#have drawn him like a total of 5 times i think

[jadecantcreate]

I will sell you my absolute heart and soul if you draw Torbek in the bunny suit

the man, the myth, the legend: stinky playboy bunny bugbear

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic!Danny Phantom- pt. 8

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been to the hospital in the past three years, I’d have enough money to buy a bag of skittles from Target. Most of it wasn’t for me though lol I’ll add this onto the list in a bit, but I tend to do that from my desktop but I’m still currently attached to an IV drip. I’ve also never been this hydrated in my life lmao

——

Danny poked a puffed up pufferfish. The poison floated through his ghost form and did nothing but give him a little zap. Danny chuckled, wiping away a bit of oil that had gotten onto the fish from a nearby oil spill. Jesus fuck. Danny knew that bald headed, easily drawn Vlad wannabe from across the river would do something terrible to Gotham’s waters (not that it needed help being atrocious to Danny’s clean water appreciation).

The puffer fish- Danny gave up on understanding Gotham’s water ecosystem, having realized that it was a cursed mix of saltwater and freshwater and swamp- gave a fearful little wiggle and Danny let it go, turning to the oil particles floating around.

Danny took out his phone.

“Danny? Why the hell are you calling at three in the morning?”

Danny raised a hand and blasted out some ice, gathering the oil up. “Hey Sam. If I got you into contact with Poison Ivy, do you think you could team up to get rid of Lex Luthor’s new holding company in Gotham?”

“Danny, are you asking me to commit an act of ecoterrorism?”

“That’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve ever asked you to do.” Danny placed a hand on the ice mass and flew it, the oil, and himself across the river to Metropolis.

“Deal.” Sam’s voice gets further away as she pulled her phone from her ear. “I’ll text Tucker, see if he could futz with Luthor’s taxes. I heard her doesn’t even give his workers a livable wage, and that’s so not gonna fly.”

“Perfect! Thanks! We could totally meet up and hang out with my new friends!”

“Hah! That Tim guy? The one that wanted you to introduce Phantom to him?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, goth girl.”

“Sure, dork. I’ll swing by Friday?”

“Sure! Want me to pick you up?” Danny phased through Lex Luthor’s frankly ridiculous amounts of security measures, still completely invisible and towing a giant mass of oil covered ice.

“Cool. Now hang up. I actually need sleep.”

“Ah, you must be dead tired. I get it.”

Sam hung up, and a second later, Danny got a pic of her holding up a middle finger with her signature purple nail polish.

Danny stared down at the sleeping billionaire. Gross. He let his face re enter the visible spectrum and lowered the temperature of the room drastically. Luthor groaned, waking up as he shivered like a hyped up chihuahua.

Danny bared his teeth, glowing green skin reflecting the black holes of the universe and imploding stars and burning planets as he leaned towards the frozen two bit villain.

“RESPECT THE PLANET,” Danny snarled. He unmelted the invisible ice as he simultaneously made the oil visible, the entirety of the oil spill coating every single inch of Luthor’s penthouse bedroom. Danny winked out, but not before snapping a quick picture of Lex Luthor’s absolutely covered in his company’s oil spill.

If Danny had made sure that there were fish droppings mixed in with the oil… that was his own damn business.

——

Danny floated over to a brooding Batman.

“Do you have two hundred dollars on you?” Danny asked in lieu of a greeting.

Batman grunted a yes.

“Two hundred dollars for a photo of Lex Luthor being hit with karma.”

Batman instantly handed over the cash and received a printed out photo of Lex Luthor (in his Lexcorp pjs) covered by fossil fuel.

"Is this..."

"The oil from his oil spill? Yes."

Batman stared at the picture.

"Why was this more expensive than ID'ing corpses?"

"Cause it's funnier. And dead people deserve more consideration than a egg looking ass polluting everything he touches."

Superman zoomed into the space in front of them, face eager.

"I heard you had something about Luthor?"

Danny figured that Batman probably contacted the hero, and confidently said, "$200 for personal use, $300 for commercial use."

Superman quickly got together three hundred dollars in cash and quickly forked it over. Danny gave him another physical copy of the photo and a usb drive with the photo in a digital format.

"I am so pinning this up." Superman muttered.

"Get out of my city." Batman said flatly. Superman waved a hand, beamed at Danny, and left.

"Did you know Gotham's waters is a mixture of freshwater, swamp, and saltwater habitats?"

Batman grunted.

"Also, please stop stalking Danny Fenton. It's odd."

Batman swiveled his head over. "What."

Danny stared him down. "Stop. Stalking. Innocent. Bystanders. Or else I will recreate the phrase "drowned rat" with you as the subject."

Batman stilled.

"I don't kill, by the way. I can, however, dunk you in the sea and lift you up like a goth version of Simba."

Batman relaxed minutely. "I can't."

"And why not?"

Batman gave him a despairing look. "Have you met my children?"

"... Point."

[drabblejester]

Ratio, Sampo, Aventurine, Jing Yuan and Mr Reca overhead reader feels about them (basically reader has a crush on them)

how VARIOUS HSR GUYS would react to OVERHEARING YOU CONFESS!

requested by: anon :3

pairings: ratio, sampo, aventurine, jing yuan, and mr. reca x gn!reader

content warnings: none!!

comments: im devouring a pizza rn as of typing this. its so good.. this one is also in bulletted list bc i didnt get any specifications sorry my liege<3

AVENTURINE:

he overhears you talking on the phone in another room, probably to your friend. he isn’t one to eavesdrop but just this once…

he acts very calm about it, totally poker-faced to the point where you think he didn’t hear for WEEKS

until one night he asks you about it, and tells you to talk to him about it more later.

you fall asleep with him, and when you wake up, you tell him as promised!!

he still has to get used to people. y’know. liking him. so he’s a bit awkward for a while, but he warms up! sadly doesn’t soften up for a LONG while though

SAMPO:

he overhears you talking to an interviewer in belobog talking about a ‘handsome blue haired man’

first of all he is FLATTERED that someone in this cold world actually likes him. second of all he registers that someone likes him about 5 seconds later and panics a bit

truly, his whimsical and silly demeanor has captivated you! but it was meant to be for lying and getting away with things, not actual flirting. so he thinks he’s screwed

but he’s NOT screwed! he makes a plan to corner you later in the night to have a bit of banter, but you end up cornering him!!

you two talk for a bit, you talk about how cool and yummy he is. he says it back and you both end up having a great night! maybe a kiss or two persnaps…

DR. RATIO:

he accidentally peeks over your shoulder at your texts (god damn curiosity) and sees you panic texting someone about the Super Duper Hot Professor Man that just so happened to pass by you. and that’s now standing behind you.

now obviously you probably freak out because oh my gods thats the guy RIGHT BEHIND YOU. you turn around and stammer for a bit

sadly ratio just gives you a dirty look (not on purpose) and tells you to seek knowledge, not him. he winds up lecturing you about feelings and professionalism for a good 20 minutes

you go home and wind down for a bit to process the lecturing, and just hang out. you start to have some second thoughts about everything

until a nice little package arrives at your door, with a nice cooked meal and a note that’s a very passive aggressive way of saying ‘take care of yourself’

JING YUAN:

he overheard you gossiping with the guards, and nothing escapes his ears. he didn’t confront you about it right away of course, since he didn’t want to freak you out or anything

so instead, he just played the waiting game. he waited for weeks upon weeks, hearing all the thoughts you thought about him, and every little thing you tried to do to court him

and he’s flattered!! very flattered actually. he decides to eventually send a guard out with a hand written letter to you, simply saying to meet him at a restaurant he found out you frequented

you two meet there, talk for a bit, but not as a general and you. you talk like strangers but in the best way possible, getting to know even more about eachother!! you eat some yummy food and chitchat the night away

and eventually he brings you back to his place, settling you down with some tea and light snacks. maybe a few long-drawn stories to help you sleep. sadly (or thankfully) he ends up asleep before you, so you have extra time to admire him :3

MR. RECA:

he finds out through social media! you broke his ‘no recording in the studio’ rule, posted a blurry video somewhere, and went absolutely crazy over him in the caption

he’s upset that you broke his rule, but at the same time. thinks its interesting. he doesn’t do much else except revisit the post once more before meeting with you

you two meet up in his office, and he immediately brings up the post. of course you apologize so so hard about breaking the rules, but he waves it off!!

eventually the conversation ends up circling around to emotions (with a bit of help from memokeepering), and you spill all your thoughts and feelings right then and there. he’s slightly shocked, but it soon turns to a smile before politely telling you to leave his office

you’re definitely nervous, but it all fades away once you find out you’ve been casted in the main role alongside him! for better or for worse though, it’s a romance production. that asshole.

im fucking up this pizza rn my lieges its so yummy

[theambitiouswoman]

I have been celibate for 3+ years & I wanted to share how this has helped shaped who I am.

Disclaimer: This is not me telling you what to do with your life and your bodies. It comes with zero judgement. I am of the belief that there is a season for everything, and we evolve into many different people in our life. I would be remiss if I didn't say that I definitely think it's a good idea to practice it. I do believe that psychologically, spiritually & emotionally having casual sex has a lot of negative implications for both men and women. However your beliefs around intimacy are purely up to you. Sex isn't bad, that's not what I am saying, but when you are having sex with someone you are absorbing their energy, and the energy of their past lovers too, so having sex with the wrong person can really ruin you.

