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spidehpig · 1 day

Text

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap.

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought.

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive.

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival.

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior.

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now.

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm.

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it.

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology.

Ghost decides that he hates her for it.

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman.

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top.

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs.

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick.

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini.

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk.

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face.

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs.

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock.

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp.

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him.

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep.

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment.

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.”

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost.

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest. Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

#cod #ghoap drabble #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x you #soap x you #ghoap x you #ghoap #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #my fic

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tayytayy12 · 1 day

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Flashback when you met me | OP81 x singer!Reader

Summary | The lead up and the result of Oscar and Reader meeting for the first time.

Warnings | Past relationship mentioned, swearing

Notes - Reader and Lando are childhood best friends, Oscar’s still in F2 at this time

FaceClaim - SabrinaCarpenter

Oscar x Nonsense series (you don’t have to read any of these to understand this, it’s just works with Oscar and the same love interest if you’d like to read them.)

—————

Yourusername

Liked by - LandoNorris, GracieAbrams and 2,826,022 | posted November 26th

Yourusername - Meeting you and singing and dancing with you for the past year on tour is a core memory I’ll carry with me always, and I can’t believe it’s over already. Even though most of the songs that I sung in this tour I can no longer relate to, I’m happy that when I look back in them I won’t be reminded of bad memories, but instead all the love you’ve shown me. Thank you for making my dreams come true, and thank you for all the extra love and care you’ve shown me these past weeks. I love you, I’ll see you soon 💕

View all comments

User1 - I CANT BELIEVE TOURS OVER ALRDY OMFG

LandoNorris - Mate we’ve established this, don’t cry over weirdo little boys, you deserve better.

Yourusername - He complimented me someone get a picture

LandoNorris - I take it back.

User2 - I love their friendship omfg

User3 - Forever in denial that I didn’t get any tickets 🫢

User4 -The pic of her crying is so real

User5 - I HATE Y/EX/N

User6 - FR, LIKE HOW CAN YOU CHEAT ON Y/N Y/L/N

User7 -The captions so cuteee 😭💕

User8 - ILY

User9 - Why is she crying?

User10 - The song she was singing, you belong with me, was about her ex and a couple weeks ago photos leaked of him cheating on her with some girl multiple times and he came out and said that he didn’t care and that he’d do it again because he’s a asshole, but when she had to sing the sings that were about him on tour she probably got a bit emotional.

User11 - She’s going MIA for ages now I can feel it

LandoNorris

Liked by - Yourusername, Lilymhe and 1,005,362 others | posted December 14th

Tagged | @/Yourusername

LandoNorris - The duo you all missed is reunited cause I’m dragging this lazy, sad bitch out of bed to be my plus one to the FIA Christmas party tonight 🥳

View all comments

Yourusername - I hate you.

LandoNorris - You wasn’t saying that when you was laughing your ass off ur bed 🤨

Yourusername - Shut up

User12 - SHES BEEN MIA FOR THREE WEEKS

User13 - Poor Y/n 😭

User14 - Lando always delivers with the funny Y/n pics

User15 - I need a friendship like theirs

Yourusername - I’m telling your mum that you dragged me out of bed by my ankles

LandoNorris - Pls don’t she loves you more than me

Yourusername - I’m telling Oliver too

LandoNorris- YOULL HAVE FUN I PROMISE

Yourusername

Liked by - LandoNorris, OscarPiastri and 1,435,028 others | posted December 15th

Yourusername - I hate it when he’s right, but yes I had fun (a lot more than I thought I would and I’ve made a new discovery send help.) ft. The pic I took of Lando’s face when I told him the tea.

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User16 - Y/n Wdym you’ve made a new discovery I’m scared

Yourusername - GIRL ME TOO.

User17 - Y/N WHERE DID YOU GET THAT DRESS OMG

Yourusername - @/Lilymhe closet 🫢

Lilymhe - THEIF (you look hot so I’ll let it slide)

User18 - What happened for Lando to look shocked and happy at the same time IM INVESTED NOW

User19 - Y/ex/n is looking at this and weeping cause imagine losing Y/N. Y/L/N.

LandoNorris - I know something you don’t, I know something you’ll never know 🥳

Yourusername - SHUT UP OR ILL HURT YOU

LandoNorris - Aw ily too

User20 - LANDO TELL US

LandoNorris - I can’t sorry she just chased me around her house with a coat hanger threatening to hang me

User21 - LMAO

User22 - Y/n, it’s been nine months, GIVE US NEW MUSIC PLS

User23 - Don’t be scared Y/n, tell us the new discovery 🫠

Yourusername

Liked by - OscarPiastri, LandoNorris and 3,653,926 others | posted December 24th

Yourusername - Okay so here’s the deal; my brand new single ‘enchanted’ is out now, surprise !!! It was written and recorded a few nights ago and I had some help writing this in the form of my best friend Lando (who I dragged out of bed at three in the morning because I couldn’t think of a hook, and he came up with a great one so I did the right thing) and it might just happen to be about that new discovery I mentioned.

This is my Christmas present to you all, I love you, I hope you like the song 🤍💕

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User24 - OMG OMG OMG OMG

User25 - ‘Please don’t be in love with someone else’ Y/N WHO ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT GIRL??????

LandoNorris - Now my resume will say Lando Norris: Karting world champion, F2 runner up, F1 podium scorer, and hit song writer

Yourusername - aw you think the songs a hit

LandoNorris - Duh, ofc it will be. I wrote it…?

Yourusername - Ok.

User26 - ‘My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again’ GIRL YOURE DOWN BAD

Yourusername - GIRL IK

Celebrity.sightings

Liked by - User27 and 82,628 others | posted February 12th

Celebrity.sightings - Famous singers, Y/n Y/l/n (21) spotted out last night with Formula two racing driver Oscar Piastri (21), the two seemed quite happy and comfortable in each others company, apparently the two shared multiple kisses and were spotted out for dinner, all while trying (and failing) to evade paparazzi.

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User28 - IF THEY WAS TRYING TO AVOID PAPARAZZI WHY ARE YOU POSTING THE PICS

User29 - OMG DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THE VID OF THEM IN THE RESTAURANT???!??!?!

User30 - YES OMG WHEN HE KEPTS CALLING Y/N ‘MY LOVE’ EYGCHYECEHDEUNDEUJDEUDJRYH

User31 - THEYRE SO CUTE WHATTTT

User32 - SO THIS IS WHAT WAS HAPPENING DURING THE RADIO SILENCE AFTER SHE DROPPED ENCHANTED

User33 - Who is this vroom vroom man and how did he steal my girl 😩

User34 - Y/n’s fit eating as always tho

Yourusername

Liked by - OscarPiastri, LandoNorris and 1,636,827 others | posted February 13th

Tagged | @/OscarPiastri

Yourusername - We were gonna do a soft launch but when you’re followed by paparazzi everywhere you go, things don’t always go to plan. But anyway, I love you Oscar, and I’m thankful that lando dragged me out of bed to come to that party cause I met you 💕

View all comments

User35 - OMGOMG

User36 - THE BLONDE AND BRUNETTE THEORY IS ALWAYS TRUE

User37 - I wanted a soft launch man I hate the paparazzi

OscarPiastri - Same

Yourusername - Same

LandoNorris - I’m always the reason for all of your happiness

Yourusername - you’re not wrong tbh

OscarPiastri - I love you 🤍

Yourusername - I love you more 💕

OscarPiastri

Liked by - Yourusername, LoganSargeant and 473,728 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername

OscarPiastri - I was enchanted to meet you too, my love 🤍

View all comments

Yourusername - My god I love you so much

OscarPiastri - I love you so much more 🤍

———

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whismizxal · 18 hours

Text

who’s her man? pt 2 ln4

── in which y/n y/l/n soft launches her relationship and her fans are starting to figure out who it is.

── warning: fluff, secret relationship, love, kissing, probably some spelling and grammar mistakes, if there’s more warnings to be added, let me know.

f1 drivers. navigation. prt 1

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WHEN Y/N Y/L/N WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR OF THE ARRIVIALS IN MADRID AIRPORT she didn’t expect to see her boyfriend dressed in a black tracksuit with a large grin on his face.

she was quick to run up to him, drop her bags and hug him. the man held her tightly as he embraced her before pulling back and kissing her quickly and leaning his forehead against her’s.

“hi my love.” she said softly as she looked up at his eyes and stroked his cheek.

“hi gorgeous.” he responded back, his tone just has soft and endearing.

“thought we agreed you weren’t gonna pick me up, you need to rest.” y/n pointed out.

“you honestly think I wasn’t gonna pick up my girl from the airport after I haven’t seen her in two months? you’re crazy.” he said calmly as he held her, looking at her as if she hung the moon and the stars.

“you still need your rest love.” she told him whilst she ran her fingers through his hair.

“mhm, so come on then, let’s go rest.” he smiled, reluctantly pulling away and grabbing her luggage whilst his other hand intertwined with hers.

as they walked towards his car there’s a comfortable silence which is soon broken by him as he places the luggage in the car and opens the car door for her.

“how long can stay with me?” he asks, as he gets into the car.

“three months.” she sees happily, her smile only growing when she sees his reaction.

“yeah?” he says hopeful, his face filled with joy and love.

“yeah.” she confirms nodding her head as she leaned into kiss him which he accepted quickly. “you have me for three months.” she whispers against his lips with a soft smile.

“good.” he murmurs as he kisses her again, placing his hand on her cheek as she places her’s on the back of his head.

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landonorris made a story

yourusername replied to this story

my love, thank you 🤭

ofc, I can’t help but notice I am mentioned a lot though

it’s for you. pretty sure everyone’s gonna realise we’re dating soon

I love it. thank you gorgeous

🤍🤍🤍

────────────────────────────

yourusername

liked by landonorris, your bestfriend and 721,191,822 others

yourusername you guys already know so might as well show a few photos I’ve taken over the past two years of MY BOYFRIEND. happy anniversary love 🤍🤍

tagged; landonorris

view 10,292 comments

landonorris WHERE DID YOU GET THAT LAST PHOTO?

yourusername your mum. where else would I get it?

username not the first photo 💀

username she did him dirty with those last two photos

username DID YOU GUYS GET A DOG

username damn two years

username so happy for you guys!!

danielricciardo surprised you guys kept it a secret for so long

carlossainz55 send me that last photo

⤷ yourusername you got it 🫡

⤷ landonorris NO WHY

⤷ yourusername too late 🤍🤍 sending love

⤷ landonorris I hate you

⤷ yourusername I love you too pretty boy

⤷ landonorris love you more

⤷ carlossainz55 take this somewhere else so I can’t stop getting notifications of you two flirting.

last part, hope you guys liked it <3 also I feel like this is really cringe but idk 😭. also that spotify thing looks so bad so I might change it.

────────────────────────────

#✧ . * 🛩️ whismizxal’s blog!#✧ . * 🪿 whismizxal’s stories!#✧ . * 🎧 whismizxal’s driverlist!#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n

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winwintea · 21 hours

Text

secure that card! 28. burnt cookies

Chenle wanted you to start on something simple, like cookies. Baking wasn’t hard, you couldn’t set the kitchen on fire unless you forgot about the cookies, and he would be there to make sure that wasn’t going to happen.

Or so he thought.

“You can eat the dough right?” You asked him carefully scooping a bit of the dough up with your finger.

“Yes, but did you wash your hands?” Chenle carefully eyed your finger as it slowly made contact with your mouth.

“Of course I did!” You beam at him, and he can’t help but crack a smile. “Wait… this is so good… try some…”

He watches you as you once again dip your fingers into the leftover batch of dough, scooping up more from the bowl, and walked over to you in one swift motion. “What are y-?” He had little time to react however, before you promptly shoved the cookie dough into his mouth.

“Tastes sweet right?” You asked him, clearly unfazed.

Chenle’s cheeks were practically flushing red, “A little warning next time?”

The corners of your mouth lifted up with a smirk, “What? You’re perfectly fine with whatever we did last week, but you can’t handle a bit of this?”

“It’s not… Stop that…” He stammered out, unable to respond.

“Relax. I love teasing you. It’s so easy, you know that right?”

Although he was normally the one bullying his friends, it seems as he had flipped his switch when it came to you. (Recently though, it’d seemed as though he was the one being subject to jokes ever since you were introduced to the table) “Yeah… I guess… Alright…”

Chenle couldn’t practically believe that you two had gone from strangers to lovers in practically a couple of weeks, nor did he imagine you would ever reciprocate these feelings back. It seemed as if there had been many events in between that drew you two closer together. Call it fate, call it bad luck, but good things had certainly followed. Not that he didn’t feel guilty at least, knowing he had been the cause for probably half of your misery these few days.

“Thanks for taking my mind off of things, certainly been having a rough couple of weeks…” You gave him an endearing smile, once again eating another spoonful of cookie dough.

“Did you want to continue to be distracted, or talk about it?” Ever since you had arrived at his house, you two had not mentioned a single word about Haechan and his most recent relapse. Chenle had decided to give you time and space to talk about it when you wanted to, and instead allowed you to focus on the task of baking the cookies first. Now that the cookies were in the oven you two had a few minutes to spare while waiting for them to finish.

You thought to yourself for a couple of moments, before turning to look at him with a determined look on your face, “It’s okay, we can talk about it.”

Taking a seat, Chenle eagerly waited to hear what you had to say about the situation. He couldn’t help but feel curious as to what exactly happened.

“So almost 2 years ago, it was just me, Jaem, Yuqi, and Haechan.” You began, “And it was sort of awkward for me, since I’m younger than them. Yuqi’s the oldest so she kind of takes on a motherly figure sometimes towards us, and Jaem and Haechan are in the same grade.”

Chenle hadn’t expected you to launch into your friend group’s history, but was interested regardless.

You continued on, “But Haechan always somehow made us feel? Connected? He always bridged that gap between our ages. Probably since he acts so immature half the time, but it was so nice. Regardless, we actually used to go out partying all the time, Haechan and Yuqi especially. As you can see, we don’t really anymore.”

“Is that why you had an aversion to attending dejun’s party a couple of weeks ago?”

“Yeah, it mostly stems from the past issues. You see, Haechan got hooked on LSD at this time. At first, we didn’t think much on it. He casually used it, and it wasn’t very often, so we kind of just tolerated it?” Chenle nodded attentively as you carried on, “But eventually it got bad, like… really bad… I…”

He latched onto your hand, gripping it softly with his own palm, and looked to you for support. Chenle didn’t say it out loud, but his eyes seemed to say that you didn’t have to continue if you wanted to.

Determined to finish, you smiled at him and returned to your story, “He would go through… many episodes. It was the worst. Sometimes it would be fine, and he could be clean for, a couple of weeks, and sometimes… he’d go back to that shitty state once again. He’d go in and out of rehab multiple times… and his mother… We really liked his mom and she liked us, but she just… practically gave up on him. It was so… heartbreaking… Like how could you, ever just? I don’t know. I don’t understand? Your son?”

