to do was get through this mission, and then he could relax. And with the two of you, it would be easy, right?

Aki nodded, "Right. Let's go."

—

Devil Extermination request for the Public Safety Commission. Devil sighting inside block #9's parking garage. According to the request, the devil fled to the 3rd floor. It is described as a rather weak Spike Devil. All civilians have been evacuated safely from the area. Dispatching two devil hunters from Public Safety Devil Extermination Special Division 4.

It was never supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be an easy job. It was supposed to be to go in, locate the devil in the building, and eliminate it. Get things done like you both always do and get out, simple as that. So how did you end up getting cornered like this?

From the minute you saw the state of disarray the parking garage was in, you knew "rather weak" was a complete lie. You've been a devil hunter long enough to know this much damage couldn't be caused by a mere low-rate devil. Cars were toppled everywhere. Some appeared to be flung with incredible force, and some were covered in holes where something had pierced straight through the metal. A chill was sent up your spine when you began to wonder what that something could be. This devil was definitely much stronger than it may have appeared.

Likewise, you've been fighting alongside Aki long enough to know when he gets quiet like this, gritting his teeth roughly, sweat coating his furrowed brows, it's usually a bad sign. The only time he goes silent is when he knows things are about to go to shit.

With no words exchanged, you made your way to the third floor alongside Aki. Neither of you were sure what to expect, but you both were saying silent prayers in your minds as you climbed the stairs. Prayers that this devil really was weak, and prayers that today wouldn't be either of your last. Once you were face to face with the titular Spike Devil though, your assumptions were dreadfully proven.

First of all, it was no small-fry, boasting a rather large body of contorted limbs and mismatched appendages. It was a disgusting freak of nature, like every devil you've come across. What was most interesting were the equally sizeable spines that covered the entirety of its body.

The devil appeared to be able to shoot them out and recall them back to its body at will, so not only did it have great range and offense, but when recalled, the spikes also provided an excellent layer of defense. They weren't porcupine levels of spines either. The size was comparable to railroad spikes, and they were heavy enough that it took a wide swing of your sword to deflect them, leaving your arms aching.

Second of all, thanks to all of those limbs helping to propel it, the damn thing was blisteringly fast and incredibly relentless. Its movements were a blur you could hardly even make out. All you could manage to do was block, block, block, never having the opportunity to get a hit in.

Despite the growing severity of the situation, you were able to control your breathing and maintain some of your cool. You were both going to get out of this alive, you always do, don't you? After all, you had your full trust placed in Aki, and he had his full trust placed in you. You stood back to back, pressed close to one another, covering for each other's blind spots to deflect the devil's attacks.

Aki has always been more agile than you, so at this point, you were relying on him to land a blow while you focused on simply keeping yourself from being impaled. Unfortunately, try as he might, he was just as unsuccessful as you. At least he was able to take a few swings at it, which was more than you were able to accomplish, but they proved to be fruitless when the devil dodged them easily.

With every movement of your sword, it seemed to become heavier and heavier in your hands. In your chest, you could feel every single pound of your heart. It was hard to breathe, almost like the air was being forced into your lungs. You were slowing down, threatened to succumb to your exhaustion.

Aki could sense it. Where you started to lag, he only moved faster, swinging his blade wider, harder. He blocked where you failed to, and before you knew it, the fight was in a league all its own and you truly weren't a part of it anymore. Aki deflected every hit on his own while slowly backing away with you behind him, taking every opportunity, each break in the devil's attacks to put space in between the two of you and itself.

Eventually, you both were able to back up far enough that the devil's attacks subsided a little, although not completely. Instead of sending out as many continual attacks as it could, the devil instead honed in on concentrated strikes. It was trying to eliminate one of you, and it clearly didn't care which, with one strong blow. Aki deflected the first hit, but not without briefly staggering under the weight of the impact.

"Go. Run away."

Your attention was pulled away from the fight when Aki suddenly spoke, his voice breathless yet resolute. It was the first thing he'd said in a frighteningly long amount of time. His command hung in the air, his eyes remaining locked on the devil as he deflected another attack.

Do something, fucking do something, you screamed at yourself, but you were rooted in place and couldn't think, couldn't move. Everything was a blur, moving in fast motion while you were stuck in the past. All you were able to do was uselessly stand at Aki's side, your eyes darting between him and the devil as he blocked strikes with the flat length of his sword, loud clangs of metal against metal echoing throughout the garage.

Aki abruptly turned to you, grabbing your shoulder, and his iron grip paired with his sharp gaze meeting yours was enough to briefly shake you from your trance. He raised his voice, shouting, "Did you not hear me?!"

"I… I heard you, but I…" You stammered frantically, trying to come up with the words, trying to come up with anything at all. Right now, you're aware that you're only a liability, just someone he has to protect. But you didn't want to leave him. You couldn't. You were hoping somehow, someway, you'd find a way to assist. If you searched your brain hard enough, you'd have to come up with something.

Aki's face seemed to soften the slightest amount when he spoke again, staring into your eyes with an expression ever pleading. "I can handle this, you're only going to get hurt if you stay so please, please just-"

You should do something. Anything. Something to help him, something more useful, something better than just standing there.

No, you should run. You should listen to him. You should take the chance he's made for you and get out. So why weren't you? Why were you numb, unable to move?

Wait, when did he start standing so close in front of you? And when did the noise of clanging metal cease?

And why was Aki not moving?

The air was filled with a suffocating silence, save for a faint plip, plap sound of droplets splattering on concrete and the twofold echo of weary gasps for breath. You were terrified to look, shaky vision remaining fixated on the devil, but when a spike stained crimson was recalled to its body and the sound grew from a light dribble to a loud splatter, your eyes darted downwards.

Blood. Aki's blood.

Aki's sword slipped from his loose grasp, falling to the ground with a clatter amongst the spots of red painting the floor below. His legs buckled, and as he swayed forward, you reached out and caught him by his waist.

"Aki, oh my God, I'm so sorry, Aki please-"

Everything was scrambled, surreal, and you were fumbling over your words, shaking, struggling to hold up his weight and not even sure what was going through your mind anymore.

Aki wrapped his arm around your shoulders, still wobbling but regaining a little bit of his balance. He opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he tried, he sputtered into a cough, spitting up spots of blood into his hand.

His mind was a dizzying blur, coherent thoughts swirling, drowned out by a razor-edged pain that kept hammering away at his senses. He's losing blood. He can feel it warm and wet against his side. Even though his adrenaline is pumping right now, he can't have much consciousness left before he's done.

Make the best call, otherwise we're both dying here.

The devil seemed to be taunting you now, taking its time to lick the blood off the spike clean. But Aki was the only one who noticed this. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Despite how much it made your heart sink to see his face contorted in such pain, his lips parted as he took in ragged breaths, your gaze remained locked on. You focused only on watching the heave of his chest, right above where his white dress shirt is stained a vivid red, because you were terrified of the thought that if you looked away, when you looked back, it wouldn't rise and fall anymore.

At least the devil seemed to have finally let its guard down. The damn thing probably thought it had already won. The two of you had lured it all the way to the edge of the parking garage. Orange rays from the setting sun cast large shadows upon the devil's figure.

Now was the only chance Aki had to finish it, and he needed to do so quick, before the monster started paying attention again.

"Aki, please, come on, we need to get out of here-"

Make the best call, make the best call, make the best call…

Was this close enough? Was it too dangerous to summon it here? What if the entire building toppled?

No, stop hesitating or you'll die, idiot. He had to do it, and he had to do it right now.

Aki brought a heavy, trembling hand up, middle and ring fingers pressed faint to the pad of his thumb. Through blurry vision growing dim, he aligned the circle between his fingers with the shadowy silhouette of the devil.

Before he even spoke, he could feel the blood bubbling up in his aching throat, but he forced himself to push past it. He choked out the one word he needed so quietly he might as well have been mouthing it.

"Kon."

The fox's head burst through the nearest wall like it was nothing, its might obscuring the glow of the setting sun, and in one fell swoop, the Spike Devil was gone, swallowed in the Fox Devil's jaws whole. Aki used a final burst of energy to hurriedly twist until he was in front of you. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you close, his tall frame leant over yours to shield you from the flying debris.

It's over.

The devil was taken down, Aki kept you safe, and once this realization hit him, the ache in his chest seemed to increase exponentially. It was a piercing, hot, all-encompassing pain, like nothing he could even describe, and nothing like anything he's ever felt before in his life. His ears were ringing, and every breath he took in was starting to become shorter and shorter without his control.

There's so many things he wants to tell you. He wants to say it's alright, we did it. Don't worry about me because everything is going to be okay. But words wouldn't form anymore, let alone comprehensible thoughts. He was at the end of his rope now, wasn't he?

It hurts, it's fading away, everything is fading. I don't want to die, God, please don't let me die.

"Aki, hang in there, look at me, please."

But your face was a blur, a mere swirl of colors growing hazy, almost as if he was being swallowed into the darkness of a long, pitch-black tunnel.

Don't give in just yet, don't give in, it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts…

"Focus on me, please don't close your eyes…"

But your voice was growing fainter, muddier, as if Aki was plunged underwater, the depths threatening to claim him, and his eyelids were starting to feel so, so heavy.

I'm going to die.

The realization should have been terrifying. Instead, he felt release, like finally letting go when your hands had been burning from holding on for far too long. The end should have hit him much harder than it did. Instead, he found it soothing, like a river's rippling waters finally settling into a still, tranquil pool.

"Aki…"

It's okay, please don't cry. I didn't have that much time left, anyways.

It was never supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be an easy job, and now the person you cared for the most was dying in your arms.

"Can you hear me? Aki?"

At this point, if you were saying anything, he couldn't tell what it was anymore. He could feel himself slipping, losing the fight, and before he knew it, he was speaking before he was thinking. Soft words tumbled from his aching throat at barely more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

And then, he was done.

Aki's head fell to rest on your shoulder. His body went limp against yours, motionless and heavy. You could feel the ever so subtle tickle of his shallow breaths against your neck.

He was barely breathing, but at least he wasn't dead yet.

—

It's happening again. He's there, but at the same time, he is watching himself, a mere observer to the snowglobe that is the microcosm of his life. Inside the dome is a familiar house, surrounded by dead trees with branches clothed in white. Through frosted glass, he can see it; he can see himself, tiny and meager, while as innocent and pure as the pale white snow. But all he can do is watch.

All he can do is watch as the scene plays out just as he knew it would, just as he's seen in his dreams countless times before. Someone shakes the globe, and all at once, his home is torn into the sky, blown away with the same disorder present in a gorgeous flurry of snowflakes and glitter.

It's strange. Seeing it now, so small, so far away, a swirl of mesmerizing crystalline, it almost seems beautiful. But as he watches, he can taste the bile rising in his throat, he is weighed down by the sinking of his heart, and in that moment, he's filled with the same sense of dread he felt that day. The feeling of being lost at sea with nothing but miles and miles of blue in sight. Nowhere to run to, no-one to reach out and help you, left treading water until you drown in the deep.

Aki feels cold, down to his bones. Is it because of the snow? Or is it coming from within?

The scene fades, and a new one opens on what he remembers to be the first time he wielded a sword. He watches a much younger, inexperienced version of himself through the shiny reflection on the blade. His fragile hands grip the hilt tight and he swings with a reckless naiveté. God, he was so young to be fighting, and even though he tried to hide it, Aki knew him better than anyone, and he knew the boy he saw in the mirror was terrified.

He became a spectator to his first devil kill. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he was overwhelmed with the satisfaction of finally doing something useful. From then on, he killed more, more. He didn't stop, not even for a second.

His sword was plunged into devil after devil, but the madness didn't end for him once they were dead. He cut their bodies open and searched through every last revolting inch of their insides until he found what he was looking for. When he was done, his palms were stained red, down to the crevices. He remembers feeling as though it would never wash out of his pores. With his blade coated in blood, Aki could no longer see through the steel, and so the scene faded anew.

When the picture took shape once more, Aki was standing on a lonely street. Through a wide set of windows, he could see himself inside, eating dinner with his late partner. Or perhaps it was lunch, he can't remember. The inside of the restaurant appeared to be empty apart from his table, and although he could see himself clearly, the one sitting in the chair across from him was blurred. He knew exactly who it was, and yet, her face was obscured and just wasn't quite right.

"Aki, wanna job hop to the civilian side with me?"

Even though he was watching from outside, he could hear the conversation clear as day, like it was coming from inside his brain.

"We don't have to hunt that damn gun, y'know?"

Aki didn't look up, although now, he wished he did, because if he had, maybe he would have remembered her face more.

"I'll go drinking with you as much as you want," He replied firmly, "But I will never go to the civilian sector."

If he could go back now, would he have changed his answer?

Right now, he isn't sure, but in this world where he's only an onlooker, it doesn't really matter. He is on the outside looking in, left staring at his double and the hazy vision of Himeno, the window pane seeming fogged up around her form as she lights a familiar cigarette.

Why was Aki seeing all of these things? Is this what they call your life flashing before your eyes?

He stood idly, watching the film continue to play out, although he already knew how it was going to end. For a second time, Himeno died right in front of him, and for a second time, he was utterly powerless to stop it. He was a prisoner to a story already told, and even though the rest of the memory was fuzzy, he could remember everything about her as he watched her slowly disappear.

That memory was always the clearest. His own brain is so cruel.

Aki couldn't bear to see much more of this. He turned and started walking, then running, leaving the stage behind him.

Perhaps it was because he hoped to enter a memory more pleasant, or perhaps it was because your face was the last thing he saw, your voice the last thing he heard, and so you were still lingering in the labyrinth of his mind. Whatever it was, Aki began to reflect on recollections of you.

The first time he gave you a cigarette. He demonstrated how to smoke it before passing it off to you. When you coughed and sputtered, it was almost endearing, like watching a younger version of himself. You didn't give up though, and when he watched you, he couldn't help but smile. That day, he smiled for what was the first time in a long time.

The first mission you completed together. He didn't think it was anything to write home about, but you were so excited, and some of that cheerfulness couldn't help but be rubbed off on him. You praised him for how strong he was, rambled about how much you wished you could be a devil hunter as strong as him. Never become like me, was what he wanted to say, but instead, he offered to train with you, show you some of what he knows. You graciously accepted, and after that, training sessions together became a regular occurance. That was only the start of Aki spending time with you outside of work.

The first time he took you to his family's grave. He told you it wouldn't be anything fun, but you insisted on coming. He's still not sure why you did.

It was chilly that day. You both left early in the morning. You slept on his shoulder on the train ride there. Then, on the boat, it was freezing, so while you looked out at the water, he took off his jacket and draped it over the two of you like a blanket with his shoulder pressed against yours. Lastly was the bus, and even though it was totally empty, for some reason, he stood close to you. Close enough that every bump in the road caused him to lean into you. Close enough that his fingers kept accidentally brushing against yours.

Another thing he's not sure of is why you decided to grab his hand then. It could be because you were getting tired of all those accidents, or maybe it was because you figured it was awfully close anyways, so you might as well. It wouldn't be a far extension of what was already occurring.

Or possibly, it was because you could see right through him. You could tell deep down, he was troubled with the reminders of all of this, of everything he lost that day. So when you took his hand, it was to give him something to hold on to. A small form of comfort. He likes to think the reason was the latter.

"Your hands are cold." You commented.

"Yours are warm."

The trip was always a long one, but with you, it seemed to go by in an instant. You prayed alongside him, and something about you being there made it easier, made him feel less alone.

In his eyes, in every memory, your face was clear. He could see every detail of it, but he swore it was more beautiful than he remembered.

