#COME ON PEOPLE WE ARE MEANT TO BE THE GUN COUNTRY!

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: All you needed was to contain the aphrodisiac, make an antidote just in case, and go home. But working with the 141 was never that simple, and now you and Ghost would find out how it worked. Up close and personal.

Content Tags: Vague kidnapping near the beginning, Sex Pollen, Smut, PiV Sex, Fingering, Fuck or Die, Mild Dubious Consent (consent is gained after pollen gets inhaled), No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: Honest to god, I've been trying to write a story based on this thought alone. I can't even get it started but maybe this will get me. There also needs to be more Omegaverse written for COD, there can be some interesting stuff from it. Lmk if you want more of this, i'm exhausted <3 (p.s. I've changed the summary like, 10 times and idk how to feel about it)

Next, Headcannons, Masterlist

"Gaz, are we clear to enter?" Ghost asked into the comms. Gaz had gone into the building first, alongside Soap, to clear out the path you and Ghost would take. It was almost a straight shot, it felt too easy to get to the weapon you were there for. Maple Syrup, they had called it, even though it was an airborne weapon. You could hear a few shouts of a language, it sounded Russian but you weren't entirely sure, but you didn't have long to dwell on it as they stopped with a few gunshots.

Another few grunts came through before Gaz finally responded. "We're all clear in here, we still need to sweep a few rooms closer to Docs target, but you should be good to enter," he answered. Ghost nodded at you and led the way in, gun resting on his shoulder as he looked every which way. You knew it was a safety precaution, but you trusted Gaz.

You always trusted easily, it was in your nature. You were an Omega, and having trust in the people meant to protect you felt natural. You trusted your pack, even if you hadn't been a part of it for too long.

Maybe you shouldn't trust as easily.

Ghost shoved you into the wall next to you and started firing, bullets whistling past your ears as you ducked low. It reeked of sex, of Alphas and Omegas in heat or rut. Even through the military grade suppressant you could smell it, and it hurt. Ghost ducked around the corner, more gunshots echoing before a grunt came from him, and you heard the sound of a body dropping.

You didn't think before rounding that corner, seeing Ghost on the ground unmoving shook you. You ran your hands over him to feel for blood, but you couldn't see or feel anything. By the time you got to his shoulders, you found a needle trapped between his vest and arm, right in the meaty part of his inner-most shoulder. You plucked it off of him without thinking, tossing it to the side before pressing to feel for anything left inside.

You hadn't noticed the people advancing behind you, had ignored the calling from the comms or footsteps coming from the same direction Gaz and Soap were supposed to be in, but you felt the prick of the needle on your back. With a shout, you fell forwards, catching yourself from falling face first into the ground. You attempted to crawl forwards, get away from the men approaching from the back, but the medication they pumped into you caught up quicker than you could move.

It was with a groan that you sat up, swallowing thickly at the sickly sweet taste in your mouth. You tried wiping your face, but your hands moved slower than they felt, missing twice before wiping the area around your mouth. Pulling your hand back, a thin, dark red coating came back on them. You blinked hard, trying to remember what you had come here for.

The Maple Syrup mist. You couldn't remember much else about it, your mind moving at about the same speed as the namesake for the pollen-like substance. It was airborne. You knew that. There was something especially dangerous about it that a lot of the countries who knew about it wanted it gone. You were hired to make sure that no matter what happened, there was an anti-dote for it.

Something like that.

You blinked back into it when the door to wherever you were creaked open. You glanced up slowly, blinking at the men who entered and grabbed you, speaking loudly at you. What were they talking about? It wasn't Russian, you hadn't been in Russia or near any of their allies when you'd been grabbed.

You wouldn't understand it, your mind was moving at half the speed they were dragging you at. A few twists and turns, some scattered conversation floating around, and being dropped twice was what it took for you to be tossed into a similar room as your first. You laid face first on the ground, the cold helping to clear your head slightly.

Small cramps started in your back, twinging you every few seconds. A voice came over a loudspeaker, whatever they were saying it was something they were very pleased with. You turned, slowly, onto your back before crawling backwards to lean onto the wall behind you.

Maple Syrup. What the hell about it was so important they sent the 141 after it? Something something, military grade suppressants. The suppressants. Maple Syrup could break through military grade suppressants. You groaned, the cramps moving through your back and into your stomach. You could feel the heat, all-encompassing, starting to wash over you.

A loud, long creak echoed from the area to your left, and your head dropped to your shoulder as you turned it to look at the wall. A scent came wafting from the slowly opening crack in the wall, growing headier as the walls fully opened up. It was musky, with leather and tobacco, hints of the gunpowder you often smelled back on base. It made your mouth water.

The groan from the corner directly next to you startled you back into the present. As your eyes adjusted to the new lighting between the two rooms, a dark shape became clearer in the corner. A skull mask was lying tossed a few meters from it, and as your vision cleared up more, you could tell it was Ghost.

His head hardly moved as his eyes found yours, staring through you from beneath the balaclava.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" He grumbled, deep in his throat.

"Dosed with Maple Syrup," you whispered back, and his head fell back down between his legs.

A short, harsh sound came from him, it had to be a laugh, "then what's gonna happen to us?"

"When was your last natural rut?" You looked at him, licking your dried lips. You could see his head move sharply from your peripheral, his eyes flittering up and down. He shook his head, another dry laugh coming from him.

"It's that bad?" You nodded. "Probably since I took my last, longer leave. I think it was four or five years ago, but I don't remember," you blinked slowly. The levels of androstenone in him would be high, especially without a rut to keep him leveled, and the Maple Syrup would only force him to produce more. Too much, and he'd die of something. Whether it would be heat stroke, or dehydration you had no idea.

"If you don't pop a knot or two, you'll die. Heat stroke, maybe dehydration, but you'll die. I don't know the exact amount of androstenone inside of you, but if it gets too high you could be forced into a feral rut," you glanced over at him, his eyes scrunched shut, a low groan coming from his throat. He glanced back up to you, his eyes softened and fear started to lace his scent.

Ghost shook his head. "If I go feral, I'll kill you. I can't, Doc, I don't wanna kill you," his voice grew more strained as his sentence wore on.

"I'll be fine," you gave him a soft smile. "I'm going to go into heat, and if I don't get a knot, I'll die. I don't know if the weapon shit is able to counteract the birth control part of the suppressants, but I don't feel good. I need you to fuck me, Ghost," you whispered the last part. He shook his head. "You have my permission, so it's up to you to act," you swallowed again, eyes shutting as sweat beaded down your neck.

It was getting hot. Too hot, and you could feel your slick pooling and soaking through your pants. You could smell it, and you knew he could smell it. You could hear the panting breaths he took, the grunts he let out. A long, low growl came from him and his heavy steps inched closer to you.

Ghost grabbed you by the back of your neck, shoving you forward into the ground and scenting your throat deeply. He tore at the neck of your shirt, ripping it to let him get more of your scent. He licked a long line, sucking into the base of your neck softly as his teeth grazed along it.

He stuffed his fingers under your pants and panties, leaving you whining as two of his fingers brushed past your clit and buried into you. Even feral, the Alpha was trying to take care of you. They curled and pressed against you, leaving you writhing under him as you whined for more.

Pleasure blossomed in your abdomen, the heel of his hand grazing against your clit with each pump his fingers made, leaving you throbbing around his fingers. Ghost was able to get one more finger in you, nosing up your neck before sucking a dark hickey into your neck, teeth grazing along your neck and nipping you here and there, soothing it with a lick.

He tugged his fingers out of you, dragging your pants and panties down before shoving his down as well. He rutted his cock against your folds, soaking himself in your slick before sliding inside of you. A long, loud moan tore out of your throat as he kept sliding further and further into you, bottoming out with a growl from him.

Writhing against him with your mouth hanging open, he dragged himself out of you before rutting back in. Your nails scratched against the floor beneath you, you could feel your heartbeat in your clit and Ghost against your back.

Licking and sucking at your scent gland, Ghost dragged his face against it and growling. You could feel him throb inside of you, heat flooding you with his cum. A long whine came from your throat, hips pushing back and out against him as his fingers found your clit, rubbing in soft but quick strokes. Heat shredded through your abdomen, sliding through the rest of your body as your orgasm tore through your body.

You could feel your clit pulse with each heartbeat, his fingers not waning from stroking it, shocks flowing through you with each stroke. You thought you could feel tears pouring down your face, mouth wide open as you groaned. Ghost pulled out, letting you drop to the ground on your stomach before he flipped you over, pulling your legs to his shoulders and rocking his cock back inside of you.

Dropping your head back, your mouth still gaped open as he filled you once more. You could feel his knot catching onto you each time he thrust, leaving you whining. Ghost dropped back down, mouthing at your scent gland once more, leaving his open for your own mouth.

Pushing his balaclava away from his gland, you took licks of his for yourself. He tasted good, so good, his scent flooding into your mouth, you had to pull back just enough so that you could breathe. He grunted with each thrust, his abdomen brushing against your clit with every other thrust, your legs pushed into your chest.

Each thrust left you whining for more, faster, harder even if he couldn't hear or understand you through the feral rut. You felt tears pooling in your eyes again, dripping down your face as you gasped with each thrust, cunt throbbing around him as his knot caught more and more with every thrust until he couldn't pull out anymore. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt a sharp, stinging pain radiate from your neck before it heated into what almost felt like agonizing pleasure.

It burned white hot and you clawed at his arms, hips bucking against his, which were just barely thrusting against you, trying to pump you full and pump deep.

When he finally released your neck, he let out a long groan as his own orgasm seemed to finally wash over him. Ghost let his head drop to your shoulder, his hips trying to thrust harder and you couldn't stop yourself from biting down on his own gland in turn.

It was hard to see the way his mouth dropped open under the balaclava and his eyes roll back, but from what you could see it left you moaning against his neck.

It took you a few minutes to come back to when you released his neck. All you could taste those few minutes was Ghost, nothing more. You had to gasp for actual oxygen as his taste nearly embedded itself in your mouth.

From the moment you released his neck, to the moment you became more aware of what was happening, he had adjusted you to sitting in his lap with his back against the wall. You could hear him talking, but your mind was gone. There wasn't pain, but you weren't entirely comfortable. Your neck was sore, and your cunt was still throbbing around him.

He nuzzled your neck, lapping at your now marked gland.

Ghost wasn't entirely sure what would happen, neither of you would be able to hide the marks and even so, he would have to report this. He figured it wouldn't matter, for now, he could wait to figure everything out until you got medevacked and taken care of. Price would know what to do, he always did.

Next

[cupidkenji]

Hi!

I love Doctor, Doctor, please listen! The way you wrote about the differences between the two that were apparent at first and then how they were actually similar! 🫠

Would you be interested in doing a follow up for the same reader who still refuses to carry a gun, but then she and Spencer are in danger and an unsub is about to kill Spencer, so she breaks her rule and uses Spencer’s gun to shoot the unsub? She doesn’t have to shoot to kill, but just to protect Spencer.

Like maybe she got injured first and didn’t defend herself but the moment it’s about to happen to “her Doctor”, she knows what she has to do.

(If youre not interested, totally get it!!!) thank you for reading!

ANON YOU'RE A GENIUS OH MY GOD Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Guns, mention of violence towards a kid, reader gets stabbed (again), death mention, mention of reader getting a leg amputated WC: 909 This is a little spin-off of my first fic which you can read here but it can be read as a standalone as well

Things had escalated fast. The team had profiled a calm, rational unsub. She was acting more out of desperation than anything, nobody thought an attack was plausible. You had ruled out a partner early into the investigation, the kills were too mundane for that of two people. Even now, with said partner having killed the unsub, you still wondered how the companion could have possibly hid herself so well. The partner was armed, clearly the dominant of the two, it became an obvious case of master/servant. 

It was just you and Spencer here, Hotch was following close behind but his ETA was around 6 minutes. You didn’t have 6 minutes. She had gotten you good, coming out angry and ready to take out as many as possible. Your leg paid the price as she dove at you. You aimed for the floor, just needing to get out of her way, but you’re about 60% sure she sliced right through your Achilles. It would take all the energy you had to get back up, leaving you stationary and practically useless on the floor. 

The woman was clearly struggling with paranoia. She ditched the knife she struck you with in favor of waving her pistol around. She was incredibly animated as she spoke, throwing her hands in tune with her words as she argued with the air around her. Soon, as though a decision had been made, she set her sights on Spencer. Up until this point, he’d been helping you stop the blood pouring from your leg. You saw her make up her mind, and knew you had to act quick. She was coming for him. 

“Spencer, give me your gun.” You said it quickly and near silently, thanking the heavens he was so close to you. You discreetly laid your hand on the ground, and he placed it on your open palm. His back was towards her, it was up to you to protect him now. 

“You people think the whole world is up for you to dictate, you know that? You can never just let people be.” She was panting, hauling Spencer up from the floor and walking him against the wall at gunpoint. “We were fine! Nobody was ever even meant to get hurt, but you all can never just let people make mistakes.”

You were hiding the gun with your arm, if she saw it she could snap. “We understand mistakes, ma’am. But sometimes people get hurt. Don’t you think it’s fair the people you wronged get some justice?” You tried, but in your professional opinion this woman was already too far gone. 

“No! Don’t say it like that! We didn’t mean to hurt that kid, ok? We just got carried away.” She was rising, there was no talking her down. “You could have let us go, we would have left the country.” It was horrific, she was crying - remorseful. “But now - now I have to kill you and I don’t even want to.”

“Put down the gun, ma’am. Please.” One last bargain. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”

She only cocked the gun as a response, raising her hand to aim the pistol at Spencer’s temple. 

“I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You didn’t have a choice at this point. This was the first time in your entire career you’d been forced to hurt an unsub. You’d never been anywhere without a team to back you up. This time it was your finger on the trigger. The angle you were aiming from - crooked, while lying on the floor - made it incredibly difficult to predict where the bullet would end up. You aimed low, crossing your fingers it would shock her away from Spencer. She can’t hurt him. It was the only thought left in your head. Please don’t hurt him.

–

You found yourself in the back of an ambulance. Again. The wound was more severe this time, Spencer glued to your side for the trip to the ER. You were going to need surgery to repair the nerve damage she caused.

“I hate hospitals.” Dread pooled in your gut at the thought of going under the knife. Spencer looked at you appalled. He couldn’t believe you were complaining about the service that was going to save you from an amputated leg. Or in other words, he was panicking. 

“Are you kidding me? You’ve lost enough blood to fill half a milk carton, Y/n! The fact they think you’re going to keep your leg means you got luckier than 67.2% of patients with similar stab wounds. Have a little gratuity.” His face was flushed, the hand gestures that usually accompanied his words were otherwise forgotten about. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna be ok.” You looked in his eyes from where you laid on the stretcher. Sounding out each word a little more purposefully in order to calm him down. 

