#miraculously I haven’t received even one anon about it which.. good

[dreamings-free]

.

[pinkcatharsis]

I dunno if I should legit continue this because I can’t remember where I was going with it. Read a prompt at @sloaners anon or a comment in one of their posts (fantastic art btw go check it out!) about Tsunade adopting a bb Tenzou and well. I wrote this and it’s unfinished and yeah.

I actually don’t even have a title for it. Was supposed to be an eventual YamaIru, too. Oh well!

—

Names have power, they say.

Tenzou can agree to a certain point because his experience from his missions, his targets, countless reconnaissance on high profile politicians has proven that people tend to cower from the syllables of a name if they are a threat.

Names carry prestige more than an identity.Names give history, are the pillars for legacy provided it is a name the people can accept. More often than not, it is a vessel for fear, control

They’re also a convenient excuse for people to either sing with high praise or forget because the truth is always a pill too hard to swallow.

Sometimes it lies ignored despite its great sacrifice to stop a rampaging monster, when the womb still bleeds fresh and a goodbye too soon falls from crimson lips. It is ignored because it is easier to hate someone helpless than to acknowledge a name that saved everyone.

Sometimes it is indifferent, distant, as cold as the unreadable, white irises of its clansmen.

Sometimes it lies abandoned, walls cracking, dust collecting over blood stained tatami mats where the weight of shame fueled enough strength to slice through flesh. Shame because of a choice to save one’s comrades as opposed to prioritising the mission.

Sometimes it is soaking in blood, whispers of its massacre echoing loud, and towards the end of it, the word traitor.

And sometimes, they’re just old, only remembered through history that is a core subject within the Academy walls, a prerequisite in terms of knowledge for every Konoha shinobi. They’re faded, scattered, heirless, visually only present through the carvings of stone that towers over the village.

Tenzou is conditioned to not pay any heed to something as trivial as a name. Not when he’s been conditioned, trained extremely well, that the only thing that matters is servitude to the village. That the name Konoha is the only thing of true value.

Greater people have sacrificed themselves for the good of village and now, their heir wanders Konoha’s walls shunned, sneered, hated, ignored. Their names hardly mattered in the present -- it’s like the Yellow Flash only exists as a tier to be achieved in terms of talent, hard work and mission success and nothing else. As if the man behind the legacy hardly existed.

Legacy means nothing, Tenzou realizes, in the grand scheme of things.

When you die, you just die.

It’s okay to die nameless.

*

Tenzou hears about Tsunade’s arrival tucked behind the cover of an open locker door. Apparently, Tsunade-hime is in the village for a visit. And like always, she has spent her first day sitting with her former sensei, having tea until she had flung the table across the room, out the window in a fit of uncontrolled, roiling rage.

“I think it’s because sandaime is asking her to stay,” one fellow ANBU says.

“No, it’s got something to do with her gambling debt for sure,” another says.

“Monkey says it has something to do with the council pressuring her to produce an heir,” a softer voice says.

“I thought she couldn’t?”

“Or she doesn’t want to?”

The conversation explodes, only coming to a sudden stop when the sound of a door opening puts a halt on the outright gossip that Tenzou shamefully has been eavesdropping on. Someone dares throw a table out the window in front of the Hokage? And the Hokage does nothing? Tenzou thinks back to Danzou an Root -- if any of them dared show such insubordination, that would mean at least half a day’s worth of lashings under the scorching sun and then dry fasting isolation for thirty-six hours. Not many tend to survive that but that would just mean they’re too weak to remain in Root, anyway.

“Don’t you guys have better things to do?” Kakashi’s voice cuts through with a drawl. It is followed by a series of locker doors shutting, rapid shuffling and then silence. “Oi, Tenzou. The Hokage needs you.”

Tenzou straightens, tugging his clean armor on and running a comb through his damp hair. He slams his locker shut and gives his senpai a wordless nod, acknowledging the summon.

*

A summon that suddenly renders him not so nameless anymore.

Tsunade is a towering figure, heals almost five inches high, back straight, eyebrows narrowed, hands on her hip and staring down at him like he’s a two year old.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” Tenzou responds, keeping perfectly still. He isn’t intimidated by Tsunade’s persona. He’s just feeling a little too awkward because if Tsunade leaned any closer to examine him, her breasts would be ten centimeters too close to his face to be called professional, let alone proper.

“You are awfully small for a fourteen year old,” Tsunade tartly says, almost disappointed.

“I am a hundred and twenty nine and a half centimeters,” Tenzou agrees, well aware of how stunted his growth is. Danzou always factored his slow growth to the radiation and chemical exposure, a side effect to the experimentation Tenzou miraculously survived. But small doesn’t mean weak, Danzou had said, one of the few times he had been encouraging.

“Do you even eat, boy?” Tsunade scoffs.

“Yes. Five meals a day when I am in the village, continuously supplemented by calorically dense ration bars that Danzou-sama advised to--”

“Hah! Which one -- the one that tastes like sweet wet newspaper or the one that tastes like mouldy bread?” Tsunade snorts.

Tenzou finds himself stammering a little, glancing a little cluelessly at the Sandaime who is taking a very, very long drag from his pipe. Tenzou’s mouth quickly clamps shut before he can voice out his confusion. He can’t honestly say he knows what mouldy bread tastes like nor can he say he’s actually tried eating wet newspaper, let alone a sweetened one. So he goes with what he thinks is the correct response to this kind of inquiry. “The N-4150?”

“Sweet, wet newspaper. At least that old fart chose the better formula.” Tsunade rolls her eyes before taking - thank heavens - a proper step back.

Tenzou blinks once, altering between Tsunade now very put-upon expression and the Sandaime who is standing there as if he were part of the book shelf. “Hokage-sama, should I not continue consuming the N-4150?”

Sandaime rumbles an amused noise, blowing out a slow stream of tobacco smoke before he stands, rounding the table. “Why don’t you demonstrate your Mokuton skills for Tsunade, Tenzou? After all, that is the reason you were summoned here.”

It gets another eyeroll, with a bit of a scoff from Tsunade, who crosses her arms under her breasts.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou acknowledges.

He puts his hands together, channels just enough chakra and forms a small pot in his hands, slowly filling it with roots coiling until it sprouts green leaves, topped with large, black centered white poppies.

“Oh, white poppies,” Sandaime smiles, his face wrinkling. “An interesting choice. You see, Tsunade, Tenzou here has been studying botany for a year now. He’s a bit of an artist with his gardening. Tenzou, didn’t you recently start studying architecture as well?”

“I have only started reading some reference books three months ago, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou responds, with a bit of a nod, as his fingers tightens a little bit around the pot in his hands, not quite sure what to do with his creation-demonstration.

“Hmmm,” Sandaime hums, a touch bemused before he brings his pipe back up to his lips. “Reminds you of someone, doesn’t it, Tsunade?”

Tenzou looks at Tsunade, who in a space of a heartbeat looks far too young in a show of vulnerability, as her throat bobs when he swallows. It gets washed away when he clicks her tongue and turns to look at Tenzou, giving him a once over.

“Well, no one fucks with grandfather’s DNA, gets away with it and then keep it from me. Had it been anyone else but Danzou, Root of all places, I wouldn’t take issue! When did you discover your Mokuton skills, boy?”

“A year before I graduated from the Academy.” Tenzou swallows. “I was five years old.”

“Nine years! With that creep!” Tsuande shouts.

Sandaime’s tobacco inhale had to be the longest one Tenzou has ever seen.

Sandaime exhales, responding with a sigh, “Better late than never, hmm?”

“Fine.” Tsaunde grouches. “I’ll do it. Tenzou, you can call me okaa-san when you’re ready.”

The pot drops from Tenzou’s hands.

“Eh?”

Tenzou thinks it's a good response. Given the proverbial punch to the face he’s just received.

*

It’s not that Tenzou wants to say he cares much for the idea of family.

It’s more like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

(What does family even mean?)

So Tenzou, much like every other time he gets moved around like he’s no more than a potted plant, agrees.

Not like it really matters, right?

He thinks of it as just having another sort of… superior?

*

A superior that Tenzou apparently now gets to live with after all of those paperwork.

In a large, inherited estate, closed off, covered in wildly growing flora and fauna. The estate does not look like it’s been lived in for decades. There is damage from the growth of vines, some of it poking through the tatami doors, and getting to the interior of the house. There are a few soda cans littered around the gate, some old, some new. Likely the result of dares from the younger crowd of Konoha.

The once heralded Senju estate that Hashirama and Tobirama and their families once resided in is now nothing more than a shadow of its former glory. Uncared for. Outdated. Obsolete.

“Well,” Tsunade huffs. “I haven’t seen this place in, hmm, ten years maybe? Maybe twelve? Tche, what a dump.”

Tsunade toes an old, faded orange soda can by her heel, kicking it further away.

Tenzou wishes he’s no more than a spore in the ground. Should he say something? He may be a Senju by name and by experimental DNA, but that doesn’t really make him a Senju-Senju.

It’s just circumstances.

“Well? What do you think, kid? You like the house?” Tsunade holds her hand out at the once upon a time regal grounds, now overgrown with weeds and littered with random junk.

Tenzou looks at the estate again and decides to go with the most diplomatically acceptable response there is in this case.

“It’s a lot bigger than my apartment,” Tenzou politely responds, as his eyes stray towards the patch of wildly growing rosary pea and oleander growing by the gate.

Tsunade’s booming laughter echoes throughout the entire compound, bemused and real. She doubles over, slapping a hand on her knee, her laugh tapering off to a bit of a wheeze. It almost sounds nervous. A little hysterical even.

Tenzou tilts his head to the side, staring up at this woman, this new mother of his, a legendary sannin, one of the most if not the best, medic there is in the country.

Would it be rude to ask her if she is okay?

“Kid,” Tsunade snorts, shaking her head, reaching out to ruffle Tenzou’s long hair. “I like your sense of humor. You and I are going to get along just fine.”

*

Tsunade asks to see his apartment.

And then proceeds to wear what Tenzou can only assume is her analytical face. It’s peppered with a little judgment, too.

Tenzou’s current apartment is a shoebox in size, with enough space for a single bed, a small sectioned off wall by the door turned to a makeshift kitchen and a connecting bathroom that Tsunade, no doubt, will have to carefully manage her long limbs.

“You like it here?” Tsunade asks, her lips twisting at the sight of the old hotplate on the tiny kitchen counter.

“It serves its purpose.” Tenzou shrugs.

“That wasn’t my question,” Tsaunde prompts, turning that analytical gaze back to Tenzou.

Tenzou frowns, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the back of his head in partial confusion, partial irritation. It’s a comfortable space -- what is she on about? Having an opinion on something as trivial as a living space serves no purpose in the betterment of Tenzou’s skills in the field. It has no correlation to his successful mission counts. Liking something or anything for that matter doesn’t make missions easier or harder, either.

Unsure of how to respond, Tenzou resorts to Danzou’s advice when it comes to undercover. If you’re caught in a tight spot, the easiest thing to slip out of attention is to either blend with your surroundings or mirror the person in front of you.

Tenzou goes for the mirror, sloping his eyebrows down the same way Tsunade is, relaxing his shoulder to what looks like a wary slump, canting his head just the tiniest bit to the side, and responds with what he hopes is a conclusion to this conversation, “It’s all right.”

Tsunade goes quiet for a while, before she sighs slowly and curses under her breath.

“Let’s try this again,” Tsunade sighs, gesticulating with her hand towards the entirety of the small apartment. “What do you think would make this space better suited for you? Take into consideration that you are also currently studying botany and architecture.”

Tenzou looks at the small stack of reference books he had borrowed from the public library, how he has to do most of his reading on the bed. If he had to sketch on drawing paper, he usually does so on the ceiling given the lack of floor space and a full flat wall that isn’t lined with bulging pipes or the sil of the window, with the paper taped on the corners. Makes it easier for him to get on his knees and practice his pencil sketches.

“Then that’s something you should consider when you fix our house, hmm?”

Oh. So he’s fixing it.

Well.

Okay, then.

—

And yeah that’s all I got. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[authenticcadence18]

Miraculous Ladybug AU for phinabella though

OK ANON HERE I AM PHINABELLA MIRACULOUS AU LET’S GO. I’ve literally been thinking about this since you sent it and I have SO MANY IDEAS (many of which are inspired by “The Beak”...LOL)

So a few things before we get into character stuff: I imagine this AU taking place a few summers after the summer Phineas and Ferb primarily takes place in (so it takes place with the same versions of the characters we know, not with alternate reality versions of them). Idk whether or not the Miraculous are still magical in this AU. They’re either exactly like they are in Miraculous Ladybug OR they are technology developed by OWCA to give humans animal powers (but if we go with the latter I have to figure out WHY OWCA needs humans in the first place, lol)

ok so CHARACTER STUFF. This AU starts when the kiddos are first starting high school. This means Isabella is starting to try and get over Phineas and Phineas is starting to realize he’s got feelings for Isabella. They’re still best friends but things are a little awkward and different between them now. 

