tags: fluff, crack, copious amounts of beth crowley worship, mild vulgar language because I can't help but swear like a sailor
written based off song 37 from my Spotify Wrapped, with the pairing bakukami. song is here if you're interested
written for bee. thanks for the prompt đ
I became a footnote in your life, but you were in the final draft of mine. As I watch the ink bleed off the page, Iâm wondering how I was so easily erased.
âDenks. Please. You know I love Beth Crowley as much as the next girl, but this?â
Denki glared at Jirou from his upside-down position on his bed, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as she searched his battered wit for some sort of retort. The day had been too damn long.Â
âYou do have your own room, you know,â he muttered, devoid of any real heat.Â
When did you become this cruel? We were really something, werenât we?
Jirou arched an eyebrow at him. âWhat, and let you cry yourself to sleep listening to a heartbreak playlist over a boy who has the emotional range of an inverted blood blister? A boy who fucks your brains out and then treats you like shit? This is the boy youâre crying over?â
âYou donât understand,â Denki pushed himself into a seated position, scrubbing at his eyes.Â
âI will never understand men,â Jirou sighed, her tone fond as she tossed him a hairtie to get his bangs out of his face.Â
âYeah well, Iâll never understand women. Are you and Momo still planning on living together over the summer?â
âShe has an internship close by and it just makes sense to - no!â Jirou pointed an accusatory finger at him. âYouâre not distracting me! Weâre taking about you and our resident angry pomeranian.â
Denki chuckled, the shadow of a smile on his lips that faded instantly with his next words. âThereâs nothing to talk about. He made that clear.â
How do I remember us so differently? We were really something, werenât we? Or was it just me?
âNope! Weâre done with this.âÂ
Jirou stood swiftly, crossing over and slamming Denkiâs laptop closed, silencing Beth Crowleyâs beautiful, plaintive voice before the song could repeat again. Denki glared at her, twisting his bangs up away from his forehead and securing them with the tie.Â
âIâm not letting you cry for one more minute over Katsuki fucking Bakugou -â
A knock sounded at the door and Denki flinched, shrinking deeper into his blanket pile on his bed. Jirou watched him for a moment, until she realized he wasnât planning on answering the door at all. She patted his head before she moved to pull the door open.
âWhat are you doing here, earphones?â
Denki peeked up, his stomach twisting when he saw Bakugou, his hand still raised as if he meant to knock again. Jirou let out a long sigh of relief.
âThank god. I donât know what you did, but fix this before he plays this song again and ruins any chance I have at a hero career.â Jirou rubbed at one earphone jack, glancing over her shoulder at Denki sympathetically. âLove you.â
âLove you too,â Denki muttered before Jirou ducked out of the room.Â
She shoved Bakugou in behind her and slammed the door, leaving them alone. Denki had half a mind to turn the music back on, but not even Beth Crowley could fix this now. Katsuki stood in the middle of the room, taking in the sight of Denki on the bed, of the smudges of eyeliner under his eyes, and even the damn ponytail his bangs made over his forehead. Katsukiâs eyebrows knit together with concern before his eyes darted around the room again.
âWhatâs wrong? Did something happen?â
That was his Kacchan. Always on alert for any potential threat, and missing the true issue right in front of him. Denki huffed, tugging the hairtie out and trying to hide behind his bangs once more.Â
âNothingâs wrong. Donât worry about it.â
âWhen the hell did you start lying to me, Sparky?âÂ
âYou were mean to me, Kacchan,â Denki huffed, wrapping one of his many blankets around himself like that could hide him from how pathetic his words were. âAnd not just mean to me. You were mean to me on the same day that I failed our history exam and had to make up this weekâs practical in place of lunch, and really itâs my fault. Itâs my fault for thinking that just because you had your dick in my ass, you might stop hating me for maybe even two seconds. I should have known better.â
For once, heâd actually managed to silence the explosive Kacchan. Denki sighed, crawling out of his blanket fort and moving over to his dresser, staunchly avoiding his reflection in favor of dabbing makeup remover over the eyeliner smudges. He didnât know why he bothered; it wasnât like Bakugou was going to be impressed no matter what he did. Today had made that perfectly clear.
âI donât.â
Denki paused, eyes darting to the mirror where he could see that Bakugou had turned to face him, even if he kept his eyes on the floor.Â
âDonât what?â
âHate you.â
Denki let out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head slowly, and when he spoke, his voice came out darker, more bitter than heâd allowed himself to feel in years.Â
âYeah. Sure. I can definitely tell, especially when you call me dunce-face and volts for brains.â
And there was the real hurt, under the layers of Beth Crowleyâs gorgeous vocals - because yes, Katsuki had listened to the songs Denki had sent him, but he sure as hell wasnât going to admit that out loud any time soon. He had to keep some secrets.
But the hurt was real. Denki had taken his words to heart. Every venom-laced barb that Katsuki wished he could take back two seconds after he said them, Denki had taken to heart. Denki thought he didnât believe in him? He thought he didnât see?
âFuck, Denki.â
A thrill ran up Denkiâs spine at the sound of his name on Bakugouâs lips, giving him a shadow of hope. But heâd learned - heâd learned where he stood to Bakugou. He was a convenient fuck, but -Â
âDenki, I like you. Fuck. Fuck, I like you. And I respect you. Iâm damn glad youâve got my back in a fight, you hit like a - a fucking power station. Youâre an asset, Denki. Youâre an asset, and youâre gonna be a great hero, and fuck. I like your eyes. I like your eyes, and your laugh, and I know I can be a bitch. I know Iâm gonna stay stupid shit and youâre going to end up hating me in the end, because I am incapable of not pushing people away when I start to care about them. But Iâm trying. Iâm sorry.â
Denki turned, and horror twisted Katsukiâs stomach when he saw the tears in Denkiâs eyes once more. How had he fucked up that badly?Â
âShit. Shit, Denki, I - fuck, what did I say? Iâve been practicing that speech, dammit. Yeah, I didnât expect this to be the way I said it, but Iâve been trying for fucking weeks, and Iâm - fuck, Denki, thatâs about the best words Iâve got, and I donât -â
Denki shut him up before he could ramble any longer, throwing his arms around Katsukiâs neck and kissing him hungrily. Katsuki was frozen for all of two seconds before he lifted the smaller boy off the ground, coming alive under his touch.Â
âYou could have told me -â Denki panted out in between kisses. â-that you liked me before you fucked me, you know.â
Katsuki snorted. âOh yeah? When? Before or after you slipped your hand down my shorts during movie night? If I remember right, you didnât give me much of a chance to talkâŚâ
Denki let out a strangled moan, wrapping his legs around Katsukiâs hips. âEven then?â
âEven then, Sparky.â
Theyâd work on his terrible communication skills later. Right now, Denki had those calloused hands gripping his ass to hold him up, and nothing could possibly have been wrong in the world.
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At the encouragement of my family, I'm going to post it! This does not have a happy ending, I'm trying for a "rip your heart out with rusty claws" kinda thing. If you like sadfic, please let me know what you think!
Words: 2103
Pairing: CherryBerry
TW: Car accident, trauma, character death
Taking advantage of the pause at the red traffic light, Red looked over at his partner in the passenger seat. Blue was rambling excitedly over all the cards and gifts he'd gotten at the baby shower. One hand was on his eco-belly, the other was holding every card up for Red to inspect and nod appreciatively at for the third or fourth time each. Which he did of course, because it made Blue happy. When Blue was happy, he was happy.
Damn, Blue was cute, and Red couldn't help the sappy grin on his face.
The light turned green and Red put the car into gear as he heard Blue huff good naturedly. "Can you believe this card from Papy?" He asked, holding up the offending card with a smile. Red took a peek. There was a picture on the front of two halves of an avocado. The text read, "holy guacomole, you're going to avo baby!"
Red laughed. Really, that one had been his favorite. He was about to say so when he saw the truck outside Blue's window.
"Shit! Blue!" he cried out, throwing his arm out across Blue as the world erupted in the sound of broken glass and screeching metal.
âŚ
Blue was on his back, and all around him was chaos. A light flashed in front of his eye sockets, once, twice, three times. When it pulled away he realized he was moving, looking a ceiling as he followed a series of square tiles down an impossibly long hallway.
There were humans all around him, some touching him, some asking him questions. Faces filled and left his vision faster than he could focus on them.
He felt something sharp prick his right heel, and he tried to pull it back, but strong hands held him down. There was the distinctive feel of a needle being driven the the ecto flesh along his upper arm, and he found he couldn't move those either. He tried to speak, tried to ask what was happening, but the words wouldn't come out.
"âŚlateral mvc, gcs 9, e3 v2 m4âŚ"
There was a jarring motion as he was lifted and yanked sideways. He cried out, pain, sharp, twisting, burning pain erupting across his pelvis.
The hands were on him again, pulling at his clothes. He saw a pair of scissors, and he tried to cry out to them, to beg them to please, please don't cut his clothes. Red had bought this outfit for him, Red had picked it out just for-
Stars, where was Red?