Honestly the idea of anyone touching me if they do not meet my needs emotionally, mentally, physically etc absolutely disgusts me. I have never been of the type of let anyone "have me" but even more so now. Remember that when you start treating yourself differently, your perspectives and the things you are attracted to also start to change.

Maybe some girls don't understand this so I am going to say it. You do not have to sleep with a man for him to like you, love you, treat you well, or buy you things. If you haven't experienced this, you may not agree. But this is my reality and the reality of so many others, so yes it is actually totally possible.

I will say that the first year can be difficult but after that it gets much easier cause your mindset changes. I recommend taking that first year to really dive in and analyze your relationships, work on your wounds etc. Feeling lonely is something I see come up a lot, and while human beings are not designed to be alone, you should not feel lonely and that is probably a good starting point to work on with yourself if that is the case.

Anyway, these are some of the changes I have experienced:

1. Greater mental clarity and can focus more on personal goals, career & self development.

2. Reduced emotional turbulence. Creating better emotional balance and inner peace.

3. Realizing self love and self worth come from you, rather than seeking external validation. It reduces stress, increases self awareness & provides identity outside of others.

4. Higher standards, better boundaries. Intimacy is a choice, not a necessity. Being unable to control your lust is a weakness. Understand that falling in love purely through sex is lust, wounds and attachment / abandonment issues, need for validation, insecurity etc.

5. Insane increase to intuition.

6. Gives you control over your body and life. It allows you to be more selective about who you let into their personal space.

7. Increased creativity & passion to channel into art, projects, or other personal endeavors.

8. For those recovering from past trauma or heartbreak, celibacy can be a time for healing and self reflection. It offers the space to process emotions, heal old wounds and rediscover yourself.

9. No energetic enmeshments with toxic souls, which btw you are absorbing all of it. Grosses me out any time I think about it.

10. Even prettier than before (but i'm sure not entertaining toxic men and drama contributes to that as well)

11. People are even more drawn to be because of my strong sexual energy & pure aura.

[superm4ks]

max's best drive ever?

Not just Max's, but 1 of the best drives in the history of the sport, definitely 1 of the finest ever driven on the intermediate tire. The way he made those tires perform on a wet resurfaced track where theres no mercy found in the white line, no rubber to build on, no drs, no easy overtake, just better cornering, that natural ability to take turns as if the racing line was drawn in front of him that is so his and so so devastating. People watch Austria and Mexico and c recklessness where theres only strength, control and complete lack of fear. In races like todays tho, u get to admire those same hands command the same respect without any room for doubt that he knows, in fact, what hes doing. Any advantage the machines may provide will dwindle and nearly dissipate because in conditions like todays it truly comes down to who knows better. And Max knew better from the moment the lights turned green. I think six cars before the main straight, dispatched, turned to nothing. When conditions worsened and race control began to play wid outcomes he not only endured, he thrived. While others began to pit he trusted himself to stay out, and he wasnt the only one but he was the 1 who did it best. 8 years ago, Max went and found grip everywhere else, and today, in the same circuit, where there was literally no grip to be found, he simply found the better line. He read the race like his favorite book while others could barely color within the shapes. It was somewhat insane to watch tbh, that disparity between racers, not only found in overtakes like on Oscar and Esteban, so crucial and so similar in the way he just knew how to position the car to catch them completely off guard, but also like, the pace alone, the relentless onslaught of perfect lap after perfect lap, 9 consecutive I think, 17 in total. This was a drive that nearly eclipsed 2023, first shades of last year without Newey in the pit wall, in a car that did so badly in Mexico it was getting outpaced by an Haas in its strongest tire. He didnt just come out from p17, he came out of a 20 second penalty, a 5 second penalty during a delayed VSC, an hammer to his quali chances for a late red flag, community service for swearing, shameless questioning of his driving, his wheel, his credibility as a champion, not just his racing but his character, too. I think its the context of all that that rlly makes the best drive of his career so far, because this was his best possible answer, and the only one that matters. p17 to p1 wid a 20 second lead. Some will reminisce about Senna, some will notice that early corner entry and admit Schumacher himself wud have struggled even a few times, the other legend on track whos as good in the wet didnt have the setup nor the confidence to show it, but I think today was a result only Max Verstappen cud have accomplished

[yuri-is-online]

Hi! Congratulations on getting more followers! You totally deserve it:)

Can I ask for prompt 5 with Floyd, Idia and Leona?

Thank you<3

5. Jealousy pt.1- seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

（＾ワ＾） thank you annon, your words mean a lot. Of course you can! how did i know Floyd was gonna get this prompt

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, miscommunication and jealousy but everything ends happy. Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Floyd

Floyd unceremoniously dumps you off his in a secluded corner of the gymnasium hallway.   “Shrimpy…" he whines, yanking on the hem of the used gym shirt you are wearing as he uses his other arm to cage you against the wall "where did you get that shirt?” “From the laundry basket in your room this morning?”  He had stolen your blazer a few days ago to as a joke so you had impulsively decided to pay him back by snatching something of his. He's always whining about wanting you to wear is clothes anyway, why is he so upset? “It’s yours isn’t it?” “Nah.” Floyd's lips purse in displeasure.  “Nah, that's Jade’s not mine.  If ya look, he has his name written in stupid little letters on the tag.”  Oh.  OH.  Well, now you just feel stupid and fix your eyes firmly on his shoes. How could you be so stupid? Of course, some of Jade's clothes would be in the room's ONE laundry basket. Hell, you aren't actually sure Floyd uses the hamper now that you think about it. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the teasing as you look up prepared to apologize, only to completely lose your train of thought at the sight of Floyd yanking his jersey over his head. “FLOYD!”

“Huh?  What’s wrong lil shrimpy?" A very sharp grin emerges from the cloth, though he doesn't bother to take his arms out of the shirt just yet. "I'm on the bench aaaaaaaany way ‘s not like I need it.” “You’ll be cold!” It's the wrong argument to make when he practically has you pinned to the wall. “No I won’t,” he giggles, good mood blown back to life by the flames of your embarrassment “and if you’re that worried just stay here and squeeze me.”

Idia

"You're seriously too unaware for your own good." Idia mutters, wrapping himself further into Jack's jacket as you try to hide yourself in his hoodie. The outline of his hair flickers a gentle pink as the two of you try your best to avoid looking at each other.

"He was just worried about me being cold because I wouldn't stop sneezing during class." Idia's sweatshirt smells surprisingly nice, and once you get the courage to look up at your boyfriend he doesn't look bad in the regular uniform jacket either. Though you have to admit, he is at his cutest when he is comfortable and he definitely is not right now.

"We aren't in the same classes so I miss out on time limited quests like that, huh." He mutters, reaching up to fidget with his headphones while you wonder if touching him would spook him too much. "It's almost like everyone forgets we're together."

"I'd never let them do that!" You decide to risk it, wrapping your arms around Idia's torso in a loose embrace he can escape if he needs to. It forces him to really look you over, taking in the full sight of you in his hoodie and a deep, deep breath.

It makes his hair explode into a beautiful hot pink display.

"On second thought take it off." He squeaks, jumping back from your hug and burying his face in his hands.

"Idia-"

"Quick, I can't handle this much agrro!"

Leona

There is an angel at rest in the furthest corner of the NRC library. Their head is firmly smashed against a text book, leaving a clear dent in their cheek that is threatening to turn into a series of paper cuts. Anyone would look at them and be drawn in...

Which was precisely the problem. Someone had forgotten they had a much more comfortable place to nap and a much more comfortable partner than a stack of old books, and hadn't gone looking for him, forcing Leona to do some work for once. And good thing he decided to go on patrol too, some small brained herbivore had decided to try and push in on his territory. As if sensing his presence, you stir in your sleep slightly and Leona suppresses a smile. Barely.

"Oy." Leona bats the offending jacket off from around your shoulders, resisting the urge to turn it to sand, reminding himself that would be petty and beneath him.

Exactly where that jacket was right now.

"Leona?" You murmur sleepily, trying to resist the temptation to rub your eyes. His heart clenches painfully in denial of how cute you are.

"What are you some sort of cub? Making me come looking for you like this." His insults make you smile for some reason as you reach to shove your books back into your bag blissfully unaware of the jealousy storming behind them.

"Let's go take a nap," you hum, well aware those are some of Leona's favorite words "I had a really nice dream about you, wanna actually wake up in your arms next time." Well now, Leona certainly isn't going to argue with that.

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[masked-men-fantasy]

Ask about their manhood size Headcanon (Call of Duty)

Headcanon for my beloved masked men from Call of Duty. What are their sizes down there?

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Jackal

He hid his surprise under the mask when you asked the question about his private part. Not that he hates the question; he is just surprised...

Around 8 1/2 inches.

He has a shower-type cock. So you won't see much difference when he is soft and hard.

Same color as his skin.

Not clean-shaven, but also not bushy. Well-trimmed. It is for the sake of cleanliness, he claimed.

He is proud of his size. He believes that this is the perfect size to satisfy you.

Never, ever joke about his manhood. Because if you do, he will show you what this cock can do until dawn.

"Come on, try to keep up," would be the last thing you hear before you collapse in his arm.