You had tears in your eyes at this point, and Chenle couldn’t bare it any longer, as he grabbed you and embraced you into a hug, his fingers stroking your hair slowly. “It’s okay… He got better right? Didn’t he?”

“He did… and we all helped him, Jaem especially. He helped him get into rehab, and stood by him most of the time. Really it was all in thanks to Jaemin that Haechan was able to get better. And he’s been clean for about a year and a half.” You stared deeply into his eyes, “And that’s why we rarely attend parties anymore.”

“And now? What happened now?”

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. I just found out that the supplier of the drugs was Ten.” He raised an eyebrow, but you hurriedly finished, “But before you jump to any conclusions, we confirmed that Ten had no clue he was selling Haechan any drugs. I need to ask Haechan myself, though.” You sighed, leaning more into his embrace, as he continued to play with your hair.

“Well I think you’re honestly really brave, Y/n.”

“Me? Brave? How so?”

“Well you’ve dealt with so much shit recently. With getting run over, to being stalked, to dealing with one of your closest friends relapsing, you’ve been through a lot. Honestly it’s so admirable, how much you’ve been able to deal with and still stay strong. I love you for that actually.” This time your face was flushing, instead of the other way around. And it didn’t help that Chenle had started placing small butterfly kisses on your forehead, but you were perfectly content with that anyways.

However you two were suddenly startled by a loud beep from the kitchen.

“Shit.”

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ zhong chenle is the owner of many cards. a black card? he owns that. he even has a stanford student id card. the one card he doesn’t own though? a green card. and if chenle plays his cards right, he just may be able to secure one by wooing you. or it could all fall through… who knows?

TAG LIST ▸ @marvelahsobx @lyvhie @odxrilove @jkslvsnella @aquaphoenixz @wonnieluv @acidwon @syatchy @sleepyvic @grassbutneo @chcnlcs @taeeflwrr @hibernatinghamster @jaeimjaemin @gukuwii @slayhaechan @yyangj3lly @seunghancore @clean-soap @bath1lda @lostinneocity @defzcl @ckline35 @multifandomania @meltinghershey @foxy-kitsune @jising-jisang-jisung @minkyuncutie @zuzu-the-simp @dojaejunging @leehanascent @nosungluv @sunflowerbebe07 @h-aecat @layuhsblog @fae-renjun @w3bqrl @hyuckies18 @wonbin-truther

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moonybug444 · 3 days

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back together, ig

| tw: dubcon, lowkey noncon?? reader tries to kick him off of her, emotional abuse, toxic relationship, connie’s your mean ex boyfriend stuck on you |

——————————————————————————————————

“i’ll be in and out baby,” no he won’t. “promise.”

you take the phone away from your ear and sit it on your bed like it’s gonna help your decision. i’ll be in and out baby. yeah fucking right. he says that all the time and then he tries to fuck you. well he does fuck you, but that's not the point.

you tap the speaker button and lay down in your bed. “whatddya even need this time, connie?”

“i left some shit over there. some uh—”

“—you don’t even know—”

“—you gonna let me finish, pretty?” when you pick up the smile in his voice you also pick up the way your eye twitches. like him to not take shit serious. you and connie have been broken up forever, so how he manages to sneak his way back into your bed over and over again is still unanswered.

truth is the break up was bad, so everytime you see his face it still hurts you. you can’t help it. you’ve told him that too. told him to just leave you alone and let you have some time yourself. time to let you heal.

you don’t know why you’d ever expect connie to give a fuck about any of that.

“i don’t wanna keep doing this connie,” your lips tug down, “do you really need something?”

“yeah.” you hear a car honk in the background when he says it. that asshole was already on his way.

“ok well,” you sigh, “bye.”

“alright, see ya in a minute pretty.”

______________________________________________

he appears at your doorstep less than 15 minutes later. he’s not even in your house for 5 minutes when he’s trying to fuck you.

“fuck baby,” he’s got you laid out all pretty on the couch in nothing but a filmsy tank top and some tinny tiny sleep shorts. your little hands go to push him away when he comes back down to kiss on you but he doesn’t even budge, just grabs them with one of his hands and brings them down to his hard-on.

he pulls away from your lips with a sigh and marvels from the look on your face. eyes droopy and crossed, drool seeping from your kiss swollen lips—he thinks it’s about the prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and smile. he loves that dumb fucked out look you get on your face. he likes how he gives that to you just from a few kisses.

“you good?”

“uh huh.” you breath in heavily and bring your hands up to his face, pouting slightly from the loss of contact.

his eyebrows raise in a teasing manner before he leans down and gives you one quick peck on the lips.

you’re muffling against his lips, trying to get away but also trying to get closer. grinding your hips into his and wrapping your arms firm around his head. your whining in his mouth, not sure if you guys should be doing this.

“shh, shh. i know baby. missed—missed you though.”

you don’t know how you always get yourself in these situations. no—you know exactly how. you’re still as crazy about connie as he is about you. and you hate to admit it. just the thought of that makes you want to cry. you do cry. he makes you feel like you’ll never get over him. you know that you won’t.

——————————————————————————————————

“why do you do this to me?” your bottom half is still draped over him when you push up to look him in the eye. he ignores you, taking a hand a running it on the side of your face before grabbing the remote. you continue.

“you don’t even get it connie! ‘m trying to get over you!…and—and you just—”

he sees the tears before they even come out. can tell your about to cry from the way your eyes shine and how your bottom lip pokes right out and shakes.

“aw baby,” he places a gentle hand on the back of your head and leans your face into his chest, “why do you wanna get over me so bad? i’m trying to win you back, y’know—”

you sit up immediately at that. win you back? that asshole ruined your whole perspective on love. he’s the reason you look at yourself differently. he’s the reason you’re constantly comparing yourself to everyone of his little friends. the ones that you, ‘don’t need to worry about.’ it almost makes you laugh.

“y-you cheated on me! you fucking—”

just like that his whole tone changes.

“don’t piss me off (name), watch your mouth.”

your scoff at him and try to push yourself up off his chest but he keeps you still with his hands firm on your ass.

��i want you to get out connie,” you say it while placing your hands on his chest, fingers softly playing with his hoodie drawstrings.

he doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even look at you when he gives you a bored, “no.”

you’re stunned, “what the fuck do you mean no! i said get out connie.”

he ignores you until you’re all in his face raising your voice at him. you’re trying to push yourself off his lap but he’s got a painful grip on your ass. he turns his head to you screaming at him and gives you one quick kiss on the cheek. “what’d i say about all that yelling, huh baby?”

he always does that shit. tries to play the sweet and gentle act with you, just to be a stupid asshole later.

there’s a beat of silence, “connie please get the fuck out—”

“—what do you want me out so fucking bad for? can you just fucking chill? i’m trying to watch a movie with you.” the nerve he has. it’s hard to just watch a movie with a guy who made you sick to your stomach for weeks. just with him getting here you feel yourself becoming violent.

“i have a boyfriend now.” your teeth grit when you spit it out trying to do anything to get him out, make him feel bad about himself. and all connie does is laugh. he doesn’t believe the lie anymore than you do.

“yeah? i’ll fucking kill him.” he looks you dead in the eye while he says it, before he moves his hand right to your pussy, shoving his fingers in your soaked panties to get a feel of his girl. he’s not joking. you know he’s not. it’s been more than a few times you’ve tried to peaceful move on from connie. let’s say that didn’t end well for you or the guys you were messing with. “your boyfriend know i’ve got you fucking dripping right now baby?”

you go to move his hand, “s-stop it, connie—”

“i know you miss me, alright?” he gives you. a big kiss on your forehead before making work to take your little shorts off. “quit fighting me.”

——————————————————————————————————

of course it was gonna end like this, it always does. connie comes over, you play hard to get for a little before your grinding and kissing on each other, you yell at him, and then you fuck.

connie has you laid out on your back, pushing your knees to your ears and fucking you right. he can’t help but stare at your pretty face every time. cheeks lightly dusted a soft baby pink, pouty lips producing drool, and big teary eyes peering down at where you two meet.

you’re whining the whole time, you try to run from it a little bit. i mean with a fat cock like connie’s he doesn’t blame you. he knows you’re trying your best, such a tiny girl can only take so much.

in the end though connie’s not with the bullshit, you know he can try and play the nice guy act all he wants, he always reveals himself in the end.

“feels good, baby?” he’s still pounding in you keeping a good pace. with every thrust, it seems like your pussy’s talking back to him, letting out wet squirts and lewd squelches. connie thinks it can’t get better than this, no he knows.

why can’t she just fucking cooperate? connie thinks it to himself while looking down at your pretty face, zoned out and making all the pretty sounds in the world. it’s really fucking pointless to keep trying to deny him every time. you must think it cute but it pisses him off.

he pulls out suddenly and once you notice you immediately start to bitch n whine. he rolls his eyes.

your pussy’s leaking and it aches to be filled again. you cry and cry but connie shuts you up real fast, taking a heavy hand and slapping your poor cunt.

“ah— co-connie, hic, st-stop!” he puts a single finger in your pussy and finger fucks your while he talks for a minute, y’know just to keep you happy. he thinks you look so cute all compliant. tits all out, pussy dripping, nothing for you to say out that bratty mouth but an occasional hiccup and a moan.

“we’re getting back together, you understand? sick of you playing these dumb ass games, (name), i mean really,” he stops to get real close to your face. he pulls his finger out your cunt and plops it in his mouth, sucking and slurping on it lewdly, now he’s got your attention.

you start to object but he cuts you off and you can tell by his tone he wants this to make you sad. make you cry.

“you really think you can live without me, baby? find someone fucking better than me?” he lets out an annoyingly mocking laugh and gets all in your area, practically spitting on your face.

“you’re a stupid bitch y’know that?” here they come. “i mean really, who’s gonna put up with you like i can, you’re just another dumb bitch without me, and let’s be honest about that, (n,n).” yeah there they are. and once they start they don’t stop. you’re practically sobbing now, doing everything you can to get this asshole off of you.

connie likes that he has that control over you. it only takes a minimum of three sentences that can bring you down, he likes how only he has that control over you. he puts his dick back in and fucks you hard. he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. hitting those impossibly deep spots inside, he keeps it up.

“who the fuck would you even try to find anyway,” he huffs a sigh and his face scrunches up even thinking of you with someone else. “i’ll fucking kill them, y ‘ know that?” he grabs your face with one hand and pulls you real close. still fucking into your pussy and expecting a full conversation.

you’re crying and crying and trying to bring your arms up to push him away. “g-g-get off—get o-off me!” he thinks it’s cute, you say it like you really mean it. you’re fucking pathetic, he wants you to know your fucking pathetic.

he giggles a bit at his thought, shoving the back of your head back into the sofa and keeping his hand laid there, a tight grip across your face.

“you’re such a fucking crybaby, (name).” yeah that’ll really get you started. you’re borderline wailing now, kicking your arms and your little feet. trying to get him the hell off you.

he loves it. every fucking second he loves it. loves your little wails, your crying eyes, all of it. your pretty lips that try to bite his fingers, any way to get him off of you. your clenching fist, flapping every which way just to hit him once. he loves it.

he thinks it makes your pussy better.

#connie springer #bimbo!reader #connie springer smut #connie x reader #aot connie #aot smut #tw toxic relationship #toxic connie #toxic!connie #tw noncon #tw dubcon #dark content #reader described as tiny

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raineandsky · 3 days

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Hiiiii, love ur writing!!! May I request a story about the strong and undefeatable villain getting some head injury (maybe concussion) during the battle with some third party, and after that peacefully resting on a bench in alley, but then hero finds him and decides to help, even though these two don't like each other. Pretty please 🐹☘️💗

your please was so pretty i couldnt not write this! i really enjoyed this one, i hope you do too :D

Part of the hero’s job is helping those in need. Stopping when they cross someone lying on a park bench, in the dingiest, darkest part of the park, just feels normal to them in the moment.

That is until they notice who it is.

“[Villain]?” The hero can’t think of anything else to say. Their hands are already halfway to the cuffs in their pocket. “What’re you doing out here?”

This is the part where the villain leaps up with a laugh about how the hero’s fallen into a trap, leaping into a monologue before the inevitable battle.

But instead the villain opens his eyes to glance at them, his gaze not fully focusing on them, and simply says “‘m tired.”

The hero crouches down to his level. It’s clear he has no intention of getting up. They open their mouth to say something curt, distrusting, but they stop themself short.

They’ve noticed the blood painting the other side of the villain's face, dried into his hair and on his skin. Panic flutters in the hero’s gut. How bad is it? What happened? Their training only covered the basics of first aid. This wasn’t part of it.

He looks so small like this. The hero had always thought of the villain as indestructible, perfect in every evil way. But this—he’s defeatable, he’s normal, he’s human. Just like the rest of them.

They carefully push the villain over, earning a disgruntled “eugh” that they ignore to brush his hair away and take in the damage.

“Are yo’ shoes clean?” he says shortly as the hero grapples with a tissue from their pocket. “I think… I’m gonna throw up.”

“Please don’t.” They carefully take their tissue to the villain’s head, which he tries to cringe away from. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Wha’?”

“What happened to you, [Villain]?”

The villain’s eyes train on the hero's idly, unseeingly. “There’s stars on your face.”

“Okay. Okay.” Blood has turned the tissue into a crime scene, but it’s making little difference to the state of the villain. “We need to get you some help.”

It barely even occurs to the hero to do otherwise. A hero isn’t a hero without the soul to do the hardest parts of kindness, they know. To show mercy to those who might not deserve it. To help those who likely don’t want it. To show the villain compassion they know they’ll never get back.

The hero pulls the villain upright, with absolutely no help from the villain. They get him sitting up and he almost keels straight back over the moment they let go.

They settle on the bench next to him, careful to hold him up. “How’re you feeling, [Villain]?”

“I hav’ the… worst headache.” It comes out disjointed, like he’s piecing the sentence together as he says it. The hero pulls his arm over their shoulder. “Wha’s going on?”

“We’re going to the hospital.” The villain barely reacts to this, when before the hero probably would’ve had to drag him there kicking and screaming before. “We’re going to stand up, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

The villain sways on his feet as the hero pulls him up, a slight stagger almost taking them both down. “Oup,” he says with a short breath of a laugh.

“Okay,” the hero says again, more to themself than to the villain. “Let’s get you fixed.”

The hero walks the villain all the way to the hospital, the journey slow and full of close encounters with the pavement, and makes themself at home in his hospital room.

The villain would never do the same for the hero. They’re a villain. Obviously. That’s why the hero is the good guy. They'd expect nothing less.