The first time you came over to his house, he showed you around, and when you were hungry, he peeled and cut an apple for you. He remembers the way your face lit up when you saw the bunny-shaped slices, the way you smiled at him as you ate. You watched movies together, talked about stupid shit and gossiped about co-workers while forgetting about the world. For just one night, everything was normal. Aki remembers wishing he could freeze time right at that moment.

The first time you went out drinking together, you both probably shared more secrets than necessary, but Aki can hardly recall what was said. What he does remember is taking you home when you got too drunk, your whole body leaning on him, your infectious laugh when you wobbled, and the way you relied on him to keep you safe without question. It made him feel important, made him feel like he was needed by someone.

It's the dullest of moments that Aki remembers the clearest, he notes. They also happen to be the ones he loves the most, because when every devil might be what drives you to the brink of insanity, a little bit of something simple goes a long way.

Aki relives a conversation he had with you on his balcony, over a shared cigarette and under the dull light of the crescent moon. He recalls something you asked him that night.

"If you could go back and change your past, would you?"

You posed it as a pretty casual question, teasing him when he simply replied he doesn't know.

Ask him any other time, and Aki would have said yes, absolutely. There were so many things he'd like to change about his life. So many people he'd want to save, and when he really thinks about it, all of this started with that stupid house and that damn gun. Against the impossible odds, he'd find a way to prevent it, find a way to save his family. Find a way to fix his life.

Now though? He's come to feel a bit differently, not just about that question, but about his life as a whole. No matter how much you wish it could, the past can't be changed. The only thing you can do is learn to live with it. Accomplish your goals and treasure what you have left until it's gone. And if you do, you might just find something that makes all the suffering worth it in the end. Someone who makes you look forward, instead of looking back all the time.

The only thing he regrets is ever giving you a damn cigarette.

This world has always hated him from the start. Was showing him all of this the universe's way of trying to get him to finally give up?

To hell with that. Aki still had a job to do, and for once in his life, he had someone out there waiting for him. Someone who would cry if he died, and he can't let that happen. He needed to get out of here.

"Aki, where are we going?"

With no warning, he found himself on a busy street, and he heard your voice clearly through the suffocating crowd.

"We have to patrol the south side," Came his response, although it wasn't coming from his own mouth. Aki turned to where he heard it, and standing out from the group as if a spotlight was shown upon them was the striking image of himself walking with you close on his heels.

"Try to keep up," His duplicate continued, "I won't have time to babysit you."

"You must have pretty low expectations of me, sir."

"I have low expectations of everyone, especially softies like yourself."

Aki felt his hands ball up into fists. Man, was he always such an asshole?

"And why's that?"

"Because everyone in Public Safety ends up either-"

Aki charged forward, closing the distance between himself and you. Before he let himself say another word, he reached out and grabbed your hand. Your palm was warm, and he could feel it when you gripped back, the touch distinct and real. For a moment, his heart skipped and he hesitated, a gravity almost drawing him away, but he held on tight and let it pull him with you in tow.

He moved as quickly as he could manage, shouldering past those in the way, and when the sea of people seemed to part, he started running.

"Aki, wait!" Your voice cried out from behind him, and you were slowing down, stumbling, struggling to keep up. "Where the hell are we going?"

His vision was growing muddled, and he wasn't sure where he even was anymore. His surroundings were a confusing, vague blur, in an uncanny kind of way.

"We're getting out of here," He replied, and the next thing he said poured from his mouth thoughtlessly, "I'm not ready to die."

"You're not dead, Aki."

Aki froze in place. "I'm not?" He murmured, although to be honest, he knew a long time ago that he wasn't. He knew from the moment he first saw your face, and from the second he felt your touch so strongly when he grabbed your hand. He could feel this was only a dream that he was on the edge of waking up from.

And as if on cue, a loud boom pierced right through the languor, and the calm haze of a quiet dream was severed in favor of a heart-pounding awakening.

—

I'm not dead yet.

Aki awoke suddenly, the fog blanketing his mind rapidly fading to a clear consciousness. The first thing he heard was the crack of thunder, and once his eyes fluttered open, the second thing was the rolling thrum thereafter. He fought against the grogginess still lingering in his mind and the heavy weight of his eyelids begging to close, attempting to take in the area around him. The room was dim, covered in a veil of grey, and the gentle patter of rain could be heard outside.

He sat there for a moment, pondering the loose threads from his dream still lingering in his memory. As his senses returned, he felt something in his open hand, holding it carefully, but firm. Your touch blended so well with his dream that it took him a bit before he noticed. Fabric rustled as he turned to look at you, your head rested on the edge of the bed. You had pulled up a chair next to him, and although he couldn't tell since you were facing away, he guessed you were sleeping.

Aki felt his body relax and his heartbeat slow once he saw you, and for a minute he was settled there, simply enjoying the feeling of your hand in his. It was warm. So warm.

He could tell from his surroundings that he must be in the hospital. How long had he been asleep? Or, more importantly, how long had you been waiting for him to wake up? Hopefully he didn't worry you for too long, he thought, and as he attempted to recall how he got himself into this in the first place, the memory of the day prior began to return.

That's right, you and him were dispatched on an extermination mission for the Spike Devil, and that's where he became injured. He remembered fighting alongside you, stepping in front of you, and taking a spike right through his stomach. Aki could feel his middle wrapped in something snug, and to confirm it true, he snaked his free hand up his hospital gown. Sure enough, when his fingers met his side, he felt the smooth cotton of a bandage cloth.

The next thing he recalled was the pain. How sharp and hot it was, and then the feeling of almost dying that followed. It felt oddly calm, like slipping into a peaceful slumber, but now, the mental image it conjured utterly terrified him.

He summoned the Fox Devil, didn't he? Yeah, he definitely did. He can't forget to feed it later.

You weren't hurt, were you? No, if you were here now, you must have gotten out safely. Aki remembered your panicked voice as you begged for him to stay awake. The look on your face that shot a bullet through his heart when he realized you were crying. He remembered being held in your arms, slowly slipping away, whispering his last words…

Oh, fuck. They were supposed to be his last words, anyways, but considering he was alive and well right now, they certainly didn't turn out to be. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

In the moment, his mind was in shambles, and all he was concerned with was making sure something left his mouth so you could hear his voice one last time. He wanted those words to be meaningful and good, but he didn't have much time nor energy left to decide on them. The grim prospect of death was staring him right in the eyes, and he could tell from the dwindling sand within the hourglass that he didn't have much time left. He dug a hole for his own grave, and as he did, he unearthed feelings he had long since buried in the dirt. In the moment, all he could think of was not allowing those feelings to be forever buried alongside him.

Aki could feel his heart constrict in his chest. I love you. I love you. I love you. Each resoundment was like a punch to the gut, echoing throughout his head, spoken in his own voice. Out of all the things he could have said, why did he have to go with that? Maybe it would have been endearing if he had actually ended up six feet under, but in this instance, all he did was force his feelings onto you.

He shouldn't have said it. The time and place couldn't have been any more horrible. You shouldn't feel pressured to accept his confession just because he almost died, so Aki decided the first thing he's going to do when you wake up is take it all back. He'll tell you he didn't mean any of it, even if that was an outright lie.

Speaking frankly, Aki didn't know much about love, but somewhere down the line, he became pretty sure he was in love with you. He could feel it clearly in the way his heart came alive every time he was around you, and in the way your presence alone brought him so much peace. You treated his life as anything but expendable, and you cared about him in a way almost no-one else ever has. There was something about you that captivated him and made him grow him very, very attached, until before he realized what was happening, you became the most precious thing in his life.

Nevertheless, for so many reasons, he swallowed those feelings and kept them concealed. You were his partner firstly, his friend secondly, and he couldn't allow something stupid like this to get in the way of either of your jobs. Besides, if you grew closer to each other, it would only lead to more hurt when one of you inevitably departed. Aki had to keep you at a certain distance. For his own sake and yours, you two could never be more than friends.

But when you find yourself on the brink of death, something about you changes. You start thinking of all those things you've tried to keep hidden and you're met with a choice: speak now, or die beside them.

Oh, whatever. What's done is done, so it's not worth agonizing over now, is it?

Searching for something to distract himself, Aki finally decided to push himself up, doing so slowly as to not wake you. The second he rose, he immediately felt the strain of fatigue on his body, like a hook held by a taut line threatening to drag him backwards. The slightest bit of movement also triggered a steady throb in his side. He brushed strands of long hair from his face, rubbed some of the stress from his temple, and forced himself to stay up.

A dull flash of lightning brought his attention to the window beside him. Gentle droplets tapped against the glass, then steadily cascaded down, obscuring the view with blurry streaks of water. Dark, puffy clouds hung low in the sky and blotted out the light from the sun. The slosh of water could be heard when cars in the streets below passed by, headlights casting streaks of yellow that travelled across the room.

For a while, Aki watched the rain, the soft rhythm beginning to settle his thoughts. He could still feel your hand in his, and he faintly closed his fingers around it, holding it in a tender grip. The drizzle outside bounced off of the sidewalk and soaked into the soil. Where it had the chance, it collected into puddles that reflected the city's colorful glow. It could have been his imagination, but he swore the storm was only picking up.

"Aki?"

A voice calling his name stirred him, but before he could fully turn towards it, before he could even form a word in response, you had already flung forward and wrapped your arms around him. Aki's breath hitched in his throat. For a few seconds, he stalled, before he hesitantly returned the embrace, shaky arms clutching around your back. Loosely at first, but tight when he gave in.

You held him close, close enough that how glad you were to see he was okay was conveyed through your touch alone, and without a single word spoken, he understood. You could feel his heart beating through his chest and the fabric of his clothes was balled up tight in your hands.

His heartbeat. In the grand scheme of things, it was inconsequential, but hearing it now made it sound like the world's most perfect melody.

Although his lips trembled like there was something he wished to say, Aki was rendered speechless until you pulled apart. You held his shoulders, the look on his face one of relief. When he met your gaze, he got lost in your eyes, and when he spoke to end the silence, his voice was low. To hear it after so long made it sound especially comforting.

"How long have you been here?"

"Since this afternoon," You replied, "They've been letting me off work early 'cause I can't patrol without a buddy."

Aki looked away, his face tensed in thought, and you spoke again, figuring you knew what was on his mind. "You've been asleep for three days now."

Three days? He should be grateful he wasn't out for longer, but three days was still far too long to have left you worrying about him. He was so stupid, so sloppy, such an idiot. How could he let something like this happen?

Aki sighed, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? For what?"

"Fuck, for everything," He answered, his voice fragile, like it was glass about to break into a million little pieces. "For failing you, for making you worry about me, for what I-"

The hospital room's door opening with a creak caused Aki to trail off, his attention and yours shifted to a nurse standing in the hallway.

The nurse stated simply, "Visiting hours were over a long time ago."

Your hesitation made Aki almost think you were going to protest, but instead, you responded, "Okay, I'm leaving in a minute."

When the nurse left, you pulled Aki into another curt hug. You were about to tell him not to apologize because there was nothing to apologize for, but when he rested his head on your shoulder, you heard him say quietly into your ear, "You should leave now anyways, the rain is picking up."

As much as you didn't want to, you cut the hug short and decided to leave the conversation there, since it seemed like what Aki wanted you to do. You began shuffling around the room to find your belongings. "Yeah, I guess you're right, but I wanted to talk to you for longer."

"I know. Me too."

"I'll come back tomorrow as soon as I'm off work." You said, pulling your arms through the sleeves of your jacket.

Aki shook his head, "That's not necessary."

"You don't want me to?"

Of course he wanted you to. If he was truly listening to his heart, he would have begged for you to stay and never fucking leave his side again. But he has to listen to his head.

"No, just… Don't worry about me, okay? I'll call you when I get out, we can talk more when I'm feeling better."

"Alright. Do you need anything before I go?"

"I could use a cigarette, but I doubt they'll let me smoke in here, so..." Aki pondered with a shrug of his shoulders, but without a care for what he just said, you rooted around in your jacket pocket, tossing a lighter and then a half-full pack of cigarettes at him. He saw them out of the corner of his eye and spun to catch them with ease.

You were about to leave the room, but as you grabbed the door handle, you stopped to say one more comment, "Hey, make sure you get some rest, alright?"

"Didn't I tell you not to worry about me?"

In response, you only chuckled.

Aki spoke between the cigarette already placed between his teeth, "Be safe."

"I will, see you later. Call me."

Aki waved, and after catching one last glimpse of him, you left and closed the door behind you.

—

Aki never called you.

After almost a week of not hearing from him, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You went to the hospital first, only to find his room empty upon opening the door. You flagged down a nurse, who informed you he left a few days ago. Against the wishes of his doctor, might they add. Yeah, sounds just like him.

So next, you tried to call his phone, but of course, it rang infinitely without an answer. When that plan failed, you didn't waste any time trying to leave voicemails. You got in your car and drove right to his apartment.

Considering what the nurse told you, it wasn't hard to believe he was ignoring you because he was trying to get some rest, but considering what you knew about Aki, the real reason was probably because he didn't want you to fuss over him. It was either that or he was too embarrassed to talk to you.

You parked in front of his apartment and then made your way to the door. The sun hung low in the sky, casting orange ribbons of light upon everything it touched. A sharp chill was settled in the air, leaving goosebumps on your arms in its wake. You raised your knuckle and knocked.

No answer.

You rung the doorbell, hearing the muffled chime resound from inside.

No answer, again.

The lights weren't on, but his car was parked in the lot, so he definitely was here. Was he okay? Something didn't happen to him, did it? You're starting to get a little nervous.

You were about to try knocking at the door again, but to your surprise, it unlocked with a click. You hurriedly moved your hand away, and when it swung open, you couldn't hold back a sigh in relief.

Aki leant on the doorframe, his hair down and an utter mess. He was wearing comfortable clothing, what you assumed to be his pajamas, and a weary look was present in his eyes. Maybe he actually was resting after all. He eyed you up and down before asking in a flat tone, "What are you doing here? Do you need something?"

You scoffed, "You said you would call me and you didn't, idiot."

"Oh, sorry." Aki replied, his attitude standoffish, and he averted his eyes, looking down at the floor.

Could he be any less subtle about this? At least you were here now, so he couldn't avoid you for any longer.

"Can you let me in? It's cold out here." You said, crossing your arms.

Aki appeared to be unsure, but regardless, he opened the door further and moved aside, allowing you to walk in before he closed it behind you. The second you entered, a heavy warmth settled over your body like a cocoon. The familiar smell of his apartment and the distinct musk of his cigarettes filled your lungs. The scent was comforting, albeit a little suffocating, but it smelled exactly like him, and that's what you loved about it. His living room was lit solely by the rays of light shining through the balcony's sliding glass door.

He wobbled past you, and before he sunk down on the couch, you noticed how he was clutching his side. "There's beer in the fridge if you want one," He said, grabbing a can from the coffee table in front of him.

You rolled your eyes, but decided to take him up on that offer, walking over to the kitchen. "Isn't it bad to drink while you're recovering?"

Aki brought the can to his lips, head tilted back as he took a drink. After a swallow, he simply stated, "It helps take the edge off."

After rummaging around in the fridge, you grabbed a beer can of your own, cracking it open with a satisfying hiss. The bitter taste of alcohol pricked at your throat when you took a sip, and as you made your way to the living room, you looked at Aki again. He didn't look to be in much pain, but he was still holding his stomach like something was sore there. His expression was plagued by exhaustion and his hair was in total disarray. He probably hadn't even brushed it since he got home. Most curiously, his arm was wrapped in bandages stained a dark red from dried blood.