Mace

He will just drag you to the nearest toilet and let you find out with your own eyes. Or hands.

Judging from your eyesight, that should be somewhere around 7-8 inches, give or take.

Trimmed, almost fully shaven.

What surprises you is that his cock also has a crocodile scar, similar to what he has on his body.

He would ask you if you wanted to feel how those scars worked inside. And luckily, your curiosity is likely to win over reason and logic this time.

Ghost

"Confidential," he said.

But if you insist on him enough, with some help from a shot of Baileys, he will give you a hint.

"Can you see a watch on my wrist? Flatten it. That is the exact same length as what I have down there."

Luckily, you and Simon have the same model of watch. So you just flatten it on the counter bar to see the answer.

Let's just say you are more than satisfied with the truth that has been revealed.

"Now that I tell you about my secret, you gotta tell me yours to," Ghost said shortly in a husky voice, but his eyes surely mean he looks for something more than just a typical secret from you.

Oh... you think you know where this is going now.

Nikto

"нет (No)" He answered coldly. And no matter how many times you beg, he will not answer.

Until one day, you find him naked in the locker room by accident.

It is neither that big nor that long, probably because it is soft now. So you think it is quite normal size.

But the main event is what happened after. You are not sure why, but probably because of his nervousness, his manhood suddenly grows—rapidly, tremendously.

6 inches total, with somewhere around 5–6 inches of girth. It might not be that long, but the girth is insanely huge. You wonder if someone would be able to take all of that in.

Now that he is fully erected, he has to find someone to take responsibility for this matter. And then his eyes were drawn to you.

"Take care of this now, сука (bitch)," Nikto said as he held his shaft that pointed directly to you.

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Viktor Nikiforov appreciation post: cute reactions to Yuuri skating his FS for the first time in competition

Every time I watch YOI, Viktor's reactions to Yuuri's skating are a source of pure delight. Especially that first time that he watches Yuuri skate his free programme in competition is a hilarious rollercoaster across the emotional spectrum.

Surprise / shock: "That's not the opening combo Yuuri was supposed to jump"

Viktor still has to learn that on the ice, Yuuri does what Yuuri wants and not what his coach wants. That 4T+2T took him off guard and makes him low-key nervous because he has absolutely no idea where this is going to end when his naughty student already starts off with a different combo than he was supposed to jump.

Nervousness: Hiding behind Plush Makkachin (1)

It dawns on Viktor that Yuuri indeed didn't listen to him, so he's bracing himself for disaster to unfold. Yuuri is prone to messing up his jumps and with 8 jumping passes (11 jumps in total), the free programme provides MANY opportunities for Yuuri to mess up. Having a naughty student must be hard for an inexperienced coach. But hiding behind his tissue box won't help, he'll only miss the best parts.

Indignation: "He really didn't want me!"

No Viktor, your pushiness made Yuuri uncomfortable. You don't know that he doesn't remember the banquet. But even if he did, do you really think he would have been happier? Things don't work like that with your nervous katsudon. This is one of those lines where the audio is etched into my brain. Junichi Suwabe really did an amazing job at Viktor expressing indignation. +5 GOE in cuteness.

Concern

When your naughty student who never listens to you and who's prone to messing up tires in the middle of the programme despite being rumoured to have a lot of stamina, that's ample reason to be worried. This is Viktor's first competition as a coach. Although he saw Yuuri skate in practice, he has no idea what to expect because competitions are fairly different from practice.

Joy / pride: "3A clean!"

Ahh, look how excited he is! That's a proud and supportive coach!

Rapture

He's hiding again, but not completely because the beauty of Yuuri's skating enraptures him. It's the first time he's seeing Yuuri skate this programme and giving his all because competitions have stakes. And while the mistakes freak him out, Yuuri making music is what Viktor has been drawn to since that video in which Yuuri copied him went viral. If he only knew that right now Yuuri is making this music for him!

Suspense: Hand down on the 3A+Eu+3S sequence!

That's me when I watch figure skating and my fave makes a mistake. He's just so invested in Yuuri's performance because he cares.

Disappointment: Yuuri probably just got a concussion, but all Viktor thinks about is his score

Regardless of his lack of experience, Viktor is a very supportive coach. But he also has quite of a savage streak. Who's gonna tell him that Yuuri just had a very important realisation? Experienced skaters normally don't jump into the barrier like that.

Positive surprise: "It's me!"

Yes, darling. It has always been you. The whole point of Yuuri's free programme is figuring out his feelings for you and showing you his love.

Figure skaters are expected to perform to the judges. That ending pose, the Eros intro, that move with the hands in Stammi Vicino are supposed to be performed towards the judges. However, except for that one time Yuuri blows the judges a kiss, he always performs towards Viktor. So that's why...

Just don't, babe. Your katsudon just showed you his love. You still have a lot to learn, but that's okay. He loves you anyway.

Originally, I've made this post to appreciate how cute Viktor reacts to Yuuri's skating. But somewhere in the middle, I've realised how much this first competition reveals about Viktor, even this early in his partnership with Yuuri. His reactions prove that he is totally invested in Yuuri's skating and that he deeply cares for Yuuri doing well on the ice, no matter what everyone who wants him to stop coaching claims. He doesn't need experience in coaching to care for Yuuri. Just that he cares from the start is one of the things that make him so precious.

[animehideout]

Hiiii could you please add INTP for your MBTI series? 🩷🩷🩷

Your MBTI, Your Relationship With JJK Characters Part 6

INTP + ESFP

Check out Part 5 here

check out part 7 here

a/n: Thank you Anon, @tojiiismyhusband @system753 @venus-xxoo for requesting INTP. Also thank you @suchasecretiveninja for reading 🫶🏻💕 I hope you enjoy these headcanons.

INTP:

Gojo Satoru = Fiancé

As an introvert who relies on the power of mind, I think you'll be fine having a loud extrovert as your partner; Gojo Satoru. INTP appreciates an open-minded partner who is willing to engage with them in intellectual conversations, challenges and debates, and Gojo is the one. INTP has a unique sense of humor that couldn't be understood by everyone, so with Gojo being witty, he'll find no problem in matching your vibe and continuing with your jokes even in serious situations, making the relationship even more enjoyable. Gojo is egocentric, so your wittiness would humble him everytime. INTPs prioritize logic, but also crave emotional connection which is the case for Satoru, he's so affectionate with you, and willing to satisfy your emotional needs. A balance between intellectual discussion and emotional support. Also both of you value independency so none of you feels restricted in the relationship. Let's not forget that Gojo is an ENTP so you're basically his introverted version.

Megumi Fushiguro = Friend

INTP values friendships that align with intellectual curiosity, and with Megumi being an intellectual himself with smart ideas, you'd totally become hooked. You would engage in deep existential conversations, debate and explore abstract concepts, while at the same time you respect each other solitude and independence without forcing your opinions on each other. Megumi is an honest person and honesty is something that INTP values. You are a fan of constructive criticism and feedback, you accepted it as long as it makes you grow mentally. Despite being logical most of the time you still have warm emotions which is the heart of your friendship.

Toji Fushiguro = Has a crush on you

INTPs are determined despite being a huge procrastinators. Toji likes how logical and rational you are and how you neglect your feelings when taking decisions and life choices. Despite being an introvert you engage well in conversations in public making you look like as if you are an extrovert. You are good at making your voice and ideas heard and understood. Toji appreciates your self-confidence even though you hide a lot of anxiety inside of you. He is also charmed by your mockery for situations that others may find scary, but you manage to find a humor in them, even though your humor serves as a coping mechanism. All these qualities made Toji drawn to you.

Ryomen Sukuna = Love hate relationship

Sukuna loves you but hates you at the same time. Despite him seeing humans as inferiors, he can't help the attraction he has for your badass side. He is attracted to your analytical thinking and overly logical mindset. As the king of curses, he sees human emotions as a weakness and burden so seeing a human who actually relies on their mind and neglect feelings intrigued him. Your unique and controversial thinking is also another hook for his interest. Your witty side completely swept him off his feet, you're kind of similar in this. Having a mocking and quirky kind of humor is kinda relatable for him. But at the same time he hates your resistance. INTPs worship independence and freedom, they completely oppose submission to someone else and don't accept forced rules. Let's not forget that Sukuna is an extrovert so extroverts that want to forcefully dominate introverts for perceiving them as shy individuals who are unable to defend themselves is a type that INTPs can't stand and that's how the tension / hate between you too was born.

ESFP:

Aoi Todo = Boyfriend

ESFP is a lively and affectionate partner you, totally match Todo energy. Your presence keeps him recharged, your energy and enthusiasm are infectious. Despite him being strong both physically and mentally he still needs your affection to function properly. INTP infuses excitement and passion in the relationship. Given that both of you and Todo are extroverts you thrive on social interactions and enjoy spending time together doing fun and spontaneous activities. You also have similar love languages. Both of you are also sensors so you have an awareness of each other's discomfort which brings a huge understanding between the two of you.

Geto Suguru = Rival

One thing that was able to make you consider Geto as your enemy; lack of emotions and empathy. ESFPs are highly emotional individuals they are expressive and very sympathetic towards others. Geto's ruthless side clashes with your nature, effortlessly creating a hurdle. His behaviors choices and mindset go against your principals and values leading to a significant conflict. You can connect with trustworthy people but with him there's no connection, you believe that empathetic individuals can't be trusted as they only care about their own desires without taking into account other people's well-being. On the other hand, Geto sees you as weakling and a burden on society for simply being an emotionally oriented.

