#but i don’t have time most days to do anything but go to work go to school and do my schoolwork

[sleepyjuice]

patience is a virtue - jj maybank

Summary: you finally get on birth control, which means you and jj finally get to raw dog it, whoop

Warnings: 18+!!!!!!!! SMUT, p in v sex (reader is on birth control but theoretically both parties are tested and clean and exclusively sleeping with each other), little bit of praise kink, cream pie, fluff? soft jj <3

wc: 2771 wtf 🫣

A/N: so I decided to start writing again and then this happened lol. I’m probably rusty and this is my first time writing for jj so I hope it’s okay and y’all enjoy!!!<3

Jj had been counting down the days until your doctor's appointment. You were finally getting on birth control, the arm implant, to be specific. You had done your research, as well as an initial consultation with your doctor to go over all of your options and decided that the ‘one and done’ route would be the best for you.

You and jj had been together for a little over a year, using condoms every time you had sex. As much as you both liked the security of you not getting pregnant, you both wanted more, you both craved more. Not only that, but you had irregular and horribly painful periods and when your doctor mentioned that being on birth control could stop your periods, that was more than enough to convince you to take that step.

The day finally came, though, and jj insisted on driving you to your appointment, ignoring your assurance that it was a quick and easy procedure.

“jj, it’s not like I’m getting put under for a major surgery or something, it’ll probably be only like ten minutes. No medicine or anything.” You told him as you buckled your seatbelt. There was no changing his mind.

jj rolled his eyes as he started up the twinkie, already having made arrangements with john b over a week ago to let him borrow the van.

“I know, baby, but this is a big moment, wanna be there for you.” He said with a grin, pulling onto the road and starting towards your doctor’s office.

“Well, I appreciate it. I honestly think you’re more excited than I am.” You giggled, glancing over at your boyfriend as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

“Now what makes you say that?” He teased, knowing damn well he had this appointment marked in his phone calendar and his extra ass even drew a dick and a smiley face on your little desk calendar you had.

You had arrived shortly after, and just as you predicted, the whole appointment only took about ten minutes and was pretty painless. jj waited in the car for you to be done, smiling ecstatically at you once he saw you make your way out the office doors and towards the twinkie.

“How was it? Did it hurt?” He asked as soon as you got into the car, looking at your arm that was now wrapped in a bright pink bandage.

You shook your head, leaning across the seat to softly kiss your boyfriend, his hands finding your hair first before slowly trailing down your body to rub on your thighs as he deepened the kiss. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, so you pulled away with a laugh.

“Nope, nope, don’t even think about it. This thing doesn’t start working for seven days.” You told him, smiling innocently at him as you watched his face drop. You swore all the light in his eyes left his body for a second. He was so dramatic.

You were obviously disappointed too. It would have been nice to go straight home and have what would probably be the best sex of your life right away. But then you would have to go and buy a Plan B, and then this would all be for nothing.

“Now what the fuck? How are they gonna call this shit modern medicine but that shit doesn’t start working for a week?” jj scoffed, one of his hands still resting on your thigh while his other raised to softly graze your bandage, “like, they put a whole ass stick in your arm. What’s it even doing for these seven days? Just sitting in there doing nothing? They really need to make advancements to this shit.” he rambled on, but he couldn’t help but start laughing once you did.

“You are the most dramatic person I have ever met. We just gotta wait it out. Although, with all this anticipation, hopefully you can last more than a minute.” You mumbled the last part, your gaze leaving jj’s as you buckled your seatbelt, knowing he would start huffing over your comment.

And that he did, huffing as he started the car, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s — shut the fuck up. Don’t act like this won’t be torture for you, too.” He mumbled back, backing out of the parking lot and heading towards the chateau.

It had been a long week since your appointment. You and jj had never gone this long without having sex. You could have still used a condom in the meantime, but after a conversation in bed the first night, you had both decided to wait until you could do it raw for the first time. You were struggling, to say the least, but you had more composure than jj did all week.

He wasn’t making it easy though. The way he cuddled against you in bed, his hard dick pressing into your lower back made you crave the feeling of him inside of you. You almost caved multiple times every time he touched you, you just wanted more. But he respected your agreement, even though it was just as torturous for him. Touching your skin, seeing the way the bottom of your ass cheeks stuck out of the bottom of your shorts, all he wanted to do was rip your clothes off and bury himself inside of you. But he could wait, it would be worth it.

It couldn’t have been more perfect timing. Day seven had finally come around and your beautiful and wonderful friends all happened to have plans, which meant you and jj had the chateau to yourselves. It truly felt like a gift from god.

It was late morning, the soft glow of the sun peaking through the sheer blinds of the bedroom jj had made his own had woken you from your sleep. jj was still sleeping soundly next to you, his face pressed against your neck, an arm draped firmly across your waist.

“jay,” you whispered, softly rubbing circles on the back of his neck, your face being close enough to leave soft kisses in his messy blonde hair.

“mm- oh, fuck,” jj rasped, quickly gaining consciousness as he realized it was finally morning. He was so excited to sleep last night because it meant the next day would come quicker. It was like a kid on Christmas Eve. “it’s time?” He lifted his head from your neck, rolling himself over so he was on top of you, his hands holding himself up above your head on the pillow.

“It’s time,” you giggled, reaching up to cup his cheeks, “I’m done being patient. Need you inside me.” You whispered, and at that, jj leaned down, connecting your lips. He wasn’t completely rough, but he wasn’t gentle, and god did you miss this.

Your lips didn’t part from one another as his hands moved their way down your body. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt that clad your body, yet another thing making him absolutely feral.

You disconnected to breathe, and so that he could lift your shirt above your head, discarding it on the cluttered floor. You looked up at him, now only in your panties, finding that familiar comfort that lived in those beautiful blue eyes of his.

“Fuck, missed seeing you like this, baby.” He panted, his breath hot on your skin as he lowered his mouth down to your tits, his tongue circling your sensitive nipple as you gasped, reaching up to entangle your fingers in his hair.

He soon took your whole nipple in his mouth, humming in satisfaction against the warm skin, while also lowering his body to grind his boxer clad dick against your wet center. He was achingly hard, no doubt his boxers were already stained with the precum that was eagerly leaking out of his sensitive tip.

You whimpered softly as he grazed his teeth against your nipple as he sucked sloppily, the feeling of his mouth on you making your center pulsate harder.

“jj, need you, please..” you whined, grinding your hips up against his dick, the fabric beneath the two of you was too much. You needed him.

“Okay, baby, okay,” he breathed, pulling his mouth off of your nipple with a pop, leaving the skin red and wet, “need to taste you first.” He added before scooting down further on the bed, giving himself enough room to pull his shirt over his head and discard it with yours.

He quickly repositioned himself in front of your legs, his ring clad fingers cold on your skin as he pushed your knees apart, sliding his hands up your thighs as he spread your legs. He was met with your underwear which you could feel was soaked, and you were sure it was quite the sight for him to see.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re soaked.” He hummed, palming his hands up and down your thighs until he reached the waistband of your underwear, his fingers not hesitating to pull the fabric down your legs and off of your body completely.

“There she is,” jj smiled at the sight of your pussy before him, running a finger through your wet folds, circling your entrance and sliding it back up to rub torturously slow circles against your clit. He was acting as though your pussy was his best friend who he hadn’t seen in months. Again, he was dramatic.

“Please, jay, fuck, you — you can’t torture me now, ‘s been way too long.” You whined, your eyes shutting for a moment as you clenched around nothing, his touches making your veins feel like fire. You needed something.

“M’kay, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just missed this. Don’t like not having you for so long.” He finally gave in, lowering his head to finally take you in his mouth, his tongue flicking quickly against your clit as his wet lips closed around it, sucking the sensitive bud in his warm mouth.

You couldn’t hold back the moans that fell from your lips, the feeling of his mouth finally on you mixed with the soft breaths leaving his nose that was pressed against your pelvic bone was everything.

“That’s right, that’s good, yeah? Just what you needed?” He pulled back for only a moment to glance up at you as you nodded quickly in response before his middle finger teased your wet entrance. Without another word, he pushed his finger inside of you, bringing his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he began pumping his finger inside of your tight pussy, not missing the sweet gasp that left your parted lips.

He got a rhythm going as he always did, eventually adding his index finger, stretching your tight walls around his fingers as his mouth moved sloppily against your clit. It was a wet mess already, his chin and fingers completely soaked with your juices, the sound of your moans and his soft praises filled the room as he quickened his pace, bringing you closer to your high.

“I’m close, fuck me, I’m gonna come-“

It took only a few more pumps from jj, the way he curled his fingers perfectly, not missing a beat as your stomach tightened before contracting, your eyes squeezing shut as you moaned loudly, reaching forward again to grip tightly onto your boyfriends hair, pulling rather hard as your orgasm took over your body.

Your pussy clenched around his fingers as he pulled them out, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean as he grinned lovingly at you.

“That’s good, baby, you’re so good for me,” he cooed, leaning down once again to press a sweet kiss onto your sensitive clit, making your breath hitch as you came down from your high. “You ready for me now? Been dreaming of this since I met you.” jj studied your face for any sign of hesitation, brushing a loose strand of hair that had fallen by your eyes.

“I’m ready, please, need to feel you.” You responded rather quickly, wholeheartedly enjoying the foreplay, but this is what you had been waiting for, you were ready to feel him fully.

“I got you, I got you…” he gave a quick kiss to your lips before sitting up and removing his boxers. His cock sprung free, happily unrestricted now, his tip red and swollen, precum now leaking out down his shaft.

You watched as he gave himself a few quick pumps, lubricating himself with his precum before positioning his cock in front of your pussy, gathering your wetness onto his tip before lining himself up with your entrance.

One hand held his cock as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, the other holding your bare waist. It was immediate euphoria for the both of you. You both had no idea what utter pleasure had been beneath the thin condom you had grown so accustomed to.

jj paused once he bottomed out, his eyes meeting yours as you nodded profusely for him to keep going. He needed a second, your joke about him not lasting was now fresh on his mind, but he was determined to make this last for the both of you, and he would be damned if he didn’t give you at least one more orgasm.

“Fuck me, Y/N, holy shiiitt you feel so perfect. So perfect for me. Pussy was made for me.” He groaned, taking a deep and shaky breath before he felt like he could begin moving again.

And so he did, his thick cock pushing in and out of you as you desperately reached up to grab the back of his neck, your fingernails digging into the soft skin making his little curses and moans grow louder.

Sex had never felt this good before, no barriers at all, just jj, completely jj. Watching his eyebrows furrow in pure and utter pleasure as his lips parted was sending your stomach into a frenzy and realistically you both knew that this first time going raw wouldn’t last too much longer, but that was okay.

“Love you, love you, feels so good, just— fuck, harder, please, I’m close.” You whined, your pussy clenching around jj’s cock as he quickened his pace, his hand that was holding your waist now moving down to rub at your clit, knowing that was going to do it for you.

“C’mon, baby, let go, yeah? Come for me, fuck — love you so much, so so good..” he praised, his cock hitting your sweet spot so perfectly while his fingers worked tirelessly against your clit, and that was all it took for your orgasm to hit you at full force, showing no mercy as your back arched, your fingers digging even deeper into your boyfriend’s skin. You didn’t even know what words left your mouth as you rode out your high, but you couldn’t care less.

jj’s gaze left your eyes as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, juices everywhere, no doubt leaving a mess on the sheets. But the sight of that alone, mixed with the euphoria of being inside of you completely raw, not to mention the way your pussy clenched repeatedly around his cock, that was it for him. He pushed in one last time, his tip hitting deep inside of you as he came, truly inside of you for the first time. Thick spurts of come shot into you as he completely lost his composure, his arms unable to hold him up any longer, collapsing against your bare chest.

“My baby, god, fuck, I love you so much, you’re… ahh, fuck.” jj moaned one last time, needing a moment to catch his breath before he could move again. What felt like forever was only a few seconds, however, and he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you, not missing the way you winced at not only the sensitivity but the loss of fullness.

Taking a breath, jj leaned over the side of the bed to grab his t-shirt, gently wiping up his mess that was now spilling out of you. He made a mental note to put a towel down next time, might save a load of laundry, and a shirt.

“You did so good, baby. I’ve never felt so good in my fucking life.” He kissed your swollen lips once he finished wiping you up, smiling tiredly at your sweet post orgasm face, cheeks pink with a small but satisfied little smile on your lips.

“Yeah, no, that was well worth the wait.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #pls be nice I’m fragile thank u

[pinkyqil]

Can u please consider writing for Elisabeth terland? I don’t have any prompt in mind, any thing could work really.

Late night surprise // Elisabeth terland x r

You loved your girlfriend and everything about her she was one of the kindest people you ever meet. and you wouldn't trade her love for anything else.

Today was a special day for you both. It was your second anniversary of being with each other.

and you were very excited to spend it with elisa. you spent the whole day tiding up your shared apartment everything was cleaned down.

once you had finished you started making a gourmet meal for both of you. as tonight was going to be extra special.by the time you finished preparing dinner. elisa was meant to be here by now but she hadn't arrived yet with no avail.

You decided to wait for her as there was stil plenty of time going.

She couldn't have forgotten as that was what you guys talked about the most of the time you spent together and you were getting quite disappointed as it late and rain started pouring.

You decide to just eat and wacht a movie without elisa. cause it seems like she had other important stuff to do than to be with her girlfriend.

but what you didn't know was that she got caught up in the rain trying to pick out some flowers and gifts that she got for you as a little surprise.

Elisa finally got home around ten and to say you where pissed off would be an understatement. You felt like ripping out every single bone in her body.

"Elisabeth terland- you said before getting caught off.

"Before you say anything just know that I wanted to get you a few things before and didn't mean to get home late and on my way back home the storm just got worse". she told before handing you a bouquet of roses that was drenched along with a few shopping bags.

"Do you forgive me".

"Oh baby I can't be mad at you now".

"Now here's my surprise for you". You told her as you grabbed a box placing it in her hands.

"should I be scared". She asked you as she slowly opened the box.

"Depends".

"No way you got to be joking". Excitement filled her voice

"I'm not playing with you elisa". you told her

"Where going to be moms". she said as she pulled you into a hug ignoring how wet she already was.

"Yes we are I got the test results last week and decided it would be a good surprise".

"You're the best". She told you still not letting go of your body.

"I can't believe where going to be moms".

"We are so please let go of me cause your body really wet and cold baby". You told her

"Of course". She said leaving a kiss on your lips as she entered your shared bathroom.

guess some things do take time until you can find out.