"Aki, are you alright?" You asked, plopping next to him, the couch sinking under your weight.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You snapped back after his curt response, pointing to his arm as he brought the beer can to his mouth again, "How'd you get that? Have you been changing your bandages at all?"

"I fed the Fox Devil flesh from my arm in exchange for using its power."

"You didn't answer my second question."

Aki looked away, unresponsive. There was your answer, you supposed. You took another swig of your beer before setting it on the table and pushing yourself up.

"Where are you going?" Aki asked, peering up at you.

"Bathroom."

This was far from the first time you'd hung out at Aki's place, so you knew exactly where the bathroom was. You dug through all the cabinets and drawers until you found everything you were looking for: a roll of bandages, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a washcloth, and his hairbrush.

When you returned, Aki immediately saw everything you were holding and a slight look of annoyance formed on his face. "You don't have to-"

"Come on, let me help you." You interrupted, setting everything down on the table besides the brush, which you held in your hand. "Face forward, I'm gonna brush your hair first."

Aki gave a few more flustered comments, but you ignored them. You stood behind him and grabbed his chin when he tried to twist around, tilting his head back until it was forwards. Realizing there was no sense in fighting you, Aki sighed rather dramatically and reluctantly kept still, allowing you to run the hair brush through his tangles.

You were gentle, as much as you possibly could be, anyways. Aki tried his hardest to keep still. It was impossible for you to tell from this angle, but if you could see his flushed face, you would know he was totally embarrassed. Not embarrassed enough to stop you though, of course. It's fine if you wanted to brush his hair, because he definitely wasn't enjoying this and his heart definitely wasn't pounding right now.

"Hey, Aki, I have something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Yeah, what is it?"

Oh, were you finally going to ask him about his last words? It's okay, he already prepared what he was going to say, so it'd be fine. It'd be awkward, but he'll get over it, you'll get over it, and everything will go back to normal.

"On our last mission, why did you step in front of me?"

Why did he… do what? For a second, Aki was taken aback. This isn't what he expected you to say, not at all, in fact. Was this really all you were wondering about?

At first, he isn't sure why. In the heat of the moment, the only thing in control was his reflexes, and when he protected you, he did so without a conscious thought. But the more he thought about it, the more the answer became obvious to him.

Aki is used to losing partners. It's nothing new, and even though he tells himself he's not going to get attached, he always does. When they die, reduced to nothing but ash, their souls burn on in his memory, haunting him until he drowns in salty tears and the thick smoke of another cigarette. They're replaced with hardly any time given to mourn, and the cycle repeats itself. The world discards them, but he never will.

The thing is, you're not just another partner to him. You're not just someone who can be easily replaced. You meant so much to him, more than you would ever really know. If you died, you'd be taking a piece of him with you, and the void left behind is one he would never be able to fill again. Not with anyone else. Not with the cigarettes or the alcohol or the rush from fighting devils. Nothing else would compare.

Aki is tired of this, and he realized he was a long time ago. He's sick of the world giving him something he thinks he can cherish, but no matter how tight he holds on, it always ends up slipping away, right between his grasp. He can't do this anymore. He can't sit back and be complacent, allowing the cycle to repeat itself over and over again until everything he finds beautiful is wilted, all right before his eyes. He can't sit back and let this shitty world win.

He doesn't care about all the pain he's in now. The temporary sting from this injury doesn't compare to how much it hurts to lose someone he cares about, a wound that aches everlasting. And he knows he could have died, he knows the feeling of death to an uncomfortable degree. But if keeping you safe means giving up his life for yours, he'd do it in a heartbeat, and he did.

Hah, finally, he understands her now. He finally gets all those letters he read that day, why she wanted him to quit so badly, why she kept him alive. This was what she must have been feeling back then, wasn't it? And when he protected you, must he have been feeling the same emotions she was?

"Aki, did you hear me?"

"I did it because I didn't want to see you hurt."

You stopped for a moment, before exhaling a long sigh. "I don't want to see you hurt either, you know. You could have died."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, just next time, let's both be more careful. I don't want you dying on me any time soon."

Aki didn't say anything back, half expecting you to ask him something else, but the discussion stagnated.

I don't want you dying on me any time soon. How could one little sentence carry so much weight? He'll try, God, he'll try. He'll do anything and everything in his power to stay with you for as long as he can.

By this point, you finished brushing out his hair, and it was soft to the touch when you ran your fingers through to make sure you didn't miss any knots. One thing's for sure, it looked a hell of a lot better than when you started.

"All done," You said while moving to stand in front of him, setting the brush down on the table, "I'm going to do your bandages now, take off your shirt."

"Huh?"

"I said I'm going to do your bandages now. I'll do the wound on your side first since that's gonna be the harder one."

"No, no," Aki shook his head, reaching for the bandages, "I'll do it."

You promptly put your hand on his and pushed it away. "No, you won't. Aki, please. Let me help you."

Although his mouth opened like he was about to argue, he ultimately kept it shut, the pleading tone in your voice convincing him. He sunk back on the couch and his gaze avoided yours as he reached down, grasping the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head, the faintest blush dusted on his cheeks when he tossed it aside.

It's the first time you've seen Aki without a shirt, and under it, he's a lot more fit than you expected him to be. His body is lean, but with defined muscle. Especially in his biceps, which you would assume is from wielding a sword. Bruises kissed his skin and scars decorated every last inch. You could imagine each one telling a different story: some of sorrow, some of triumph, but all a reminder that through everything, he lived. Just below his ribs, stained bandages were wrapped tightly.

"Uhm, how should I…" You stood in front of him, leaning down, attempting to figure out the best way to go about this. After feeling around, you located the end of the bandage, pulling on it and beginning to unwrap it from around his body. You could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest and hear the sound of his breathing: soft, and a little shaky. The angle was awkward and quickly caused an ache in your back, so to alleviate it, you rested your knee on his legs.

When the last of the bandage was unwrapped, you finally got a good look at his wound, and the only thing you could think was this would definitely leave his biggest scar yet. The cut was sealed by stitches and travelled up the length of his abdomen, dried blood coated around it.

You took the bottle of rubbing alcohol from the table, then the washcloth, pouring a small amount onto the surface. When you turned back to him, you decided the easiest way to continue would be to climb into his lap.

Aki couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks anymore, nor could he stifle the way his breath hitched when he felt your weight settle on top of him. You were so close, way too close, and when you shuffled against him, his entire face suddenly felt very, very hot. He could feel the warmth all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"Alright, this is probably going to hurt. Are you ready?"

"Uh, yeah."

God, why was he so embarrassed? Why couldn't he calm down? His heart was thrumming against his ribcage, pounding so hard he wouldn't be surprised if you could hear it through his chest like he could hear it in his eardrums. With you pressed up against his lap, he could admire the details on your face like he never could before. The curve of your nose, (Was it always so perfect?) the color of your eyes, (Were they always this beautiful?) each and every mark and… and he didn't know where the hell to put his hands. Maybe he should… No, it'd be best if he just-

"Ow! Holy fucking shit that hurts, why didn't you warn me?!"

"I did, you dumbass."

The second you pressed the rag to his cut, a sharp sting shot through him and he flinched back instinctively. When you pressed it to him again, he tensed up and subsequently jerked away.

"Aki, you need to hold still."

"Sorry."

You gave him a second to compose himself before trying once more. Aki winced and swore under his breath, but he was able to keep still this time. You cleaned around his wound carefully, taking the washcloth away to give him a break whenever he squirmed or made it obvious he was in pain. Searching for something to hold onto, he grabbed your shoulder, squeezing tight to ground himself.

"You shouldn't have left the hospital so early, this looks horrible." You ascertain.

"I- shit, ow… I need to get back to work, I've-" He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of air, "I've lost enough time already."

The pain stung like all hell, but there was something about being looked after by you that felt nice, almost calming, in a way. There was also something about how you fit in his lap that felt so, so right. Aki could hardly get over that feeling, and when he was squirming too much so you gently held his waist to keep him still, your soft touch against his bare skin was tender and heavenly and perfect. Any more of this, and his heart might pop like a balloon.

"I'm almost done," You said softly, your tone comforting, "You're doing good, hang in there for me."

Aki gave a quick nod and you continued. You cleaned the entire length of the wound, and once you thought your work was sufficient, the next thing you grabbed from the table was the fresh roll of bandages. You began wrapping them around him, winding them up the width of his body once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. When you were finished, you asked him, "Are you okay?"

Aki merely nodded again.

"Are the bandages too tight?"

He shook his head. You secured the bandage with a knot, and when you started to slide off of him, Aki suddenly stopped you by grabbing your arm.

He can't let this moment end. Not right now. Not when he needs it. Not when he's needed you for so long.

"Wait," He said nervously, swallowing, "Can we… Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?"

You smiled, "Of course."

You slid back into his lap, carefully straddling him, and Aki couldn't help but feel the way your body connected to his was like puzzle pieces finally fitting together. He's not sure if he planned to or if it was purely by natural reflex, but he was a slight bit bolder this time when he allowed his hands to find your waist and hold it faintly through the fabric of your clothes.

"Are you alright?" You asked him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just really missed you."

To be honest, that didn't even begin to scratch the surface. Aki missed you so goddamn much. He longed for your touch, for your mere presence alone. To have you in his lap now was a blessing, and what he didn't tell you was on that day, when he woke up at the hospital and you wrapped your arms around him, the feeling which leapt through his heart was the most he's felt in a long, long time.

Fuck, he was so stupid. Why did he ever try to push you away? Why did he think that was a good idea?

"I missed you too." You replied.

"I'm sorry, I should have called you."

"Aki," You said with a half-hearted laugh, "It's okay."

"No," Aki shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing, "It's not, and I'm sorry. It's not okay for me to get hurt so badly I'm out for three days, or for me to ignore you, and I won't let it happen again. I promise."

His expression seemed to soften, and the next thing to leave his mouth was spoken a little quieter, a little softer, and much, much warmer.

"I don't ever want to be apart from you, not for that long. You matter too much to me."

The way he said it so genuinely took you by surprise and ignited a little feeling inside your heart. It was a few seconds before you responded, "I don't want to be apart from you either."

The room grew silent, and in between the two of you, only deep breaths and lingering gazes behind heavy blinks of eyelashes were exchanged. The sun is nearly set by now, the day nearly spent. Twilight casts the faintest lush glow of orange on half of Aki's face, and the other is obscured by the dark shadow the light creates. The way it makes him look is practically ethereal, and your hand starts to drag up, up, until you're caressing his jawline, cupping his cheek, feeling warmth radiate from his skin when he leans into your touch.

Aki's not really sure what it was, or how it happened, but something fell into place right then. A want turned into a need turned into a desire, and Aki knew, he knew he was done for, but quite frankly, he didn't care.

He shouldn't be doing this, should he? His fingers shouldn't be trailing under your shirt. They shouldn't be shaking, climbing slowly upwards until he can study your waist, the dip of your sides, the outline of your ribs. He shouldn't be losing himself to you, nor should he be allowing you to touch him so earnestly, so intimately.

With one hand, you toy with the piercings on his earlobes, and the other you run up the back of his neck, tangling it in his hair until he can feel tingles throughout his scalp. Meanwhile, he touches you with the delicacy of feather-light fingertips against your skin, like he was scared you might shatter if he wasn't careful, and the nervousness of unsure movements and trembling hands. And when he does so, he shouldn't be wanting more. If he shouldn't be doing this, why did it feel so good, and so right?

All he knew anymore was right now he wanted, no, he needed you, more of you. More of your touch, more of everything you'd be willing to give him, and then some. He needed you to take him somewhere far away from this world, because when you touch him like this, he doesn't feel empty anymore. He doesn't want it to end, even if he should, even if it would be the smarter choice. Truth is, he's been cold inside ever since that snowy day, and this is the most warmth in his soul he thinks he's felt since then.

You're his partner, nothing more. But in this space away from reality, inhabited by just the two of you, the world of devils doesn't really fucking matter.

Maybe it's because he was a little tipsy, or maybe it's just because he was high on you, but his mind was a dream-filled haze, and with a budding, lovesick ache in his chest, Aki felt words blossom until they were falling from his mouth like petals, words he thought he would never say again.

"I love you."

It came so naturally, as did his affectionate hold on your chin between his thumb and finger, as did the way you whispered I love you too in return without missing a beat.

Do you? It felt like a dream, but if it was, this was one Aki definitely didn't want to wake up from.

I do, always have. It wasn't a dream, it was real. You loved him. You said you loved him, and he didn't even know how to process it. He didn't know where to begin. But with you right here, he didn't think, he didn't complicate it, he just believed you. He let his heart take control and allowed everything to unfold.

His eyes dropped to your lips, and then gravity started to pull him in closer, closer, listlessly, his hand seeming to guide you forwards in the same way. His voice was quiet when he asked, Can I kiss you? and your response only came in the form of eyes fluttering closed and your mouth pressed against his.

His lips were soft, hesitant, woven with sparks, filled with a longing he didn't even know he had, and to him, yours felt like a dizzying sense of relief. All of his longing, all of his infatuation. All of the times he was so close to you but stopped himself from doing anything more. All of the indirect kisses shared through sticks of cigarettes. All of it led up to this. And yet, the moment was cut short when he pulled away almost as quickly as he leaned in.

When you met his gaze, you smiled, and told him, "You can kiss me like you really mean it, you know."

"Like… Like how?"

"Like this."

Your lips sought his again, but this time they pressed harder, for longer. In between struggles for breath, your mouths parted. Suddenly, your hands were becoming lost in his hair and he was kissing you much deeper than he ever could have expected or imagined. He tasted vaguely like cigarettes and beer, the ones you both always smoke, the kind you both always drink. Comfortingly familiar.

It had been forever since he'd kissed someone, and never since he'd been kissed like this, so everything was clumsy and messy. The dance became one you were teaching him how to do, and eventually, he started to get the hang of it. He was hesitant at first, but when he pulled you closer by your waist and you rocked your hips hard against where he was stiff beneath you, all nervousness and any attempt to control himself went out the window.

Sucking on your tongue has him feeling lightheaded, and with soft sighs and gasps echoed between each other, it was then that Aki realized: you didn't just taste like his cigarettes, you felt like them too. Your lips on his felt like the way nicotine soothes your lungs, working its way into your blood until you're left hopelessly addicted.

When you pulled apart, he was breathing heavily, eyes filled with lust and an almost divine sense of adoration. Your hand pressed to his chest, the steady beat of his heart thrumming beneath, and you pushed him until he settled backwards. Tender kisses were blessed to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, where he tilted his head up to give you better access, and then you kissed the Adam's apple in his throat, where he let out the sweetest whine.

Your lips traced downwards, and where they did, they wrote words Aki wished he could etch forever into his skin. There was a kiss on his collarbone, then one on his chest, over a faded scar. Another, on top of a bruise, and although still sore, the pain was drowned out by tingles of pleasure.

If it's possible for heaven to exist on Earth, Aki thinks this might be what it's like.

Somewhere down the line, his hand met yours. When exactly? He doesn't know, but what he does know is your fingers fit into the crooks of his too perfectly to be a coincidence. He knows it's ridiculous, but it has him thinking perhaps, his hands weren't meant to summon devils or hold the hilt of a blade. They were meant for something more like this.

Somewhere down the line more, he's asking, Can I touch you? and the hand that's free is moving on its own the second he sees you nod, his palm exploring wherever it oh so desperately wants to. It slips under your bra, caressing and squeezing your breasts, rolling the nipple between delicate fingers. Callouses morph his touch into a mix of rough and gentle, providing the slightest bitter reminder.