But when the villain wakes up properly, coherent and all-there, the first thing out of their mouth is an absolutely seething, entirely genuine “thank you.”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #LAST DAY AT WORK TOMORROW BITCHESSSSS #i am So Excited to leave it has been a tar pit ever since i handed my notice in #fukn BYE

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spideyhexx · 1 day

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soft billy thought is that especially after the stargazing scene with his father i always think about how romantic he could find stargazing as a date especially with like a boss’s/sheriff’s daughter reader where he sneaks you out of your room to take you stargazing in the middle of the night

(accidentally falling asleep out there and having to rush you back as the sun is rising and it leaves for some very rushed kisses goodbye but you assure him it was the best night possible as he apologizes for keeping you out all night)

yeah :(

He’d probably choose that as your nightly activity after he knows you had a bad day. While Billy can’t be seen conversing with you during the day, he still overhears things, talk in town, about how hard your father was on you when you did the daily trip into town for supplies and food with him, which ended up in a scene, you getting scolded and humiliated by him right in the town center.

So Billy makes sure his evening is free. He doesn’t know if you’re gonna busy, he doesn’t know if you even want to see him, but after giving himself some words of encouragement, he makes his way right outside your window, like he’s done countless times before.

You’re startled when you see him pop up but it’s no hesitation. You get off your bed and open it, immediately speaking to him in a hushed whisper, “I didn’t know if you were coming.”

Billy gives a look like that’s the most ridiculous thing you could’ve said, “no hello?” He teases, with a soft smile but he quickly says, “‘f course I’d come,” and he nods his head out towards the fields, asking you to come with him for a few hours.

Of course you say yes. Once you’re both on the ground, he gives you a proper hug, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back, relaying that he heard what had happened as the two of you start to walk. You rant to him about your father like you typically do and Billy continues to feel frustrated that you’re stuck with him as a father, that you two are stuck hiding away.

But he’s quick to reassure you he’d hide forever if it meant getting to spend time with you. Once you get to a good spot (at his choice), you both lay in the grass on your backs, opposite ways but heads against one another, looking up at the sky. His fingers caress yours, and he speaks in his softer tone, pointing out any constellations he can pick out.

You both try to make your own and he’s silly with it, so you’d laugh. That was his purpose tonight anyways. To get you smiling. Calm. As some time passes, you eventually shift to actually lay with him, your head on his chest, fiddling with a button on his shirt.

“this had gotta be the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me,” you tell him and he’s happy you can’t see his face right now because he’s blushing hard.

“I’ll do it all over again if it’ll make you smile like before,” Billy says, fixing your jacket on you so you’re more covered, you being cold was a worry of his but the way you lean into him, he can tell you’re comfortable.

It was already in his mind that he had to get you back to your room, but the comfort do you against him and the crisp air lulled you both to sleep. It’s near sunrise when you wake, immediately panicking and shaking him awake.

He’s groggy and rubbing at his eyes as he sits up and puts his hat back on, standing up, tugging on your hand to help you stand. Billy’s got a tight grip on your hand the whole way back, terrified he’s ruined this and your father would find out.

“‘M so sorry, honey, I won’t fall asleep like that next time, you were just so…it was just so…,” he trails off and looks back to you once you stop under your window, your hands reaching to cradle his face and give his lips a quick peck.

“None of that apologizing. Was the best night, Billy.”

He looks into your eyes, with stars in his own, silent for a moment like he’s zoned out on you and your admiration. It makes you chuckle and pat his cheek, “Billy, I gotta go.”

“Right, yeah,” he chuckles, flushing, and gives your lips a peck too, then again, and again, smiling as your grin gets wider. He can’t he’ll but place small little kisses to your cheek and chin and jaw as you’re pulling away.

He stops reluctantly when he has to help you back up into your room and he turns his head expectantly, and you place a long, lingering kiss on his cheek.

“Have a good day, Billy,” you say to him, and he nods, “you too, honey,” before he leaves.

#billyasks #this was longer than I meant it to be but👍#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid fic #billy the kid smut #billy bonney #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #william bonney #william bonney x reader #tom blyth #william bonney x you #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid drabble #billy the kid blurb

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meetinginsamarra · 3 days

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mayprompts2024, #29 hero

Chapters 1 to 5 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Nine (hero)

John turned around to head for the next bus stop, not knowing if he would even be able to get there. Taking a step and moving away from the tattoo shop seemed impossible. The weight of the world was crushing down on his shoulders and the outlook of not seeing Sherlock for at least a week cut deep into his chest and right into his heart.

The connection I’ve felt, being with Sherlock. Now that it’s gone, I almost feel sick.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily.

Dear God, I think I’ve fallen for him. Fuck. Not just his looks, which are top notch of course, no, it’s the whole package of his personality. Even if he is a real dick at times. I can’t help it.

And yet, I’m wondering.

Did he feel it, too? He practically glowed down there in the lab, speaking to me, showing off his equipment. My appreciation of what he has achieved made him incandescent.

But does he like me back? As a person, as John Watson, the whole package I come with? Or was he just happy to have an audience that applauded his every move? To be forgotten as soon as I’m gone and out of his sight?

The gloomy thoughts clogged John’s brain and rendered him unable to walk away, condemning him to oscillate on the pavement in front of the shop.

“Oh, hello dear. You must be John?”

John was so preoccupied by his musings that he jumped badly when a woman’s voice suddenly adressed him.

“Erm, yes?”

Looking into the direction the voice had come from, John registered a frail but distinguished looking old lady. She had just sat down two heavy looking bags with groceries and held a bunch of keys in her hand. A large golden number dangled from the main key ring.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you looked so forlorn and sad. Sherlock has not rejected you again, or has he?”

“Ah, no, he’ll tattoo me,” John quickly connected the puzzle pieces, “and you must be Sherlock’s landlady.”

“Tch, I forgot to introduce myself properly.” She chuckled and offered her hand. “I’m Martha Hudson. Most of the time I’m more like Sherlock’s housekeeper since he cannot be arsed to do the simplest household chores himself.”

Shaking her hand firmly, John laughed. “That sounds very much like him. Always thinking about ink, is he?”

“Yes, yes. He calls it the INK, written all in capital letters. It’s his greatest passion, he cares for little else.” She unlocked the front door.

This offhand comment struck a chord in John, one whose sound he did not really want to hear again. Doubt. Doubt if Sherlock really cared about him apart from putting INK on his skin. He shook himself mentally, trying to get rid of the anxiety that crept upon him like a feral beast.

“Pleased to meet you. Let me just praise the scones you’ve made. They’ve been the best I ever had.”

Mrs Hudson made a delighted sound. “What a charmer you are!”

“Just telling the truth.” John pointed to the grocery bags. “Can I help you with these?”

“Oh, please, if you don’t mind, dear. When the weather is like this, my bad hip is always acting up.”

John carried the bags into 221A, Mrs Hudson’s flat on the ground floor. He put them onto her kitchen table and was about to leave when she invited him on a cup of tea as a thank you for his help. Like every proper Englishman, John could not refuse.

“Did you know that Sherlock explicitly requested tea and scones for you today?” Mrs Hudson said when she handed John the cup with steaming hot tea, watching his face quizzically.

“No?” The undeniable sly look on her otherwise so friendly and open face caught John a bit on the wrong foot. “I thought it was the usual hospitality he shows to his clients.”

Mrs Hudson outright laughed.

“My dear, he never cares about hospitality. The clients come to him anyway, no matter how rude he behaves. Can you imagine my surprise when he asked me to provide tea and scones for your appointment today?”

She refilled John’s tea cup. “He said I need tea and the best scones you can bake when John comes back. Sherlock even added a please in an afterthought.”

“He was sure I’d come back and acept his offer. He just knew.” John shrugged. “He knew me better than I know myself.”

“Not the point, dear. Sherlock wanted to have tea and scones for you. He wanted to impress you and be nice. You must mean something to him if he goes to such lenghts, don’t you think?” Mrs Hudson winked and grinned.

John wondered if she had adopted this mannerism from Sherlock or if it had been the other way around.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think so.” John decided to be honest with Mrs Hudson. Somehow, he was convinced he could trust her. He added wistfully. “I really wish I would be more to him than just the next canvas to put his INK onto.”

“He’s had a hard time in the past,” Mrs Hudson said, “he doesn’t let people get close to him easily or quickly lowers the protective shield he’s put around his heart.”

“Really?” John wondered. “He seemed pretty open and relaxed when he showed me all the stuff in his ink laboratory in the basement.”

“He what?” Mrs Hudson cried out and jumped up. The hip was not bothering her now, apparently.

“John! He never lets people in there. It’s his sanctum sanctorum. It took four months and constant nagging on my behalf until he let me take a look and I own this house. If he shows it to you just like this, you have to be very special to him already!”

Blissful warmth spread through John’s body. His nerves tingled and his blood sang a dulcet melody full of hope. Could it be that…

John beamed. “Thank you so much for telling me, Mrs Hudson. That he cares about me.”

Suddenly, Mrs Hudson’s posture changed.

She fixated John with ice cold eyes, pinning him on the chair. Steel had replaced every trace of her earlier softness and age-related frailty. She stepped up to John.

“Just to give a you heads-up, you’re not the only person who cares about Sherlock.” Her voice was sharp, quiet and deadly serious. “Or protects him.”

It sent chills running down John’s spine.

Mrs Hudson briefly squeezed John’s shoulder. “If you hurt him, I’ll lace your tea with rat poison. I know a nice lad who is a building contractor and he’ll bury your body somewhere in a concrete slab.”

Theatrical as it might appear, John believed her every word.

And just like this, the fearsome avenging angel that had occupied Mrs Hudson’s body disappeared, leaving the nice old landlady behind.

“Do you want another cup of tea, my dear?” She asked sweetly.

In this moment John decided that Martha Hudson was a true heroine.

++++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno

#mayprompts2024 #number 29 hero #my sherlock fanfics #white pony tattoo #no beta we die like (wo)men

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inblurtub · 3 days

Text

my nominations

for race line awards !

took me some good times to dive back into my ao3 history:) at this point i guess this couldn't be regarded as "lines" anymore, but anyways-- i've enjoyed myself while doing this:) thank you sooo much for bringing up this awards

love notes in the kitchen (say it all) - @/formulaes (mark/sebastian)

Mark bent down to pick up the ring. What the fuck?, he thought, what the actual entire fuck? He turned the ring over in his hands, noting a small engraving on the inside of the ring: Love You Forever. Mark might actually be going into shock. No fucking way had Sebastian just proposed to him through the romantic medium of eating all his chocolate (again) and leaving an engagement ring as an IOU.

postcards from places that miss you - @/streetlightsky (sebastian/charles)

My poor English cannot describe how much I adore the title like it expressed the context and Charles's feelings sooo well. I felt the peacefulness and caught on an sensational hunch throughout my reading. Very recommend for when you wanna escape tough life out there.

love notes in the kitchen (say it all) - @/formulaes (mark/sebastian)

He doesn’t say Multi 2-1, but they both know it’s what he means. Once upon a time a statement like that would have made Mark seethe with rage, but now it just makes him laugh and pounce at Seb, grabbing him in a bear hug and lifting him off the ground with a playful growl. “Ah! Mark!” Seb shrieks, “Mark! No, put me down! I’m innocent!” He shakes Seb around playfully, ignoring the clang of the tin as it hits the ground and peppering his face with kisses, “Stop.” kiss “Eating.” kiss “My.” kiss “Chocolate.” kiss. Seb is giggling like a maniac, pretending to try and escape from Mark’s embrace as his feet finally touch back down to earth.

Cut open your Heart - @/Lovely_Lotus (carlos/oscar)

His eyes follow Oscar as he bends down to pick something up, his back muscles flexing and accentuating where Carlos left his marks behind. But Carlos is unable to appreciate it. He is transfixed by the thing Oscar picks up. It's Carlos’ clothes. The 55 displayed proudly on the fireproofs. But there's something wrong with them. Only when Oscar puts them on does he notice that they are red. Weren’t they blue before? Oscar doesn’t seem to notice, nor does he seem to care. He takes one last look at him that Carlos can’t decipher. Unlocks the door and walks out, leaving Carlos behind to bleed out.

To Lando… - @/Lottie1824 (lando/oscar)

Not long until the end of the season now. I think I can do this and I can feel you with me every step of the way. Love you forever and always Oscar.

5 times lando came into oscar’s room and told him he was bad at hugging plus one time oscar went into lando’s room and gave him the best hug of his life (by fall out boy) - anonymous user (lando/oscar)

“I don’t want to skip the sprint though,” Lando said. “I don’t want to let people down.” “Taking care of yourself is not letting people down,” Oscar said. “Which is why you're here to help me,” Lando said, attempting to smile. “I’ll help you as best as I can, but I’m not a professional so I might make it worse.” “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Lando said, his eyes dark and serious. “I trust you, Oscar.”

cherry - @/helioslover (max/charles)

Max hates planes. Max also hates being too shy to ask the stewardess for a night mask so that he could sleep through the flight. Max hates knowing who’ll be picking him up at the airport. Max also hates the way he is happy to see a familiar face in a country where he doesn’t know anyone, even if it is this familiar face. But Max mostly hates the way he is eager to see Charles.

amaranthine - @/kjstark (carlos/charles)

Fate smiles at them again. And when the sun hits Carlos on the face during the anthems, his eyes don’t burn. You see: his teammate is Charles Leclerc, he’s used to the blinding light.

he just turned in like i didn’t exist - @/linearity (carlos/oscar)

You see, Oscar doesn’t have a problem with his soulmate. It’s his soulmate who has the fucking problem.

#racelineawards #carcar #lestappen #landoscar #markseb #f1 #f1 fanfic #charlos #sebchal

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melodramaticatheart · 2 days

Text

Lighten Up

Dean has a panic attack when Micheal suddenly appears out of the blue and distracts him from stressing thoughts.

Pairing: Dean Redding and Micheal Townsend

Word Count: 753

Book: The Naturals

Author's Note: the bromance guys!!! this was interesting to write since i rarely write from a guy's pov, especially in 1st person. anywho yeah i love my boys so writing about them and their dynamic was fun. had to cut some words cause it came down to just a bunch of yapping lol. also im kinda proud of this one!

taglist: @nqds, @reminiscentreader, @urbanflorals, @art-of-fools, @deprivedofbraincellsandsleep, @lxvebelle

The heat on my chest was brewing. I needed air. The doors stood at the end of the hall taunting me, so close yet so far away. I stumbled forward, getting closer to my goal. I finally made my way outside, breathing in the night. I took a moment to compose my shaking hands, counting as I stared at the moonlit pool. The panic in my chest only rose. I stood there, trying to make sense of how I’d let myself break.

Again.

Sterling was ordering Agent Locke to take me to visit my father for a new case, something about patterns. But every time I walked into that interrogation room, all I wanted was to shoot him in the head, his eyes on me. I’m not like him. I repeated the thought to myself until I half believed it.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen someone so pouty while staring at the moon.” My back straightens at the sound of Michael’s voice. “Fuck off, Townsend,” I grunt, not having the energy to deal with his bullshit. “Why the long face, Redding?” Michael teased, his grin seemed to have a presence of it’s own since I felt it before I saw it. He came to stand before me, two beers in hand and glinting eyes.