As if Blue had summoned him by thought alone, he heard Red's voice screaming, crying, from somewhere outside the circle of humans around him.
"Get the fuck off'a me, y'bastards! Fuckin' help him! Help him!"
Blue was shivering, his clothing gone. The pain had started to recede, ever so slightly. The hands never stopped touching him, poking and prodding his naked bones and blue magic. His hip hurt, and he didn't know what was happening to his baby. Someone pressed something cold and sticky to his ribs, and then another, and another. It felt gross against his summoned flesh. There was a constant, frantic beeping sound coming from a machine by his head.
"âŚpelvic fracture, magic hypotensiveâŚ"
A pair of eyes leaned into his field of vision, commanding his attention. It was a human doctor, with a mask over their nose and mouth and strange, tight hat on their head. They were saying something, their voice calm and commanding. They were talking about his baby.
"âŚyour baby. The team is going to be doing a lot of things, try to focus on taking deep breathsâŚ"
Ok, he could do that. He inhaled, then exhaled, and the doctor nodded. There was more pain, this time across his abdomen. Gulping air, he stared at the light on the ceiling, struggling to breathe, to just keep breathing like he'd been told. In and out, ignoring the hands and needles and fear.
In and out, in and out, in andâŚ. outâŚ
âŚ
Red was fucking scared. No, worse than that, he was terrified out of his ever loving skull. At first he'd fought the humans that came to help, struggling to reach Blue. The crash had busted multiple bones, the worst being his shattered ulna and radius. They dangled uselessly, threads of magic barely keeping them from scattering across the ground. But that had been nothing, he could handle broken bones, he wasn't going to die.
Pickup trucks weren't usually known for their intent to kill.
But he'd seen Blue. Now, every time he blinked he saw Blue, his namesake magic spilled across the pavement in an ever increasing puddle. Asgore's hairy ass, he'd had no idea a monster could lose that much magic and still be alive. But Blue wasn't dust, Red had seen him, and he wasn't dust.
So when they'd arrived at the hospital he'd yelled at the doctors, screamed at the nurses, did everything he could think of to get them to pay attention to Blue, not him.
They'd removed his jacket, and were trying to remove his shirt to look for more injuries. They were actually cutting the fucking thing off him! He knew they were just doing their job, but it didn't matter! He needed to find Blue, they need to help Blue!
Someone grabbed his unbroken arm, forcing him to look up into the face of a human nurse. "Hey! Hey you, what's your name, sir?"
He couldn't believe the gall of this human, who the hell did she think she was?? "Get the fuck off'a me, y'bastards! Fuckin' help him! Help him!"
"Help me out here, sir," she ordered, a hint of steel in her tone. "Please, if you don't calm down we will have to sedate you."
Fighting to pull his arm out her grip, he snarled at her, the feral gesture showing off every one of his sharp fangs. "Like I give a damn?! Help him!"
She was face to face with an angry monster in pain and she barely flinched. Red couldn't help but be the tiniest bit impressed as she stood her ground and glared right back at him.
"Sir, I'm trying but I need you to work with me here, and you can't help them if you're sedated!"
Shit, she was right. Blue needed him. "Fuck, fuck! I'll calm down, a'ight?" He stopped pulling against her, and she released his arm. He tried to look around for Blue, and couldn't see him anymore. "Where is he? What's going on with him?
"Your friend is being taken to surgery, and the doctors are doing everything they can to help her and her baby- Uh, I mean, help him and his baby."
Red could have laughed. Like this was the fucking time to be concerned about Stars damned pronouns? He held it in, worried that if he started laughing he might never stop.
Fuck, he needed to get ahold of Stretch. "Lady, please, come on, where's my jacket? I got'a call his brother!"
She looked around, and shouted a quick, "Hey!" across the room. A young man in grey turned and began to make his way towards them, although Red didn't have the slightest clue how he'd heard the single syllable through all the commotion.
"We can't let you make a call right now until you get admitted- hold on- I said hold on!" she exclaimed, her hands up as he shouted his dismay. "I'll make the call for you. What's your name?"
"San- fuck! Red. Name's Red." What the hell name was he supposed to give them anyway? That was something he certainly didn't have the fucking time for! "I need'ya to call Stretch, he's in my contacts."
"Got it. Now," she said, pulling the youth in front of Red. He looked about as happy with the situation as Red felt. "While I do that, Mark here is going to get your history and we're going to get a look at that arm, alright Mr. Red?"
Red nodded, he didn't think he was going to get a better deal. "Make sure Blue's ok for me, will ya? And if you can, call my bro- ah, fuck, nevermind, he might come down here. Just let Stretch know, okay?" She nodded, flashed him a thumbs up, and disappeared off into the crowd.
"Now, Mr. uh, Red?" Mark began timidly. "I have just a few questions for youâŚ" Red grimaced, already regretting that he let himself be talked into compliance.
Sometime later, Red, his arm freshly stabilized, was sitting up as Mark was carefully taping up his ribs. He didn't know how long it'd been. Might have been ten minutes, might have been an hour. They'd pumped him full of pain meds, and he was pleased that everything seemed so much more tolerable now.
"Heh, kinda nice not having to deal with all that fleshy junk, huh?" He asked, and the kid just nodded as he gently wrapped up one of Red's floating ribs. Fuck, he was young. He looked like he couldn't be more than 16, but Red didn't think humans allowed teenagers to work in hospitals. At least, he was pretty sure.
He had to admit though, the human had a skill for wrapping up bones.
There was a new commotion from the doors to the front, and Red looked up to see Stretch pushing his way inside, his cell phone still clasped tightly in his fist. Humans in colorful scrubs rushed him from all sides, shouting and trying to push him back out the doorway. His eye lights, blown wide with fear, fell on Red, and he took a step back from the humans, and vanished.
There's a pop of displaced air and suddenly Stretch was leaning over Red's hospital cart, grabbing at his shoulder joint. Mark jumped back with a yell, and Red flinched as his hand tweaked a rib.
"Red! Oh, Stars Red! What's happened? Where's Sans?" Stretch's grip on his arm was too tight, but Red couldn't seem to care.
"Stretch, there ya' are. It was a fuckin' crash, man. Fuckin' truck. Don't worry, Nurse Rachet's taking care of Blue. She said she would." He smiled up at Stretch, trying to reassure him. Stretch didn't look reassured. "They got me on all kinds'a fuckin' stuff right now. It's a trip, heh."
The confused look on Stretch's face was priceless, though Red knew it shouldn't be.
Stretch scowled down at Mark, who couldn't stop staring. Red didn't blame him, an angry Papyrus was one hell of a sight. "What did you do to him?"
"It- it's just demerol, for the pain," Mark stuttered out. "He'll b-be fine, he just has a couple fractures."
"Where's my brother?" Stretch demanded, growing more and more agitated. "Where's Sa- Blue? Whatever the hell he's here under!"
Red's concentration began to wander when he noticed a group of humans coming their way. Behind them he could see the tough nurse lady talking to someone in surgeon scrubs. "Heya, Stretch," he called, hitting the tall monster's chest with the back of his hand to get his attention. "There's Nurse Ratchet. She can tell ya'."
The nurse stared at the surgeon for a moment, then turned towards Red. Their gazes locked, and her eyes filled with tears.
Oh. Oh fuck, that was bad, wasn't it?
There was the sharp sound of cracking glass as Stretch's phone hit the tiled floor.
"Red, Stars RedâŚ" There was pure, unadulterated horror in Stretch's voice. "We need a Reset. We have to get Frisk."
"âŚYeah," Red replied. His Soul felt like a block of ice in his chest, heavy and immobile. He couldn't breathe. He glanced at the wreck of Stretch's smartphone lying shattered on the ground. "Ratchet's got my phone."
...
Frisk Dreemur was lying on the living room floor, working on solving a Monster Kid Crossword while Toriel sat on the couch behind them, a book titled, "The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating" clutched delicately in her paws.
There was the vrr! vrr! of a cell phone ringing on silent, and Frisk pulled it out of their pocket, looking at their mom before answering. Toriel glanced at the clock, then smiled, nodding her permission.
Frisk looked at the display, and saw that Red was calling. He and Blue were going to have their baby soon, and Frisk was going to be the best cousin ever. The thought of all the fun they were someday going to have filled them with Determination. They saved the game and answered the call.
tags: just tddk fluff. lots of fluff. quirkless tddk, med student!shouto, teacher!izuku, and long-distance boys in love
inspired by this tweet from tddkaubot
---
Izuku ran a hand over his tired face, wondering just which god heâd managed to piss off today. Traffic was backed up down the block, which usually only happened if there was some sort of police situation. Which meant his car probably wouldnât be moving for the foreseeable future. Which was perfectly fine with him.
He hated driving. Hated driving in inclement weather even more. His beat-up sedan had even more beat-up windshield wipers, which were working frantically to try to keep the downpour at bay long enough for Izuku to see the taillights of the overly-ostentatious sports car in front of him.
