#the way nurses are treated in the US is fucking criminal

[renee-mariposa]

I think I would fucking love my job if the corporation I work for wasn’t flagrantly exploiting us employees for shareholder profit

[supersources]

interview with the vampire (2022):  episode 5,  a vile hunger for your hammering heart. tw:  murder, death, abuse, violence, blood, strong language, all vampire things.

* i can't die like this!

* let my dog live.

* it's a kill list in a teenager's handwriting.

* i'm trying to think of something more fucked up than this.

* they'll scale the sides of this building, force their way inside and paint the walls with his blood.

* don't look down on them, look in the mirror.

* he's an opinionated young man, he lives to share these opinions even when they are not solicited.

* what does he taste like?

* i didn't ask that.

* you were thinking it.

* he tastes like honey and pineapple, he stuffs himself for days before he offers himself to me. would you like to sample?

* i care for him more than he cares for himself.

* stay out of my head.

* you wouldn't find the corroboration you're seeking even if you could. we burned, we buried. and a convention city is not motivated to advertise grim statistics.

* i know what i'd do, but you've cut my hands off.

* don't do that, it's private.

* what night is it?

* i couldn't hear you over the tugboat.

* a whole lot of concern has been wasted on you these past months.

* did you read my other ones?

* well, you better hope and pray you taught me how to clean up good.

* you gonna let him do this to me?!

* i've read some passages out loud, i'm afraid. hurtful words for both of your guardians.

* i buried them, okay?! way out of town! nothing out there for miles, no one's ever gonna find them except maybe criminals burying bodies of their own.

* i'm never gonna forget what happened here. i hate you.

* get out of my room!

* you want money?

* i mean, it's always a straight line with you. yes, i am asking for your support in my campaign.

* sounds like there's a maniac on the loose.

* don't be too startled if the police come knocking on your door.

* i was in the middle of cleaning when they knocked.

* you often leave your daughter alone with access to illegal spirits?

* that's my daughter's room!

* oh, i'm getting ready for bed!

* have you lost your goddamn mind? overnight, in a jail cell, with no coffin. we all be dead by morning.

* we do not bring souvenirs into the house!

* so much wine in his blood... and beer, and whisky.

* you wanted her, you fix her!

* do you remember our life, how happy we were before her? an anvil tied around our ankles, pulling us towards the pitch-black ocean floor.

* who am i supposed to love?

* how are you gonna fix it, huh? which one of you is gonna fuck me?

* well, you're not my type, i like a fuller figure.

* if you could find other vampires, which you won't, they would shred you to strips because you are built like a bird, because you are a mistake.

* how about you shut the fuck up?

* he treats us like shit and you take it! why is that?

* you, as cruel as the devil ever made, to refuse me one love when you got two!

* i've been entertaining myself.

* i'll kill her soon.

* don't run off...

* why did you take me home? why not a hospital? maybe i'd have a handsome husband by now, or he'd be plain with a good disposition. that'd be fine too. i'd be sweeping floors, making dinners, nursing babies. maybe i'd go to church... you think on that some.

* i had no words for her, what words were there? "it all happened so fast", "i was trying to save you"... "all vampires are born out of trauma."

* poor dear. she wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.

* look, charlie manson wrote a couple of beautiful songs. still, he was charlie manson.

* is that all you think of her?

* it won't matter what your intentions are... it's the world out there right now.

* once you put it out there, they decide what it is. it can get away from you.

* i won't have her exploited.

* keep reading.

* keep talking.

* assume we are under suspicion. assume our finances no longer provide us protection.

* make your kills outside of the city, one a night. no persons of note... unfortunates, undesirables.

* we should leave the city, start anew, turn a betrayal into an opportunity. new york, chicago, los angeles...

* we should dismantle her room.

* she'll be back.

* there would be no roaring twenties for us.

* we were underground for seven years.

* (name), come home. i know i hurt you. i know i can make it right again.

* little girl... i'm talking to you. now what were you doing in the library? you're not allowed in there.

* i don't talk to strangers.

* you can read?

* just as i thought, a little thief. you're coming with me.

* what are you gonna do after that? after you turn her in, after it makes you feel like a big man, what's your next move, you think?

* you're not allowed to ride one of those on campus.

* this is our school, where is your fighting pride?

* you hungry?

* flaubert's style is so dense. the absence of metaphor is so striking...

* should we make it a night of the two?

* you sound like every pompous sorbonne student i've ever eaten.

* should i do it like you instead? read the first ten pages of every book and pass myself off as cultured?