#Elisabeth terland #Elisabeth terland imagine #elisabeth terland x reader #norwnt x reader #norwnt imagine #norwnt #woso fic #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso oneshot #woso blurbs #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso appreciation #woso fluff #woso drama #woso #woso couples #pinkyqilfic #woso community #women's football

[endemise]

long ramble, progress update, & potential release timeframe below:

hii! i got a lot of coding done and i think im finally satisfied with how the game looks (for now…)

here are some screenshots of what some of it will look like on mobile!

the friendship and romance levels shown in the relationship menu are just random as is the blurb for Aesop’s thoughts, they’re just for the example! (also characters thoughts are hidden by default, you click to reveal, then hide, them)

the stat bars were giving me hell but i finally figured them out with the the help of some forums and tumblr posts

i liked how in when twilight strikes by evertidings, the menu buttons (i.e. profile, stats, relationships) are listed at the top of the page so i took inspiration from that! and the many IFs that have a splash (?) screen at the beginning with the title

compared to when i started using twine (i think august 2023 was the first time i gave it a try), i’ve learned so much and there’s still so much to learn as well, i think coding has become my favorite part (making things looks pretty hehe)(with the help of amazing templates & ppl smarter than me, they do the heavy lifting fr)

with all the coding done (appearance wise) it’s lock in time for the revised prologue and chapter 1

the prologue has undergone a fair bit of change with the help of feedback & i’ve (hopefully) better established the setting and story.

some things that have changed besides wording and sentence structure, etc.: being able to choose what you did as a job (ex. working at the family inn) and meeting a new character (more like an old friend?)(no spoilers:))

some things i’ve been considering (SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CH.1 MAYBE): merging the revised prologue and chapter 1 into just the prologue bc chapter 1 differs a bit from the other chapters, but then the prologue would maybe be too strange timeframe wise? it’s a time skip after the events of the prologue (is that considered a spoiler, i don’t think so but???) that connects to the next chapters so maybe it’d just be better as its own chapter? or dropping the revised prologue by itself along with the updated ui/appearance then chapter 1 sometime after, or dropping the revised prologue and chapter 1 together, idk these are all just ideas i’ve been thinking about maybe i’ll do a poll

if you have anything you’d like to see, for example a specific job your MC worked, certain personality traits, or something like that, feel free to let me know & i’ll take them into consideration! i think now is the best time to add things bc it’s early development days & it’ll be easier to do so now than later

i’ve also decided to lean a little more into the supernatural aspect which i’m excited for (one specific thing really, i can’t wait to get to it🤭) the story’s world itself is fairly grounded in reality (as in the supernatural is unknown to most) but i’m looking forward to exploring it more

what you’re probably reading this for: depending on how i end up going about the prologue-chapter 1 merge decision & whether anything is added from requests/feedback, i’m aiming for a june release, july at the latest (fingers crossed). now that the appearance and function coding is complete (besides stat/choice tracking & other story related things), finishing the writing and coding it in is all that’s left

my schedule has done a 180 & some things are less than ideal at moment but it should all (hopefully) go smoothly from here! should anything change, i’ll let you all know

anyways, that’s all i have to say for now! ty for being patient & for reading this mess, i appreciate you all :)

#✻ — e talks #✻ — coding ramble #✻ — progress update #(albeit a messy one) #the fall of house black #the fall of house black if #tfohb if #if wip #interactive fiction

[kinardscoffee]

I have a few comments and questions for you! All good I promise! :)

1. First of all I love your page! I joined this fandom about a month ago and I’ve followed some pages and they are so toxic if you don’t follow what they are pushing (both ships)

2. The access Hollywood interview. There wasn’t a real reason for it tbt (I’m obviously grateful for it) they couldn’t spoil anything coming up in the final two episodes. If they were doing a PR thing why not do an interview after the first kiss? Personally, the real reason for the interview was to promote Lou joining the show in season 8. However not officially announced yet. The only awkward part was when they brought up Lou’s dad and Oliver stepping in to ease the tension! Oliver is such a good person!

3. Tim Minear. I’m pretty sure it was said in multiple interviews from different cast members that he specifically reached out to Lou to come back for bucks bisexual awakening. Clearly Tim truly believes in Lou and wanted him to join the show again. If he didn’t believe in Lou, tim and the show could have just hired another actor for those scenes and introduced the storyline.

4. Lou being included on posts on the official IG page. The video posted today it could have just been the cast who has been on the show from the beginning. Also why follow Lou if he was going to be gone after a few episodes? From what I’ve seen and read that page never followed any of bucks love interests. So it’s a good sign!!

Awww, thank you! And welcome to the fandom! You have to be careful with some blogs, I'm not sure why some people here seem so pushy, but, eh, to each their own, I suppose.

And I agree with you about the access interview! I also think it was to help ease Lou into interviews. He doesn't seem to do very many, and it's pretty clear our chaotic yapper has had the "PR talk" so putting him in an interview with Oliver, who is his onscreen LI plus very well trained in PR, was the perfect scenario for him.

I expect to see more interviews with Oliver and Lou in the future.

And yesss! Tim did reach out to Lou specifically for this storyline. Tim even told Lou that he was a fan of his! Here's an excerpt from a Lou interview:

And to your last point... yep yes YEAH!

The 911 on ABC Instagram page follows him, as does Jihane, who works in the camera department, and she's responsible for most of the bts content we get!

(Also, you sent this a few days ago and last night, we got ANOTHER cast video with Lou included... soooo yep.)

Long story, short... Lou is here to stay for an extended amount of time. 🩵

#911 abc #bucktommy #911 fandom #tommy kinard #lou ferrigno jr #anon 🩵

[alphajocklover]

Hello, basic 40 year old flabby, short, wimpy nerd nerd here. Been trying and failing to get fit and transform into a stud since I've been thirteen to no avail. Pretty much decided that that the project is genetic. I don't suppose you can genetically graft me to a hypermasculine dad or maybe a hypermasculine brother so puberty could have dealt me a way different hand?

Huh. I’ll admit, I’ve never really done anything like that before. I mean, I’ve talked about changes that alter someone’s past in previous post, and I performed one myself using time travel (I fucking hate time travel), but what’s you’re asking is so much more intense. You want me to make it so that you grew up with a super manly dad or brother. You want me to make it so your genetics are different, your history is different, so that you’re basically an entirely different person. I’m not sure I’ve ever altered anyone that much before. But… I’m willing to give it a try.

You’re an only child right? And you never knew your dad? Raised only by your mom? Good, that will make this much easier. Now, I should warn you that we’re going to have to be very careful. We’re going to use an artifact that my Uncle left to me. I’ve mentioned him before. I really should tell you all about him one day. Anyways, what we’re using to change you might not look like much, but… it’s very powerful. We need to use it carefully.

Ok, I know what you’re thinking. It’s a little statue of a metal tree. Yes I know I sound crazy but in a world with time travel, an app that turns people into meatheads, and reflections that can swap places with the person they’re reflecting, I think you can give me the benefit of the doubt. The little statuette doesn’t look like much, but it’s one of the most dangerous magic items I own. It’s known as the Family Tree, and it allows the user to, well, alter their family tree. Literally. All you have to do is press your thumb to the wooden base, and the tree grows and changes until it resembles your own family tree, complete with pictures. Then it’s as simple as moving some things around, or adding a picture to the tree. So, let’s get to work.

You asked for a super manly dad, or a super manly brother. But since we’re already changing your family, why not give you both? First let’s change out your deadbeat dad for someone a little more… impressive. A real man, a man’s man, one so muscular and sexy that if he walked out on your mom you’d still thank him for the amazing genetics. But don’t worry, your new dad isn’t going to walk out like the old one. He stayed with your mom (who as it turns out is a real babe with the right man encouraging her), and raised you to be just like him. He taught you how to play sports, how to workout, how to shave your hairy face, even how to make a girl putty in your hands. You were always especially talented at that last one. You’re starting to remember it aren’t you? Everything your dad taught you, how far you pushed yourself because you wanted to make him proud. You especially remember him showing him how to throw a football. In this world you were a natural.

Next is your brother. I don’t wanna give away your identity, or his, so let’s call him Brad. He’s actually your younger brother, not your older brother. You were the one who taught him how to be a man, how to be a stud, and in doing so, became an even better one yourself. As reality changes you remember growing up with him, teaching him the ropes, playing and working out with him. You even remember the girls you’d sometimes fuck together. You remember the first time you and him spitroasted a bimbo, how hot the girl looked and how proud and manly your brother was.

But let’s move on to you. In this life you took after your dad and your little brother, being a natural stud. You were a strong kid, an active kid, but puberty hit you like a dump truck. You shot up, your shoulders widened, and you gained an almost obscene amount of muscle and hair. You’ve got a different personality too. Cocky and confident, a constant flirt and a total bro. You thought you’d never settle down, fucking a different girl every night. Until… you met your wife. Yes, in this world you have a wife. She’s a bit of a bimbo, but the kindest person you’ve ever met. She enchanted you, and soon… while, you were married, and have stayed married for almost 20 years.

You’ve changed your past, your future, and everything about yourself. You’re finally the man you always wanted to be… but your kids are really the lucky ones. They’ve got awesome genetics, killer bodies, and a great dad to show them how to use it, just like how you did growing up.

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #reality change #dilf tf

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Which joestar do you think would be the worst yandere? And why

Pick your poison! I like to think the Joestar’s all have their little traits that shine the most based on their personality (so whose the worst can depend on what you’re uncomfortable with). Going to do just the og verse jojo’s for this 1-6.

Jonathan : Very sweet almost intoxicatingly so, but he tends to end up a bit overprotective/just a bit babying. Insisting he does things for you, if you have some issue somewhere else? Why not let him resolve it. Don’t fret over too much he has the means to take care of you. There might be a time or two your room might be locked if you’re a little more stubborn than usual

Joseph: What is this thing called “personal space” ? It almost sounds like a foreign language to this man. He totally didn’t mess certain things up so you happen to meet up with him. Not sure why your date stood you up? He couldn’t possibly give an answer other than they’re not worth your time since they didn’t bother showing up. He should take you to this great place he loves going to after a long day.

Jotaro: Stalking type usually, and mows past anything that he might feel gets in the way of you and himself. He’s used to punks, so he’s not afraid to pummel someone if they don’t get the message to scram. When it comes to classes, he’s glancing at you every so often, maybe there’s a “doodle” or two in his notebook. Need to walk somewhere? He’ll walk with you. If you’re hiding out to be alone, he ends up finding you. You’re probably the reason he learns any building’s layout in the first place. Clubs or class cleaning doesn’t stop Jotaro either, he’ll wait as long as it takes. Being sick at home doesn’t stop him either, usually there’s some kind of hot soup/dish that’s good to eat while sick sitting in your room somehow. (Not to mention potential kidnapping later down the line if you’re not really cooperating)

Later Parts like 4 and 6, he’s pretty similar in dropping you off things even if you never once told him your address. (He has a decent memory of these things). Similarly Jotaro has any phone numbers you have in his contacts, and he’ll have a talk personally with anyone that he isn’t fond of approaching you. He tends to have you in the back of his mind while out on his studies, or writing a paper, and yet again drawings somewhere he’s compelled to place them. Every so often he checks in on you (whether you want this or not doesn’t matter). Broken down car? It’s either replaced swiftly or he’s driving you places himself. Maybe he somehow (forces) nudges you to live with him.

Josuke : He’s head over heels for you, and similar to Joseph he’s going to take any opportunity to squeeze himself into your life. He just so happens to have some leftover lunch from that place you like? You looked sad when they had sold out of your favorite meal there, so why doesn’t he help with that? Speaking of, maybe your eyes are drifting somewhere else. He steals any potential love letters to a crush and rewrites them, making it look like you’re confessing to him. He may also leave one of your favorite treats you like in its place. It’s an enigma to you how he found that out.

Giorno : He’s the don of the Italian mafia, he’s almost constantly worried about you. So if he has eyes on you, it’s almost immediate you lose autonomy whether born in Italy or a tourist. He’s clever in his ways to trap you, whether you’re resistant or not doesn’t matter. (he does think you’re cute with a strong head on your shoulders). There’s some of that charisma he possess all the same just like his father. Even if it doesn’t work on you, it makes others around you to trap you easily. Giorno likes to think he gives you a lot of leeway with voluntarily coming to him. He’ll meet you casually in coffee shops or wherever you’re willing to shop at. The bill is covered without you having to say a word. Any cash you used is miraculously brought back to you somehow. The blond isn’t afraid to get his hands a little dirty however when it comes to you. If he has to take something for you to step into his arms (whether it’s your ability to walk around outside or someone close to you) he’ll do whatever it takes.

Jolyne : Sure she stalks somewhat, but like her father she can be bold in taking care of the competition. She’s not afraid to hold your hand or finding a way for you two to do so. Eavesdropping is something she does occasionally, and anyone that wants to stomp on your heart is going to get stomped themselves. She does delay you with stone free (or outright captures you) if Jolyne doesn’t want you to leave. It’s impossible to shake her off, no matter what you try to do. Of course she made a copy of your apartment key, what if there’s an emergency? Maybe she wanted to make you breakfast. Huh? What do you mean she can’t just walk in unannounced? Don’t be ridiculous.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere jjba #yandere jjba imagines #yandere jjba x reader #jjba imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere jotaro kujo #yandere jonathan joestar #yandere joseph joestar #yandere josuke higashikata #yandere giorno giovanna

[skxnnycig]

Tips & tricks✍🏻

Here is some tips i have found helpfull. Please be careful and listen to your body etc.

1. Melatonin for better sleep. Helps you with night cravings and helps avoiding binges at night. If you get nigthmares from it like i do, i suggest you to take only litte of it and some nighttime tea. (No caffeine)

2. Try to always eat warm soups. They really fill you up. If soups aren’t your thing, try very low calorie noodles. Also always drink the warm water that you boil them up with, makes you full fast. (Low calorie noodles = rice noodles example)

3. Try keeping yourself busy. tiktok etc. might keep you busy for an while but you are most likely to eat/overeat/b!nge at somepoint. Cleaning your house or familys house works like a charm for me.

4. If you hate sports or intense activity, go for an long walk. If you prefer staying inside do some indoor small workouts through out the day. (Or if you are able buy a walking mat or treadmill). But i strongly advise going outside for a walk cause it helps with mental health burdens like anxiety. (Even tho it doesn’t feel like it really does, i know believe me)

5. If you smoke, go outside for an walk with your cigs. You get some cardio and ease the hunger with excercising and cigs. I do not suggest anyone to start smoking, its not worth it but if you do, do it while walking.

6. Coffee is a hunger suppressant. Drink lots of coffee but try not drink any couple hours before planning to go to bed. Then you have even more trouble sleeping and might end up bing!ng. (If coffee isn’t your vibe, LOTS OF TEA)

7. It is HARD to avoid EATING if you live with your family or visit them very often. If you struggle saying no or you are forced to eat, try the cup method. If you don’t know it already i suggest you to learn how to do it by yourself alone to the point you can do it unnoticiable. Basically take a cup (not see trough one) and fill it with water. Drink it out fully or only a half whilist dinner. Then start sp!tting the food you have to eat in it slowly. If you have a see through cup, just try to tell people the food is so good and only eat some of it. After that say that you are full and will save it for later.

8. Avoid emotional eating if it has clearly advantage of you. Instead overeating while being flustered with all kinds of emotions, try to understand your feelings. Example ask yourself: ”why do i feel like this?”, ”Do i really need to feel this way over something?”, ”what i can do to avoid feeling like this in the future?” And literally unpack the emotions that you are feeling instead of numbing them with food. Helps a lot when you just stop and think.