That car probably cost more than two yearsâ salary for Izuku. If he had a car like that, he definitely wouldnât have it out in the rain andâŚwas that hail? Izuku groaned, knocking his head lightly against the steering wheel as the line of cars crept forward before easing to a stop again. Of course it was hail. Because the gods hated him and thought his car didnât already have enough hail damage.
He peeked at his phone, nestled in the cup holder where it would stay until he got home. Which might be tomorrow morning at this rate. He hadnât heard from Shouto yet today, but his boyfriend kept odd hours. Medical school demanded odd hours. An ache settled in his chest as he scrubbed weary fingers through emerald curls. Only one more weeks until Shoutoâs school went on break, and he and Shouto could spend an entire month together.
It was days like today where Izuku really, selfishly, regretted encouraging his boyfriend to go to the best medical school in the country. Which happened to be halfway across the country. Izuku hadnât been able to follow him - he had a job he loved here, students who needed him, his entire life had always been here. But dammit, heâd had a shitty day and he was allowed to feel miserable for himself for a moment, okay?!
He sniffled, rubbing a hand across his eyes and wincing when his eyes very painfully reminded that he hadnât been able to get all of the glitter off his hands before leaving school for the day. They really werenât kidding when they said it would get everywhere. Including - apparently - his eyes.
Well, at least he was already tearing up. It would make getting the glitter out easier. Izuku let out a frustrated whine, resting his forehead against the steering wheel as he allowed himself a moment to cry. It was to get the glitter out, okay?!
And of course the asshole behind him chose that moment to honk.
Izuku jumped, his foot almost coming off the clutch- which, the last thing he needed was to stall out right now - as he gave the blurry headlights behind him an exasperated look. Seriously? Who honks in a traffic jam in the middle of a goddamn rainstorm? Wiping the tears from his eyes - and smearing another resilient patch of glitter across his face - he straightened up in his seat; he just had to get through this drive, and then he could curl up in a bath and maybe talk to Shouto and try to forget this horrible day ever existed.
The brakelights in front of him flickered as the car began to creep forward and Izuku resisted the urge to flip off the car behind him as he shifted his car back into drive. He hated driving. Why did he ever let Shouto convince him to keep this car?
Because he wanted you to have a way to drive home so you didnât get robbed on the subway again. He offered to buy you a nicer car. You said no. His inner voice reminded him snootily. How dare he want his boyfriend to be safe?
His car crept forward, his feet finding the perfect balance between the pedals to keep the car shuttering along, trying to fight the way his mind was attempting to drag him further down into his pity party.
The last thing Izuku wanted was for Shouto to feel like he couldnât take care of himself. He didnât want Shouto to feel responsible for him - he couldnât be a burden.
Izuku was shocked back to the present when his car jolted, a tremor running through its shaky-but-dependable frame before Izukuâs foot slipped off the clutch and the car stalled out.
No. No no no no no. No, it wasnât possible. He couldnât have hit the car in front of him. Heâd done the calculations in his head the entire time. He knew exactly how far his car extended in front of him, exactly how much wiggle room he had before he even came remotely close to the vicinity of potentially tapping another car.
For a moment, he sat there in stunned silence, listening to the increasingly-loud rainfall on the roof of his car. AndâŚyep, that was definitely hail.
Because apparently the gods hadnât tortured him enough today.
The very-expensive car heâd just rear-ended flipped its hazards on and Izuku felt his stomach drop into his toes. Okay. Apparently they were doing this here, in the middle of traffic - not like they had an option to get out of the lanes they were in anyway. Izuku tapped the button to turn his own hazards on, taking his time to try to salvage some semblance of dignity. He grabbed his wallet, already running the calculations for how much damage he possibly could have done to the very rich personâs very expensive car.
The lock stuck when he tried to open his door - like it always did - and Izuku took out some of his frustration in shouldering the door open. It popped free with a squeal, and Izuku stepped out into the rain and hail.
Of course he hadnât brought his good jacket today.
The driver of the car behind him honked again, and really that was the last straw. Izuku whipped around, his hands trembling with exhaustion and desperation and an unhealthy amount of rage.
âWhere the hell would you like us to go?! Honking just makes you look like an asshole, you know!â
The driver probably couldnât hear him over the storm, but it did help quell some of the turmoil twisting his stomach into knots.
âIzuku?â
Izuku froze, that voice doing more for him than a weekend spent in his tub could possibly hope to achieve. He could literally feel the tension easing out of his shoulders - instantly being replaced by confusion.
He spun in place, nearly toppling over as his feet slid on the slick pavement. Getting out of the ridiculously-expensive car heâd just hit was a very familiar lithe figure, two-toned hair getting drenched immediately in the downpour. Izukuâs jaw dropped as Shouto closed the distance between them, collar of his coat tucked up against the wind and rain.
âShouto?â Izuku wasnât proud of the way that his voice cracked, crooked fingers reaching out. Was he dreaming? Was this some sort of stress-induced hallucination meant to protect what little sanity he had left?
Shouto reached him, taking his hands between his own, heterochromatic eyes sweeping over Izukuâs face, taking in the glitter streaked in his freckles like tiny stars, winking as the rain hit them.
âIt was holiday arts and crafts day, wasnât it?â Shouto murmured fondly, reaching up to brush a thumb over Izukuâs cheekbone, tracing a cluster of freckles.
âI swear those children have a superhuman ability to get glitter everywhere.â Izuku shook his head, damp green curls falling in his eyes.
âIf only you had a boyfriend here willing to take a very long bath with you and ensure that we find every last speck of glitter,â Shouto murmured, long slender fingers trailing down Izukuâs sides, leaving flickers of heat in their wake.
Izuku knew he had to be dreaming. Shouto couldnât be here. He couldnât have just rear-ended his boyfriendâs rental car in traffic during the worst storm theyâd had in years on a Friday after heâd wrangled thirty kindergarteners all day and tried to stop each and every one of them from eating glue. That sort of thing only happened in rom-coms.
Granted, every day of Izukuâs life since he met Shouto had felt like a rom-com.
âWhat are you doing here?â Izuku whispered, committing this image of him to memory, standing soaked in the rain, looking like something out of every dream Izuku ever had for his future.
âI took my exams early,â Shouto murmured. âI caught the first flight out this morning.â
âAnd got the most expensive rental car they had?â Izuku eyed the scratched-up bumper on the car in question. He had no idea how he was going to pay for that.
âItâs not a rental; itâs my dadâs. Donât worry about it.â Shouto wrapped an arm around Izukuâs waist. âIâm more worried about your car.â
Izuku shook his head; his car was the last thing he was worried about right now. âItâll hold up. Just have to get it home.â
A clatter broke through the constant barrage of rain, and Izuku winced, glancing sheepishly over his shoulder. His fender sat haphazardly where it was half-attached to the frame of his car. He groaned, hiding his face against Shoutoâs chest and drinking in the feeling of his silent laughter.
Heâd missed him so damn much.
âWill you let me buy you a new car now?â Shouto asked softly.
âI can get that fixed, itâs not -â
Protests died in Izukuâs throat when he heard his fender give a final clatter as the entire thing broke off and fell to the pavement.
ââŚokay.â
Heâd held his own for this long. It was okay to let his ridiculously-wealthy boyfriend take care of him sometimes, right?
He wanted to keep this peace with Class A as long as possible. He was almost...comfortable here. He didnât want to lose that.
Heâd also be lying if he said there wasnât one person in particular making him feel comfortable. One human embodiment of fucking sunshine would be more accurate.
Which is why, when Denki appeared at his doorway late one night, Shinsou didnât even think about turning him away.
Shinsou's no stranger to panic attacks. He is, however, a stranger to helping someone through their own panic attack. But he's apparently incapable of saying no to Denki Kaminari.
---
Shinsou generally kept to himself since joining Class A. Heâd told Aizawa that he had no intention of making friends - hell, heâd told his future classmates that before heâd even joined the class.
Not that some of them listened. They were all friendly enough - except Bakugou, but over the past year, even heâd found middle ground with Shinsou. They worked together well in training; they didnât need to be friends. Honestly, Shinsou preferred it that way. Friends meant people around, and experience had taught Shinsou that the more time people spent around him, the faster they grew wary of him.
So far, Class A hadnât seemed to fear him, and heâd be lying if he said a part of him wasnât a little desperate to keep it that way. He couldnât remember the last time none of his classmates looked at him like he was lurking in the background, waiting to strike - ever vigilant, waiting for the day he decided to use his quirk against them.
He wanted to keep this peace with Class A as long as possible. He was almost...comfortable here. He didnât want to lose that.
Heâd also be lying if he said there wasnât one person in particular making him feel comfortable. One human embodiment of fucking sunshine would be more accurate. Ever since Denki barged into his life during the Joint Training Sessions, Shinsou knew his dedication to keeping himself distant was going to fail. That ball of energy was going to wear him down eventually.
Which is why, when Denki appeared at his doorway late one night, Shinsou didnât even think about turning him away. Especially not when Denkiâs face lifted to his, and Shinsou saw tears streaking that beautiful, sunny face.