Kamo Noritoshi = Source of comfort.

As someone who has dealt with a lot, lacking the families' warmth in his life, he always find himself indirectly dependent on you for some comfort. ESFP excels at expressing empathy through both words and actions Despite Noritoshi skills at hiding his emotions, you as a sensor you can sense his troubled spirit and provide for him a safe space by acknowledging and understanding his feelings without judgment and serve as a listener when he's ready to open up. Aside from comfort you also radiate a contagious positive energy that can break through the toughest walls. It makes ESFPs happy knowing that they had a positive impact on people around them.

Thank you for reading, remember this piece of writing is just for fun, also IMO so it's not necessarily accurate ✨

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (11)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on. wc: 2.7k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: I know this part is long overdue, I've been very busy lately and I can't seem to write anything good for me to post. But do not fret, I am back and better than ever before (lol) Also, thank you for patiently waiting for this update🤍

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"I WOULD HAVE STRANGLED HIM IF I WERE YOU."

Y/n frowned as she watched the slight furrow on her friend's brow, adding an element of emphasis to her words.

A moment of silence passed between them before Sandy rolled her eyes, leaning against the plush couch in the living room with a tall glass in her hand. "I'm just saying," she explained. "He was being a total jerk."

She let out a sigh. A slight confusion weaved itself whenever she contemplated him. She thought that voicing out her emotions on what occurred these past few days could ease her, yet thinking of him was only making her question her sanity. It was as if her mind was attempting to decipher a language it didn't fully comprehend, leaving her caught between curiosity and apprehension.

She honestly didn't know what to think anymore. One minute she felt like she was head over heels for the guy, and the next minute strangling him didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

She could even list all of the things about him that riled her up, yet somehow the thought of having her hands wrapped around his throat reminded her of something entirely different, which was why she found herself saying, "You know, he would actually enjoy that."

Sandy raised her brows. "What? Getting choked to death?"

She scoffed. "No, not to that extent. But like, in another context." She then narrowed her eyes. "If you know what I mean."

The subtle innuendo didn't go unnoticed as Sandy's eyes widened in surprise. "No way."

"Way."

"Damn," her friend mused before taking a sip of her drink. "Smart and kinky. If only he wasn't such an ass to you."

Smart and kinky weren't exactly words she considered using in one sentence, but the sound of them put together surprisingly sounded enticing. It sounded enticing enough that her mind was starting to play tricks on her. It sounded good enough that she found herself starting to miss him, even when logic dictates that she shouldn't.

And now it sounded compelling enough that she couldn't help but weigh in the pros and cons when it came to the man, putting the cons on his ability to switch attitude in a span of seconds into a completely different person—not to mention his tendency to assume biased reasonings based on poor judgment.

On the other hand, the pros were very hard to ignore. There was a certain charm in his awkward demeanor, especially in his shy and uncertain smile every time it was directed her way. Then there was also his intelligent mind she was definitely drawn to.

But above all that, he was, without a doubt, a certified freak in the sheets.

And that was on top of her list.

A subtle sigh escaped her lips, revealing a hint of her internal struggle. "I mean, he did have a good point, don't you think?"

"Y/n," Sandy warned disapprovingly.

"What? He was only doing his job..." She glanced at her. "...right?"

"This is the alcohol talking," Sandy dismissed before standing up. "You would never forgive a man this easy if you were sober."

"It's Margarita Night, what's the point of being sober?" She proved her point by finishing the last drop of liquor from her glass, the vibrant notes of freshly squeezed lime and tequila playing across her taste buds.

Sandy simply scoffed as she took her glass and disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking together following behind as she started making them a refill. 

Y/n leaned back and closed her eyes, her body poised for a moment of relaxation. But just as the first tendrils of calm began to envelop her, a sharp interruption pierced through the air—the sound of the doorbell ringing.

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she rose from the couch. "Our pizza is here!"

Light steps carried her to the door as her stomach grumbled in anticipation, the scent of cheesy goodness already wafting through her imagination. She slowly wrapped her hand around the doorknob and swung the door open, but instead of being greeted by the delivery guy clad in his familiar uniform, the last person she thought would be on the other side of her door stood right in front of her.

Her eyes widened, capturing the shock that rendered her momentarily speechless. Time seemed to slow as her heart raced with caution while she attempted to process on what was happening.

What were the chances of seeing him again right at the moment when she had her friend coming over just so she could rant about the guy?

It was as if the universe was playing a trick on her, presenting a twist she could never have anticipated. As the seconds ticked by, she then finally found her voice, a mix of caution and confusion lacing her words as she muttered, "You're not the delivery guy."

"I'm not," Spencer—god, she still couldn’t believe he was here—responded, his eyes scanning along her features. "Sorry to disappoint you."

There was a fleeting moment where their gaze met, an unspoken wariness passing between them. The memory of their last meeting surfaced with a wave of tension that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She watched as his expression shifted, the space between them seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

Then a throat being cleared cut through the silence, a soft disruption that broke the spell of their locked eyes. Startled, her gaze broke away from his, shifting to the source of the interruption. And there, standing beside him was another figure—a woman she hadn't noticed until that very moment.

Recognition flashed in her eyes as she glanced at the familiar face, recalling the blonde-haired lady as one of the agents she met at the bureau the other day. Agent... Jareau, was it?

Yes, that was definitely her name. She was one of the few agents who actually treated her without judgment, checking in on her from time to time, which was why she focused her attention on her instead.

"Agent Jareau, what brings you here?"

"Sorry to barge in this late," she replied with an apologetic smile. "But we'd like to have a few words with you."

"It's fine." Y/n stepped aside and pulled the door wider. "Do you want to come in?"

"No, it's alright, we'll be quick—"

"Yes."

Her gaze turned back to the other man and narrowed her eyes.

"I think it’s better to have this conversation inside."

She studied him for a moment before nodding, letting the two agents step inside her home. There was a clatter coming from the kitchen as she closed the door before walking down the hallway, expecting them to follow behind. "We can talk in the living room but—"

"We're putting you on protection."

She abruptly turned on her heels. "What?"

Agent Jareau sent a disapproving look towards Spencer as if trying to say this was not how they usually handle things in this situation. The woman turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile before explaining, "We've been investigating the situation thoroughly, and it appears that the Unsub we're dealing with might have developed an unhealthy obsession with you."

Her heart slowly raced, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through her veins as the words finally sink in. "Obsession?” Her brows furrowed deeper. “What do you mean?"

"As you may know, all of the victims were related to you in one way or another, where you received some kind of mistreatment by them all. We believe the Unsub might be doing this out of his way to protect you."

She felt a knot tightening in her stomach, a growing sense of vulnerability she had never experienced before. "P-Protect me? But why?"

Agent Jareau's expression softened as she continued, "We're still working to understand the motives behind their actions. But given the escalating behavior and the potential danger it poses, we've decided it's best to put you under protection."

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "Protection? Like... witness protection?"

Spencer, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Something similar. We're proposing a protective measure—having an officer discreetly follow you during your daily routine."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You want me to be followed?"

Agent Jareau interjected, "It's for your own safety. We believe that having an officer close by could deter any potential threat and give us a better chance of identifying the Unsub."

Her mind raced as she considered the implications. "But how will I know? Will the officer be obvious?"

"Officer Anderson is currently outside in a separate car. He's trained to blend in while keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings."

"I..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Will he be there all the time?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, but we'll do our best to be inconspicuous. You won't even know he's there most of the time."

The idea of having an undercover officer tailing her sent a mixture of emotions coursing through her veins. Safety, yes, but also an unsettling feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, it is."

Her thoughts suddenly spun like a whirlwind, torn between disbelief and grim realization. She had always taken her daily routines for granted, the simple act of going to work or meeting friends devoid of apprehension. Now, each step she took seemed laden with an invisible weight, as if unseen eyes were tracking her every movement.

And to top it all, was she actually the sole reason behind these murders? She wasn't exactly the one acting out these gruesome crimes, yet it might as well happened because of her. Who could harbor such an unhealthy fixation on her? What had she done to attract this unwanted attention?

The unanswered mysteries gnawed at her.

Agent Jareau reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she read the familiar look in her eyes, it was the same look whenever a witness was starting to blame themselves. "This isn't your fault, we're here to support you through this. Your safety is our priority.”

With a deep breath, she nodded, silently accepting the protection they offered. The blonde-haired woman then gestured for her to open the door, which she did, and pointed towards a car parked a few blocks away with its window down, revealing a normal-looking guy sitting behind the wheel.

"That's Officer Anderson, he'll be trailing behind you at a safe distance. You won't even notice he's there."

The officer caught them staring and lifted his hand, a gesture of his greeting. Y/n waved back at him. "Great, I've always wanted a personal bodyguard."

Unfortunately, none of the two agents standing beside her caught the sarcasm in her voice. Agent Jareau turned back to her. "You have our number, right? You can call us anytime if you need assistance."