The tension between us was palpable; about a dozen arguments and unresolved fights helped make that. I stumbled forward, sitting on the familiar cobblestone steps, getting away from his figure.

“What do you want, Townsend?” I snapped, not bearing his company. My hands still trembled; the cool night breeze helped, but not enough.

Michael quietly came to sit beside me for a long moment before offering me a beer. “Thought you might need this.”

I stared at the bottle, temptation running on my tongue, before silently laughing. Only Townsend would offer the solution of drinking away my problem. “No? Ok, more for me I guess,” He says uncapping a beer and taking a chug. “Look man I know that Sterling has you going to see your dad again, it must suck ass I’m just trying to,” He lowered his voice to a whisper “Make sure you’re ok.” “What no way the Micheal Townsend cares about me?! This can’t be” I feigned sarcasm not caring to put a single inch of emotion into my words. “Shut up, I’m just doing it 'cause if you fall apart so do the girls and I don’t need to be taking care of three sad wimps.” I stare at him and take a beer out of his hand temptation winning over.

“Y’know you shift your shoulder when you lie, Lia must be bored with how easy it is to figure you out.”

“Shut up” He retorts with a snort,

A long silence seems to settle itself between us, leaving us to drink and drink. “I can handle it y’know” I take a moment before continuing, ignoring the sting in my eyes. “I don’t need you worrying about me, especially not Sloane or Lia,” I say with finality, not wanting them to worry about me, it was bad enough when Sterling looked at me like the same broken child I was so long ago, I didn’t need to see the worried glances from the girls every time I went out. “Can you? Handle it I mean?” He takes another swig from his beer before pointing to where I was standing just 20 minutes ago. “Cause from over there it looked like you were losing it.”

I knew what he was saying was true and yet I couldn’t let myself admit it. “Every time I see him I feel so helpless. It’s like i’m back in that house” I cut myself off taking a shuddering breath. “Don’t worry Redding, whether you like it or not you’re stuck with the lot of us, we’ll help you get though it and then when we go through our shit you’ll be there for us too.” I nod stiffly to his words knowing the truth behind them. “We’re a team, and if one of us breaks, well we can’t have that happening” The familiar word of Agent Locke sound through my head as Micheal stands up finishing up his beer. “Hey you notice how much calmer you are with my presence? It’s almost as if i’m a relaxing thought for you” He backtracks to the door his cocky grin back on his face. I give him my middle finger, happily confirming that no amount ‘heart to heart’ could change our relationship.

#soph writes 𝜗𝜚 #the naturals #killer instinct #all in #bad blood #twelve #dean redding #micheal townsend

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zukkacore · 3 days

Text

Crossposted to ao3

The morning after Frosty Fair Festival, Jace summons Porter to the principal’s office.

“I’ve been VP for five minutes, and I find out that one of the fucking Bad Kids is taking three simultaneous years of artificer class? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You can’t pin that on me, Stardiamond.” Porter’s laugh is easygoing, and he’s only half paying attention as he watches the smoke trail from the cigarette he’s waving around. “I tried to dissuade him. He put himself through that.”

“But you won’t sign his MCAT. Do you want his annoying little truant friend to hate you?”

Porter laughs. “Miss Faeth isn’t a truant, I’ve been taking attendance for her in barbarian classes nearly every day."

He takes a long drag. “Of course you have.”

“Miss Faeth hates me no matter what I do. If she hasn’t caught on to what’s going on by now, I think you can breathe. Besides, I like a challenge. Something you could stand to learn.”

He tries to take another drag, but his hands are shaking, he’s so mad. There’s a clenching in his chest where the shatterstar is placed, then a pain that radiates outward. He winces. “Be it from me to question your teaching methods, but. Do you know what the Bad Kids did to the last vice principal?”

“Hey. I brought you back once. I can do it again.”

“I—” He doesn’t want to talk about that right now. He’s not ready to talk about it. “Tell me, does getting chewed out by a devil because one of his best bloodrush players is swamped sound like a good time to you? Jawbone recommended I look into xanax, that’s how wired I’ve been. And that was before I got ‘promoted’.”

“I’m sure you could get your hands on some if you attended one of his orgies.”

“Go to hell.”

“Likewise.”

They glare back and forth. Jace is used to getting into tiffs with Porter, but this—this is real.

When he opens his mouth, his voice is quiet. “I don’t see why you can’t just sign the kid’s fucking MCAT.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the whole impassioned speech,” says Porter, “It’s nice to see you actually riled up about something once in your silver-spoon life, maybe finally you’ll start giving a fuck.”

“I’m not riled up,” says Jace, but he’s working to keep his voice steady.

He’s used to the assumptions about his life, and he’d much rather keep up appearances than let a soul know about his estranged parents or the mind that’s trying to kill him. That’s the thing about sorcery—when your power is innate, you can never stop being grateful. If things are fucked, they could always, always be worse. He has to be unassuming. He likes being unassuming, because a gift is not a threat. And if his student’s can see that this scary thing they can’t help doesn’t have to rule their life, then, yeah, he’s ok with being a little bit of a joke.

At least, he was ok with it, before Porter Cliffbreaker broke him and shoved a shatterstar into his gaping chest wound and gave him a choice: rage or oblivion? He made his choice. He can’t back out now. So doesn’t Porter see he’s trying to look out for him? “I just think it would make things so much easier—”

“For who? You? Pardon me for treading on your cushy little gig.”

“Oh, we’re way past that.” Eight months past, to be exact. His mind is drifting back fondly to bleeding out in the Mountain’s of Chaos. He’s grateful that it’s so early in the morning, that no one is around to cast Detect Thoughts.

“Thistlespring could use a little tough love. That’s just the way I teach, now that you’re in charge, you’re gonna have to deal with it. He’s an orc, Stardiamond—barbarism is in his blood. He just needs to apply himself. I mean, you’ve seen the kid play bloodrush, he’s a beast.”

He grimaces. Something about the way Porter is speaking, he can’t place it, but he feels sick to his stomach.

“Right,” says Porter, clearly misjudging the expression on his face. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt for you to show a little school spirit.”

Jace laughs sharply.

“Well. He’s a beast you’re gonna find yourself on the wrong side of if you don’t watch yourself. You know how The Bad Kids are—they worm their way into everything, and the goblin that Kipperlily hates, he’s the worst of all. You know, he ate—Forget it. I just. I don’t want you getting—” He stops just short of saying it. As much as Porter has personally fucked him over, he’s in it too deep. Despite everything, Jace cares about him. He’s just so tired of trying to make things work. “If… this plan is so important to you, you have to be a little more tactful and a little less—you.”

“You think I can’t take care of myself, Stardiamond?” Porter flashes an infuriating grin.

“I didn’t say that. I just said… Be careful.”

“I appreciate the feedback and the personal concern, veep, but trust me when I say you’re letting your personal feelings get in the way with this one.”

His face is burning up, and he’s certain he’s a humiliating shade of red. Jace doesn’t even have to say anything. Porter knows what a low blow that is.

“Yeah, well,” mutters Jace. “Multiclassing is not for everyone.”

“Right.”

Jace is a good sorcerer. So good that it’s hard to articulate to his students what to him is second nature. He’s not the kind of teacher who does lesson plans precisely because he was never the kind of student who needed to study. It’s eerie how much Porter in these moments reminds him of his own teacher—the kind of teacher who praises his natural gifts all day and was absolutely resistant to him looking into other classes because he viewed it as a waste, as noncommittal, as proof of his lack of dedication.

Jace never got his MCAT signed. And he was… not prepared for the sheer volume of work required for even early level wizardry. He wanted it; he wanted to be the kind of dedicated person who could put in the work. Maybe his teacher had been right, maybe he wasn’t very bright, and maybe he hadn’t been cut out to be a wizard, but it did feel a little like he was thrown in the deep end and told to swim just to prove a point. He’s always been a slave to his impulses. And in the end, he ran back to sorcery where they welcomed him back with open arms because it felt good to be good at something.

He can feel the thrum of the shatterstar in his chest, anger coupled with shame. He hates himself for being Jace Stardiamond. He’s always taken the path of least resistance.

He’s not even sure he could call himself a good sorcerer anymore. He’s never been the kind of wizardly person who innately finds the joy of learning and discovery. He’s never found it all that rewarding. But sorcery does require a kind of self-knowledge, a certainty of oneself that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Whoever he is right now is a stranger, buried under several feet of bitterness and self-loathing.

“What’s it to you? You don’t even give a fuck about your own students, have you gotten a soft heart about little Thistlespring all of a sudden?”

“I don’t give a fuck about Thistlespring! Don’t you get it?”

“Look, if he confronts me on it, I’ll sign the damn MCAT. Happy? I was only resistant at first because—well, I mean, have you heard that ridiculous song he sings? The kid’s not very bright.”

He doesn’t answer.

“I’ll get it done if it means that much to you. C’mere.”

Porter takes Jace by the hands, pulling him in so that he can wrap his arms around Jace’s waist.

“We’re at school—” says Jace, but his protests are half-hearted. He turns his head, and he can feel Porter’s lips press up against his cheek.

“Listen to me.” Porter takes his face in his hands. “I have everything under control. The Bad Kids are nothing, Jace. Trust me. They’re twig gremlins. Maybe I got a little overinvested. I can’t help it, I need recruits, and the kid’s a natural. But that’s not everything. He’s too… Too timid. Afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Embracing his power.”

“Are… Are we still, um—” Porter’s gaze on him is so intense, Jace forgets what he’s saying. But that drive that he sees in Porter, that deep need to push, to optimize, to always be the best—it’s always been a source of deep frustration for Jace. But he can’t deny those are the same traits that make Porter so easy to admire. Maybe it’s just a wish, but he swears he can see the same admiration mirrored in Porter’s expression.

He can feel himself being reeled back in. His life is currently a living hell, but something in him has always felt compelled to be worthy of Porter’s admiration.

He wishes he could be the kind of person Porter wants him to be. He worries that there is no ascendant version of him, that this really is all his potential, plain and simple. But he’ll try. For Porter, he wants to be great.

They can hear footsteps on the other side of the door. Time for school.

Porter is quick to change gears. He coughs, clearing his throat as Jace is quick to step away. “Tell you what—I’ll get that straightened away, Stardiamond. I’ll sign the papers. Things were a little rocky at first, but you know what? He earned it, after the damn display of frosty fair. He’ll make a great… adventurer.” He’s watching. “You know. When the time comes.”

Jace sighs, but it does nothing to help release the tension in his chest. Yeah. Frosty fair. He has to make the announcement about that soon. He can feel a headache coming on just thinking about it.

Porter kisses him, but Jace is quick to brush him away and toward the door. “You need to go.”

Porter grins, and Jace can feel his heart skipping like he’s some teen adventurer with a schoolyard crush. “Tell me some things aren’t worth a little risk.”

“Well, I have to give a speech,” says Jace, following Porter out of the office. Jawbone waves at them, and Jace nods as he shuts the door behind them.

“Hey. You’re gonna knock it out of the park, alright?” He gives Jace a punch in the shoulder, and it’s so awkward that Jace would be charmed by it in any other circumstance. Like they’re amicable co-workers and not the bad guys. Like they’re not intertwined, Porter’s rage making a comfy little home in his ribcage. “We’re all looking to you, now, Stardiamond. It’s a heavy burden, but I can’t think of anyone else I’d trust more to handle the responsibility.”

Jace doesn’t bother to check his insight. If Porter says it, he’s ready to believe it.

#starbreaker #jace stardiamond #porter cliffbreaker #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 #fantasy high #emotional abuse tw #jaceporter #jan.fic #long post #the sliver of time for this convo to have happened (post-grix post promotion pre-MCAT signing is so small that it's actually funny #this is kinda a fic and kinda a meta. A lot of the stuff abt jace is like pure speculative / headcanon etc etc tho #jan.mine

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sulkybender · 12 hours

Text

the poem of you: a Zukka fic

tags: established relationship, hurt Sokka, hurt/comfort, Sokka has OCD, loving and protective Zuko, modern au

He finds Sokka curled on the floor next to the bed and his heart falls.

He always looks like he’s trying to make a shell with his body, a shell against the world he doesn’t have.

Zuko gets down on his knees, touches his back.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and Sokka starts to cry. Zuko covers him with his body, protection. The soft weight of Sokka crying underneath, the raggedness of his breath.

“I’m here,” Zuko says, kissing the back of his neck, that vulnerable place, the short hairs delicate under his touch. “Baby, I’m right here.”

“It’s bad,” he weeps, inarticulate.

“I know,” Zuko says. “I know. I love you.”

He curls around Sokka and tries, so hard, to protect him.

—

Sometimes the thoughts are bad; they don’t relent. It’s like being kicked in the head, Sokka tells him, by the same thought over and over.

Fuckup.

He helps Sokka from the floor and tries to be gentle with him. Zuko spoons him in bed, pressing kisses to his hands. His whole body is stiff, delayed, fighting an infection from within. And the infection is Sokka, and the infection is killing Sokka. Or trying its best.

“I love you so much,” Zuko says, arms slipping around his waist, snug. “You’re my baby, you know that? You’re my turtleduck.”

Sokka is cried out, hunched in on himself, hurting. The shakiness of his breath is painful. Zuko wants to take the pain away. It’s always seemed so unfair that he can’t.

He would do anything for Sokka, but there’s nothing he can do.

“You want me to tell you about my day?” he asks, and Sokka nods.

Sokka is the talker—Zuko isn’t the talker—but Zuko can do this, can talk for him, fill the silences that Sokka’s mind would try to fill with unkind things.

“Hmm, let’s see.” Zuko noses at his ear, nuzzling kisses. “It was a slow day. Did some client research. Ate a shitty croissant.”

He hums, thinking.

“I wrote poems for a bit.” He can feel Sokka smile a little. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that,” Zuko says.

He falls into silence again for a while, feeling the soft rise and fall of Sokka’s chest. He’s no good at this, the steady patter, the lull of it. He tries to think of other topics but all he can do is wonder how long Sokka was on the floor.

“What kind of poems?”

Sokka’s voice is hoarse.

“Nothing special.” Zuko kisses the back of his neck. “I wrote them on sticky notes and then I hid them in my desk.” He can feel the little motion that means Sokka is laughing, suppressed. “Yeah, yeah. Go on and say it.”

“Nothing,” Sokka says.

“It’s never nothing.”

“I just love you,” Sokka says, his voice cracking slightly, and Zuko feels warm all over. He could cry.

“I love you so much it’s crazy,” he says. He cards his fingers through Sokka’s hair. He wants to take care of Sokka so badly. It’s this ache in him all the time.

“Were the poems about me?”

Zuko snorts.

“I wanna know,” Sokka whines.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says.

“That’s why you love me.”