* well, at least you're listening. i sit there thinking "light yourself on fire, see if he'll notice."

* you draw me into your gloom.

* it's your fault she's gone. if you hadn't pushed her...

* i cannot listen to this insanity about (name) one more time.

* i got to hear my own funeral. only couple dozen people showed up, most didn't have much to say. started talking about the weather a few minutes in.

* poor fella digging my grave lies resting on the family plot.

* what was he like, your maker?

* it ain't like that, he's more like a dad.

* oh, now there's three of us.

* got me wondering what it'd be like, ride with others, hunt in a pack. a little fang gang.

* you got a name?

* you don't kill like a (name), you kill like a killer.

* there are four pages torn out... did she tear them out? didn't seem like something she would do...

* when you do that, when you editorialize, however noble the reasoning, it calls into question all of the other shit you're shovelling my way.

* don't ask again.

* it could be her, but i'm the one who is presently standing in front of you.

* so, if my considerable considerables continue to be squandered...

* hello? oh, sorry... no, it's good to hear your voice.

* we're headed north... crash cleaned us out. and don't offer, 'cause i'm not asking.

* you look good.

* don't need that either, (name). or... whatever you are that took my (name).

* i prayed myself old, begging what to do about you. god never talked back, so... this is how it has to be, for me, for my family. you understand?

* i've come to apologize, i put you both in a bad spot. i wasn't right in my head... i am now.

* apology not accepted.

* so, quick stop home to do laundry before you fuck off for good?

* perused a few folklore anthologies and now you're going to cross the ocean to take on a society of monsters?

* if what i've read is lies, then tell me what's true.

* seven years and what's changed other than you need a housekeeper?

* the vampires out there are vicious... oh, but you know that already. who did you meet out there?

* that's it, keep 'em scared. that's his way.

* we took her life from her. we cursed her.

* come with me! come with me, (name)!

* i thought i could live without you but i was wrong.

* his love is a small box he keeps you in. don't stay in it!

* a thousand nights of sulking, and the first sight of her you're just gonna up and leave me?!

* please, come with me! let's be vampires worthy of your love!

* i fought myself a million times, fought my nature, controlled my temper... i never once harmed you.

* let him go... he didn't do nothing. it's me you want.

* i have patiently waited in vain for you to love me as i love you. just say it... i'm never going to love you. it would help me a great deal to hear that from your lips... your quivering, hateful lips.

* let go of me.

* anything for you.

[thisissite]

Am I having a genre crisis or is it burnout? Yeah, two posts and I’m already feeling bad. Well. Go ahead. Also fucking ovulation.

Will you let me skip back in time? I promise I will come back, but now I need to write exactly this, I don’t know why.

I had just turned 13, was baptized and became a full member of the Baptist Church. I made my best friend there. How awesome she is. Can't convey it to you. On the one hand, she seemed like such a bitch to me, but at the same time super kind. But at some point I wanted her to be happy so much that I wrote to her anonymously. Then a site was popular where you could anonymously ask questions, and I started flirting with her under a man’s name. Let's say my name was Steve back then (of course not that, but still). I had a prototype of a guy with whom I was thinking of setting her up, he was a childhood friend of my older brother. Oh yes, my friend is 3 years older than me, so he was perfect for her age. It all started with one question and developed into the fact that she already wanted to communicate on social networks and not anonymously. And I decided to create a page on a social network. Name: Steven, but I didn’t put up a photo then, if I’m not mistaken, and started communicating with her, from a fake. I liked getting to know her, but I didn't like lying. At some point I went into a wild frenzy. By the way, I almost immediately told her that Stephen and I had known each other almost since birth. So we talked for a month... two months... And I really got sick, I had a sore throat and a constant fever, my mother tried to treat me with something, but it couldn’t be cured, every day I could open my mouth less and less, but I did not leave church service and with a temperature of 38-39 I went almost every day and worked at the mixing console to conduct all the events. Then my relatives (on my mother’s side) decided to treat me with wine therapy. This is when you take the wine that my grandfather makes and gargle with it - it didn’t help. They forced me to do the same thing with cola - it didn’t help. Later I started gargling with hydrogen peroxide, it was painful, but I was taught that if it hurts, then it’s good - the germs are killed. In the end, because of her, I stopped feeling the taste of food and went to the emergency room. There the doctor told me that I needed to do an autopsy, but I only knew post-mortem autopsies and fell into hysterics. They reassured me that pus had accumulated in my throat and they would open it. So I was admitted to the hospital. This was not the first time. By that time, I was already a regular client of the hospital. Every six months for 2-3 months I lay there due to strange fainting spells. But we're talking about something else. I was lonely and wrote to a friend on behalf of Stephen, encouraging her to visit me. She couldn’t, although she studied 10 minutes from the hospital and sent her classmate to me. Maria. She seemed like a deity to me. I don’t know how to describe my emotions, but... After her first visit, I felt that this was my person and that I wanted her to be in my life. We met her on the stairs in the hospital and talked there for probably 2 hours. She brought me food from McDonald's, the taste of which I could not taste, but at the same time it seemed to me that I somehow began to feel life differently when I communicated with her. After 3 hours of her visit, a nurse found us and said that it was time for us to leave before we were found. Yes, it was illegal to visit for so long. Realizing this, I asked if she had anything to read, and after rummaging in her purse, she found criminal law. I was incredibly happy, even though I wasn’t interested in legal stuff. I took her out the back door and wrote to her on Stephen's behalf. Idiot. It hurt me that I couldn’t hit on her, because this doesn’t happen for a girl to be with a girl. And then I thought about one day having sex reassignment surgery so that I could approach her and it would be right. I was sad about becoming a guy, but she was worth it. In the meantime, I'm a girl, I can only correspond as Steven.