âShin-I-please.â
The words stuttered out of Denki, his frantic eyes searching for something in Shinsouâs face. Shinsou didnât know what he was looking for, but he stepped aside, letting the boy into his room.
Denki was trembling. Shinsou recognized the tension in his lungs, the way his breaths rattled in his throat. Heâd had more than enough panic attacks in his life to know one when he saw it. But he didnât have a single fucking clue what Denki needed to pull him out of it, so he hovered close by as the boy shuffled forward. He closed the door behind him, watching as Denki shoved his hands through his hair, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.
âKaminari,â Shinsou murmured, not wanting to startle the boy as he took the smallest step toward him. âYouâre safe.â He needed him to know that. He needed the boy to know he hadnât made the wrong decision in coming here.
Denki nodded, the movement jerky as those wide golden eyes locked on him. âI-I-â
âYouâre okay,â Shinsou promised him softly, taking another step closer when the boy didnât flinch away. âHere, letâs get you sitting down, okay?â
Denki shook his head, little sparks flying off him into the air around them. âCanât. I-I canât. I need-â
Shinsou stilled, wishing like hell he wasnât so fucking bad at this. He didnât know how to help. He knew what helped him when his attacks were at their worst, but he didnât think Denki would appreciate being shoved in the back of his closet and covered with a blanket.
âWhat do you need?â
The boy didnât answer, staring at the floor in front of him with those wide eyes shining with desperation. Shinsou swallowed tightly; he couldnât even be sure if the boy heard him. He took another step, and Denkiâs eyes shot up to meet his.
âDenki.â Shinsou spoke softly, fingers itching to reach for him, to give him something to hold on to, but he didnât know if that was what the boy needed. âWhat do you need?â
Words were clearly hard for Denki right now, and his breaths continued to spike, a wheeze settling in around each gasp of air. Shinsou needed to get him calmed down, and fast.
âShow me. Show me what you need.â
Denkiâs fingers flexed in the air between them, and he made a gesture toward Shinsou, almost...beckoning. Shinsou took another step, and Denki met him in the middle, trembling fingers coming up to tap the center of Shinsouâs forehead. Shinsou went cross-eyed trying to follow the motion, his eyebrows furrowing.
Was Denki telling him to think?
Denki let out a sound almost like a whine, his chest heaving as he curled his fingers in Shinsouâs shirt. âI-you-quirk.â
Shinsou went cold. Denki wanted...his quirk? He wanted him to use his quirk on him? Was this some kind of test? Did Aizawa want to test him? Did Class A? Did they think that all he needed was an excuse?
It wasnât that his quirk couldnât be useful in a situation like this. Heâd used it to help Eri out of her bad spirals more than once. He knew heâd be able to help Denki, but if this was all a test, he could get kicked out of school. He could lose any progress heâd made toward being a hero - hell, it would ruin his one chance if he made the wrong decision here.
He should have said no. But he didnât. He couldnât, not with Denkiâs panicked eyes locked on him, with those lips - usually sporting a blinding smile - quivering with each frantic breath. Fuck, heâd likely regret this, but he couldnât - he couldnât just let him hurt. Not when he could help.
âYou want me to use my quirk on you?â
Denki let out a choked sound, his head jerking in a nod. âPl-â
That soft, aborted noise was all Shinsou needed to take his mind. The panic faded from Denkiâs eyes as Shinsouâs presence wrapped around him, though his breaths were still coming much too fast for Shinouâs liking. He forced the terror into the recesses of Denkiâs mind, filling him with the cool, placid calm of Shinsouâs control.
âDenki,â he murmured, his voice quiet, staring into those blank golden eyes. âBreathe. Slowly.â
He could feel Denkiâs panic raging at the corners of his control, but his body responded to Shinsouâs command, his breaths slowing as the minutes ticked by, easing back from the brink of hyperventilation. His eyes had stopped darting around the room, instead staring directly at Shinsou, attentive, a blank slate waiting for his next instruction.
It was worth it, Shinsou decided. Whatever came next, it was worth it to see the fear gone from Denkiâs face.
When did he start caring so much about Denkiâs mental state? Longer ago than heâd like to admit, that much was for certain. Denki was one of the only people he felt comfortable around, felt like he could relax. Like he didnât have to be anticipating another attack every second of the day.
Denki was good. He was everything Shinsou had never admitted to himself that he wanted to be. Out of everyone in their class, Denki was good. Midoriya was too, but there was an edge to Midoriya that just wasnât there with Denki. It was like the sun itself had fallen out of the fucking sky, grown legs, and dyed its hair gold with the last of its rays.
He was getting off track. He needed to be focusing.
âHow does your chest feel?â Shinsou asked quietly. âAnswer me.â
It was unsettling to hear the expressionless tone in Denkiâs voice. The boy had a habit of emoting more than anyone Shinsou had ever known. To hear his voice flat, devoid of anything...Shinsou didnât like it.
âIt doesnât hurt anymore,â Denki reported.
Shinsou nodded, giving him another moment to catch his breath. The panic slid further into memory the longer they stood there, Denkiâs fingers still gripped in his shirt, and by the time he let his control fade from Denkiâs mind, there was no trace of the spiraling thoughts that had driven Denki to Shinsouâs door.
The process was always disorienting. That couldnât be helped. But Shinsou tried his best to withdraw gently, to make the transition as easy as possible for Denki. The boyâs eyebrows furrowed as he blinked a few times, settling back into himself. His eyes raised to Shinsouâs again, and a small smile tugged at his lips. This smile was different - usually, he beamed brightly for all the world to see.
This smile was just for Shinsou. And it was the most beautiful thing heâd ever seen.
âThank you.â
Shinsou shrugged, and the movement drew Denkiâs attention to where he still gripped Shinsouâs shirt. He dropped the fabric with a nervous chuckle, running his fingers through his mussed golden hair, disrupting the perfect lightning bolt that Shinsou had studied when no one watched him.
âHappy to help,â he murmured.
âI, uh. I didnât know if your quirk worked like that, but I couldnât - nothing else was working, and it was getting so loud,â Denki mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.
âHow do you feel now?â Shinsou asked, his own anxiety creeping up the back of his neck as he waited for the other shoe to drop.
âEverythingâs quiet again,â Denki peeked up at him, awe touching the corners of his golden eyes. âYouâre incredible.â
Shinsou didnât know how to respond to that. He hadnât even done anything remarkable. Heâd used his quirk on a classmate, something that heâd promised himself he would never do outside of training. Heâd taken Denkiâs mind and held him under and -
âWait. Whereâd you go just now?â
Shinsouâs thoughts jerked to a halt as Denki grabbed his chin, tilting his head down to meet those eyes again.
âThis is about what Monoma and those assholes said, isnât it?â
Shinsou couldnât quite breathe with Denkiâs fingers on his skin. He could feel the shimmer of electricity under his skin, the power that Denki could unleash at any moment. But he wasnât afraid. Not of Denki. Denki had never given him any reason to fear him.
âTheyâre far from the only ones,â he murmured, his adamâs apple bobbing as he swallowed.
âWell screw them,â Denki insisted, gesturing with his free hand as he spoke. Shinsou had to wonder if he was even capable of speaking without moving in some way.
Usually, it was his hands, dancing through the air as he chattered away. During presentations, it was his foot, tapping against the ground behind the podium. In combat, he was always moving, as if the electricity that filled him sent him into overdrive.
The Energizer Bunny itself wouldnât be able to keep up with Denki.
âIt doesnât get more heroic than using your quirk to help. Help someone out of a burning building, out of a panic attack, same thing,â Denki insisted.
âI donât think thatâs trueâŚâ
âTell that to me about fifteen minutes ago,â Denki huffed. âCurled up on my bedroom floor trying to convince myself to get up, trying to convince myself to breathe, trying to convince myself to do anything. I couldnât feel my hands, I couldnât speak, I couldnât -â He took a long breath through his nose. âLike it or not, today, you were my hero.â
Shinsou stared at him, his heart throwing itself against his ribs in an attempt to exit his body. Denki smiled again, and Shinsou felt his own fear beginning to ease. This wasnât a test. Denki had really come to him for help. Denki had believed he could help.
âSo, want to tell me why you still look terrified of me?â Denki laughed sheepishly, his fingers falling from Shinsouâs chin. He could feel his skin tingling where heâd touched him. âI know it can be kind of freaky -â
âNo.â Shinsou shut that idea down immediately. âNo, nothing like that. I justâŚâ Denki had trusted him. He could trust Denki in return. âIâm not...supposed to use my quirk. Outside of training. Not that I usually need to, but...â
âSays who?â Denkiâs eyebrows drew together. âEveryone uses their quirks all the time! Sero literally made a jump rope out of his tape yesterday.â
âNo oneâs ever expected Sero to turn villain at the drop of a hat,â Shinsou muttered, taking a few steps back, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and dropping his eyes back to the ground. He sat down on his bed, taking a long, slow breath of his own.