“You shot someone. You’ve never even had to detain someone. I know how much you prioritize peace, Y/n.” Ah, so that’s why he was worked up. 

“Spence.” You laughed a bit - endearingly - at how worried he was about you breaking a vow. “She was going to hurt you. I would have killed her if I had to.” He looked so fragile in the vehicle’s stark lighting.

“Really? You mean that?” The kinder way of saying would you have done that for the others? 

You smiled at his words. “Only for you, Doc.”

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Five - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, and Chapter Four! Masterlist :)

Chapter Five - Maybe Givin' Us A Shot

Tyler’s touch instantly calmed your whole body, even if it made you jump at first. Something about the rough yet soft hands made you melt. You couldn’t quite explain it, but it was something you definitely were not used to. 

“We should be at our destination in about 15 minutes, better get your boots back on,” he laughed, giving your hand a light squeeze.

While on the drive you decided to get extra comfortable by taking your boots off and putting your feet on the dash. You slowly pulled your hand away from his, feeling the warmth instantly leave your fingers. Sliding your boots back on, the radio playing ‘Chattahoochee’ by Alan Jackson. You smirk, turning the radio up to the volume it was that morning. 

“Well, way down yonder on the Chattahoochee, it gets hotter than a hoochie coochie,” Tyler sang with his whole heart, stealing his hat back from you, “We laid rubber on the Georgia asphalt, we got a little crazy but we never got caught.”

“Down by the river on a Friday night, a pyramid of cans in the pale moonlight,” you sang, pulling on your other boot, “Talking ‘bout cars and dreaming ‘bout women, never had a plan just livin’ for the minute.” 

“Yeah, way down yonder on the Chattahoochee, never knew how much that muddy water meant to me,” you both sang loudly, “But I learned how to swim and I learned who I was, a lot about livin' and a little ‘bout love!” 

“Y’know, princess,” he said while turning the radio down so you could hear him. 

You hummed in response, looking over at him as he took a right-hand turn into the parking lot of the Black Mesa State Park visitor center. 

“I could get used to this,” he said, getting a sheepish grin on his face. 

You smiled and chuckled, “I hate that I could say the same, just don’t let my team know.” 

“Why do you say it like that?” He asked, pulling into a parking spot. 

“Because I love my team and what we do more than you know, but sometimes it would be nice to be able to jam out to the music I enjoy while in a chase. No one wants to listen to Alan Jackson or Alabama,” you said, pulling your purse strap over your shoulder, “They always want to listen to Metallica or Guns N’ Roses. They aren’t bad musicians by any means, I just grew up on country music.” 

“I give the wranglers no choice,” he laughed, “My truck, my music.” 

“I wish it worked like that for us,” she said in almost a scoff, shaking her head slightly. 

“You’re welcome to ride passenger princess whenever you would like in Ol Red,” he said, getting out of the truck and doing a slight jog to your side. 

“I appreciate it, Ty,” you said, stepping out of the truck as he opened the door for you, “But I think Boone would be heartbroken.” 

“He’ll live,” he said, shutting the door and locking the truck. 

You laughed and Tyler put his hand on your lower back as you both walked to the entrance of the park; for it being a beautiful day there weren’t many people there. While walking down a small trail you couldn’t help but enjoy the sounds of nature and the presence of Tyler. One of your lifelong loves and soon-to-be the love of your life, but you didn’t know it yet. 

“I know it may not seem like much, but this is a special place to me,” he said, walking up to a fallen tree that was turned into a bench overlooking the plains, “Before I was old enough to chase storms, I’m talking high school age Tyler, I’d come here and watch them from afar while keeping an eye on their direction.” 

“I used to do something like that when I was young, I would always watch them out the big picture window. Otherwise, I’d go on a hill nearby if the next town over was going to be hit,” you said, “Being 10 or 11, I felt useless when it came to warning people about tornados.”

“I understand, I felt the same way when I was younger. I was actually terrified of them until I learned the beauty of them,” he said, watching some of the smaller clouds cross the vast blue sky, “Whenever I feel lost or if I start feelin’ like the wranglers have done all they can do, I come out here and remember why we’re here and what all we can do to help others before, during, and after the disaster.” 

As Tyler talked, you couldn’t feel anything but a strong surge of what you could only explain as love rushing through you. He was so much like you, but also so unlike each other at the same time. 

“I don’t know what it is about you, (Y/n),” he said, “But I feel drawn to you like I am to twisters.” 

“And to think I thought the YouTube star persona was who Tyler Owens was,” you chuckled to yourself, “Turns out he’s just a big ol teddy bear.” 

“Just don’t tell anyone, k?” He said, leaning back and looking at you, “I’d never hear the end of it.” 

“I suppose I can keep that secret, just tell me one thing tho, honey,” you said, “Why’d you never ask me out before last night?” 

You calling him honey and having it sound genuine threw him off, were you actually falling for Mister Tornado Wrangler himself, Tyler Owens? He took a second to comprehend what you asked. 

“I don’t really know, the only person who knows I like you is my aunt back in Texas,” he said, picking at the bark on the bench, “I’ve kept it hidden in fear of it being rushed into or… I don’t know, having others pressure me about it.” 

“Are you saying that you were scared?” You asked, leaning back and looking out at the never-ending small hills. 

“I guess in a way you could say I was,” he said, chuckling to himself, “I can chase an EF5 tornado with no fear yet I don’t have the guts to even ask you out.” 

You sat there in silence for a few minutes, taking your hand and putting it on top of his that was rested on his thigh. 

“It’s better late than never, Ty,” you said, giving his hand a slight squeeze, “I can’t say I was that brave myself.” 

He looked over at you and asked, “What do you mean?” 

“I didn’t even know if I liked you as a person, or if I was secretly jealous of all the success you have with the Tornado Wranglers team,” you said sheepishly, “There were so many close calls over the last few years where the Storm Riders wanted to call it quits and go their different ways and quit chasing. So I had to give a pep talk to all of them and remind them of the good we do in researching the deadly beasts and getting warnings out sooner for others.” 

“If it happens again, let them go. If it’s meant to be, they’ll come back,” he said, “But until they did…you could ride in Ol Red…” 

“I think this year being such a success with storms and calling the right cells has helped a bunch, but I know Jade and Tristan want to start a family and as much as Willow loves me, she wants to go pursue modeling,” you sighed, “So deep down I feel like it was the last year for most the team. Asher and Finn would never leave unless I disbanded the team, neither of them have a life outside of chasing.” 

“They’re more than welcome to join us if that does happen,” he said, “Two drones would be kind of cool in videos.” 

“Oh shut up,” you said while playfully smacking his chest.

“Just imagine the views, Princess!” He said getting excited. 

“I mean, yeah, it’d be sick,” you said, “But it’s also about learning more about how twisters work.” 

“Yeah, but picture this. Two drones in the air getting a 360 view of us in Ol Red shooting fireworks off!” He said, getting up and motioning with his hands pointing finger guns into the sky. 

“Never did I think we’d go from a deep conversation to giggling like little kids,” you laughed. 

“We gotta do it!” He said, turning around and having a huge smile plastered on his face. 

You laughed while shaking your head, “I’ll talk to the team, but for now, sit your ass down.” 

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said, giving you a sheepish smile and sitting back down next to you, “So what do you think?” 

“About?” You asked, propping your boots up on his lap.

“What else would I be asking you about?” He chuckled and looked over at you with one of his eyebrows raised. 

“I mean, we were just talking about drones and a firework show in a tornado,” you said with your words trailing off and rubbing the back of your neck. 

“True,” he said, “But I’m asking ‘bout maybe givin’ us a shot…” 

Want more? Here's Chapter Six!

[buzzkillers]

FABLES & PARABLES 3|?

Summary: You try to find relief from the curse. The relief follows you home.

Warning: NON-CON (due to sex pollen) , religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART ONE PART TWO

“Where are you going?” You asked.

The beach-” Your roommate answered, almost soundlessly. Before she took a glance at the pile of blankets and dissertation papers you've become. “I would invite you but you seem too comfy bedrotting to join."

You looked at the mess you’ve become. At the smell you were for sure letting off. But you didn’t want to move. Moving meant having to look at people and trying not to jump them. Moving meant, your guts being twisted and heart aching and the inability to focus on anything but the dryness of her tongue coming back tenfold.

But your roommate was looking at you like that. Like you were a lost cause, and suddenly you remembered where you were. In a new country that you probably couldn't afford to visit again. And you were what? Sitting on your ass? You probably came off like a loser. She probably regretted even bunking with you. So you ignored the twist in your gut, and you smiled. Like a gun was to your head. “Nah, i wanna go.”

“Oh really?” she cocked her head, eyes squinted.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll be good to get some damn fresh air.”

—-

It was not good for you.

You underestimated just how much being inside actually alleviated the cramps that twisted in your gut. The moment you stepped on hot sand, you could just about fall to your knees. But you put up a good front. Instead, you sat at the bon fire that flicked and licked at the sky. A quick wick and you laughed until you felt bile reach up your throat and your eyes linger on everyones body a little bit longer than usual. There's skin showing everywhere and you’re not hiding it. Your eyes lap on exposed skin, crinkled locs, cushioned breasts and the over affectionate throwing of hands put on you.

You were all bundled around a fire.

Combined with your internal heat, you could just about say that you were in hell as your tummies settled with the alcohol and weed gummies. Ok maybe you were being dramatic. This actually was kind of nice. Even if you were currently running hot enough to boil the Atlantic sea. Before around you, murmuring and loud conversations took over the sound of the fire.

“I swear to fucking god,” said one of your classmates with their arms stretched out in the dirt. It was a dude with sallow brown eyes, his hair a wave of braids and sea beads and dark skin that glimmered so much under the moonlight that he kind of looked like a mermaid. Or maybe you were just too crossfaded. He grumbled at the fire. “Im getting a fucking refund, we haven't done shit.”

You all hummed in agreement. Or well you tried to, you hummed and it was more of a strangled gasp. Painful and lacking relief. You felt like shit, looked it too, with sweat beading down your face, as your entire body went slick with perspiration. The fire made it worse. It was taunting you. Each lick and flame forcing even your swimsuit to go damp and damn maybe you were too high.

Whatever.

The merman was right. This was a waste of a trip and none of you actually went to the landmarks you needed. Well, one tried but she simply got stuck in the rain. And then it took her an entire two hours to get back, that was a good enough warning for the lot of you.

“Teotihuacan will be better.” You somehow managed to say cause it had to be, it just had to. This was simply a fluke and this sickness was a fluke and it didn’t take long for everyone to agree and continue muttering more of their grievances before they decided to do something else.

A midnight swim, they said as you guys dipped into the waters. The smell of salty sea and the sunscreen you hazardly sprayed on before you got here invading your nose. Of course, this was probably a stupid idea. You expect that after you put a foot in, somehow the sensation of being high and drunk and then hot and now wet would successfully force you into an early coma.

You pushed forward anyway.

Slowly, you dipped in feet first, the water kissing your knees, till it's wrapped around your neck and you waited, and waited but the consequences never came.

Instead, it's a relief.

A jaw numbing, deep inhaling, blood curdling relief. It's a fist unclenching, and your body going lax as you dipped into the water and felt it cradle you like a babe with its waves in your hair and the rushing of currents at your calves.

In the water you quaked and you swallowed. Then there's a hand on your shoulder. Warm and insistent. As the water breezed over you, washing over your face until the currents embrace felt like fingers that brushed against your thigh. Until it felt like multiple wet, slimy hands were at your hips. Caressing your skin, then digging and pulling and, what happened next was kind of foggy but you remembered one thing. The sight of opal skin, talons at your breast and oh yes–

You started screaming.

.

.

And everyone stared.

–

Somehow afterwards, when the staring turned to worried concern and then uncomfortable silence; you had got up and stumbled to the hotel.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadow followed in your footsteps, a storm covered in golds and jade as the trees protested and the wind whistled in warning, in urgency. It was a malleant effort, but you continued to stumble on the path to the hostel and the shadow continued to watch, to stalk, in faint curiosity and then finally poorly veiled anger. Everything after that was sort of a dream really. A very terrible dream.

____

The hostel was a nightmare of jagged shadows and a creaking AC unit. A place where you didn’t remember taking the elevator nor did you remember stumbling to your room, keycard in hand as the floor slipped beneath your feet. Through the floorboards a song washed through you, a smooth melody, hypnotic and moving you to action but not to speak.

If you were asked to speak, it would not be possible. If you did anything it'd be as if you were stumbling through molasses as the door closed behind you-maybe?- and heat uncurled itself in your lungs and dug its way through your ribs. You felt drunk, high on a drug that you didn’t remember consuming. And if your frontal lobe wasn’t lagging at 2 bits per second, you might’ve been plagued with the question of why and then maybe, with a whisper, help. Please help.

Help with the fire that was beginning to curl in your belly and help with the numbness in the back of your mind and help with the incessant belief that something was fundamentally and irreversibly wrong.

Instead, you crumbled to your knees. Your vision nothing but a ragged cut of film that's been glued together and sewn haphazardly into something that might’ve been memories before you’re back on your feet.

Below, the murmurings and whispers of the tenants bled through the walls, a buzzing t.v, singing children and running baths. “Water.” you think you said, or maybe you just thought it. It was water that made the pain go away wasn’t it? Ocean water but what was the difference between that and what came from the tap? A few minerals and chemicals?

A hum wracked through the room, deep and spellbinding. It could only have come from you.

Then you blinked and you’re in the bathroom. You shifted and your swimsuit shedded off. Outside, wind whistled through an open window.

Another shiver licked up your spine, the skin of your bones rattling. The front door was open again. You should close it. But your bones had turned soft and the floor continued to lean forward, then backwards, the light overhead blinding you. You didn’t close the door.

The music only got closer.

And your hands are pressed into the sink, you're too scared to look in the mirror. It's been like that alot recently, ever since the illness started. Too afraid to look at the black screen on your phone, too afraid to see your reflection in puddles, too afraid to confirm a gnawing sensation. A question that you didn't want an answer to. Behind you, the bath ran hot. The steam clouded your lungs. So you kept your head down, focused instead on the rush of water from the tub you didn't turn on and on the clothes you didn't remember taking off and you took a deep breath.

In response, the bathroom door thumped with a slow, nauseating knock.

You would only have to turn your head.

It would be like the turn of a knob. It would be nothing, it was probably your roommate or your teacher checking on you but you could not look up. Fear kept your focus down as your hair raised and your body shivered.