If you feel so down and annoyed because you blood sugar is down, allow yourself to have something low cal. Fruit, one piece of candy or anything, you name it.

9. Minimize social pressure for eating. This is a hard one if you have lot of friends who like spending time in restaurants or etc. Easiest way is that YOU come up forward with ideas what to do together, this will give them a thought of doing something else than eating and most likely they will offer ideas that don’t involve eating.

(Or you could just go full bezerk and isolate, but i don’t recomend it. Made me loose my social skills and gave me anxiety)

10. You probably have heard about the tapping method. It has been getting a lot of popularity on tiktok. Basically you just tap your face and body on certain places and it might help you with cravings, overeating and anxiety. If i can be honest didn’t work the best for me but give it a shot, might work for you.

11. Now in summer to avoid passing out (my fav hobby lmao), drink lots of water with salt. Every bottle of water i mix it with just a pinch of salt to keep me from passing out. You can buy powered electrolytes to mix with your water too. I prefer just the salt to cause it’s cheaper and i am a cheapskate.

12. Form rituals or strict routines but learn how to adjust them if necessary. This is HIGLY IMPORTANT cause if you freak out at family dinner or etc. Over calories or not having something that you usually have for dinner will cause suspicion. That can slow you progress and make it even harder. By routines or rituals i mean by just eating certain foods. Those are yous safe foods and its just makes life easier if you always know what to buy from the store and what you will eat. Also saves time.

13. It is true that if you feel shit = you eat shit. Do lots of selfcare and b!inging isn’t selfcare remember that. Do something that you enjoy to make you feel good. You are most likely to stick on your diet if you are not feeling upset. Do your hair, dye your hair, do your nails, whatever that makes you feel apprieciated. Take care of yourself cause you are on right path to achieving something.

14. If you are faced with a situation that you don’t know how many calories are in your food. Do not panic, handle it in a right way. My personal tip is to always go higher on the calories you assume is in that food. Many foods have huge ammounts of hidden calories. This is how you are more likely to be close of guessing the calories you are eating and can make adjustments for that intake in the future. (Usually the next day, do a 24 hour fast exmp.)

15. If you feel like nothing is working and the weight isn’t coming off, do a detox. Or maybe try laxatives, you might be constipated. If the laxatives works, good but do not abuse them or you will fuck up your natural metabolism. Not fun, i promise you.

16. NOT RECOMMENDED but in a case of emergency only. If you have b!nged and you feel shit, try p!rging. But please try to do it in a way that you don’t be too rough for your body. Drink lots of water FAST and do your thing. If its hard for you to p!!rge, don’t over do it. Give yourself a break and be wiser next time. To help with the emotional rollercoaster after overeating do something to distract yourself. Plan your next day in a way that you can minimize the damage from tha calories and avoid doing it a again.

17. Motivation & disicpline. This is also important but first look it up to know the difference between them to understand them and yourself better. My advice is to really think ”why”, ”how”, ”what for” and ”what after”. I suggest you to forget other people, you are doing this for YOURSELF and not for others. I know it is TEMPTING to think that ”omg when they see me when im at my goal weight, they go crazyy!!” But for real that won’t keep your motivation spike up for too long. This is new you & this is for you. Work on your discipline too by doing even small things you promised to do even tho you didn’t necessarily want to or feel like it.

18. To help with cravings eat ice cubes, warm soups, drink lots of warm water, fruits, bubblegum. Nicotine, caffeine etc. Or if you are gonna eat a full meal, prepare it yourself. While you are cooking the craving might go off and you can save the food or if it doesn’t you will eat something that you know how much calories it has.

19. Stomach growling, annoying asf. Try eating bites of ginger and drink lots of water. You can also mix them together if you like. Bubblegum doen’t help me sadly and just gives me stomach ache so thats why i like ginger and water. Energy drinks & coffee works too. To avoid embarassing moments carry a low cal protein bar always with you. For me they work fast and stops the growling. Try different options beforehand at home for a fast snack and see whats works for you the best.

20. Fat burners might give you a boost. They have lots of side effects including: damaging your liver, giving stomach pains etc. So be carefull if using them. There are some options of fat burners that reduce your appetite too. If you can’t use them or buy them, try other alternatives for fat burning. Ginger, ashagwanda, tea, coffee, berries, bell pepper, cinnamon, spicy foods, protein powder & drinks (keep them low cal tho) and oats.

🫶🏻 - Be safe yall & enjoy your day, you are going forward - 🫶🏻

Edit: lmao sorry for bad writing, i have dyslexia 💀

#4norexla #4nerex1a #@na vent #@na motivation #@nor3×14 #thinspø #@n@ buddy #@n@ diary #@na rules #ed relapse #ed but not ed sheeran #tw ed sheeran #tw ed but not sheeran #ed ednotsheeran restriction #i need to lose so much weight #@nor3xia #@tw edd #@na buddy #@n@ tips #light as a feather #light as a 🪶 #💡as a 🪶 #💡 as a feather #fat piggy

[thatbanditqueen]

Louisiana Saturday Night, a new fic.....

I have been working on a new WIP set at the Louisiana Hayride from 1954 - 1956, and will probably post chapter one in the next few days. It starts in October 1954, when 19 year-old Elvis had never played outside the small clubs of Memphis, except for that once. At the Opry. And that didn't go too well.

Now he faces his biggest audience ever at the Lousiana Hay Ride: over three thousand people in-person (a thousand more than the Opry!) and millions over the radio. He has only recorded two singles, never been away from home much or gone beyond second base with a girl, and doesn't know much about life as a touring musician. But he's eager to learn and grab every opportunity he can with those long, inexperienced slender fingers.

This fic will have my usual blend of poorly executed dry humor, fluff, smut and angst.

please comment or reblog if you want to be tagged - here is a preview.

Here is a snippet from Chapter 1: Hot Wax

Approximately 9:15 p.m.

Saturday, October 16, 1954

The Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, Louisiana

The first time she saw Elvis up close he was hunched over the sink tapping his fingers along the porcelain rim. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, he reminded Freddie of a bottle rocket about to blow. She smiled at the thought of him bursting through the ceiling like a comic book hero, his oversized sports coat trailing behind him like a long pink cape.

She wasn’t sure if he was recovering from his first set or talking himself into the second, but what she did know was that this kid was as green as they came. Horace had been reading Pappy the riot act yesterday when she walked by his office, yelling at him for booking “some hillbilly who just fell off the turnip truck, cuz Sam Philips brings you a bottle of Jack every time he comes through town.”  The audience out there had been so taken aback by his country bop they’d forgotten to clap, and she doubted Pappy would be allowed to invite him back.

As she watched the show up in the control booth, Freddie had wondered if Elvis’ performance had gone over better with the radio listeners who hadn’t had to watch his stilted, awkward movements on stage. There was a ragged emotional tenor to his voice, and now that she was standing right in front of him she had to admit he had a dark, sultry allure that was strikingly different from all these other boys doing their best Gene Autry impression.

But geez, now the poor kid began to mutter into his reflection and she hoped he wouldn’t cry. Freddie barely knew how to deal with the girls she found balling in the bathroom. 

“Um, hey there. You ok?”

Elvis jerked around and ran his hand through his sopping wet hair and straightened up, stiff like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Most folks are nervous their first time. That’s a big crowd.”

“Don’t you worry about me, honey, I ain’t nervous.” He looked her over, a sneer forming at his mouth. “Didn’t you heard the man? I’m the hottest thing on wax. Mr. Logan just asked me to play a second set.”

“Oh - uh - well, I guess I was wrong.”

“MMhmmm. Just getting geared up to go back on stage.” He settled his hands at his waist and shot her a sulky fierce glower, then waggled his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Oh, well that's good. Maybe you can answer something for me then.”

“Anything baby.” 

He softened and bit his lip, giving her what she took to be his version of a come hither look. He looked like he was fighting back a sneeze and Freddie had to swallow her laughter. 

“Why are you in the Ladies’ Powder Room?”

Elvis paused and looked down for a beat as he shook his head and laughed.

She nodded toward the shelf of perfume bottles, powders and the basket of dainty pink sanitary napkin boxes with Kotex printed along the sides.

He let out a low whistle and rubbed his mouth.

“Man o man, I guess you got me, might be jus a lil nervous. I ‘spose I really weren’t watching were I was going, huh?”

Freddie couldn’t help the way she dumbly smiled back, noticing up close how long and thick his eyelashes were as he looked down at her through them. She suddenly had the urge to take his hand and lead him to the green room where she could make him a hot cup of tea and comfort him and give him all the advice she had from her four years of working at KWKH. But instead she took a deep breath and fidgeted with her cardigan.

“I won't tell anyone you were in here. It can be our secret."

other fic taglist - i won't tag you again on this unless you comment you want to be tagged:

@whositmcwhatsit

@from-memphis-with-love

@vintageshanny

@shakerattlescroll

@peskybedtime

@be-my-ally

@ellie-24

@missmaywemeetagain

@powerofelvis

@arrolyn1114

@lookingforrainbows

@eliseinmemphis

@kingdomforapony

@everythingelvispresley

@richardslady121

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@notstefaniepresley

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@j-v-9-2

@beeandheroddobsessions

@doll-elvis

@burningloverdoll

@ohjustpeachy1

@everythingelvispresley

@velvetelvis

@horror-movieshoes

@ooihcnoiwlerh

@moonchild-daniella

@lialocklear

@obsessionisthecure

@tacozebra051

@elvispresleywife

@bisexualwvtson

@father-of-2cats

@lillypink

@godlypresley

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@misspresley

@daffieapple

@louisejoy86

@burningloverdoll

@stargirllily19

@amydarcimarie

@elvisrealgf

@littlehoneyposts

@eapep

@stylespresleyhearted

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #ok not right away but there will be smut #the louisiana hayride #louisiana saturday night #1954 elvis #baby elvis #banditqueenwrites

[residentflamingo]

Twice Members' Favorite Places to Kiss You

Twice x fem! reader

Warnings: so sweet you’ll get a toothache <3

A/N: I’ve been in a really bad writing slump lately, so that is the main reason why I have not been posting at all. And school has also been kicking me in the ass 💀✌️ I have so many good drafts I want to share with you guys, but my motivation has been at 0% for a while. But lately I have been getting a lot better, so more works are expected to come soon! Which also means I will be opening back up my requests box :D Someone did request me to write something a long time ago, but I have been steadily working on it over time. It’s got about 5,000 words on it, so as long as my lazy ass doesn’t put off to writing it, that draft will be coming out soon as well. Thank you to all of you lovely people who have been patient, and also the ones that have been liking my posts. You guys are phenomenal and I love and appreciate all of you ❤️

Nayeon

Lips ♡

A very standard one, but well suitable for her

She loves how soft and plump your lips are

Like Sana, Nayeon is a very affectionate person

So after she’s had a loooong day at the studio, all she wants to do is give you some repetitive and silly kisses that end up in slow and passionate ones

(Sometimes she’ll even bite your lip if she’s feeling a little bit frisky that night…)

“Oh my gosh I missed you so much Y/N. You won’t believe how many new dance routines they made us learn today.”

Her favorite kinds of kisses are good luck kisses and goodnight kisses <3

(And the passionate ones of course ;)

Nayeon loves how sweet it feels to be able to show her love through a kiss, and be able to feel your soft lips in the process

Kissing your lips make her feel grounded, and wanting nothing more than to spend every moment of every day with you

Jeongyeon

Forehead ♡

Very domestic and homey feeling for her

Her kisses are always very sentimental and sweet

She doesn’t kiss as often as other people, which makes the wait worth it every time

“Here honey, you go lay down and rest. I can do the rest of the laundry for you.”

Always kisses you randomly and making sure it catches you off guard

She loves seeing you all flustered and shy <3

Kissing you on the forehead reminds her of being married to you someday, and just being able to protect you from harm

You are everything to her, and she never wants you to feel anything less than that

And if you’re shorter than her, then it’s an even better reason for her to kiss you on the forehead <3

Will also give you the biggest kiss when she comes home from work 🥺

“I missed you so much honey, what have you been up to?”

Momo

Tummy ♡

When you had previously told her about being insecure about your tummy, you never thought she would take it so seriously

But oh boy how wrong you were

It instantly became Momo's favorite place to kiss you

Momo made sure to always remember it so she could prove your insecurities wrong

She loves how soft and chunky your tummy is, and just can't ever get enough of it

Also loves how much you giggle when she kisses you

If you ever have those days where you're not feeling too great, she will start giving you kisses there first and make sure you feel so loved and beautiful

“You are so beautiful Y/N. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Your stretch marks are not ugly at all honey I promise. They make you look even more gorgeous.”

She will sometimes leave hickies and bite marks there too, but only when she’s in the mood and you give her permission

If you are also pregnant, she will not hesitate to smother your tummy in kisses then too <3

It would be almost impossible for her to keep her hands off of you

Her end goal is to always make you feel loved, and to remind you that you are the most beautiful woman she has ever set her eyes on

Sana

Dimples ♡

We all know Sana is a very affectionate person. So choosing her favorite spot to kiss you would be impossible right?

Nope not at all for her.

The first thing that had drawn her to you was your radiant smile

But the deal breaker was the dimples that came along with it

She just couldn’t get enough of them

Once you guys had been dating for about 3-4 months, you both had gotten very comfortable with each other and started being all lovey dovey and such

That was when you noticed how much she loved to kiss your dimples

Any chance she could get, she made sure to kiss you in that same spot

It never failed to make you blush every time, and that’s part of the reason why she would constantly kiss you there

She also loves how well they compliment your face, and how adorable they make you look

“Y/N have I ever told you how much I love your dimples? They make you look so cute!” *pinches your cheeks*

Jihyo

Cheeks ♡

She doesn’t mind kissing on the lips. She loves it actually, but she kissing your cheeks even better

Jihyo’s kisses are the most genuine ones you will ever feel in your entire life

Sometimes it’s hard for her to say how much she loves you outloud, so she’ll express it through her kisses

When you’re having a bad day and come home tired, she’ll wrap her arms around you and give soft pecks on your cheeks

Or when Jihyo has to leave for early morning dance practice, she’ll slowly wake you up by peppering your face with kisses too

It’s just a super sweet gesture for her, and your puffy cheeks are too cute to not kiss anyways

She loves the way you blush when she randomly walks up to you and kisses you

Jihyo adores you so much, even if it’s hard for her to say outloud sometimes

When she does, she makes sure it meaningful, and at the perfect time

“I love you so much Y/N. Even if I don’t say it outloud that much, I really do. You’re my world, and I never want you to feel any lesser than that.”