âOh shit, youâre - youâre really worried about this, arenât you?â He heard footsteps shuffle across his carpet before the bed dipped next to him, and the hairs on his right arm stood up, drawn to the electricity coursing through Denki. So close to him.
âShinsou.â
Shinsou shook his head, staring at the fraying threads in his carpet. It was easier to stare at those than look at Denki, as he finally understood why people feared Shinsou. Seeing Denki look at him that way just might wreck him completely.
âHitoshi. Look at me.â
Surprise snapped Shinsouâs eyes up from the ground, seeking Denkiâs curiously. No one in Class A had ever called him by his name before. The implied closeness spread through Shinsou, awakening a hope he didnât know heâd been shoving down. Denki held his gaze steadily, his lips pulled tight in the closest approximation of a frown that heâd ever seen on that handsome face.
âNo one who matters is going to be afraid of your quirk. You know that, right? Everyone in our class thinks itâs awesome that youâre so crazy powerful. We trust you,â Denki insisted softly. âIÂ trust you. I wouldnât have come here tonight if I didnât. Usually I just try and ride it out on my own, but I - I thought you could help, and maybe I shouldnât have asked, but -â
âIâm glad you did,â Shinsou promised before Denki could continue too far down that mental spiral. âIâm glad I could help you.â
Denkiâs eyes wandered his face, his expression softening. âHow could anyone think youâre going to be a villain?â he whispered, the words ringing so loudly in Shinsouâs ears that he may as well have shouted.
Even his parents understood where the fear came from, even if they outwardly maintained that they didnât agree. His entire life, everyone had understood where the fear came from. Everyone. There were those who thought his quirk was awesome, and were eager to list the different ways it could be used for villainy. There were those who ran from him anytime they saw him coming down the hallway. There were those who were nice enough, but always sat just far enough away, always were cautious never to answer a question heâd asked.
The spectrum ranged from outward aggression to quiet wariness. Heâd never been faced with...complete acceptance from one of his peers. One of his...friends?
Shinsou blinked, ducking his head so Denki couldnât see the way his eyes shimmered. âIf me not using my quirk out of training makes people more comfortable, I canât blame themâŚâ
âI can!â Denki huffed, a little spark of electricity dancing on his fingertips. âWait. Wait! Back up. Setting aside the fact that itâs bullshit that youâre treated differently from everyone else - you used your quirk on me even though you knew it could get you in trouble?â
Shinsou rubbed at the back of his neck, the tips of his ears flushing. Heâd hoped Denki had missed that.
âI couldnâtâŚâ He sighed, staring down at his fingers, laced together over his knees. When did his hands begin to shake? âYou needed help, and I couldnât...anyone else, I could have said no. Anyone else, I probably would have said no, but you...I couldnât say no to you.â
Denki tilted his head curiously; Shinsou could feel those eyes on him and he swallowed the nerves in his throat, trying to resist the urge to flee. This was his room. It would be childish to flee from his own room, wouldnât it?
âWhy me?â
Shinsou had been asking himself that for weeks. Why was Denki different? The idea of letting Denki suffer when he could do something to help physically hurt him. Heâd rather go toe-to-toe with Bakugou for a month straight than turn his back on Denki when he needed him.
Shinsou felt Denki shift on the bed next to him, turning to face him fully. Shinsou glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his heart pounding too loud in his chest. Dammit, was he going to have a panic attack now? He tried to go through the grounding exercises Aizawa had taught him.
Three things you can see.
Carpet. Mud tracked by the door. Denkiâs untied shoelace.
Two things you can hear.
Bakugou shouting at someone outside. Denkiâs breathing.
One thing you can feel.
Denkiâs fingers, tracing over the back of his hand, nudging between his own long, thin fingers. A spark of electricity kissing his skin. The bed shifting as Denki moves closer.
Denkiâs cheek resting on his shoulder.
Denki.
The ache in his chest loosening. His breathing beginning to even out.
Denki.
The soft gasp of Denkiâs breath as he turned to meet him. Denkiâs fingers tightening on his. The softness of Denkiâs hair as he curled his fingers through it.
âDenki.â
âHi-Hitoshi?â
His voice soothed the panic. The feeling of him, curling closer, gripping his hand like he thought he might slip away.
Shinsou had never felt so settled. So grounded.
Falling into Denki felt more natural than breathing.
Shinsou kissed Denki before he could talk himself out of it - before he was even fully aware he was doing it. The smaller boy shifted, climbing into his lap without a momentâs hesitation and meeting him with a soft moan. Shinsou welcomed him eagerly, touch sliding everywhere, memorizing the way Denkiâs spine arched when he traced it.
Denkiâs free hand - because his other still gripped Shinsouâs like he had no intention of ever letting go - tangled in his hair, unknotting the soft purple strands as he went. His fingers caught on a stubborn tangle and he pulled without intending to, drawing a broken moan out of Shinsou that had him tugging harder, pressing as close as he could.
Shinsou couldnât tell how long they sat there, exploring each other, breathing in each moan. He finally had to pull back when Denkiâs free hand slipped under his shirt, curling against his stomach. He didnât go far, resting his forehead against Denkiâs as he fought to catch his breath.
âDoes that explain it?â he asked breathlessly, drawn in by the laugh that swept through Denkiâs entire body.
âDoes that - does that explain it? That doesnât explain anything!â Denki chuckled fondly, giving Shinsouâs hand a gentle squeeze. âBut Iâm willing to forgive you if you kiss me like that forever. Because holy shit, you seriously should always be -â
Shinsou leaned in to kiss him quiet again, cherishing the way Denki melted into him, feeling the last shreds of his panic fading away. There would be time for talking later. A lot of time, if Shinsou had it his way. Because things didnât seem so scary when he had Denki Kaminari in his arms.
In this moment, it was hard to remember why heâd held himself at a distance in the first place.
tags: grief/mourning, past!eruri, levi and eren finding each other
Levi didnât know where he belonged. All he was left with was the ghosts of his past.
Eren had a life to chase down. He didnât deserve to sit here and fade away within these haunted walls.
---
Years after the war's end, Levi and Eren reconnect.
---
The nightmares came each night, right as he attempted to lay his head down and catch a few hours of sleep. It always felt like it needed to be only a few hours, even though the war had been done for years. He couldnât settle in one place long enough to feel...at ease.
Hange always teased him for it, singular functioning eye lighting up with unbridled care as they informed him that he would worry himself into an early grave.
It didnât feel like it would be early. Not anymore.
He already felt like he had lived several lifetimes. The Underground, the Scouts, the War...each time, life molded him into someone new, someone he had to be. Strong enough to survive. Strong enough to lead. Humanityâs strongest soldier - he had to be strong enough to bring his friends home.
He didnât have anyone he had to be now.
It was times like this that he really missed Erwin. Loss was nothing new to his life, but in a lot of ways, he still felt like heâd failed Erwin. Time and again, heâd wondered if heâd made the wrong choice with the serum. But Erwin had trusted him to make the right choice. So he had to have faith. Not like there was anything to be done about it now anyway.
Erwin had always been good at pointing him in the right direction. Whether he was dragging him out of the Underground or keeping him on his feet after a mission, Levi always knew he could turn to Erwin.
But that wasnât what he missed most.
He missed being around Erwin. He missed the way Erwin looked at him like he was worth something. He missed the brief moments when they could be alone, desperate hands grasping for something to hold on to, something to remind them they werenât alone. Erwin had chuckled at the fact that Levi always tasted like tea. And in the morning, he would always ensure he had a fresh cup.
But Erwin had been dead for years. And Levi had to make his own damn tea now.
He shoved his covers back, letting his bare feet hit the floor as his shoulders hunched. He couldnât just stay here stewing. Heâd make some tea and maybe finally take some of those medicines Hange had left to help with his sleep.
He probably should have moved out of the Scout headquarters when the regiment disbanded. But a few people stuck around, and honestly, he didnât know where else heâd go. There was a whole world out there to explore, but standing in the majesty of it all made Levi feel small in a way he never had before. He wouldnât even know where to start.
So he stayed - in these same halls filled with the same ghosts.
He shoved a shirt on before he padded to the door, running a hand through his mussed hair, trying to coax it into some semblance of organization. His undercut was growing out - he really should just bite the bullet and ask Hangeâs help. Or Moblit - he would probably be a better choice than his partner. Levi would trust Hange with his life, but with a straight razor at the back of his neck?
Levi listened to the wooden stairs creak under his feet, sending the ghosts skittering back to their corners. Heâd ask Moblit tomorrow. If he got around to it. Not like he really had much else to fill his days.
Levi passed the second-story landing and paused, looking out the window over the moonlit courtyard. Had he just seen a flash of movement in the shadows? He couldnât have - no one was ever out this time of night. But there it was again, the swinging of a stall closing, a horse being tucked away for the night before a young man with broad shoulders stepped into the lantern light of the courtyard.
Levi let out a long breath through his nose. It had been almost a year since heâd seen him, but he would know the cadence of his walk with his eyes closed.
Eren.