The tub was still running.

You blinked and you were in the bathroom, in the tub. Everything was ice cold, a turbulent tundra against your veins. And then, the sun stood in your bathroom. A star encompassed in what could only be golden clothes and jewels that twinkled under the fluorescent light.

The sun sighed. "Mortals…..difficult" he turned off the tub. Your feet tangled with muscled calves, a head laid in the crook of your neck.

"I." was all you could say between chattering teeth. It broke through a cotton fog. Something thick and dense that curled at the edge of your skull, buried against bone.

More gold filled your vision. Golden skin, golden jewelry, golden heat that pressed against your skin and made the water overflow from the weight of him.

"Shhh," they whispered, like a melody, like a death sentence before calloused hands pressed into your cheek.

“You’re whining like a hatchling left behind by their mother.” Then a finger brushed at your braids.

“Did you want me to hear you?” He asked.

His voice low in a way that reminded you of ocean currents, of the washing of sand across a beach floor. And in the back of your mind, there's something like a warning. A flashing red light that pounded against your head till the song came back tenfold, and you all but collapsed in the man's arms.

“Who-” Your tongue went heavy in your mouth. What were your trying to say?

A chuckle followed, dry and humorless.

“You pray for me at my altar. You lay yourself bare in the water. You run from me. And yet you ask me who I am?” "

Above you, the stranger shifted. "I should kill you."

Then your legs were being pried apart. Your cunt suddenly split by thick fingers with a thumb on your clit. And just like that, the last remnants of the heat that seemed to plague you for the past couple of weeks washed away, all of that pain and overexertion collapsed into everything but a distant memory. And suddenly you felt silly. The store owner couldn’t have done this, your fingers couldn’t have done this and the familiar need to not be alone, to be surrounded by those that you knew for safety, for relief couldn’t have done this either.

How much time did you waste looking for relief that seemed to only be brought on at this moment.

Above you, the stranger grumbled. “Just know that I am a gracious God.” As the water slipped into your eyes and your lips gasped for breath as if for the first time. "That I am the keeper of promises." Above you the bathroom lights twinkled like stars and the tiled walls gleamed, filling you with glimpses of white, white, white; till your back arched and the orgasm crashed into you like the water, like the stranger whose fingers digged into your ribs.

“There you are.”

And then he was between your legs, something bigger replacing his fingers. “There you are.”

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 9) - 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)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Chapter 9

“Mitsu, come on. Mitsu, don’t.” You tighten your grip on her arm and pull harder, even though she’s drunk in six-inch heels and could topple over if the wind blows the wrong way. “It’s not worth it –”

“You hear that, you piece of shit? It’s not worth it.” Mitsuko’s imitation of your de-escalation tone isn’t as good as Tenko’s, but it sounds pretty bad when she’s using it to jeer at a couple of sidekicks. “Just like you and your fucking friends decided that my best friend’s life wasn’t worth it –”

“Mitsu –”

“When you left her under an apartment building one of you knocked down for six fucking hours!”

“We weren’t even there,” one of the sidekicks shouts at her, and Mitsuko spits at him. “Ugh! You crazy bitch –”

You suck in a breath, and so does everybody else. This fight has drawn a crowd, and you see at least one phone out, one camera on. Someone’s just caught a hero on camera cursing out a grieving civilian. You see the hero blanch. He turns towards Mitsuko. “I didn’t mean –”

“No, you said what you meant. You’re all the same,” Mitsuko sneers. “So big and bad, except when it counts. Fuck you.”

Mitsuko has a flair for the dramatic, even when she’s so drunk she can’t see straight. She turns to you. “Come on. Get me out of here before I puke on my shoes.”

You hustle her off down the sidewalk, leaving the crowd and the heroes behind, cursing yourself for letting this happen. It was your job to keep an eye on Mitsuko tonight, to keep her out of trouble, and now she’s on camera starting shit with a hero. Now that you think about it, so are you. Nobody’s going to remember you, not when Mitsuko’s there, gorgeous even with supposedly waterproof mascara running down her face, but it’s not a good thing. There are probably a grand total of eight people who think it’s a good thing, and you’re on first name (or code-name) terms with all of them.

Mitsuko comes to a stop, doubles over – then straightens up. “I need to pee,” she says. “Let’s go to Kamino. I want to pee on that statue.”

“Kamino’s a long way away. You sure you want to hold it that long?”

“Right. I should find a place to pee now,” Mitsuko says. “Then by the time we get to Kamino, I’ll have to pee again.”

There’s no way you’re letting Mitsuko get filmed peeing on a statue of All Might, no matter how much of a kick your new friends would get out of it. You take a deep breath and pull out the big guns. “Is this really how you want to honor Hiro? You know watersports weren’t her thing.”

Mitsuko snorts, then grimaces. Stomach acid in the sinuses will do that. “There’s only one way to honor Hiro,” you continue, “and you know what it is.”

“What is it?”

“Bone Endeavor, film it, and use the tape to ruin his life.”

Mitsuko bursts out laughing. Then crying. You’ve been seeing that a lot lately, anywhere and everywhere – on friends, patients, strangers, and more often than not, on your own face in the mirror.

Japan is reeling from the Kamino incident. You’re not watching world news, but you’re pretty sure the world is doing the same – it’s not every day that a country’s Number One hero goes down on national television. The wreckage of Kamino Ward has already been resurfaced, some of the remaining buildings reinforced but the rest knocked down to create a nice big concrete square for the Kamino Memorial Park, complete with a big statue of All Might. The All Might statue takes up most of the space. The walls featuring the names of the victims are off to the sides. New names are still being added every day.

The windows still haven’t gotten fixed at your clinic, and in addition to a dust and street debris problem, you’re having an animal problem. You chased a bat out with a broom and wound up needing rabies shots, which left you well-equipped to deal with the raccoon that showed up a week later. You’re working a lot, for a lot of reasons. It keeps you out of your apartment during the day or night, leaving it safe for the League’s use. You need the money. And as long as you’re busy with work, with the extra classes in trauma treatment you’ve started taking, or trying to keep Mitsuko from self-destructing, you don’t have to think about what happened at all.

Kazuo’s been keeping busy, too, but your other friends don’t have that option. Mitsuru’s job was in Kamino, in a business that was destroyed, and he doesn’t have a new one yet. Ryuhei hasn’t worked in a while, courtesy of his record, and Yoshimi’s so sick from her treatments that she can’t work at all. In spite of that, Mitsuko’s still the one you’re most worried about. She was closest to Hirono. She’s always had a lot of anger – like you, except you bury it so deep that you sometimes forget it exists. She doesn’t forget. And right now she thinks she doesn’t have anything to lose.

You and Mitsuko were supposed to have a wild night on the town, but after throwing up in two trash cans and one alleyway, Mitsuko’s ready to go home. You’re ready to take her home, too, and you let her sling one arm around your shoulders as you shuffle along. “You know, I can’t work it out,” she mumbles in your ear. “Kazuo I understand, but you? It’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“How calm you are,” she says. “Like, right from the start. You love Sho and Hiro just like we do, but you’re – calm. Don’t tell me you got religion about it.”

“No,” you say. “I’ve just done this before.”

It’s not untrue. You’ve lost a friend before, but you didn’t cope well at all, and even if you had, this isn’t the same. You’re miserable about losing your friends, but mourning them visibly isn’t something you’re allowed to do. Not when you’re responsible. All you can do is try to fix it, or at least try to make sure Mitsuko makes it home in one piece, without passing out somewhere or clawing a hero’s eyes out with her acrylic nails.

As you’re helping her unlock her apartment, an idea occurs to you. “Hey, why don’t you come with me to Yoshimi’s appointment tomorrow? I have to go to work, so I can’t stay long, but it would really make her feel better if you stuck around with her at the clinic.”

Mitsuko looks lukewarm on the idea. “I don’t think she wants me there. I’m not very good at comfort.”

“How about just company?” you say, and she shrugs. It irritates you to the point where you play a card you shouldn’t. “Hiro used to.”

“Don’t guilt-trip me,” Mitsuko says. It’s quiet for a minute. “Fine. I’ll sit with her. This time. Then it’s back to you.”

“Sure,” you say. You’re pretty sure you can make it so it’s not just this time.

You say goodnight to Mitsuko, stop at a convenience store for supplies on your way home, and drag yourself into your apartment building. Before you unlock the door, you have to brace yourself. In spite of Tenko’s insistence that you aren’t left alone with the League, there have been at least a few times in the past three weeks that you’ve come home to at least one villain in your apartment.

After Tenko and the others left, after you went to Kazuo’s and stayed up all night, drunk and mourning your friends from under the weight of your guilt, the first thing you did was buy a whiteboard. You hung it on the back of your front door, and each day, you write your schedule on it, letting Kurogiri know what times you’ll be out, when it’s safe to bring villains over for a break. You can tell when they’ve been there, even if you don’t see them – things will be out of place, or food will have disappeared, or you’ll find a ton of black hair dye stains all over the shower. You don’t care that Dabi dyes his hair. You just wish he’d rinse the shower out afterwards.

Sometimes the villains leave notes for you on the whiteboard – Magne commenting on the tragic state of your makeup collection, Spinner apologizing for using the last dryer sheet, Dabi bitching about the neighbors and the noisy sex they’re constantly having in the bedroom that shares a wall with your living room. Sometimes they leave requests for you to buy stuff for them, along with at least some money to pay for it. The only person whose things you buy without asking for payment is Toga.

Everybody else takes things, or asks for them. The only person who leaves things for you is Tenko. As far as you can tell, he shows up exclusively during times when you’re supposed to be home, but for some reason or another you’re always out and about. The first time you know for sure he was here, you came back late and found a flower sticking out of an empty energy drink can on your kitchen counter. The next time it was a piece of your jewelry, with a note: Compress stole this and had Twice leave a copy, but Twice told on him. You need a jewelry box that locks. The third time it was just a note, and just three words, in Tenko’s never-got-past-kindergarten handwriting. I miss you.

You miss him, too. While you’re braced for villains every time you open the door, you’re always hoping he’ll be there.

There’s a villain in your apartment tonight, but it’s not Tenko – it’s Magne, who’s in the bathroom availing herself of your blow-dryer. She’s doing laundry, too, or she’s done it. You catch the unmistakable scent of a dryer sheet that’s gotten sucked into the lint-trap on the air. The smart thing to do would be to leave, but you’re tired, and it’s your apartment to begin with. You set down the items you bought at the League’s request on the kitchen table and sit down in a chair, your chin propped in your hand. You think about scrolling your phone to pass the time, but you don’t need to. Lately all you have to do is stare off into space, and your mind supplies enough uneasy questions to keep you busy for hours.

You come back to awareness when Magne snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Rise and shine, sweetheart. Is this for me?”

She’s holding up the three-pack of deodorant. “Yeah. It’s not the brand you asked for – I didn’t have enough money – but I smelled all the discount ones and picked the one that was closest.”

Magne uncaps one and sniffs it. “Close enough,” she decides. “What about the rest of this? Who wanted thermal socks?”

“Spinner. His note said you all are staying in a warehouse and it gets cold,” you say, and Magne nods. You glance over the rest of the things you bought. Some of them need an explanation. “The numbing gel is for Toga. She bit her cheek and there’s a sore in her mouth. Tell her not to eat anything too acidic until it heals. And these are – she knows what these are for.”

Magne nods sagely. “Oh, and these are for Compress,” you add, tapping a stack of cheap paperbacks. “He said he was bored. These should help.”

“You spoil us,” Magne remarks. She smells like your shampoo. And your body wash. “The boss is as bad as it gets. Who would have guessed that his girlfriend would be such a little saint?”

“I’m not a saint,” you say. She’s not the first member of the League to say that, but your list of sins is long enough already, and it’ll only keep getting longer. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I do wonder what the attraction is,” Magne continues, like you didn’t speak at all. “Guys like him – when they see something pretty and pure, all they want to do is ruin it. And then they don’t want it anymore. I wouldn’t get too dirty if I were you.”

“Thanks for the warning.” You see shadows flickering in your peripheral vision. Kurogiri’s here. “Take this stuff with you, okay? And tell everyone I say hi.”

“No problem.” Magne gathers up the results of the supply run. “Any other messages you want me to send? To the boss, maybe?”

“Nothing I’m telling you,” you say, and she laughs. A moment later she vanishes through the warp gate, and you’re alone. It’s past midnight. There’s really nothing for you to do except go to sleep. Or try to.

You’ve been having a hard time sleeping since Kamino. In some ways, it reminds you of how things were after you stumbled into the ruins of Tenko’s house. The images that won’t leave your head. The questions that chase each other through the darkness – did it hurt, did they know, were they scared, what happened next? There was guilt when it was Tenko’s family dead, the stupid thought that useless, quirkless, five-year-old you should have stopped it somehow – but it’s nothing like the guilt you feel now. Kamino’s death toll stands at nine hundred and eight. Magne said you were a saint, but you aren’t. No saint, no good person, lets nine hundred people, some of them her friends, die.

You’re on hour three of trying to sleep when the shadows in the far corner of your room begin to flicker. It’s another warp gate, and you watch, your heart in your throat, as someone emerges from within it. “Tenko?”

Tenko doesn’t look as surprised to see you awake as you thought he’d be. “I can’t sleep either,” he says. His face is unobscured by the hand. He gestures awkwardly at your side of the bed. “Can I –”

“Yeah,” you say at once, trying not to act like this is the best thing that’s happened to you all week. “For sure.”

Tenko’s wearing gloves already. He kicks off his shoes and strips off his shirt, then climbs into bed on the far side. You’re expecting him to stay there, but instead he reaches across the bed to pull you closer, and once he’s got you, the contented sigh that exits his mouth sets every inch of your face on fire. “That’s better.”

You manage to wiggle your arms free, folding one against your chest and wrapping the other around him. His skin is dry and warm beneath your hand, against your cheek. “Hi, Ten.”

“Hey.” Tenko hugs you closer. “This is your fault. I can’t go back to sleeping standing up after that.”

“That’s because humans aren’t supposed to sleep standing up. I have no idea how you did it for – however long you were doing it.”

“Too long, I guess.” Tenko yawns. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“The people I worked on after Kamino. I keep seeing them.” You keep seeing your friends, too, although there you’re restricted to whatever your imagination can conjure. “Other stuff, too.”

“Like what?”

Like what Tenko’s house looked like the morning after, when you ran into the wreckage. What blood and tissue felt like under your bare feet. You still don’t know if Tenko knows what happened to his family, how much he knows, how he got from his family’s house into the clutches of All For One. “Things,” you say. When you’re able to raise the arm that’s wrapped around Tenko’s shoulders, your fingers encounter the ends of his hair, and you start fiddling with them, to the tune of another contented sigh. “It’s late. Try to sleep. I will, too.”