ENTER THE MIRACULOUS. Phineas gets the Ladybug (because I mean power of creation? that’s 100% Phineas) and Isabella gets the Black Cat (she would also be great with the Ladybug, but I think she’d be better with the Black Cat than Phineas...Phineas might get freaked out with the power of Destruction). 

MORE RAMBLING UNDER THE CUT

I am not sure why Isabella and Phineas are given the miraculous in the first place, maybe a hawkmoth-esque villain starts wreaking havoc and they receive the miraculous to stop them. (The Hawkmoth character is PROBABLY not related to Phineas or Isabella in this AU, that’s just too much angst. I haven’t really decided who Hawkmoth is yet, but that isn’t really important here). Isabella and Phineas don’t know each other’s identities (and we’re just going to count HEAVILY on the Miraculous magically disguising their identities because I know their heads are very distinctive, LOL), and they can’t reveal them to each other because it’s dangerous, I guess. 

Phineas and Isabella go by “The Bug” and “The Cat,” respectively (taking some inspiration from “The Beak” here! I think they’d just go with simple names). Phineas’s weapon is still a yo-yo, and Isabella has a silver sash that can whip out and take the shape of a staff if she needs it to (because she’s Isabella, she HAS to have a sash). And also Isabella’s eyes stay blue when transformed. 

ok now what you really clicked on that read more for...LOVE SQUARE DYNAMICS

Isabella/Phineas: 

Like I said earlier, Isabella and Phineas are still best friends, but Isabella is CONVINCED Phineas will never feel anything romantic for her and is trying very, very hard to get over him. Phineas, meanwhile, is gradually beginning to realize he’s got feelings for Isabella, but he’s still an oblivious bean and worries she won’t feel the same way (and he has NO IDEA she likes him back). So there’s no over the top plans to confess or anything, just sweet moments. Over the course of the story, Phineas falls for Isabella more and more. 

Cat/Bug:

So in their superhero personas, Isabella and Phineas are a perfect team. They’re both natural leaders and take the reins in different scenarios. (so it’s different from the dynamic of Ladybug and Chat Noir, in which Ladybug is assuredly the leader). Because Isabella and Phineas have been working together their entire lives and are already very in sync—even if they don’t realize it—neither of them has to be the defacto leader (although in a PINCH, Isabella probably emerges as the leader, just because she’s ISABELLA). Tbh, their dynamic isn’t too different from the Phinabella dynamic in the regular show (which is good, because the ACTUAL Phinabella dynamic in this AU is a little awkward and hesitant). 

At first they start off as friends, just friends, but Isabella gradually realizes she’s starting to develop feelings for the Bug. This scares her a little at first (and also makes her feel a little guilty, because what about Phineas?), but she eventually reasons it’s okay to feel things for him and that he isn’t Phineas and maybe this is good and helping her move on (plus having feelings for him just feels RIGHT for some reason). I don’t think she goes out of her way to flirt with him, though...she’s done that with Phineas and it never works so she doesn’t do it with Bug. (the irony here is she doesn’t REALIZE she’s still pining after Phineas.) as the story develops, she falls for him more and more….even though there are still lingering feelings for Phineas in her heart. (and perhaps she comes to realize the qualities she admires in the Bug are also ones she admires in Phineas and has a bit of a crisis). So it isn’t like in miraculous Ladybug where Chat is head over heels for Ladybug and VERY OBVIOUS about it. It’s more subtle on Isabella’s part. 

Phineas admires Cat greatly and respects her SO MUCH and almost instantly considers her one of his best friends, but he doesn’t like her romantically (and maybe even if he feels a SMIDGE of romantic feelings for her, he isn’t going to give in to that! because he’s finally realizing he loves Isabella, he can’t be interested in anyone else!) and is 100% oblivious to the fact that she likes him. Which is painfully ironic for multiple reasons. LOL. 

 Isabella calls Bug her “little ladybug,” but I am not sure what Phineas calls her. Maybe he just calls her “Cat.” I’ve gotta brainstorm that a bit more, lol. 

Isabella/Bug

Basically Ladrien. Soft, blushy, adorable. And different! Because unlike Ladrien, where the characters have known each other for the same amount of time, Phineas has known Isabella for WAY LONGER than she’s known him as “The Bug” so he has to be VERY CAREFUL not to say anything that could give his identity away whenever they interact. Isabella is also just as resourceful out of the suit, so she’s able to assist Bug on occasion (which only makes him fall for her even MORE). 

Cat/Phineas

Ok so this relationship is a lot like Marichat but it’s also different because Isabella “used to be” (is totally still) in love with Phineas. Phineas has no idea Cat is in love with him in his superhero persona (and of course he has no idea Isabella “used to be” in love with him). I’m imagining some sort of balcony scene (though it would probably be more of a “roof of the Flynn-Fletcher house” scene, lol) in which Isabella sees Phineas sitting up there alone while suited up and goes to talk to him to make sure he’s alright:

“Hey...whatcha--UH--what are you up to?”

After a bit of prodding, Phineas tells Cat about the girl he likes and how he feels like he lost time and that things are different between them now. Isabella is saddened by that (because of course she still likes him), but she encourages him anyway and is like “you should tell her how you feel! you don’t want to regret not telling her...” (she’s speaking from experience, lol). And at some point, Phineas lets it slip that he’s talking about Isabella and she’s like “now hOLD UP JUST A SECOND—”. So it’s like the balcony scene in Miraculous Ladybug, but REVERSED. (and idk what would happen after this, but it would probably be very soft.)

Some Extra Stuff

Akumatization is still a thing in this AU (although, again, it could either be magical or technology-assisted akumatization). 

I’m preeeetty sure Ferb knows Phineas is The Bug, and maaaaaybe he eventually figures out Isabella is the Cat? This means he cannot get akumatized...because if he does....aNGST. 

Eventually there’s a reveal and of COURSE Isabella and Phineas get together right afterward (and maybe they’re already together as civilians, due to the “rooftop” scene I talked about earlier, and finding out their identities just makes everything fall into place, idk). 

There are NO alternate love interests in this AU. None of that. Nope. Just Isabella and Phineas. Being in love. (And of course the other PnF characters are there too....just not as potential love interests. LOL.) 

aaaaand that’s what I’ve got for now! This is suuuper long but ANON YOU INSPIRED ME. THANK YOU. If you guys have any questions/ideas for the au, feel free to send them! Thinking through all this stuff was a ton of fun! 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 240: PLIFF

Previously on BnHA: Shigaraki “Thanos” Tomura gleefully reduced an entire city to dust while laughing maniacally. You know, villain things. He almost turned Re-Destro to dust as well, but Re-Destro got around that by chopping off his own legs. Like it was no big. I still haven’t quite managed to process that yet. Anyway, so everyone was real impressed by Tomura at this point, because how could you not be, and to sum things up, Re-Destro basically accepted him as his lord and savior and handed the Meta Liberation Army over to him. So now Shigaraki Tomura, noted crazy person and heir to All for One’s empire, who has just upgraded his quirk so as to be able to destroy basically anything within an unknown range without even having to touch the thing directly, and who has also pledged to destroy the entire world, has an army. And he also has Gigantomachia, who was watching him all hearts-in-eyes while he did his thing. So all in all this has been a very productive arc for the League of Villains. And meanwhile, the League of Everyone Else may want to think about changing their name to “League of People About To Be Incredibly Fucking Screwed.”

Today on BnHA: The League of Villains, in what is clearly the best rebranding move since New Coke, renames itself the “Paranormal Liberation Front”, a.k.a. PLF, a.k.a. PLIFF because that’s what it instantly became in my head and you can’t stop me. Among PLIFF’s Finest is newly initiated member Hawks, whose mystery bag is finally confirmed to have contained exactly what we all thought it was going to contain. I don’t even want to talk about that. I’m still in denial. But also weirdly thrilled. I’m terrible. Anyway, so Hawks is all “:) we’re fucked,” agreeing with the consensus the general fandom has come to over the past week, and palling around with his new best friend Dabi as he frantically tries to come up with some kind of plan. Maybe the heroes can try rebranding themselves as “the Supernatural Emancipation Cavalry.” That wouldn’t really solve anything, but it’d be funny to watch the villains come to realize they’re being mocked. Sorry but y’all brought this on yourselves.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)  

so I received an ask from a very kind anon warning me to be careful of spoilers for this chapter. thank you, anon! rest assured that I have been very cautious, and am pleased to inform everyone that I’m diving in spoiler-free this week. so bring on your Kacchan hero names, your Best Jeanist heads, your new Deku quirks, and whatever other twists you want to toss my way, manga. but especially that first one. this arc has been fantastic, but now that it’s wrapping up, I miss my kids and I would like to check in with them soon. they grow up so fast and time is precious

so apparently the title for this chapter is “Power”, which could mean lots of things, but I imagine it’s not something that bodes well for our heroes. honestly does anything bode well for them at this point. they’re not having much luck on the boding front

oh cool, a time jump! so this is apparently now one week after “the deadly battle.” wow, way to sum everything up in the blandest terms possible while still being accurate. like, yeah, that is what it was, but somehow it doesn’t quite communicate the full magnitude of what actually went down, you know?

anyway so the town basically looks like it got hit by a fucking meteor

new crack theory that a time-traveling Shigaraki Tomura is what actually killed the dinosaurs

wow would you fucking look at this

I guess this is the BnHA version of “an unfortunate training exercise”

also I like how they didn’t think it would be believable that one sleepy boi could cause all of this destruction, so they amped it up to twenty fucking guys instead. sob. why did they even bother giving Tomura an army. he is an army

lol the bullshit continues

“reporting to you live from Deika City, an innocent and wholesome country town in no way affiliated with an extreme right-wing quirk supremacist movement, where citizens recently found themselves victims of an entirely unprovoked attack by no fewer than twenty, and definitely more than six, villains. the brave citizens proceeded to fight them off, and definitely killed them all and didn’t surrender to them and elect their leader as their new god. also the president of Detnerat just happened to be there. just coincidentally. he definitely was not the one who instigated the entire thing. when asked for comment, Mr. Yotsubashi responded, quote, ‘nonsense, I’m no hero. would you call a man a hero just because he fought off an army of villains alone and selflessly sacrificed his own legs to ensure that justice prevailed? would you call that heroic? poppycosh. that’s just the kind of man I am. I wouldn’t call myself brave. ‘humble,’ maybe. ‘handsome’, perhaps. but a hero? no. I’m just an everyday, all-around good type of person, that’s all.’ so there you have it. truly a courageous figure. a gallant example of truly stellar fortitude and virtue. we need more Yotsubashi Rikiyas in these trying times. back to you, Jeff”

anyway, so the media in BnHA. fairly gullible, huh?

so now the report is concluding with a statement that the investigation is still ongoing. uh huh. damn they really got away scot-free with all this, huh

and we’re cutting to a close-up of sushi! oh my god. Compress have your dreams finally come true at last

yesssss oh my god. I’m so happy for him

(ETA: on my second read-through I paid attention to try to see whether or not Compress had finally gotten a new robot arm, but it’s impossible to tell. he’s only using his right hand here, and later on when he goes on stage with the rest of them he’s wearing his usual trenchcoat and gloves. I’m just gonna assume he finally got the upgrade he wanted, though. nice to see you so content, Mister I-Ran-Around-A-Lot.)

excuse me, what, Dabi? he didn’t even do anything?? as opposed to you, who basically just set yourself on fire and glared at Frogurt for half a dozen chapters?? don’t hurt yourself climbing back down from that high horse you punk

lol what

I don’t even have to scroll down to the rest of this page to immediately know this is some bullshit. she’s not dead. out of everyone in the League she’s probably third most important after Tomura and Mr. You-Didn’t-Even-Do-Anything above. her quirk is too plot-critical for her to actually be dead. you’re not gonna kill off the ONLY GIRL IN THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS, either. Horikoshi who do you even think you’re fooling

ah, yep

Togaaaaaaaaa omg. I’d hug you but you’d stab me. but I’m so happy to see you my precious baby girl

and it actually makes sense for Twice to be mourning the clone, though, and I’m glad they showed it. because he of all people understands that the clone is the person to at least some degree. like, it’s nice that he doesn’t just view them as disposable and he respects them. he’s so nice omfg

anyway so it looks like he’s back to being crazy though

oh well, it was nice while it lasted. at least he doesn’t appear traumatized anymore. and he has a boyfriend now too. where is Giran anyway

now fucking Skeptic is walking in like he’s on the set of a fucking sitcom

[canned audience laughter]

nice touch on the following page with Hanabata starting to refer to Re-Destro as “The Supreme...” before catching himself and amending it to just “Re-Destro”

oh wow

damn, LoV, y’all went from poverty straight to the .01%. talk about an upgrade

oh my god there’s a secret passage

oh my god it leads to a secret basement

trying not to think about the last time we were in a secret villain basement. this isn’t like that. relax. that arc is over now. deep breaths

holy shit

this is like the fucking Mines of Moria. complete with a Balrog. jesus christ

omg look who got himself a BRAND NEW SUIT AND TIE ENSEMBLE oh shiiit

is that a fucking fur-lined coat. Shigaraki Tomura has officially upgraded to KHR Villain status. what a little shit. I adore you, you son of a bitch

and I thought he destroyed all the hands?? come on dude, I know it’s like your signature look, but I was hoping we were going in a different direction from here on out. ah well

wow, Horikoshi

just once. just once I would like this man to leave a plothole unaddressed for more than one page. god I love this manga

anyway so they’re fully lampshading the fact that this one hand somehow miraculously survived, and they’re all “I guess it’s his trademark, huh?” yep, that’s right. his lewk. now be quiet, you two. which of us is doing the recap here

so now RD is up on stage showing off the weirdest fucking wheelchair I’ve ever seen, and singing Tomura’s praises

it’s remarkable how quickly his ego adapted to his brand new role as head of Tomura’s PR. he almost seems to be enjoying this more than when he was the leader

oh shit??