She did have her number, she also had Agent Prentiss' number who constantly assured her to call if she ever found anything new that could help with the investigation. But surprisingly, out of all the agents she met, the one agent she didn't have their number was the one she had been sleeping with all along.

Not that she was ever going to call him. She simply nodded out of politeness, and as she did, she could feel watchful eyes staring at her intently. Agent Jareau's keen eyes also caught the subtle interaction unfolding before her. She caught the way Spencer's gaze fixed with unwavering intensity on Y/n, who seemed determinedly oblivious to the weight of his stare, or rather, she was purposefully attempting to ignore his scrutiny.

Sensing the tension in the air, she took a step back, offering a fleeting glance to Spencer before turning to leave. "I'll wait in the car."

Her footsteps softly echoed in the night as she disappeared, and Y/n wasn't sure whether being left with him was a good idea.

She could feel the subtle shifts of his movements, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, as they stood just inches apart. She could also feel the warmth radiating from his body, a tantalizing contrast to the cool breeze that brushed against her skin.

"You okay?"

The air felt charged with tension as he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and sincerity.

"It's safe to say I'm far from being okay," she decided to say.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers curling and then relaxing by his sides. His lips parted slightly as if he were on the cusp of forming the words he had carried within him for so long. His gaze, intense yet searching, traced the contours of her face as if trying to find the right entry point into a conversation that had been left untouched.

And then he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She finally dragged her gaze on him with an expression that betrayed little emotion. "Are you sorry because a serial killer out there has an unhealthy obsession with me or are you sorry about your misconception of me?"

"Both." He seemed to search her eyes for a reaction, his uncertainty palpable. "But you must understand I was doing my job, it was never my intention to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," she answered, her gaze dropping momentarily before returning to meet his. "Whether it was intentional or not."

He seemed to struggle for words, a mix of emotions playing across his features "I know. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining impassive. After hearing the new update on the case and how much she was actually involved, she wasn’t in the mood to be having a serious conversation.

"It's getting late,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “You should probably leave."

Spencer let out a sigh. "Listen, I—"

"It’s getting late,” she repeated, her voice sounding severe. “We can have this conversation another time.”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his remorse heavy on his chest. He had hoped for a reaction, a sign that his apology had made a difference. Instead, her indifference left him feeling adrift, as if it was a barrier that he couldn't breach, a shield that rendered his efforts to make amends ineffective.

There was nothing else he could do as she turned to face him fully again, her eyes meeting his with a calm finality.

"Good night, Dr. Reid."

He reluctantly took a step back.

"Good night," he murmured.

Then with a nod, he slowly turned away, leaving her standing there all alone. Her gaze remained fixed on his receding figure, his form gradually blending into the night.

Doubt suddenly gnawed at the edges of her consciousness—Had she made the right choice? Was her choice to distance herself a shield to guard against potential heartache, or was it a missed opportunity to rebuild what had been lost?

She shook her head and went back inside, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. It wasn't until she heard footsteps emerging from the kitchen that she realized Sandy was still here.

"What was that all about?"

Y/n glanced at her friend. The two freshly filled glasses in her hands were calling out to her and drowning herself in heaps amount of alcohol seemed like a good idea, even when she was probably going to regret it tomorrow morning. But she needed to feel numb by all of these emotions.

She watched as Sandy offered her a glass, waiting for her reply. There were a lot of things she could answer with, but the only matter that stood out to her was the new revelation on her involvement on the case. So she took the glass from her and pressed her lips around the rim as her mind drifted toward the disguised officer sitting right outside her house.

There was no other way than to explain it as it was.

"I think I might be in danger."

>> NEXT PART

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Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[iamnmbr3]

As a massive Drarry fan myself I just want to know your reasons for loving them? <3

To some extent I think it's the "I just think they're neat" meme. On a certain level, it's hard to define why I like anything. I just do, ya know? But yeah I love their characters and the complexity of their relationship and how it deepens both their arcs.

I love how they have been part of each other's lives since day 1, each one's story divergent from the other's and yet inextricably linked. Draco is present for/involved with so many pivotal moments for Harry - becoming a seeker, successfully conjuring a Patronus for the first time, learning he is a Parselmouth, learning Expelliarmus, using Sectum Sempra, gaining the Hawthorn wand and consequently defeating Voldemort etc. And many many more.

Similarly Harry is indirectly the cause of the Malfoy family's downfall, the only person Draco willingly tries to use an Unforgivable on, the only living person to witness Draco's hesitation on the Astronomy Tower, the cause of Draco's courageous decision at the Manor to lie to Voldemort, and the center of Draco's whole life for 5 books. I mean really - everything Draco does in books 1-5 is just summarized as: "Draco Malfoy and How Do I Get Potter to Pay Attention to Me?" Everything from spying on Hagrid's illegal pet dragon to going after the hippogriff to joining the Inquisitorial Squad centers around Harry.

Their stories are inextricably linked in so many ways - both petty and profound. And for all that they are in one sense enemies (first rivals at school and then soldiers on opposite sides of a war) they can never bring themselves to hate or even distrust each other like you'd expect. Whenever one is actually in trouble they always save each other immediately and without question. In book 6 Draco sends the other Slytherins away before confronting Harry and turns his back on Harry to get his wand, safe in the knowledge that Harry will not attack him, or if he does, it won't be that bad and then when Harry finds himself totally at Draco's mercy a moment later he doesn't for a minute fear that Draco will kill him or turn him over to Voldemort or even seriously hurt him. I can't imagine Harry reacting this way if he was in a similarly helpless position around Lucius or Pettigrew or Bellatrix or any other Death Eater.

And they also understand each other so deeply. Harry immediately can tell when something is off with Draco - in book 6 as well as in earlier books. Draco never for a moment believes that Harry is the Heir of Slytherin even when the whole school thinks he is and understands that Harry hates his fame (while even Ron sometimes struggles to accept this).

I am fascinated and compelled by how they circle each other and are enemies who can't quite hate each other and who are inexorably drawn to each other, how they understand each other so deeply and so intuitively, how their wit and personalities and abilities are so complimentary and so compatible, and how their stories connect but also diverge. There's so much potential there and it just feels so right to me. Plus, hilariously, JKR accidentally made it outrageously canon. Draco and Harry's fascination with each other is a major part of their characters and their stories which really can't be ignored or removed.

[pollymorgan]

Ex-husband Negan Part 1

Warnings: Negan is a total asshole, but hot!

When I first saw Negan, almost exactly 29 years ago, I had no idea what important role he would play in my life. I was just a naive girl, instantly infatuated with this rebellious, outspoken, handsome motorcyclist who didn't follow any rules and did his own thing. Just a few days after that first meeting, he became my first serious boyfriend.

Love is blind, they say, and that certainly applied to me. I put up with all his mistakes, lies, and escapades for three whole years until I finally had enough and ended things. The pain and disappointment overshadowed my life for a long time. But if you think you learn from your mistakes, then you don't know me. When I was in my late twenties, this guy had drawn me back in and even convinced me to marry him.

Had he changed? Not at all! Despite his constant assurances. But maybe he simply can't help it. Negan remains Negan. In the cursed seventh year, I couldn't take it anymore and filed for divorce. Not because I didn't love him anymore, in fact quite the opposite, but the disappointments were just too much to bear.

Despite everything, he had given me the most precious and wonderful gift in my - our life. Our two babies. Gracie and Lizzie. And that fact alone will probably never truly separate us.

The two of them are no longer little, though, but 11 and 17 years old. And my ex-husband is the best father i could imagine. It seems like he wants to make up for all the mistakes he made with me through them.

They love their father more than anything, and that alone makes me incredibly happy. That's why I can't hate him, even though I have pretty good reasons to.

Just now, the three of them spent the last weeks of summer vacation in a cabin in the mountains. The fact that my media-crazed girls wanted to spend their free time fishing, swimming, and hiking, all without cell phone reception, fascinated me immensely. They probably would have thought I was crazy if I had made that suggestion to them.

It was strange not having my daughters in the house, but I also enjoyed the peace a little. It had been quiet around me for a long time.

My new partner, an architect from the office where I work, and I had been arguing more and more in recent months. Last week, it even escalated to the point where he moved into a hotel. Fortunately, Gracie and Lizzie weren't home.

I wanted this relationship to work so badly, but apparently it was doomed to fail. Steve is the complete opposite of Negan - calm, down-to-earth, perhaps even a bit boring, but I thought that after everything I had been through, that's exactly what I needed.

Ironically, what I constantly accuse Negan of, that he can never maintain a long-term relationship, unfortunately seems to apply to me as well.

But today, I tried to push my worries aside because my daughters were returning from their vacation, and I was looking forward to being able to hold them in my arms again after two weeks.

I was just about to put their favorite casserole in the oven when my phone rang.

"Gracie, my darling!" I almost shouted into the receiver.

"Hello Mom, we're on our way back now!" she replied.

"When will you be here? ... Dinner won't be ready for another hour.."

"Dad, how much longer do we have to drive?" I heard her ask.

When I heard Negan's response faintly in the background, my expression hardened and I looked at the clock in shock.

"Another 5 hours???" I asked incredulously.

It was almost 6 PM and school started tomorrow. Negan had promised me that they would be back in time for dinner.

"Sweetheart, can you please give me your father on the phone..." I spoke as calmly as I could into the receiver, and Gracie immediately handed the phone over.