Tenko relaxes against you, asleep within moments. It takes you another hour at least.

You expect him to be gone by the time you wake up in the morning, but instead he’s still there, shirtless, with a terrible case of bedhead that you think is way too cute. He doesn’t want you to get out of bed at all, but once you do, he trails you to the kitchen, where you start making tea and setting out something for breakfast. “It’s too early,” he complains. “Where do you have to go?”

“I’m taking Mitsuko to keep Yoshimi company during her treatment, and then I’m going to work.” You think through your day and grimace. “And after that I have class.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“It’s my day off.”

“Good,” Tenko says. “Twice is bringing a potential ally. I want you there to meet them.”

Your stomach twists, and your appetite, already fickle on its best day, goes up in smoke. “Who are they?”

“Some small-time yakuza. They want prestige and we need money.” Tenko shrugs. “I’ll come back tonight and we’ll go together in the morning.”

“Okay.” Something about this conversation strikes you as funny, but you’re not sure what it is. It takes a second for it to click, and once it does, you’re laughing.

“What?” Tenko asks suspiciously. “What’s funny?”

“We’re eating breakfast and talking about our schedules,” you say, still giggling. “We sound so normal.”

You think Tenko will laugh, too. He’ll say something snarky, something derisive, about the whole concept of normalcy and moving in with somebody and having any kind of life within the boundaries of a corrupt society. Instead his expression takes on a strange cast. “Do you think we would have been?”

You almost spill the electric teakettle out of shock. “What?”

“If nothing had happened. Do you think we’d have ended up like this?” Tenko gestures around the room, then between the two of you. “Like – us.”

If the two of you had gotten to grow up together, what would you have been? You’ve asked yourself that more than a few times. “If nothing had happened,” you repeat. If Tenko’s family hadn’t died, if he hadn’t wound up with a quirk – or even if he had, and you’d lived across the street from each other in middle school, high school. “I think so.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says after a moment. “I think so, too.”

He doesn’t say how he feels about it, and neither do you, but there’s a distant look in his eyes, like his mind’s gone somewhere else, somewhere far from here. It doesn’t fade until you set a cup of green tea down in front of him. “So,” he says, looking up at you, “how much do you know about the yakuza?”

“Not very much,” you admit. “What do I need to know?”

Tenko gives you a brief overview in between bites of food, then starts in on the details. “The group Twice made contact with is called the Shie Hassaikai. Their leader goes by Overhaul, and he’s young – not our age, a little older. Twice says he seems genuine, but I don’t want us caught off-guard.”

“Which is why you want me there,” you surmise. “If things get heated, turn the temperature down.”

Tenko nods. “It shouldn’t. He’s coming alone.”

“Right.” You force down a bite of your breakfast, then another. “And I should bring the disguise.”

“Yeah.” Black mist begins to ripple through the air near the door, and Tenko swears. “Go away, Kurogiri. I’m not done.”

“It is Dabi’s turn. And according to the schedule, she will be leaving soon.” If Kurogiri could tap his foot right now, he probably would. “With haste, Shigaraki Tomura.”

Tomura swears again, then heads back to your room for his shirt and shoes. “I’ll be back tonight,” he says as he pulls them on.

“Me, too.” You wince as Kurogiri loudly clears his throat, then hurry forward to kiss Tomura goodbye. He’s frustrated. You can tell by the tension in his mouth, the way it takes too long to soften against yours. “Hey. I’ll see you soon, all right?”

Tomura nods once. Then he disappears through the warp gate. As he vanishes, you see him removing his gloves.

You’re alone in your apartment again, and the surge of emptiness you feel threatens to knock you off your feet. You’ll see Tenko tonight, which is good, but tomorrow, you’ll be with Tomura – Tomura and the League of Villains, in disguise like you’re one of them. To the head of the Shie Hassaikai, you’ll be indistinguishable from the others.

And speaking of the Hassaikai – you weren’t lying when you told Tomura you know next to nothing about the yakuza, but you know someone who does. It’s a good thing you’re seeing Mitsuko today.

“The Hassaikai?” Mitsuko repeats, when you ask her while the two of you are waiting for Yoshimi to finish her vitals check. “Where’d you hear about them?”

“A patient.” You aren’t technically lying. Tenko was your patient. At one point. “It wasn’t a name I’d heard before, so I thought I’d ask. In case there was a chance you knew anything.”

Mitsuko’s settled down a bit now, but in middle school and high school, she was in a lot of trouble – skipping school, getting drunk and using who knows what else, hooking up with older guys, sometimes for money or gifts or just to make whatever was going on in her head go away. Some of those guys were yakuza. A lot of them were. And Mitsuko always said they liked to pillow-talk.

She thinks about it for a moment, frowning. “They’re a small group,” she starts. “They’ve got a cross-country network, but there aren’t very many of them. The old head of the family was popular, but the new one isn’t.”

Huh. “Do you know why?”

“The family thing – it’s not a joke to them,” Mitsuko says. “That’s how the former head treated it. Not the new one. One of the guys I used to see – he was from another group, but I remember he’d talked to somebody who’d left the Hassaikai when they were both in jail. That guy said the guys in his gang were just employees now. And they were expendable.”

“So the new guy’s a shitty boss.”

“Try worse. He called him a monster. Said he was empty inside.” Mitsuko looks troubled for a split second. Then she shakes her head. “They all are, though, aren’t they? Yakuza, villains – well, maybe not that Shigaraki guy. He looks like he’s so full of crazy it’s a miracle he doesn’t explode.”

You keep your mouth shut with an effort. What would you say, anyway? Nothing convincing, not without giving away more information than anyone outside the League should know. Mitsuko gives you a curious look. “Did your patient get mixed up with them somehow?”

“I guess so.”

“Hopefully they get out fast. Those guys are bad news.” Mitsuko grimaces. “I’d know.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but then Yoshimi comes out of the check-in room, and the two of you had a talk about not upsetting Yoshimi more than necessary. The two of you turn to her. “I don’t know shit about this,” Mitsuko tells Yoshimi, sounding so much like her usual self that you’d never guess she was wasted and hero-baiting last night, “but you’re with me today. Anybody who gives you shit, they have to answer to me. And I’m not nearly as nice as her.”

She points at you, and you roll your eyes. The only reason you were nice to the one nurse who was even sort of rude to Yoshimi is because you didn’t want her doing something worse when your back was turned. Yoshimi smiles gratefully at Mitsuko. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “We need to catch up. Some of the nurses here are cute.”

You tell them both goodbye and sneak out while they’re talking about the cute nurses. Mitsuko could do a hell of a lot worse than a cute nurse. Maybe she needs that right now. As weird as she gets when she’s in a relationship, almost anything would be an improvement on the self-destruct sequence she’s cycling through. Not that you’re any better. If Kazuo wasn’t too busy pulling together the official incident report on Kamino to take a look at what you’re doing, he’d probably say you were doing the same thing.

You don’t look it. You hold it together at work, checking in on your younger colleagues, supporting the older ones, keeping an eye on the mood with them and the patients both. It’s not a good mood. The rest of the country is ready to venerate All Might and cheer for his victory, but Yokohama was hit too hard. Too many people lost loved one, and too many of those people live in the other Japan with you. Nobody’s gone so far as to sympathize with the League of Villains, yet, but plenty of them are angry with the heroes. And plenty of them are saying it out loud.

The organization that runs your clinic is worried about the staff. Absentee rates are high, and people come to work in bad moods and leave in worse ones. Your supervisor is offering everybody extra time off so long as you take it in shifts, and each and every one of you who was on shift during Kamino is scheduled to meet with a counselor over your lunch hour once a week. You don’t want to do it. You don’t have a lot, or any, good memories of doing therapy as a kid. And this time, there’s something you’re actually guilty of.

But it’s a requirement, and you don’t want to make waves, so you slouch into the mailroom for your counseling session as ordered. Your counselor is rich – you can tell by her clothes and her jewelry – and a whole set of unkind associations spring into your head when you look at her. You try to push them away. If your contempt is oozing from between your teeth, there’s no way you’ll get through this without raising a red flag or ten.

The counselor greets you, introduces herself as Yaoyorozu Shizuka, and something clicks in your head. “Your daughter’s at UA.”

“Yes, my dear Momo! We’re very proud,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu says, even though you didn’t’ congratulate her. “She’s been through quite an ordeal – just like you and your coworkers have been. Why don’t you start by telling me where you were on that night?”

“At first I worked triage with the evacuees,” you say. “When the casualties arrived, I went to assist the doctors and nurse-practitioners.”

“And how long did you do that for?”

“Until someone kicked me out.”

Mrs. Yaoyorozu makes a note in her notebook. Her leather-bound, monogrammed notebook. “How do you feel about the work you and your coworkers did that night?”

If you try to lie, she won’t believe you, and she’ll push the point. You need her not to push. “I feel like we failed.”

“Why do you feel like that?”

“Because that’s what we did,” you say. “Five people died in the exam rooms back there. Two more died in the hospital later. We failed our patients, just like everyone else did.”

“Just like everyone else did,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu repeats. She looks puzzled, or she’s faking puzzlement. You really don’t care which. “What do you mean?”

Of course she’d ask that question. You can’t stop the derisive sound that escapes your mouth. “Let me see. This clinic failed by not being ready to handle a mass casualty event, by not having the necessary equipment to treat major trauma or the staff who know how to do it. The site commander failed by sending those patients to us knowing we couldn’t help them. The heroes on-scene failed by prioritizing helping All Might instead of clearing the route to Yokohama General, so the people they were supposed to be rescuing when they decided it was more important to help All Might could have a chance to survive.”

Mrs. Yaoyorozu is staring at you. Your face is hot and your eyes are prickling, and you sink your nails into the palm of your hand, fighting for control. “We weren’t the only ones to fail those people. We were just the last ones. All those people –”

You cut yourself off. Mrs. Yaoyorozu scrambles to recover. “It was far from an ideal situation,” she says. “It was never going to be possible to save everyone –”

“I thought it was,” you interrupt. “Isn’t that what heroes say they’ll do?”

You need to be careful. You sound like Tomura. But Mrs. Yaoyorozu is shaking her head, smiling indulgently, ready to explain how you just don’t understand that sometimes hard choices have to be made, and you lose patience. “Look, what are you even doing here? Is it just a hobby of yours to come here and minister to the poor unfortunates who weren’t born quirked or pretty or rich? This isn’t your city and we aren’t your people. We don’t need saving. We don’t want your help.”

“Don’t speak for your colleagues,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu says mildly. “You don’t need saving. You don’t want my help. Why not?”

You look blankly at her. “You’ve been through something traumatic,” she continues. “The whole city has, and those of you who responded directly to the tragedy haven’t had time to process what you experienced. That’s what this space is supposed to be for. If it would be best for you to process by expressing your anger towards me, that’s all right.”

“So you’re going to martyr yourself.” You don’t understand where the disdain in your voice is coming from. “Sit here for an hour, then go home and tell your maids and your husband and your butler about how the nurse at the poor-people clinic was so mean to you when all you wanted to do was help.”

She’s staring at you now like you’ve slapped her, when you haven’t raised your voice or sworn or even moved an inch in your chair. You’re using your de-escalation voice, but the context is all wrong, and even as you struggle to rein in your temper, you can’t stop yourself from turning her words back on her. “If that’s what would best help you process your savior complex, that’s fine with me.”

Mrs. Yaoyorozu holds your gaze for another few seconds. Then she ducks her head, writing frantically in her notebook. “Are you crying?” you ask her. The false concern in your own voice makes your skin crawl.

Her eyes are clear when she looks up. “Blaming oneself or others for the traumatic events or for what happened afterwards,” she says. “Check. Persistent state of fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame – check. Persistent negative cognitions, such as “I am bad”, “no one can be trusted” – check. Do you know what I’ve just listed.”

“Criterion D of the PTSD diagnosis.” Kazuo tried this trick on you already, and you were a lot more likely to listen to him. “What’s your point?”

“I can see by the dark circles under your eyes that your sleep’s disturbed,” she says. “Whether that’s by nightmares or by ruminating on what’s occurred, you’ve met Criterion B. By verbally sparring with me you’re avoiding engaging with your own feelings about what happened – Criterion C. Disturbed sleep partially covers Criterion E, and I imagine if I asked you whether you startle easily, find it difficult to concentrate, or feel unsafe in most settings, I’d get at least one yes. But I don’t need a yes to diagnose you – the first symptom under Criterion E is irritable behavior and angry outbursts. What would you call this?”

She gestures at the space between you, and you sink your nails into your palm again. “I’ve spoken to your coworkers about you. They describe you as kind, supportive, calm – the person who smooths over conflicts, not starts them. This conversation is a symptom, a sign of what you’ve been through. It’s not who you are.”

But it is. It is who you are now – a person who takes a skill you’ve used to help people and twists it into a weapon, a person who backs someone else into a corner and goes for their throat, and the worst part is, you can’t pin this on your association with the League of Villains. Tomura’s not standing here feeding you lines. This was all you. What’s happening to you?

Trauma, Mrs. Yaoyorozu would say, if you asked what she thought. You know the real answer: Guilt.

It’s quiet for a little while. When you speak up again, your voice doesn’t sound like your own. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu says. You spend the rest of your lunch hour in silence, staring at the wall.

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (8): That Girl Is Going, Going, Gone

a/n: ok a bit of a different chapter! this is more cass than john & cass until we get to the main event. i PROMISE the next chapter will pick up right where this one left off (don't be mad, be excited!). lots of warnings for this chapter and hopefully you guys don't change your love for her after reading about berlin. please let me know your thoughts & send in any interlude (aka novels) requests. always open. love ya xoxo

warnings: murder, blood, death of minor character, smut

Cass looked at Will with horror as he opened a black briefcase and set it on the ground of the alley way. It looked a lot like a gun. 

“Will, no one said anything about an assassination.” She had shot a gun before. Had been shot by a gun before. But she had never pointed one at another human being and pulled the trigger. 

“Cass, you’ve got this. You stay steady and you’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes. Of course he would think it was so simple. He wasn’t the one expected to pull the trigger. To take a life.

“Walk me through the plan again.” 

“Dressler comes through this main drag on the way to his country estate. We track him to the edge of the woods where your asset has placed an obstacle for the car and when he gets out, you take the shot.” Cass knew it wasn’t going to go according to plan because things like this never did. Because Dressler had been on OSS’ target list for almost a year and they were the third pairing of agents to try and accomplish this task. “You scored better than me on the range. Don’t think for a second you aren’t the right choice for this.”