He rolls over onto his back, smiling up at Zuko. And the smile is hesitant, his eyes still bright from crying, but he looks so handsome Zuko doesn’t know what to do with himself. His hair spills on the pillow, rich brown flecked with gold. He cradles Sokka’s cheek, thumb stroking the line of his jaw.

He wants to write about the way Sokka’s hair looks, the way his face looks, the particular tilt of it, the thoughtful way his lips purse. He wants to write about wanting to take care of Sokka. Inadequate: his care, his words for it.

“I would write such shitty love poems about you,” he says.

“I’d love that,” Sokka says.

“I’m sure you would.” He kisses Sokka’s head. “Only the shittiest.”

Sokka gestures, a little beckoning movement, and Zuko lies back in his arms, warm, Sokka’s hand protective on his hip. He can feel the tremor in Sokka’s hand, the exhaustion. He’s exhausted himself with the thoughts in his head, been pummeled by them. He’s pummeled still.

“You’ll read them to me sometime,” Sokka murmurs.

“I will not.”

“Someday you’re gonna be a famous poet,” Sokka says. “And then I’ll have to see your poems. There’s no avoiding it.”

He’s tracing circles in Zuko’s hipbone, delicate enough to make Zuko shiver with love. He wants to make Sokka dinner; he wants to wash his hair. He wants to do everything, because he can’t do the one thing, the thing that matters. He wants to fall asleep holding Sokka safe from the world.

“Can we go on a walk later?” Sokka asks, hesitant. “Just to, um.”

It helps when he’s tired, too tired to think circles around himself. Zuko nuzzles him. “Of course, baby. I’d love to walk with you.”

He feels Sokka slump a little in relief.

“God, you’re fucking lovely, you know that?” he says.

And Zuko doesn’t know that, because there’s an infection inside him too, the thing that makes him doubt himself. The thing that makes him write poems on sticky notes and hide them away.

He takes Sokka’s hand, presses it to his cheek. He’ll write a poem someday about that—the feeling of Sokka’s hand on his cheek.

But he doesn’t have the words for that now. His words are so much less beautiful than that, such ordinary things.

“You can always ask me to walk with you,” he says.

And Sokka smiles like it’s a poem anyway.

#atla #zuko #sokka #zukka #zukka fanfic #ocd #Sokka has ocd #Zuko taking care of Sokka <3

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fanficshiddles · 3 days

Text

Eternally Mine, Chapter 8

The day that everyone had been waiting for finally arrived. The day of the Christmas ball.

Louise was round at Loki and Claire’s, getting ready with Claire in the spare room while Loki got ready in his and Claire’s room.

‘It was just perfect, he’s so sweet. The ducks were eating from his hand and it was the cutest thing.’ Louise gushed excitedly as she told Claire about her date in the park with Chris the other day.

‘I would pay good money to see that.’ Claire laughed.

‘I know he looks intimidating, but he’s so damn soft.’ Louise squealed as Claire did up the zip at the back of her dress.

‘He can look terrifying when he wants to, but yeah, I imagine you are getting the sweet side from him. I’ve seen it with Bat, he can be sweet and sensitive when he wants to.’ Claire laughed.

‘We walked around for a couple of hours, holding hands. He never let my hand go, even when we bumped into a couple of his ex-students, he even introduced me as his girlfriend to them.’ Louise blushed.

‘Aww, you are both so smitten with each other, it’s adorable. You’re going to look amazing together tonight.’ Claire said gleefully.

‘Not as amazing as you and Loki. You two are couple goals.’ Louise grinned as she turned around to help Claire with her dress.

‘Don’t tell Loki that, his head will get so big he won’t get through the door.’ Claire teased.

‘Ok, will keep it between us then.’ Louise laughed.

‘At least you’re kind of getting the equivalent to prom that you missed out on.’ Claire said softly.

‘That’s true. Though this will be much better than prom would’ve been anyway.’ Louise laughed nervously.

Ray never asked her to be his date for prom, even though they were dating at the time. He said it was stupid and a waste of time, when she had mentioned about still going, he’d made her feel bad for wanting to go without him. So she ended up skipping it.

‘I still can’t believe that Chris asked me to go with him… I hope he’ll like this dress.’

‘Of course he will. He’d like you even wearing a bin bag.’ Claire laughed. ‘Though that dress is amazing on you.’

Louise was wearing a black dress that flowed right down to the floor, the top part was black lace, with lace sleeves too.

Claire wore a dark green dress that went down to the floor too, it was low cut at the chest and had low straps that went around her upper arms rather than over her shoulders.

‘Green is Loki’s favourite colour, isn’t it?’ Louise asked Claire.

‘It is.’ Claire said with a smirk.

‘I’ll need to find out Chris’.’ Louise pondered.

‘Black like his soul.’ Claire joked, earing a playful punch to her arm from Louise.

Once they were both ready, they made their way downstairs. Loki was down there waiting, wearing a tuxedo, his black suit jacket had dark green lapels, he was looking very handsome as always. Making Claire’s mind turn to mush.

Loki grinned when he saw Claire and Louise, he wolf-whistled at them. ‘Wow, looking stunning, ladies.’ Though his eyes were quickly locked completely on Claire.

Claire blushed as she walked up to him and draped her arms around his neck, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her in close as he dipped his head down to kiss her.

‘Chris is on his way… and we have a surprise for you both.’ Loki grinned and tore his eyes away from Claire to look at Louise.

‘A surprise?’ Claire raised an eyebrow. ‘What is it?’

‘Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.’ Loki chuckled and tapped her nose.

Louise felt her stomach lurch when Loki said that Chris was on his way over. She was so giddy with excitement and nerves again. She really wished she wouldn’t get so nervous when she was about to meet with Chris, she hoped that feeling would piss off soon. Though she knew like the last few dates, it would disappear once she was with him.

A little meow from behind her pulled her from her thoughts. She turned around to see Bat strolling up to her, purring before she had even reached her.

‘Hey, Bat.’ She laughed and crouched down to stroke her. ‘I wish you could come along.’

Bat let out a meow in response, though continued purring as Louise stroked under her chin.

‘She would cause chaos.’ Loki laughed.

Bat leaned to the side to look past Louise and let out a yowl at her owner, making Louise and Claire laugh.

Loki heard a car pull up and he heard Chris coming up the path to the door.

‘Our ride is here.’ Loki announced and turned to open the door to greet his brother.

‘Hey big bro. Looking rather dapper.’ Loki chuckled.

Chris had on a tuxedo as well, but he had a white jacket with black lapels instead and he had on black leather gloves. His hair was slicked back neatly, instead of just hanging down the sides of his face as usual.

‘Could say the same for you. You scrub up alright.’ Chris teased.

Chris looked past Loki, he saw Louise was bent over speaking to Bat with her back to them. She stood up and turned around upon hearing Chris, and his breath was knocked out of him.

Loki smirked upon seeing his reaction, so did Claire. Chris’ eyes went wide and his mouth parted but nothing came out at first, till he managed to get out a wow.

Louise blushed and looked down shyly as she walked towards him. Chris reached out and gently gripped her chin, tilting her head upwards so their eyes could meet. ‘You are so beautiful.’ He said softly, then leaned down to kiss her cheek.

She barely managed to say thank you, saying something incoherent instead.

‘That means thank you, in flustered Louise language.’ Claire teased.

Louise looked at Claire with wide eyes for a moment, with a look of I’m going to kill you for that.

Chris chuckled and stepped back a little, he offered his gloved hand out towards Louise. ‘Shall we?’

Louise took his hand without hesitation and he led her outside. Loki took Claire’s hand and they stepped outside after calling goodbye to Bat.

‘Oh my god!’ Both Louise and Claire squealed when they saw a white limo parked on the street.

‘Is this for us?’ Louise looked up at Chris, who was grinning from ear to ear at their reaction.

‘It is indeed. Taking us there and back again. I thought you deserved to be treated like a true princess.’ Chris winked at her.

Louise squeezed Chris’ hand, she wanted to cry with happiness, but didn’t want to mess up her make-up, so held it together.

Claire bobbed up and down in excitement. ‘Loki! You should have told me. This is amazing.’ She laughed and gave him a big hug.

There was a driver that got out and opened the door for them. The guys helped their girls in, then they got comfortable on the posh leather seats. When Chris sat down, Louise couldn’t help herself from sliding in close next to him.

‘Is that champagne?’ Claire asked when Loki opened a mini fridge that was at the front, he pulled out a bottle and glasses.

‘It is indeed.’ He grinned and proceeded to pour them all a glass.

Once they were settled, the driver set off to take them to the school. Even though it was only a ten-minute drive going the longer way, they still enjoyed turning up in style.

‘You told the driver to go the long way?’ Claire asked Chris.

‘Of course. Need to try and get our money’s worth, even if it just an extra five minutes.’ He grinned.

‘Do you think we can finish the bottle before we get there?’ Loki asked as he downed his first glass.

‘You and Chris might be alright but me and Louise will be on the floor if we try.’ Claire scoffed as she wrapped her arm around Loki’s.

‘We would like to at least make it in to the ball.’ Louise laughed.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll carry you in if you’re too drunk.’ Chris chuckled.

When they arrived at the school, there were already people there and heading inside. Jessica and Spencer had just arrived, Jessica gasped out loud when she saw the four get out of the limo.

‘Oh my god. So jealous! Where was our invite for this ride?’ Jessica said as she narrowed her eyes at the guys.

‘More than welcome to join us for the ride home.’ Chris offered as he helped Louise out.

‘Definitely!’ Jessica cheered.

‘Jessica, you look amazing!’ Claire gushed as she gave her a hug.

Jessica was wearing a lime green dress that was ankle length, and it was very low cut at her chest.

‘I knew I should’ve gone for a tuxedo.’ Spencer sighed after seeing Loki and Chris.

‘Nonsense, you look hot.’ Jessica assured him as she took his hand.

‘Well, let’s get inside.’ Loki smiled at Claire, he put his arm out for her.

Louise had already latched onto Chris’ arm as soon as they’d gotten out of the limo, making him feel pleased as punch. He could tell she was a bit unsure still around the others, till she got to know them more.

Chris had never felt prouder though as he walked into the hall with Louise on his arm. He couldn’t stop smiling.

The hall was decorated beautifully for the ball, streamers and balloons everywhere in lots of gold and silver colours. Everyone there, students included, looked amazing. Matt, David and Michael were wearing tuxedos, though Hannibal and Will wore suits, which made Spencer happy.

‘Where’s Severus? Surely, he’s not missing out on this event.’ Matt asked as he looked around the hall.

‘He will be here.’ Chris said confidently.

‘I dunno, this is Severus we’re talking about.’ Loki scoffed.

Just as they all got their drinks from the bar, the doors opened once more. The group all looked over when they realised it was Severus. In an all-black velvet suit. The beautiful woman on his arm was wearing a black dress, with long puffy sleeves and a big slit in the left side of the dress, it was very low cut down between her breasts and had slightly see through lace across the chest.

‘Finally, we get to meet his girlfriend.’ Claire said excitedly. ‘And holy shit, she’s hot!’

Loki’s eyebrows almost shot off his head when he saw who it was.

‘No fucking way.’ David gasped.

‘It’s her! She’s his girlfriend?’ Hannibal asked in disbelief.

‘Do we need to be worried?’ Matt asked.

‘Why do we need to be worried? Who is it?’ Louise asked Chris, concerned.

‘No need to be worried at all. I promise.’ Chris assured her, and the others. He lifted Louise’s hand up and kissed the back of it.

When Severus and his partner reached the group, he had a small smirk on his face from the look of shock on everyone's face.

‘Hey, Chris. You scrub up not too shabby for a hound dog.’

Chris smirked and chuckled a little. ‘Could say the same for you, you finally figured out what a shower is for, hmm?’

‘Wait, you knew?’ Loki asked Chris, still in disbelief.

‘Of course I did. I could smell them on one another from a mile away.’ Chris scoffed.

Severus chuckled slightly in amusement. ‘Everyone, this is my soulmate, Toshi.’

Claire was the first one to dart forward. ‘So nice to finally meet you! You look absolutely gorgeous if you don’t mind me saying.’ She said as she shot her hand out towards her.

Toshi laughed lightly and blushed a little bit as she shook her hand. ‘Nice to meet you too, Claire.’

‘Wait, how do you know her name?’ David asked, confused.

‘I wouldn’t be a very good hunter if I didn’t know about you all.’ Toshi smirked.

‘Hunter?’ Louise asked quietly.

‘Yes, Toshi is a hunter. She was once the most ruthless hunter out there. However, no need to worry. She only goes after the bad vampires now, she is on our side.’ Chris explained to her.

‘You’re still tiptoeing the line though, brother.’ Loki grumbled a bit at him.

Louise’s face was a little panicked at that.

‘To be fair, he has helped me with a few bad guys lately that needed wiped off the face of the Earth.’ Toshi interjected with.

‘Really?’ Loki raised an eyebrow and looked at Chris, who looked a little irritated. Though he was glad that she said that, as he felt Louise relax again.

‘I am… trying.’ Chris said as he glanced briefly at Loki.

‘You’re the one who’s been looking over the school, right?’ Matt asked Toshi.

‘Yep. That’s me.’ Toshi nodded. ‘So I think you all owe me a drink as thanks.’

‘I think that’s the least we can do for all your help lately.’ Loki chuckled as they all headed for the bar.

‘Right. Let’s get this party started!’ Jessica whooped as the music started up.

#tom hiddleston #loki #chris motionless #loki x ofc #david tennant #michael fassbender #matt murdock #jessica chastain #the redbridge hunts #eternally mine #severus snape

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scary-grace · 19 hours

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 8) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“I can’t believe this is happening,” the high school student at the front desk says for the millionth time. “He must be so scared.”

“That kid? No way. He’s probably killed half the League already.” One of the nurses scoffs. “He’ll be fine. The heroes will handle this and put an end to that mess before you know it.”

You’ve been hearing versions of this conversation for the last three days, and you were bored of them on day one. It’s an effort not to roll your eyes. “But he got kidnapped,” the high schooler says again. “He probably doesn’t even know what happened to his friends, if they’re okay –”

“The other students are okay,” you say. “I heard two of them are still unconscious, but they think they’ll be fine. Their lungs were just more sensitive to the gas than the others’ were.”

“Was it really mustard gas?” the high schooler asks, and you shake your head. “How do you know?”

“A friend of mine,” you say. You’re not talking about Tenko. “He’s helping the heroes gather intel. He says it’s more like Midnight’s sleeping gas, but with a cumulative exposure effect.”

“The news said that kid was in high school,” a passing doctor says. “What are we doing wrong that kids in high school are turning to villainy?”

“It’s a problem with the villain, not with us.”

You can’t hold in the derisive sound you make, and all three of them turn to you. “What is it?” the doctor asks. “You don’t agree?”

“I just think it’s weird for people who see what we see every day to act like every villain is just born bad,” you say. Your colleagues stare at you. “Some of our patients feel trapped. A lot more of them feel helpless, or hopeless. Most of them have had hard lives, and no one’s helped them or saved them. If they feel invisible in their suffering, it’s not hard to imagine why some of those people lash out. Not even to hurt others. Just to be seen.”