"Hello, my beautiful..." he said with his unmistakable, deep voice that still gave me goosebumps after all these years.

At his words, I couldn't help but smile, even though I wasn't really in the mood for it.

"Negan, damn it, you promised to be back for dinner, the kids have to go back to school early tomorrow morning.." I said seriously.

I heard an irritated grunt from him, then he replied, "I didn't know that you bourgeois have dinner promptly at 6, but now seriously... our girls wanted to see a waterfall, and you know I can't deny them any wishes. I'll bring them home safely, I promise."

"I know..." I whispered into the receiver and then emphasized louder, "...but that's not the point!"

After the call, I turned off the oven in exasperation and sat down in front of the TV with a glass of red wine, trying to distract myself with some silly soap opera to prevent my anger from escalating even further, but it wasn't really working.

"It's okay, nothing happened, they're just coming home a bit later," I tried to reassure myself, cursing Negan inwardly. He broke every promise he made to me with such ease.

The hands of the clock seemed to stand still, or at least that's how it felt to me. Time passed agonizingly slowly. I started preparing everything for Lizzie's school day tomorrow. She would be so tired in the morning, and I already felt sorry for her.

By 10 PM, I was standing by the window, staring out into the dark night, while the table was set and dinner was ready. After what felt like an eternity, the car finally pulled up with my family.

My two girls jumped out of the car beaming with joy, and that dashed any hope I had that they might have slept a little during the drive.

I immediately opened the front door, and Lizzie ran into my arms.

"Mama, I caught the biggest fish of all..." she shouted from a distance.

"That's amazing, did you have a lot of fun?" I asked her, holding her tightly in my arms, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair.

"It was the coolest vacation ever!!!" she said convincingly and then rushed into the house. My eldest approached me more slowly, but she too had a big grin on her face. Gracie had inherited her father's smile and knew exactly how to get away with everything with me. She had to use it quite often, considering she also inherited Negan's temper. I pulled her into my arms as well and was once again taken aback by how grown she had become. There wasn't much left of my little girl; she already seemed so mature.

"It was really cool, Mom," she said coolly.

Then my gaze fell on Negan. Damn, after all these years, just seeing him made my heart beat faster. With my arms crossed, I tried to glare at him as menacingly as possible, but he just smiled and planted a way too long kiss on my cheek.

The smell of his aftershave and the feeling of his lips on my skin took my breath away for a few seconds. I quickly composed myself and swallowed hard.

As he tried to enter the house as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I stood provocatively in his way.

"Thanks, Negan! Have a good night, get home safely..." I said.

Lizzie came running back immediately. You could hear her running on the parquet floor from a distance.

"Can't Dad eat with us?" she asked, completely excited.

"It's already late, my dear..." I replied firmly, ruffling her hair, but not breaking eye contact with Negan.

"Is Stevieboy projecting his jealousy again, or why can't I even take a damn step into my family's house?" he asked, slightly amused.

Shocked, I looked at him. I was used to his remarks, but claiming something like that in front of our youngest daughter shocked even me.

"My husband isn't here... he's on a business trip!" I lied.

"Husband? If anything, he's more like your friend, or rather your companion for this phase of life..." Negan corrected me provocatively, underlining his statement with another grin.

Gracie returned to the door as well. "Dad drove forever, can't we eat together at least? We can show you some really cool pictures. Dad bought us a really awesome DSLR camera..."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from commenting on his unnecessary expenses. How many times had we argued about his inability to handle money in the past? But unlike him, I didn't want to say such things in front of our children. So, I reluctantly stepped aside and gestured for him to come into the house.

During dinner, everyone was talking at once, sharing the wildest stories from their trip. Both my daughters definitely inherited their tendency to exaggerate their stories from their father. But just like him, they always made me laugh with their tales. So, I even shed a few tears of joy as they recounted every detail to me. I felt Negan watching me the whole time, when he wasn't putting on his black-rimmed glasses to find the right picture to match the current anecdote on his camera.

Mid-conversation, Gracie suddenly jumped up as her phone vibrated, "It's David finally...." She ran out of the room with a big smile on her face.

"We won't be seeing her tonight..." I stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of my eye that I had shed while laughing.

"Oh, David... that guy doesn't sit well with me at all..." Negan observed seriously, looking at me somewhat perplexed.

"May I remind you that our daughter hasn't been a little girl for a long time... she's 17!" I chuckled at the fact that it seemed to genuinely bother him.

"David is her boyfriend..." Lizzie chimed into the conversation.

"Sweets, promise me that at least you won't bring a boyfriend home, okay?" Negan addressed our youngest.

"That's nonsense, your mom was 16 when she met your dad... even a year younger than your sister now..." I explained to her.

"That's exactly why this whole thing worries me so much..." Negan cut me off, and as I looked at him, I couldn't help but think back to the night I lost my innocence to this guy. Everything was so perfect back then. I know not many women can say that about their first time. But even though we were both so young, Negan was so tender and considerate with me, yet so confident that he dispelled all my insecurities. And that night was just the beginning of many more, even better... Lost in thought, I bit my lip until Lizzie's words snapped me out of my reverie.

"Can Daddy tuck me in, pleeease...?" she asked.

Smiling, I kissed her forehead. "Yes, of course..."

After everyone had gone upstairs, I started clearing the table, taking my time. I slowly washed the large casserole dish and then loaded the rest into the dishwasher.

"Is anyone checking out this perfect ass?!"

Negan's voice made me jump. I hadn't heard him approach, and as I turned to face him, he was pouring two glasses of red wine as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I had to process the shock for a moment, then I made a dismissive gesture with my hands as he approached me.

"You should leave, it's late... way too late..." I said as convincingly as I could.

The tall man stopped right in front of me and wordlessly handed me one of the glasses. I knew the sparkle in his hazel eyes all too well, and it made my knees weak.

For a while, he just looked into my eyes, then he gently caressed my bare upper arm with his fingertips. Goosebumps formed where he touched me tenderly.

"You were thinking about our first time earlier, weren't you? I could see it in your beautiful eyes..." he whispered softly, while his gaze roamed unabashedly over my body.

I swallowed hard and then looked at him feigning surprise. "No, I don't know what you're talking about..." Why could he still read me like an open book after all this time?

Instead of protesting, he smiled knowingly.

I needed to get away! Away from this situation that always led to the same thing. Determined, I took a big sip of wine and went straight to the small table in the other corner of the kitchen. I needed to create as much space between us as possible to be able to think a bit clearer.

I had left my cigarettes there earlier when I smoked one on the terrace while waiting. Now I took one out of the pack and lit it, leaning against one of the stools.

Steve had strictly forbidden smoking in the house, he didn't like it at all when I did, so I usually smoked secretly behind the shed in the garden. But right now, I didn't care. Steve wasn't here, only Negan, trying to ensnare me in his web once again, as he had done hundreds of times before.

"What's all this about, Negan? Do you need that reassurance to be able to get me into bed?" I asked directly.

Surprised, he looked at me, "Who's talking about me trying to get you into bed? You have quite the wild imagination, that's what I've always loved about you. ... That you were thinking about back then earlier was just an observation, my dear..."

Once again, he came directly towards me. I felt like prey caught in a trap. When he stood in front of me, I automatically spread my legs slightly so he could squeeze between them. I looked up at him, and without breaking eye contact, he took the cigarette from my hand, took a deep drag, and then tossed the rest into the last gulp of his red wine, causing a brief sizzling sound. Only a moment later did he exhale the smoke.

"Damn, you just keep getting more beautiful," he whispered, taking my chin between his fingers.

As often before, I just let it happen. Then he gently stroked my lips with his thumbs, and I tasted his slightly rough skin. It sent little jolts directly to my core, making me nervously shift back and forth on my stool.

"Do you often think about how it feels when I touch you, my sweet? What it's like when my lips explore this perfect body..." he asked in a deep voice, and I could only nod slightly. But then I tried to gather myself again. Gently, but firmly, I pushed his hand away from me and then said, "But it won't happen again, Negan. I can't make the same mistake over and over again..."

[misfithive]

What I think Simon likes about Wille

I have seen some discussions about “why Simon even like Wille” (😔☹️💔) both here and elsewhere. I'm bored sooooo here is my list of what I think! I admit when I first watched I used to wonder sometimes why Simon liked him, mostly bc the back and forth hot and cold of season 1 could understandably be exhausting however once i thought about it I came up with many things. (some are hc ish ) :) I also think that if you love wilmon's relationship then you can see what they see in eachother. Two people (Wilmon) created that dynamic together both of them are loving/open/gentle with each other it is deeper than " i like that he sings and he is pretty"- they like how the other person makes them feel which is different I think than what is usually portrayed in teen relationships. People focus too much on their fights/angst sometimes and not their nice moments I think the good outweighs the bad. Also why i believe in endgame bc they have something deep and special.