“And we avoid the fatal flaws from previous iterations. Don’t approach the vehicle. Maintain surveillance detection tradecraft. Make the exfil window.” 

“That’s kind of a big one, isn’t it?” he smiled. She was too busy testing the weight of the weapon in her hand to notice. “I meant it when I said I’d get you back home to him.”

“You got someone to get home to?” Will shrugged. 

“Thought I did. Then I got a letter last week…it’s for the best. Loving someone in this line of work isn’t for everyone.” Cass gently palmed his cheek.

“Then we’ll get you home to find someone who will make it work.” Find someone who would love those doubts right out his head the way John had for her. Find someone who’s passion for their work matched in kind. Find someone who would help him clean the blood off his hands when the war was over. 

----

It was Sunday and the roads were filled with people going to and from church. Cass was in a white dress, Will in a suit, as they each smoked a cigarette while they waited for mass to let out.

“When did you start smoking?” 

“I didn’t. Still don’t really drink either.” She dropped the cigarette onto the sidewalk and pressed it beneath her foot. “They take away your control over yourself. I don’t like the way they make me feel.” But she thinks she was learning to like the smell of smoke on the collar of John’s jacket. The bitter whiskey on his lips when he kissed her. The way his face flushed and his curls pressed to his forehead and his hands wandered after a night of them both. The doors opened and people began to exit the church.

“I’ll go get the car,” Will said, slipping into German with ease. Cass nodded and removed a compact from her purse. She pressed the powder to her nose as she caught sight of Dressler over her right shoulder. She counted two men who looked like SS hovering around him for protection. They escorted him to a waiting Mercedes, Will pulling up to her a few minutes after their departure. “Let’s go kill some Nazis.”

They took the occasional turn to ensure no one was following them, maintaining a safe distance from the target who was following the route from church to his compound outside of Berlin just the way they had mapped it. 

“Final weapons check.” Cass pulled the chamber to ensure a bullet was loaded before releasing it back into place. “Will…if something goes wrong, we abort and get to the airfield. We don’t need to force this.” 

“Copy, Lieutenant,” he smirked. “But it would be nice to be the one to knock Dressler off the list.”

“I agree but-” Her hands flew to brace against the dashboard as he slammed on the brakes. An overturned horse cart was blocking the Mercedes path and the car sat still as the occupants determined what to do.

“Come on,” Cass whispered, “Get out of the goddamn car.” The door opened and one of the SS officers got out and walked towards the cart. 

“Close protection remains,” Will muttered. When the second SS officer exited, Cass began to get nervous. He walked towards her side of the car and she rolled the window down with a smile.

“Good morning, sir. Is there a problem with the road ahead?” The pistol was hidden in the fold of her skirt, her thigh acutely aware of the metal. 

“Yes. We’ll need you to turn around so we can go back the way we came.” She knew there was no other way to get to the compound. Knew they were really just clearing them from the area. She opened her mouth but the words were silenced as Will whistled. The third door was opening. 

Will pushed the car into reverse and rolled over the foot of the man by her door. He dropped quickly with a yell. It took one second for her to lean her body out the window. One second for Dressler to look in her direction. One second for her to shut down her humanity, inhale, exhale and pull. Between his eyes and he was gone. A man who only answered to Himmler. It was automatic for her to move the gun to the man on the ground. He had seen their faces. Looked her in the eyes and stared at her legs. A loose end and he was gone, too. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed as Will took them backwards down the road as quickly as he could. The second SS officer in the car and chasing after them as quickly as he could. “What did I just do?” 

“What you had to, Cass!” They both ducked as the first bullet hit the front of the car. “Hang on.” The car pulled sharply to the left as they raced through a field, another bullet pinging off the exterior of the car. 

“Two minutes until takeoff.” Her watch seemed to be ticking faster than usual. As if the universe was trying to close the gap between here and home. The Mercedes gained ground and nudged the back of their car, spinning them in a circle Will couldn’t regain control of. 

“Run!” They could see the clearing in the not too far off distance. Her knees hit the ground before she pushed herself up with urgency and took off at a sprint. She heard the consistent popping of a gun behind her but she kept running. 

Cass collapsed on the open hatch of the low profile plane and let herself slide down as it closed, Will stumbling in right behind her. 

“Do you think we did it?” she asked after they had settled for a moment. “Will?” She turned her head and noticed he looked a little pale. His breathing was labored. He turned and looked at her and he was afraid. She repeated his name again before she noticed his hand pressed to his side and the red blooming out from underneath it. 

“You guys good back there? Going to be bumpy if you can hold onto something.”

“Where’s your medical supplies? My partner’s been shot!” Cass pressed her hands with all her strength to the wound. She grunted as they took a tight turn and they slid to the wall of the plane. 

“Orange bag!” She grabbed it, the zipper slipping through her bloody fingers. Cass grabbed as much gauze as she could and the scissors, cutting Will’s shirt to get a better sense of what she was dealing with. 

“I’ve got to look and see if there’s an exit wound.” She rolled him slightly as he yelled in pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said but there was a hint of relief to her tone as she found a matching wound in his back. She took a deep breath as she cleared the blood in search of the bullet���s entrance. Once she found it, she held the gauze to it and tried not to wince as his breathing sounded like it was growing ragged.

“Cass…” The gauze in her hands turned red, a pool of blood seeping out from underneath him. The wound wasn’t clotting and the rudimentary kit had no platelets to help. 

“You’ve got to hang on. Save your strength. We’ll be back before you know it.” An hour and she was out of gauze, cutting fabric from her skirt in its place. Wil was sweating. Paler. Taking a long time to inhale after he exhaled. “Do you remember back in school when I almost quit? You stopped me on my way to the Colonel’s office and told me the OSS needed me, that Europe needed a free spirit to bring back their freedom. Now, I need you to do exactly what you told me. Pull up your boot straps, keep your head in the game and fight through it.” His hand weakly rested on top of hers.

“You…did…”

“I’m right here. We can talk about it all when we get back.” A tear rolled down his cheek and a matching one rolled down hers. “Don’t do this, Will. Please.” His hand dropped to his side and there was no longer light behind his eyes. 

“Lieutenant, we’ve got wheels down in 30!” 

“Tell the control tower that Captain Foster is…” Her hands were on his chest as she tried compressions. Her tears were coming quicker now. She watched them drop on his face and he didn’t react. All she could hear was her own heartbeat and the silence of Will’s as she pressed and pressed and pressed and nothing happened. She didn’t notice the plane landing. The pilot calling her name. She kept pressing and pressing and pressing. 

“Cassandra.” Harding’s use of her full name pierced through the fog. It was soft and familiar and safe. “Cassandra, you have to let him go. Let the doctors look at him.” She couldn’t even imagine how she looked. His blood all over her arms and clothes. Her dress ripped from when she was trying to make bandages. Tears dried to her face and snot dripping from her nose.

“Where’s John?” she asked. That was who she wanted to see. The only person who could offer her comfort in this moment.

“He’s probably halfway to Norway by now taking a second strike at those submarine pens for you.” She choked out a laugh. No doubt John would be willing to do an extreme act of commitment such as this. “Come with me to get some water? Maybe some food?” 

“That sounds good.” He offered her his arm and she gripped it like without him she would collapse, letting him escort her out of the plane. There was a group of people waiting and watching. The mechanics to make sure Cass was alive and well. The medical team. Extraneous personal who just wanted a glimpse of the covert American intelligence officers.

Harding led her to the mess hall, the orderlies freezing at the sight of her before scurrying to set the table. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat and avoided his gaze when he took the chair across from her. 

“Were you successful?” 

“Yes, sir,” she croaked out as the food and drink was placed in front of her. Harding waved off the second plate they brought. “I apologize I wasn’t here to give the briefing this morning. I should have been available for their questions.” 

“You can’t be in two places at once, Lieutenant. You were where you were needed most.” She nibbled on a bite of eggs and chased it with a few gulps of water. “They’re going to want you to talk to a shrink.”

“I’ve talked to them before. Know how to play the game.” He reached for her hand across the table and she offered it, wanting the reminder she was here and she was okay. He looked like he was inspecting the blood dried into her knuckles and caked under her nails. “He was a friend. An old friend.” The loss would sting for awhile. 

“The world is a better place for the task you two accomplished.” Cass took a shaky breath and blinked back tears.

“Then why do I feel so awful?” Harding knew the general feeling of taking a life. He had dropped bombs and shot guns and watched the havoc with a smile. But he had never looked another human in the eye and watched the life leave it. “Why do I feel like I did something wrong?”

“War is not natural. The role we play in it won’t be either.” She nodded with understanding. “You feeling up to interrogation?” They would want a look at her before she was able to change and clean the blood from her skin.

“I don’t have a choice.” She hoped it would be the first and the last time she had to relive the traumatic moments this day had brought. “Thank you, Colonel.” He indulged himself for a moment. Held her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Looked into the eyes that he had found himself learning to love. 

“You should get going,” he whispered. Before I say something I might regret.

----

“How you doing, Bubbles?” The medical wing was the first stop John had made after landing. He hadn’t been able to find Mary to ask for an update on Cass and Colonel Harding had disappeared almost as soon as the last B-17 touched down. 

“Never better, sir.” His eyes were flickering to the door at the end of the wing. A private exam room. Crosby was also oddly quiet. They had seen Lieutenant Cooper be escorted back there almost an hour ago and she hadn’t emerged. They hoped nothing was wrong because they didn’t want to be in the radius of John Egan when he found out.

“That’s good. I was actually looking for you, Crosby.” John paused as both men continued to shift in their seats. “They not keep you comfortable?”

“No, sir, I mean yes, sir, I’m fine it’s just-” Bubbles stopped as the entrance opened and he recognized the secretary from Lieutenant Cooper’s office. She looked vaguely horrified to see John Egan.

“Mary! I stopped by but you weren’t there. Any word from Spook?” Bubbles, Crosby and Mary all looked at each other. “Clearly, I’m on the outside of whatever this is.” John’s finger twitched as his side. He wasn’t liking the feeling in his chest.

“Colonel Harding didn’t talk to you, sir?” He liked that even less.

“No. Mary, whatever is going on, I need to know right now.” Her gaze dropped to her feet.

“I can’t, sir. It’s need to know at this moment in time.” His chest heaved at her words. 

“You can’t?” He spun back towards the airmen. “Then why do you two look like you know something?” Why wasn’t anyone telling him anything? What happened that they were keeping from him. 

“Sir, we don’t really,” Crosby started. 

“Someone just please fucking tell me if I need to start grieving.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Major.” She is trying so hard to smile because John is who she has been wanting all day. But he turns to look at her and he looks so relieved and she hasn’t felt safe enough to show emotion since she left his arms a few days ago. 

“Cass…is that…blood?” He walks towards her slowly. They had let her wash the blood from her arms and face but there was still some dried into her hairline and soaked into her dress. She nods as a sob rips from her throat. “Oh, Cass, baby.” She collapses into his chest as soon as he is near enough. 

“Will’s dead,” she sobs into his neck, “I tried so hard. I wasn’t good enough.” His arms were iron around her, the only thing keeping her standing. 

“I know you did everything you could.” He kissed the side of her head and stroked his hand down her hair. “I’m sorry you lost a friend today, my love.” The word felt like a slap across her face. She was so undeserving of his love after what she had done. She had taken the life of another, twice over. She could scrub at her skin but the blood would never wash away.

“Will you take me back to my room?” He slid an arm under her knees and lifted her so she was in his arms, her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. “Don’t let them take me away from you. Please.” 

He noticed the stares and whispers that followed as they made their way to her billet. He didn’t put her down until they were safely behind her closed door.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he noted as she sat on her bed and looked through her wardrobe for her shower kit. 

“How was Norway?” she asked quietly. 

“Successful. Had to leave Biddick in Scotland but he’ll be fine.” He found the basket of her toiletries and a towel. 

“Good. I’m glad you guys were able to use the information.” She smiled. “I’m sure Curt will find his way around quite well.”

“I can stand outside the door. Make sure no one bothers you.” John was offering her a few moments to shed her armor and embrace the emotions that were still heavy in her chest. 

“Outside the door will be too far.” Cass stood and pressed her forehead against his lips, asking for the strength of his touch during this weak moment. 

“I don’t want to be intrusive.” 

“I’m asking you to take a shower with me. That’s all.” They had seen each other naked. Shared a bed. Expressed the very real feelings between them. What was one more facet of domesticity gracing their lives? 

Cass undressed and stepped under the water and watched it run red down the drain until John’s chest pressed against her back. He wrapped one arm around the front of her chest and the other around her hips. She rested her own hands on top of his. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her head turned so she could look at him. 

“They sent me there to kill someone,” she whispered. John stiffens for an instant before he recovers. “I killed him and his bodyguard because he saw my face.” She hates that in the moment she had been thinking about the fact that they would remove her from the field if they thought her identity had been compromised. That she wouldn’t be able to do the job the way it was meant to be done anymore.

“It’s okay you don’t feel good about it.” Cass smiled. He was the only one so far to not try and convince her that she had done the right thing. That she had made the world a better place and shouldn’t let the specifics bother her. This was why she had sought him out in the first place. This was why she loved him.

“They’re grounding me. Desk duty until further notice.” He reached for the shampoo and lathered it between his hands. She titled her head back into his waiting hands and let his fingers work through the roots of her hair, the last of the red going down the drain, her eyes closing as he soothed the ache away. 

“Bet you’re as happy about that as I was being Air Exec.” 

“Touche.” Next was a bar of soap, Cass turning around and John dragging it across her skin and focusing on the few spots of dried blood she hadn’t been able to scrub off in her haste earlier. He seemed to get lost in a trance, circling her breasts a few extra times and moving it slowly down her torso before letting it slip into the wispy curls between her legs. “So much for just a shower,” she whispered as her legs spread a little further. 

“I’ll stop, Cass.” He moved his hand and she grabbed his wrist and moved it right back.

“Make me forget, John.” The soap was discarded out the shower stall, his fingers dipping between her folds and relishing in her warmth. Her forehead dropped to his chest as she shuddered. 

“Remember what you said to me before you left?” His fingertip circled her clit and she nodded. “Said I could show you how much I love you when I get back.”

“I did say that,” she gasped as he slipped a finger into her and the heel of his hand rubbed her bundle of nerves with every thrust. “Oh, I like that a lot.” 

“I want to show you, Cass, show you properly.” She brought him in for a kiss as she felt herself getting closer and closer. “Take my time and love you the way you deserve.” 

“I want that too, John, please.” Her hips rocked at the same gentle rhythm of his hand as she chased the feeling stirring low in her belly. 