You know what it’s like to feel hopeless, to feel invisible. To feel angry and know that your anger doesn’t matter, because you don’t matter in the first place. You turned that feeling inward, but most people aim it out. “People don’t become villains because they’re happy with their lives, or who they are. The way the world works makes a lot of people unhappy.”

“Young people – present company excepted – want everything handed to them,” the doctor says. He gestures at you and the high schooler. “If we had more people like the two of you, it would be a different story. You know how to work hard.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say. You’re not making your point well. You try again. “The villains who currently exist are the heroes’ job. It’s our job as a society to stop new villains from arising. The only way to do that is to make things better for everybody.”

“Of course,” the nurse says tiredly. She’s probably been working at the clinic longer than you and the doctor combined, and longer than the high schooler’s been alive. “When you figure that one out, honey, let me know.”

You’d love to. Really. Lately the difference between what you feel and what you think has been growing, so fast that it’s consuming every thought in its wake. Kazuo might be right from a legal standpoint that not stopping something isn’t the same thing as aiding and abetting it, but that doesn’t change how it feels. The attack on the training camp succeeded. The psychopathic student was kidnapped. Students were hurt. Pro heroes were hurt. One hero is missing. Moonfish, Mustard, and Muscular were all captured. And you knew it was happening ahead of time.

This time, you weren’t powerless to stop Tenko’s plans. You could have contacted UA and warned them that the location of their summer training camp had been compromised, that villains were planning an attack. You could have done it without endangering Tenko – he wouldn’t have even been there, and with Kurogiri’s protocol of warping everyone to and from the hideout, none of the others could have revealed his location if they were captured. You could have stopped this. Part of you wishes you had.

And part of you can’t stop picturing the look on Tenko’s face if he found out you betrayed his trust. The hurt you’d see there in the moments before he sealed it away. He’d probably kill you, and you’d feel so guilty that you’d probably want him to – but it’s not the fear of death that keeps you quiet. It’s the fear of losing him again, by your own fault this time. So you’ll take the guilt over the attack on UA’s training camp, the kidnapped student, the missing hero. You’d rather feel sick over that than hollowed out by losing your best friend.

You’re on the night shift, but it’s slow tonight, and when the high schooler turns on the TV in the waiting room, you don’t stop her. UA is having a press conference, with the principal and the two teachers who were there at the training camp apologizing for allowing the students to be put at risk again. You shouldn’t feel guilty, but you do, and you almost ask the high schooler to turn it off – but then the hero whose student was kidnapped starts defending said student, and you get annoyed. “That’s not what he’s like?” You mimic the hero’s flat, almost-affectless voice, then revert to your own. “Bullshit. That’s exactly what he’s like.”

“Huh?” The high schooler looks at you, surprised – or maybe offended. “That’s his teacher. He knows him better than you do. You’ve never met him.”

“I’ve met dozens of him. I know what they’re like.” You think of your siblings, the twins, the triplets. You think of the people who made your life hell until you made stronger friends. “You know who knows that kid better than his teacher? Everybody that kid has ever picked on. They only show who they really are to people who can’t hit them back.”

The high schooler is staring now. “I’ve never heard you say that much about anything before.”

You step out from behind the desk and head to the lobby for a little cleaning. “I only get one outburst per month. You can tune in next time.” In general, you’re not reactive – growing up, you weren’t allowed to react to anything – but ever since you found Tenko, you’ve found it harder and harder to hold in your frustration with the way things are. Your viewpoint doesn’t align with the League of Villains or with Stain, because you don’t think that dismantling the heroic system would automatically create a better world, but lately you can’t shut up about the things that are wrong.

Employment and housing discrimination against quirkless people and heteromorphs, and the total lack of anti-discrimination laws. The constant threat of violence, triggered so often by heroes pursuing nonviolent criminals, in situations where violence shouldn’t be necessary. The disinterest most ordinary people show in helping anyone, changing anything, because they expect heroes to do it for them. Things people who have power never see or think about. Things you’ve been living with since you were a child.

Seeing the heroic system come tumbling down won’t fix any of that. All it will do is put the privileged on the same level as you are, force them to play by the same rules you’ve had to follow. And some part of you thinks that would be a nice thing to see. After all, you’ve been playing this game your whole life. For once, you’d like to have the advantage.

The UA press conference is just concluding when you feel the first vibration, a low deep hum traveling through the air. A chill goes down your spine, and you look up from cleaning the air conditioning filter in the lobby to the high schooler behind the desk, only to find her already looking at you. The TV switches to breaking news with a blast of trumpets, announcing that All Might and various heroes have teamed up to rescue Bakugou of Class 1-A, but even as they’re announcing the good news, another vibration travels through the air. A moment later, a similar vibration travels through the ground. Somewhere in the distance, you hear a crash – an enormously loud sound, coming from just far enough away to avoid rupturing your eardrums. Not far enough to avoid rupturing anything else.

“Get down!” you shout, diving for cover, and the high schooler drops behind the counter just in time for the windows to blow apart, spraying glass across the lobby.

Now you can hear explosions. Or you could, if your ears weren’t ringing. When you look out the shattered windows, you see a sky that should be cloudy and dark blue turning unearthly purple and orange. As the ringing in your ears dies down, you hear screams, sirens, the whirring of helicopter blades. Something terrible is happening.

You struggle to your knees, then your feet, doing your best to avoid the broken glass. “Are you okay?” you shout to the high schooler. You hear a whimper from behind the desk, and a split second later, the phone starts to ring. “Can you grab that?”

No answer. You stumble through the glass, kicking piles of it aside, and find the high schooler crouched behind the desk, shaking. She doesn’t look hurt. Shell-shocked, sure, but not hurt. You aren’t seeing blood. You grab the phone. “Yokohama Free Clinic South. How can I help you?”

“This is Yokohama PD. Your building has been designated as an evacuation site. Please prepare to receive evacuees from Kamino Ward.”

“Kamino Ward?” You fumble the clinic’s disaster preparedness binder out of the desk and start flipping frantically through it. “Our windows are gone from the shockwave that just came through. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Is the building still standing?” The officer on the other end doesn’t wait for confirmation. “The first evacuees should be arriving within minutes. Once the hospitals are full, the remaining casualties will be directed to you.”

“What? We’re an urgent care, not a mass casualty –” The line goes dead and you stare at it in horror. The rest of the night shift, doctors and nurses and techs, are just emerging from the back of the clinic. You turn to look at them and try to convey the information as quickly and efficiently as possible. “Evacuees from Kamino Ward are coming here. Once the hospitals are full, the casualties will be coming here, too.”

“What’s happening in Kamino Ward?”

“Look.” The high schooler’s voice is almost as shaky as her hand as she points to the TV. You do as she says and everything gets worse in a heartbeat.

Kamino Ward is gone. It’s a smoking crater, ringed by the ruins of buildings, and in the center of it all stand a collection of small figures. Half your thoughts come to a stop on the buildings, on how many people must be trapped in the wreckage. The rest are with the group of people in the crater. Wherever the news feed is coming from, whoever’s filming zooms in until you can see their faces. All Might’s there. So is Tenko’s master. And so is Tenko, him and the rest of the League, everyone who wasn’t captured after the attack on the training camp – alongside the student they kidnapped.

LIVE: All Might fights unknown villain, the scroll at the bottom of the screen says. Kamino Ward leveled. Rescue efforts underway.

Two of your friends live in Kamino Ward. Your mind floods with emotion, the leaks in your defense mechanisms coming from a dozen different sources. Worry for your friends, panic about the evacuees who are about to descend on your clinic and the casualties that are sure to follow, terror that the fight will break from Kamino Ward and come to you. Fear for Tenko, who’s right there in the middle of it all. Shame over the fact that when you realized he was there, your fear for him drowned everything else in a split second.

But you don’t have time for worry or panic or shame or fear, because you can hear voices in the street. People are coming here, looking for shelter, and there’s glass all over the floor of the lobby. “We need to clean this up,” you call out to the others, even as you run for a broom. “We have to hurry.”

Somebody yanks the broom out of your hands and passes it to one of the CNAs. The doctor forces the disaster preparedness binder into your hands instead, only for one of the older nurses to snatch it away. “Put her on triage. We need to keep them calm and we need to move fast.”

You’re good at those two things when the lobby is full. Not when an absurd number of people are being directed your way. You pull the blinds over the glassless windows, hoping it’ll stop people from seeing them as entry points to the building, and prop open the door, stationing yourself just inside it. When you see the crowd coming down the street, led by an overwhelmed-looking police officer and two minor heroes from the area, you take a deep breath and do everything you can to clear your mind.

“Get a list of who’s here,” the nurse who took the disaster preparedness binder hisses in your ear. “Uninjured to the right and left, injured to the front.”

“Got it,” you say. Someone drops a pile of nametags and a permanent marker into your hands. That’ll work. One of the heroes has jogged ahead to meet you, and you square up. “Get everybody in a line. Keep families together. We’ll take care of the rest. How many do you have?”

“A hundred, plus or minus twenty. Some fell behind.”

And those are probably the injured ones. “Go back and pick them up,” you say. “We’ll handle this.”

The hero conveys your instructions to the others, and a line begins to form. You address the first person in line – a grey-haired man, carrying what looks like either a grandchild or a random kid. “Family name, first initial,” you say. Iwamura K, granddaughter Iwamura T. “Injuries?”

None. You peel off the stickers, apply them to each evacuee’s arm, then herd them inside. “Next?”

Your handwriting gets worse and worse with every nametag, but you’re moving fast. You screw up the system you were supposed to implement almost immediately. Uninjured evacuees go to the right side of the lobby. Injured ones go to the left, where the other nurses are waiting to triage them more effectively. All the while the air vibrates with distant blows and you vibrate with it, your mind teetering between focusing on the tasks at hand and worrying about your friends, about Tenko. You’re scared that one of your friends will come through the door on a stretcher. You’re scared that Tenko won’t come back at all.

The phone rings somewhere behind you while you’ve still got dozens of people in line, and a moment later, the high schooler shouts to you. “The teaching hospital’s full and the route to Yokohama General is cut off. They’re directing casualties here.”

Fuck. When you find out who cut off the route to the city’s biggest, most modern hospital, you’re going to break your foot off in their ass. That goes double if the guilty party is Tenko’s master. You start hustling people into the building at top speed, trying to think of which entrance will be best to direct the ambulances to. The rear entrance, probably. Somebody else will have to take care of that. You’ve still got people coming through the door.

The closer to the back of the line you get, the more damage the evacuees are working with. The last few are covered with dust, their clothes torn, their bodies already bruising. You try to ask them what happened, but your words are drowned out by a collective gasp, followed by dead silence from inside the building. The TV is still going, the words tinny and distant, but you hear the first person who speaks up loud and clear. It’s a kid. “Mama, what’s wrong with All Might?”

The noise comes back up immediately, leaving you with no idea what’s happening, no idea if All Might’s been defeated or killed, no idea whether the fight’s shifting, heading this way. You hear ambulance sirens wailing, getting louder with every passing second, and someone yanks your arm. You turn to find one of the medical assistants. “Go to the back. They want you helping with the ambulances.”

You don’t want you helping with the ambulances. You’re good under pressure, but not that kind of pressure. Not the kind where someone will die if you screw it up. You try to reason with yourself as you weave through the lobby and head down the hall, aiming for the back doors. You’re not running point on any of these cases. Your job is to assist the doctors and the nurse-practitioners. They’ll tell you what to do. You just have to do it. It’ll be fine. You think that, and keep thinking it, right up until you put on your mask and gloves and turn around to find yourself facing a patient whose legs have been crushed below the knee.

It’s awful. There’s blood and sinew and tissue everywhere, and sharp fragments of bone emanating from the exposed kneecap. Bitter saliva floods your mouth and your stomach turns, threatening to upend itself, but you grew up with siblings who could make you vomit on their command. You learned to resist them, and this – you clench your jaw and step forward. “How can I help?”

“Pinch off the femoral artery on the left side.” The doctor’s face is pale. The patient is unconscious, must be unconscious, because otherwise you can’t imagine the doctor saying what he says next. “We’re in hell.”

You’re not given to dramatic statements, but as the time wears on, you start to agree with him. You lose track of which patients you’re seeing. It’s all you can do to remember to switch gloves between patients. Your scrubs get sprayed with blood, but you can’t change them. There’s not time. The site commander for whatever’s happening in Kamino Ward sent your clinic twelve patients who should have gone to Yokohama General. You can’t save them. Your job is to keep them alive long enough to transport them to the people who can.

It’s a task you fail once, twice, three times, five times. One of the nurses, someone who worked somewhere else before coming here, tells you that the patients wouldn’t have made it anyway, but it doesn’t help. Even with the EMTs of the ambulances staying to lend a hand, there aren’t enough hands, not enough eyes to spot the signs of someone crashing and not enough mouths to call out a warning. You lose five, stabilize seven. If this goes on much longer, you might lose them all.

News of what’s happening in Kamino Ward trickles back slowly. All Might’s deflated, or decrepit. Skeletal. Disfigured. All Might’s getting an assist from the Number Two hero – Hiro will be thrilled. All Might’s winning. All Might’s won, but the League of Villains has escaped. All of them except their backer – All For One.

All For One. It’s not a villain name you’ve heard before, but you’re pretty sure that’s Tenko’s master. Whoever he is, wherever he came from, he was strong enough to hurt All Might, to nearly kill All Might. If he could do that, what the hell does he need Tenko for? What’s going to happen to Tenko with his backer gone? Where is the League going to go? You’re pretty sure they can’t go back to their hideout – it was where they were planning to take the captured student, and if they and the student wound up in Kamino Ward, something went wrong. Where’s Tenko now?

That’s not your problem right now. Your problem is your patients, and whether or not any of them will still be alive by the time the route to Yokohama General reopens. You throw yourself back into work. Back into hell.

Relief eventually arrives in the form of basically every off-duty staff member – all of them who don’t live in Kamino, that is. You stay in the mix, not wanting to be the first one to call for help. You’re not that tired, anyway. You just got on shift at six. You have a long way to go before –

“It’s seven am. Get out,” your supervisor says, and you stare blankly at her. Seven am? That can’t be right. It was midnight two seconds ago. “This patient’s stable, and the route to Yokohama General is finally open. Transfer them and go home. With all the repairs we’ll have to make, we can’t afford to pay you overtime.”

Transfer, then home. You transfer the patient, who hasn’t been conscious once since they arrived in the clinic with a skull fracture wide enough to see their brain through, to the waiting EMTs, and then you go looking for a change of clothes. There isn’t one. You’ll be wearing this home. You wade through another crowd of people to clock out, then step out onto the street. The trains probably aren’t working, but that’s fine. It’s not that far. You can walk.