Mina

Nose ♡–-

When you confessed to her that you hated the shape/size of your nose, she made it one of her top priorities to make you feel less insecure about it

Her shy persona may keep her from expressing a lot of things, but it didn’t stop her from showing her affection for you

You were used to her always giving you warm hugs, and very soft kisses on the lips

But when she added your nose to the agenda, it was game over for you

She loves to kiss your nose when you look super cute, and she can’t handle it

Or when you’re doing something sweet for her like washing the dishes, or doing her laundry. She’ll always find a way to pay you back with affection

“Thank you so much baby. You’re so sweet.”

Over time your insecurities had slowly gone away after receiving so much love and support from her, making your nose the very very least of your worries

Having someone like her in your life made you realize that looks weren’t every thing, and that you never have to worry about when you’re with her

“Honey your nose is so cold. *kisses your nose* Here let me kiss it some more so it will feel warmer...”

Dahyun

Hands/ fingers ♡

Dahyun is very loving and sweet

She loves to hold your hand when you two are walking around Seoul together, or just cuddling on the couch

She loves the intimacy it brings between you two

If she doesn't express her love with words at the moment, she will express it with actions

She'll bring your hand up to her lip and pepper your knuckles, fingers, and whatever else with kisses

Something else that she would never admit, is how she loves the softness of your hands

It reminds her of when she was little, and she would hold her mother’s hand

Dahyun wants you to feel loved and adored by her at all times, even if it’s not verbally

When you guys are at restaurants, she will have no shame holding your hand from across the table and kissing it

“Dahyun be careful. People might see us.”

She’ll just laugh and say, “Let them. Nothing will ever stop me from expressing my love for you darling.”

Chaeyoung

Jawline/Neck ♡

We all know Chaeyoung is a big romantic

And can sometimes be a bit flirty with it too

So it’s no surprise that her favorite place to kiss you, would be the most intimate and steamy

Even though it is her favorite spot to kiss you, she doesn’t really kiss there very often

But when she does, she makes sure to go all out

She loves how intimate it is, and loves hearing/ seeing your reaction every time she kisses in that area

Most definitely will leave hickies too, so be aware when she starts going to town down there

“You like it when I kiss you like this baby?”

You can just already see her smirking while saying that…

She loves riling you up and making you melt from her touch <3

Tzuyu

Ears ♡

Tzuyu is a one-of-a-kind woman, and the sweetest one you have ever met

When you guys first started dating you it stayed at the awkward stage for a little bit longer than most couples

But when she started warming up to you, her affection towards you became even greater

It started with little kisses on the nose, then on the cheek, lips, she eventually progressed to your ears

You thought it was weird at first, but you eventually grew to love it

Tzuyu loves to hug you from behind because of the height difference, and she’ll often whisper in your ear how much she loves you

Sometimes she’ll nibble a little bit too after kissing it, but not very often

If you have slightly larger size ears, she would tease you about it every now and then

But not enough to where you would feel insecure

She just thinks your ears are super cute, and make you even more loveable

"I love you so much Y/N... Don't ever change. You are perfect just the way you are."

#twice headcanons #twice x fem reader #twice fanfic #twice x reader #myoui mina x reader #jihyo x reader #hirai momo x reader #hirai momo x fem reader #momo x fem reader #momo x reader #twice momo x reader #chaeyoung x reader #son chaeyoung x reader #mina x fem reader #twice mina x reader #mina x reader #sana x fem reader #twice sana x reader #sana x reader #yoo jeongyeon x fem reader #jeongyeon x fem reader #jeongyeon x reader #tzuyu x reader #tzuyu x fem reader #twice tzuyu x reader #dahyun x fem reader #dahyun x reader #nayeon x fem reader #nayeon x reader #kim dahyun x reader

[lily-fics-11]

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 7 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here

Tag list: @avocifera, @academiareid, @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12

(feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

Sorry this took so long, I just graduated college, was briefly dating a new girl that I hung out with like 5 times in one week, and this chapter is longer than usual. Def not my best work either, but I hope you guys still like it!

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

The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 7

You have some intimate moments with Hazel when you do her makeup, and even go on your first date. 

Word count: 5.3k

CW: Profanities, a little suggestive kind of? Changing clothes in front of each other and sitting on her lap to do her makeup, mentions of counting calories (nothing compared to negative body talk in the movie), not beta read 

A few days after your movie night you start teasing Hazel on the car ride home. “You still haven’t given me one of your sweatshirts like you said you would.”

“Shit, you’re right. You can come over whenever and pick one out.”

“I can pick it out?” You question with curiosity. 

“I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted if I could.” She murmurs. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear and clear your throat. “Well I will keep that in mind, but for now I think I’m okay with getting to steal one of your sweatshirts.”

You pause for a moment and it’s silent.

“Wait, remember you said we would dress eachother up in our clothes? We should do that, tomorrow.”

Hazel peers over, looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll come over to your house before school tomorrow so we can get each other ready.”

“Come over at 6:30.”

“6:30?” She groans, “You seriously take that long to get ready in the morning?”

You jokingly roll your eyes. “I’m going to need extra time if I’m going to do my makeup and yours.”

“You can’t wear makeup if you are trying to fully embody Hazel Callahan.”

You gasp dramatically, purely to be dramatic. “How could you do that to me Haze? I don’t want to look like a zombie!”

Hazel punches your arm softly. “Are you saying that I look like a zombie, because I don’t wear makeup?”

“God no, the way you look, it’s literally perfect. I, on the other hand, need it to look like a normal human being.” You bite your lip when you realize what you said. 

“Would you please shut up? If I’m perfect, that makes you extraordinarily flawless. There’s not a single girl at our school that could even try to compare to you. I can’t even think of any girl on this planet that is more beautiful than you are. I just wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you.” She takes a shaky breath, looking straight ahead. 

“I, uh, thank you.” It’s like all the thoughts in your head have been picked up and thrown around by a tornado. 

Hazel clears her throat. “I’ll still come over at 6:30, that way we can spend some extra time together.”

“You are going to wake up that early just to hang out with me?”

“I’ve already lost so much sleep thinking about… well I haven’t been sleeping well anyways. Might as well make the most of that extra time.”

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

The next morning Hazel arrives at your house with your go to coffee order and favorite doughnut from Dunkin’.

“Hazel, you didn’t have to do that.” You could almost cry because she remembered this little detail and went out of her way to do something special for you. 

“I wanted to,” she assures you. 

“You treat me so well,” you murmur, gazing longingly at the girl you are in love with. 

Hazel puts her hands on your shoulders and her blue eyes bear into your soul. “You deserve the best, never settle for anything less than princess treatment.”

Your lip quivers when you whisper, “I hope I don’t have to.”

Hazel pulls away and crosses her arms without breaking eye contact. “I would never treat you… I mean I would never let anyone treat you badly ever again. As long as I’m around no one is going to hurt you.”

Having maintained a cautious mindset for so long, your brain refuses to process what she has said. Responding is completely off the table. “Well I guess we better get started, yeah? Put on whatever music you want. My phone is already connected to the speaker. My passcode is 3900.”

Hazel picks up your phone and scrolls through your music. “You got a text from Isabel, in a group chat with her and Brittany, do you want me to check it for you?”

You are about to say yes, but remember that you were telling them about how excited you were to get to wear Hazel’s clothes today. How it almost makes you feel like you are her girlfriend.

“No!” You shout at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to..” she stutters, her voice sounding weak and wounded. 

“No no no, that’s not it at all.” You explain more tenderly. “It’s just that- Isabel has been talking about something personal. Just want to respect her privacy.”

Hazel lets out a long breath that she must have been holding in. “Of course.”

She selects a playlist and locks your phone, placing it face down on the. 

“Which one do you want to wear?” You ask her, gesturing to the 3 different ensembles laid out on your bed. Hazel looks over the options and goes for the outfit you assumed that she would. It was the least girly of the 3, and the closest to something she would normally wear. A simple white tank top and some casual khaki shorts. Though the shorts are much shorter than anything she owns, and the tank top is rather tight, the outfit is overall within her comfort zone. You knew she would wear whatever you chose for her without complaint, but you wanted to make sure she was comfortable, while still making it clear that she isn’t in her normal clothes. That she is wearing your clothes, that she is yours. 

Hazel pulls a few articles of clothing out of her backpack. “I didn’t think to bring you options, I hope that’s ok.”

You giggle, “I trust you Haze.”

You turn away and start to pull off your pajama shorts, fully aware of what you are doing. 

Hazel coughs in a way that sounds like she is choking. “Do you want me to leave while you change?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. We used to change in front of each other all the time. If you want to leave though you can.”

“You’re right, I’ll just change here.” Her voice trembles.

You continue to change, but you hear nothing, which means that Hazel has not moved to start changing. Most likely because she was watching you change, just as you had intended. You allow your long t-shirt to cover up just enough while changing the clothes on your bottom half.

When you pull off your top, exposing your bare back, you hear Hazel start to shuffle around and pick up the clothes off your bed. However, you can feel her eyes on you and the thick tension in the air.

When you finish changing and turn around Hazel is already in her clothes and her eyes are glued to you. 

“Haze, you look great!” You smirk at her. She looks down at the clothes she is wearing and laughs. “Yeah I do look good. But not as good as you do.”

You glance at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. A white short sleeve button down under a tan argyle cardigan, paired with some loose fitting jeans. You two wear the same size clothes, but everything Hazel wears is oversized. Your clothes are mostly tight, and you know she is only wearing them because they are yours. “I do not look good, I look like somebody’s grandpa.”

Hazel pretends to be insulted. “Do I look like a grandpa to you?”

“You look good in this stuff, it just works. But me, not so much.”

“You would look good in a paper bag,” she casually throws out and then you watch her wince at what she just said. 

“You need to get your eyes checked.” You giggle, “sit down so I can do your makeup.” You gesture to your desk chair, and Hazel makes herself comfortable while you pick items out of the drawers and off the shelves. 

You stand slightly bent over, hovering above her when you promise her “I am not going to go crazy.” 

The first step is sculpting out Hazel’s dark eyebrows. They are already nice on their own so it wasn’t too difficult.

“For your face I’m going to use blush and highlight, is that ok?” You hum switching out the products in your hands. 

Hazel’s head turns to the side and concentrates for a moment. “I have no idea what that means.”

You smile as you cup her chin in your hand and she stares back in wonder. “The pink stuff and the shiny stuff. I’ll make it look as natural as possible.”

“I trust your judgment,” she mumbles, lost in your eyes. 

The brush delicately adds a sweep of color to her already perfect face. She looks unbearably adorable after dabbing a hint of pink on her nose. When switching out the blush in your hand for highlight you notice a twinge of pain in your lower back from hunching over. You stand straight up and place a hand where you feel the pain as you flex and stretch.

Hazel’s delectable lips curve into a frown. “Are you ok?”

“Bending over, it's just a little uncomfortable. I would move the chair and sit on my bed but i don't want to accidentally get something on my blanket.”

“Sitting down would be better?” Hazel inquires, looking around the room for a solution. 

“Yeah but it's probably easier to just stay over here.”

“You could just sit on my lap, right? Would that help?” She bites her lip, eyes wide and expectant. 

Help. Most definitely. In more ways than she knows.

You nod casually, trying to hide your excitement and play it cool. “That would actually help a lot, are you sure you don't mind?”

The way she looks you up and down hungrily makes you want to check your pulse because it can’t be at a safe level. “Mind? Of course not. It's ideal actually. I prefer to keep you as close as I can.” You nearly pass out when she says that. Scratch that, you nearly drop dead and ascend into another plane of existence. This isn’t a side of Hazel you are used to but damn, you are loving it.

You sit down on Hazel's lap facing her with one leg on each side of her and the chair. You shift a little to balance yourself properly  and she puts her hands on your waist to help steady you. “Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” she chuckles. 

You bite your lip as your head spins and Hazel just smiles patiently until you tell her “I’m going to to do eyeliner now.” She nods her head along to the music.

You catch her chin in your hand to stop her from moving her head. Hazel’s eyes go soft and flicker between your eyes and lips. Or are you just imagining it?

“Close your eyes,” you tell her and she does. You needed her to do so in order to apply the eyeliner, but not having her beautiful blue eyes looking at you temporarily minimizes the urge to kiss her. 

“I’m just going to do a tiny little wing. I don’t want to bother with your waterline, it’ll be uncomfortable since you’re not used to it. Your eyes don’t really need any help standing out anyways.” Before switching from one eye to the other you stop to admire her divine features. As if she knows that you are watching her, and is trying to make you squirm, she licks her alluring lips. You feel like she’s inviting you into them but that’s not a signal you can risk misreading. You are so shocked that you drop the eyeliner on the floor. Hazel’s eyes open when she hears it hit the ground. You go to reach for it, but Hazel stops you. “I got it.”

She wraps one arm around you while her other reaches to the ground. She passes you the eyeliner and you mumble a thank you. Hazel then wraps her other arm around you and holds you tight around your waist. She closes her eyes again and you draw on the other wing. 

In preparation for her opening her eyes again, you take a deep breath before instructing her to do so. Hazel’s eyes flutter and they are looking right in yours, as if she knew where they were, through the power of your connection. You tell her to look up, so you can apply mascara, but she doesn’t do it right away. Her gaze lingers on your face, like she is studying your features before she has to look away. 

“I know that staying still isn’t usually your thing but I’m going to need you to for about a minute, is that ok?”

She looks over your face one last time before saying, “anything for you.” Then she looks up. 

“I’m going to be super careful. I promise I won’t poke your eye out.”

She runs her hand up and down your back before holding you tighter. “I know, I trust you more than anyone else.”

You carefully apply the mascara, leaving Hazel's dreamy eyes unscathed and well defined. 

“Do you have a lipstick color preference?” You ask, looking over at the vast collection. 

She looks over at the array of colors and she points at one. “That one that you had on that day, with the coffee cup.” Did she remember the color from looking at your lips or her own?

You are extremely familiar with the shape of Hazel’s lips, you spend enough time looking at them, though you wish to become acquainted with them in other ways. You effortlessly trace their shape with lip liner and then swipe the lipstick over top. The addition of color only draws attention to her lips and you hope that they don’t catch anyone else’s eyes. 

Wishing you could ignore it, every queer girl in school notices Hazel in the tight, low cut, tank top. PJ eyes Hazel like a predator stares down its prey. Fortunately, you get the chance to pick first at that afternoon’s meeting. 

“I think I’m finally ready for a rematch, princess,” you coo at PJ. And that was true, this wasn’t an impulsive decision driven by jealousy, though you aren’t above that. It’s been a long time coming. 

However, your rage has you quickly taking the offense. PJ dodges your first punch but your second one hits her square in the jaw and sends her stumbling backwards. Her eyes squint and her lip curls as she regains her balance. You just smile at her and it makes her even more angry. 

PJ charges at you and is met with much more force than she was expecting. Your hands are on each other's shoulders, trying to push down your opponent. You head butt her instead of continuing the power struggle. It hurts, but it’s obvious that it hurt PJ more when she looks dizzy, holding her hand to her head and says “fuck!”

You don’t show her any mercy, she’s pushed to the hard gym floor before she knows what hit her. PJ sits up on her hands like she is about to continue, but she just shakes her head in defeat. You have to bite back a smile as you pull her to her feet and she sneers at you. 