A NEW NAME?? oh my god. edge of my seat. can’t wait. take it away boys

LOOOOOOOL what

sob this makes it sound like they do ghost investigations. is there a League of Villains Buzzfeed Unsolved AU. this is what happens when you put the otaku in charge of the name

just. why paranormal. they thought it sounded cool?? and am I really supposed to type out PLF and not pronounce it like “pliff” in my head moving forward?? yeah, that’s not happening. you guys are now PLIFF. congratulations

thank god they’ve still got Tomura to lend legitimacy to this whole ridiculous operation. god, there’s something I never thought I’d say. Tomura why are you now the part of the League -- excuse me, PLIFF -- that I actually take the most seriously. god

y’all heard the man. whatever we want. this is happening. just remember kid, you gave me permission

holy shit you guys is that motherfucking Carvel!?!? I was staring at the panel all “WHO IS THIS” and wondering if they’d somehow brought Kizuki back to life, oh my god. I’m fucking dying send help. he looks like Galaxy Express 999. my brain is short-circuiting

anyway so everyone is all HOORAY WE LOVE THIS and they’re all cheering

HOMBGLKDF

DSLFKSHDLGK HEY BOY, HOW ARE YOU LIKING BEING A MEMBER OF THIS NEW HERE VILLAIN CULT. WHERE’S THE FUCKING BAG, HAWKS

SDFKSJDLFKSDLKFH A FLASHBACK AHHHHHH

I CAN’T TURN THE PAGE OH GOD NO SOMEBODY ELSE DO IT

OH MOTHERFUCKING SHIT

my jaw just. fucking. -- -----------

okay Hawks. fucking explain. how did you do it. is it a fake?? surely it’s not the real deal?? oh god, the memes have now become terribly real. I have no choice but to embrace this with even more stupid jokes and memes as a coping mechanism or I’m gonna lose it

but for real, they didn’t seriously do my boy Jeanist like that. Paramount Optimal Jeanist did not survive a point-blank attack from motherfucking All For One just to get shanked by Hawks so that he could get good with PLIFF, only to be, and I quote, “too late...!”

(ETA: and on readthrough #2, Dabi does indeed bring up the fact that this might not actually be Jeanist’s corpse. “setting aside the issue of whether he is who you say he is...” so even he acknowledges that shenanigans could be afoot.

but he seems convinced it’s a real body at the very least. though did it never occur to you that he could have just picked it up from the morgue, dude? that’s gonna be my go-to theory for now at any rate.)

is now a good time for me to bring up something I’ve been wondering about for a while, which is how Bakugou is going to take this? yes, Bakugou. “okay makeste, I know he’s your favorite and I know you miss him, but what kind of mental cartwheels are you doing in order to make this situation with Hawks and PLIFF somehow relate to Bakugou Katsuki, whom we last saw twenty fucking chapters ago, and who has absolutely nothing to do with this?”

well I’m glad you asked, and you see, it’s because (a) the internship, and (b) because we already know Katsuki blames himself for at least one hero’s downfall as a result of what happened in Kamino, and I could easily see him having a similar response to Best Jeanist’s injury and subsequent disappearance. like, we already know this shit is all over the news. and Bakugou knows Jeanist personally. and so now what with him being missing, I can’t help but wonder if he’ll blame himself again for being the reason Jeanist was there at Kamino, and lost a lung, and so forth

and I realize this tangent is coming sort of out of left field, but seeing as this arc is finally wrapping up, and we can expect to cut back to the U.A. kids again soon, I just figured I’d bring it up now, because we’ll see if I’m right or not shortly

anyway. so let’s get back on topic. best dead Jeanist. oh god

but it seems like it did, at least, finally convince Dabi of Hawks’s sincere villainous intentions. so we have that one minor win, I guess. congratulations Hawks, now you know about the secret villain basement and their new rebranding. was it worth it you bastard

oh shit. actually, maybe it was. because now he understands just how incredibly screwed they are sob

so he doesn’t know for sure about the Noumu yet. so Tomura still has that little ace up his sleeve. fucking great

but him knowing about the Detnerat thing is big, though. so now the heroes know not to trust any of their equipment, or any of their lackeys like fucking Slidin’ Go. that’s something, at least

and you gotta love the whole “equal to, if not greater than” bit, sob. never in my life have I ever seen something so egregiously understated. “Shigaraki might be more powerful than the heroes at this point” yeah, you think!? god

holy shit Re-Destro calm the fuck down

Tomura’s telling him to get lost, and he’s immediately making himself scarce lol. good riddance

and Tomura is now kneeling dramatically and pounding his fist on the floor. okay

hey

I take offense, sir. “League of Villains” had a timeless air about it. and more importantly, you couldn’t abbreviate it to the sound that someone makes when they plop down tiredly onto a couch

oh shit!!!!

THIS LAST PAGE HAD BETTER BE A TERRIFYING PANEL OF THE HIGH END NOUMUS, OMG. I’M HOLDING MY BREATH

GODDAMMIT IT’S JUST ANOTHER SEXY CLOSEUP OF TOMURA’S FACE

I mean, can you actually call it that at this point? can you actually “grant” something to someone if they already have more of it than they know what to do with?

but I mean, we know what he really means though, so fair enough

oh ffs now he’s saying “but first there’s something I’d like you to do for me” oh my god enough with these side quests!

he wants him to transport something, apparently. ARE YOU HATCHING SOME NEW SCHEME oh gosh

oh my god and meanwhile Hotwings is becoming canon right before our eyes holy shit

of course!! he’s fucking thrilled!! everything is just!! so great!! right now!! :)!!!!!

oh my god Hawks

“Endeavor, and everyone” I see what you did there kid

(ETA: and as far as I recall, Endeavor doesn’t even know about his undercover mission yet. I wonder how he’s going to react when he finds out. your adopted son is now best friends with your presumed-dead son! and in mortal danger omg.)

wow. wow. and that’s the end of the chapter. fucking shit

so! lots to process! Hawks really did it! the absolute madman!! and Dabi fucking loves him now, which is great, if you like things that inevitably end in tragedy. then that’s great for you. but otherwise I guess it’s not so great

so I wonder if our next arc will be the Undercover Hawks Antics arc, or if we’ll be getting back to Deku and the gang. I’m guessing the latter because it’s been a while, but it’s definitely exciting to see this particular plotline finally advancing and becoming more intricate

so basically I have no idea what to expect next week. which is amazing. I’m so fucking excited. now if Horikoshi could just leave us all a little pity disclaimer clarifying that no Jeanists were actually harmed in the making of this chapter and that it was all CGI or some shit, that would be great :/

[lesbian-sora]

Eligible and Illegible

Summary: In a world where soul mates are identified when their first thoughts about you appear in real time, radio personality Phil Lester knows that there’s more to life than finding your soulmate. However, when he discovers that he just missed meeting them in the tube, his tune changes a bit. Phil believes in fate, but does his soulmate?

Genre: Fluff, soulmates

Words: 7.1 K

Warnings: Swearing

Beta: Light and love of my life @theoceanismyinkwell

Author’s Note: Hello! This was prompted by some lovely anon, and I was thrilled to write it! I changed it juuuust a bit, so I hope that’s okay! I love soulmates and I love filling prompts! Thanks so much for sending it in. ^_^ If you have a fic you want to see, I’d love to write it so send it in! I’m doing an advent for Christmas, so I won’t get to any non-holiday themed fics until January, but I still want to see them! I’ll post a not about that later, but until then,enjoy this fic and happy Thanksgiving!

Prompt me!

Buy me a coffee!

Check out my PBB!

“So, are you going to tell me about it, or are we going to ignore the dopey smile on your face?” Phil asked casually, swaying with the motion of the tube and tapping furiously at his phone. He was almost at a new highscore, and nothing would distract him. “I’m surprised you managed to get anything done at work today with your head in the clouds.”

“Her name is Sophie,” PJ sighed, and if he had been anyone else, Phil would have accused him of gushing. “I met her this weekend at that film festival.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s my soulmate.”

Phil jerked his gaze up and stared open mouthed at PJ. He distantly heard his phone let out a defeated trumpet sound as his character died. “You’re joking.”

PJ grinned and held up the back of his hand. There in delicate cursive were the words Oh my gosh, he’s the guy who did that film about the tiny planets; I should go say hello.  “Yeah, I was at the mixer they held and she came up to me and when I waved at her, I saw I had this written on my hand.”

“Lucky yours was so easy to spot,” Phil said. His own parents had their soulmate identifying marks, but not each other’s. As the marks were on their backs, neither had noticed they had met their soulmate that day until they got home. They had, of course, looked for their soulmates, but eventually they gave up and wound up finding each other. They always claimed that Fate did step in to bring them together, and Phil genuinely believed it.

“Even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been hard to find her,” PJ shrugged. “Between all the websites solely dedicated to finding missed connections and the fact that I would have had access to the guest list means I would have found her by the end of the week.”

“Yeah. Imagine having a missed connection on the tube or just on the street,” Phil shuddered. “You wouldn’t even know for sure if they were from England, much less London. You’d probably never find them.”

“The world works in mysterious ways,” PJ shrugged. “If the universe truly wants you to be with a certain person, it will put you together. Anyway, this is my stop; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, hey!” Phil said, pulling out his wallet and handing over a couple pound notes. “Can you stop by that bakery on your way in and get me one of those red velvet cupcakes? I love those things.”

PJ laughed and pocketed the money. “Yeah, all right, I’ll get you one. I’m surprised you haven’t found your soulmate in one of those cupcakes yet.”

Phil grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “I can’t help they’re so good. It’s not my fault.”

“You’re a menace, you know that?” PJ shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Phil.”

“Bye, PJ! Don’t forget my cupcake!”

PJ rolled his eyes, but he was swept up in the herd leaving the car before he could say anything. Phil shoved his wallet in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He frowned when he saw that he was less than 100 points from breaking his record, and started tapping away again. About 30 seconds in, he was distracted by a sudden itch on his bicep, and silently cursed the cold weather that put the puffy coat between his fingers and skin. He ignored it and went back to tapping.

A few more sad trumpets later, Phil beat his score right as the tube screeched to a halt at his stop. He pocketed his phone, and disembarked, happy to note that the crowd at his stop was rather thin. He wasn’t fond of crowds in any situation, but he’d moved less than a month ago, and still got turned around when trying to figure out which escalators he needed to take.

A hand clasped his shoulder and Phil whirled around to see a man with curly brown hair panting and Phil was sure this was going to be the last thing he ever saw. The man took a deep breath, and reached for something in his pocket. Oh god, please don’t be a murderer, I’m too young to die. Phil opened his mouth to scream for help, but the man just held out a familiar looking Astro Boy wallet and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “You, er, dropped this.”

Phil blinked for a moment and took his wallet. “Oh, uh, thanks.”

The man smiled, and Phil noticed that when he did, his eyes got sparkly. “All right, I’ve got to get back on that car before it leaves again. Bye, mate!” And then he turned and ran off.