“I missed this sight, baby.” He had her like this once before, had only been separated from her a few days, but it had been too long. “Love having you like this.” 

“John, I-” The words caught in her mouth as he hit that sweet spot with a curl of his fingers and stars danced across her vision. He held her as her knees buckled, his fingers not stopping, as she kissed him to try and keep quiet if only slightly. “Take me to bed. Take me to bed and make love to me, John Egan.” 

He would be happy to oblige.

[vivalas-vega]

new perspectives // part ten // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

howdy !! I think this is the shortest chapter in this series yet, but kind of a heavy one nonetheless. I'm getting back into the swing of writing and am hoping to bring this series to it's close within the next 3-5 parts! as always, please let me know what you think!

new perspectives // part ten // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 2.5k

warnings: we are diving into jupiter's deployment so mentions of warzones and guns but nothing too graphic or in depth

The Hard Deck was thrumming just as it always was on a Friday night but lately Jake had lost the desire for after-work hangouts at the bar… darts and pool didn’t feel the same anymore, and he was having a hard time enjoying anything because he knew wherever you were you weren’t having fun. He tried to tell himself that maybe in the quiet moments, when the sky wasn’t falling and people weren’t relying on you to save their life, you and your team were able to unwind. Maybe kick around a soccer ball or play card games to pass the time and provide some sense of normalcy but he knew even if that was the case it didn’t change anything. You were in a warzone, and he was here at the bar. 

But, that didn’t stop him from trying. Your deployment was hard on everyone, not just him, and he knew that if he pulled away it would only make your friends feel it more deeply, he was the only tether to you and he also knew he needed to be here. If he wasn’t he’d be at home staring off into space and making himself sick with worry. It was better for him to be preoccupied, which was why he had taken on more responsibility at Top Gun, and why he was currently engaged in a game of darts with Coyote, trying to distract himself from the fact that he hadn’t heard from you in a month.

You two had discussed this going into it, and he knew communication would be infrequent. You had real life or death problems on your hands day in and day out, in a foreign country in the middle of an active warzone. Just because you didn’t call, or didn’t answer any of his, didn’t mean that something had happened to you, or that you didn’t want to. It just meant you were doing your job, and trying to stay safe in the process… but knowing that didn’t make it any easier of a pill to swallow. 

He also knew there was an order, and it wasn’t his turn. You two were no strangers to infrequent communication and you were adamant that your marriage could handle it. His turn had been first, and then your parents, and the next time you had the opportunity to call home it would be Rooster’s. He wasn’t angry about that, not at all… Rooster had quickly become your closest friend and confidant outside of him and he knew that you missed him just as much as everyone else, that in your darkest moments he would be one of the people you needed to see. He was grateful for it, to know that you had multiple people in your life you loved so deeply, trusted so implicitly… but that didn’t make it fun to know that the next time someone heard from you it would be the goofy guy across the bar laughing loudly with his arm slung around his new girlfriend’s waist and not him, that the next time he got an update on you it would come from him. 

He was endlessly proud of you, for how strong you had been and how devoted you were to your life’s calling. Putting yourself into such imminent danger to help others was just about the most you think he could think of, and he knew you could handle yourself. When you left you were off to a very condensed boot camp where you learned basic survival skills outside of medicine, you received a crash course in all the things you would need to know, and received training if god forbid you ever found yourself in the position of needing to defend yourself. He knew you were well equipped to take care of yourself, but he also knew that you likely had seen things and done things that would leave a lasting mark… but that was all he knew.

That was the hardest part for him… not knowing what you were going through. Even in your spottiest bouts of communication over the course of school and deployments he always knew what was going on with you, and his worst case scenarios he’d concoct when he worried were you stressing yourself into exhaustion. Now, his worst case scenarios were something he couldn’t even dare to verbalize, something if he thought about even a second too long would send him careening towards a ledge. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he heard from beside him suddenly, jumping slightly as he turned to see Coyote and he gave him a soft smile. 

“I know,” he replied and Coyote just nodded.

“She’s tough. Like, scary tough, my shoulder still makes a weird creaking sound from when she tackled me during dogfight football,” he said and this made Jake laugh, something that was pretty infrequent now.

“I still can’t believe she took you down like that,” he replied.

“Yeah, that one fights dirty, man… so I’m sure she’s holding her own just fine.” This provided Jake just enough reassurance in the moment that he was able to shift his focus somewhere else entirely, so much so that he didn’t notice the way Rooster pulled out his phone and quickly ran out of the bar.

“J?” he asked, the video on his phone taking its sweet time connecting and he heard his second-favorite laugh on the other end.

“Hey Roo, sorry, the video is super spotty here,” you said just as it fully connected and he finally got to see you for the first time since your wedding night. His first thought was that you looked different, almost unrecognizable if it weren’t for those few characteristics that were so completely you. You were thinner, primarily in your face and he couldn’t ignore the way your eyes lacked their usual warmth, it sent an ache through his chest to see you look so… hollow. 

“How are you? Are you okay? What’s going on over there?” he fired off in rapid succession and this pulled another soft laugh from your lips. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to see that stupid porn stache until it was staring back at you through the screen of a tablet. 

“Don’t worry about me, I don’t have long so tell me everything… what have I missed?” you asked and briefly he wanted to press, try to get you to open up about what you were going through over there but he realized that probably wasn’t what you needed right now. You needed a distraction, reminders of home, and you didn’t have much time to get it.

“Well, Eliza and I made things official a few days ago,” he said and you smiled, a real one that almost fully reached your eyes.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, Roo. Where did you take her for your first date?”

“Well, our unofficial first date was your wedding, but the real first date was mini golf… where she completely smoked me by the way,” he said and you chuckled. “She’s… incredible, JJ, I’ve never met a woman like her before.”

“Well I’ll be damned, Bradley Bradshaw is serious about someone? I leave for two months and suddenly the world turns upside down.”

“Shut up, I’ll have you know I’ve been serious about people before,” he protested before adding, “but not like this. I think this is it, J.”

“You keep that to yourself for a while longer, don’t spook her too soon,” you teased. “How is he?” you asked suddenly, getting serious and he knew what you meant without further clarification.

“He’s… good,” he replied and you furrowed your brows. “He’s just worried, is all. Just wants to know if you’re okay, we all do.” 

You nodded, “I don’t know if I am, Roo… and you can’t tell that to him, okay? I just… I don’t want him worrying anymore than he already is.”

“I won’t, but… talk to me? What’s going on over there?”

You sighed, “I don’t have enough hands, or supplies, or time… I’m picking and choosing who lives and who dies based on a twenty second evaluation and I just… never know if I’m making the right choices, never know if I’m actually making a damn difference out here.”

“Hey, you are. If I know you like I think I do, I know you are.”

You nodded but it didn’t really do anything to make you feel better. “I know this is our turn, but-”

“I texted him a few minutes ago, he should be out any second,” Rooster cut you off and you just smiled softly. 

“Thank you. I miss you way more than I thought I would, Roo,” you said and he let out a shocked laugh.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked but he was interrupted by the door to the patio opening.

“Come outside in two minutes, alone? What kind of cryptic bullshit is that, Chicken?” you heard distantly and couldn’t help but laugh, warmth filling your chest at hearing your husband's voice after so long. “Is that- give me that,” he said, snatching the phone from Rooster’s hand and confirming for himself it was really you.

“Hey you,” you said and you thought his face might split open from how wide he was grinning. “Might want to not be so hard on Rooster, seeing as he gave up some of his phone time for you.” 

“God, I miss you, are you okay?” 

You nodded, forcing yourself to smile and Jake saw right through it, saw the way it didn’t fully reach your eyes. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll give you guys space,” Rooster said from beside Jake, “I love you, JJ, stay safe, okay?”

“Love you too, Roo,” you replied and suddenly there was a commotion from outside your tent that made him stop in his tracks as Jake’s eyes widened in concern.

“Jupiter, what’s going on?” he asked, trying to pinpoint the sounds he was hearing. The visual was blocked by you pressing the tablet against your chest as you poked your head outside the tent and the sound became clear as day on their end. Gunfire. 

“I have to go.”

“Jupiter, talk to me,” Jake tried but you’d barely heard it, barely registered.

“I can’t- I’m sorry, I love you,” was all you said before the call disconnected and Jake stood there frozen, staring at a black screen as he tried to process what had just happened. 

“Was that…?” Rooster started, not entirely sure of what to say. He knew whatever he was feeling was magnified in Jake tenfold, but that didn’t make it any easier to push through to try and be there for him. 

“I think so,” Jake said after clearing his throat. Logically he knew you’d face situations like this, it was the biggest thing he was struggling to come to terms with, but actually hearing it was a completely different beast. Right now he was standing here with your best friend on the patio overlooking the ocean at sunset… it was peaceful, yet somewhere halfway across the world you were under fire, undoubtedly under stress as you were probably assessing wounded soldiers and civilians, trying to do your job the best you could. 

Rooster noticed the slight tremble in Jake’s hands, noticed the way he was currently retreating into himself and trying to not spin out and he gently pulled the phone away and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, come on, let’s go sit for a minute,” he said, and Jake followed him almost mindlessly out onto the beach where they both sat down. “I know this might not sound helpful, but she’s been out there two months already, I’m sure this isn’t the first time… she knows how to handle herself.”

Jake let out a humorless laugh, “you’re right, it’s not.” He knew what Rooster’s intentions were behind the sentiment, you’d gone through this before and made it out the other side, and you’d do it again now, but all it served as was a reminder that this was your life right now. He was focused on the fact that you didn’t sound worried at all, you’d said you had to go and that you loved him as simply as you used to when you’d call him in between patients. He was sitting here, mind spinning with the possibilities of what could be happening and you’d sounded as calm as ever. That should have proved reassuring, in some small way, you weren’t fazed… you weren’t scared, but it wasn’t. If anything, it made his chest ache more. 

“She’s gonna be okay, man. It’s Jupiter, she can handle anything,” Rooster said, even though he might not have fully meant it. He saw you, heard the unsure tone as you spoke to him and saw those hollow eyes, you were different. You weren’t the Jupiter you left as, weren’t the Jupiter they knew like the back of their hands… and Rooster knew it would happen, had told you as much sitting right here in this same spot just a few months ago. 

“I don’t know… I should have told her no, told her not to do it, anything to get her to stay put,” Jake sighed and Rooster chuckled.

“We are talking about Jupiter right?” he asked and Jake couldn’t help but laugh too. “She knew what she was signing up for. We talked about it, you know... what she'd see, what she'd do, briefly, but she knew. She never bites off more than she can chew.”

“Yeah, I think this time is different,” Jake said and Rooster nodded.

“Maybe… but she’s got you, and she’s got the rest of us. We’ve all got her, no matter how she is when she comes home.”

“If she comes home,” Jake nearly whispered and this took Rooster aback. It felt like a weight off his back to finally say his biggest fear out loud, but only seconds later that weight came crashing down as he fully realized it was a genuine possibility. It wasn’t some hypothetical worst case scenario he’d concocted, hearing that gunfire proved that, it was simply how things were. If you came home. 

“You can’t think like that right now. Her tour is over in just a few weeks, she’ll pull through.” 

Jake sighed again, “I just need to know that she’s safe.”

“She’ll call when she can. That much I know for certain, I’m sure she didn’t want to leave things like that. She’ll call, or she’ll email just as soon as she’s able.” 

“I think I get it now,” Jake said and Rooster gave him a confused look, “why she likes you so much,” he practically mumbled and Rooster laughed. 

“Come on, man. There’s nothing either of us can do except wait, and she wouldn’t want you spinning out over this. Let’s go back inside,” he said as he stood and dusted the sand from his pants, and Jake followed reluctantly. He was right after all, he couldn’t do anything right now except go back inside, nurse his beer and hope you were okay.

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[election2024-2028]

Project 2025: Basics

What is Project 2025? Who wrote it? And who is it intended to help? And who is this going to hurt?

Let's get into it. First, what is Project 2025, and who wrote it? Project 2025, also known as the Presidential Transition Project is a project started by the Heritage Foundation for the transition from Biden to Trump. Of course, that is their assuming that former (and failed) president Trump is going to become president again. I believe most people hope that no such thing will happen. If all goes well, we will have President Kamala Harris come January of 2025. The Heritage Foundation and about 200 other people grouped together to create a book called Mandate for Leadership: A Conservative Promise. Kind of sounds like a weird dystopian novel, doesn't it? But, no, it's worse than a dystopia. This is a real book written by the ultra-conservative group called the Heritage Foundation and a large number of other far-right people, including lawyers for firms that boast about arguing against equity and inclusion laws, economists who believe in getting rich instead of protecting the environment, people with no organization to speak of, well-known conspiracy theorists, and politicians. The Heritage Foundation calls this collection of people "experts", but you can tell from their organizations that they are mainly a group of extremely biased conservatives.

This book is intended as a starting point for Donald Trump if he gets back into the White House. It is "by conservatives, for conservatives." This basically means that this is meant for extremist conservatives or Trump cultists, conservatives who believe:

Gay marriage should be illegal.

Abortion should be completely banned.

We need nuclear families only.

Queer history shouldn't be taught.

Children aren't allowed to be trans.

Interracial marriage should be banned.

Liberals aren't real Americans.

Immigrants shouldn't be allowed into the country without having to jump through extreme hurtles.

Illegal immigrants should be in internment camps*.

Conservatives are the only real Americans.

Trump is the best person to have as president.

Joe Biden is evil and has completely mismanaged the country.

Equity is wrong.

Inclusion is wrong.

DEI is a bad thing.

Gay marriage is sinful.

Racial inequity and racism shouldn't be talked about in school.

Books about queer people should be banned.

Feminism is a bad thing.

The men should be in control of the heterosexual home (which should be the only kind of home).

Families without fathers are severely damaging to the children, no matter the other circumstances.

Guns should be completely legal, no matter the kind of gun or any other details.

Trans people are inherently inappropriate.

Children shouldn't be exposed to LGBTQ people.

Drag is inherently sexual.

Trans women are dangerous.

Gender and sex are the same thing.

Gender and sex are binary.

People can't change their gender.

In other words, this is for homophobic, transphobic, racist, "Christian" misogynistic gunnies who are on the far right.

And who does this hurt? This hurts many people, of all different politics and beliefs. Chances are, it hurts you or someone you care about. This project affects this (non-exhaustive) list of people:

LGBTQ people

Women

Trans men

Trans people in general

People in communities with high risk of violence

BIPOC people

Single parents

Interracial couples

Liberals

People who do drag

Accepting parents of trans children

Fatherless families

Immigrants

Feminists

Who or what else might be harmed by this project?