PJ spends the rest of the meeting glaring in your direction and in all honesty, it makes you feel great. 

At the end of the meeting Josie announced that tomorrow is going to be a bonding day. 

“You looked so pissed at PJ today,” Hazel laughs on the car ride home. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear. “I might have been.”

“Did she do something?” She sounds protective and ready to fight. 

Yes. “No. It’s just that she… she’s just PJ.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Hazel laughs, sounding relieved. 

“How do you feel about having a bonding day tomorrow?” You wonder out loud, the question for the both of you. 

“It was actually my idea,” she announces confidently. 

“Josie made it sound like it was her idea. Her and PJ are starting to get popular, well less unpopular, and it’s really starting to go to their heads. Like I get it, they are the ugly, untalented, gays, and never got any positive attention before now, but they need to get their egos in check.”

“I hadn’t really noticed it until you pointed it out,” Hazel mumbles. 

“They also don’t appreciate you enough,” you spat, disgusted by the thought of someone mistreating Hazel. 

“Maybe,” she whispers. 

“You deserve better, Hazel, the best.” The reminder is stern. “You should stay away from people like them. Stay close to the ones who treat you like the special person you are.”

“Well you do,” her puppy dog eyes are looking at you like you make the world turn. 

“Of course!” You put your hand on her thigh. “No one is more important to me than you are.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel like she’s the only one in the world,” Hazel laughs shyly. 

“That’s because you are.”

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

The members of the fight club sit in a circle. You are sitting next to Hazel, and when she isn’t looking Brittany gestures for you to get closer to her.

You slide closer to Hazel and when she notices she moves her knee so that it's touching yours. She smiles at you and you return it, but you know you must be blushing hard. 

The discussion starts off a bit awkward, but it’s not too long before everyone gets comfortable and begins sharing. After Brittany vents, Hazel starts to share. She talks about what she has been going through with her mom and you are surprised, why hasn’t she talked about this with you? As sad as you are to hear about it, she is so cute when she talks about how happy she is to have made a bunch of new friends. Then PJ, being the dick she always is, cuts Hazel off. You keep your anger contained but you will not be forgetting about this. You put your hand on Hazel's leg to show her that you are listening and that you care about what she has to say. 

The meeting gets cut pretty short after an interesting story from Josie about juvie, that for some reason sounded vaguely familiar. You, along with several other girls, didn’t even get to share. 

When you go over to your backpack you pull out your water bottle to take a drink. You notice that PJ’s bag is right next to yours. So you ‘accidentally’ dropped the bottle, spilling out the full contents on PJ’s bag. You quickly grab your own bag and go to find Hazel. By the time you are standing next to her you hear PJ yell “What the hell! My fucking bag is all fucking wet!”

Everybody turns to look and Hazel notices the shit eating grin on your face. “Did you…” she questions and you just laugh. She starts to laugh too, but covers her mouth with her hand so that it isn’t obvious. You can still see it in her eyes though and it’s adorable. 

“We should probably get out of here, right?” You ask her and she just grabs your arm to pull you away, the two of you stifling laughter. 

As you walk towards your car in the parking lot you hear Isabel yell “Hazel! I have something for you!”

She tries to run after you and Hazel, but she ends up shuffling with little steps because of her high heels.

Isabel hands something small to Hazel and it’s a… Chili’s gift card?

“You mentioned craving chips and salsa the other day and I figured I would get-give this to you. Someone, um, gave it to me, but ya know, I’m watching my calories,” Isabel explains.

There is no way that anyone who has ever met Isabel would give her a gift card to a restaurant that didn’t have at least 1 Michelin star. And watching her calories? Yeah her mother was constantly pestering her about it, but she literally just had ice cream the other day. 

Hazel is so endearingly gullible that she buys it all.“Thanks Isabel, that’s so nice of you.”

Isabel can hardly contain herself. “You two should go together, wouldn’t that be like, so fun?”

“That’s a great idea. I think it would be a very fun d-“ Hazel pauses for a moment, “a lot of fun.”

After thanking Isabel again, you and Hazel get into the car. She starts fidgeting with her rings. “Would you maybe want to go out to eat tonight? I know it’s Friday so you might have plans or something but if you’re free…”

Isabel had said she had something fun planned for tonight, but you know now that she must have been referring to this.

“I would love to.”

“How does 7 sound? I can drive.”

You nod with a shy smile, though bubbling with excitement. 

You don’t want to assume anything, but this might actually be a date, so you are treating it like one. Preparing the way you would for any other date, you get started early to make sure everything looks perfect. You lay out a go to date outfit, one that you know you look hot in, and you do your hair and makeup the same way you always do, it looks good but also like you didn’t put too much effort into it. 

You are buzzing with excitement when you walk outside to meet Hazel. She’s already sitting in her car. Her expression makes it look like she feels absolutely defeated, but it melts away into a dreamy daze as soon as she lays eyes on you. 

Hazel puts on a playlist that she says she made just for the two of you, and it makes your heart flutter. 

As Hazel drives you notice her glancing over at you every chance she gets. It makes you wonder if something is wrong with your hair and makeup.

“What?” You ask her nervously.

Hazel raises one eyebrow and tilts her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Did I forget to brush part of my hair or something?” You anxiously bite your lip.

“No!” she yells and it makes you jump a little.

“Not at all!” She says in a softer tone, trying to recover. “You just… you just look, like, amazing.”

You play with your hair to distract from the warm blush you feel creeping across your face. “Awe, thanks Haze. I just wanted to look nice I guess.”

“It’s just Chilli’s.” God, this girl is so oblivious. 

“I know, it’s just that…” you huff and decide maybe you shouldn’t say anything. “Never mind.”

“Cmon, just tell me,” Hazel groans dramatically to make you laugh. Then she pokes your arm. “You can tell me anything.”

“I just wasn’t sure if this was like, I don’t know, this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, a date?” You cover your face with your hands because you are so embarrassed. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Hazel’s comforting voice reassures you.”I was scared to call it a date, but I really really want it to be a date.” You uncover your face as your jaw drops all the way to the floor. The anticipation is killing you until she finally says “so if you want this to be… it’s definitely a date.”

“For real?” You are practically bouncing up and down in your seat. 

“Yeah of course babe,” she smiles looking over at you, putting her hand on your leg. It makes you so happy that you aren’t even concerned about how that might make her bad driving even worse. 

You put your hand on top of hers for a reality check, to know that this is actually happening, and not a dream. “I can’t believe this is really a date.”

“Me either. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Hazel really should be looking at the road more but you are enjoying her attention too much. 

“Probably not as long as I have.”

Her face is lit up by her smiling and laughing, she is shining like the sun. “I doubt it. Let’s just say it’s been a really long time. But no need to compete here, right? I know I’m winning either way.”

You nod in agreement. “Very true.”

The rest of the car ride isn't awkward per say, but you're both very nervous, in a cute way. Instead of trying to force a conversation while processing everything,  you take the time to appreciate the playlist that Hazel made, and sing along to the familiar songs. The songs that you don’t know are poetically sweet. 

This is actually happening. You absolutely wanted this to be a date, and you prepared by looking good. But emotionally? You never bothered to hype yourself up for this, like a FOOL. You start nervously picking at your cuticles. 

When the car comes to a stop you finally have the nerve to look back over at Hazel. She’s already looking over at you, her face is excited more than anything else, but she still has a death grip on the steering wheel. 

“Are- are you ready to go inside?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, looking at Hazel's white knuckles. She finally realizes what she’s doing and quickly places her hands in her lap and nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

Hazel walks a few steps ahead so she can hold the door open for you, and when the hostess brings you to your table she pulls out your chair. 

You start looking down at the menu to see what you want. When looking up at Hazel to ask if she has any ideas, she hasn’t even picked up her menu yet, she’s just watching you, starry eyed.

You giggle and point to the menu “aren’t you going to look at that?”

“I’d rather look at you,” she mumbles and leans her head on her hand. 

You put down your own menu. “Oh come on Hazel, really?”

“I’m totally serious. I’m finally on a date with the most amazing, beautiful, girl in the world. How am I supposed to focus on anything else?”

You study her face, making sure that you can picture her like this from now on and forever. “You really are just the cutest human to ever exist.”

Hazel sits back up and drops both her hands to the table. “Me?”

“Yes you! Just look at you! You are so sweet and funny and compassionate and empathetic, just anything you could ever want in a...” The waitress cuts you off. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” She asks and sets down a bowl of chips and salsa. 

It’s very difficult to even think about what you want to drink.  You almost called Hazel your girlfriend. No matter how bad you want her to be, you are happy that you didn’t. It’s too scary to say out loud, even though you’ve been married for years in your head. Verbalizing it would make it real, and real things hurt much worse if they don’t work out. 

Hazel is looking at you, clearly hanging on to every word you say, wondering how that sentence was supposed to end. 

“I’ll have a, uh, lemonade,” you tell the waitress without looking away from Hazel, your eyes wide and your lips slightly parted, dying to utter one last word that would change your life forever. 

“And for you?” It doesn’t even seem like Hazel heard that.

You smile awkwardly at the waitress and tell her “sprite.” She nods at you confused, “I’ll have that right out for you.”

When she is walking away Hazel finally notices that the waitress was there at all, and she looks a little embarrassed. 

She starts adjusting the collar of her shirt, even though it looks fine, so you ask, “do you uh, want an appetizer?”

You can tell she is still longing to continue your previous conversation, but you just aren’t ready for that right now. She doesn’t even bother to look at the menu. “I’m good with chips and salsa. But if you want something I’ll share it.”

“I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.” That’s because nerves are fluttering in your stomach. 

“Me neither,” Hazel smiles shyly. 

You shift around the way you are sitting to try and expel some of the nerves. Hazel mirrors you, moving around as well, settling with one knee tucked under her. You start to eat some chips and salsa, trying to collect your thoughts, before looking back at the menu. 

“I can’t decide between the honey chipotle  chicken tenders and the chicken bacon ranch quesadilla,” you sigh. 

“Why don’t you just get both?”

“I’m not hungry enough for an appetizer Haze,” you giggle, “I’m definitely not hungry enough to eat two dinners.”

“I don’t know what I want so we can just get what you want and share it.”

“Hazeeeeee,” you drag out, sounding almost a bit whiny. “Don’t be silly, just order what you want, I can flip a coin or something.”

Hazel slides her menu over towards you and looks away from it. “I just want you to have what you want. Besides, we always like the same things anyways.”

You place your menu on top of hers. “Fine, but you have to pick next time so that we are even.”

“Works for me,” she hums in approval. The two of you are just staring at each other, wondering where to take the conversation from here. 

Next thing you know the waitress is putting down your drinks and taking your dinner order. 

Hazel finally looks like she’s gotten herself together after your earlier conversation. 

“I can’t believe you dumped water on PJ’s bag,” she laughs after the waitress takes the order and walks away. 

“That bitch had it coming. I hate the way her and Josie brush you off, like they are better than you. They take you for granted, who do they think they are?”

Hazel bites her lip and looks down glumly. “I guess I’m just used to being treated that way.”

You cross your arms over your chest and sneer, “Well anyone that treats you like that has to answer to me now.”

Hazel laughs, even though you are very serious. “Are you going to beat up everyone that doesn’t treat me right?”

“Yes, actually.”

“If that’s the case I will punch your ex in the face if I ever get the chance.”

“That’s a deal.”

You wouldn’t call it gossiping, it’s more like discussing, when you start talking about the unfortunate relationship circumstances of other girls in the club. Like how does Isabelle put up with Jeff? Is Brittany single because she is too attached to Isabelle?

The rest of dinner goes well, and you listen to the playlist Hazel made on the car ride home.

She walks you to your front door and gives you a hug. With her arms still wrapped around your waist she pulls the upper part of her body away from you to take a good look at your face. Hey eyes wander over you dreamily until they stop on your lips. As she leans in you close your eyes, only for her to press her soft lips to your cheek. 

#hazel callahan #hazelcallahan #bottoms hazel #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan bottoms #hazel callahan brainrot #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazelfanfic #hazel x reader #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan oneshot #hazel callahan x fem reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x fem!reader #hazel from bottoms #hazel callahan master list #bottoms fanfic #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #bottoms x reader

[typicalopposite]

Ok clipboard proposal part 3.2

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | AO3

One by one everyone notices something is up with Buck.

Eddie notices it when Buck doesn’t jump to make him his best man (or even Chris…)

Hen notices it when he isn’t taking advantage of the nice fancy new clipboard they all so graciously — foolishly — gifted him at the proposal.

Bobby notices it when he’s not asked to officiate.

Maddie notices it when he doesn’t mention Jee being their flower girl.

Chimney notices it when he makes a joke about bachelor party payback and Buck looks like he’s just been punched in the face.

“Ah… there it is,” he says to himself as he watches Buck scurry off. The excuse of needing to be somewhere to do something and Chim is sure Buck doesn’t have the slightest idea what either of those are.

Chimney gathers everyone, fills them in on the feeling he has that Buck has finally figured out a way to punish himself for something he deems to be his fault… by taking it away from himself as well.

They are going to confront him when he comes back to work after his two days off… but on the second day Tommy calls Maddie saying Buck wants to elope.

“You really were just gonna pull a Bobby and Athena on us Buckaroo?” Chimney says, being the first to step through the court house doors. Buck looks at Tommy, and there’s no betrayal in his eyes because Tommy ratted their plan out… if anything he seems relieved. He didn’t want this, (and everyone was sure of that) he just… didn’t know what else to do to appease the guilty voices yelling in his head.

It’s fairly easy — with everyone there pushing him to say what’s really bothering him — for Buck to come clean about how he feels about the wedding.

Maddie grabs his face, holding it between her hands so he has to look at her. “Buck, stop.” She says, and smiles, blinking back her own tears while swiping his away with her thumbs. “What happened at our wedding wasn’t your fault.”

“I was sick, Buck…” Chim added

“But I should have—”

“Stop…” Maddie repeats, softer this time. “We didn’t blame you then, so you have to stop blaming yourself now. Please. And besides, you can’t get married in a court house… not when you said yourself a beach on the east coast at sunset when the fireflies are out might just be the ideal dream wedding.”

Buck stares at her in shock; he remembers the wedding he saw while out surfing in Virginia Beach, he remembers writing about it to Maddie… he remembers calling it magical (which… it was) and he remembers regretting writing that as soon as he did it because it was way too cheesy for him to say, but he sent the postcard anyway. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

Maddie shrugs, “I read through them from time to time, that’s one of my favorites.”

Needless to say Buck and Tommy don’t get married that day. They return home and Buck goes to the closet where he had hid his clipboard once the guilt had started to get to much. He brings it to the living room and hands it to Maddie, who vows to help him plan the most amazing, beautiful, ✨magical✨wedding ever.

(Yeah this is still not even close to being done it just keeps getting away from me ✌🏼😀 sooo part 3.3 or 4 or whatever coming soon I guess!)