Levi watched him move, hesitating near the edge of the lanternâs glow. His face caught the dim lighting, and Levi swallowed the tightness that had settled in his throat, turning away from the window, any thoughts of tea forgotten.
He hadnât expected him to return. Heâd never been gone this long.
In the years after the War, Eren made the former headquarters his home too - at least while he was around. Heâd adapted to the world outside the walls far better than Levi, often going on trips with Armin and Mikasa to explore. This time, heâd gone alone, and heâd been gone eleven-and-a-half months. Not that Levi had been counting.
He laid in bed that night, sleep eluding him as he listened to the gentle creaking of the walls around him. He heard footsteps in the hallway as the sun started to creep over the horizon, and a door closing two rooms down. Erenâs room. So at least he was staying the night.
When the sun had fully settled in the morning sky, Levi pulled himself out of bed again. He moved silently past Erenâs room to the stairs, retracing his steps from the previous night but finally making it down to the kitchen. He chewed his bottom lip with his teeth as he made a cup of tea. What had brought Eren back this time? He made it clear every time he returned - Mikasa or Armin dragged him back; according to Eren, heâd spend all of his time beyond the walls. Too long living caged behind them. No other reason to come back. But there was no Mikasa or Armin to drag him back this time, and yet...and yet, heâd returned.
Levi made a second cup. Just in case the brat wanted it.
He left it on the kitchen counter before he took his own tea and headed out the backdoor, making his way across the vast, neatly-kept lawn toward the edge of the forest. He set his cup down on the small outdoor table heâd set up beside his chair, his heart heavy as he turned to face the stones.
Every scout theyâd lost laid here, at least in memory. For most of them, the headstones were only placeholders, no body able to be reclaimed. But they had a place all the same, stone salvaged from the walls theyâd fought so hard to be free of.
And then, there was the small grove where Levi had set up his chair. The four stones sat two apart, the patches heâd cut from their jackets set into small plaques on each headstone. Petraâs still lay empty, the patch pressed into the hand of a grieving recruit, given away under the guise of belonging to the friend heâd lost - his first of many such losses. Petra would have understood. Sheâd always been the kindest of them all.
And then, one stone sat apart from the others, stretching taller, the space in front of the stone wider and longer to accommodate the body that lay beneath. Levi cleared his throat, pulling his gloves on before he knelt, brushing the leaves from the top of the stone. The recent winds had kicked dirt into the grooves cut into the surface of the stone, and Levi took his time clearing each clogged letter.
Erwin Smith
13th Commander, Survey Corps
Itâs us who gives meaning to our comradesâ lives.
Levi took his time, cleaning Erwinâs stone to his satisfaction before he moved on to his squad, to Petra, to Eld, to Gunther and Oluo. They had a caretaker for the rest of the graveyard, ensuring no scoutâs memory was forgotten. But this area was Leviâs. This area, only he was allowed to manage.
Only when each stone was pristine once again did he let himself sit. He slowly pulled his gloves off, laying them to the side before he picked up his cup. He let his eyes drift closed, listening to the whisper of the wind through the trees as the morning sun danced across his face. In moments like this, he could almost feel them with him again. His squad. The first time since he was a child that he felt like he belonged somewhere - with someone.
And now...now, he didnât know where he belonged. All he was left with was the ghosts of his past.
And Hange and Moblit. Hange would never let him forget their presence, and he was honestly grateful for it.
And Eren.
He wasnât sure how long he was sitting there, letting the nature surrounding him ease the tightness from his chest, when he felt him.
He could feel Eren approach even before he could hear him, but the younger man didnât say anything, and Levi let his eyes stay closed for a few moments longer. He could hear Erenâs breathing - strong, steady. Reassuring. Eren was so full of life, even after everything theyâd been through. Even after Levi thought heâd lost him for good.
But Eren found his way back. He always did, in the end.
The chair to Leviâs right creaked as Eren folded his long limbs into it. Levi couldnât help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Hange usually gave him a wide berth when he was having his morning tea, their chair staying unused. It had been years since anyone sat with him.
âThe stones turned out nice.â
Leviâs eyes opened slowly, his gaze casting to the side to finally allow himself to look at Eren. He sat with his legs crossed casually, looking at home in the chair as if it had always belonged to him. In his hands, he held the cup of tea Levi had prepared for him, and something in the walled-up fortress of Leviâs heart began to crumble.
âI like how you set the plaques in,â Eren continued softly. âThose are their actual patches, arenât they?â
Levi nodded, taking another sip of his tea. He saw Erenâs eyes lingering on Petraâs stone, could see the flicker of guilt in those emerald eyes. Out of the scouts in Leviâs squad, Eren had been closest with Petra. Heâd been the last one to see her before she died.
âWhen did you get in?â Levi asked, seized by an almost-desperate need to distract the boy - no, the man. Eren hadnât been a boy for a long time.
Eren blinked twice as he pulled himself back from his thoughts, giving Levi a soft, grateful smile. âEarly this morning.â
âAnd how long are you staying?â
It was an understandable question. It was only natural for Levi to want to know how long someone would be sticking around the old headquarters. While Hange technically still out-ranked him, they left the management of the base to him. Not that there was much to manage. The Scouts didnât exist anymore.
There was nothing unusual in him asking that question. And it certainly didnât hint at a hidden desire to keep Eren around longer. But he had to admit, something about having Eren sitting next to him started to thaw the deepest parts of Leviâs soul.
He was like a fucking furnace.
Eren didnât answer at first, taking a long drink of the tea before he set his cup aside. His gaze returned to the stones, and Levi saw the tired, weary expression lingering at the corners of his face. Theyâd never really talked about it, but Levi had to figure that Eren was just as fucked up about it all as he was.
âI think Iâm back for good this time,â he said at last, his voice barely louder than the whispering winds around them.
Levi couldnât hide the surprise as he looked up at Eren over his teacup, the last sip chilling in his cup as he forgot it completely.
He managed to bite back the unasked why. Eren had always wanted to see the world. Eren had a life to chase down outside the walls. He didnât deserve to sit here and fade away within these haunted walls.
âHad enough of the wide wide world?â
Eren chuckled, running his hands through his hair - it had gotten longer. Levi liked it longer, even if watching him tousle it made his fingers itch. His hair looked so damn soft.
âYeah, at least for now. Arminâs got his place set up with Annie on the coast, Mikasaâs abroad, and...traveling by myself just doesnât feel the same. It wasâŚâ Eren rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating for a moment before he continued. âLonely.â
Levi blinked; he should have expected that someone so vibrant, so full of life, would have trouble being alone. But the former headquarters wasnât exactly the most exciting place to live. Levi could go an entire day without talking to another person if he tried just a little bit.
âI hope you donât find it too isolating here,â he murmured.
Eren looked at him then, those piercing eyes seeing right through him, hitting the heart of his question without him even having to ask it. âHow could it be isolating when youâre here?â
Levi snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to hide the way that question made him warm inside. He liked the idea that Eren might consider him worthwhile company.
And yet, he couldnât help but make sure Eren knew what he was getting into.
âYes, because Iâm such enthralling company.â
Eren didnât laugh - Eren didnât even appear like the statement was that funny to him. He leaned forward a little, his hands resting on his knees, those eyes never lowering from Leviâs, holding his gaze intensely. Levi actually squirmed a little - he wasnât used to someone looking at him for this long.
âI missed you, Levi.â
Whatever he had expected, it certainly wasnât that. That damn brat. Always wore his heart on his sleeve. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He could be honest, tell Eren heâd missed him, tell him that heâd looked out to the stables each morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eren returning. He could tell him he wanted him to stay.
But he couldnât hold Eren back. Heâd spent his whole damn life wanting to get beyond those walls; he couldnât lock him up behind them again. If Eren was going to stay, he had to choose it on his own.
Levi had no claim on Eren, no right to hold the boy back.
Boy wasnât right, and he knew it. Heâd known Eren for years, watched him grow into a passionate, dedicated young man. But there was a wildness in Eren - the same that ran through Leviâs veins once upon a time. When Eren was around, he could almost feel it again.
Erwin had always told him he needed to open himself up to people. He couldnât spend the rest of his life isolating himself from people. If it werenât for Hange, he would have disappeared completely after the war. But Hange never gave up on him, just like Erwin hadnât. And now, maybe he could finally make it worth it.
As he and Eren sat there, talking as the breeze stirred the trees around them, Levi realized that maybe, just maybe...he was feeling at ease.
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tags: serial killer enji todoroki, blood and torture, death, character death, fire torture, enji todoroki is a terrible father
His motherâs ring felt scalding against his skin.
Promise me, Touya. Promise me you will never become your father.
---
Touya Todoroki had promised himself, from a young age, that he would never become his father. But when his father, escaped serial killer Enji Todoroki, takes the one thing Touya had ever dared have for himself, Touya realizes just how similar they might be.
Takes place separate from saved from our misery but same Serial Killer!Enji premise.