Phil let a little smile linger on his lips as he waved goodbye to someone he knew couldn’t see him. He gently shook his head, and refocused on the task at hand: That is, getting home. He huddles deeper into his coat once he hits the street, and considers texting PJ about his wallet returning vigilante, but shrugs it off. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see him again. Instead, he goes home, scratches Thor between her ears, makes himself a pot of coffee, and sits down at his computer to prepare for tomorrow’s radio show.

He alternates between working, browsing Tumblr, and looking at cat videos until late in the night, only stopping to scarf down some leftover Chinese takeaway for dinner. When his phone buzzes to advise him that it’s bed time, he yawns and stretches his arms above his head. He closes his windows, gently nudges Thor with his foot and muttered, “Come on, Thor, it’s bedtime.” Thor got up from where she was sleeping under the desk, stretched, and scurried to Phil’s room and up her little badger stairs to his bed. Phil followed behind her, squirming out of his jumper to get into some comfier sleep clothes.

He was passing a mirror hanging in the hall when he saw it out of the corner of his eye. He then choked on air and quickly backpedaled to get a better look. Still there. He rubbed his eyes and checked again. Still there. He pinched himself to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk. Still there. He stood there mouth agape for a solid minute before simply sighing out, “Well, fuck.”

Still there.

There, wrapped around his bicep in almost illegible scrawl, were the words, I wonder if that guy realizes he dropped his wallet.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Phil was very nervous on the tube to work the next day. He was subconsciously rubbing the place on his arm where his soulmark was and nervously counting down the stops until he got to PJ’s. He was also trying to covertly look around the car to see if he could recognize anyone from yesterday. He had a feeling it was the man who had returned his wallet, but truthfully, it could have been anyone. He knew it had to have been on the tube, though, as he definitely hadn’t had it yesterday morning and he miraculously only dropped his wallet once. However, he didn’t recognize anyone, and no one seemed to be furtively looking around like he was.

When the train finally ground to a halt at PJ’s stop, Phil was right by the door to grab his friend and drag him to a less populated corner. “Calm down, mate!” PJ laughed. “I know you’re eager for your cupcake, but this is ridiculous.”

Phil furrowed his brows. “Cupcake? What do you–” He glanced down and saw the blue and white striped pastry box in PJ’s hands. “Oh, right! I asked you to buy me a cupcake yesterday.”

PJ frowned with growing concern. “If this isn’t about the cupcake, what is it?”

“I met my soulmate yesterday.”

PJ’s worried frown quickly bloomed into a look of delight. “That’s brilliant! What are they like? Where did you–”

“It’s really not brilliant.”

PJ cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean it’s not brilliant?” A look of horrified understanding dawned over his features. “You didn’t notice, did you?”

Phil shook his head. “It’s on my upper arm, and seeing as I’ve been wearing long sleeves, I didn’t notice until I got home and took off my shirt for bed.”

“Do you at least have some idea who it might be?” PJ asked sympathetically.

Phil shrugged. “I think it might be this one guy who returned my wallet to me because my soulmate was apparently thinking about how I dropped my wallet, but there’s no real way to be sure. Could have easily been anyone else who saw me drop it.”

PJ sighed and pulled Phil into a hug, careful not to squish the cupcake. “Cheer up. We’ll get you online and you’ll find them again in no time.”

“That’s assuming they’re gonna go online and that I even saw them enough to have a thought about them,” Phil pointed out. “Plus, what if they’re already married or something?”

“Don’t be like that,” PJ chided. “Where’s the ever-optimistic Phil I know and love? We’ll find them, I promise. You can come over after work and we’ll figure this out together.”

Phil smiled. “Thanks, Peej. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know. Now, eat your cupcake and feel better.”

Work passed uneventfully. Well, as uneventfully as any advice radio host’s day can be, meaning he received a call from a woman claiming to have the ability to communicate with chipmunks and that they told her government secrets, and she needed advice on what to do next. Phil had dutifully stifled his laughter and told her to turn the treasonous rodents in to the nearest police station. His producer, Marge, had given him a very unimpressed eyebrow raise, but it was her fault for not screening calls better, so Phil figured he was good. Also, no fewer than four people had requested Christmas songs, and as it was hardly past Halloween, Phil was a little disgusted people were even daring to utter the C-Word.

As promised, PJ had dragged Phil to his house, and started filling out profiles on missed connections sites. An hour and a half later, Phil was less grateful than he had been that morning.

“Okay, tell me about it one more time,” PJ said, typing away. “You were on the tube and we were talking, and after I left, you dropped your wallet?”

“Yes, and then when I got off, that guy chased me down and gave it back,” Phil groaned.

“Okay, can you describe anyone in the car with you?”

“I don’t know. There was they guy who gave me my wallet who had brown hair and brown eyes, the business lady who carries that pink umbrella no matter the weather, and that guy who’s always eating the mustard sandwich when we get on. You were there, you tell me.”

“Anyone else? Did anyone get on after I got off?”

Phil dragged his hand down his face. “Honestly, I was too busy playing on my phone to pay anyone much attention. The only person I really paid attention to was the guy who gave me my wallet back.”

“Okay, one more question: Would you consider yourself more a Mario or Zelda guy?”

“Playwise, more Mario, but I think Zelda is prettier and has a better story– Wait, what does that have to do with anything?” Phil narrowed his eyes at the screen, and PJ frantically tried to minimize the window, but he wasn’t quick enough. “PJ, are you actually signing me up for a geek dating site? Is that what you think of me?”

PJ rolled his eyes, and spun around in his office chair to look at Phil. “First off, I’m just widening our net. I specifically put in your profile that you’ve met your soulmate, but you’re open to meeting new people.”

“PJ,” Phil groaned, stretching the syllables out.

“Second,” PJ plowed on, “even if this wasn’t to find your soulmate, it would be a good idea. You’ve said yourself that you like going on dates because it lets you meet and connect with new people.” Phil just gave him a flat look and PJ sighed. “Fine. Do you want me to delete your profiles?”

“Profiles as in plural?” Phil gaped. “How many have you made?”

PJ shrugged. “Like four. There’s only a couple missed connections sites to make it less likely for you to miss each other.”

Phil let out a frustrated little huff, but said, “Don’t delete them, I guess. I’m not seeking out other people though, just so you know.”

PJ shrugged. “Fine with me. Just so long as you know that it’s an option.”

“Alright, then, budge up. I want to make sure you at least made me interesting on these things.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Phil was standing outside of a restaurant, rocking back and forth and checking his phone every few minutes. He hadn’t managed to find his actual soulmate in the week that he’d waited, but he did manage to connect with a lovely lady named Louise, and he was supposed to be meeting her for a date. They were supposed to meet about ten minutes ago, but Louise had called in a flurry and explained that her roommate was running late from a job interview and she needed him home to watch her daughter, Darcy. Phil had assured her he totally understood, and would happily wait for her. What he didn’t tell her was that he wasn’t going to sit down to avoid the potential embarrassment of being sat alone at a table for two all night.

“Phil Lester, what are you doing stood out here in the cold?”

His caution was apparently in vain, for when he turned around, there was Louise, looking like she stepped straight out of a children’s princess book with her sparkly skirt and long pink hair. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he had the decency to at least look sheepish. “I, er, wasn’t sure if you were actually coming,” he said, but with the last syllable pitching up and his hunched shoulders, it came off as a clear question.

Louise just smiled gently and patted him on the cheek with one mittened hand. “I understand. Trust me, we’ve all been there, love.”

Phil gaped at her. “You’ve been stood up? But you’re like the prettiest lady I’ve ever seen?”

Louise sputtered for a moment before laughing. “Are you trying to butter me up, you cheeky thing?”

Phil blushed and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, but he felt his cheeks split open in a wide smile. “I mean it, I swear. You really are very pretty.”

“A woman could get used to having men like you and Dan around,” Louise teased.

“Who’s Dan?” Phil asked, cocking his head to the side.

“My flatmate,” Louise explained. “He’s the same as you when it comes to endearingly awkward compliments. The both of you are absolute sweethearts.”

Phil smiled, and offered her an arm. “So, dinner?”

Louise looped her arm through his and said, “I believe that would be wonderful.”

And it was. It was wonderful. Louise was as bright and friendly as she was pretty. She and Phil didn’t share a lot of the same interests, but she was passionate when talking about hers and listened carefully when Phil talked about his. She was hilarious, and thought that Phil spouting off animal facts when he got nervous was adorable. She was kind and funny and smart and everything Phil could ever hope for in a girlfriend, but there was something just… off.

Louise must have felt it too, because when dinner ended, Phil offered to get some mulled wine and take her on a walk in the park, but she smiled almost sadly at him and shook her head. “I don’t think this is going to work for us, Phil,” she sighed. “And I think you know it, too.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “I mean, you’re great and I like you a lot, but I don’t think I like you in a romantic way.”

Louise chuckled. “I feel the same way. You’re an absolute dear, but it felt a lot like going on a date with Dan. He’s my best friend, and I love spending time with him, but I’d never date him.”

Phil bit his bottom lip and said, “Louise, would you like to go on a walk with me?”

Louise furrowed her brow. “Phil, I just–”

“I mean as friends,” Phil interrupted. “I really like talking to you, and I think I’d like talking to you even more if we weren’t on a date.”

Louise blinked at him for a moment, and Phil thought he might have seriously misjudged the situation, but her lips curled into a delighted smile. “Phil Lester, you have yourself a deal.”

Phil grinned and they walked together to a stand selling hot drinks, and Louise insisted on paying and Phil let her. They walked and talked and Phil listened to her complain about Darcy’s primary teachers, and in turn she listened to him talk about how much he was looking forward to the new Pokemon game.

Their conversation lulled as they sat together on a bench until Louise broke the silence. “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to ask, but it definitely wasn’t appropriate for me to ask on our date, so I’m going for it now. What exactly happened with your soulmate?”

Phil self consciously rubbed his bicep. “It was about a week ago when I was on the tube. I dropped my wallet and someone noticed and they were apparently my soulmate. Unfortunately, it’s on my upper arm, so I didn’t notice until I got home that night.”

Louise clucked sympathetically. “Something similar happened with Dan. His mark is on the back of his neck, so he didn’t know it was there until I pointed it out to him the other day. He only just moved here, and before he lived alone, so he has no idea how long he’s had it there.”

“Well, how about you? What’s your soulmate situation?”

“Haven’t met them.”

“But Darcy–”

“Oh, Matt wasn’t my soulmate,” Louise cut in. “His soulmate is actually his little brother. He and I tried out the whole marriage thing, but it clearly didn’t work out.”

Phil nodded, and decided that he was done talking about soulmates and how disappointing they could be. “You said Dan just moved? What’s going on with him?”

“Oh, Dan’s great. He was living in Reading up until recently, but his previous flatmate moved out, so I convinced him to move to London,” Louise beamed. “He’s been job hunting, but nothing’s turned up for him yet, so he’s living with me and Darcy until he’s got everything situated.”

“Does he have any interest in working radio for the BBC?” Phil asked. “There’s some openings and I would be happy to give him a reference. They aren’t exactly glamorous, but they pay really well and it’s pretty easy to move up the ladder.”

Louise blinked at him in shock for a moment before she squealed in delight. “Phil Lester, you are an absolute gem,” she gushed, cupping his face in her hands and squishing her cheeks.

Phil grinned and happily accepted his cheek squishing. “Yeah, you already have my number so just give it to him and make sure he puts Phil Lester down as a professional contact.” He glared at her playfully. “He better be good, though. I don’t want to stand behind someone who’s going to make me look bad.”

“Don’t you worry one bit about that,” Louise assured. “That boy is a textbook perfectionist, so if he’s given a task, you can rest assured that it will be done well.”

They sat there talking for a while until Louise’s phone buzzed loudly in her pocket. She pulled it out and frowned. “Goodness, it really has gotten late. I think it’s best that we call it a night here, then.”

“All right,” Phil agreed easily. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

Louise shook her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll be seeing you soon, Philip.”

Phil beamed. “I look forward to it.”

Louise smiled at him and then almost nervously bit her lower lip. “Good luck finding your soulmate, whoever they are.”

“Thanks.” Phil cleared his throat awkwardly and stuttered out, “Oh, uh, and, uh, tell Dan- tell Dan I said good luck with the job thing.”

“I will,” Louise nodded. She gave him one last parting smile as she lifted her hand in a wave and walked off. “Bye, Phil!”

Phil stood there, smiling and waving after her until she fully turned from him, and then he kept standing there, watching her with a small, satisfied smile. The date hadn’t exactly gone to plan, but Phil couldn’t imagine an ending he would have liked better.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

A month and three different disaster dates later, Phil was still in the same boat as he was before. He and Louise kept up sporadic contact – she had excitedly texted him every step of Dan’s hiring process, ending with him being hired at the station a few days ago – but they hadn’t had time to actually meet up again. He’d gotten exactly zero legitimate hits on the soulmate matching sites, and every person he talked to on the non-soulmate sites somehow managed to be exponentially worse than the one before. He was about ready to call it quits, but PJ was determined to find his soulmate.