#911 ficlet #911 drabble #911 #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #bucktommy #tevan #firefly #told yall I’d work that ship name in somewhere #I got big plans for it #evan buckley #tommy kinard #maddie buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #hen wilson #bobby nash #118 firefam

[fidoughfaunus]

So a romantic partner and I were talking about my disabilities, chronic pain, and my excitement for a mobility aid. He mentioned that it was weird that I had been in pain so much lately, and I said something like, “weird for you, but my normal. Welcome to being disabled!”

To which he replied “for now.” He was very, very insistent I wouldn’t be disabled forever.

I didn’t know why but it made me so, so angry. When I tried to tell him no, my issues are degenerative and lifelong, genetic with no cure, he basically said he refuses to accept that to be “optimistic.” He got mad when I pushed back that he needed to mitigate his expectations because I’m working really hard on acceptance so I don’t push myself too hard and hurt myself more (which I 100% have been doing.)

My guy/gal/person/whatever: if you cannot accept me disabled, I am going to assume you can’t accept me in my entirety. Sure, I get being hopeful about new therapies and treatments - I always am! - but there is a point you need to accept that pain is a part of my life. Disability is part of my life. Sometimes those things are small, sometimes you can’t ignore them. There are plenty of days I’m walking around and seem fine, sure, but that’s only because people don’t see the aftermath. The pain management, the chronic fatigue, the fainting. People don��t see me on my bad days because I’m *not able to leave my apartment*. Not to pull a cliche, but if you can’t love me just as enthusiastically on my days when I can’t get out of bed from pain, you don’t deserve me on my days when I can walk around the store for 30 minutes and maybe do some craft projects.

More importantly, I tend to trust you less to help me on the former days if you can’t accept my disability for what it is and meet me where I’m at.

It’s taken me a long time to accept my pain and disability, a lot longer than I’d like to admit. While I do not love my pain and limitations and don’t pretend to, they are part of me. I don’t expect other people to love them, but I do need others to accept them.

My walker doesn’t mean an end to fun days with my friends on the Terrace splitting a pitcher of beer, it means more of them. Accepting my disability doesn’t mean rolling over and rotting, it means working with what I can do to make the most of my life. Accepting pain doesn’t mean I let it rule me, it means I do things to avoid triggers while still living my life. Limitations don’t mean I can’t do anything ever, sometimes it just means getting creative in how I do things (and I am aware how privileged I am to make that statement, because other disabilities or my current without needed support would be much more devastating.)

Disabled is not a bad word.

#rivkah irl #disability #chronic pain #heds #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #disability pride #invisible disability #disability awareness #disability acceptance #pain acceptance #relationships #actually disabled #mobility aid

[armored-angel4798]

2023

Steve knew, the moment he saw Eddie’s first message that he wasn’t going to like what they had to say.

EdM0112: Are you busy?

KingSteve: no, why?

EdM0112: I have some silly little news to give you. It’s nothing bad!

KingSteve: what is it? Wait, let me guess, YOU’RE PREGNANT!

EdM0112: hahaha, no, nothing like that.

KingSteve: so what?

EdM0112: I am engaged!

KingSteve: oh, really? That’s Great!!!

It was, in fact, not great. Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest felt so, unbelievably heavy and tears started pouring, unbidden, down his cheeks. Robin. He needed Robin, she would know how to help him. She helped him the last time his pesky feelings came out of the hole he had buried them in.

See, Eddie and Steve had never been good together. Steve was well aware of this fact, thanks to endless hours of talking to Robin. They were teenagers when they first got together, and neither of them had any clue how a relationship should work. Eddie was figuring themself out and they weren’t comfortable with Steve’s easy affection or deep wells of devotion and love. Steve had been too much. He had loved much too hard and much too fast and it ran Eddie away. They had never been good at the communication side of the relationship either. They were never on the same page or even in the same book most of the time. Yet, none of this had stoped Steve from giving his heart to Eddie. None of this made him think for even a millisecond that they couldn’t figure it out, that they couldn’t be together, that they wouldn’t be together forever.

Steve had always thought that he would be the one putting a ring on Eddie’s finger. Until Eddie handed his heart back to him in a million tiny pieces.

2019

“Eddie, please. I love you, Eddie.”

“Steve, we aren’t good for each other, can’t you see that? We haven’t done anything other than hurt one another this whole past year of dating.”

“You don’t have to do this Eddie! I can be better, I can be whatever you need me to be, just please don’t leave me.”

“Steve, the fact that you don’t see how fucked up that is only solidifies that this isn’t good for either of us.”

Steve was sobbing. He was sobbing and Eddie was mad at him. He just needed to know what he was doing wrong. He could fix it. He had to fix it. If Eddie left it would just prove what his parents had always shown him. He is unloveable. He is never good enough. Never strong enough. Never caring enough. Never enough. He just wanted to be enough.

“Steve, this has to be over. For both of us.” Eddie sounded so exasperated. So tired.

Steve nodded, still sobbing.

“I’m… I’m sorry that I couldn’t make you happy, Eddie. I’m sorry. Please, I love you.”

“And I’m sure I will always love you, but I’m leaving. I have to go. I can’t be myself here, Steve.” Eddie was whispering now, running their cool hand down Steve’s cheek. Steve watched Eddie’s tears roll down their own cheeks as they wiped his away. “I’ll still be just a phone call away, but I have to move on.”

Steve grabbed Eddie’s wrist and nodded. Giving up hurt worse than anything but he couldn’t keep causing Eddie pain. He couldn’t keep them here if they would be unhappy and anything other than wholly themself. Eddie moved across the country that day and never looked back.

2023

Steve isn’t really sure when he called Robin, but he apparently did because she was here. She was picking him up off of the floor that he had sank to, his phone still on the couch cushion behind him.

“Hey, hey, Steve” she patted his cheeks and he blinked. “There you are. What happened Stevie? You called but never said a word so I came to check on you. You don’t look good. Why are you crying?”

Steve brought his own hand up to his cheek, it came back wet.

“Eddie is getting married.”

“Woah, okay. I didn’t even know they were dating anybody.”

“Me either” Steve whispered.

“And how are you handling this information?” Steve gave her a glare that he’s sure lost some of its sterns by his no doubt puffy eyes. “Yeah, so not great.” Steve snorted. “Do ya want to talk about it.”

“I thought I was done with this. I thought I had moved past it. Why? Why did I break the moment they told me that they were engaged.”

“I’ve gotta be honest here, Steve, the situation you put yourself in wasn’t the best. You knew Eddie was moving on. They told you they were. You never really let them go. You stayed close and kept your own hopes up. This just crushed them.”

Steve flopped his head over on her shoulder.

“Why cant you be my therapist, again?”

“Conflict of interest, babe. I would be too clouded by my love for you to give you the advice you need.”

“It’s never stopped you before.” Robin chuckled and ruffled his hair. “I don’t think I ever actually let myself work through my heartbreak. I just kind of shoved it down far enough that it wasn’t a problem to keep talking to Eddie as if they’d never broken my heart. I still wanted them to be my best friend. Eddie knows me better than almost anyone, besides you, and it felt harder to lose that than to bury my feelings.”

“Yeah, you’ve buried more than you would ever let anyone you love even think of going through. Don’t you think you’ve held on to enough? Just let it go, Steve. It’ll be okay. I’ll be here.”

“You won’t leave me too?” Steve’s voice sounded so so small, even to himself.

“Never.”

And Steve broke.

#Steve Harrington needs a hug #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #stranger things #st #this is really as okay as it’s gonna get right now. #I’m sorry #i was having a bad day when i wrote it. #angst #it’s very sad

[scary-grace]

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.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shimura tenko x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #x reader #reader insert #please hold

[mistydear]

soften me now, let me take as is given (xviii)

billie dean howard x reader summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together. w/c: 2.9k taglist: unsure! let me know if you're still interested chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen notes: hi! i've actually had this chapter and most of the next chapter written for a long time and never posted them. not sure why, but i'm going to get 19 posted in a couple days just because i can and should. can't make any promises, but this story lives in my head still. so i want to finish it. to whoever reads this, thank you! and i hope you enjoy :) warnings: discussion of cancer

The last few weeks, Billie thinks, have been oversaturated with you. Like a movie screen with the vibrancy up so high it hurts her eyes, makes her dream in colors that don’t exist. It’s terrible. And Billie just can’t stop, doesn’t have the willpower to grab onto something steady, something real to stop the spinning. She’s sick with you, absolutely run down and overwhelmed by your warmth and gratitude and patience and humor. God, you can make her laugh. Harder than she has in years. It scares her half to death sometimes when she looks at you and wonders. Not just about brushing your hair back for you or sliding a hand tight around your waist or kissing your soft, lovely lips. But about waking up next to you, getting to see you bathed in a soft morning light, knowing how you take your coffee and making it for you every morning. Billie finds herself wanting something much softer and more tender with you than she’s allowed herself to have in a long time. She wants to love you. 

The last time she took you out to dinner, it was at some swanky bistro in West Hollywood. And as soon as you noticed that they didn’t post the prices on the menu, you blushed and set it down. 

“Billie, I can’t afford this,” you admit with considerable difficulty and humiliation, your cheeks tinging red in the candlelight. Billie forces down a blissful, hazy grin and reaches over, covering your hand with hers. 

“Darling, I’m taking you out to dinner. I don’t expect you to pay.” Your cheeks flush darker at the term of endearment, and you swallow, pulling your hand away and down into your lap. 

“This is too much,” you breathe, and Billie’s eyes search yours, her smile flickering and fading, trying to hide her panic. 

“Did I overstep?” She’s been worried, endlessly it seems, about stepping too carelessly into romance and getting burned, about making it awkward and uncomfortable. Billie doesn’t think she could stand that, not with you. They’ve worked too hard to be friends to then get lost in some terrible unrequited crush. Fiddling with your napkin, your jaw tightens momentarily before you look back at Billie. 

“No, you’re not���” you take a breath. “You’re not overstepping. I’m just not used to being paid for. I don’t want to owe you anything.” 

“You could never,” Billie says, brow furrowed because the idea itself is ridiculous. It takes a minute for you to accept that, but as soon as Billie sees it on your face, she smiles, soft and easy. “Unfortunately, I’m rather fond of you. It’s what I do for people I like.” 

“Buy them things?” you ask, a hint of amusement creeping in. Billie chuckles, resting her elbow on the table, her chin on her knuckles. 

“Spoil them,” she allows herself to say, eyes sparkling in the low, warm light. Your eyes lock with hers in surprise, and then you swallow. 

“You are not the same Billie Dean Howard I met on my front porch,” you say with a shake of your head. “I feel like I’m constantly uncovering a little bit more of you.” Your voice begs a question Billie isn’t sure how to answer. She feels like any explanation might give too much away. She helped you when you were nothing but cruel to her. She bought your house. She was so patient with you, and you with her. And now you’re here, and she’s spoiling you the way she does with the people who steal her affections. Billie swallows, resting her hands back in her lap. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I’m not an easy person to get to know.” 

“Please don’t apologize,” you chuckle, shifting forward. “I promise you I understand. Besides, it’s kinda exciting.” 

“Exciting?” Billie drones, looking at you over her lashes. 

“Yes” you laugh. “I’m never bored.” Billie huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes. 

“I’m glad I’m so entertaining for you.” You grin, biting your lip, and your eyes are shining in the candlelight, and Billie wants to kiss you. 

Later in the night, after Billie steals the check from you before you can look at it and you’re walking to your cars arm in arm, you lean your head on her shoulder. Billie stiffens. 

“Maybe next time, we can start talking about the really deep stuff. Like your favorite color.” Billie lets herself grin, chest tight, and rests her cheek against your head. 

“It’s taupe,” she mumbles, and your head shoots up from her shoulder, horrified and disbelieving. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Yes, I’m kidding,” she chuckles, and you press a hand to your heart in relief. “It’s green.” 

“Green,” you echo, resting your head back down, your steps falling in line.

“Like spanish moss,” Billie offers, and you hum. 

“That’s oddly specific.” 

“There’s not much that I miss about my childhood,” Billie breathes. “But climbing all the big oak trees and watching the spanish moss sway in the breeze was…” You lift your head, turning to watch Billie’s furrowed brow and faraway eyes. “It was a nice escape.” 

“Escape from what?” you ask quietly, and Billie swallows, giving you a brief, tight smile. You give her one back, but it’s sadder, more careful, and then you’re leaning in, squeezing Billie’s arm, your thumb across her bicep. It’s a little thing, a small comfort, but it means the world to her. And she’s afraid to look up at you. Afraid she might kiss you. 

“Thank you for coming to dinner with me,” she says, mustering the restraint to meet your eyes. Your arm tightens in Billie’s, and you’re smiling. 

“Thank you for agreeing to come to Norah’s birthday party.” Billie exhales the tightness in her chest. “It’s this Saturday. Don’t forget.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she says, and it’s the truth. An opportunity to see you in any context was something she couldn’t ever pass up. Then you pull her into a hug, tight and warm, and Billie closes her eyes against you, fingers splayed across your back. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Night, Billie.” 

. . . 

Billie’s curled up on her couch the night before Norah’s party in satin pajamas. There’s a steaming cup of tea on her end table and a book nestled in her lap. She’s startled by the sound of her phone ringing but even more startled to see who’s calling. With a deep, settling breath, she dog ears her book and sets it down next to her tea. 

“Hi dad,” she breathes. 

“Good to hear your voice, honey bunches,” he says, that southern twang drawn and tired. She checks the time. South Carolina is four hours ahead of Los Angeles which would make it two in the morning there. Something surges up within her, choked and panicky. 

“What happened?” He lets out a strained chuckle, and she can picture him scrubbing his fingers across his scruffy jaw. 

“Y’know how your mama’s had that cough.”

“No,” Billie shoots back. “I didn’t know.” Her father hums. 

“Musta been Jamie I was talkin’ to then,” he offers. “Your brother actually calls home to check in every once an’a while.” 

“Dad,” Billie groans, pressing her fingers into her temple. “Please just tell me what happened.” 

“She started up that coughing. Couldn’t catch her breath. I pat her back, gave her water,” he sighs, pausing. “There was blood in it, Billie. Curlin’ down like smoke. An’ she just looks up at me with a face I ain’t seen since you up and left. Resigned and so hard. Then she swallows and licks those lips and says, James, get my coat.” The silence on the line is deafening, and Billie numbly registers her ears ringing. “So here we are, Hoffman-Strauss Memorial.”

Billie’s throat is thick, and she blinks once then twice, chest tight. 

“Okay.” Her voice is hoarse. She swallows. “Have you seen a doctor yet?” 

“Just a room. Your mama’s sleepin’. She’s scheduled for a CT at 8.” 

“And Jamie knows?” He hums. 

“She’s too proud to say it, but she wants you to call her.” Billie scoffs, holding her hand over her eyes as she shakes her head.

“The only thing she wants to hear from me is that I’m leaving Hollywood,” she says, suddenly so weary. 