A moment of clarity finally befalls him when he notices your fingers playing with the drawstrings of his pants. A moment which whispers to him, Hey, this is your last chance to get a grip, are you going to take it? He chooses to pretend he didn't hear.

Actually, he chooses to go directly against the little voice in his head when he grabs your hand, his fingertips brushing against your knuckles as he starts to guide it down, down, right to where he's craving it to be. There's a gnawing hunger for more that festers in his heart, in his stomach, and in between his legs and… For fuck's sake, when did he get so hard? He's so turned on it hurts… Was all of this just from a little kissing?

He's hopeless. Way more hopeless than he thought, way more needy than he thought. And who can blame him? No-one has ever touched him like this or loved him so strongly, not once in his life. Certainly you can't blame him for being a little desperate.

So if he wants you to touch him, you will. If he wants you to make him feel good, you'll make him feel even better, all because he deserves it. He works so goddamn hard, he's been through so much. He deserves to be happy, he deserves to be pleasured, he deserves to be loved. He deserves to have a break from how horrible the world can be and indulge in something much sweeter.

You know exactly what he needs, and so, you give it to him. Grant him a little taste to hold over his appetite. And God, when you do, Aki's mind is so far down the gutter there's truly no hope of saving him. (Not like there ever really was, anyway.)

"Fuck," Aki swears under his breath once you palm the shape of his dick through his pants, nearly stuttering. When he speaks again, his voice is barely uttering the words, but they roll off his mouth so effortlessly that he hardly knows what he's saying anymore. "Right there baby, just like that, holy shit…"

It doesn't take long before his legs are starting to squirm and his head is tossed back, needy moans punctuated by his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His hand flies to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle the noise, and his hips rut upwards in a desperate plea for friction. Even though you're only rubbing him through his sweatpants, the feeling that pumps through his veins, settles in his core: it's addictive. He can feel himself sitting thick and heavy against his thigh, leaking out all over it. Your touch feels so damn good he doesn't even notice when your hand slips down, past the hem, until it starts feeling a whole hell of a lot better.

One less layer of fabric makes all the difference. You can feel the outline of his cock more prominently, big and incredibly hard, the cotton of his boxers damp and slightly see-through over the tip. He needs something to hold onto, anything, so he grabs your waist with a firm, white-knuckled grip. The way you're squeezing him and rolling your palm is driving him fucking crazy and he knows he can't hold back anymore, not when it feels this amazing, not when he wants it this bad. All it takes is one more grind into your hand before he's on the edge, and when everything is tumbling over, he's riding it out and letting it happen.

Cries of your name are entangled with gasps for air as he finishes, cumming right in his boxers. His back arches into you, his entire body tensing before it abruptly goes limp. His moans are so perfect, and the way he whimpers even after his release is absolutely adorable.

You give him a moment to catch his breath and recollect himself, his chest rising and falling with force. You reach up, brushing his messy hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears. Then, you lean forward, lips connecting with the nape of his neck. The skin gives between your teeth, and he sighs when you softly suck a deep mark, one you know will last 'til morning.

He must be so pent up. That's the only explanation behind him cumming before he's barely been touched, before you've barely even done anything. He must have never been touched by anyone like this. Hell, he probably didn't even touch himself like this. There must be so much built up tension, so much that he's starved for any kind of touch, so much that he'd get hard from just a kiss, from just you sitting in his lap.

You want to touch him more, give him more, give him everything until he's whole again. You can help him relieve some of that tension, couldn't you?

You pull back, admiring the bloom of dark purple on his neck, before kissing his jaw. Then, you trail up, where you nibble at the metal piercing on his earlobe, kiss the shell of his ear, and whisper, "Can you keep going?"

Aki's mind is in a complete daze when he answers, his voice light, like he's high, "Yeah…"

Your thumb hooks around the waistband of his pants and the briefs he's made a mess out of, and he raises his hips to help you pull both garments down just as far as necessary. You know his dick wants to come free so bad, and when it does, it springs up and taps against his abdomen.

Aki can hear you spit into your hand, hear his heart pounding in his ears like a drum. He knows what you're going to do, but he's still nervous. The anticipation might kill him, but he's too embarrassed to look, so when your hand suddenly wraps around him, the surprise causes him to jolt and his breath to catch in his throat.

His pretty cock has a certain weight to it, a certain curve and thickness which makes your fist fit perfectly around it. Paying careful attention to the high he just came down from, you stroke him slowly, gently, almost in a lazy manner, sliding off of his lap and making yourself comfortable beside him so you're able to get a more desirable grip. The mixture of his slick and your spit is enough to make your hand glide up and down easily, echoing a soft, wet sound. Your shoulder is pressed to his, and here, you're able to utter the quietest of words into his ear.

"Does it feel good?"

Aki nods. "Mhmm…"

"How good? Tell me."

"Really good, really really good… Ah, fuck-" Aki momentarily cuts himself off when your palm swipes against the sensitive tip, his hips rocking upwards desperately, "Please, don't stop."

It feels amazing. Being touched by someone else like this, and that someone being the one he's so desperately in love with. It's like nothing he's ever felt before. It's making his head spin, like he can see stars. He's already fully hard again, and he can feel himself fucking throbbing.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes…" Aki groans between sucks of air through his teeth. He's thrusting into your tight grip shamelessly now, his dick sliding in and out of the hole you've made with your fingers, to the point where you don't even have to move it anymore. He's whining, getting himself off on your hand and dribbling precum all over it, all by his own doing.

"What do you want?"

"I- You- I…" His attempts to get the words out mostly end in failure until you hear him swallow, and with a sigh, he admits, "I want to fuck you."

His comment is direct, way more inappropriate than you thought possible for him to say, and goes straight between your legs. It's hard to keep up your previous confidence now, but still, you tease, "Do you? How bad do you want it?"

"I want it so bad, I want more of you, I want to be inside you," Aki begs, each sentence punctuated by a breath as he fucks your hand, "I need you so goddamn much. You don't understand."

"Yeah? You wanna fuck me so badly, huh? I can tell."

"Yes, yes… Fuck- I'm gonna cum again, I'm gonna cum, oh my God-"

You jerk him off as his thrusts take on an unsteady rhythm and all of the sudden, Aki is falling apart in your grasp, moaning as he cums all over his chest and his stomach. It shoots out in ropes, and even when he thinks he's done, it still drips out of his cock, coating your hand and making your fingers sticky. And after everything, even once he's came, he's still half-way hard and thrusting slowly into your hand like he can't get enough.

You abruptly take your hand off of him and he whines in dismay. You lick your fingers first, then shift back on his lap and bend down, dragging your tongue from the bottom to the top. Over his stomach, over his bandages, up his abs and over his chest, all the way until he's squirming and you've licked up every last drop of his cum.

When you're finished, you comment, "I think I understand a little."

"Huh?" Aki replies, still catching his breath.

"I mean I understand when you said you need me."

"Do I make it that obvious?"

You smirk and plant a faint kiss on his lips, one that makes his heart jump a little in his chest, and then pull back to speak against them, "You always have."

Aki grabs your chin and goes to drag you in for another, but he's interrupted when you're blabbering, "Wait, wait, wait, wait," and pulling yourself away from him.

"What?"

You point to where his arm is wrapped in bandages, "I need to take care of that. I'll give you what you want after."

Aki can't even attempt to hide his disappointment before it's plastered all over his face. "Are you serious? Can't it wait?"

"You're not going to want to do it later, so no, it can't."

Ugh, he knows you're right. Once he gets started with you, he's not going to be able to stop, and either you're going to forget, or both of you are going to end up too exhausted. He knows he has to listen to you, but fuck if it isn't frustrating to have to control himself right now. Honestly, he's not sure if he can, and he definitely doesn't want to. He needs you and he's tired of waiting any longer, so he brazenly asks, "Can you do it while I'm inside? On my lap?"

You brush off the vulgarity of his comment as to not let it affect you, but it's hard to ignore the feeling between your legs when you start to imagine it. "I can't multitask like that. I want this as badly as you do, you know."

"I won't move. I just want to feel you."

He seems awfully sure of himself with that statement, so sure you almost believe him, so sure you're starting to consider it…

"Are you sure you can't wait?"

"I can't."

"You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?"

Aki watched your hands find the bottom of your shirt, where you grasped at the hem and pulled, wrestling it and your bra over your head before tossing both articles of clothing in a heap on the floor. You reached for your pants next, and he asked, "Is that a yes then?"

"It will be if you help me." Came your reply, your pants and underwear discarded at the same time, just as hastily.

"With what…?"

Your answer comes in the form of you straddling him, grabbing his hand, and bringing his fingers to your lips.

The sight that follows is one Aki simply cannot begin to tear his eyes away from. It's a bit befuddling at first: the way your mouth parts, and the way you lick a prudent stripe of saliva up the length of his middle and ring finger. When you take the digits further, pushing them down your throat, wet and hot tongue swirling around them, Aki's breath gets caught in his lungs, and it's there that he realizes what you're trying to do.

His gaze remains fixated to the display. You're sucking on his fingers, gagging, practically choking on them with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. They're getting all wet and messy with your spit and drool. It's such a fucking cocktease, and it's making him imagine things he shouldn't be imagining, but things he absolutely needs. He doesn't protest when you drag his fingers out, prop yourself up on your knees, and proceed to guide them right between your legs.

Aki has no idea what to do and he's totally transfixed by you, so he allows you to press them inside you, and then he follows your lead, shoving them in the rest of the way. You groan when his fingers fill you, leaning over and whispering quietly in his ear, reassuring him, "I'll show you what to do, it's okay."

You've taken his fingers all the way down to the knuckle. They're slender, trained, and fucking long, much longer than yours. They reach so deep inside, feel so amazing stretching you out.

Aki really, really wants to make you feel good, and that's the only thing running through his mind as he concentrates fully on you. On the feeling of your cunt around his fingers, on your moans, on your beautiful face. He needs to return the favor for you, and he desperately wants to see how you look when you're overwhelmed by pleasure, hear how you sound when you can't hold back, and he wants all of it to be because of him.

So he pays the closest attention. His fingers are slick from your saliva and spit, and he takes note of the way you're pressing them in and out. When you instruct him to curl them, he does so, and when you're screaming, There! Right there! he commits that spot, that movement of his fingers to memory.

He's a rather fast learner. You understood this when you kissed him, but with the way he's working you, massaging that perfect spot inside again and again, you've become aware of it even more so. Your instructions were no longer needed, and Aki took the liberty of fucking you with his fingers all on his own, scissoring them, until you're getting wetter and wetter around the digits. They're so damn good to you, so perfect, as perfect as the way they sit between the crooks of your own. Surely, his hands were made for you.

"So wet… It's squeezing so much." He mumbled quietly, half to himself, almost as if he's in awe.

Searching for more stimulation, you maneuvered a hand to your clit, rubbing tight, hasty circles. Aki noticed your movement and your noises starting to pick up, so he innocently asked, "Can you show me what you're doing?"

When you grab his hand and pull him out of you, Aki can feel the resistance, as if his fingers are being sucked back inside, and the thoughts that immediately manifest in his head would be enough to send him to hell ten times over. They come out covered in your slick, and you press them to your clit carefully.

It takes him a little bit longer until he's got a good grasp on this one. He keeps a slow, deliberate pace, mindful of how your body reacts and the manner you're guiding him. He doesn't always find the sweet spot at first, but each time he manages to, it feels like utter bliss. In due time, he begins to pull more noises from you, and when your focus starts to shift from teaching him to grinding against his fingers, searching for more of your own pleasure, he starts to take the initiative.

His fingers rub precise halos right where he can tell you're most sensitive. They're so disciplined, so dead on, and fuck, he's teasing you with them. Rubbing your clit determinedly before slowing down, stopping, edging, before starting up again, and repeating the process. His dick aches just by watching you and knowing he's making you come undone in this way, so he's trying to draw this out, make this last as long as possible.

"Is this good?" Aki asks curiously, sweetly.

"Yes! It feels amazing, oh my God, Aki-"

His name falling so deliciously from your lips makes his heart flutter before it goes right between his legs, making his cock throb. It's an abrupt, awkward realization when Aki notices he's been dribbling precum all over his abdomen, and probably all over his bandages too. Damn, between that and him finishing all over them, he's created more work for you, hasn't he?

Your knees feel like they're going to give out, so you rest your hands on Aki's shoulders for support. Your breath is coming out in ragged gasps as you feel your release already close, and when your head dips, Aki is using his free hand to hold you up, support you, lovingly muttering into your ear, "I wanna make you cum baby. Are you gonna cum all over my fingers?"

Everything in your core builds to a fever pitch, and all at once, you're wrapping your arms around him as you finish, clumsily grinding your hips against whatever part of his hand you can find, making it messy. His arm goes around your back, and he praises while you tremble, voice smooth and resolute, "Just like that baby, just like that. You're so beautiful when you cum."

Aki holds you while you come down, and you almost, almost forgot what your objective was going into all this, until you can feel the bandages on his arm rubbing against your bare back. You're a bit reluctant to move, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't eager for more, eager to get his cock inside you. His fingers were one thing, but they weren't enough, and almost as if he can read your mind, Aki whispers low and breathy into your ear, "Do you want my dick, sweetheart?"

He's asking you, but it's mostly his way of telling you, of prompting you. Telling you he wants you too, right now. And God you want it, need it, and you really don't need him to tell you twice.

Your hand finds his cock and he sighs as you pump the length a few times, getting it wet with his precum. It's so hard, thick, and throbbing steadily beneath your palm. With how needy he is, it's impossible to tell he already came two times before this.

You grasp the base and hover your hips over him, aligning it until the tip presses right against your entrance, prodding, teasing, so close but not quite and making your cunt pulse around nothing. He grabs your chin, tilting your head until he can look at you. His eyes meet yours, and behind the kind, cerulean gaze, is nothing but lust and desire.

"Do you want it?" He asks again, unflinching.

"Yes, I want it, yes…"

"Then take all of it."

Aki grabs your waist and pulls, guiding you to sink down on his cock. He's whimpering the moment he's inside of you, but he doesn't get greedy, continuing to drag you down awfully slow as he opts to enjoy the feeling of filling you up inch by inch.

Your cunt is squeezing him so much, sucking him in, taking all of him so well. He's not sure what to focus on: your beautiful face contorted in pleasure, eyelids fluttering closed, or the near addictive view of his dick becoming buried further and further inside. The sight is somehow enough to make him even harder, and he can't contain himself from rolling his hips upward in tandem with pulling you on him further.

It's you, it's him inside you, and holy shit, it's a feeling that's hardly set in yet. It doesn't hit him fully until he's stuffed in to the hilt, filling your stomach, with your weight settled on top of him. In this moment, it feels as though now, more than ever, the love he'd kept hidden for so long is finally tangible, finally real. He almost moves, nearly thrusts up, but he stutters and stops himself before he can once he sees you reaching behind you for the roll of bandages.

Fuck, he almost forgot.

"These first," You gesture to the bandage wrapped around his sides, speaking through ragged breaths, "You got them filthy."

"Sorry."

Despite the calm veneer you're trying your best to maintain, it's clear you're hurrying, unwrapping the bandages with haste and a hint of desperation. They're tossed to the side without a care when you're done. Aki's chest heaves with every shaky breath, so you instruct him to hold it, otherwise the bandages won't be secure. He complies, and when he does, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it pulse in his dick; it's near agonizing to keep still, and he hardly can.