“Look, just do this one more thing, and then I promise I’ll let it go,” PJ swore.

Phil narrowed his eyes and continued setting up his radio booth. He was lucky that they pair before him was in another booth, and he had all the time in the world to get ready for his show. When he first started he just did one show a week late Saturday night, and the guy who hosted before him was always incredibly lethargic about getting his shit together and getting out. Now, he had a late afternoon/evening show that played Monday through Thursday, and he couldn’t be happier.

“Fine, I’ll give whatever your new plan is a shot, and when it doesn’t work, you have to promise that you’ll never bring it up again. And you have to go through the hassle of deleting all those dating profiles.”

“Oh, come on. At least keep one dating profile. Dates are fun.”

Phil scowled. “PJ, the last guy I went on a date with told me he collected pigeons, and gave me a live one from his pocket that he’d caught earlier that day so I could start my own. Delete the profiles.”

“All right, all right.”

Phil sighed. “So, what is this brilliant Hail Mary you have up your sleeve? Gonna give me a sign and parade me around Piccadilly Circus?”

“Er, not exactly. Look, you promised, so don’t freak out.”

“Freak out? PJ, what are you–”

“Lester, glad I caught you before your show!” Marge boomed, bursting into the studio.

“Uh, me too? I guess?”

“I really like this idea you have for your show today,” she said earnestly. “I don’t want you to do it until the halfway point, though. Introduce it at the beginning and maybe get the hashtag going to get interest up, but don’t actually do it until act two. People are still expecting advice, and we’ve got to deliver. Got it?”

Phil furrowed his brow. “Uh, what idea exactly?”

“This whole thing about finding your soulmate!” she said, gesturing wildly with her tablet. “It’s all very dramatic and a shoe in to get some new listeners. You just keep building it up, and read out some Tweets from the hashtag. This is going to be a great show. Chin up, Lester!” And with that, she was gone.

Alone again, Phil wheeled around to face PJ with a dark scowl on his face. “I can’t believe you did that,” he hissed angrily. “You know I don’t put my personal business on the radio. There’s not much that’s more personal than this!”

PJ put his hands up in a surrender gesture. “You’re right, I definitely crossed a line and I’m sorry. If I had been thinking straight I wouldn’t have done it in a million years, and you have every right to be mad at me. I do genuinely think this has a good chance of working though, so please give it a shot?”

“I damn well do have the right,” Phil snapped. “And, yeah, I’m going to give it a shot because I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Marge is expecting me to be looking for my soulmate, and now I have to do exactly that. She’s probably already got the social media person working on Twitter. What is the hashtag that I supposedly came up with, anyway?”

“Crossrail connections,” PJ said. “People are just going to be sending in their own missed connection stories and such.”

Phil sighed and a tech person came in to do some final checks on everything, meaning it was time for PJ to get out. “I’ll talk to you after the show,” he said firmly. “I don’t care if I do find my soulmate, you owe me big for this.” PJ nodded meekly and scurried out of the room with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Phil took a deep, calming breath and got into the persona of AmazingPhil, advice radio extraordinaire. To practice, he shot a charming grin at the tech who just raised an eyebrow and refocused, causing Phil to giggle a bit. The tech was definitely new – Phil knew just about everyone who worked this shift – but there was something naggingly familiar about those brown curls.

“Lester, you’re on in thirty,” Marge said over the intercom. “Howell, time’s up. If anything needs to be done, we’ll do it during a song. Get out.” The tech nodded quickly, and scurried out the door faster than Phil had ever seen anyone move. He gave Marge a big thumbs up through the glass which she returned and the tech appeared at her side and started the finger countdown from 10.

“That was ‘What Lovers Do’ by Maroon 5 featuring SZA. I’m in the studio live, and you are now listening to, and hopefully watching, AmazingPhil on BBC Radio One!” Phil recited, already feeling his blood start to pump with excitement like it always did. He grinned and paused for a moment while the recorded man said One. BBC Radio One. “Hey, guys! It is a weekday at four in the afternoon, which means it is, once again time for Amazing Advice with AmazingPhil. In case you haven’t guessed, I am AmazingPhil and normally every day I help you all with whatever problems are in your life, but for the next two hours, we’re going to do something a little bit different.

“That’s right, you guys, today is all about soulmates. We’re going to talk about missed connections, worries about ever finding your soulmate, and what are you even supposed to do when you find them! We have a hashtag going on Twitter, so if you want your Tweet read out, be sure to tag it with ‘hashtag crossroad connections.’ If you’d like to call in our number is 03700 100 342.” He glanced up at Marge who was gesturing expectantly, and he sighed in his head. “But that’s all usual stuff. What makes today different is that today, you guys are going to get the chance to help me. That’s right, I actually had a missed connection with my soulmate, and in one hour I’m going to give you guys the details, so stick around! You can watch all of this unfold on BBC dot co dot UK forward slash radio one where you will see that I have actually sprouted cupid wings in honor of this episode. Now, here’s ‘New Rules’ by Dua Lipa.” He flipped a switch, pulled his headphones down, and let out a satisfied sigh and gave the camera a big cheesy grin. Two minutes down, 118 more to go.

The first hour passed fairly normally – Phil read some Tweets, played some songs, and might have accidentally advised a woman to leave her husband of five years because she met her soulmate in another young lady taking the same pottery class as her – other than the hashtag being almost too full of people wildly speculating about what exactly happened with Phil’s soulmate to find any Tweets they could actually use. One theory Phil found particularly amusing was that he had run into Queen Elizabeth somehow and they were soulmates and he was about to declare his quite literal love for queen and country on air.

He was about to go back on air from a song break when he realized his headphones weren’t working. He quickly grabbed the spare set and frantically gestured for the tech to get in there and fix them. He watched as Howell scrambled into action, grabbed a tool bag and silently went to work on the headphones while Phil turned his attention back to the camera.

“That was ‘Ready for It’ by Taylor Swift, which is rather appropriate, because I need to know if you all are ready for it,” Phil said with comical flair when the song ended. “Yes, it’s been an hour and I’ve been teasing you this whole whole way through, but the time has come. I’m going to tell you my hashtag crossroad connection.” Phil played the dramatic gong noise and the tech had to stifle a laugh. Phil cast him a small smile, then shook his head and went back to the show. “You’ve all been waiting, so here it is.

“My words are… ‘I wonder if that guy knows he dropped his wallet.’” He paused a moment to play the booing noises himself, but made a placating gesture. “Yes, I know. I was a little disappointed about the lack of romance too, trust me. Anyway, about a month ago, I was on the tube home, and I was with my friend and when we got to his stop I handed him some money to buy me a cupcake the next day. I went to put it away and happened to drop my wallet, and apparently my soulmate noticed. So, if you or a friend with really bad handwriting were riding the tube a month ago and rem–”

There was a small crash and Phil jerked his head around to see Howell gaping at him in shock, and suddenly it all clicked into place. The awkward posture, the curly hair, the sparkly brown eyes, everything. It was the guy who had returned his wallet to him. Howell seemed frozen like a deer in headlights for a moment before he turned heel and fled. As he retreated, Phil managed to see some very familiar script written across the back of his neck.

There was a quiet thump and Phil turned again to see Marge on the other side of the glass gesturing almost angrily for him to get the show started again. “Oh, uh, right. So, if you’re my soulmate, or you think you know someone who might be my soulmate, either call in at 03700 100 342 or Tweet using the hashtag crossroad connections. We have a caller coming in. Flint, what soulmate problems are troubling you this wonderful December afternoon?”

Phil went through the motions of the remaining hour of the show. He continued to dole out advice, and he listened to three different teenage girls claim that they were his soulmate. He just gritted his teeth through it, and he’d never been so happy to see Marge make the wrap it up gesture when all was said and done.

“Thank you all so much for joining me here today. As always, it’s been wonderful spending time with you, and I hope you got as much out of it as I did,” Phil beamed. “Thank you for sending in your Tweets and calls about your soulmate problems and advice for me. Up next is Newsbeat to give you all the worldly updates you’ll need. I’ll be back tomorrow, but until then I’m leaving you with my favorite song this week. I’m talking about Portugal. The Man with ‘Feel It Still.’ Bye, guys!”

Almost before he was off air, Marge blew into the room like a hurricane to give him a rundown. “Alright, that was one of your best shows yet,” she said, scrolling and looking at figures on her tablet. We actually got the hashtag trending in the UK, which we don’t manage very often, and there was a huge spike on the website when you talked about your own soulmate experience. We may have to do something like this again, but not very often. Almost everyone likes hearing about soulmates, but we don’t want this to become just a soulmates show.”

“Great, great,” Phil muttered, distracted. “Hey, who was that tech working the show today?”

Marge frowned. “New kid named Daniel Howell. Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not going to get onto him about the thing with the headset, are you? It’s his first day and we all make mistakes. I don’t know what kind of look you gave him earlier, but he’s run off and didn’t come back for the entire show. It would do you good to remember your first couple months on tech when you started here.”

“Oh, no, no, no, that’s not it at all,” Phil assured her. Marge was kind and smart, but sometimes things went way above her head. “I’m pretty sure he’s my soulmate, and he figured it out too which is why he left in a hurry.”

Marge blinked at him for a minute with a furrowed brow before her eyes lit up in understanding. “Oh my god. He’s your soulmate? This is amazing! What are you waiting for? Go find him! Beat it!”

Phil laughed as she flapped her arms to usher him out of the studio. He gave her a quick salute and cheerfully said, “Bye, Marge! See you tomorrow!” before he was tearing down the hall. He knew from his own time on tech that Dan wouldn’t have gotten away with loitering without an assignment for long, and if anyone knew where he’d be it was Matt. Matt worked as head tech and he was the one responsible for making sure the station ran as smoothly as it did.

“Matt! There you are!” Phil gasped, running to catch up with him.

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Uh, hey, Phil. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Phil started without further preamble. “Do you know where Dan Howell is?”

Matt furrowed his brow and started scrolling on his table. “Howell… Howell… Howell…” he muttered to himself. Then he looked up with a grin and snapped his fingers. “Dan! You mean the guy who started here today!”

“Yes, him!” Phil beamed. “Is he in there?”

“Unfortunately, he’s not in the system yet, but I remember giving him something to do,” Matt nodded. “He looked really shaken up – I’m guessing first day nerves – so I sent him to the basement to organize the spare wires boxes. I was going to do it myself, but he looked like he needed something simple and away from people.”

“Thanks, mate, you’re a lifesaver,” Phil grinned, then turned on his heel and ran to the basement. Sure enough, when he got down there, Dan Howell was sitting on the floor surrounded by carefully laid out piles of wires. He had two in his hands, comparing the ends before he untangled one from the Gordian Knot of cords and laid it with the others. Phil carefully rapped on the heavy wooden door to get his attention. He jerked and whipped his head around to look at Phil with wide brown eyes. “Hi, uh, so, I’m Phil.”

“I, uh, yeah, I know,” Dan stuttered. “I was kind of there when you introduced yourself live on radio. I’m Dan.”

“I know, I asked Marge after the show.”

“So, that’s her name. I’m kind of terrible with names and forgot.”

“Same. I called her Maggie about twelve times my first month here.” Dan chuckled before silence fell over the room. Phil cleared his throat. “Okay, so let’s get to the point–”

“You think I’m your soulmate,” Dan finished, turning his attention back to the wires in front of him.

Phil blinked at the phrasing. “Don’t you?”

“Things don’t work out like that for me, Phil,” Dan huffed. “That’s Hallmark Channel stuff, not real life. I don’t have my life together enough for anything like that to happen to me. Hell, I only got this job because my friend went on a lousy date with a stranger and the guy out of nowhere just offered to give me a professional recommendation.”

“Louise?” Phil asked eagerly. “Louise Pentland? Is that who you’re talking about?”

“Yeah? You know Louise?”

“Yeah! I was the lousy date who gave you the recommendation!” He thought over what he’d just said and frowned. “Did she really think it was lousy?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “No, she had a lot of fun, I promise. But you have to admit that any date that ends with you being solidly in a platonic relationship is pretty lousy romance wise.”

Phil shrugged. “I guess you have a point. But, Dan, look! It’s fate! We’re definitely soulmates.”

“What, because you were a weirdo who offered a desperate stranger a job? That’s not how that works.”

Phil huffed and folded his arms. “No, but out of all the people in London I could have gone on a date with, it happened to be your friend and roommate. Then we happened to get along well enough for us to talk about you and she actually did get you to use my recommendation. Then, you did wind up getting the job, and not only were you assigned to my show, your first day was the day I was talking about my soulmate, which, by the way, wasn’t my idea in the first place.”