“Set it aside, Billie Dean. Just for a minute,” he tells her, harder this time, with less give. Her shoulders deflate, and she swallows, looking down into her lap. “I love you.” 

“Love you, dad.” When she hangs up, the world feels like it’s tilted on its axis. The last time she spoke to her mother, Billie’s face had been in the tabloids, her name spoken like a disgraced Hollywood starlet. Out of all the things her mother’s ever said to her, that phone call was relatively tame. It was expected, usual. The guilt, the shaming, the moral superiority. And now she’s coughing blood. Some might call that divine intervention. Absently, Billie laughs. It’s a weak chuckle, but it grows. And as it does, Billie’s chest seizes up. She laughs and laughs, but there’s a growing pit in her chest, and she’s starting to feel hysterical. She just can’t stop. And then the laughter turns gasping, and she can’t breathe. And my god, the hardest woman in America is coughing blood. She is a human being. Delicate and fallible. 

Billie presses her palms into her eyes. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

She remembers pressing a wet cloth to the back of your neck when you broke down over Kate, and Billie tries to treat herself with the same patience, the same kindness. What do you need right now? Slowly, she forces her breathing to slow, shuts out everything but the in and out of her breath and the occasional flash of your smile in her mind’s eye, your gentle hands on her arms. Jamie. She hasn’t spoken to him since his birthday. He reminds her too much of her childhood, so she tries to stay away. Not tonight. Her heart is pounding when she presses call, and she feels lightheaded, but she forces herself to stay on the line as it rings. 

“Dad called you too, huh?” he asks when the phone connects, and immediately her breathing evens and slows. 

“Yeah,” she says quietly as the world stops spinning around her. 

“Takes a lot for you to reach out. The news must’ve rattled you.” 

“I’m fine,” she says immediately, rubbing circles in her chest. He scoffs, and she closes her eyes. He hasn’t lost his accent, but it’s weaker now, stilted. Though his voice hasn’t changed, that richness, that unwavering steadiness is still there. 

“Alright. Goodnight, then.” 

“Wait,” Billie starts, and she hears him settle and exhale. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know…” she scoffs and shakes her head. 

“I know,” he says, low and even. There’s a thick silence between them, and Billie remembers his hair, brown and unruly. She always used to ruffle it. She wonders how he styles it now. Is it shorter? How does his wife like it? Does she like that scruff he refuses to shave? Or does he shave it now? They’re little things, she knows, inconsequential really. But it’s the missing she can’t let go of now. The disconnect. 

“How are you?” she asks finally, and he chuckles. 

“I’m alright. Business is tightening with the economy, but we’re fine. Addison’s still with her firm. Could be making partner next year.” 

“That’s great, Jamie, really,” she says with a smile. He doesn’t respond right away. 

“How are you? I saw the magazines.” Her blood runs cold. “Come on, Bill, I know mom ragged you on it.” Jamie’s known she’s a lesbian since high school when he caught her kissing her best friend against the shed one hot summer afternoon. Feeling bitter, Billie stands up. 

“I’m used to her bullshit,” she says, grabbing her cigarettes and stepping onto her balcony. When she lights one, it’s an immediate relief. “The press? Not as much,” she admits. 

“What’s it like bein’ a Hollywood hotshot?” he asks, a laugh in his voice. She takes a deep drag, shaking her head.

“I try not to acknowledge it,” she admits. 

“Me and Addie’ve been watching your show.” She taps ash over her balcony and clenches her jaw. “Don’t get like that,” he drones without ever seeing her face. “It’s good. Really good.” 

“You never used to think it was good,” she says, embarrassed and maybe too bitter. Jamie always stood around a corner and watched when their mother would yell at her, tell her to stop that. It’s not right. As if she had any choice in the matter. As if she wanted to see the dead roaming her house on a Saturday afternoon. She was so alone. And then Jamie would look at her with those big, shameful eyes and turn away to go play with his friends, knees muddy and bruised. Jamie takes a breath on the other line. 

“You really think I had a say in it, Billie Dean?” 

“No,” she replies quickly and then sighs. “No, I don’t,” she adds, softer. “But you could have…” she trails off, rebellious tears welling in her eyes. She takes another long drag, trying to will them away. “Later, you could have…” 

“You mean later when you moved out and didn’t talk to any of us for five years? Or do you mean later when you sent me a Christmas card and spelled Addie’s name wrong.” Billie blushes fiercely, jaw clenched as she looks down, looks away as if Jamie’s staring right at her right now. “I know that your experiences with mom were a lot different than mine, but I ain’t the enemy.” She takes a long drag as she looks out at the skyline. She knows he’s right, but she doesn’t know how to let her body know that. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally admits, blowing smoke into the warm breeze. 

“I’m sorry too.” They’re both silent for a long time. “Listen, Billie. I’m tired. I’m driving in tomorrow. I’ll call you with news, alright?” 

“Alright,” she says, quiet as she looks down at her feet. 

“Try to get some sleep,” he says before the call disconnects. 

. . . 

When the sun comes up, Billie’s neck deep in a scientific journal about lung cancer. Her eyes are red, and her tea is long since cold, and her brow feels permanently furrowed, lips sealed in a hard line. It’s 6:30 when she finally turns her neck in another direction, peels her laptop from her skin, and licks her chapped lips. Her whole body is buzzing and achy, and she swallows, sending a vague text to cancel her things for the day. And then she drags herself to bed and sleeps so fitfully she could barely call it sleep. 

She only wakes up at noon to the sound of her phone ringing. Bleary and dazed, she pulls it toward her, hair across her face. 

“Hello?” she mumbles. 

“They’re gonna do some more tests, but…” Jamie sighs, and Billie feels electricity shoot through her in an icy, terrible jolt. 

“It’s cancer,” she says, cold and empty. 

“Is it surprising?” Jamie chuckles wearily, “she smokes like a chimney.” Billie’s stomach flips and a rush of dizziness takes over. 

“Now what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

. . . 

Billie doesn’t know what to wear to a party like this, but she does have more than enough black for a funeral. Stop. Stop it. Billie wants to scrub her mind clean with a brillo pad. Her chest clenches, and she closes her eyes, willing away the intrusive thoughts that want to swallow her whole. She doesn’t even know what to feel. All she can manage is panic and avoidance. It’s something to deal with later. Not now. Please, not now. She’ll have to make the trip down south. She knows this. It’s inevitable. Christ. 

Instead of digging through her closet, hair still wet after her shower, she walks to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of bourbon. She’s going to a party in two hours. Isn’t that what one does? Drink beforehand? 

. . . 

“Andy’s not coming,” you announce when you enter Norah’s apartment with several grocery bags full of various liquors. 

“What?” Norah asks, poking her head out from the kitchen. She’s unpackaging red solo cups, both shot glass and full size. 

“We had a fight.” 

“Uh oh,” she intones, “what happened?” You sigh, setting down the bags on her dining room table. 

“I told her I didn’t want her at the party.” Norah raises her brow, pressing a hand to her hip patiently. 

“Is everything okay?” You don’t know how to answer that. The excuse you gave Andy was some story about how you always attended Norah’s parties with Kate, and you didn’t want to feel like you’re replacing her this year, and it was thin and unbelievable even to Andy. 

“I’m pushing her away,” you finally admit, eyes squeezed tight. When you open them, Norah’s head is tilted, her eyes soft. 

“Why?” she asks carefully, stepping forward, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I think I feel trapped?” you guess, wringing your hands. “She loves me. She hasn’t said it, but I know she does. And I don’t think I can love her back.” 

“Because of Kate?” 

“Partially. I don’t know. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” you sigh, shaking your head and waving the topic away with your hands. “Let’s just get ready for this party.” Norah gives you a searing look, a hint of a smile on her lips, before continuing on. Though there’s something in her eyes that unsettles you, something she knows that she’s not saying. You chew your lip and try not to think about it. 

#writing #billie dean howard #soften me now #american horror story #ahs #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard x y/n #ahs fanfic #ahs murder house #billie dean howard fanfic #billiedeanhoward

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 17 (The Preparations)

4.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Wedding planning for the upcoming Fett-Pyke nuptials ramps up and you lend a helping hand.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, fingering, unprotected PiV, roughish sex, semi public sex, mirror sex (again!), light roleplay, nicknames per usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), reader has to try a bunch of dresses on but there is no implied body shape or size.

A/N: This chapter precedes The Wedding, a drabble I wrote all the way back in October. You don't have to read it (there is no real plot progression), but Ch. 18 will pick up when the wedding has already taken place 😊 Thank you so much to everyone who reads this series - ilysm! 🥹 Series Masterlist

You would think that with the amount of stress and anxiety you’ve been feeling lately, you were the one getting married.

Din has been out late on security detail every night since the fight with Rotta.  That creeping feeling you had at the BBQ, that something like escalation was just around the corner seems to have materialized as if you manifested it, crashing into your lives without nuance after fight night.  Whatever or whomever is responsible for the incendiary string of misdemeanors seems to have been emboldened by the Hutts’ recent defeat, their humiliation lighting the fuse to a powder keg that you’re sure is just waiting to explode.

You worry for Din - not because you don’t think he can handle himself, but truthfully, you don’t even know what’s out there to worry over.  Din insists on keeping the darker sides of the Family’s business and what he does away from you – which you understood and agreed to, but your imagination can’t help but run wild.  You spend too much of your time away from him worried for his well being and trying to quiet that overthinking part of your brain that loves to indulge in paranoid, imagined scenarios.

In truth, most nights Din comes home perfectly fine – a little stressed maybe, but fine; he’ll unwind a little as you walk Al together, sometimes venting to you about what’s been going on, but other times just reveling in your soft touch and gentle calm.

You don’t tell Din that the calmness you exude for him only surfaces when you’ve laid eyes on him again; that otherwise, you’re a bundle of tightly wound nerves while the two of you are apart.

One day, you don’t know why, but a looming sense of dread hangs over you all day – there wasn’t any particular reason other than possibly your worry and anxiety having been building up for weeks and you had subconsciously reached a breaking point.  Certainly, Din hadn’t said anything or indicated that today was different than any other.  But still, you feel your skin prickling all day and you check your phone more than usual – for what?  You don’t even know.

For the first time that night, you add pacing to your efforts to work out your nervous energy; Al watching, confused, as you do laps of Din’s apartment while waiting for him to come home.

Your head snaps up when you hear uneven footsteps on the stairs and watch as Din stumbles in through the door, holding his hand to his face, blood dripping down to his wrist.  Blinking back tears, you lead Din to the couch and wordlessly climb into his lap with the first aid kit to start cleaning the blood and inspecting his wound.

Din is pissed at himself.  He was careless. 

Tired from the endless nights of patrol and seemingly never-ending malfeasance that requires the Mandos’ constant intervention, he had let his guard down for a minute while Jimmy had gone ahead to check on some Fett Family protected businesses.  It had been long enough for some young punk who must have been hiding in the shadows to get the jump on him.  Ultimately, it didn’t take more then a few minutes for Din to subdue the wannabe thug, pinning him to the ground with his arm across the back of his neck to choke out that this kid worked for the Crymorah Syndicate, but not before Din only half ducked the swing of the baseball bat - hence the blood now pouring out of his head.

The scared and pained expression on your face as you focus on disinfecting and bandaging his bloody cut is making Din feel even worse than the massive headache that continues to pound between his temples.

It’s the first night he takes you up on the offer you brought up at the BBQ: to use you to fuck out his frustrations. 

He takes you right there on the couch.  Facing you away from him, Din holds you wide over his lap, fingering you roughly and playing with your clit until you come.  Once he has you lolling your head back onto his shoulder, he slams you down on his cock and fucks up into you at a demanding pace, taking out his grievances on your lithe, supple body, chasing only his own high.  You’re completely fucked out of your mind, all thoughts leaving your brain except for how good it feels to give yourself over to Din entirely, letting him handle your body and use it for his selfish needs.  Pliant and limp like his own personal fuck doll, Din thrusts into you with a force that causes your breasts to bounce so violently you start to sweat, moaning and whimpering into Din’s neck as you’re jostled without reprieve over his lap; Din grunts low and dangerous in your ear, “So good at taking my cock, baby.  Take it, take it.  Take what daddy gives you.”

He uses you until you’ve come shaking on his length twice more, legs spread so wide they’ve started to ache, body shiny with sweat and voice hoarse from screaming so much.  Only then does Din finish, spilling rope after rope of cum into you, stretching your legs taut with his paw like hands so he can shoot his spend into you as deep as possible and all you can do is let him and take, take, take.

After, he gently closes your legs and pulls out, laying you down tenderly on the couch before fetching a warm cloth to clean you up.  You remain in a completely brain numbed, cock drunk state – every anxious thought and worry having been fucked out of your head.  Your overthinking brain shut off the minute Din entered you and the noise of your stressful thoughts dominated into submission by his punishing cock; you feel nothing but pleasure, relief, peace.  Later while cuddling in bed, Din checks in with you that he hadn’t taken things too far with your offer to let him use you.

Sleepily, you nod and let him know that you’re more than okay.  And it’s true.  The original intent was to give Din an outlet for his frustrations, but now you think that him using you could be just as much for you as it is for him. 

In comparison to the burden of your mental load, the actual wedding planning for Cass’s wedding has been a breeze.

Admittedly, you don’t have to do very much.  Periodically, Lisa will invite you to come taste something or ask you to pick up some samples for her.  Mainly you do research into different vendors that still need to be secured and ask Rory if there’s anyone on the blacklist before sharing your suggestions with Lisa.  If a Rory approved vendor from your list is selected, you usually attend those meetings, feeling somewhat responsible for their performance – what Lisa and Cass don’t know is that the vendors approved for your lists are usually ones that having working relationships with Rory’s boutique – you being to suspect that their relationship with Rory is enough to secure lower than standard prices and higher than usual levels of service.  You buy Rory brunch for three weeks in a row to thank her.

The biggest request to date from Cass is that you attend the bridal dress consultation and bridesmaid dress shopping with them at Rory’s boutique. 

The appointment itself had been a favour you weren’t willing to ask of your friend; knowing the calibre of Rory’s work and the level to which her services were in demand, you didn’t think it right for you to ask her to make any exceptions for you.  But being the elite friend that Rory is, she cleared it with her boss to open up the boutique privately after hours on an upcoming Saturday and extended the invitation after she had already made all the arrangements.

You couldn’t believe it.  It was so incredibly kind.  You cry a little.  Afterall, Rory doesn’t even know Lisa or Cass - she did all this on the strength of her love for you alone.  Rory awkwardly pats your head and just says she can tell that you’ve been under a lot of stress lately and this is such a small thing she could do to help you out.  You cry more.  You hadn’t realized that you had let your anxiety and concern for Din and whatever was happening with the Mandos affect your mood that much; you obviously don’t share with your friends Fett Family business, but that they knew something was up but never pushed you to tell them makes you love them all the more.  Sometimes you’re not sure you deserve your friends.