1. I think Simon thinks Wille is adorable in a dorky way or finds him endearing. When Wille dropped the utensil after their first real convo Simon was blushing and giggling

2. Wille actively seeks him out a lot and tries to help Simon when he can/ When someone is giving you that kind of attention it is flattering and shows how kind Wille is (the tip about tutoring, the rowing tips, the song on the piano). Thats a quality someone would find attractive

3. Similarly when they are together Wille’s attention and energy is solely focused on him / Wille smiling at him adoringly all the time. I think that would make anyone feel special and especially if you are like Simon and spend a lot of energy caring for/thinking about other people

4. Wille is generally very gentle with Simon which is beautiful and also imagine someone being that gentle with u and holding u like that im sure u would fall in love too lmfao even tho simon is asleep I think he felt it and this isnt the only example I just like the picture hehe

5. Wille wears his heart on his sleeve. Simon is more guarded with his feelings i think he could drawn to how open/expressive/ softhearted Wille is with him. “I didn't want to lose you” “you are beautiful” etc

6. Wille makes him sandwiches asks him how he is doing a lot etc sorry but no boys were making me sandwiches as a teenager a lot of small things like this are still a big deal

7. Wille is a prince and he could be a total arrogant a** hole like everyone else at that school and no one would think twice but he is not. It takes a certain type of person to actively not be like that when u are born into that level of privilege and everyone will let you get away with whatever. I think Simon likes that Wille is different than than the other people at school who ignore him and treat him bad.

8. Simon feels safe around Wille (maybe with the exception of the music room scene) but they have a safe space together its a strong contrast to the dynamic with marcus and i think everything with marcus serves to highlight how special the dynamic is with Wille.

9. Wille gives good hugs

10. Wille is nice to Linda and tries to make her feel included Simon thought that was cute (it was very cute)

11. They can laugh together and see how silly (ridiculous) august/some of the antics of the other boys are

12. I could go on okay but love is not always rational and cant be contained in a list, they are soulmates and thats that!!!!!!!!!

//Adding that i think Omar said in an interview that despite what Simon says in the locker room he thinks Simon likes that Wille accepts him for who he is. But if anyone can find the clip pls share I dont wanna misquote him! //

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 5)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Harry and Y/N spend the weekend together in Chicago

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4

Word Count: 3.8k

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“So, what are we going to see in the city?” You ask Harry. You’re both on the couch eating fruit, since Harry insisted you needed some sort of snack to hold you over until lunch.

“Well, first, we should swing by your hotel. Figured you might want to get changed,” he replies. You laugh and nod in agreement. While you wouldn’t mind living in Harry’s comfy clothes doused in his scent, you know that going in public, with him, wearing his clothes, is admittedly a terrible idea.

“Then obviously some lunch,” he continues. “And after that, I have no idea. Maybe see where the day takes us?”

“I like that plan,” you answer. Normally you like to have everything totally scheduled out, but you’re excited to see what experiences might happen naturally.

“We can keep your things in the car while we’re out and stop back here to drop them off on our way to the arena later,” he adds.

“Am I staying here tonight?” You inquire.

He pauses, trying to find the right words. “I would like for you to stay,” he finally says. “It’s just, you’re only hours out of a drop. And you said that hasn’t happened for a long time. I would like you to stay close to me in case something happens. And uhm, my alpha is fairly attached to your omega at the moment.” Harry blushes and his eyes look down at his fingers as he finishes his sentence.

“Harry?” you say, and his gaze meets yours. “I’d love to stay.”

His anxious face instantly morphs into one of excitement and he says, “Fantastic! Okay, I’m going to call a car to take us to your hotel and we can start our adventure.”

“It’s only a couple of blocks, we could walk it.”

At this he seems nervous again and he quickly explains, “It’s probably best if we drive. We’ll be more under the radar that way, and I don’t necessarily want to be seen in public too much.”

“Oh, right, of course. That totally makes sense.” There’s an insecure part of your brain telling you that it’s because he doesn’t want to be seen with you, just some average nobody, but you tell that voice to shut up. Harry would never be so callous, so shallow. He simply wants his privacy.

A few minutes later you’re back in your quiet hotel room. Harry is waiting in the car, so you quickly get changed and freshen up. You spray on our scent blockers and are disappointed that you no longer smell like Harry. He put on blockers before leaving his hotel as well so now it will be hours before you’ll catch his scent again. If you’re lucky. You remind yourself this whole situation is temporary, and you should take what you get.

Your belongings are mostly packed so it only takes a minute to get everything together. When you reenter the car you let out the breath you’d been holding while separated from Harry. You admit to yourself you are still feeling the effects of the drop, and you allow yourself to revel in the presence of an alpha. Normally the idea that you need to rely on an alpha for anything would make you mad, but not right now. Not when that alpha greets you with a shy smile as you slide into your seat next to him. And especially not when that alpha reaches over so your hands are resting close enough to just barely touch.

It's a bit of a drive to the restaurant Harry picked out, and you pass the time making small talk. You discuss your families, hobbies, favorite vacation spots, anything you can think of. Nothing is all that crazy or interesting, but Harry is locked in on every word you say. It makes you feel warm inside, having his full attention and knowing he truly wants to hear what you have to say.

Harry is so absorbed in the conversation that even he is surprised when the car stops outside the restaurant. He gets out, quickly moving around the car to open your door for you and lead you inside. The diner he’s chosen is lowkey, giving hole in the wall vibes, and you think it’s perfect.

It’s not empty, but the crowd there doesn’t bat an eye as you two walk in. A quick glance around the room shows that you’re the youngest people there by far. Everyone is engaged in conversation or reading the newspaper or a book they’ve brought with them. It makes you feel comfortable, relaxed, and you know you’re going to enjoy this lunch.

You’re seated together at a table towards the back, and a waiter comes over to take your drink orders. After he walks away it’s quiet for a moment, both you and Harry reading through the menu. He comes back a few minutes later to take your food orders. Once he leaves again you fold your hands on the table in front of you and look at Harry.

He’s sitting the same way, hands folded just inches from yours, and his eyes are already on you.

“So,” he hesitantly begins. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Like, of yours?”

He laughs before saying, “No, just, in general. But I am also curious what your favorite of mine is.”

You think for a moment, and you catch him chuckling and your very serious thinking face. “I guess all-time favorite song might be ‘Annie’s Song’ by John Denver. It was my parents’ wedding song, so we played it a lot at home. Makes me think of them.” You smile and think again for a moment before saying, “And my favorite song of yours, well, that’s harder to choose. I think maybe ‘Canyon Moon’. It’s just so fun, and upbeat. It’s the first one that really hooked me on your music.”

“That is a fun one, yeah. Kind of bummed it’s off the setlist if I’m honest. And I too love a little John Denver occasionally.”

The discussion on music lasts until your food is placed on the table. The delicious smell alerts you to how hungry you are, and you immediately dig in. Conversation stops again so the two of you can eat.

As Harry settles the bill (which you attempt to help pay for, but he quickly denies) he says, “We’ve got about an hour before we need to head back to the hotel and get ready. There’s a park nearby. What do you say about a little stroll?”

“That sounds perfect,” you reply.

He stays close to you as you walk the couple blocks to the park. His hand reaches out towards you multiple times but he pulls it back like he’s afraid to make contact. It keeps your mind spinning, wondering what’s he’s thinking when he does this. Is it an unconscious gesture? Is it a protective one? Does he just want to be touching you the way that you want to be touching him?

Once in the park he leads you to a bench by a small lake. The bushes grant you both some privacy from the few other people who are walking nearby.

“So,” he says timidly. “How are you feeling today? After the drop and everything.”

You take a moment to assess in order to answer truthfully. “Honestly, I feel pretty good right now. Like, better than I have in weeks. I think my omega really needed that break.”

“You said your meds lost their potency right? And that’s been going on for weeks then, at least since the first show you came to. How have you been coping with all of that? Do you nest at all?”

“I tried nesting in the past, but it never brought the peace people said it would. I guess cause most people are betas now so it’s harder to get alpha or other omega scents. And without those nests aren’t as comforting.”

“That has to be frustrating. I’m sorry it’s so difficult for omegas. I wish things were different for you guys, I truly do.”

“Thanks. Me too. Can I ask, why do you keep your alpha status a secret?”

“I guess because people have certain views of alphas. They think we’re mean and controlling and yea, a lot of alphas are these days. I just didn’t want people to judge me before getting to know me. Plus, some record labels and managers don’t want to work with alphas. Say they’re too unpredictable or difficult.”

“Seems like it’s tough for alphas too.”

“Yea, but at least we’re safe. No one tries to cross us or control us. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have your free will taken away by an alpha command.”

“It’s definitely not fun,” you say, shivering at the memory of being frozen and silenced just by a knothead alphas words.

Noticing your slight distress, Harry places his hand on your knee and says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up, I know you have bad memories with that.”

You’re instantly soothed by him, and you reach out to place your hand on top of his. You have no idea where the courage to touch him like that comes from, and you’re about to pull away when he flips his hand until your palms are touching and he’s able to intertwine his fingers with yours.

The sound of your purring is sudden and surprising. It’s not something that happens often, and you almost cut it off, but you see the smile that breaks out on Harry’s face. You sit there, holding hands, and purring softly. Neither of you tries to start a conversation, just enjoying the moment.

Harry’s phone ringing brings you both back to reality. His driver is on the line, reminding Harry that it’s time to head back in order to stay on schedule. He lets go of your hand as you leave the bench, and though you’re disappointed, you remind yourself of the media frenzy that would ensue if Harry was caught holding hands with a girl.