“Just a lot of coincidences,” Dan muttered, staring at the same wire he’d been holding for a minute now.

“Look, will you just look and see if it’s your damn handwriting?” Phil snapped.

“And what if it isn’t?” Dan shot right back, finally meeting Phil’s eyes again. “What if I do take a look and it turns out that it’s not my handwriting? It was a crowded car, maybe someone else with shitty handwriting saw you drop your wallet. What exactly are you going to do if you hike your sleeve up and you find out you’ve gotten yourself all worked up and excited only to realize that I’m not the person you want?” He shot a hot glare at Phil and went back to his task, but Phil noticed the slight tremor in his long fingers.

Phil bit his lower lip and sat down, carefully avoiding Dan’s wire piles. “Well, I’d be a bit disappointed, obviously,” he said with a false casual air. He watched Dan flinch almost imperceptibly, and lowered his head until he met Dan’s gaze to offer him a gentle smile. “And then I’d offer to help you sort wires as an apology for bothering you.” Dan lifted his head, forehead crumpled in confusion, and Phil had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting on how cute it was. “Yeah, I remember working as a tech, and wire duty isn’t any fun, but it’s definitely more bearable with a friend.” He paused in thought before deciding to add, “And maybe if we really got along, I’d invite you for drinks after.”

Dan sputtered and a pretty pink blush bloomed on his round cheeks. He choked on air for a moment before he cleared his throat and gave Phil a small smile. “I may take you up on the wire thing.”

Phil grinned at him. “And the drinks?”

“We’ll just have to see about that.”

They sat there talking and sorting wires for the better part of an hour. Phil was thrilled to learn that they shared almost all the same interests, while still having individual passions of their own. He had particularly enjoyed the part where he accidentally mentioned Kanye and Dan gushed about him for a solid five minutes. It wasn’t until they were almost done that Dan looked at him and asked the million dollar question. “Why is this soulmate thing so important to you, anyway?”

Phil frowned down at the wire in his hands and thought hard for a minute. “I… I don’t really know. I get that’s not really an answer, but it’s the truth. I know soulmates aren’t the end all be all of everything – my parents are actually both missed connections and they’re the happiest people I know – but when I thought that maybe you were my soulmate I got stupidly excited about it. I wasn’t even that interested in finding my soulmate before this.”

“You just went on a manhunt on live radio looking for them.”

“That wasn’t my idea, it was PJ’s,” he shrugged. He heaved a deep sigh and locked eyes with Dan. “Look, I want you to be my soulmate – like really want you to be my soulmate – but I would and do like you if you aren’t. If you aren’t into this 100% like I am then I’m not about to force you. Right now I feel perfectly confident saying that I’d be happy spending the rest of my life with you without even looking at my soulmark again. And I know that sounds crazy, and it honestly terrifies me, and maybe it’s just the adrenaline talking, but right now I mean it totally and completely.” He took a deep, calming breath and stood, offering Dan a smile an outstretched hand. “So, that’s me. Everything’s out, so I have one more thing to say. Dan, would you like to go on a date with me under the assumption that we’re not soulmates?”

Dan gave the hand a wary look then turned that look on Phil. “You aren’t allowed to look at my mark, either. If I find out you did, I’ll never speak to you again, soulmates or not,” he warned.

“The thought never even crossed my mind.”

Dan grinned up at him and took the hand. “Then, Phil Lester, you have yourself a deal and a date.”

Done-zel Washington

Prompt me!

Buy me a coffee!

Check out my PBB!

[agent-85]

Are you still doing the prompt thing? If so, fs + 82, please? :)

Hey there, anon! “I was in the neighborhood,” coming right up! 

Academy AU. Based on true events.

“FITZ!”

Jemma jumps up from the table and comes at him so fast that Fitz freezes, even as she flings her arms around him. He’s afraid that the ice cream parlor door will swing closed and bang right into him, but it’s a near miss.

“Fitz, imagine meeting you here!”

Fitz shrugs. “I was … in the neighborhood?”

Jemma only grins at him. “I was just about to tell Stewart all about the project we’re working on! Come and sit with us!”

Fitz’s eyes dart from Jemma to the man who must be Stewart. The two exchange an awkward wave as Jemma all but pulls him into an empty seat.

“This is my best friend, Fitz,” she says, “and I haven’t seen him in ages. How are you doing these days, Fitz?”

He pauses, about to tell her that he saw her this morning and he’s not sure which project she’s referring to, or how they could be working on one if they haven’t seen each other, but Stewart cuts him off.

“You know, I bet Fitz came here to get some ice cream,” Stewart says. “And as it happens, I’m something of a culinary expert.” Stewart throws him a smug, flashy smile, and Fitz tries his best to not raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh you are? That’s … interesting.”

“Stewart has been telling me all about his vast knowledge of food,” Jemma deadpans. “The onion soup at The Outback, for example.”

Stewart winks at him. “Impeccable.”

“And,” continues Jemma, “he has a very discerning palette. He tried every single ice cream flavor, then several combinations of flavors, before making his choice.”

Fitz looks over at the barrels of ice cream, knowing that there’s well over thirty-one flavors there. When he turns back to Jemma, he sees that her bowl of ice cream has already melted. It’s not until he sees the desperation in Jemma’s eyes that it all clicks:

Jemma and Stewart are on a date. And it is going badly.

“Here,” says Stewart, getting up, “let me show you.” Before Fitz or Jemma can stop him (Jemma actually makes an attempt at grabbing Stewart’s arm), he’s gone. 

“I thought you had dinner plans,” Fitz whispers, watching an oblivious Stewart receive death glares from every employee behind the counter.

Jemma clenches both fists. “So did I!”

“So, what,” asks Fitz, “he said he’d take you out to dinner and didn’t feed you?”

“And then he spent the entire night talking about food,” she confirms.

Fitz facepalms, “Goodness gracious.” 

Jemma’s not only on a bad date with a socially-inept narcissist—she’s starving.

“Here you go,” says Stewart, “it’s pistachio and—get this—bubble gum.”

Fitz takes the proffered spoonful of ice cream and doesn’t dare to look at Jemma before putting it in his mouth.

“Amazing isn’t it?” asks Stewart. Fitz swallows.

“It’s definitely something.”

“Come on,” says Stewart, “let me treat you to something. I still have a little bit left on my gift card.”

It’s then that Fitz can’t stop himself from looking over at Jemma, who casually motions towards the tip jar, which stands empty. He shudders.

“Actually,” Fitz says, “actually, I, um I came here to get Jemma. Her lab cultures are …” “He grapples for a word, but three semesters of biology fail him. “Sick.”

“What?”

Jemma stands up so quickly that she tips over her chair, then sets it right, then straightens and grabs her purse. “I’m sorry, Stewart, but those cultures are worth half my grade. If there’s anything wrong with them, I’m done for!” She reaches her hand out, and Stewart shakes it reluctantly. “Have a lovely evening.”

Fitz has just enough time to retrieve a handful of bills from his wallet and toss them in the tip jar on their way out.

“Ugh, Fitz!” She puts her head in her hands and groans. “That is the last time I let any anyone set me up on a date. Maybe it’s the last time I’ll go on a date at all.” 

When he opens the car door for her, she sits down about as crossly as anyone is capable of sitting, and he smiles to himself as he shuts the door and walks around the car.

“Fitz,” she says when takes his seat, “do you know precisely how many words came out of my mouth before your miraculous arrival?”

Fitz furrows his brow and sneaks a glance at her as he puts the car in gear. “How many?”

���One,” she says. “‘Hello.’”

“No,” he says, gaping. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She folds her arms, still stewing. “Not that I didn’t have anything to say, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But he insisted on telling me the most boring stories without letting me get a word in edgewise! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up. I thought he’d be interesting to talk to, seeing as he picks up dead bodies and brings them to the Academy morgue.”

Fitz grimaces. “He … what?”

“I thought he’d have fascinating stories about dead powered people,” she says with a shrug. “And he had plenty of stories, alright—all simultaneously boring and inappropriate. I’m not exactly sure how he did it. Ugh,” she says again. “I swear, the only good man left in this world is you, and you’re not interested.”

Fitz almost stops the car, feeling that the air has been sucked out of the room. “What?”

“What?” Jemma asks in return, bewildered, until she sees his expression and all the color drains from her face. “I didn’t—I just meant hypothetically that—I mean, it’s not like I’ve met every man in the world, so that was an obvious generalization.” 

The car comes to a red light and he stops, clutching tighter at the steering wheel as his hands become slick with sweat.

“Did you—are you interested?”

Jemma becomes suddenly enthralled with the hands clasped together in her lap, and he has his answer in her blushing cheeks. He stares at her so long that he doesn’t notice the light has turned green until the person behind him honks.

“I, um.” He clears his throat, grateful he has an excuse to watch the road. “I mean, if I did ask you on a date,” he says, “you’d go with me?”

She looks over at him briefly, then picks at the lint on her dress. “If you asked,” she says.

“Well, I … what if we go right now?”

That gets her to look at him again with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, look, you’re already starving; we might as well get something to eat.” He swallows, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “You can get as much food as you like, because you know I won’t judge you, even if you order half the menu.”

“Go on,” she says.

“And, um, and you can talk my ear off about cellular biology, and I’ll thank you for it, since I need to study anyway. And if it ends up not working out, we pretend nothing happened and go right back to being friends.”

“Fitz,” she says, and he’s sure that he wants the street to open up and swallow him whole, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He’s never been more relieved in his life. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms. “I only have one condition.”

He looks over at her, and this time, he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“The Outback,” they say in unison.

———————

“Fitz,” she says as they leave the restaurant, “why haven’t we done this already?”

To be honest, he’d been asking himself the same question. This dinner has been just as wonderful as all the dinners they’ve shared, except there was a twinkle in her eyes as she talked and a playfulness in her words.

Except, he notes with pride, this time they left the restaurant arm in arm, with her head on his shoulder.

“Oh look, Fitz, the stars!”

He stops at her command and follows her gaze, agreeing that they are indeed magnificent. But as he turns back to ask her a question and finds himself a breath away from her, all thoughts leave him. He bends down to her as her lips meet him halfway, and surely, this is the most magnificent thing in the universe.

When he pulls back to look at her, she smiles.

“And to think,” she says, “a few hours ago, I was having the worst date of my life.”

He smiles back at her, suddenly bold. “How is this one going?”

She answers by grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again.

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Experiment #2 - Request

Originally requested by @newts-fan-case: So could you do a Sherlock x Reader were she is riding his face? (Lol I’m a sinner but I ain’t sorry) like for an experiment ‘cause Sherlock thinks a person can’t get aroused just by giving pleasure to someone else, but he is wrong and yeah ;) & Anon:  Hi! Can I request a smut one shot with Sherlock where he wants to try have the reader sit on his face and eat her out and she’s shy & a bit self conscious with her body and he makes sure he makes her see Stars (with a little fkuff)? Thank you! Requested by anon:  The "Experiment" was awesome! Can we have a part 2? Pleeeeeaaaaseeee & a shit load of other people.

This is Sequel Friday first winner.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 2,886

Warnings: Smut (unprotected), un-edited, secuel (yup, it’s a warning)

A/N: Amazing way to wrap an amazing week. Thank you to everyone who voted!

Enjoy!

|PART 1|

After Sherlock’s little “experiment”, his relationship with (Y/N) turned somewhat odd. They would continue to work together and act professional during the cases, but the tension between them was too much.

He had showed her a side that not a single human thought existed, or at least didn’t want to see. He had been patient with her, loving even, making sure to make her feel comfortable at all costs, complimenting her, being gentle and respecting her limits… Definitely thing a real gentleman does, but not the kind of traits one would expect from Sherlock Holmes.

Then there was also the fact that John was sensing some change of vibes in 221B. Of course, he figured it had something to do with Sherlock’s usual arse behaviour, but it was weird to see (Y/N) affected by it.

Sherlock was sitting on his seat, Watson was on his and (Y/N) was between them on the “victim’s chair”. Watson had a stern, determined look on his eyes and Sherlock was calm as usual, thinking that John was too dumb to have figured anything about him and (Y/N).

“What is going on?” John asked carefully.

“You sat us here to talk.” Sherlock replied listlessly. John shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

“I mean, what is going on with you?” He asked once more.

“Me?” Sherlock pointed at himself, “Not much, really. I think I had a fever last week but…”

“You know what I mean.” Watson breathed out tiredly. “You have been acting more strange than usual. You’re doctor Strange these days…”

“That was an awful comparison, John.” Sherlock interrupted, “I’m not a doctor, and definitely not a hero.”

“Can you focus for once?” Watson begged, “What is going on?”