When you're finished there, you reach for his arm next. Thankfully, this wound isn't anywhere near as bad as his other one, but the press of the rag against it is still enough to give him a sharp sting. Trying to avoid hurting him too much, you slow down a bit and focus, well, as much focus as the situation will allow.

Aki shifts beneath you, his hips fidgeting, fingers of his hand still held deft to your waist drumming against your skin just to keep himself busy. You can tell he's desperate for something more when you feel him twitch inside your stomach. Right now, he's so enthralled in you, in the feeling of being inside you, in being one with you. It's not long before the pain blends with pleasure and he doesn't even notice it anymore. He'll let you do whatever you want to his arm while he stares at you, drinking in the view like this'll be his last time seeing it.

You wrap the roll of bandages around his arm once. He's shuddering, and he can't resist rutting his hips up a bit, just barely so that you won't notice, but just enough to get an ounce of relief.

Twice. You've almost wrapped up the length of his arm. One more time, just one more time around and he'll get to fuck you.

Three times. He's so dizzy the room is spinning.

Four times. Fucking hell, he can't handle being teased like this, was now really the time to be this thorough?

Finally, finally, after the fifth time, you wrap the last of the bandage around his arm, tear it off and tie it. The second you've tossed the roll aside, his hands are grabbing fistfuls of your hair to pull your lips onto his. The kiss is frantic, sloppy, and he's using way too much tongue, but you don't have the time to correct him, nor does he have the patience to be corrected.

When Aki pulls away, he wipes the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand while thrusting into you, wasting no time at all to satisfy everything he'd been craving and fulfill the pleasure he was desperately waiting for. His grip on your waist guides you to bounce shallowly on his cock. He doesn't let you go up far before he's dragging you back down again, longing to stay deep inside you. Each press down has his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, and each thrust up has him moaning a pathetic string of swears, practically whining between every word.

"Fuck, fuck… You feel so- a-ah, fucking good baby, oh my God-"

He reaches so deep inside you, and when he guides your body by your waist, it's not only for him, but for your needs as well. He tilts, curved cock fucking into you at just the right angle to hit the perfect spot like he was made for it. His hips are moving with reckless abandon now, rolling upwards to an unsteady, ragged rhythm. You hold his face, caress his parted lips with your thumb, feel his hot breath ghosting against your skin, and suddenly, he stops. His hips halt as he firmly holds you still, and his voice is rough, a bit hoarse when he gasps out, "Can we change positions?"

You're a bit confused, but give an affirming nod. Aki pulls you off of him gently, slowly, savoring the feeling for as long as he can. When he's out, he uses his strength to easily twist you around until your back is on the couch and he's oriented above you, pulling his pants and boxers off the rest of the way and discarding them on the floor. Long, dark hair falls over his face in a mess, and he reaches up to comb a hand through, pushing it out of his vision so he can see all of you properly.

"Are you okay with this? Are you comfortable?" Aki asks at barely more than a whisper, his eyes locked onto yours as he grips your thighs and tenderly pushes them open. When the couch has no more space to provide and your leg is about to slip off, he grabs it and tosses it over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm okay," You answer, continuing to say, "Aki, don't push yourself. You're still injured, remember?"

"I won't, I'll go slow. Don't worry." He affirms with the faintest smile.

Aki's never been dirty-minded, but when he looks at you, allows his hands to take to your body, palms gliding up every curve of your form, his mind can't help but wander. You bring out something in him that he's never experienced before, something that makes him want to have his way with you. It's awfully strange to him, that feeling of wanting, of yearning. For so long, he's wanted a lot of things and never got them, but he's never desired something this selfish before. Every second of your time, every inch of your body, your everything, he wants all to himself. It feels good to want something, someone.

Aki's never been much of a daydreamer, either, but he can't say he hasn't imagined this from time to time. Meaningless sex has never appealed to him, but sex with someone you trust, with someone you truly love, deeply and passionately, is another story. Being as close and as vulnerable as possible to another person, giving them all of you, and they trust you enough to give themselves in return; it's something he's always desired to experience at least once in his life before he dies.

Yeah, maybe he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't have let it get this far from the start. But after a lifetime of never being selfish, never getting anything he wanted, right now, what he should or should not be doing doesn't matter. All that matters is you under him.

His hands settle on your hips, adjusting them until they're lined up with him, and then he leans down to murmur, "Are you ready?" And all that matters is the way you whisper back, "Yes, Aki, please, give it to me. I need you."

That's all it takes. That's all it takes before there's no going back, and Aki is fully drowning in this sensation of utter want and utter desperation. He's so easy to convince when it comes to you, always has been, and if you're telling him that you need him? Being needed by you is the best feeling in the world, and when you ask him like that, he couldn't deny you any longer even if he wanted to.

Aki presses inside you steadily, colliding his mouth with yours and stealing a quick kiss to silence his moans, his hair tickling your face as he does. You're still so wet, and he slides in easy, filling you up until his hips are flush with yours and your legs are wrapping around his back, crossed at the ankles. When he pulls away, he notices your arms splayed above your head. He grabs your hand, linking his fingers with yours, his grip tight, safe, and familiar. Warm, for the first time in a long time.

Aki doesn't move, not at first. He catches his breath, stares at you, at your face, admires everything he finds perfect about it. He can't stop himself from smiling now, and from the way you're smiling back, he's sure he must look like an idiot. So he lets his head fall, burying his face in the nape of your neck, softly mumbling, "God, you're so beautiful."

When he finally does start moving, every drag of his cock out is done at an exceptionally slow, meticulous pace, and once he presses back in, he puts his full weight behind the roll of his hips, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly get. His breath is hot and quivering when he moans into your skin.

"Oh my God," Aki whines, "You're so fucking good to me baby, feels so good… Can I go faster? Please?"

It wasn't much of a question, more like a heads-up, because before you're even telling him yes, Aki's moving faster. He bites at your neck as he becomes a bit rougher, a bit less contained, but steady; he's still holding back. He leaves impressions of his teeth and places wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck, sending a tingle up your spine. Finally, he gives you one last kiss before he draws himself away, his eyes immediately connecting with yours.

He's so damn pretty. Everything about him is pretty, from his staggered whimpers and moans in pleasure, to the lovely mark you've left on his neck, to his messy dark hair. It frames his face perfectly, and loose strands he has to keep pushing out of the way stick to his forehead from sweat. No-one gets to see him like this, with his hair down, since at work, he makes a habit of always keeping it up in his topknot. At work, he's a totally different person: the Division's strongest, coldest Devil Hunter. But here? He's just yours.

You're the only one. The only person who knows how pretty he is, and what he's really, truly like, under all that coldness. You know it's just a facade, and underneath everything, he's just someone who wants to be loved. All he desires is a little bit of intimacy, a little taste of something normal, just to feel something. Perhaps, you're the only one who understands, or perhaps, his warmth is something you draw out of him.

You bet you're definitely the only one who gets to see what his face looks like when he's all hot and bothered, though.

Aki's tempo is quickening more, the couch starting to creak under the pressure. He's breathing harder, and he chokes out as he fucks into you, through gasps of air, "I know you can be louder than that sweetheart… Don't hold back… Let me hear you."

If what he wants is to hear you, that's what he's going to get, and he's going to get all of it.

"Aki! Fuck!" You cry out, and you swear you hear him start to hold back his own whines so he can focus on yours. "It feels so good-"

"Yeah?" He teases, a little smirk present on his face. He still hasn't broken eye contact with you, fawning over you with blown pupils and a half-lidded gaze like he's so unbelievably head over heels. His voice is light, bordering on a whine when he speaks again, "Does my dick feel good?"

"Yes! It's s-so… fucking good." You're slurring, stumbling over your words, just focused on him, all of him.

"I bet it does baby, you're- fuck- taking it so well, you're so perfect."

Aki's grip remains tight on your hand as he drinks in every noise that comes out of your mouth. The sun is well past the point of dipping below the horizon, rays of light starting to fade away. The room is growing dark, growing dim, illuminated by only the faintest pink glow, but through it all, you can still see the outline of his face, his body. His defined nose, sharp jawline, dark hair, and broad shoulders. Earrings that shine when they catch the dying light at the perfect angle. If Aki had more patience, he'd get up and turn on a light, but he doesn't, so this will have to do.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room. The way Aki makes love to you is tender, relaxed, languid, like he has all the time in the world and he's going to savor it. He hardly cares about chasing his own release, just about enjoying it and making you feel good, but multiple times, he finds himself having to deliberately slow down to keep from finishing too quickly.

He can feel his body tensing up, but each time he gets too close to the edge, he shoves himself all the way in and stays there, lets himself calm down. His cock is throbbing, and holy shit, he wants to cum so bad. So bad that if he moves even the slightest inch right now, he's not going to be able to hold back, but he has to. He has to when you get impatient, rut your hips against his, and plead, Aki, move. Please.

He wants this moment to last, so he's going to hold on for as long as he possibly can, staving off his orgasm until he just can't take it anymore. He gives himself a couple more moments to come down from the euphoria before he's fucking you again, giving you everything you want.

And he's so damn vocal, so much more than you expected he would be. He doesn't attempt to hide how good he's feeling at all, moaning at every thrust, at every clamp of your pussy around him. He teases you, praises you, like he can't hold back from saying any and every thought that happens to enter his brain.

You want me to fuck you deeper? Harder?

Tell me. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.

Are you comfortable, baby? Does it hurt?

Ah, fuck, I'm so close already, I don't wanna cum until you do, baby.

Aki holds himself off, for longer, for further than he even thought possible. Even when he wants to cum so bad he's fucking delirious, he holds it, focusing on giving it to you just how you want, just how you beg him to. You're begging for him to go faster, Fuck me harder, I can take it. Fuck me like you really mean it. And you and him both know, whatever you ask him to do, he's going to do it. His side is starting to hurt, a little dull throb, but he ignores the pain when it's overwhelmed by waves of pleasure.

The sounds coming from the both of you are so obscene, so loud they can probably be heard a few apartments over. Aki is still holding your hand, never let go, and his grip is clammy and sweaty, but he still holds onto it tight. He can feel you beginning to tense around him, and when he does, he doesn't relent. He keeps up the same deliberate pace, just how you like it, hitting the perfect spot inside you every single time. The way your pussy squeezes around him is making his head spin, and when he once again finds himself right on the precipice, he knows it's over, he can't hold back anymore.

He can't stop, there's no way in hell he can. Not with your moans and screams and chants of his name in his ear. Not when your cunt is throbbing around his dick, so hungry for his cum, so demanding of all of him. He rolls his hips and fucks you deeply, hand reaching down and fumbling to find your clit, and when he does, he rubs clumsy, rough circles that quickly build up a tight coil of pleasure right in your core. His head dips and he presses even closer to your body. Your hand snakes into his hair, fingers threading through close to his scalp where you grab and yank back hard, drawing a needy whine from his lips.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna cum, please," Aki begs, voice high-pitched and desperate, helpless, "Please let me cum inside you, please, I need it so bad, I can't- I-"

He can hardly speak, and each thrust of his hips is sloppy and inconsistent. Between his dick fucking butterflies into your stomach and his fingers messily working your sensitive clit, the stimulation is growing too much to handle, and you can't deny him. You can't when he begs so sweetly like that, when he sounds like he needs it so goddamn bad. Before you know it, you're gripping his hair tighter and commanding, Cum for me, Aki, fill me up with all of it.

"Yeah? You want all of it? Then- Fuck!" He cuts himself off, ramming into you one more time before his hips are shaking, his whole body's shaking, actually, and he's stammering, "I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm cumming, oh my God, I love you, I love you…"

Aki's holding onto your hand so hard his grip might break it, and his voice in your ear is enough to throw you over the edge. You cry out, cunt pulsing hard around him. The steady throb around his dick feels like it's milking him, pleading for every last drop he's willing to give, everything he has left. And he's going to give it to you, pump you full of it and not even let a single drop go to waste. It's what you want, after all.

Everything, it's so overwhelming, it's too much, it's nothing like Aki has ever experienced in his life. He's shaking so hard and he can't stop it, and his vision has gone so blurry he can't see a thing, all he can see is black. He's gasping, whining, and he can hardly breathe, just feebly choking on air as he fills you with so much of him. When he's finally done, the feeling that overtakes him is utterly euphoric.

It's like he's floating. His body goes limp, and his heart is pounding, but he's calm. Incredibly calm, like finally letting go, vulnerable, allowing the waters to take you wherever they so choose. He's tired, so tired, but not a heavy, exhausted kind of tired. The sleepy kind of tired that holds you tight and weighs you down, that promises to take care of you and if anything, never let you go. It envelops him until he's slipping away, and it's kind of like, kind of like…

It's kind of like dying, isn't it?

To die by your hands is a pretty good way to die.

Aki's body pins you to the couch as you both come down from your high. The both of you are covered in sweat and smell undeniably like sex. He's so close, so warm, to the point where you start to feel hot, but his weight pressed on top of you feels nice. It's comforting, feels safe and puts your mind at ease.

For a while, the two of you lay there, relaxing and letting yourselves sober up. His heartbeat is slow; you can feel it through his chest pressed up against yours, and eventually, the rhythm of your heart begins to match his. He's still inside, still holding your hand, but through a much looser grip. His head is nestled in the space next to yours and you can feel his steady breaths fan out on your neck, tickling the shell of your ear.

He's quiet, really quiet. His breathing is so deep… Is he falling asleep?

"Aki?"

No response. None.

"Aki. Hey." You squeeze his hand and shift a little bit under him, wiggling like you're attempting to push him off of you, although there's clearly no real effort put behind it.

Nope, nothing. He doesn't move an inch. He's got to be out cold.

"Come on," You drag your hand away from his to shake him a little by his shoulders, and it seems like your grip disappearing was enough to wake him up a little. He shifts, just the tiniest amount, and you continue, "Aki, I know you can hear me."

He doesn't move, again. Just grumbles in your ear.

You sigh in defeat. Fine, he can lay on you for a little bit longer. His injury might be hurting him. He did work himself really hard, after all. If he's exhausted, he can rest, he deserves to get some. You run your fingers through his hair, stroking the back of his head, listening to the constant inhale and exhale of his breath.

The moment is oddly peaceful, considering what just transpired. The room is covered in a thick darkness now. It's deathly still and incredibly silent, save for the distant whistle of a train passing by somewhere in the city, but it feels like you and him are the only ones to exist in this world.

Aki is just barely awake, teetering on the edge of falling asleep for real. His weight on top of you and the rhythm of his breathing might be enough to lull you to sleep as well, that is, until he starts mumbling in your ear.

"Love you. So much." His voice is groggy and tired, to the point where it's difficult to tell what he's even saying. You can make it out close enough, thankfully.

"I love you too."

"Thank you."

You laugh half-heartedly, "What are you thanking me for?"

"Everything." He replies simply, and finally, he decides he's ready to get up, pushing himself off of you with a large exhale of breath, his muscles feeling weary and spent.

He meets your gaze and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." You nod.

Aki's eyes briefly rake up and down your body before he slowly pulls out, flopping back hard against the couch with an annoyed groan.

"My side fucking hurts."

"I wonder why," You push yourself up on your elbows, staring at him with a knowing look, "I told you not to push yourself too far."

"You were the one babbling about, 'Go faster' this and, 'Go harder' that. I think it's your fault."

"No way… Aki."

"Yeah?"

"You got any smokes?"

Aki laughed. A real, genuine laugh. Now there's something he never does.

"Let's get dressed. Then, I'll give you one."