You’re especially soothed when he reaches out for your hand again once in the privacy of the car. Just like the earlier drive, you get to know each other better, this time discussing favorite books at length.

He insists on carrying your luggage into the hotel for you, and letting you have the first shower. You’re in the living room finishing your hair when Harry walks out of the bathroom, having finished his own shower. He’s wrapped in a towel, water dripping off his hair and down his chest. You pray that your suppressants still work well enough to at least prevent unwanted slick production. Because you would literally die of embarrassment if the telltale scent of honey filled the room.

“Sorry, so sorry, forgot to grab clothes,” he says as he dashes into the bedroom to grab an outfit from the dresser. He jogs back into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. You let out the breath you’ve been holding and quickly reel in your thoughts to ensure your face isn’t still beet red when he comes back out.

You force yourself to focus on perfecting your hair in an effort to erase the image of a practically naked Harry. Or at least, erase temporarily. While you’re in his presence. It works, because by the time he comes out again, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, you’ve fully contained your thoughts.

“Car will be here in five minutes, you almost ready?”

“Yup, just gotta grab my phone,” you say before walking back into the bedroom to get the phone from where it’s been charging. Harry’s scent is strongest here, likely because he’s been sleeping there for weeks, plus he was broadcasting his scent the night before during your drop. It’s so potent that you almost feel dizzy. You shake your head in an attempt to clear it, quickly get the phone, and rejoin Harry in the living room.

He's distracted during the drive over, checking updates on his phone that he’d been ignoring during the day. It’s hectic but organized at the venue. There’s so much to be done but it’s a well-oiled team and everyone does their job well. You hang out in Harry’s dressing room for the most part, wanting to be out of the way.

There’s a brief moment after Harry is ready and before he needs to go on stage, and you need to find your place in the crowd. You’re finally alone again, and the two of you are standing facing each other. He reaches out to hold both your hands between his and he says, “I have another question for you.”

You’ve been asking each other questions all day, most lighthearted, some serious. But you can tell by his tone that this may be the most important one yet.

You meet his eyes, encouraging him to go on, and after a moment of nervous hesitation he says, “I’ve really like spending time with you. I’ve known for awhile that my alpha had formed a connection with your omega, and I thought that’s where my feelings for you came from. But after today I know that I just like you. You’re funny, and smart, and beautiful. So, uhm, I was wondering, will you go on a date? With me?”

You’re speechless for a moment, so you nod your head yes while trying to process everything he just said.

“Can I take you out tomorrow morning for brunch?” He continues.

Finally, you find your voice and say, “Yes, Harry, that sounds perfect.”

The brightest, most boyish smile spreads across his face. Harry’s about to speak again but there’s a knock on the door and a voice telling him he needs to leave the room in one minute.

Harry quickly says, “Can I scent you? Before you go out there?” You again nod yes, knowing that he needs this, needs to protect you in this way even though you’ll be in a VIP section with plenty of security.

Plus, you’ve decided that you’d have to be insane to ever say no when he asks that question. One of his large hands cups the side of your neck while his nose moves to the scent gland on the opposite side. It slides against your skin, and you’re surrounded by his mouthwatering smell. He presses one gentle kiss directly near your mating spot before he pulls back, gives you one last dazzling smile, and walks out the door.

Jada walks in to find you still standing, dazed, in the middle of the room. “Need a minute?” she asks with a knowing smirk.

“Just, uhm, gonna use the…bathroom, real quick,” you stutter out before fleeing through the door to the attached restroom. You quickly take some deep breaths and grab toilet paper to clean up the slick that had escaped. Thankfully you’d held it in until Harry left, and Jada, being a beta, would be none the wiser. Still, you need to pull yourself together and get your desire under control before you embarrass yourself.

Once you’re ready she leads you to the VIP section. You feel amazing, completely opposite from the night prior and you know that you owe it all to Harry. Not once during the entire show do you feel dizzy, or anxious, or any of the negative emotions you’ve been feeling for weeks. Instead, you feel electric, especially during the handful of moments when Harry’s eyes find yours in the crowd, sharing a special look with you.

You’re screaming along with all the other fans as Harry runs out of the venue. Jada then leads you out to the car the two of you will be taking back to the hotel. The ten-minute drive turns into almost thirty with all the post-concert traffic.

Back at the hotel, you knock on the door to Harry’s room. Technically it’s also yours now, and yes, you do have a key, but it still feels weird just walking in while you know he’s there. It takes a moment but finally he’s opening the door for you. As you take in his appearance, you realize you made the right decision to knock. His hair is, once again, wet, he has pajama pants on and is quickly throwing on a shirt. Obviously he’s just showered again, and you know you would not have survived seeing him with any less clothes on.

“There you are,” he says, smiling and pulling you in for a hug as the door closes behind you. For a moment you’re surprised, but quickly melt into the embrace.

Before pulling away he says, “Why don’t you change into some comfy clothes, and we can put on a movie.” You head to the bedroom, grabbing your own set of pajamas before changing and washing your face. Once you feel clean and comfortable you join Harry in the living room.

He’s already laid out blankets on the couch and pulled up the latest Rom Com on the TV. After confirming that you want to watch it, he presses play and you snuggle under your blanket.

You try to pay attention to the movie, truly, you do. But Harry’s right there, sitting next to you, looking perfectly cozy and domestic, not a single scent blocker covering the delicious smell that’s started to feel like home to you.

It’s not surprising when you start to subconsciously shift closer and closer to him. He notices the small movements, and without hesitation, wraps and arm around you and pulls you close to him. He adjusts the blankets so that you’re tucked in before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

Feeling safer and more content than you have in possibly your entire adult life, you fully relax. The next thing you know, you’re being gently placed into the bed. Sensing that you’re awake, Harry smooths down your hair and says, “Get some sleep, love,” as he pulls the covers over you.

***

Waking up with Harry’s arm slung around your middle is unexpected, but entirely welcomed. Everything feels so warm, so safe. His arm unconsciously tightens around you, and you snuggle deeper into the embrace.

It isn’t long before Harry wakes up, stretching out beside you and saying, “good morning.” His husky morning voice has you practically melting, but you still manage a “good morning” in reply.

Neither of you move for a while, choosing to lay there holding each other for as long as possible. It’s nice, once again feels rather domestic, and you have to stop yourself from imagining this happening every day. Your mating spot practically tingles at the thought of you and Harry bonded to each other, raising pups together in your home.

An alarm rings on Harry’s phone, thankfully stopping your daydream from getting too out of control. You take turns getting ready before heading to the car for your first official date.

Brunch is absolutely perfect. Harry had booked a private room to ensure fans and paparazzi wouldn’t be able to spy on your date. He steps away to use the restroom at one point, and you think about how it’s going so far. It’s just like any first date you’ve ever been on; better even.

It’s almost easy to forget that he’s this world-famous popstar. When it’s the two of you together, focusing on each other, he really just becomes the man of your dreams. The fact that he’s a respectful and gentle alpha is the icing on the cake.

After brunch you head back to the hotel to repack your bags before flying home. Harry watches sadly as you prepare to leave him. You ignore your own feelings for the moment, not wanting to cry in front of him. But truthfully, the fact that you have no idea when you’ll see him again is borderline devastating.

Once you’re packed and ready to go, Harry pulls you in for a hug. You stand there holding each other for a minute before he pulls back. You look up at his face, mere inches from yours, and note how his eyes are looking between your own eyes and your lips. His hands slide up your arms, your neck, until they’re cupping your face. He leans in and presses one simple kiss to your lips.

His eyes meet yours again, silently asking if that was alright. You can’t help but lean back in, giving him a couple kisses of your own.

It doesn’t go any further, and that alone brings you some peace. He’s not just doing this all to get into your pants the way many alphas would. Honestly, this whole weekend with him feels more like puppy love than anything.

 “Would it be alright if I scented you before you left?” Harry asks before adding “Since you’ll be at the crowded airport and everything, it might be safer if you smelled like you have an alpha.”

Some omegas might find this controlling, overwhelming, overprotective, but you know that’s not his intention at all. So you agree, and close your eyes as he leans in to scent you once more. It’s electric having him so close to you. It takes all your self-control to hold back a needy whine when he presses a kiss to your scent gland.  

“One more thing,” he says after pulling away. You watch in confusion as he walks back into the bedroom. He comes back out a minute later holding his green Pleasing sweatshirt. He hands it to you, and you can immediately tell he’d scented that as well. Without hesitation you slip in on, catching the satisfied smirk on his face as you do so.

You get a text from Jada letting you know a car is there to take you to the airport. Harry pulls you in for one last kiss, and having to leave his embrace is nearly physically painful for you. After saying a final, quiet goodbye, you grab your bag and walk out of the room.

All the stress of traveling seems miniscule compared to separating from the man who is quickly becoming one of your favorite people, not to mention is the alpha your omega seems to crave.

You arrive home pretty late that evening. The last thing you want to do is wash away Harry’s scent, but you desperately need a shower after an afternoon of travel. Thankfully you have his sweatshirt to burrow into.

You sleep peacefully that night, still surrounded by Harry’s scent, knowing the last text you received before bed was a message from Harry saying, “Sleep tight, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

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

AN: Thank you so much for reading! So sorry for the long delay between chapters! Hoping to get the next chapter out much sooner!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp @ottawaoutlander @storyschanging

[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.