Today, you decide you definitely don’t deserve Rory.  Helping Cass find her dream dress has been relatively easy - Cass looks gorgeous in everything she tries on, and with Rory’s expertise, she easily pulls five perfect options and gives the proper advice and compliments to help the bride narrow it down to the one.  One of Cass’s aunties proclaims that she’s never been to such an efficient and smooth wedding dress consultation and she has five married daughters – you smile proud: that’s the power of Rory.

But the selection of the bridesmaid dresses is an entirely different matter.  For one thing, only two of the bridesmaids are actually in attendance (one of them is Lisa).  For another, there are seven bridesmaids in total, some of whom even Cass doesn’t know very well and half of them from the Pyke’s side.  Everyone has an opinion, several have sent notes, and no one is available to FaceTime.

You think Rory must pull over fifty dresses.  You stop counting after twenty-five – somehow becoming the doll that all the dresses are modelled on, standing up on the pedestal in front a couch full of women so they can judge the chiffon trimmed monstrosity you have on.  It’s not as easy as just throwing your hands up and letting dress after dress fall over your shoulders and hang smoothly off your body while you sway the fabric prettily.  Some of the sample dresses are too big and requiring copious pinning.  Others, too small, pinch your skin and your sides where the zipper bites into your squishy bits.  Others are too long, causing you to almost fall trying to step up onto the pedestal, and some have so many buttons that your limbs go numb while waiting to be buttoned in or out.  Many of them are very, very ugly.  It’s seemingly impossible to please seven bridesmaid and one bride who all have very different tastes and very different bodies, especially if offending any one of them might incite a gang war.

The women are getting increasingly frustrated and snippy with each other, all while you stand in front of them in a little satin strapless number that is definitely too short (for a wedding) and too small (for you, the back barely zipped and your boobs pushed together comically, close to scandalously spilling out the top).  You’re hot and tired, and the arguing that is only getting louder is starting to creep its way into your shoulders where you’ve been holding all your stress lately.  You’re about to ask for a break and voluntell Lisa to be the next dress model when Rory comes striding back into the room and does it for you.  She’s grinning triumphantly and behind her walks your knight in shining armour: Din carrying a box of baked goods intended to help refuel the women and invigorate the appointment that’s slowly going off the rails.

You don’t wait around to find out if it works.  Ramming yourself into Din’s chest, you let him wrap his arms around you and melt into the comforting warmth of his presence while you breath a sigh of relief - as big of a breath as your too tight dress will allow, anyways.  Unbeknownst to you, Rory makes eye contact with Din over your head and tilts hers discreetly towards a door in the hallway that has a little velvet rope drawn across.  Looking down at your tired face, Din understands her meaning immediately and mouths ‘thank you’ before he starts to walk you in the direction indicated.

“Din?” you look up at him sleepily as you come a stop outside the door which he’s opening gingerly. 

“Don’t worry, pretty bird, no one will bother us here,” he smiles indulgently and directs you up the staircase hidden behind the door, keeping his big firm hand splayed on your back to hold you steady as you ascend.

The stairs lead to the third floor of the boutique which is home to a private consultation room.  It’s similar to the set-up of the room you were in downstairs, but a bit smaller, a little more intimate.  The racks of dresses lining the walls are fewer and the furniture up here is luxurious and fine. 

You heave a sigh of exhaustion and start to move towards the chaise lounge near the window when you hear Din chuckle behind you, “Baby.  What are you wearing?”

“Hey!” you spin around, stress and exhaustion catching up with you, annoyed, “You try on a million dresses and none of them fit, and Elena wants strapless, but Lisa doesn’t want to have to buy a new bra.  Xi’an hates all fabrics but silk and Cass wants it to match the wedding colours, but Morgan’s grandma says green is bad luck.  Sasha thinks that it’s not fashionable to match and that everyone should wear a different style, and Elsbeth wants everyone in a mermaid style but Winnie thinks a train will upstage the bride!!  And I’m not even in the wedding - I’m just trying to help!! It’s so much to take in, it’s not possible to look good too!!”

Din chuckles again - you look so feisty and irritated, breathing heavily in your too short, too tight dress, but he’s finding it terribly endearing.  He doesn’t tell you this because he thinks he might find himself with a shoe thrown at his head, so instead he silently steers you over to the mirror; wrapping one arm around your waist, he hooks his chin over your shoulder and walks two fingers across the tops of your overspilling cleavage, “I didn’t say it didn’t look good, sweetheart,” and starts kissing your neck.

Sighing now from the tingle of Din’s lips on your hot skin, you whisper, resigned, “This thing is like, a bajillion sizes too small.  I can’t believe I even had to try it on.  It’s too short.  Too tight.  Too low cut.”

“Too slutty,” Din murmurs behind your ear as he starts to push the hem of the dress up your thighs, the skirt so short he only raises the fabric a few inches before your white lace panties come into view in the mirror.  You moan a little when you see the hungry look in his eyes reflected back at you.

“Seems to me if it’s too tight, we should just,” Din’s starts to drag the back zipper down very slowly, “… loosen it a little.” You exhale as the fabric around your chest falls away from your body a little, giving your lungs room to expand.  As you take in a few deep breaths, your tits fall out over the top of the dress, exposing your naked curves to Din’s darkened stare, “Well, well, well… what do we have here?”  He reaches up to palm your breasts, groping them gently before rolling your nipples between his thumbs and middle fingers, toying and pinching them just the way you like.  You arch against Din and when you feel his hardening cock press against your ass, you whine, “Oh Daddy…”

“That’s right, pretty bird,” coos Din, he reaches up to wrap one hand around the base of your neck while the other drops from your tits to slip down the front of your panties and gently starts to massage your clit, “Daddy’s going to take care of you.” 

You relax into Din’s hold, letting him guide your head back to rest against his shoulder, softly moaning as he strokes through your folds, “You’re stressed baby, you take on too much.”

“No, it’s okay…” you murmur, eyes still closed.

Din drags his fingers over and around your slit, pressing gently against but never breeching the entrance, pulling a needy whine from your lips which he shushes, “Yeah, you do, pretty bird.  You’re helping so much with this wedding.  You’re stressed worrying about me all the time.  And you have your own work and Al to take care of.  You deserve to be taken care of too, baby.”

And as if he knows you’re about to protest that he does take care of you, Din chooses this exact moment to plunge two fingers into your needy cunt; you would double over from the electric shock of pleasure to your system if Din wasn’t holding you upright.  “Gonna take real good care of you, sweet girl,” he whispers as he starts driving his fingers into you, drinking in your breathy chants of daddy, daddy, daddy, perfectly timed to his thrusts.

“Open your eyes, bunny.  Look how good you look when you’re being taken care of,” commands Din, softly.  You open your eyes and take in your reflection in the mirror: you have a lazy grin spread across your face, Din’s arm crosses over your chest to hold you by the neck but you can still see your exposed breasts, your nipples perky and sensitive.  Your eyes linger over your white lace panties stuffed full with Din’s hand, and your mouth relaxes into a soft ‘O’ shape whenever the movement under the fabric results in a wet squelch from your dripping pussy.  You look depraved and serene all at once.

“Feel so good, daddy,” you purr, as your arms reach up and around the back of Din’s neck, arching your body further into his touch.  Din adds a third finger slowly, hungrily consuming your sharp intake of air and the way your legs quake at the added stretch; when he starts to write your name in cursive over your clit, your knees actually buckle.

“I got you, bun.  Don’t worry, your big bad wolf is here.  Gonna take care of everything for you, little bunny.  All you have to is come,” Din hums, shifting you in the firm embrace of his arm so you rest comfortably against his body, propped up against his thigh while he continues his efforts on your cunt.

Your eyes glassy, you smile dreamily as you continue to watch the way Din works your body over with his nimble fingers; when you start to climb towards your peak, your body instinctively tries to run but Din grips you tight, “You’re close, pretty girl.  Can feel you on my fingers.  Let go and come for me.  I got you, baby.”  His reassuring tone and confident swipes over your swollen nub push you right over the edge and you come with a melodic wail that’s more of a cry of relief than anything.

Fucking you gently through your high, Din murmurs praise in your ear as he pulls you back to Earth, “Did so good for me.  So perfect, sweetheart.  Always come so pretty for me.  Feel good, pretty bird?”

You nod lazily under Din’s jaw, arms still hanging on to his neck as if for dear life.  He chuckles, and through the fog of your post orgasm stupor, you feel Din position your body closer to the mirror, placing your hands against the glass for stability before helping you out of your shoes and underwear.  You feel his warm breath on your neck before he nips playfully at your earlobe and you smile affectionately, mainly to yourself in the glass.  But when you hear him rumble low in your ear, “Gonna fuck you now, bunny,” you brain wakes up and your eyes snap open, “Din!  We can’t!  This isn’t my dress!  And this is Rory’s place of work!”

Din places his hands over yours and gently kisses down your neck, tutting reassuringly, “Uh uh uh, you’re still worrying too much.  Didn’t I say Daddy was going to take care of everything? I’m going buy this dress, and Rory is the one who sent us up here.  You have to let go and let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

He’s right, you do worry a lot; as Din eases his cock between your snug walls you think you should let him take care of all your concerns, no matter how silly. Din sets a slow, languid pace and you grin teasingly at him, already cock drunk, “And what am I going to do with a dress that doesn’t fit, daddy?”

Din grins back at you, “We could use it for role play?”

“Like slutty bridesmaid?”

He starts to thrust a little faster, a little harder, “Or maybe you’re a slutty cocktail waitress looking for a big tip.”  He smirks at the you in the reflection, slutty little you with your tits out, bouncing hard while being railed by your big bad wolf.

“Ohhhhhh yessss, fuck that feels good.  You got a big tip for me, daddy?” you slur, eyes still twinkling despite having gone unfocused.

Din rakes his big hands up your arms and down your sides, grabbing on to your breasts and toying with your nipples before grasping you hard and slamming his cock into you without warning.

Your yelp of surprise quickly turns into bawdy moans as Din continues to rut into you with a force that shakes the glass you’re still bracing your hands on, “Fuck, Din.”

“Maybe one of the dancers didn’t come in tonight and this poor slutty cocktail waitress has to fill in and give me a lap dance,” smirks Din, he’s leveraging one of your favourite roleplay fantasies and he knows it.

You grind back into his crotch, circling your hips as he fucks into you, cooing, “I’m sorry I’m not your regular girl, daddy.  Please don’t be upset.”

Still smirking, Din lays a loud smack to your ass, “Can’t be too upset when I’ve this perfect ass bouncing on me.”  You squeal from the sting and the ease with which you and Din have slipped into this dirty dialogue.

Continuing to pound into you, Din crowds you towards the mirror, open mouth kissing at your neck and focusing on that spot behind your ear that drives you crazy, “Gonna let me take you to the VIP room, baby?  Gonna let me do VIP things to you?”

You whine, “That’s against the rules, daddy!”

Din pushes you into the mirror so your tits are pressed against the glass and growls as he continues to fuck up into your core, “What did I tell you?  No more worrying in that pretty head of yours.  You gonna let me break some rules and wreck this pussy, little slut?”

You know you’re just playing a silly fantasy game, but this is the second time Din’s told you to stop worrying and to let him take care of things – you know there’s some truth behind his words so you give in; you know he’ll take good care of you, “All yours, daddy.  Do whatever you want to me.”

“Good girl,” Din rewards you by snaking his hand down to your clit and giving your throbbing bud the attention it’s been aching for.  He bites down on your shoulder and drinks in your little cry, “Gonna fuck you until you don’t have a thought in that slutty little brain of yours, ‘kay?  I’m gonna take care of it all for you, just trust your daddy.”

He nuzzles his strong, perfect nose into your cheek to press your face against the mirror and you can see the glass start to fog up from how hard you’re panting; the cool surface doesn’t quite feel so cool anymore as you nod the best you can.

Over and over, Din punches the air out of your lungs, and you just take, the patch of condensation on the mirror growing bigger and bigger; you focus on Din’s face, the way his eyes are blown wide with lust and the curl of his lips as he snarls, “Pretty little whore, want me to take you away from this club?  Away from all your worries? Be the only one to fuck you?  Take care of you?”

“Yes!” you cry, you kiss your reflection as your lips smash against the glass with every hard thrust from Din’s cock; your pussy trapping his hand against the smooth surface of the mirror as he continues to draw perfect circles on your clit.

“Then come for me. Give it to me, baby.  Give me ever worry, every anxious thought.  Give it all to me, bunny,” Din coaxes.  Demands.  And you do, you come hard - your walls clamping down on Din’s length, fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm while continuing to pulse down on Din as he comes nearly right after, absorbing your fall and taking it all from you.  He shoots his spend deep and you take from him too, letting him give you everything he’s got.

After pulling you away from the mirror, you watch absent-mindedly as the Din in the mirror holds you upright against his chest until he’s sure you can stand; he helps you put on your underwear and adjusts the tiny dress to cover you up the best he can before leading you to one of the plush lounges.  Laying you down gently, Din covers you with a blanket he finds before you see him go off and disappear into an alcove in the corner of the room.  He must have found a bathroom or a changing room because he comes back with some tissues and helps you clean some of the joint spill that’s now dripping from you, before you watch with some amusement as he cleans the mirror that the two of you defiled.  Thoughtful, thoughtful man. 

When he’s finished, Din comes back to you as he always does, kneels by your head and strokes your hair, kissing you tenderly, “Pretty bird, I mean it.  You’re taking on a lot.  Too much.”

This time when he says it, you’re too placated and pliant to argue, so you just nod, sleepy.

“This dress fitting was too much to ask of you.  And even though it’s in your nature to help, I know you’re really doing this for me.  I ask too much of you sometimes – I know it hasn’t been easy with me coming home late, scaring you with what I might be facing while I’m out.  I’m sorry,” Din looks at you with such a soulful, downcast look, your heart breaks – you bring your hand to his cheek and warm when you feel him leaning into your touch.

“Don’t be sorry.  I love you, Din,” you whisper, trying to let him know with your eyes that you can handle it.  You can handle anything with him.

Din knows. “Let me take care of you too sometimes, okay, pretty bird?  You don’t have to handle it all on your own.”

“Okay,” you smile.  This one word breaks any remaining tension that Din had been holding on to and he leans in, kissing you with devotion, sealing in your promise.

“I think you’re done for the day, sweetheart.  No more of these dresses for you.  I’ll go downstairs and get your stuff from Rory.  I’ll pay for this one you’re wearing now… and then we’ll leave?”

“Sounds good, daddy,” you yawn, closing your eyes.

As Din approaches the staircase, he looks back at you and asks, curious, “Did you try on any wedding dresses today, pretty girl?”

Half asleep, you shake your head, “Nope, just a million bridesmaid dresses.”

“Hmmm,” Din muses, thoughtful, “Bet you would look really good in a wedding dress, baby.”

“Din, don’t even start…” your voice trails off as sleep carries you away, barely registering the conversation that’s taking place.

Din continues down the stairs, humming and grinning stupidly to himself.

The Wedding takes place after this chapter and before Ch. 18, but it's not necessary for the plot to read - just know that when Ch. 18 starts, Cass and Rikard are already married 🥰

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