Sherlock sighed heavily, knowing that John knew him too well to hide things from him. However, he still wanted to keep (Y/N)’s privacy untouched. He cleared his throat and hesitated to speak.

“Remember that conversation we had about getting aroused by other’s stimulation?” He inquired. John pouted, searching in his memories for that particular conversation.

“Oh yeah.” Watson finally nodded, “What about it?”

“I…” One thing was to say it to (Y/N), who he trusted in ways he didn’t trust anyone else, and another one was to say it to John and ruin his pride. “I was…”

“Say it.” John ordered.

“I was wrong.” Sherlock whispered quickly.

“Yes you were!” Watson cheered, “I told you… WAIT! How do you know you were wrong?”

“I…” Sherlock coughed a little, “I tried it.”

“I’m going to make tea, this is…. Clearly a private conversation.” (Y/N) said as she got up from the chair and walked to the kitchen.

“You tried it?” Sherlock nodded, “With whom? Is Irene miraculously backed from the grave?”

“Don’t be silly, John.” Sherlock shook the thought with his hand, “I tried it with someone else.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you her name.” Sherlock mumbled.

“Oh, so I know her.” Watson snapped. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“It’s privacy matters, John.” Sherlock hissed, “Whether you know her or not won’t matter because it was an experiment and it’s only fair to keep that person’s privacy untouched no matter if no one will go digging…”

“Right.” John interrupted, “At least tell me how is she like.”

“She’s intelligent, a science lover and a real professional.” Sherlock spoke carefully, trying not to let his eyes wander towards (Y/N) who looked incredible in that formal black dress and white blazer – they were planning to go on the case later that evening.

“You hired a prostitute who doubles as a science teacher?” John inquired.

“For God’s sake, John!” Sherlock fumed, “She’s a real lady!”

“I just want to know!” John excused himself.

-

“So… Not a doctor?” John insisted as the cabbie moved through the crowded streets of London towards their destiny.

“No, John, I didn’t sleep with Molly.” Sherlock hissed, “If I had… She would’ve posted it on the papers already.”

“Fair point,” John granted. “You’ve been quiet, (Y/N).”

“You haven’t stopped talking about Sherlock’s adventure so…” She clicked her tongue.

“Right, sorry,” Watson apologized, “I just want to know who…”

“Who would do such things with me? Read your blog’s comments, John, there are many women in the line.” Sherlock snapped sassily.

“And men.” (Y/N) added.

“And men.” Sherlock repeated, giving her a discreet nod that went unnoticed by John.

-

They case, as random as it got, required one of them to jump into a pond to search for the rest of the clues. Apparently, Moriarty wasn’t the only one who liked playing games. Sherlock, as the gentleman he was, decided to be him that jumped to the pond.

“You’re not…” (Y/N) stopped, “Right, you are taking your clothes off.”

Sherlock removed his trousers and shoes, chuckling at how (Y/N) turned away to avoid looking at him. “Don’t be shy,” he joked, “it wouldn’t be the first time you see me naked.” And with that he jumped.

Watson’s face fell into an O as (Y/N)’s face became paler. “YOU!” He exclaimed.

“Oh, John,” she chuckled, “you jump to conclusions so fast… Maybe I walked in to him wrapping his blanket one or…”

“You are one of the very few people Sherlock considers smart.” Watson observed, “He said the girl was smart.”

“That’s why Sherlock is the detective and you…”

“And you helped him with his experiment!”

-

The road back was silent and uncomfortable. Sherlock mumbled a “sorry” but was ignored by (Y/N). Meanwhile, Watson continued to ask all kinds of questions without receiving an answer until he gave up.

The taxi driver left them at 221B.

“It was one time, John!” (Y/N) fumed.

“I know, I just… I didn’t think you were the kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Sherlock hissed standing between (Y/N) and John protectively.

“Kind of person to have sex for the sake of proving a point!” Watson exclaimed.

“She’s a scientist!” Sherlock defended, “Of course she’s that kind of person, but you wouldn’t know!”

“Can we stop talking about this?” (Y/N) begged.

“Of course,” Watson agreed, “Mary should be waiting for me.”

“Right.” Sherlock nodded, “Give her my greetings.”

“Our greetings.” (Y/N) corrected, “Tell her I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Watson took his jacket and walked to the door, but before going out he stopped and gave them one last look. “Just one more question?”

“What?” They groaned.

“Does Mary know about… You?” He inquired. (Y/N) and Sherlock sighed angrily.

“Of course she knows.” Sherlock said.

“Yeah, what kind of people do you think we are?” (Y/N) added.

“Right, so my wife knows and… Good night.” Watson left.

The two of them remained quiet for a few minutes, trying to cool off before actually talking to the other.

“Guess the cat is out.” Sherlock mumbled, trying to break the ice.

“Indeed.” She said, turning to be face to face with him. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking to the floor. The curls of his hair fell messily over his face, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but to imagine how they would look like, bouncing over his forehead as he thrusted into her.

“How are you feeling?” Sherlock asked, dragging her out of her dirty thoughts.

“Sherlock Holmes asking about my feelings, who would’ve thought?” She joked. Sherlock chuckled and looked up at her.

“I care for you.” He confessed in a whisper. (Y/N)’s heart melted. Sherlock gave a few steps forward.

“That doesn’t sound right…” She said, “Are you all right?”

“I’m great.” He said. (Y/N) deleted the distance by taking a step forward. Sherlock’s eyes landed on hers instinctively.

“Good.” She whispered. The tension between them was becoming palpable. They could feel each other’s breath mixing, ghosting over their skin.

Sherlock’s hands reached for her waist carefully, almost like he didn’t want to but at the same time craved to. “A birdie once told me that the best stress reliever was…”

“Do you believe its words?” (Y/N) inquired flirtingly.

“What kind of sane person would trust a bird’s words?” Sherlock joked, making (Y/N) smile.

“I don’t know… Birds know so much…” Sherlock agreed.

“If we were only stressed…” Sherlock insinuated.

“I am stressed.” (Y/N) spoke quickly, “Watson can be annoying at times.”

“I’d say he’s annoying all the time.” Sherlock observed, “But I’d be happy to help you prove the bird’s words.”

His lips found hers within an instant. It was a slow kiss, but at the same time it was hungry and passionate. His hands caressed her back while hers fisted his black shirt. In a rapid movement, Sherlock lifted (Y/N) from the floor and she wrapped her legs around his shoulders. Her high heels fell but none of them cared.

Sherlock moved swiftly to his room with (Y/N) in his arms. Their lips hadn’t stopped touching, not even for a second, and so the detective was walking blindly, which resulted in him crashing against a wall before they reached to the bed.

He placed (Y/N) softly over the sheets. Maybe he was a passionate lover, but his adoration for her made him treat her like a porcelain doll. He then crawled over her, and moved his kisses down to her jaw and neck.

Not a single mark would he leave, her skin was too perfect to hurt it; therefore, Sherlock made sure to leave soft pecks here and there, wanting to do more but at the same time wanting to worship her like the goddess she was to his eyes.

(Y/N) stroked his hair for a little while and then pushed him so they rolled over his back and (Y/N) was on top.

“On top again?” Sherlock chuckled.

“Only to take off my dress.” She winked at him and a glimpse of desire could be seen in his icy eyes. (Y/N) crawled out of the bed, turning her back to Sherlock who soon joined her. She moved her hair out of the way, allowing the detective to unzip her dress.

His movements were slow, calculated, but so loving… He admired each and every inch of skin that slowly got exposed to him. (Y/N) looked back at him, mesmerized by the look on his face – it was her, the cause for that perplex smile.

Once the zipper was down, (Y/N) left her dress to slide down her body, landing on the floor. Sherlock caressed her skin, leaving soft kisses over her shoulder as his hands wrapped around her waist.

(Y/N) turned to be face to face with him and started unbuttoning his shirt. There was no one chasing after them, no one urging them to be quick, so they took their time to love the other.

Sherlock’s skin was ashen against hers, and in that contrast they found each other’s desire. It wasn’t anything that could be explained with words, but rather a feeling, deep down that explained it all.

Sherlock spotted every freckle he could find while she got rid of his trousers. Once they were only in their underwear, they got back in bed.

Another heated kiss was followed by Sherlock’s struggle to get rid of her brassiere – again – and then, Sherlock pushing her back to lay flat in bed. He wanted to be on top that time, and (Y/N) didn’t argue.

He left a trail of kisses all over her skin; wherever his hands touched, his lips were there soon. (Y/N)’s breath hitched once he got close to her centre. Sherlock smiled flirtingly and started slowly pulling her panties down.

From that position, Sherlock could see the lower curve of her breasts and the tip of her nose. Her skin became a desert; smooth and mysterious. It was incredible how he became a poet whenever (Y/N) was around.

She was bare once more. Sherlock recognized her body, for his memories of the past were so vivid it was almost like remembering the lyrics to one’s favourite song. And so he moved back up, leaning closer to kiss her once again.

(Y/N) got rid of his boxers and so their hands explored each other’s bodies in full synchronization. Her eyes were shut, enjoying each and every single touch of Sherlock’s, noticing the goose bumps his contact would leave behind.

On the other hand, Sherlock had his eyes open. He wanted to see her, to carve each curve, edge, freckle… Every detail into his mind. He wanted to remember her, and if he wasn’t a gentleman, he would’ve asked for a picture only to remember her whenever she wasn’t around.

He aligned to her entrance, craving to see if she could take him, if he would be enough to please her. Sherlock would hate himself forever if he left her go home disappointed. (Y/N) could have asked him to jump in that moment and Sherlock would’ve done it gladly only to make her happy.

“Do it.” She begged, “It’s an experiment, remember?” She winked.

Sherlock smiled at her words. Experiment, their ultimate hideout; an inside joke made only for their ears.

He buried himself into her. Slowly, at first, so they could both adjust. She was warm, welcoming and so ready for him… Sherlock couldn’t help but to feel like he belonged with her. (Y/N) moaned slightly as he entered deeper and deeper. He was giving her time, he was allowing her to stop him if she needed – but she didn’t.

Once he was fully in, he gave her a glance that begged for orders. He wanted her to be the one to rule over their little experiment, because, it was her body after all. He didn’t matter, as long as she felt good.

“Move, please.” She whispered softly. Sherlock pulled out and then back in again in a faster motion.

His arms worked as support, one at each side of (Y/N)’s head, careful not to pull her hair accidentally. Her legs framed his hips, and her back was slightly arched. Sherlock continued to move, speeding up with each thrust until he got to a comfortable pace: not to slow, but not too fast either.

(Y/N) was unable to supress her moans, and Sherlock was absolutely thankful for that. The sound of her voice begging, calling his name, made things to him – things he couldn’t explain.

(Y/N) threw her head back as he touched a certain spot. Her jaw clenched for a second before a loud moan escaped her plumped lips. The vision was breath-taking; it was absurd how a simple thing like so made Sherlock’s whole-self swell in joy.

Sherlock made sure to hit said spot over and over for as long as he could. (Y/N)’s hands reached for his neck, pulling the curls at the back of it unconsciously. Sherlock moaned with her as fingers left his hair and dragged from the top of his shoulders to his waist, leaving a trail of red marks along his back.

Her walls clenched tightly against him, taking him by surprise and making him whimper softly at the feeling. (Y/N) mumbled a blasphemy and ordered Sherlock to move faster. He obeyed, of course, and within seconds (Y/N) was panting under him.

Her back was arched in such a way Sherlock could feel her nipples against his bare chest whenever he thrusted back in her. She kept her eyes closed and she was biting her lower lip. She was frantically looking for something to hold onto until her hands reached for Sherlock’s shoulders, and she gripped tightly to him like a castaway holds unto the first rock they find in the sea.

“Sherlock.” She whispered.

“I’m right here.” He managed to say. (Y/N) leaned her head back to the pillow as a cold wave of pleasure aroused her senses. She exclaimed his name in such a way he got triggered as well, hitting his own climax almost at the same time as her.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck and groaned in a deep, raspy voice, calling for her. They convulsed against the other as the wave of pleasure messed their minds like a tsunami. Sherlock held her tightly, as her grip became stronger around his shoulders.

Eventually, it passed, but they remained in the same position. The embrace they had ended up in was too comfortable, too familiar, and they certainly didn’t want to move.

-

“Are you stressed?” Sherlock inquired as he zipped her dress back. She was standing right in front of the tiny mirror in the bathroom; her face was wet and her hair was up in a messy bun.

“Not at all.” She smiled, “I think our experiment succeeded.”

Sherlock smiled back. He finished zipping her and (Y/N) turned to see him directly. He was still naked, but had his blue robe on. (Y/N) had to go home, so she had tried to wash the sweat off just enough for her to use the tube without receiving strange stares from the rest of the passengers.