The sky is still purple and orange. Clouds of smoke are billowing up from whatever happened in Kamino Ward, and you can smell it, along with gasoline and ozone and who knows how many other acrid stenches. You check your phone as you walk and find frantic messages from your friends, everyone trying to confirm that everyone else is alive. You tap out a message confirming that you were at work and you’re fine. Then you put your phone away and trudge the rest of the way home.

After the noise of the clinic, unabated for hours upon hours, your apartment building is weirdly quiet. At this time of day people should be up, getting ready for work, getting their kids ready for school, but instead it feels like time’s stopped. Maybe they left. Maybe they’re in an evacuation shelter somewhere. You don’t know. You unlock the door to your apartment and step inside – and freeze.

Your apartment should be empty. It isn’t. Your apartment is full of people, and you’ve met them all at least once before – Spinner, Dabi, Magne, Compress, Twice, Toga. Kurogiri. Tenko. No, Tomura. They’re all staring at you, just like you’re staring at them.

Toga’s the first one to speak. “So that’s what you look like,” she says, smiling. “I knew you were cute!”

“Don’t scream,” Tomura says. You shut your mouth and shake your head. He looks you up and down, frowning. “Whose blood is that?”

“At work. I was at work. We got some of the casualties from – from Kamino –” You’re stammering. You’re making approximately zero sense. There’s only one question that matters. “What are you doing here?”

Nobody answers you. Dabi’s mouth contorts into a sneer. “No wonder you wouldn’t show your face before. You’re a fucking civilian.”

“Yeah, she’s a civilian. That’s why her place is safe to stay at,” Tomura snaps at him. He turns back to you, the frown still present behind the hand. “Is all that blood somebody else’s?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine. You feel numb, but your heart is racing so fast that you’re worried you might faint. “Did anybody see you? Or hear you?”

“Kurogiri delivered us right to your living room,” Compress says. “We’ve been quiet. Most of us.”

He’s aiming a dirty look at Magne, who glares back. “It hurts,” she snaps. “If somebody stabbed you in the chest –”

Your stomach lurches. “Stabbed?”

“I hit my face on that giant hero’s face. Do you hear me complaining?”

“You were stabbed?” You step around Tomura and cross the room to where Magne’s sprawled in one of your armchairs. “How long ago? Is it still bleeding?”

“Not with a knife,” Magne says. With what, then? “Boss’s daddy forcibly activated my quirk with his hideous little tentacles.”

There’s nothing about that sentence that you don’t hate. “The same thing happened to Kurogiri,” Spinner adds. He’s leaning against the wall. Grimacing. “A hero messed with him first, though.”

The answer to the question of why they’re here finally clicks in your overworked, exhausted brain. You’re the team medic, and they’ve all been hurt. They need you to do the same thing you’ve been doing all night, when all you want to do is peel off your bloody clothes and go to sleep. Instead, you need to triage. “Okay, who took an injury that knocked them out?”

Hands go up – Magne, Dabi, Kurogiri. Compress might have a facial fracture, based on the way his mask is askew. Spinner’s ribs hurt, but he never lost consciousness, and he’s not bleeding from anywhere. Twice, Toga, and Tomura are all beaten up but otherwise fine. You point them in the direction of the freezer so they can put together some ice packs, then turn your attention to the group who passed out.

Of the three of them, Dabi was unconscious the longest, and his injury was a head injury. He threw up when he regained consciousness, although thankfully not on your floor or your couch. He reports a splitting headache, and when you shine the penlight from your keychain in his eyes, you see that one of his pupils isn’t reacting normally to the light. That’s not a good sign. “Do you remember what happened immediately before the blow to the head?”

“Why do you want to know? So you can make your story sound better for the cops?”

“No, I’m testing your memory. It’s an indicator for the severity of the concussion. Track my finger with your eyes.” You observe his eye movements. It could go either way. “What happened before you were struck?”

“The damn kid turned us down. Who does he think he is?” Dabi scoffs. “Shigaraki told Compress to turn him loose, like a fucking moron, and then the fucking heroes broke through the wall. One of them kicked me and that’s all I remember.”

“Kicked you in the head?”

“That’s right.” Dabi groans. “Fuck off with that light in my face.”

You put the penlight away and think through your options. “I’m going to give you some medicine. Over-the-counter NSAIDs –”

“What?”

“Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs,” Tomura says. You glance at him, surprised, and find him smiling slightly from behind the hand. “Acetaminophen or ibuprofen. They’re over the counter. You can get them without a prescription.”

“I know what over the counter means,” Dabi snaps. “I didn’t ask you. I asked the medic. Do you have some?”

“Yeah. Acetaminophen’s best for this. The bottles are opened, but I’m going to go get them – Twice, will you come with me and watch me get them?” you ask. Twice looks startled. “You can watch me and tell Dabi that I’m not tampering with the pills at all.”

“I’m not that fucking paranoid,” Dabi says. But he doesn’t tell Twice not to follow you.

You’ve been wondering if Twice remembers you. So far it seems like he doesn’t, but something jogs his memory as you come back with the bottles. “I knew I’d seen you before,” he announces loudly, and you shush him alongside Compress, Toga, and Tomura. “You stitched up my mask!”

“Did the stitches hold okay?” you ask. “I know it was a little rushed.”

“Barely,” Twice says. Then: “They were great! Lasted until Giran hooked me up with a new one.”

“You’ve met her before?” Compress asks, suspicious.

“Sure thing. If she’d showed her face, I could have backed up the boss and said she was all right!” Twice sounds cheerful. He slaps you on the back and you nearly spill acetaminophen tablets all over the floor. “Nicest nurse I ever had. No screaming, no calling the cops. Just stitched my mask and gave me the good drugs and sent me on my way!”

“He got the good drugs?” Tomura says, incredulous. “Why didn’t I get those?”

“You behaved. Sort of.” You need to get into the kitchen, but Toga and Tomura are both there, holding bags of ice to their various scrapes and bruises. “Can one of you fill a glass of water? The cabinet to the right.”

Tomura does it – with warm sink water – and hands it off. You head back to Dabi, drop a double dose of acetaminophen into his hand, and order him to drink the whole glass of water with it. You’ll hit him with the same dose in six hours, if they’re still here in six hours. It won’t do anything good for his liver, but if he’s in too much pain to rest and starts trying to do things, his liver will be the least of his worries. You order him to hold still, eyes closed, and focus on Magne and Kurogiri.

Your friends got you a stethoscope as a gag gift a while back, but the stethoscope is real, and you know how to use it. You listen for any irregularities in Magne’s breathing and heartbeat, then tell her to go into the bathroom and check for bruising on her torso – at which point she whips off her shirt. “Check for yourself.”

“Agh, no!” Spinner twists the other way, but not before you see his scales flushing. “Don’t do that!”

“Or at least give some warning,” Twice says. Then he gives a thumbs-up. “Looking good!”

“Put those away. There are children here,” Compress says.

“It’s okay.” Toga is staring avidly. “I don’t mind.”

“You should. We’re the League of Villains, not the League of Perverts.” Spinner is still facing away. “Are you done yet?”

“Are you done yet?” Magne asks you. You’ve been studying her torso and the series of bruises on it. “Well?”

“Nothing that suggests internal bleeding. You’re good to go.”

She pulls her shirt back on. “I hope you all enjoyed that. I won’t be doing it again.”

“Don’t,” Spinner says. “Please.”

You commandeer one of the ice bags Toga made and hand it to Magne, then turn your attention to Kurogiri. Kurogiri’s going to present a problem, and both of you know it. “What do you have in the way of internal organs?” you ask. “Heart, lungs, digestive tract –”

“Everything, but it will not be possible to listen to. This is in the way.”

“He can take it off,” Tomura says. “Kurogiri. Go somewhere else and show her.”

You’d say the bathroom, but Kurogiri’s a lot taller than you are. There wouldn’t be room. You go to your bedroom instead, leaving the door slightly cracked so you can listen to what’s happening in the living room and intervene if it gets too wild. Kurogiri shrugs out of his waistcoat, followed by his shirt, leaving nothing but a pair of pants and a swirling cloud of mist. Then, as you watch, the mist begins to peel back, revealing a body underneath it.

It’s pretty clearly a human body. It looks like it’s been stitched together out of multiple other bodies, but all the requisite parts of a human body appear to be present. So is the metal neckpiece of Kurogiri’s costume. Above it, though, there’s a face. It’s a young face. Younger than you, younger than Tomura, and it looks back at you with enormous yellow eyes. Its mouth moves, and the strange doubled voice issues from it. “Hurry up. I can’t do this for long.”

You conduct a quick physical exam. Unlike Magne, Kurogiri has actual puncture wounds. One actual puncture wound in his ribcage, and when you listen to his breathing, there’s a whistle on that side that shouldn’t be there. “You’ve got a punctured lung,” you say. “It might repair on its own. If there’s anyone else who can –”

“The doctor will perform the necessary maintenance,” Kurogiri says. That means zip to you, except that the doctor’s apparently willing to treat everybody except Tomura. “Is Shigaraki Tomura safe in your company?”

You look up into that young face, see the shadow of human eyes within the yellow ones. “He is.”

“Tell him where I have gone, and that I will return shortly.” Kurogiri vanishes.

You go back out to the living room and deliver the message, then check in with Compress and Spinner about their injuries. Compress won’t let you look under his mask, but does a self-exam under your direction and somewhat confirms your diagnosis of a cheekbone fracture. He gets NSAIDs and an ice pack. Spinner has a rib out of place. You need to put it back in.

He’s not making it easy. “Stop tensing up,” you say. “Every time you do that while I’m trying to put your rib back, the likelihood of a muscle tear goes up. That’s a lot harder to fix than a dislocated rib.”

“It hurts. I’d like to see you try it!”

“I haven’t had the privilege.” The temper you swear you don’t have is doing its best to break out of captivity. “Okay, here’s the deal. I have some vodka in there. You’re going to drink that while I check on the others, and then we’ll handle your rib. Okay?”

“Sure,” Spinner says, surprised. “You lift the bottle down from the top of the refrigerator and hand it over. “Thanks.”

Twice has mostly bumps and bruises, as well as complaints about the fact that Spinner got alcohol but he didn’t. You shoo him off to share with Spinner, then check in with Toga. Toga’s really interested in your scrubs. “How many people’s blood is on there?” she asks eagerly. “You’re so lucky. All that blood everywhere – doesn’t it smell good?”

“It just smells like blood to me. But my sense of smell probably isn’t as good as yours.” You look Toga up and down. “Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“No.” Toga keeps studying you. “Can you get some blood for me? If everybody’s already bleeding –”

“Sorry,” you say, and she pouts. “I’d get caught. Plus, don’t you want those kids’ blood? Blood from some random patient of mine probably won’t help much.”

“No,” Toga agrees, “but it would taste good.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re good to go, also.” You watch as she skips off to join Spinner and Twice, then turn your attention to Tomura. You saved him for last on purpose, hoping you’d get a chance to talk to him, and now that you have one, you don’t know what to say. “Um –”

“Don’t.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” The fact that you don’t know either is immaterial.

“It was probably going to be some kind of pep talk. In your evil shrink voice,” Tomura says, and your mouth twitches. He notices, and a moment later he’s mimicking you. “Tomura, this could be a lot worse. You could have gotten everybody captured instead of just Sensei. The kid you handpicked to join the League of Villains blew Father’s hand off your face, but at least you’ve got a face, right?”

The joke occurs to you, and you’re so tired and overwhelmed that it comes out of your mouth with zero edits. “That’s one more face than Sensei has.”

Tomura coughs. “What?”

“Also, you missed part of what I was going to say,” you say, seizing the momentum and running with it. “Well, what you were going to say. You were going to complain about All Might winning, and I was going to say that he didn’t really win, because he leveled Kamino Ward and I spent all night trying to keep the people in those buildings alive, and mostly failing –”

“Wait, what?”

“And then,” you say, wishing you hadn’t said a word about your job, “I was going to remind you that everybody saw All Might’s scarecrow form. So nobody’s going to want him to fuck them now.”

Tomura’s expression contorts to a degree that looks painful. “That’s – not – funny,” he grits out.

“I mean, when we talked about rendering All Might unfuckable, I thought it was just a pipe dream,” you say. Tomura’s shoulders are shaking now. You don’t know what else to do but keep going. “But this is proof. The sky’s the limit. Anything is possible. I mean, if you can set up a situation that takes All Might from fuckable to unfuckable in a split second, then you can do anything you want to do.”

Tomura is staring at you, speechless and twitching like he’s caught in an electric fence, and even though you think there’s a nonzero chance you’re going to get killed over this, you can’t resist. “How’s that for a pep talk?”

“It sucked,” Tomura says, and then he bursts out laughing.

You’re proud any time you can make him laugh, and this is no exception. At first he’s just laughing. Then his breathing starts to hitch, and you realize that the laughter’s tripped another circuit in his brain – one he probably doesn’t want the others to see. “What the hell are you two laughing about?” Dabi demands from the couch. “Let the rest of us in on it.”

“Yes,” Compress agrees, “we could use something to laugh at.”

“Inside joke. You wouldn’t understand.” You catch Tomura’s sleeve and tug him down the hallway, out of sight of the others. His laughter is sounding less and less like laughter with every passing second, and he’s clawing at his neck with one hand. You keep your voice quiet, trying above all not to drop into the conflict-resolution voice. “No. Tenko, don’t. That’s not going to make things better.”

“I really fucked up.” His voice, already raspy, cracks in a way that sounds painful. “Things were supposed to – I’m not ready. I haven’t learned. He was supposed to teach me. I can’t –”

Something tells you that right now’s not the time for a joke. You think Tenko might be crying. No, you know it, and he knows you know. “Don’t look.”

You remember that from forever ago. He never wanted you to see him cry. You turn your back, as much as it hurts you to do it, and as soon as you do, his arms come up around you. His hands are curled into fists, shielding you from his quirk, one balled up against your shoulder and the other balanced over your hipbone. Something thuds against the floor behind you and you glance to one side, a jolt running through you. There’s the hand he calls Father, discarded.

Tenko’s body shakes, strongly enough to rattle you both. He’s taller than you, but not so tall that he can’t duck down and press his face into the curve of your neck and shoulder to muffle himself. After a few seconds, it’s clear that it’s not enough. You feel his mouth meet your skin. A moment later, his teeth.

It stings, and you will yourself not to flinch. You remember the few times you actually saw Tenko cry instead as opposed to just hearing it when you were kids, remember seeing him shove his fist into his mouth to stay quiet, but both his hands are occupied holding you. You wonder if he even knows he’s biting you. Or how hard he’s biting you. His breath is hot against your skin. So are his tears, and you stand there, not flinching, letting your best friend take what he needs from you. He let you hug him the last time you saw each other, when you were upset over something as small as meeting his master. Over something this big, he can have this as long as he wants.