Aki turns on a light resting on top of a table beside the couch. He outright refuses to allow you to put on your dirty clothes, stopping you when you went to reach for them on the floor. From his room, he brings you some of his clothes, and some for himself as well. He takes care of you first, kissing your forehead as he pulls a shirt over you, gently lifting you by your hips to pull on a pair of his boxers and pajama pants. His clothes fit baggy on you and they're covered in the smell of him.

He dresses himself next, hastily, before rummaging around his apartment to find where he left his box of cigarettes. Actually, they're your box of cigarettes that you leant him at the hospital. He hasn't had the opportunity to go out and buy some more because he's been resting at home, so he's been trying extra hard to make this box last.

How many were left again? There's probably a couple. He opens the box to check and…

One. Just one. Did he really smoke that many? They go by so fast.

"There's just one in here," He muses, walking over to where you're laid back on the couch and showing you the near-empty box.

"I guess we're sharing again." You reply with a smile.

"Guess so."

It's not long before you accompany Aki to the balcony. The night air is cold, and there's the slightest hint of a chilly breeze passing through. Aki holds the cigarette between his teeth and shields the lighter from the wind with his palm, striking it once, twice, three times before it comes to life in a flurry of sparks. You stand close, holding his arm, leaning on him.

Aki can't help but feel… strangely euphoric. Now that he's coming to his senses, thinking more clearly about everything, he knows he probably, definitely shouldn't have done this. He's letting himself grow closer to you. What's going to happen when you die? When he dies? When one of you is killed in the line of work, it's not going to be fair to the other. It's not fair to fall in love with someone when you always tow the line between living and dying.

It's not fair. It's not fair, the world isn't fair. In another life, maybe Aki would have a better chance with you. Maybe you two could be a regular couple, be normal for a change. But he can't change the past, can he? All that waits for him is the future.

He's made his choice. He made his choice to be selfish, and now he's got to live with it, but fuck if he isn't going to enjoy it for as long as he possibly can. A man like him doesn't kick the bucket so easily. He's through with complicating things, done hiding anything. He's going to live for as long as possible, and it's going to be with you, whether the damn universe likes it or not.

And if you die, it's going to kill him. It's going to be the death of him, and he knows it.

But the world is better with a little self-indulgence, even if it kills you, right?

"Will you stay the night tonight?" Aki asks, ending the silence, taking a long drag out of the cigarette before exhaling and watching the smoke rise into the starry night sky. The nicotine immediately soothes his lungs and aching body, and with you pressed close to him, all he can feel is total relaxation through his veins.

"Yeah, I can."

"Good. Because I don't want you to leave."

"I won't leave any time soon, then."

A little smirk forms on Aki's lips, and as he goes to take another hit of the cigarette, you push against him, pouting. "You were supposed to share."

"I will. Hang on a sec."

Aki takes another long hit, breathing in the smoke, holding it in his lungs. He turns to you then, and he grabs your chin firm, tilting it up to where he leans over you. In an instant, his lips press against yours in an open-mouthed kiss and your eyes flutter shut in response.

Aki blows the cigarette smoke into your mouth slow and steady, and when he pulls away, it's only slightly, only enough to let stray wisps rise in the space between the two of your mouths. He already breathed in all the nicotine, so there's none left for you, but the smoke still pricks at your throat, still gives you that familiar feeling. Maybe you should complain and ask him to give you a proper hit, but his kiss is just as addicting as any cigarette, so honestly, you don't really care.

"How was that?" Aki asks quietly, pulling away to give you a chance to exhale.

"Another?"

Aki smiles, "Of course."

He's so easy to convince when it comes to you.

—

Aki falls asleep by your side.

He drifts off with his large frame pressed against your back, his dark hair fanned out over the pillow. His whole bed smells like him, and his blanket and sheets are soft. As his arm is splayed over your body, his hand is connected to yours, holding gently where it lays delicately in front of your face. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, his gentle embrace clutching you closer to his body, the warmth radiating off of him, his breath hot against your neck.

For the first time in a long, long time, Aki doesn't dream of that stupid house, or of people dying right before his eyes. He dreams of something much more serene. His own slice of heaven, in this wretched hell.

He dreams of a future with you.

And even though he knows in the back of his mind that it's going to end tragically, he doesn't care. Even though he's aware he's going to die, and just how soon he's going to die, too, he ignores it. Forgets about it.

It's selfish. So, so selfish of him. But he's stopped looking at himself objectively. He'll only look to the future, with no turning back, and it doesn't matter how unattainable that future might be.

He's going to love you until the end.

And besides, there's no one else who's arms he'd rather die in than yours.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #aki hayakawa #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #aki x reader

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Note

Could you please share how your Neyo piece from the other day ends?

What a Change pt. 2

Summary: You've been trapped on this war torn planet for two days, you just have to wait for Neyo to come and get you.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x Reader

Word Count: 1332

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: There's no love confessions here, but the love is there and it's enough.

You wince as you duck behind the broken wall of what used to be a medical clinic. A medical clinic that Doctors Without Borders set up years ago, you recognize some of the equipment that lay, damaged and unused, around the exam room.

When Commander Neyo told you that the planet wasn’t peaceful anymore, you weren’t sure that you believed him. After all, you had been here before, and had helped vaccinate the population against the plague. You had friends here.

Or, you had once upon a time.

You duck your head a little more as blaster fire hits the wall over your head, and you wince as small pieces of drywall rain down on you.

Commander Neyo had been very clear. Find a safe place, and stay there until he can come and find you. You thought it would be an easy thing to agree to. But in almost two days, you haven’t found a single safe place to hide.

Honestly, you’re kind of glad that Neyo insisted on wearing your armor, because you’re been shot several times over the last couple of days. You glance down at your chest piece, which is now decorated with three different blaster burns.

You’re also glad that Doctors Without Borders splurges for some very high end armor.

You hear heavy footsteps, and silently you drop to the ground, and shimmy your way through an opening in the wall, leading you back outside…or what was outside, when there was an inside to compare it to.

You stay low, hidden behind some bushes, and you close your eyes and try to remember. Outside the city, there was a massive cave system that the people here used to inter their deceased. Right up until they learned that the reason there was so much illness on the planet was because of all of the death so close by.

The caves had been emptied and the bodies had been properly disposed of…and the caves should be empty.

Great. Fantastic.

All you have to do is cross a city filled with people who want to kill you, and find your way out of the city into a wilderness full of creatures that want to kill you, in the hopes that maybe you’ll find a cave system that used to be a death sentence to enter.

Lovely.

The back of your head settles against the building for a moment, maybe you can just stay here. Surely no one would look for you in a place where you’d already been, right?

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then start moving. You know that staying in place is a death sentence, especially here. You just hope that Commander Neyo actually comes for you.

No.

No, you can’t think like that. Neyo said he would come, so he will.

Finally, you finally make it outside of the city, and you find the cave system with ease. You’re not surprised to see that the system is empty, the place still carries an air of grief and sorrow.

You’re more surprised that the cave systems haven’t been completely sealed off.

You settle yourself only a little way in from the mouth of the cave, and you curl behind a large rock. Better safe than sorry in this case.

Slowly you drift off, your head resting on your vambraces. You sure do hope that no one finds you…or that the only person who does find you is Commander Neyo.

You start awake to the sound of heavy steps on dirt, and you keep yourself still through sheer stubbornness.

“Doc?” A familiar voice echoes through the cave, “It’s Neyo, I know you’re in here.”

You hesitate, and then poke your head out from behind the rock, “Commander?”

You see his helmet turn in your direction, and tension drains out of his shoulders. “When the General said that your tracking fob put you in the cave system we feared that you had been killed.”

You blink at him, “Tracking fob?”

He walks over to you and crouches so he’s closer to eye level with you, taking a moment to pull his helmet off and set it to the side so you’re able to see his face. Neyo reaches out to you, and then down into one of your many, many pouches, and he pulls a small plastoid disk out of the pocket, “Tracking fob.”

You stare at the disk for a moment, “You put a tracking device on me?” You don’t know if you should laugh or cry.

“Of course I did. I told you I was going to find you, how’d you think I was going to do that without a tracking device.” Neyo helps you to your feet, and his gaze drops to the blaster burns on your chest plate. “You were shot.”

You sniffle, unable to help yourself, “I was shot a lot.”

“I can tell, you’re not hurt are yo-” He stops talking mid-sentence when you fling your arms around him in a tight hug, “Uh…” Hesitantly he wraps his arms around you and lightly pets the back of your head.

“‘M sorry,” You mumble, but you don’t pull away from the hug, instead you raise onto your toes and press your nose against the spot on his neck that isn’t covered with armor, but is covered with the thin material of his blacks.

Neyo releases a slightly shaky breath, “You don’t have to apologize.” His arms tighten around you, “You’re not supposed to end up in these situations.”

“No one should end up in these kinds of situations.” You reply mournfully.

Slowly, hesitantly, Neyo brings a hand to rest on the back of your neck, trying to offer you what comfort he can.

“I’m sorry you had to come after me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the vaccines at the beginning. I’m-”

“Hey, hey. No. None of that.” Neyo pulls you away and presses his hand against your cheek, “You did the right thing. The Admiral should have passed the information down, not sat on it until it was too late. And I will always come after you. Always.” It sounds like a promise and you stare up at him with watery eyes.

“I’m sure you have better things-”

“Never. You are the most important.” Neyo interrupts. “You, who fight for me and my brothers even when we intimidate you. You who cares so very much about everything.”

You blink at him, surprised at his words.

“I am going to get you back to the ship. And then I’m going to punt the Admiral out the airlock.” Neyo bitches, “And then you’re going to cure the enhanced aging of me and my brothers.”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes, “I’m really close.”

“I know you are, it’s because you’re brilliant,” Neyo says as he brushes his thumb across your cheek, “And once you fix the enhanced aging, and the war is over, I’m going to marry the kriff out of you and give you three kids and a kriffing house with a garden and two tookas-”

You laugh softly, your anxiety and fear from the last two days fading now that you know that you’re safe again, “Seems like you have it all planned.”

“That is what I’m good at,” Neyo replies, he brushes his thumb against your cheek a little longer, and then he pulls away, “We have a camp set up about an hour walk from here. I will get you back to camp safely. But you’re going to have to stay at camp to keep you away from the Admiral.”

“You don’t trust him.”

“Not when you’re involved.” Neyo scoffs, he pulls his helmet back on, “Stay close, Doc.”

You smile at him, and stand on your toes to press a light kiss against his helmet, “Thank you, Commander.”

Later you’ll talk to him about feelings. But he’s already made it plain to you what his feelings are, you just have to do the same thing…somehow.

#star wars #tcw #commander neyo x reader #neyo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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bordysbae · 1 year

Note

hi can you write more about ethan x diabetes reader maybe from when they first met..

maybe Ethan sees the dexcom on the reader's arm and he's like: what is that?

or they're at some party and she's feeling sick so she goes outside to get some fresh air and that's where Ethan meets him, He asks her if she's okay and she mentions her low blood sugar.

“new people new things”

ethan edwards x diabetic!reader

as i said before, i think this is the end to the series, but thank you guys sm for both starting and tagging along on this little mini series with me!! <3

also: i added ella (readers roommate from the first story) in this again! and this was kinda the start of ella and luca (if you guys remember that!) which i thought was cute, since everything kinda got tied together in the end! we see how ethan and reader met, them getting back together, and parts of them dating! sorry we didn’t see the breakup, but just imagine it however you want!

—

the loud music blaring through the speaker, which is connected to god knows who’s phone, isn’t helping your ill feeling at all. the smell of alcohol and sweat makes you want to vomit, and your head is already spinning slightly, so the only thing you can think of is getting some fresh air on the back porch.

you step outside and close the door behind you, which only slightly muffles the sounds from inside. you take a deep breath and inhale the late-night, october air filling the city of ann arbor. as you’re lost in thought, trying to ignore the slightly ill feeling in your system, your attention is captured by the brunette boy who just entered the back porch.

“hey,” he says, leaning over the railing next to you, while swirling the drink in his red solo cup around.

“hi,” you say, turning your body to face him but still leaning against the deck railing.

“i’m ethan”

“i’m y/n. whatcha drinking?” you ask, making conversation to avoid those awkward ‘what’s your major?’ type questions.

“honestly, i couldn’t even tell you. my buddy got it for me, alcohol just tastes like alcohol to me,” he shrugs. “want a sip?” he says, holding out the cup to you.

“nah i’m good, thanks though. im supposed to be driving my friend home, but she’s hooking up with one of those hockey douches so i cant really leave, and i’m honestly not feeling great. sorry, that was a lot of information you didn’t need,” you ramble awkwardly to the stranger, unaware he’s very much a hockey player.

“well, that’s alright. i don’t think you’d want a sip since i’m one of those ‘hockey douches’ anyways,” the boy chuckles, making you gasp.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry! i had no idea!”

“no no it’s alright, i understand why you said that, hockey players definitely have a reputation. but i cant help but ask, you said you weren’t feeling alright? are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine. i’m just a diabetic and my blood sugar is slightly going low, but if i go back inside and inhale all that sweat and alcohol stench, i’ll probably drop dead before i can even reach the kitchen,” you joke, making ethan chuckle.

“wow! that’s so cool! i’ve never met anyone at this school who’s a diabetic,” ethan informs you.

“yep! you meet new people and see new things!” you smile, happy he isn’t one to judge you on being diabetic.

“oh wait here, take this! i snatched some from the bowl outside. hopefully that doesn’t make me a bad guy for stealing the kids halloween candy, but at least it’s going to a good cause,” he says reaching into his pocket and grabbing you a small packet of m&ms.

“oh my gosh, thank you so much! you’re a life saver, literally!” you exclaim before tossing a few into your mouth. you and ethan get to know each other for the next twenty minutes or so, until your friend drunkenly stumbles outside looking for you.

“y/n, hockey guys literally give the best head! you seriously need to stop being so against them- oh who’s this!” your friend questions, almost falling over ontop of you.

“uh hi, i’m ethan.” ethan awkwardly chuckles before shooting you an awkward look, making you both burst out laughing. “what are you guys laughing at?” ella drunkenly asks.

“nothing ella, it’s just that ethan plays hockey, but that’s not important. cmon let’s get you home,” you say.

“what does him playing hockey have to do with anything?” ella asks

“ella do you not remember what you just said?” you chuckle. “no?” she says, making both you and ethan laugh even harder. ethan helps you bring emma around the house and into your car.

once you finally get ella settled, he asks you a question, “could i maybe get your number?”

“of course!” you blush, thankful for the darkness so he can’t see your hot cheeks. “i’ll text you. get home safe y/n, okay?” he waves,

“thanks ethan, i’ll see you around.” you smile, before walking over to the other side of the car.

“he’s hot,” ella says, making you face palm. “i wonder if luca knows him,” ella mutters to herself.

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards x diabetic #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards blurb #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey

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anlian-aishang · 1 year

Note

hellooo! :) if it's alright I'd like to make a priority req.? I've been sick these past few weeks, sometimes on and off but today really hit the "pls help" button cuz I feel like I'd vomit if I'd eat or move etc etc but since those happen so often (cuz of my weird immune system) I feel like I'm just annoying my family and friends with constant whining. Is it alright if you write levi taking care of a sick reader but the reader keep overthinking that she's just being a bother because it happens relatively often but levi comforts her that he doesn't mind and all that? just lots of fluff and comfort :) sorry if it's too specific or doesn't count much of priority req :V ty for reading :) <3

Thank you for the request, dear! I hope you feel better soon, and I hope this helps a little <3

Tags: levi x reader, fluff, hurt-comfort, caretaking, food mention, allusions to nausea, gn!reader

Word count: 1400

Of course it had to be tonight.