The environment

Relationships with other countries

Freedom of speech

Schools

Diversity and equity

Remember: This isn't an exhaustive list. This is only part of the people who could be hurt by this project.

I know it is possible that someone may point out to me that Trump has denied being involved with Project 2025. Therefore, I believe it is necessary that I point out that Agenda 47, which Trump is for sure involved with is very close to, if not the same as Project 2025, just with a different name.

*Internment camp basically means a concentration camp. That's what they want. Concentration camps for "illegal" immigrants. This is like what happened to Japanese Americans during World War II. *

Conclusion

Be aware of who you're voting for this election. This blog will contain more details about the 2024 election. Chances are you know at least a few people who are close to you who would be affected by Project 2025 policies if Donald Trump becomes president, and I hope you care enough about them to want to protect them from gun violence, forced pregnancy, forced submission, prison sentences, censorship, and a dead Earth.

I know it's hard to believe that your vote could mean anything when it seems like Trump is going to win. Maybe you think that your vote doesn't count, but I assure you that the only way that you will protect your and your loved ones' rights is to vote. Please vote.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Early Saturday, I read about how Donald Trump’s supporters are already preparing to contest the outcome of the 2024 election if their candidate does not win.

A few hours later came the news bulletin of a shooting in which Trump was injured.

After watching CNN for a while, I flipped to Fox News. The difference in the coverage was striking. CNN was strictly factual — which of course meant repeating vague generalities while waiting for more facts to emerge.

Not Fox. Nor the majority of the media, now dominated by the right wing.

Quickly, Fox had a former police officer on, calling for “transparency” in any investigation, and warning Attorney General Merrick Garland, with no basis at all, not to pull any hanky-panky.

It was also full of various commentators stating, one after another, that people need to tone down the rhetoric, and that America has no place for political violence.

I was flabbergasted. The only mass political violence in America had been January 6, stoked by Trump, other Republicans, and Fox News. Most of the aggressive rhetoric in this country has come from the same crowd.

At a time when circumspection and restraint are needed the most, the choric chant that the problem rests with others — meaning the Democrats — was as galling as it was predictable.

Underlining this instant politicization were a man and a woman at the Trump rally in Butler, PA, flipping their middle fingers at CNN’s camera within seconds of the shooting.

The current frenzy is all based, it should be underlined, on the act of a single individual — a registered Republican. Somehow, this is now to be used to tar and intimidate all Americans who legitimately and thoughtfully question Trump and his motives.

And, just as predictably, one Fox talking head said that this is what happens in a country with “godlessness” — without anyone mentioning that this could not happen in a country with “gunlessness,” since Trump and his allies are thrilled that practically anyone can obtain a murder weapon and unlimited ammunition. (Some perspective on hate, violence, and guns: From 1990 to the present, according to official statistics, far-right extremists have killed more than 520 people — while far-left extremists have killed 78 people. For more data, go here, here, here.)

And, while decrying division in the country and calling for toning things down, the Fox folks continuously referred to Trump as “President Trump” or “the President,” as in “the President is fine,” yet I heard a “newsperson” referring to the actual president simply as “Biden.”

In other words, at Fox they are working to create more division and animosity, still stoking the stolen-election lie, and setting the stage for more discord and potential violence.

I doubt we will hear much candor on the irony of all this. We will see plenty of “The Photo”: the blood-streaked face of the brave, wounded, defiant victim-hero. Fox and its Republican allies will successfully milk this for all it is worth, their base will in their own minds decide that the Democrats are somehow to blame, and the major media and Democrats will have no idea how to combat this nonsense.

All this will almost certainly redound to Trump’s advantage at a time when everything is already cutting his way.

That’s where we are with less than four months until the presidential election. To tweak a Trumpian favorite: GOD HELP AMERICA.

[yooo-gehn]

I can't stop thinking about how religion looks at all this misery in the world, all this poverty, all this loneliness, all this suffering, and it gives it a divine approval, it doesn't encourage it, but it acknowledges it as the natural order, religion teaches the religious that this world is only meant to be as bad as it is, or slightly better, for the final actual reward is never in this life.

It's ok if you suffered your whole life, for to be alive is to suffer, but as long as you're a devout believer, you get to make every dream you ever had come true in the afterlife, so don't worry, humans are meant to suffer so much, in fact the more they suffer now the more they're rewarded later, and I find this idea extremely dangerous, it legitimizes every corrupt social/political/economical system that runs this world, it doesn't tell people to be corrupt, but it very firmly tells them this world is meant to be this corrupt.

It encourages people to keep planting seeds even if it's the apocalypse, but hey, it says absolutely nothing about how the farmer can lead a significantly better life, and if the book of your ultimate truth tells you to limit your expectations, it seeps through your subconscious, it makes your agony seem noble. And somehow what you use to make suffering bearable, is the very same thing that indirectly eternalizes your suffering.

For it won't matter how far humans have evolved, it doesn't matter how much human beings already have the actual means and resources to make this world a much, much, better place for everyone, If we stopped making movies and shows for one year, or if countries stopped investing in guns and ammo for one year, they can WIPE OUT world's starvation, but people still lack the will to do it and a better worldview to back it.

I'm not talking about heaven on earth, only a better earth, and people will never be angels, but they can be reprogrammed, they can be raised differently, they can be ruled and managed differently, it's possible in theory, but oh, why the fuck bother if GOD ALMIGHTY is saying that will never happen, and it doesn't even matter if there are countries in this lifetime that fundmentally revolutionized life's quality for everyone in them, they're rich first world countries, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, to name a few, but no wonder all of them don't hold religion in such high regard.

I get that religion is not the only reason here, I get that life is complex, I get that people can be selfish and greedy, I get that even the countries I named have a brutal immoral history, oh, how much people will desperately try to find any loophole in my argument to invalidate it, but I do not care about any of that, I'm only saying that the philosophy behind religion is making people more accepting of how fucked the world is and how horrible they are to each others, when it's claiming the exact opposite. AND it's making them totally blind to it.

[arthur-kilgore]

Today’s Incoherent Red Dead Ramble is brought to you by the fact that the one and only time arthur openly named his illness and acknowledged his impending mortality in front of the gang was when milton was literally holding a gun to his head

And it took the whole gang falling apart, his brother presumed to be dead, his best friend (one of the few people he had acknowledged his illness to, albeit somewhat vaguely) fleeing the country, his sister-in-law being abducted and abandoned by dutch while sadie and arthur undertake a desperate rescue mission and coming damn near close to failing. It took all of that bleakness, and a GUN to his HEAD, to finally say ‘I have tuberculosis and I’m dying’ in front of any of the people that would have actually tried to help him

AND it wasn’t even that he finally broke down in a moment of vulnerability, that he could no longer go on and finally needed to ask for help, oh no. He only said it out of defiance, out of spite, to tell milton that killing him here would scarcely change his fate. Doing his best to spit in the pinkertons’ eye one last time, to distract him, to stall, to say ‘I may die here but that’s hardly to your credit, I’m headed out the door anyway’ before attempting to fight the man hand to hand one last time

And somehow, he survived that act of defiance and lived long enough to make his way to commit one more act of defiance, to try to warn a man who certainly didn’t deserve it of the treachery within his ranks. Barely surviving that to commit one more act of defiance against his brother, sending him away, alone, rejecting any possibility of his own survival because it meant john might be able to make it out.

Had things never gotten so dire, they would likely have never known what exactly was going on with him - they could see that we was unwell, deeply so, but the last bit of normalcy he clung to was being the gang’s unwavering protector. In the end he couldn’t maintain that illusion for himself any longer, but he let go of it in service of that role.

So many of his final acts were done in defiance, out of love

[bitchfitch]

this is a vent post it's not meant to be actionable I just need to get some shit off my chest.

Tldr I come from an Exceptionally poor border town. The sort of place where you grow up with permanent lung damage from the mold growing in the school rooms bc there's no money to fix it. the sort of place that has no clean water but does have a Coca-Cola factory sitting on the other side of the river from us draining the one water resource in this fucking desert so they can sell it back to us in bottles and cans bc you can't drink the water that comes out of the tap. the sort of place you have to drive three hours one way for medical care.

This is a town with an 80% Hispanic population. The 20% that's not is here because of the military base that's been leaving tanks outside my grandmother's house.

Trump fucking killed my home town with his war on the border. He's called it out as a place for the righteous gun loving white Americans to take their guns to to protect the free country from" Mexican drug dealers and rapists". while ignoring this shit hole of a town has been settled longer than it's been a part of the US. My aunt's have sent pictures of maga facists walking the street outside the fucking mold ridden elementary school with rifles because it happens to be the same street that connects up to the Mexican town on the other side of the river.

And no one does Anything about it bc the few police officers who are locals and actually give a shit about the insane crime and kidnapping rate are beholden to Border Control who are still loyal to trump because he upped their pay enough to make escaping this town a possibility for their families.

Biden is going to hell for his support and complicity in the ongoing Palestine genocide. but so far he's passed bills that are going to pay to get our school fixed. our water clean. People who were locked up by ice under trump are walking free because of reforms Biden passed. I'm terrified for my family every single day because of Trump's actions in naming our home as a seat of the fucking cartels. My cousins are going to get to grow up without their water coming out of the sink yellow bc of Biden.

it's been fucking Impossible to handle the cognitive dissonance of the "can't handle the trolley problem" website looking at these two and saying they're the same. and I know it's because no one ever actually gave a shit about the poor brown people in our own fucking country Trump wanted dead on top of all the brown people he wants dead globally. but still. it's just fucking irksome to spend four years as a leftist gotcha only to be dropped as soon as we became inconvenient to their narrative.

[blood-grove]

scar trails

now -> next life (wip)

-> tws; injuries , gore , sickness , death , vomiting (basically everything you think to expect in a zombi apocalypse)

-> older brother!kyle & black child!reader

-> a/n: okay so right this has been in my head for days now..so hear you go! also boom the reader is black bc why tf wouldnt they be (ive been dying to write abt a black!reader for so long as a black person)

-> n/n - nickname

y/n - your name ofc

"n/n c'mon" I huffed as I dragged them away from the bugs they were fawning over ignoring there complaints as we kept walking.

We needed to keep heading toward the countryside but ever since Y/N got sick I've had to make us take detours for medicine, extra food, non-expired cough medicine to try and give them some relief, and looking extra for warm sleeping spots that weren't a walker nest.

It was just a cold I knew it was, I tried my best to keep them from worrying about turning.

They'd be okay once we reached Grandpa's.

I had been avoiding eating for a while I know it's dumb but they needed the food the more they ate the quicker they'd recover.

I wish I paid attention to Moms cooking more she always knew the best food to eat while sick, I had snatched a cookbook from a while back but it'd be no use with what we have.

Y/N had been a trooper throughout this all I honestly didn't know what to say we've been out here two months now and they've been going on strong.

I know they terrified though so am I but we have to keep moving.

"Are we there yet?"

"Y/n please don't start!—"

"I was quiet for five minutes like you said!"

I could just feel that cheeky grin on your face as we walked along the railroad not like any trains would be coming threw anytime soon.

It's been fifteen minutes of 'are we there yet' and I've considered turning into a walker.

We finally reached the next town that I figured out on the map, It was empty like the rest but on the next step closer to the country I saw a medicine store and grocery store and headed for them Y/n in tow.

"Do you think they have candy?! Can we get some please?"

Y/n whined as we entered the grocery store luckily still remembering to keep there voice down as I huffed.

"Look if the candy looks..alright we can get one box okay? But we need the space for food.." I whispered as I scanned the small shop's isles zoning in on packaged and canned food.

Dropping our rather light bag to the side to fill up checking the dates as I either tossed them in or tossed them aside.

Y/n went to the small section of the candy isle before coming back with a box for me to examine.

"Look it's those chewy ones mom gets!"

"Mm.. They look fine throw them in your bag.. I think we've got enough for the week now.."

I frowned slightly as I zipped up the bag hoisting it back on me it was certainly heavier but it'd be worth it.

Y/n carried their own bag but it was just medicine and there plushie I insisted I could carry them both but they wouldn't budge or let go.

I wish I was more vigilant we had moved on to the pharmacy Y/n was deciding which flavor medicine they wanted which honestly since it was warm liquid cough medicine it wouldn't taste good regardless.

Then the door opened again.

Now we both hid behind the cashier counter I gripped the handgun our parents gave me like our lives depended on it which it did.

Y/n huddled close to me keeping quiet despite their trembling.

I've never shot really anyone with the gun walkers or people.

People were iffy during these times.

We just avoided them even if it meant on missing out on shelter or food were not idiots.

The person stepped behind the counter and we pushed ourselves further under the counter basically squeezing each other to be smaller in the cramped space.

"I know you there no point n' hiding just come out and show yourself."

He sounded older his voice rough from either age or cigs nearly as familiar as Grandpa he'd just used to go on about not wasting your lungs on the things in that gravelly voice of his.

But this wasn't Grandpa of course.

A quick look at Y/n who was on the verge of sobbing.

I flicked the handguns safety off as I stepped out aiming it at the much larger man now that I had a better look at him.

He had backed up a bit when he caught sight of the handgun despite the obvious lack of experience I was probably showing.

Sweaty palms and trembling hands.

He looked older of course not so old that I could just rush him and hope one of his aging body parts acted up, He was clearly a bit more prepared than us his gear looked professional.

Military.

Not like the two school book bags that used to hold both of our homework that were slowly getting holes in them now carrying the only possessions you both had left in the world besides each other.

"Look mate- I don't mean you any—"

"Shut up."

My voice cracked as I inwardly cringed at the attempt to sound tough gripping the gun tighter.

"..I don't mean any harm okay?.."

The man shifted as he looked at me or mainly my gun I guess mentally deciding if I was bluffing with blanks or actually knew how to shoot.

Y/n was still huddled under the counter hidden.

"..Were your parents at? Seem a bit too young to be out here on your own."

I just glared further.

"..Go away."

"Kid..I-"

"Leave or I'll fuckin' s-shoot you-"

My hands trembled as I straighten his posture.

He just nodded as he left hands still up in the air in an unconvincing attempt to fool me that he wasn't a threat.

As soon as he left and didn't try to sneak back into the store I grabbed our bags hastily sacrificing some food so we wouldn't be slowed down making sure to snatch some medicine reminded by Y/n's coughing and now sobbing fit.

Picking them up despite them not being that smaller than me as we both left the area with haste.

We have to reach the countryside.

I want to go back to getting in extra sleep for summer break and staying up late at night with Y/n, Mom, And Dad watching shitty horror film and eating ice cream.

But now the summer heat was unbearable at time the too cool nights just made me worry for Y/n's cold.