---
Touya slipped into the dockyard at the cover of night, a vice grip tightening around his lungs with each step he took. Heâd warned him. Heâd warned him. His father was not someone to be trifled with. Any promise, any bargain he would offer, came with strings. The type of strings that would wrap around your throat and string you up from the nearest tree - and then he would light you on fire for good measure, just to be an asshole.
And now he had Keigo.
Touya didnât know how this had gone so wrong. Keigo hadnât even told him that he was looking into his father again. Touya would have warned him away from it instantly - which, now that he thought about it, was probably why Keigo kept it from him. Keigo had always been insistent that he needed to stop living with the sword of his father dangling over his head, but he didnât understand! He didnât understand that it was safer to live with that sword, safer to spend every day of the rest of his life checking over his shoulder at every turn, than to try to face the man head on.
He would always outsmart them. He would always win.
He knew where his father would be. Heâd brought Touya to these docks as a kid, to the last warehouse on the left. It was where his father stored his victims.
It had been a slow realization, when he was a child. His mother had given him the first clue - when heâd crawled in her lap at five years old, telling her how he wanted to be just like his father. Sheâd burst into tears, clinging him to her chest and making him promise he would never become his father. She disappeared less than a year later; Touya wouldnât know until he was much older that his father had overheard him that night. He said their mother left them, chose to vanish into the night. Touya knew better now.
Heâd never hurt them. But with the amount of time he spent away from home, Touya essentially had to raise his three younger siblings after his mother left. But he never doubted his father, back then. His dad was trying to do this all on his own - he did whatever he had to keep them happy and safe.
The day he became a teenager, his father took him aside - told him he was finally old enough to learn what his father did on his nights away from home. He took him to the docks, showed him his warehouse, showed him his collection. Trinkets, stolen from women that heâd killed and buried beneath the floors of the warehouse. A lock of hair here, a scrap of fabric torn from a dress. Touya still remembered the tears stinging his eyes when he spotted his motherâs wedding ring sitting among the collection. His father hit him for crying.
She betrayed us, Touya. Betrayed me. Anyone who betrays me deserves the justice I bring to them.
Touya didnât see any justice in that dimly-lit warehouse. That was the first moment heâd truly feared his father. Heâd tried to flee, stumbling into a dark corner of the room as far away from his motherâs ring as he could get, and thatâs when he heard the dripping.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
His nose wrinkled as an acrid scent overtook him. He whipped around to bolt, running straight into a pale, naked form dangling in the air in front of him. A brunette woman, strung up by her ankles, swung from a beam overhead. Blood dripped down her slackened face from the massive wound on her throat, mixing into her long, curly hair as it pooled on the concrete.
Touya screamed, shoving himself away from the dead woman and casting around for something, anything to use to defend himself. His father caught him before he could make it more than a few steps. Heâd hit him again, for making so much noise, and then heâd dragged him home, making him swear that he would tell no one what heâd seen. If he did...if he did, the woman heâd seen would look good compared to what his father would do to him.
Touya hadnât celebrated his birthday since. But he held his tongue - when his father realized his control was slipping, he would threaten his siblings. If he told anyone what heâd seen, it would be Fuyumi who paid for it. Or Natsuo. Or Shoto - perfect little Shoto who had already been through so much. Who had managed to get a burn across the left side of his face - Touya hadnât been home the night Shoto got hurt, and his brother was silent about what had happened. But Touya knew. Touya knew it was their father, and he realized it didnât matter if he kept his silence or not. They werenât safe. His siblings werenât safe, no matter what.
It took six months. Six months for his father to slip up. Six months for his father to relax in his control and overlook something. Six months to trust his son. And that spelled his downfall.
When Enji left that night, Touya sprung into action. Heâd bundled his siblings up in their winter coats and walked them the four miles to the police station. Heâd had to carry Shoto most of the way, and Natsuo had given Fuyumi a piggy-back ride the second leg, but they made it all the same.
The police had believed their story. The determined word of a half-frozen teenager clinging to his three smaller siblings was easy to believe - even when it was directed against one of the most prominent businessmen in town. Theyâd arrested Enji Todoroki that night, and though Touya hadnât followed the details of their investigation, he did know that theyâd managed to identify most of his victims, closing dozens of unsolved disappearances from the last twenty years. Digging their remains from the concrete under the warehouse. Giving their families whatever solace they could.
Heâd tried to shield his siblings from the worst of it, but he could only do so much before they were all split up. With no family left to speak of, theyâd been sent to different homes, and even though Touya desperately tried to find them, heâd had no luck, year after year. Eventually, heâd had to give up, focus on keeping his feet under him. Trying to make something of himself, something that his father couldnât touch.
And then heâd met Keigo. And Keigo never judged him, taking the time to get to know him and slowly break down those walls. Touya had tried to keep him at armsâ length, tried to stop himself from getting attached. He knew better. He knew that getting attached only gave the world something to hurt you with.
But then his father escaped from prison, and everything changed. And Keigo learned the truth and still didnât leave. And Touya let himself believe that he could have something, one little ray of light that his father couldnât touch.
He should have known better.
Heâd gotten the message from his father that morning. On his personal cell phone, because of course his father would have had his phone number. He could never keep anything from him. How long had he been watching him, watching them? Just biding his time and waiting for the perfect moment to let Touya know that he would never be free.
He just had to hope he wasnât too late.
Touya clambered up the shipping containers as quietly as he could, making his way toward the last warehouse on the left. The windows had been broken years ago by teenagers, eager to take some sort of honorable revenge on the serial killer whoâd lurked there. Touya slipped into the warehouse through one of those broken panes, finding his footing easily on the metal catwalk.
A lone light glowed at the far end of the warehouse, and he could hear an eerie creaking drifting across the concrete floors. Touyaâs stomach twisted as he moved forward as quickly as he could without alerting anyone to his presence.
He caught sight of his father first, a large hulking figure standing with his back to Touya at the far end of the warehouse. The mantle of flame that usually enshrouded him was dormant for the moment, which served to make him even more unsettling.
And then he moved.
As he stepped to the side, Touyaâs heart stopped. Keigo hung by his wrists, the chain looped over one of the catwalkâs support beams. He was still wearing the shirt heâd been wearing when he left their apartment that morning, but it was barely recognizable, laying tattered on his shoulders. Gashes criss-crossed his chest, blood trailing over the sculpted abs Touya so often traced with his tongue. Feathers littered the floor, broken and plucked from his wings, which lay at awkward angles from his back - probably dislocated, if not worse. His head hung, blond hair mixing with blood on a mottled face, but he could see his lips moving, mumbling a response to something Enji had said. He was still alive. Now Touya just had to get him out of here.
He could melt through the chains. He just didnât know how well Keigo could catch himself if he did it from above. The cleanest way to do it would be to deal with his father first - how quickly could he incapacitate him before his father started fighting back?
âOh, but wait - I think we have a guest.â
Enji turned, piercing blue eyes meeting his sonâs on the catwalk above them. Touya froze, a chill running down his spine. He should have known. He could never get the jump on his father, no matter how hard he tried.
âCome on down here, Touya.â
He couldnât light the warehouse up, not with Keigo still chained to the catwalk. Instead, he dropped lightly onto the concrete floor below him, facing his father with squared shoulders. Golden eyes raised from the ground, widening with panic when Keigo focused through the swelling on his face.
âTouya, no!â His voice broke, his wrists jangling the chains above him. âNo, get out of here, you canât - !â
Enji cut him off, pulling one of the remaining feathers out of Keigoâs wings and incinerating it without a thought. Keigo whimpered, biting on his lip to try to silence the cry, and Touya took a step forward.
âLet him go.â
Enji turned, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face. He hadnât been scarred when heâd gone into prison - though, Touya supposed, prison wouldnât likely be kind to a man with his fatherâs personality.
âMy boy!â Enji boomed, turning fully from Keigo, his hostage forgotten. âSo glad you decided to join us. I was just telling your pet here that it was only a matter of time until you arrived to save him.â
Touya took another step toward them, his fingers tensing into fists at his sides, blue flame licking at his skin. His fatherâs eyes flicked down to his sonâs hands before his grin grew.
âNow now, Touya. Thereâs no need for that. Iâm more than willing to let Keigo go.â
âThen do it,â Touya bit out, watching the blood slowly trickling down Keigoâs chest.
Enji glanced over at Keigo, humming thoughtfully, and Touya recognized the look that took over his fatherâs face. Enji never did anything without a reason. His victims had been people who wronged him, people who owed him something - people who had embarrassed him. Touya could feel the weight of his motherâs wedding ring where it hung against his chest, the chain heating along with his skin - a warning. His father certainly was willing to let Keigo go, but what did he want in return?
Touya probably should have been more concerned by his determination to give his father whatever he wanted. He would do anything, as long as it meant Keigo was safe.
Enji chuckled, the sound absolutely humorless as it echoed through the empty warehouse. âWell, son. I canât do it without you.â
Touyaâs jaw clenched, but all it took to break him was a glance at Keigo, his bronzed skin paler than it should have ever been. Keigoâs eyes were locked on him, wide with desperation as he shook his head. Touya watched those eyes flutter as Keigoâs vision spun, watched the lazy path the blood took across his face.