Tonight - that your insomniac fell fast asleep. Tonight - that your illness began to take over, causing you to toss and turn in the bed you shared.

At first, you were surprised he was able to sleep through it given your constant rolls and hardly stifled whines, but it had been a long week, and you knew it too. Levi strove to keep work away from home, and though he had not turned into a complainer, you had been with him long enough to pick up on his changes, however subtle.

Walking through the front door, he would shoulder off his coat with an exasperated sigh. Bangs normally in perfect place had gone astray, giving you insight as to how many times he had run stressed fingers through his hair throughout the day. Wrinkles in his shirt, slumped over. Flicks of his wrists, overworked.

You too had been going through a rather difficult week. It seemed that if you got up too fast or even thought about it, your stomach would turn in rejection. Favorite foods lost their flavor. Comfortable positions were hard to find. At another time, you still would have hesitated to mention it to him, but given Levi’s rough week, you considered your lips sealed - selecting to suffer in silence instead.

In that way, you supposed you had brought it upon yourself. Symptoms had been building and building by the day, yet you chose to ignore them. Maybe if you had been proactive… Maybe if you just took it easy…

Maybe if you didn’t have this stupid condition…

Such regrets pooled in your chest and spilled over through frustrated tears. You gripped your stomach and brought your hand to your mouth, muffling your cries, but then holding you over, just until you could make it to the bathroom.

// // //

Neither of you knew how long it had been. Long enough for goosebumps to cover your skin. Long enough for Levi to shiver himself awake. Without each other’s presence, you both felt cold.

Only half-awake. Eyes closed, Levi flung a lazy arm to his left, searching for warmth in either blankets or you. Instead, he found neither - just an empty half of the mattress with a divot in your place. Room temperature told him: you had been gone for a while. Levi raised one brow and peeked open, confirming your absence. Just one blink before he swung his legs over the side and made haste to find you.

It did not take long. From the outline of the door, the hallway had been faintly illuminated. Pupils retracted sharply. Rubbing his eyes, Levi stumbled forward, feeling his way along the walls until finding the door handle and promptly clamping down.

There you were, nudged in the corner of the counter and the wall. Knees were tucked to your chest and under your shirt, shivering, trying to harbor as much warmth as you could. Too dizzy to get up, far too tired to go and grab a blanket. But he wasn’t.

Handmade quilt soon draped over your shoulders. Pillow nestled behind your head. Despite how delicately Levi had tried to lay them down, his good intentions were cause for your stir.

From a heavy squint, you managed a peek. Blurry but familiar was the figure above you. Bags under his eyes. Lips a slight frown. Despite all your efforts to keep him uninvolved, this was how it ended up.

At each other’s sights, Levi too felt a pang of regret. Embarrassed for each second he had slept since you got out of bed, each second he had left you to fend for yourself. Lament that it was you who had been cursed with this condition. Levi simmered, bargaining: if he could trade places, he would.

You offered a smile, one that tried to convince him you were just fine. “Hey.”

Right, as if. Levi crossed his arms, “Hey.”

Now adjusted to the light, Levi took a few moments to survey the scene. Finally understanding, he released a deep sigh and unfolded his arms, bringing his hands down to your shoulders instead.

Flexed fingers and sturdy rotations, hoping to massage an answer out of you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I…” you rolled your neck back, stiff from the awkward position you had settled on earlier, “I was… doing fine.”

Levi tilted his head, gaze nearly offended, And why shouldn’t I believe that? He chose to spare you the lecture. With the back of his hand, Levi brushed the hair from your eyes, touch and tone softened, “Can I get you something? Tea? Medicine?”

You shook your head, but at that mere motion, your abdomen grew upset again. “N-No,” you whimpered, weak fist clutched his sweatpants, “don’t leave me.”

He set his hand atop your head, petting you through your aches and pains. Enamored at your composure. Whiny, but not a whiner. Clingy, but not needy.

“Don’t worry. Don’t worry.” Levi insisted, “I won’t leave you.” Your heart fluttered at his tender demeanor. Kneeling to your level, he wiped the tear streaks from your cheeks, “I just want you to feel better.”

You tilted your gaze to him and exhaled, “Then don’t leave.”

“Does the sink count?” Levi rose slightly and slowly, just enough to reach the faucet. A tiny paper cup off the top of the stack. Then, the wooden drag of the drawer as he searched for a washcloth. He had to admit, he felt a tinge of pride at the sight, satisfied with the perfectly folded towels, readily available for a time like this.

Levi brought the paper cup to your lips and tilted slowly, “Can you sip this for me?” Steel gaze intent on your swallow, “Not too fast.”

“And here,” Levi offered. One hand pressed sound against your forehead, assessing your temperature. Shortly after, he set the damp washcloth in his hand’s place. “That feel better?”

Your long, relieved sigh was sufficient for words. Every time you tried to meet his eye contact, a bolt of headache. A hiss and a writhe that panicked even your Ackerman.

“Hey, come on.” Levi warned, “Just keep your eyes closed. I’ll be here.”

“Don’t leave me.” You mewled, “Don’t leave me, okay?”

Wouldn't think of it.

Levi tucked his arm tight between your nape and the pillow. He used his other arm to take hold of your hand. In addition to the blanket he had provided, a new bind, a wordless promise: he was incapable of leaving you.

// // //

In this small, windowless room, he had no idea the time. His back began to hurt, propped against the wall this long. His joints began to ache, frozen in this position - no end in sight.

Since joining you here, he had accumulated maybe a half hour of sleep, but he did not mind. While you considered his insomnia a reason not to disturb his sleep, he thought the opposite: if anyone had to stay up with you, he would have the easiest time of all.

Would have, if not for the tickle at the back of his throat.

Levi tried to remember the last time he had dusted here, but it must have been too long, because before the memory could come to him, the irritation did. He pinched his nose, ducked his head down, and sneezed, but the near-silent squeak and near-still shake was enough. When you yawned and rubbed your eyes, he cursed himself and dreaded the worst, but you had no complaints.

“Thank you, Levi…” You nudged your head between his neck and shoulder.

Still rubbing his nose, he sniffled, “For what?”

“Thank you for helping me.”

Levi’s brows lowered, his arm around your shoulders twitched with tightness, tightness that matched his tone. “You talk as though you can help it,” he mused, “like you’d choose to be on the bathroom floor at 3 AM.”

In nameless-hour haze, your response was delayed and not exactly coherent, “I tried, I tried as hard as I could not to…” a light sigh, a heavy yawn, “...get you involved or anything.”

Under his breath, he could not help but scoff. A low chuckle, one that made you shudder in his arms, “Right, cause it’s not like we live together or anything.”

Curling your grip around his forearm, you began to doze off again. “You know what I mean.”

But no, it was you who did not know what he meant. When he told you that he loved you, it was no set phrase, but held meaning within every word. He loved you on your best days and worst days. Just as much on the cold, hard bathroom floor as in a soft, warm bed.

Levi did not say it, for he knew how relentlessly you would have teased him, but he could not help but acknowledge it within himself:

A night like this was better than any one without you.

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #priority #request #fluff #oneshot #2023 #anlian writes #my writing #alias's

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obsessedtomone · 2 months

Text

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 12 - Bystander Effect▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤He fucking groans. “See, you could be so good for me, but you always choose to be a mean little bitch instead.”

You shoot him a contempt-filled glare and he just chuckles in return. Shigaraki slips his fingers out of your mouth and wipes your drool against the side of your reddened cheeks in order to further humiliate you.

“Monster,” you croak a whisper and try to look away, but he grabs your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze back on him.

“I thought we already established that?”◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Very Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Past Child Abuse, Bullying, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven • Twelve • Thirteen Updates every Monday!

Chapter 12 - Bystander Effect

So far, tonight has only been two things—boring and incredibly annoying.

Maybe it was the lack of alcohol in your system and you ought to fix that.

Abandoning the idea of going back to the bar entirely, you head out for the open drinks in the living room, the ones that were available for anyone to roofie. You find a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of coke, and you pour those motherfuckers into a big cup, praying you’ll have a well-deserved blackout in the morning.

You weren’t planning to get wasted before, but you don’t think you can stomach waiting for Taylor to go home without being highly intoxicated anymore and you weren’t about to cut their fun short over some toxic bitches from high school.

Some time passes, allowing the alcohol to properly loosen you up and making the music sound decent enough in the dark room for you to sway your hips next to other strangers. You get lost in the rhythm until you take out your phone, checking for updates from your friend and only seeing random strings of letters they spammed you with.

Taytay – dd ykn w ur th best [Sent 10:19 PM]

Taytay – I f knig lov u nbitch’;’2134 <5 [Sent 10:23 PM]

The stupid messages from your already wasted friend brought warmth to your chest, making you genuinely smile—until someone accidentally bumps into you and knocks you away from the dancing mass, where you caught a glimpse of a strangely familiar looking group, hanging out on the couch not too far away from where you stood.

Feeling dizzy, you try squinting to see better through the flickering party lights, when you finally realize that the person you’re looking at was—Shigaraki?

You swallow. Why was he here?

Next to Shigaraki who was manspreading on the couch, sat Dabi, the Dabi–that you’re semi-sure appeared only because of you manifesting his existence earlier. You’re now ninety percent convinced that he’s the one Mina’s purple haired arm candy downloaded his style and personality from.

But they weren’t alone, no.

Dabi was getting the equivalent of a lap dance from some slutty girl, who in the process of basically riding him, was sinking her hand into Shigaraki’s shoulder, fingers gripping him tightly and him just staring at her grip in a daze. She looked exactly like the type of girl you’d speculated he’d be into, back when you only thought of him as a creep.

Something indescribable courses through your blood, clawing at your heart and twisting in your chest, making you shift your gaze from him to the rest of his group—three more dudes and a blonde chick that looked to be too young to be here—passing blunts and alcohol between the six of them.

All of them were enjoying themselves drinking, smoking, getting high and laughing.

He was laughing.

You’re positive you’ve never seen Shigaraki laugh so freely before, the thought nagging at you for some reason.

He’d seem to snap out of something, grabbing the girl’s hand that was casually sliding closer to his chest, forcefully pulling her into him and whispering something into the girl’s ear with a creepy smile, her almost losing balance off Dabi’s lap if not for the fuckboy’s hands on her hips holding her closer and him angrily shouting something at Shigaraki in return.

It wasn’t a surprise for you to figure out you weren’t special to him, but seeing it in front of your eyes ended up burning like acid. It bothered you enough to look away, emptying the remaining contents of your plastic cup, crumpling it in the process and missing the look of horror on her gorgeous fucking face as you chuck the offending piece of garbage at the floor.

Why would he lie to you? Why go through the trouble of confessing to you, of attempting to fix things with you?

And why the fuck do you care who he fucking toys with?! Shouldn’t you be happy?!

You snap out of your bubbling betrayal when you notice someone from the group waving excitedly in your direction. He shouts something at his friends, handing his smoke and his drink to the blonde chick while you squint to understand what’s going on. Six pairs of eyes start scanning the room until their gaze finally lands in your direction.

Shigaraki’s eyes visibly widen the second he sees you and you look around yourself feeling flustered, counting on a miracle that it wasn’t you they were all fucking looking at.

When you see your arcade friend quickly rushing to get to you, swerving through the mass of bodies, you quickly realize how morbidly wrong you are.

Fuck.

You don’t think you’re ready for another bout of trouble tonight, so you try getting away before your new friend reaches you, hoping—praying, to melt with the crowd and lose them, to pretend like there weren’t two pairs of eyes, angry crimson and amused cerulean, that stared holes through your body.

Unfortunately, your hopes of an escape are cut extremely short when a strong buff arm grabs you by your shoulder, effectively spinning you around and pulling you into a sweaty bear hug.

“Sorry, ‘m tipsy, but I can’t believe I got to see you here!” Iguchi shouts happily through the music and closely into your ear, making you nod your drunk head and trying to make sense of what was happening to you.

You couldn’t return a proper greeting to him, because you spot Shigaraki swiftly cutting through half the room in the blink of an eye, angrily pushing bodies away from him while the rest of his flock hurries to follow behind. Iguchi leans into your vision, pink color spreading over his cheeks and says something to you, but you struggle to focus when you feel the knot in your stomach growing.

When Shigaraki finally reaches you, he violently shoves his own friend to the side, looking angrier than you’ve ever seen him be.

“Fucking my friends now too, huh? Disgusting whore.” He actually spits right in front of your feet and you have to take a step back, nearly getting hit and scrunching your nose in the process.

You look around and see that you’re now surrounded by his circle, people you’ve only heard of from the insane fucking rumors circulating around Shigaraki.

Iguchi looked absolutely bewildered when he regained his balance. “Y-You guys know each other?” was all he could ask.

Shigaraki finally broke the intense eye contact with you and snapped his head to his friend.

“Know each other?” he growled through clenched teeth.

The blonde girl starts jumping excitedly, a sort of unsettling manic look coloring her face. Dabi only smiled at you slyly, standing there, arms crossed and enjoying the show, his little slut in tow.

The fuck? Were all his friends as insane as he was? Surely they could tell a fight was about to break out, and knowing Shigaraki, it was bound to be ugly. Were they not concerned at all? Unless–

Unless that’s exactly the kind of thing they were looking forward to.

You can’t help but feel a tremor in your bones. This was not high school and you weren’t fighting teenagers anymore. These were very much possibly convicted adult criminals standing around you and waiting sadistically for something bad to happen.

And you cannot take Shigaraki in a real fight.

Random people were now also turning their heads, trying to figure out what was going on, eventually pulling out their phones to either text or film the potential shit-show. You realize how badly you’d fucked up to get drunk.

“Answer me, bitch. Are you fucking my friends?” he hissed the question at you, grabbing the fabric of your clothes and pulling you to him, red eyes full of contempt.

“Can you blame her, boss?” a rough low voice spoke up before you could reply and adds, “She was so fucking cute in the store last time, lookin’ at me all starry eyed, weren’t you doll? Let me have her after you.” Dabi coos, sending you a kiss and unnecessarily fanning the flames to stir trouble, completely ignoring the obvious disappointment on his partner for the night.

And it worked like a fucking charm, because Shigaraki looked at you, white knuckling the fabric of your top like he was about to burn this entire building down, together with you in it.

Your head spun so fast—too many voices, too many people, too much shit going wrong tonight.

You’re anxious. You’re pissed. You wanna go home.

You’re tired, you’re tired, you’re tired. You miss your—

He snarls at you, red eyes narrowing and you snap.

“Fucking—ENOUGH!” you scream at the top of your lungs and straight into Shigaraki’s face, making him flinch and loosen his grip. Then you do the only thing your drunk overwhelmed brain could think of—

You slap the absolute living shit out of Shigaraki Tomura.

The entire room—including yourself, gasped in unison.

He completely froze, placing one hand on the burning and rapidly reddening cheek, staring off into space.

You heard his friends giggle and Dabi toppling over in laughter. The only person who was more unamused than yourself and the guy you just humiliated in front of an entire party of people, was Iguchi.

Not only was he unamused, he was shaking, looking absolutely horrified at what you’ve done to his friend.

The music died down completely by now, and you unwillingly became the protagonist of this room.

You try to step away, but your back hits the front of one of Shigaraki’s taller dark-haired friends, who was sporting a smug look that told you, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Uh oh, the creep is gonna snap her neck!” you hear someone shout from the peanut gallery. That comment seemed to wake him up because he lunged forward to grab your arm and started dragging you away with him somewhere—until Taylor drunkenly stepped in to break up whatever this mess was that you got yourself tangled into.