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  an  assortment  of  dialogue  prompts  for  various  crime  /  mafia  /  detective  /  criminal  underworld  scenarios.  trigger  warning  for  dark  themes.  feel  free  to  change  as  you  seem  fit.  )

❛ i always get paid in the end, one way or another. ❜

❛ maybe you just need someone to tell you what to do. ❜

❛ i don’t think you fully understand the situation you’re in. ❜

❛ rule one: don’t get caught. ❜

❛ i do what people pay me to do. ❜

❛ consider this a professional courtesy. ❜

❛ i want us to be friends. i want us to trust each other. ❜

❛ you thought you could just fuck with us, and we wouldn’t fuck with you? ❜

❛ can we just exchange three words without you pulling a gun on me? ❜

❛ the detective’s life isn’t an easy one. but it rarely lacks for excitement. ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ tell me, what was life like on the other side? ❜

❛ so, to what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ how many fights have you been in this week? ❜

❛ you want a silencer pistol? sure, if one’s on sale. ❜

❛ go ahead. you might as well finish the job. ❜

❛ can i at least buy you a drink? ❜

❛ you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up. you know that, right? ❜

❛ we’re not all savages here, sweetheart. ❜

❛ the only thing that’s gonna keep you safe in this world is that gun. ❜

❛ i’ll teach you something about punishment. ❜

❛ do we have your allegiance or not? ❜

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ you wanted the truth. i've given it to you. it's up to you what you do with it. ❜

❛ you’re playing nurse to a killer, you know. ❜

❛ this your idea of laying low? ❜

❛ looks like you could use a bodyguard. ❜

❛ you look great. like a million bucks of real money. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ drink all you want, but we need to stay focused. ❜

❛ you’re like a cockroach i can’t kill. i mean it in a good way. ❜

❛ you eat, or you get eaten. animals call it survival. humans call it business. ❜

❛ i could teach you how to fight, but i wasn’t equipped to take care of you. ❜

❛ i wanted to hurt them for the way they hurt you. ❜

❛ no one’s worth a bullet between the eyes. ❜

❛ may i have my gun back? ❜

❛ who taught you how to do that? ❜

❛ i’m gonna make you an offer. one time only. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ you still have to keep up appearances. ❜

❛ the bodies he buried laid the foundation of what we are now. ❜

❛ imagine how quickly you can succeed if you just take what you want. ❜

❛ that wasn’t a punch. if i’d punched you, you’d be on the floor. ❜

❛ the choice to live an ordinary life is no longer an option for me. ❜

❛ i need you to focus on this case. not on me. can you do that? ❜

❛ you’re still an honest person. it’s the rest of the world that’s gone crooked. ❜

❛ all you need to do is exactly what i tell you to do. ❜

❛ i’ve done things i’m not proud of. i’ve hurt people and i’m going to hurt more. ❜

❛ blood money buys the best art. ❜

❛ everyone who ever helped me is dead. i don’t want that to happen to you. ❜

❛ i don’t kill people. not even scumbags like you who deserve it. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ you’re not very good at retiring. ❜