When you cry, your tears usually stop quickly. It’s a skill you developed on purpose. But Tenko’s take a while to trail off, and it’s a little while after that before his mouth lifts away from your skin. He doesn’t mention the bite, and neither do you. He keeps holding you close. “What were you doing tonight, again?”

“Forget about that,” you say. “It’s not important.”

“Say it again.” Tenko’s hand drifts from your hip halfway under your shirt, three fingers resting against your stomach and his index finger raised. “Please.”

You try to think. “Um, I said you had one more face than your master has –”

This time Tenko snorts. “After that.”

“I said you’d say All Might won, and I’d say he didn’t, because he leveled Kamino Ward,” you continue, “and I spent all night trying to save the people who were inside those buildings –”

“That’s it!” Tenko stiffens. One hand grabs your wrist and pulls you around to face him, and you see wild excitement in his face. “You didn’t blame me for those people getting hurt. You didn’t blame my master. You blamed All Might. My plan – turning people against heroes – what you said about making them choose wrong – it worked!”

“It worked,” you say, bewildered. “Ten, I’m not exactly the common denominator here. Everybody else –”

“The ones who worship the ground heroes walk on – they were always a lost cause,” Tenko says. You won’t argue with that. People like your parents and siblings will never listen. They won’t even try. “It’s people this system hurts who will see what I’m doing. People like you. You –”

He breaks off, looking at you, grinning with tear tracks down his face. You remember this look, too. Except when you were five years old, you never saw it in the split second before he kissed you. His mouth fits against yours, messy and enthusiastic with blood on his lips, blood that could be his – or yours, depending on whether his bite broke the skin. Tenko pushes you back against the wall and keeps kissing you, only breaking away for air when he has to. You wrap your arms around him, since he can’t touch you safely, and try to deliver a reality check. “Tenko, I’ve known you forever. If I understand you –”

“Then I don’t need anybody else to,” Tenko says. “Everyone else can get behind us or get out of my way.”

He kisses you again, but before you can really get into it, Magne calls out from the living room. “Are you two done fucking yet? Spinner’s got the hiccups.”

Tenko’s face turns bright red. He scrambles to pick up the hand, and you head down the hall ahead of him. “If we were fucking, it would take a lot longer than that,” you say, and Magne lets out a low whistle. You turn to Spinner. “Sorry about the hiccups, but we can use those. Stand up, over here. And hold your arms out like this –”

Spinner does it, grimacing. You observe the timing of the hiccups for a few more minutes, then step in and apply the necessary force, popping the rib back into place. Spinner lets out a small yelp that would be more problematic if any of your neighbors were around, then lowers his arms. “Is it done?”

“It’s back in place. Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Spinner says. Then he hiccups. “Fuck it. No.”

“We can fix that, too,” you say. “Follow me.”

Tomura comes back while you’re feeding a spoonful of sugar to Spinner, instructing him to hold it under his tongue until it dissolves. He fixates on the two of you. “What are you doing?”

“Curing the hiccups.” You direct Spinner to sit down, then focus on Tomura. “What else do you need?”

“Food,” Toga says, to general assent. “Do you have food?”

“Not enough for this many people,” you say. “But we can order in.”

Five pizzas at nine in the morning isn’t the weirdest delivery order you’ve ever placed, and it’s also not the most expensive. You have a coupon, and the members of the League of Villains are surprisingly willing to pitch in – although Twice and Compress try to give you counterfeit at first. Tomura calls them on it, and they pay up in real money, after which Compress gives you a quick and unexpected lesson in how to spot counterfeit currency.

“Obviously, none of that holds if it’s a copy of Twice’s,” he says at the conclusion of the explanation, “but it’s much easier to tell with Twice’s currency. Observe –”

He drags a nail across one of the coins Twice gave you, at which point it collapses into sludge on your kitchen table. “That’s the problem with Twice’s stuff,” Toga says. “It doesn’t hold together long.”

“It looks great while it does,” Twice protests. Then: “I’m a failure!”

Toga and Magne both console him, which is weird to watch. Weirdly supportive. You didn’t think villains were supportive of each other – but why wouldn’t they be? Villains are people, just like anybody else. They have enemies. It makes sense that they’d have friends, too.

Kurogiri’s return from the doctor is poorly timed – it happens right as the pizzas arrive, and it takes every ounce of people skills you possess to prevent the delivery driver from carrying the pizzas inside for you. Kurogiri goes immediately to check in with Tomura, while everyone else tears into the pizza like they’re starving. It’s all you can do to retrieve a piece or two for Tomura. You’ve sort of lost your appetite. The last time you remember having one was last night, before everything went to hell.

You come back to Tomura and Kurogiri in the kitchen. They’re strategizing, and Tomura takes the plate from you with one hand and pulls you into the conversation with the other. “This can’t be our base,” he says to Kurogiri. “It’s too much of a risk for all of us, her included.”

“What if it were to act as something of a way station?” Kurogiri suggests. “It will likely be some time before we can establish a base with some of the creature comforts we are used to. Perhaps if we were to come here for things like showers, or laundry –”

“I don’t want them alone with her.”

“I’m not here for most of the day,” you say. “I’m at work, or running errands, or with my friends. As long as you aren’t seen and you don’t run my water bill through the roof or eat all my food – or steal my stuff – it’s fine with me.”

“Having access to a place like this would improve morale,” Kurogiri continues. His eyes tilt towards Tomura. “It would also give you an excuse to visit that no one would question.”

“I don’t need an excuse to visit. I can do what I want,” Tomura says. It’s quiet for a second. “Fine. If you’re okay with it –”

“I’m okay with it.” Your phone buzzes and you check it, hoping it’s Sho or Hirono, but it’s neither – just work, telling you that you’re not on until tomorrow morning, instead of tonight like you were supposed to be. “How long do you think you’ll be staying this time?”

“Until dark,” Tomura says. “We have to lay low for a little while. Then we’ll move.”

“I would recommend getting some rest,” Kurogiri says. “After eating that.”

“I don’t need to rest.” Tomura picks up the pizza and takes a messy bite.

On your first date, such as it was, Tomura said that villains argue like kids do. Based on what happens after the pizza’s consumed, they fall asleep after they’ve eaten like kids do, too. They hold off sleep long enough to fight over sleeping positions, but none of them go after your bed, and when Tomura starts yawning, you take the empty plate out of his hands. “My room’s darker. It’ll be easier to sleep there.”

You feel yourself relax the instant you shut your bedroom door behind the two of you. The other villains might be friendly to you, but you only trust Tenko, and to a lesser extent, Kurogiri. Tenko, paradoxically, tenses up. “I don’t need a bed. I sleep standing up.”

“Standing up?” you repeat, baffled. “How?”

“So I don’t destroy it. Once I touch something with all five fingers, it’s gone.” Tenko looks at the bed, almost longingly. “And I don’t have gloves.”

“I’ve got some,” you say. Tenko looks at you, surprised. “I took yours with me when I left last time.”

They’re folded on your dresser. You bring them over, and Tenko pulls them on, a moment before he knocks you backwards onto the bed. You give him a few seconds, then put your forearm against his chest to push him back. “Whatever we’re doing, I’m not doing it in bloody clothes. Let me get changed.”

“Fine,” Tenko complains, and shifts slowly to one side to let you up. At least he doesn’t ask you if he can help.

If you were alone, you’d shower, but you don’t want to risk being that vulnerable with an apartment full of villains. You change into your regular pajamas, the kind you’d wear if you were sleeping by yourself instead of in the same bed as your best friend, who’s a guy, who’s into you. You’re pretty sure Tenko’s not going to try for sex tonight. Not with his level of experience. And not after the day and night he’s had.

When you step out of the bathroom, changed for bed, Tenko’s sitting cross-legged on your bed, pretty clearly lost in thought. The hand is resting on your nightstand. “Hey,” you say, and he looks up.

He looks you over slowly, color coming up in his cheeks with every second that ticks past. Your pajamas aren’t particularly revealing, so you’re not sure what he’s getting excited about – but then his eyes fasten onto something and his gaze sharpens. “What the hell is that?”

You look blankly at him. “On your neck. It’s –” Tenko realizes what it is in the same moment as you realize what he’s looking at. “Fuck. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You were trying to stay quiet. I wanted to help.” You take a step back as Tenko rises from the bed and comes closer. “It’s not a big deal. It just looks –”

Tenko’s fingers brush over it and you wince in spite of yourself. “It looks worse than it is.”

Tenko steps past you, headed for the bathroom. The light switches on, and a moment later you hear him rummaging through the cabinet above the sink. “You’re a nurse. You don’t have band-aids in here?”

“The first-aid kit’s under the sink,” you say. Then something occurs to you. “This isn’t a first-aid thing. It’s just a bruise.”

“You’re not looking at it. I am.” Tenko comes back and drops the first-aid kit on the bed next to you. When you reach for it, he shoves your hand away. You reach for it a second time with the same result. “Stop. I did it, so I’m fixing it. Hold still.”

You sit there, bemused, while Tenko fumbles through the first-aid kit, trying to figure out what to use on a bruise that isn’t bleeding. “You could always kiss it better.”

“That’s lame,” Tenko scoffs. Then he leans in and does it anyway, lightly enough that it doesn’t sting. Your face flushes, a flush that only goes down once he’s come back with what feels like half a tube of Neosporin. When he speaks up again, his voice is quieter. “Why did you let me do that?”

“I didn’t let you,” you say. “Was I supposed to punch you or something?”

“Yeah. Or say ‘hey, don’t fucking bite me’. That would work, too.” Tenko sounds more than a little sarcastic, but it fades fast. “I don’t know how to do any of this. Not that out there –”

He gestures towards the door, the hallway, the League. “Or this in here,” he says, gesturing between the two of you. “You’re going to have to show me how. At first. Then I can pick it up as I go.”

“How to do what? Put a band-aid on a bruise?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tenko says. You figured you probably earned that one, but you’re going to make him say it anyway. “Be – with somebody. Master never – it’s not like I’d ever do what my parents did – or that happy-ending bullshit on TV – I don’t know. And I figure you do, since you’ve got condoms in there.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Are you slut-shaming me?”

“What? No.” Tenko gives you a weird look. “There were, like, two missing. And they’re basically expired.”

“You counted?” You look at Tenko, and he snaps at you to face front again, his face turning red. “Don’t do things like that. It’s weird.”

“Look at that. You already taught me something.”

You’re tempted to retort that Tenko shouldn’t need to be taught not to snoop through your bathroom cabinet, but then you remember that Tenko wasn’t raised like you or anybody else you know. Tenko was raised by villains, and proper socialization doesn’t appear to have been a priority. It hasn’t taught him much about first aid, either. He’s peeling open the biggest band-aid in the kit, touching all kinds of stuff he shouldn’t be touching, before lowering it gingerly down over the bruise. “You’re already good at this part,” you tell him.

“What part is this?”

“Aftercare.”

Tenko’s heard the term before. You can tell by the way his ears turn red. He presses down the bandage at the edges, then sits back. “Next time, tell me not to bite you.”

“See? You can teach me stuff, too.”

Getting into bed is weird. Sure, you both made jokes about sleepovers the last time you saw each other, but this time there’s a bed – and thanks to Tenko’s snooping, you’re both well aware that there’s a mostly-full box of condoms somewhere in the offing. You get under the covers, and after a moment Tenko copies you, fully dressed. He doesn’t stay there too long. “This is too warm.”

“You can sleep outside the blankets. Or take something off.”

The rustling tells you that Tenko’s opted for door number two, most likely with his shirt. “Now what?”

“We sleep,” you say. You decide to save cuddling as a concept for another time. You close your eyes and within seconds, you’re asleep.

You wake up to your phone buzzing on your nightstand, and Tenko tossing and turning in a restless sleep on the far side of the bed. When you flip your phone over you see notifications from the group chat. A whole pileup of them. Hirono and Sho must have finally checked in. You unlock your phone to respond and your heart goes still in your chest.

Kazuo: They didn’t make it.

Kazuo: Sho’s building came down. He died instantly.

Mitsuko: fuck you

Mitsuko: if you don’t quit fucking around

Kazuo: Hirono was trapped in the wreckage. Once she was extricated, she was sent to Yokohama General and died there ninety-eight minutes ago.

Mitsuru: and you’re just telling us now???? what the fuck

Kazuo: We had to notify their families first.

Yoshimi: we’re their family

Yoshimi: what are we going to do

Ryuhei: Sho’s family treated him like SHIT, why do they get to know before we do??

Ryuhei: what the fuck

This isn’t on Kazuo. Whoever else it’s on, it’s not on him, so you wade in, your vocal cords tied in a knot. It’s a good thing this isn’t happening in person. Your friends already saw you cry once this year, and they need someone to be calm. I know Kazuo let us know as soon as he could. And Ryuhei, you’re right – we love them more.

*loved.

You look at Mitsuko’s addition, feeling sick to your stomach. Love. It doesn’t go away. It never goes away. If anyone knows that, you do. We should be together right now. Kazuo, are you okay to host tonight?

Kazuo doesn’t send anything more than a thumbs-up, which is how you know that whatever feelings he has left are hurt by how everyone’s treating him. What’s he been doing all night? Using his quirk. Identifying victims. You’re overcome suddenly with the need to see him, to give him one of those hugs he always stands awkwardly in but never pulls away from. He’s your friend, too. Your friend who’s never hurt you or dragged you into the middle of his disastrous crusade against society. A crusade that just got two of your other friends killed.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and beside you, Tenko stirs, sits up. “What?” he asks, but you don’t answer. Can’t answer. You’re too busy jamming your fist in your mouth, a move you didn’t realize you learned from Tenko until right this second. “Who are you talking to?”

Notificaitons come up – your friends, setting a time to go to Kazuo’s – and you power off your phone and shove it away. You’ll get there early. You need to talk to him first, tell him that you get it as much as anyone can, that you’re sorry he was forced into this position, sorry he was the one who had to say it. Sorry because this is your fault. If you’d told UA ahead of time what was happening, then the student wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Then there would have been no fight in Kamino Ward that led to hundreds, maybe thousands of casualties. If you had just –

“What is it?” Tenko shakes your shoulder. “Hey. Take that out of your mouth and talk to me. What –”

You pry your fist from between your teeth. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you not to say anything.” You can’t sit through his justifications, his arguments for why it’s All Might’s fault, when all you care about is your friends and what happened to them. If they knew what was happening. If they were scared. “Two of my friends died in Kamino Ward tonight. I just found out.”

“I –”

“Don’t say anything,” you say. “Just –”

You turn to face Tenko, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. The two of you have been through the hugging procedure enough times now that he knows what to do in response. He hugs you back, hauls you closer. His skin smells like sweat and smoke, but yours smells like blood, and you know already that you’ll be tearing the sheets off the bed, throwing them away, getting rid of the evidence. But it doesn’t matter how much evidence you get rid of. You can’t hide the truth: This happened tonight because of what Tenko did, and what you didn’t do.

You made this bed, you and Tenko. At least you get to lie in it together.

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