Sherlock smiled warmly, stroking a lose strand of hair and then her cheek. “That bird was right.”

“What a smart bird.” She giggled, “Looks like this series of experiments are successful each time.”

“Series of experiments?” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow, “I like it.”

“Rest, Mr. Holmes.” She whispered, “There’s still a case to be solved.”

Whatever would happen next would be worth it. (Y/N) was delightful, a splendid being and Sherlock was anxiously waiting for their next experiment.

*Requests are ALWAYS open.*

Masterlist.

Sherlock Tags: @resurrection-huntress @oaisara @charlottemalfoy @zena-dukmak @just-a-blog00 @wefracturedmotivation @beccamullz @newts-fan-case @sugarshai @vancepter

[flatsuke]

Idk if you still take requests but can you do a kbtbb group piece where Mc gets kidnapped and the guys work together to find her? Love your work btw

Title: 99 Reasons Why I’ll Never Be Good Enough For You

Summary: He should’ve answered the phone when he had the chance.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Everyone/MC, mostly Eisuke-centric

a/n: Here it is, anon! I’m sorry this took so long. I normally don’t take any requests, but I liked yours! Also, this is mostly Eisuke-centric, so I hope that’s okay with you lol

             The auctions were once again in full swing. All the itemsBaba put up were the star of the show, and none of the patrons could get enoughof the prized antiques on stage. Every time the zeroes piled up, Eisuke’s smirkgrew wider.

             Good, Eisuke thought. More profit for us.

             His phone buzzed all of a sudden,but he paid it no mind. The auctions were more important than some offhandedphone call. He didn’t even bother taking his phone out of his pocket when hepressed the sleep button to make it stop ringing.

             Whoever was calling him must havebeen pretty insistent because the phone wouldn’t stop ringing even after Eisukeignored it the first time.

             Annoyingbastard. Didn’t this person get the message already?

             Irritated, he turned his phone off.At least he wouldn’t be disturbed anymore.

             “Eisuke, where’s Koro? I’mthirsty,” whined Ota, sprawled across the couch. After the auctions ended on asuccessful note, they all headed to the penthouse to celebrate.

             “I just paged her. She should behere any minute now.”

             “I haven’t seen her today. I didn’teven see her at the I.V.C!” Baba exclaimed.

             “Now that you mention it, SexyBones hasn’t been here all day…” Luke added before mumbling something about “awaste of a perfect bone structure.”

             “Maybe we’ll get answers from herwhen she gets here,” Eisuke concluded. Ihaven’t seen her either, strangely enough.

             Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’tarrived to the penthouse. Eisuke was starting to get impatient. Where the hellwas she? Oh, she was going to get an earful from him later.

             “Strange. Normally, she would’vearrived ten minutes earlier,” Shuichi commented curiously.

             “Cut her some slack. She’s probablyin the bathroom or something. Diarrhea can happen to anyone, ya know,” said ahalf-asleep Mamoru, chuckling slightly.

             Eisuke didn’t pay attention to thevulgar comment. It was probably faster to just call her directly. With a clickof his tongue, he grabbed his phone to dial her number. Before he could inputhis passcode, he was met with an unnerving sight.

              Twelve missed calls. All from her.

             Whatthe hell…? Weird. She almost never called him directly, so seeing a barrageof missed calls was a bit jarring, to say the least. Was this a prank?

             “The number you have dialed iscurrently unavailable,” recited the operator monotonously.

             An unsettling feeling pooledin his stomach. Something wasn’t right.

             “Boss? What’s up? Why do you looklike you broke a nail or something?” Baba asked mischievously.

             Eisuke didn’t have the energy toretort to the joke. “You didn’t see her at all today, right?”

             “No…but what are you getting at?”

             “Aihara, did you see her at work?”Eisuke turned to the younger man. There was a growing urgency in his voice thatthe others could hear.

             “No, I didn’t. I thought she was onsick leave,” Hikaru shrugged back.

             Shedidn’t call in sick today. What’s going on?

             “…If you want, I can go check onher dorm,” Baba suggested. The thief could sense the seriousness in Eisuke’sexpression, and to be honest, he was feeling a bit worried, too.

             Baba left the room immediately. Theothers remained in the penthouse, but the mood changed from celebratory totense.

             No one wanted to admit that theirinitial worry grew worse with each passing second. Eisuke tried to call her,but all he kept receiving in return was the operator’s dull voice. He couldonly hope that his fears were unfounded when Baba came back.

             “Guys!” Baba yelled, slamming thepenthouse door open. “Something’s wrong!” His face was uncharacteristicallypanicked, and he was panting from all the running he did.

             “Spit it out already,” Soryu quipped,not comfortable with the suspense.

             “It’s ____…” Baba gulped heavily.“Her room’s been ransacked and I can’t find her anywhere.”

             They all froze at Baba’sexplanation. Whatever came next—

             “I think she’s been kidnapped,” heconfessed grimly, looking straight into Eisuke’s eyes.

             That was the switch that seteveryone off.

             “Shit! Check the GPS on her phone! Soryu, get the Dragons ready!”

             Soryu wasted no time standing upand calling the Ice Dragons. Meanwhile, Hikaru grabbed his laptop and typed aplethora of commands in lightning speed. The rest of them bolted up and triedto contact her, but to no avail.

             “I can’t pick up anything from herphone,” Hikaru admitted, fists clenched. “It must have been destroyed.”

             “You’re kidding…” Ota uttered. “Isthere anything else we can do to figure out where she is?”

             “Who the hell could even get pastsecurity?” Mamoru inquired, unusually alert.

             “Tch. That doesn’t matter now. Justthink of something already!” Eisuke roared.

             Staycalm, stay calm. I’m going to lose my fucking mind—

              Eisuke,in a frantic attempt to find some sort of answer, scrolled furiously throughhis phone. Through the pile of unread messages, he spotted one from her, sentfour hours ago. There were no words in the message, and all that was sent was ablurry picture of a warehouse by the docks.

              “Aihara!Find out where this place is! And do it quickly!” Eisuke commanded, throwinghis phone at the younger man. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve been a bitmore polite.

              Hikaruskillfully caught the phone. “She sent you this?” he asked Eisuke suspiciously.

              “Justshut up and look for the place already. We don’t have time for this.”

              A fewminutes later, Hikaru managed to trace the address of the photo. Withoutwasting another breath, they all sprang to their feet and hoped they weren’ttoo late.

              Please.

              Gettingto the location was a feat in itself.

             “Do you always drive like a maniac,Ichinomiya!?” Shuichi held onto the armrest of the passenger seat for dearlife. “You almost hit that car!”

             “Look, I don’t give a shit aboutproper driving right now. I just want to get to that warehouse, pronto. If youdon’t like it, you can get the hell out of here.”

             Shuichi only clicked his tongue inreturn. He didn’t want to admit it, but Eisuke was right. They all wanted toget to her as soon as possible.

             “That’s great and all, just makesure we don’t die before we get there!” Ota yelped after Eisuke made a sharpcurve.

             After a few near-death turns andmiraculous luck, they arrived at the docks. Soryu and the Ice Dragons cameimmediately after them, all poised and ready to take orders.

             “Get rid of anyone in the way,”Soryu ordered. He cocked his gun threateningly. “Move!”

             The warehouse itself was abandoned,and thankfully for them, their manpower made it easy for them to burst in thebuilding without having to deal with any obstacles.

             The first thing they heard whenthey made their way inside was a familiar scream of pure agony. There, huddledon the floor, was her bloody, beaten body clutching herself in pain. One of themen surrounding her was about to swing down a baseball bat, which was alreadycovered in blood from earlier use.

             She feebly managed to look at theauction managers’ direction. Very, very weakly, she mouthed something almostimperceptible, yet they all managed to see it.

             Help.

             The triggers, both in their mindsand in their guns, were pulled.

             “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!!”

             The place became a bloodbath fortheir wrath. Soryu’s, Hikaru’s, and Mamoru’s guns all fired one after the otherat the kidnappers. The three of them gave no chance to fight back. All thatcould be heard was the rain of bullets and gunpowder.

             Baba, thanks to the others’diversion, managed to bring her away from the ensuing gunfight. He laid herdown gently for Luke to do first aid.

             “It hurts…it hurts…” she whimperedpitifully. From up close, her injuries looked worse than they seemed. Thebruises on her limbs were beginning to turn blue, and the black eye on herface was swelling. Eisuke watched the whole scene, and his insides lurched atthe sight.

             Thosesons of bitches are going to pay. I’ll make sure of it.

             “It’s okay, Sexy Bones. Everythingwill be okay,” Luke soothed her. “Does your chest hurt?”

             “It hurts…to b—breathe…” She triedto move, but she only flinched in pain when her torso shifted.

             Luke’s eyes flashed with dread. Heturned immediately to Eisuke, who shook himself out of his stupor.

             “Eisuke, call an ambulance. Now. I think she might have broken herribs,” he said with an uncharacteristic gravity.

             Sure enough, Eisuke didn’t thinktwice before dialing the number. He gave her one last look, and he wanted tobeat himself up for letting this happen to her. If only they came sooner. Ifonly he answered his phone—

             “E—eisuke…” she called out to himfeebly.

             “Don’t talk now. Save your energy.”

             “I—I didn’t tell them…anythingabout the—the auctions…” she sputtered before going unconscious.

             Don’ttell me they did this to you for that reason—

             Something in him snapped. He madehis way over to Soryu, who was just about done with the kidnappers.

             “Give me your gun,” Eisuke askedcoldly.

             “What are you—“

             He didn’t bother listening toSoryu’s complaints when he grabbed the gun from its holster. Everyone’s shoutswere mute noise to him as he approached the kidnappers’ fallen bodies.

             They were already riddled withbullet holes from the earlier fight, but Eisuke felt the need to go a stepfurther.

             Cocking the gun once more, he aimedat them.

             “This one’s for her.”

             The next day came, but none of themfelt any better.

             Seeing her lying down on a hospitalbed—unconscious, injured, and jacked with painkillers—did nothing to lift theirspirits. She may have been safe now, but the fact that she was hurt because of themnever left their minds. All they could do was watch her sleep and hope the painwould go away.

             After a few minutes of theircontemplative silence, her eyes fluttered open.

             “G—guys…?” She tried sitting up,but Ota quickly moved to her.

             “Ah, you can’t get up yet, Koro,”he chided, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “The doctor says you have acouple of broken ribs, so you can’t exert yourself.”

             “Oh. I see…” she bit her lipnervously. “Well, in any case, thank you all for everything. I’m sorry forcausing you all trouble. I—I promise this won’t happen again.”

             All of them winced at her apology.Why was she saying sorry when she was the one who suffered? Eisuke, inparticular, felt his skin crawl at every word she said.

             “Princess…” Baba faltered. “Whatare you saying?”

             “Don’t say that, ___…just stopalready…” Hikaru gritted his teeth in frustration.

              She didn’tlike seeing them so upset, so she changed the subject.

              “…I must look like crap, huh?” shelaughed self-deprecatingly. “I don’t think I can go to work looking like this.I guess I can’t make Eisuke’s coffee for a whi—“

              “___,those calls,” Shuichi implored, his eyes wavering. “Were you…trying to call usfor help?”

              Shenervously looked to the side, trying to avoid his gaze.

              “Ah…Icouldn’t think of anyone else to call. A—anyway! It’s fine! It’s not like itwould’ve made any difference if you guys answered. You guys should stopworrying about it—“

              “No, it’snot fine, goddammit!” Eisuke, who wassilent the whole time, suddenly yelled.

              While I was busy counting zeroes at theauction, you were all alone, beaten senselessly by some assholes and for what?For me? For the one person who didn’t even bother to come to you when youneeded me the most?

              “Why are you always likethis?! Why can’t you just get mad and blame us?! Why can’t you just hate me already?!” Eisuke’s voice was cracking,and he didn’t care about the tears that were coming out. So be it if they allsaw him at his weakest point. None of that compared to what she had to go through.

              Soryu walkedup to him and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You should stop,Eisuke. Don’t stress her out.”

              Theothers were all staring at him in awed sorrow. There was no room for smartasscomments when their leader was on the verge of a breakdown. Eventually, they,too, couldn’t hold back their sobs.

              “If—ifwe made it earlier we could’ve—“ he choked.

             “I’m sorry…” she said sadly.

             “Shut up…don’t apologize. Just—justrest and get better,” he sputtered before storming out of the room and awayfrom everyone’s tear-filled gazes.

             At the hospital roof, he had timeto reflect on his own.

             He hated it that she always had toapologize because he knew, better than anyone, whose fault it was that she wentthrough something horrible.

             He was to blame.