❛ remember who the real enemy is. ❜

❛ you’re one of us now. nobody ever tell you that? ❜

❛ i’m the lucky one who pulled you out of the garbage. ❜

❛ if it were up to me, you would’ve been dead a long time ago. ❜

❛ everyone in that room has lived far worse than anything you’ve ever done. ❜

❛ if you’re doing it to help someone, doesn’t that make it okay? ❜

❛ you don’t get to be at the top without making enemies looking to tear you down. ❜

[lacontroller1991]

Burnt Skies (Rick Flag x Fem!Reader)

@h-hxgirl​

Requested by Anon: Saw this captain boomerang fanfic where he finds she's pregnant while they're on mission, I was wondering if you could maybe do something similar for Rick

Author's Note: He would be so protective of the reader fr fr, also this is gonna be angst angst angst so just beware

Warning: Death, pregnancy, language, blood, major character death, spoilers

“Hey (Y/N), you ready to go?” Rick’s voice echoed through the room before he halted, seeing you on the floor, head in the toilet.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” you replied weakly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and flushing the toilet.

“Are you sure? Are you feeling alright?” He asked, rubbing your back as you looked up at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you there,” nodding his head, he walked out the door with guns strapped to his body on his tac vest. Looking at your reflection, you noticed a slight greenish tint to your face. Ignoring the wave of nausea, you made your way out of the base and to the plane. Walking up the ramp, you took a seat next to Rick who looked at you with concern in his brown eyes.

“Baby, maybe you should sit this one out. You aren’t looking too hot,” he whispered in your ear as you brushed the notion off. After all, you did have a really bad gut feeling about this mission.

“I’m here. I’m going,” you stated firmly as he looked you over one more time before shrugging his shoulders, knowing it was of no use to argue with you.

----------

The plane ride was hell. With the criminals being loud and Harley’s non stop chatter accompanying your periodic bouts of nausea, you were ready to get the hell off of the plane and right into combat.

“Alright guy, get ready to drop,” Rick shouted as the cargo door opened to reveal water beneath you. Once he gave the signal, you jumped into the cool water and began to swim your way to the mainland, waiting for the rest of the team to catch up to you. After everyone, save for the Weasel, had made it to the shore, you glanced over to your boyfriend who was laying next to Harley.

“Hey guys, it’s me. I’m the guy who called you and I brought my friends,” Blackguard shouted into the open, raising his hands while ignoring the shouts coming from the rest of the team and your boyfriend, Waller’s distant cursing ringing in your ear. Next thing you know, there was gunfire in every direction and things went to chaos. You quickly sought shelter behind a rock and shot off a few rounds into the woods, hoping to take down some of the Corto Maltese soldiers. “(Y/N), watch out,” Rick shouted at you as you turned to see what he was talking about, but it was too late before a large piece of debris from one of the trees knocked you out cold.

You woke up to machines attached to your body. Feeling the bile rise in your throat, you tried to get out of the restraints and look for a place to dump the contents of your stomach. Suddenly a pan was placed in front of you and that was all you needed to release the bile. Groaning at the light, you looked around the room and was surprised to see a cleanish room which plenty of nurses occupied.

“Ah good, you’re awake,” a voice commented as a rough hand pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at one of the generals you were tasked to take out.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” You asked, squirming your body against the bed, trying to loosen some of the restraints.

“Mi amore, we are treating you. Seems you have caught a parasite,” he replied before summoning the nurse over to you, carrying a plate of food and some juice, “you’re government must really be struggling if they’re sending pregnant women into the field,” he mentioned as your blood ran cold.

“That’s impossible,” muttering to yourself, your head went fuzzy at the concept of you being pregnant. With Rick’s kid.

“On the contrary, when we brought in your friend and you, we noticed certain things,” motioning down to your stomach only brought awareness to the fact that you were practically naked in a room full of the enemy.

“Let me go,” you pleaded, pulling your arms as much as you could.

“I think not,” he replied before nodding to one of the nurses who moved to turn on a machine and attach it to your head. Screams of agony soon left your lips, blocking out the sudden spurts of gunfire in the halls.

----------

Harley laughed maniacally as she gunned down multiple soldiers, enjoying the way they were dropping to the floor. She needed to get out of there. She needed to find the others. After the last one dropped to the floor, she moved toward the door before hearing a piercing scream echo down the hallway.

“Sounds like someone’s having fun,” she ran her tongue against her teeth before skipping toward the scream. Slamming open the door, she raised the guns in her hand, ready to fire, until she saw you laying on the table surrounded by nurses.