“Ya, okay, enough of that, Crusty!” They clap their hands twice like they were talking to a servant, grabbing Shigaraki’s arm to get him to let go of you.

He forcefully pushes them out of the way, causing your drunk friend to lose their footing and hit the floor hard.

You screeched at him again, kneeing him in the stomach as hard as you could, hearing him groan and finally freeing yourself. Your brain barely registered the blonde chick reaching for something and you saw a glint of familiar shaped metal as you stumbled to get to your friend who was kneeling on the floor, tears running down their face.

Shigaraki looked at his own friend who was gearing up for something and signaling her to stop whatever she was going to do.

Only for you to belatedly realize that she was just about to fucking stab you, had he not intervened.

You swallow emptily, feeling yourself shake and all color draining from your face.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch them again, you—you s-sick, depraved—fucking—fucking assholes!” you sobbed, struggling to help your friend up.

Where were all of Taylor’s useless fucking friends to help when they needed them?

You looked around but all you could see were cold stares everywhere you looked. Nobody lifted a finger.

Nobody dared to cross him.

A familiar sound of a deranged giggle cut straight through the silence like a knife. Your eyes shifted to the direction of the sound only to find red irises filled to the brim with unadulterated glee, staring right back at you.

Shigaraki felt something going off in his brain the moment he saw your adorably lost and confused face looking for help.

You’re finally, finally realizing it, aren’t you?

He walked over to you, sinking on one knee and you cursed yourself for wearing this stupid fucking outfit and leaving your pepper spray at home. You consider opting to violence for a second, but one look into his terrifying eyes has you second-guessing yourself long enough that he reaches forward first.

Shigaraki grabs you by your hair and gets up, forcing you to let go of your friend as you were dragged on your feet. Taylor whimpered from somewhere beneath you, but his tense grip wouldn’t allow you to turn your head and look.

You’ve never seen him look like this. He didn’t just look angry, he looked fucking savage.

The speechless crowd and his cruel but amused friends, split and made way for him with you in tow as if it was Moses himself, parting the red fucking sea.

You were too dizzy from the alcohol and the roots in your head burned too hard to be able to tell exactly, but you think you climbed a few stairs, walked a little more and suddenly you were shoved into a room with him right behind you.

Two strangers were caught in the act, but a quick look of recognition over Shigaraki’s form and a short barked order from him were enough for them to fuck off faster than you could yell for help.

He was right. You did finally realize.

You finally realized why everyone was so incredibly terrified of him. Why people whispered behind his back whenever he was around, but cowered if he were to give them a dirty look. Why there were so many insane rumors surrounding him and his shitty friends.

You finally realized that… those weren’t fucking rumors.

Hearing the telltale click of a door locking and seeing him turning to you has your brain beginning to sober up quickly. The only light that was barely illuminating this room came from a yellow colored bedside lamp.

“Let’s talk, hm?”

“You literally said—No, you promised!” you choked out, “You fucking promised you wouldn’t try to hurt me anymore,” you say, sobbing, fat fucking tears rolling down your cheeks, leaving behind dark trails of ruined mascara.

“So I lied. Now answer my fucking questions,” he growls, patience running thin. ”Did you think it was fun, telling me you liked me? Making me run around like some idiot?”

Shigaraki steps forward.

What? When did you ever tell him—

The phone call.

“What the hell are you talking—You! You’re ruining any chances of reconciliation with me, with every fucking second—” your voice cracks, “W-With every second that I’m locked in this fucking room with you, Shigaraki.”

He chooses to ignore you at first, taking another step in your direction.

“That’s fine.” He smiled. “Maybe you were right for once.” His fingers reached the back of his neck, rubbing it thoughtfully and humming as he moved in your direction, more self-assured than you’ve ever seen him be.

“Maybe I am done playing nice.”

“That so? Color me surprised.” You roll your eyes, unable to push your growing anxiety away.

He however doesn’t stop stalking towards you so you begin stepping back, but the back of your knees meet with the edge of someone’s bed.

You glanced behind you nervously.

“S-So what now,” you look back at him and huff. “Gonna rape me? Teach me a lesson?”

He chuckles, amused by your stupid question.

“No,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, placing a hand squarely on your sternum and effortlessly shoves you back.

You fall gracelessly on top of the bed, immediately grimacing knowing that someone else’s bare, sweaty ass was exactly where the back of your head now rested.

“Now, we’re going to talk.”

“Yeah? Well you better talk fast, because people—” you stuttered, feeling angry, scared and ashamed, “B-Because people—Because Taylor will call the fucking cops on you.”

And the fucking second you finish babbling your empty threats, you hear the party come alive once again, music blaring and vibrating through however many layers of brick separated you from the main room.

You cursed under your breath.

“Are they now?”

“Shigaraki, stop.”

“You look fucking adorable when you’re scared of me, did you know? Gets me reaaally hard,” he fucking moans as he shamelessly starts palming himself through his jeans. You couldn’t help but glance at his hand anxiously.

The warm dim light made him look nothing short of a beautiful, ethereal monster.

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me,” you chant uselessly as you screwed your wet eyes shut, trying to get away from him as much as possible, but he only reveled at the sound of your desperate pleas.

Yes—fucking yes, at last.

He cracked a wide grin. The only regret on his mind is not doing this to you sooner. It was so much more efficient using terror to break you down and make you his, compared to the previous pathetic attempts at getting you to want to be with him.

He could barely hold back his delight. You were so close.

Shigaraki climbs up your legs, effectively straddling you and patiently observing your reaction.

“I said relax, idiot,” he rasps, but the way he reached his hand out and used his dry, rough knuckles to slowly brush the side of your cheek, did absolutely nothing to help you relax. The touch felt like warm sandpaper and you couldn’t help but squirm under it. “We’re just going to talk.”

His fingers uncurl, exploring the planes of your soft face, the pads running gently over the bridge of your nose all the way to your lips—and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was admiring you by the slightly dazed look in his eyes. The same dazed look he gave that whore.

Shigaraki pushes his index finger into your mouth and you go ahead and bite it hard enough to leave a deep reddened dent. He just smiles and forces a second one in.

“Sho fuhkin’ tawk then,” you mumble around his salty fingers, words coming out funny and making you feel even more humiliated. You placed both of your hands against his firm chest, looking for a semblance of separation from him—any sort of false security.

His sinister smile spread even wider before he leaned in so close to your ear that you could feel his breath fanning against it. “Did you know that you have a lot of weak exploitable points?” he asks, biting his lower lip and pulling back just enough for you to look him in the eyes.

Gone were any traces of his softness from the time before tonight—all replaced by what looked like honest malice and bitter spite towards you.

The only thing you could reply with was a pathetic whimper.

“Your scholarship, the filthy fucking videos of you letting some lowlife scumbag fuck you.” He grimaced while he spat out the second part, but his wicked smile quickly returned to his lips. “Your…past,” Shigaraki says with an upward lilt in his tone, taking his fingers out and resting them on the top of your lips, allowing for your reaction.

“What?! How did you—”

His giggles cut you off. “People talk. You’d be surprised how easily they give me what I want, once they feel threatened,” he tells you, voice dark and foreboding.

You wanted to rebuke him, but the second your mouth opened again, he slipped his spit-covered fingers all the way to the back of your throat, the brusqueness prompting you to gag ugly around them.

Your hands try to reach for his wrist and push it away, but he was stronger and he was faster. He clicks his tongue at your disobedience, using his free grip to grab both of your hands, effortlessly pinning them to the side of your head in an uncomfortably forced position.

Was every time you could push him around just for show? And are you seriously only realizing that now?

Shigaraki waits for your breathing to slow, before he begins tormenting you by pumping his long bony fingers in and out of your mouth in a sickeningly slow manner. The sound of you gagging over and over and the wet sloppy squelches of your mouth were echoing in the room, complemented by the dampened party music and the sounds of his feral breathing.

“Ugh!” You try to get away from him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Shhh, I’ve seen you take worse. Good girl,” he cooed with his face close to yours, gaze fixated on the way your mouth clung to his fingers. You cringed when you felt him lick a long disgusting stripe from the bottom of your cheek all the way to the source of the trail of bitter tears.

He fucking groans. “See, you could be so good for me, but you always choose to be a mean little bitch instead.”

“Monster,” you croak a whisper and try to look away, but he grabs your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze back on him.

“I thought we already established that?”

You spit in his face, making him flinch.

Catching him off-guard seemed like a privilege today, so you quickly free yourself from his grip the moment his hand was loose enough.

Before he can take that freedom away, you grab his shirt with one hand and your fist flies towards his face using whatever leverage you had in this position.

Now or never.

“You little–!” he growls at you, unfortunately dropping his entire weight on top of your body before your punch could connect, causing you to only be able to uselessly smack the top part of his shoulder.

He slides his arms to grab yours and uses bruising force to render them useless at the sides of your head. “Are you trying to piss me off today?” he barks at you angrily, getting halfway up to shift one of his knees on top of your stomach and pressing his weight into it.

“Urk—” you almost literally vomit from the pressure, but he lets up before you can.

“Are you going to behave now and listen to what I say, or are you going to keep being difficult?”

Difficult? You were being difficult? You’d laugh if this wasn’t quickly going up the ranks as one of the worst nights of your life. Instead, you just roll your eyes, as if you weren’t a quivering mess. As if he wasn’t scaring you.

Shigaraki’s gaze narrows. He thought he was closer to breaking you, but you obviously still had a lot of fight left in you. He supposes you’ve been through worse, so maybe he had to truly outmatch your greatest monsters.

He decided he’ll start easy.

“Answer my question, slut. The next time you don’t answer me, I’ll have to start punishing you,” he grunted but you remained defiantly quiet.

Shigaraki huffed, lifting his knee away from your sensitive stomach, earning him a relieved exhale from you—that quickly turned into alarm the moment he wedged it between your thighs instead, inches away from your cunt.

He smirked at your horrified expression and began pressing it against you experimentally, drawing out a pathetic whimper.

“Oh?” he breathes into your ear, bending his body to press his knee against your core again.

That, unfortunately, wins him another distressed gasp from you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans in response, momentarily forgetting that this was supposed to be your punishment and reminding you just how much of a depraved virgin he really was.

Which gives you an idea.

You close your eyes and softly grind yourself up against his thigh, all while pretending you didn’t want him to notice. It slightly backfires when you start feeling a little hot, your face slightly scrunching up in pleasure.

When you opened your eyes again, Shigaraki looked a little more disheveled than before.

His vindictive demeanor from seconds ago slightly softened.

“I thought you didn’t want to fuck me?” he throws you a playful grin and you snort.

“You call getting myself off on your leg ‘fucking’ you?”

Something dangerous sparked in his red, obsessive eyes, the moment those words left your mouth, sending a jolt through your spine all the way to your core and it made you swallow. Hard.

“Okay,” he resolves, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling darkly.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead, get yourself off,” Shigaraki offers, putting more pressure against your heat.

You try moving away, glaring at him.

“You’re a fucking freak,” you finally conclude, despite the blush spreading on your cheeks, the growing warmth between your legs and your stupid little plan falling apart.

“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted to get off?” He leaned in looking smugly and his nose brushed yours, breath smelling like cigarettes and gin. You roll your eyes and he’s slightly disappointed that you don’t give him what he wants.

Your gaze falls onto his chapped lips for just a second, but even that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you want to kiss me instead?” he whispers tilting his head and his grin spreads.

“In your dreams,” you lie. “Now let go of me.”

“Why, I think you quite like this position.” He lowers his head to the junction between your neck and your shoulder, deeply inhaling your scent like a depraved pervert.

You wouldn’t understand the level of patience he was exerting with you. You probably thought he was incredibly cruel, but he was still holding back.

Burning with the desire to mark you, he let go of one of your arms and slid his hand all the way to your neck, spindly fingers wrapping around it, then squeezing experimentally.

“Why…do you act so—” he tightened his grip some more, making you struggle to breathe the words out, “fu—fuh—cked…up?”

The sight of you made his hard cock twitch in his pants.

“Because I want you,” he admits completely unapologetically, pressing his dry, cracked lips to the side of your neck and kissing it softly. The rough texture in contrast to the odd gentleness of the kiss made you shiver. “—and I’ve decided that I’m gonna have you.”

The audacity makes you burst into hysterical laughter, but he immediately cuts off your airway using the hand that still rested on your neck, making you gasp soundlessly.

“Is it that funny?” His teeth graze the sensitive skin on your neck. “Did you fuck Spinner?” Shigaraki growls at you suddenly and forgets you can’t breathe. Only when your body starts convulsing slightly from the tight grip, does he let up.

“Who?” you coughed.

“Don’t act stupid now,” he hisses, “The fucking nerd with long purple hair.”

“Oh, him?” You grinned angrily, taunting him, “That’s too bad, because it’s really none of your business.”

—was the wrong thing to say apparently, because he punches the bed with brutal force right next to your head, making you yelp.

“Fucking, ANSWER ME!” he screams and you flinch again.

“N-No, you asshole. I didn’t fuck any your friends, fuck.” you whisper submissively, feeling a familiar burn in your chest.

“Then why—!” he chokes, his face remaining partially hidden from behind his white hair, as you were staring at the ceiling with a fresh round of tears brimming in your eyes.

Shigaraki slowly sits up to look down at you and your gaze follows him as his whole body weight finally lifts from you. On your neck, he could see the faint red outline of his hand. His handprint.

His gaze hardens, going back to his stiff, unemotional self.

“It doesn’t matter,” he resolves in a tone so cold, it sends another chill down your spine.

“W-What do you mean?”

“I mean, that starting tonight you’ll become my bitch.” He pushes himself off of the bed, fixing his clothes and you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do, and if you don’t—” He smirked sadistically before he continued, “I’ll just destroy everything you’ve ever held dear.” Shigaraki says, patting down his arms and his clothes as if to dust your filthy presence off.

You lie motionless at first until the words finally register into your alcohol addled brain. Sitting up, your face contorts in anger and you go off.

“You’re absolutely fucking nuts if you think—”

A sharp crack echoed in the room and judging by the position of your head, you realize Shigaraki had hit you across the face. Hard.

You don’t hold back the violent sobs that escape you. It really fucking hurts.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” he growled, grabbing you by the roots of your hair and turning your head to him. His jaw was clenched tight. “You’re a pathetic, self-destructive, little, fucking whore,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “And you should’ve taken the chance to kill yourself right after I showed your cute little ass to everyone. But do you know what?” You felt the warmth of his breath brushing over your cheek.

“Now you belong to me. So go ahead and try blowing your brains out, because not only will I make true on everything I told you, but your precious little friend, your coworkers, your boss—even your fucking therapist will regret the day you were fucking born.”

“No…” your breath came out as shaky, and the following words that came out of his mouth completely shattered you.

“Just like your mommy did. That’s why she killed your brother and shot herself up with heroin until she fucking died too. Just like your brother always will, from under his cozy little grav–”

You remember a loud howl but you don’t remember how you landed in the middle of the street, shoes and your jacket long forgotten.

You don’t remember how long you’ve been walking for, or where you were right now.

You don’t remember, you can’t stop trembling or crying hysterically and you don’t know what to do.

You don’t know what to do.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

— NEW MESSAGES —

Psycho – i’m nice to my toys so i’ll look past your little tantrum this time [Sent 2:34 AM]

Psycho – you better show 2 class tmr otherwise i promise u really won’t like what will happen if you dont. [Sent 2:35 AM]

Psycho – sweet dreams :) [Sent 2:35 AM]

It was game over.

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