âTouyaâŚâ Keigo breathed, his usual strength gone from his voice. âTouya, no. Please, donât listen to him, donât -â
âQuiet,â Enji said sharply, flames flaring to life on his face, a warning clear in the action. âIâm talking to my son.â
Touya took another step forward before his fatherâs patience could wear too thin. He needed to get Keigo out of here. Everything else was a distraction.
âWhat do you want me to do?â he asked, keeping the shake out of his voice. He couldnât be sure if his voice was shaking from anger, or from fear - with his father, he could never be certain.
Enjiâs grin sharpened, his eyes narrowing very slightly. Touya had learned at a young age how to measure his fatherâs moods - how to read the slightest shifts in his energy. He had been hyper-aware since the age of three - he could never let his guard down around his father. He couldnât slip. If he slipped, someone else would pay the price.
He stood with his shoulders squared, refusing to shy away from the danger he saw in his fatherâs eyes. He would not fail Keigo the way he failed his mother.
âWell, thatâs simple,â Enji murmured, smiling with something almost akin to warmth. âTake your place at my side, and Iâll let him go.â
Touya froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins, and his father seemed to revel in the shock on his face. He turned back to Keigo, running a rough, flaming hand over the raw skin of one of his wings. Keigo cried out, the sound hitting Touya deep in his soul.
âNow weâll see how much my son truly loves you,â Enji muttered, his voice dark with the danger that Touya had dreaded. His father was serious. There was no doubt in Touyaâs mind that he would kill Keigo in a heartbeat if Touya didnât agree to join him.
But heâd spent his entire life trying not to become his father. Sometimes, late at night, he would think he could feel his fatherâs rage, his fatherâs darkness, curling inside him. Then Keigo would roll over, take him into his arms, and show him exactly why he couldnât become his father. Listening to Keigoâs breathing in the dark, Touya made the promise to himself, night after night, that he would not fall to it. He would not let his father dictate his life. He would not let himself become his father.
Enji was always convinced heâd return, always convinced Touya was destined to follow in his footsteps. And now, he had all but ensured it. He took the one thing that Touya had always managed to keep out of his reach.
âUnchain him first.â
Keigo shook his head fiercely, fighting against the chains as Enji approached him, energy seeming to flood into his limbs. Or was it desperation driving him forward?
âNo! Touya, no, you canât! Please, donât - donât do this! Iâm not worth -â
Enji melted the chains in a quick blast of fire, dropping Keigo unceremoniously to the floor. He cried out as he fell into a heap on the concrete; Touya moved without thinking, rushing to his side. He dropped to his knees, ripping his hoodie off to begin trying to stem the flowing blood. Keigo grabbed at his shirt, his eyes desperate and pleading.
âDonât do this. You canât do this, donât throw your life away for me. Please, please! Touya, I love you, please -â
Touya ducked his head to brush a kiss against his lips, clinging to his last chance at happiness. His last chance to have the life he wanted. But he couldnât keep it. Because he had never deserved it.
He should have known. He was the son of a monster. He didnât deserve a chance at happiness. Everyone could see it - everyone but him. And Keigo. Keigo had never seen the darkness lurking inside him. He was about to show him - the faith that Keigo had in him was misplaced. He had never deserved Keigo.
âI love you,â Touya whispered, resting Keigoâs hand over the hoodie pressed to his chest. âKeep this here. Help will come soon.â
âTouya,â Keigoâs voice broke, bloody fingers trying desperately to grip Touya's hand. âPlease. Please, not for me. This isnât you. This isnât you, Touya.â When Touya pulled his hand away, Keigo let out a choked cry. âNo! Touya, no, donât do this!â
Touya stood slowly, every fiber of his being urging him to go back to Keigo, wrap him in his arms, take him somewhere far away from here. But he couldnât do that. He knew he couldnât do that. The only way to save Keigo was to embrace his destiny.
Enji grinned, an obscene sort of glee flickering through the flames on his face. âThatâs my boy,â he held his arms open wide, clapping them against Touyaâs shoulders. âWeâll call an ambulance for him once weâre safely away.â
Touya was going to be sick. His father had finally made him who he always knew heâd be. He let his father grip his shoulder, turn him heavily toward the door, his deep voice rumbling about some plan or another.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking at Keigo one last time while he still could. While he was still someone worthy of Keigoâs attention - someone Keigo could love. Keigoâs eyes were locked on him, tears mixing with the blood on his face. His lips were still moving, though heâd lost the energy to give his words volume.
I love you. Please. Please donât leave me.
Touya leaving wasnât what Keigo should have been worrying about.
All at once, Touyaâs fist wreathed in blue flames, slamming into his father from behind, sinking deep into his back before his father could react. Enjiâs body swelled into an inferno, his own flames surging to attempt to fight Touya off, to stop the inevitable heâd fought so hard to bring about. Touya could feel his fatherâs flames rending his skin, but he couldnât stop now. Touya poured every last bit of his flame into his father, burning him from the inside out, listening as the man finally let out a tortured scream, his body glowing with the internal heat of Touyaâs flames.
He finally let his father fall, watching as the mountain of a man sank onto his knees, his fingers scrabbling at his own chest like he could rip Touyaâs fire out of him. Touya knelt down in front of him, his face impassive as he watched his father struggle.
Enji stretched out a hand for him; Touya smoothly leaned back, out of his fatherâs reach. Enji dropped onto his hands and knees, coughing blood onto the concrete floor below him. Touya leaned down, watching to catch each wheezing breath.
âI will never be you. And you will never hurt anyone ever again.â
Enjiâs bloodstained lips curved into a smile, the flames flickering out around him, making him look smaller somehow. His hand fell heavily to the concrete as he began to slump, the fight going out of him.
âMy boyâŚ.â he said faintly, another cough wracking his frame and splattering blood across Touyaâs face. âYou are my son. You are exactly like me.â
Touya watched his father go still, staring at him for a moment longer than necessary. He had to be certain. He had to know his father was dead.
His father may have forced his hand, but when the moment came, Touya didnât hesitate. Heâd always thought, when the moment inevitably came, he would at least hesitate. But heâd killed his father without a momentâs hesitation. What kind of person did that? What kind of monster did that?
âTouyaâŚâ
Keigoâs voice was faint, and it re-centered Touyaâs world. His father didnât matter. Touya surged to his feet, hurrying over and sweeping Keigo up in his arms. Keigo cried out with the movement, but Touya didnât have time to be gentle. He needed to get Keigo to a hospital. That was what mattered. Keigo could tell him to leave once he was safe.
âIâve got you,â he promised softly, unable to look Keigo in the eye.
When Keigoâs arms wrapped around Touyaâs neck, Touya thought he might shatter apart completely. He hid his battered face against Touyaâs shoulder, clinging to him like he still feared he might disappear.
âYou arenât him,â Keigo whispered insistently, his lips moving against Touyaâs throat. âYou saved me. You saved me. I love you. You are nothing like him.â
Touya wished he could believe that. Touya wished he could believe Keigo meant what he said. But heâd just shown himself to be exactly the same as his father. Heâd murdered without hesitation, spilling blood and burned flesh over the floor of the same warehouse.
His motherâs ring felt scalding against his skin.
Promise me, Touya. Promise me you will never become your father.
Heâd failed his motherâs memory and granted his fatherâs dying wish in one night. It was only a matter of time before Keigo realized exactly who he was.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: ĺăŽăăźăăźă˘ăŤăă㢠| Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Dabi/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Touya
Characters: Todoroki Touya, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi (My Hero Academia)
Additional Tags: My First AO3 Post, i just love them so much, brief mention of Enji Todoroki being a terrible father
Summary:
âWhat did you think coming here would get you?â Dabi snarled. âYou think Iâm going to go toe-to-toe with Shigaraki for you? That canât be it - you wouldnât be that big of an idiot.â
No, Hawks thought. But that doesnât make me any less of an idiot.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Erwin Smith/Eren Yeager
Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Eren Yeager, Jean Kirstein
Additional Tags: Daddy Kink, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I Don't Even Know, i might continue this but no promises, eren yaeger being everyone's favorite idiot, he is down so bad, and Levi and Erwin can't believe their luck, eren is horny and his brain stops working
Summary:
Any member of the Survey Corps could tell you that Eren Yaeger had a thing for daddies.
There was probably something to that, if you looked deep inside his mind. He talked about his own father a lot in the early days, about how the man had disappeared shortly before Wall Maria fell, and how heâd had his own secrets sheltered away in the basement of their house in Shiganshina.
But as heâd gotten older, as theyâd progressed through the Cadet Corps, it became quite clear to the other members of his circle that Eren had a thing for daddies. Which only got worse the second they joined the Survey Corps. It didnât take long at all for the other scouts to notice how Erenâs eyes lingered on Commander Erwin just a moment too long.
-
Eren can't control his mouth. Erwin and Levi don't consider this a problem.