“No one messes with Flag’s girl,” she muttered to herself before unloading the magazine in the room. All of the nurses slinked to the ground, covered in a pool of their own blood. Rushing over to you, Harley unstrapped the restraints and head piece before taking out the IV and looked for your clothes.

“Where the hell are ya clothes?” She asked, searching high and low before she found a bag filled with your bloody uniform. Helping you sit up, she noted the way you looked super frail but practically glowing at the same time.

“Harley,” you whispered out to her before passing out on her shoulder. “Awww, this would be really cute if not for the circumstances,” she stated out loud to herself, peering out of the window and seeing a guy in a helmet run across the street with Flag. Wait a minute, Flag! Running out the door, she ran around the corner before stopping in front of the two men.

“Hiya guys! What’s up?”

“We’re here to save you, is (Y/N) with you?” Rick asked with hope in his voice as Harley nodded, wrapping pale fingers around his wrist and dragging him back inside and through the pile of bodies she had claimed. At the sight of you, Rick ran to your side and hugged your limp body.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked, fighting the tears that were beginning to surface.

“Don’t worry puddin’, she’s just asleep,” shrugging her shoulders, she left the room as you stirred, fluttering your eyes open.

“Rick?” You questioned as he rapidly nodded his head, placing kisses all along your face.

“Thank God you’re ok. I thought I lost you.”

“Rick, the doctors found something,” memories of the conversation you had moments ago replayed in your brain. You’re pregnant.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, mind still not comprehending the fact that you were pregnant. After all, you had been infertile most of your life. Avoiding his gaze, you waited for his response.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to be a dad,” he whispered, causing your head to snap up and see a smile play against his face.

“You want this? I don’t know if it’ll carry to term. You know that I’m infertile.” Placing his lips against yours, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you as close as he could to his body. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed back before a throat clearing interrupted you.

“This is sweet and all, but we have a fucking monster to kill,” DuBois stated as you looked up at Rick who smiled.

“Stay here, I’ll come back and get you.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” you replied as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re pregnant. No way in living hell am I gonna allow you to do this. You’ll stay here and that’s an order,” you and he both hated when he had to pull his rank, but you realized it was necessary in cases like this.

“Just come back to me,” pulling his lips down against yours for what feels like the last time, you encoded this moment into your brain, remembering the way he tasted.

“For you? Always.”

----------

He should’ve known you were going to follow them into Jotunheim. Not only were you stubborn, but you still had that nagging feeling that something was going to happen. Sneaking past the military, you found a window and busted it open with your elbow before entering the building. Landing with a soft thud, you looked around the room and noticed Peacemaker going down a dark tunnel. Running after him, you made sure to stay hidden by the numerous pillars. Peering around the corner, you saw Ratcatcher standing next to Rick, however Peacemaker was pointing a gun at Rick.

“Nobody is saying what they did was right,” Peacemaker stated, hand unwavering.

“They experimented on children!” Rick yelled as more explosions went off in the distance.

“That information gets out and it causes an international incident. Keeping the peace is worth any price, including the life of a hero like yours, sir, so please. Don’t make me do this,” your stomach churned. You knew that Captain America wannabe was no good, and now your love might just pay the price. Suddenly, rocks collapsed all around you, obscuring your view of Rick and Peacemaker.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, picking up rocks and trying to make a hole for you to get your body through. Your efforts became faster the more you heard the two men grunting. After successfully digging a hole big enough for you, you crawled through as you heard something like porcelain shatter and choking.

“You mother fucker,” Rick stated through gritted teeth as you watched in slow motion, Peacemaker’s hand grasping a large shard.

“Rick!” You shouted out before tackling him off Christopher’s body, not getting out of the way soon enough as Peacemaker lodged the porcelain into your lower abdomen. “No!” Rick shouted as Peacemaker threw you off. In the distance somewhere, you heard a gun go off before hands wrapped around your body. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” Rick called to you but you couldn’t hear him, your mind venturing off.

----------

The sun lit your face through the blinds, dancing in your eyes and creating a multitude of hues, a warm body pressed against you.

“Morning sweetheart,” voice deep from slumber, Rick rubbed his eyes as he let out a yawn. Stretching in bed before your 5 year old daughter came running into the room.

“Mommy, daddy. It’s Christmas!” She squealed excitedly, waking up the baby that was next door.

“Yeah it is baby, you excited for your presents?” You asked as she rapidly nodded while Rick slid out of the bed.