I just want to go home and be a kid.

Why do I already feel so old?.

a/n: yeahh yup didnt plan this one out..

[sugolara]

𝙎𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮

ft. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

previous || series m.list || next

Feet crunching orange leaves and sticks, Katsuki, F/n, and Izuku walk through a forest that surrounds a city where a sanctuary is being held; Rhote. Although they were thankful for the cool air and for the moon to be up, they had to be wary as rotters seem to be more active at night.

They would glance at every noise that critters would make and even their own footsteps thinking someone would pounce on them. After countless of restless nights and coming across terrible people, it was evident that paranoia was seeping through.

Yawning and rubbing her eyes, F/n look ahead, “Please, let there be a house nearby or atleast a car.” 

Swatting flies that flew around him and groaning in annoyance, Katsuki looked around, “I doubt it. There’s nothing but trees and fucking bugs. It’s pissing me off.”

“Maybe they are attracted to you because you smell.” F/n shrugged innocently.

Katsuki mockingly laugh and harshly bumped into her, “Aren’t you fucking funny. You smell too.” 

“I meant it in a nice way.” F/n said as she peered at him. 

He scoffs, “There is no nice way when you’re covered in dirt, blood and sweat.”

“Keep it down.” Izuku began as his eyes wandered, “If someone’s nearby they’ll hear us. We don’t have enough strength to fight.” 

Katsuki rolled his eyes and stared at F/n, he then jokes, “We can sacrifice her.”

The girl gave him a look as Izuku shook his head. He knows that Katsuki’s trying to brighten the mood up. It felt like forever since they all had shared a laugh and that felt weird to Izuku, considering the fact that he himself was all about smiles. 

But he could tell that he was slowly slipping away.

“You guys see that?” F/n pointed to her right as a wide building with an open area stood ahead.

The males looked over, squinting in the dark as a couple wooden boxes were placed outside, “...A warehouse?”

 “Let’s go.” Izuku says and the two behind him follow. 

Sneakily crouching behind a few bushes, the three look around to see if they could spot any sign of human existence, but because it was dark and the tree's shadow covered the ground they couldn’t see shoeprints.

With a machete, pistol, and combat knife in hand, they make their way to the front of the warehouse. With no chains or locks around the wide double doors, they enter and shut it behind them.

“Oh my…” F/n says as her eyes widen at the shelfs of supplies. 

“This is months, maybe years of supplies…” Izuku’s eyes felt like they were beginning to water. 

Snapping out of his daze, Katsuki looks around and finds a couple of duffel bags, he then hands it to his friends, “We should hurry and get whatever we need. Someone isn’t dumb enough to leave all this behind.”

“Kacchan’s right. Whoever lives here might come back.” With that, the three separated; Katsuki in the front, Izuku in the middle, and F/n in the back near some small rooms. While Katsuki packed medical supplies and Izuku packed food, F/n filled her bag with ammo.

She smiled, mostly from relief as she and her friends would have guns to protect them with countless ammo. Every weapon she picked up, she made sure that the correct ammo was there. 

But as she filled her duffel bag the sound of a gun cocking and pressing against the back of her head made her stay still. 

“Try anything and I’ll shoot.” A cold whispered voice said.

Was this person dumb enough to not realize that guns were laying neatly around her?

Shaking her thoughts, F/n raised her hands to where the figure could see them and whispered, “Fuck.”

“Stand up.” He says and watches every movement that F/n makes. His fingers on the trigger in case she decides to pull something, “Are you alone?” 

Not wanting to endanger Izuku and Katsuki, her e/c eyes stare at the two toned hair male with a scar on his right eye, “Yes. Look, I don't want any trouble. Let me grab my stuff and I’ll be out of your way. I’ll never come back.”

The male scoffs as he doesn’t want to take any chances, “No.” 

Taking his answer, F/n quickly shifts to her side and hooks her arm underneath the male’s gun and elbows him on the stomach. 

Surprised by her sudden movement, the male drops his gun which gives F/n an opportunity to go after it but she doesn’t make it as the male trips her causing both to fall. 

They grunt as they both try to get the upper hand, hitting, punching, and pulling. As F/n kicks the scar male to a shelf, which causes items to fall and make loud noises, she’s a couple steps away from the gun and as her hand almost reaches it, the male shoves her into the ground and sits on top of her back as to not let her get away.

The gun slides a bit forward as F/n claws at the male's arm that reaches around her neck.

From the front of the warehouse, Izuku and Katsuki's ears perked up as the noises of things clashing and grunts caught their attention. They let their bags drop and run to their friend, worried she might be in danger as she hadn’t let a noise out.

The sound of choking and grunting got louder as the males got closer and closer. 

With her fingertips holding the handle of the pistol, she fully grabs it but her hand is slammed down from the force of the male. 

Reaching the gun again, both of their hands held onto it, their sounds of struggling caused them to be deaf from the rushing footsteps of Izuku and Katsuki.

Upon finding their friend, Izuku’s and Katsuki’s eyes widened as they recognized the male. A feeling of relief is lifted off their shoulders. 

As Izuku takes a step forward and calls his name out, a sudden gunshot rings through the building, echoing in every ear as a sudden frightened and worried look is in everyone’s faces.

[earworms-daily]

Day 6: Eat Your Young - Hozier

Listen Here

Honey, I wanna race you to the table If you hesitate, the getting is gone I won't lie, if there's something to be gained There's money to be made, whatever's still to come

Song Fact Book

Released March 17, 2023

When I tell you this man is Irish, you better believe it because this song references a piece of satirical writing by Johnathon Swift very heavily.

A Modest Proposal is a writing in response to the Irish Potato Famine (1845-1852) that suggested if there is no other way for the Irish to survive, it would be better for them to eat their young than let them live in such a terrible world. There are six ways suggested to eat their young. It was meant to be an inflammatory piece and bring people's attention to the horror of the hunger and desperation they lived in.

I could ramble on for a while about the history of the Irish Potato Famine, but I'll leave you with this: the song doesn't focus as much on the systemic destruction of a people group, but rather critiques the mindset of those in charge and how they decide to use those with less power and consider the loss of life inevitable and nothing less than the people's faults.

My Thoughts

This came out the very week that I finished reading A Modest Proposal so you better believe I played it on repeat until I'd figured out the meaning of each lyric and memorized every chord so that I could recognize it within a few beats of it being played. I had also researched the Irish Potato Famine pretty heavily a few months before the song was released so this really was the cherry on top of a hyper fixation of the year.

We could examine all the lusty undertones of this song, but I wanna talk about the social commentary going on here because I only noticed the lust after the horror.

Get some Pull up the ladder when the flood comes Throw enough rope until the legs have swung Seven new ways that you can eat your young Come and get some Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

Like holy shit this is some grotesque imagery

And it all really comes back to the military industrial complex of things where there's war profiteering and the "young" are brought into the military to continue feeding this machine and die in favor of raising a profit.

"Skinning the children for a war drum" -- generally when you skin a creature, you also plan to eat it so continuing on with the cannibalism motif here which feeds into the idea of the military industrial complex literally eating their country's young and using them up until there's nothing recognizable left

"Seven new ways that you can eat your young" -- in A Modest Proposal there are six ways listed to eat their young, now this implies that there's been a new way discovered since then, but also potentially plays into a theme of the seven deadly sins as gluttony, lust, and greed seem to be some of the major elements at play here

"Throw enough rope until the legs have swung" -- plays off the phrase "give them the rope that they'll hang themselves with", which is a fancy way of saying that if something potentially constructive or helpful is given to help those less well off, then they'll find some way to use it to harm themselves which is quite frankly untrue, but is reflective of the mindset carried by those Hozier is critiquing

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 26

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: some violence

Summary: Jason goes to get YN back from the doctor

Notes: only 2 more chapters after this!

Jason knew he wouldn’t be mentally able to plan this mission, so he let Bruce handle it. Bruce studied the small office building they were holed up in, located in Lower Gotham and surrounded by other abandoned buildings. There were probably various squatting camps nearby, innocents they were trying to protect themselves behind. Bruce was going to go into the front, try to keep however many of those working with the doctor distracted while Tim and Dick slid in from side windows to assist. The doctor would most likely stay with YN in case any of them got through, he might have her in a trap. The intent was probably to kill her and see what Jason did so he would have to keep his composure at least a little bit, until she was safe and then all of the rage he felt was going to be released on those people. Bruce would have to deal with them all being dead before Jason left that building tonight.

As they were gearing up, keeping an eye on the tracker just in case YN moved Bruce approached Jason. He waited for acknowledgment and Jason could tell he was worried.

“Sorry Bruce, I’m not going to be your good little Robin tonight,” Jason said, throwing a glance at him. Bruce stared hard at him, still quiet. His favorite tactic, just stew in silence until Jason talked, let him hang himself with words somehow. Not this time, Jason just worked on reassembling his last gun.

“I cannot condone what you want to do to them,” Bruce said finally. Jason holstered his weapon and turned to face his mentor. “They should be arrested and let the justice system deal with them.”

“The justice system in this entire country is shit, in this city its worse,” Jason said. “I am going to kill all of them, take YN away to that cabin, and after getting her help to recover from this whole traumatic experience we will decide if we want to come back. If we come back, then Red Hood isn’t going to be a nice little follower of Batman. People will still die, think of it like this, you can deter the ones who only offend once. I’ll take out the ones that can’t seem to help but be bad. But that’s only if we come back.”

“You would really abandon Gotham?” Bruce asked. Jason rolled his eyes, grabbing his helmet.

“Gotham is important to me, but its not my lifeblood, YN is my lifeblood and if she never wants to set foot in this city of blood again then we won’t,” he said. “Now let’s go.”

The room you were being kept in was, in a word, terrifying. A cage sat in the corner that looked like had once contained a large animal, blood was dried all over it and some scraps of what might have been beef lay scattered on the ground around it. A chair was in the corner, spikes for the seat, straps to hold someone in place. It also seemed to be covered in dried blood. An operating table was in the center of the room with instruments on a stand next to it and they all were, you guessed it, covered in blood. This room was where evil was practiced and perfected. It made you sick. But the thing that scared you most was the noose hanging from the ceiling. That looked new, like it was meant for you. They had dressed you in a white dress, ethereal in its design, some kind of angel they were going to kill to bring out the demon in Jason. You wouldn’t let that happen. You grabbed a rusty looking bone saw from the stand in the room, holding it behind your back, ready for the next time someone came in. You hoped it wasn’t all of four of them, you could maybe take one or two, but all four and you would be hanging dead in minutes.

You knew something was happening when only Strange came into the room, looking frazzled. He grabbed you roughly, turning your body, pulling at the dress, ripping it a little, as he searched and finally found the small injection site on the back of your neck where you had forced Tim to implant the tracker. Once he turned you back to face him you struck with the bone saw, scrapping the dulled blade down his cheek. He cried out, backing up and grabbing at the gash, seeping blood everywhere. His eyes turned feral, and he came back at you. You once again swung the blade, but he was expecting it, grabbing your arm with one hand, the other sending a fist to your face. Your head snapped back at the impact, stars blinding you as pain seeped through your skull. He took this moment and gripped you under your arms, heaving you onto the table, jumping up himself. You recovered and started to scramble, trying to grab at him, pull him down, but he was using all his strength to stay on the operating table. He grabbed your hair, yanking your head back to punch you again, sending more pain blooming through your mind. You recovered faster this time, but he had already stood you up and had gotten the noose around your neck, tightening it. Your hands went to the rope, trying to get your fingers under the strands, yank it off, loosen it just a little, anything to stop the panic that was starting to grow in your nervous system.

“O, Red Hood, lovely to see you,” you heard the doctor say. Your eyes darted around until you realized Jason was behind you and Strange was holding your shoulders steady so you couldn’t turn. “O don’t come too close, this table isn’t very steady, one little push and she will break her pretty neck.”

“You know better than to do that. You kill her, I kill you, then you can’t finish your little study,” Jason said, the mechanical voice bringing you calm. It never occurred to you that Jason could lose. You had more faith in him than anyone else. You assumed that the others were around, probably taking care of the other three, but still, Jason was there, that was truly what made you feel safe. Strange stepped down from the table, leaving you hanging up there, still struggling to free yourself. You felt the table move a little as he pushed it with his foot.

“You may kill me, but you will kill everyone and everything if she dies. That barely suppressed rage brought on by the Lazarus Pit will consume you the moment your world turns gray, and you know you can’t bring her back,” the doctor said. Jason knew he was right. If he didn’t save YN, everything else was going to die with her. There was no point to a dark world without her in it. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He held up his gun and aimed it for Strange’s head.

“I can just shoot you, I’m sure your friends downstairs are already tied and up and ready for me to execute,” Jason said. Strange chuckled a little. He was arrogant, Jason could see that, maybe he thought that they would be joining him soon. Jason wasn’t an idiot, its why he had taken extra time to come up here. He had waited until Batman, Nightwing, and Robin had the other three under control and contained before he came here. Now he just wanted to end this.

“My friends downstairs may be neutralized, but that just means it will be easier for you to start your rage killing spree,” Strange said. He kicked his leg back, sending the table skittering across the room. YN dropped, Jason fired, the bullet hitting Strange between the eyes. He ran over to where she fell, expecting the world to be gray, feeling the rage already pushing to be let out. But that didn’t happen, her neck didn’t break. He hurried, pulling the table back and climbing up on it, getting her to stand. He saw that she had managed to get her fingers under the rope, making the impact of the fall less stressful on her neck, saving her. He panted, getting the noose off of her neck and pulling her close. She panted and looked at him.

“I didn’t mean it,” she said. Jason nodded. “After this…when what’s happened finally sets in, I’m sorry for how I’m going to be.” He nodded again. He helped her up and they walked down the stairs into the lobby of the office where Zsasz, Flamingo, and Stirk were tied up, Batman, Nightwing, and Robin watching them. Jason gently passed YN to Tim, who hugged her tight as Jason leveled his gun.

“Red Hood…” Batman tried to caution, but it was useless. Three shots, three dead murders and one still living. He looked at Bruce and saw the disappointment, but he didn’t care. If Bruce really thought that these men were able to be saved, or could be contained even, he was a fool and Jason wanted no part in his family. Bruce changed nothing, Jason still had control of North Gotham and it was the safest part of the city. What Jason did meant something and Bruce wasn’t going to stop him.

“Just keep my territory safe while I’m gone Batman, did a lot of work to lower the crime rate there,” Jason said. Bruce just nodded. “Come on YN, let’s get home, I’ll call Dr Thompkins.” This was going to be a long road but they would be alright, they were together, it would all be ok in the end.