“I’ll go grab little Digger,” he commented, kissing your forehead and your daughter’s head. Getting up, you went to grab a coffee before the doorbell rang. Moving to open it, you saw Harley’s painted face waiting for you with Nanaue, Cleo, Robert and Abner carrying presents.

“Merry Christmas dollface,” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug before running off to see her god daughter.

“Come in guys,” you motioned for them to enter as Rick rounded the corner, your 10 month old in his arms.

“So this is the little guy, huh?” Cleo asked as Sebastian waved a hand at the newborn, earning giggles from the baby.

“Yep, Digger Anthony Flag, meet your family,” Rick lifted up the baby’s arm, making him wave to everyone.

“I’m proud of you guys,” Robert commented, slapping a hand on Rick’s back as everyone shuffled into the living room, Nanaue taking up most of the space.

“Thanks man, it wouldn't have happened without you.”

“Alright, everyone ready for presents?” You asked the room with Harley by your side, Harleen in her arms. Rick placed Digger in Cleo’s arms before walking up to you and bringing you into his side.

“I love you, Mrs. Flag.”

“And I you, Mr. Flag.”

----------

Groaning, you felt an excruciating pain in your abdomen and a feeling of loss?

“(Y/N), baby, you’re awake,” his tired voice resonated in your ear as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his hand not leaving yours.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you commented as he sniffled, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to escape.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he noted, petting your hair and placing another kiss on your forehead.

“And leave our kid without a father? I don’t think...”, realization dawned on you at that moment. The sudden feeling of loss and the pain in that general area washed over you as you began crying. “Oh God, the baby is gone, isn’t it?” You asked through tears as he let a couple slip down his face, nodding and trying to smile through the pain. Choking back a sob, you turned your face away from him as tears continued to fall.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. Shaking your head, you refused to meet his hazel eyes, “(Y/N), look at me.” Turning your head, your eyes locked onto his as he continued to smooth down your hair.

“We’re alive. We’re both alive. That’s all that matters,” he replied, crawling into the hospital bed with you and pulling you against his chest as you cried into his shirt.

“What if I never get pregnant again?”

“We will. I’ll make sure of it. I’m done with the fucking task force. Waller can find someone else to puppet. But I’m done. You’re done. We’re gonna get married and have a nice house. I’ll get a new job and we’ll figure it out. I promise.” Kissing the top of your head, he wrapped his arms around you as you calmed down.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest as he hugged you closer.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Author’s Note: Well this was way longer than I intended it to be. But hope you enjoy!!

[plainbrunettelbl]

ABO HC How (A) Todoroki, (A) Bakugo, and (A) Hawks would react to finding the (O) Reader held hostage:

Word count: 3199

Warnings: Cursing, violence, mentions of blood, and assault.   

Title: ABO HC How (A) Todoroki, (A) Bakugo, and (A) Hawks would react to finding the (O) Reader held hostage:

Summary: Your Alpha walks in on you being tied to a chair and he is not happy. 

Prologue: 

You had been a well-kept secret from the public. No one knew that your famous Pro Hero Alpha was courting an Omega or even in a long-standing relationship. Your Alpha was too paranoid about your safety to let any of the news outlets find out about your existence.  

You supposed it would have been beneficial for the public to know now that you were in this situation. Surely if the villains knew they would come across an Omega, resting in their nest, they wouldn't have tried to rob the Pro Hero’s house. 

You put up quite the fight once you smelled unfamiliar Alphas near your nest. One hard knock to your head had you subdued. You didn’t dwell over your quick loss considering one Alpha was nursing his swollen balls. 

You got in one good kick before the painful hit fell on your head. 

Now here you sat, tied to a chair, while the robbers argued with each other and what they should do now.

Shoto: 

🧊🔥-“I told you we should have checked the place out before we robbed it! I would have never tried to rob the place if I had known a freaking Omega was here!” The brunette Alpha growled, glaring at his blond friend. 

🧊🔥-“What’s the big deal? So what if the little icy-hot freak has a girlfriend? We will be out of here before he even comes home.” The blond scoffs, shoving expensive silverware and china into his black bag. 

🧊🔥-“You should know how Alpha’s get around their Omegas! He is gonna hunt us down! I don’t want a Pro Hero on my ass.” The brunette seethed, glaring at the goose egg on your head. “Especially since you decided to hit the poor thing! We will be lucky if he doesn’t skin us alive!”

🧊🔥-“The bitch hit me in the balls! Of course, I thumped her one on the head, serves the Omega slut right!” The blonde huffed, sick of hearing his partner complain instead of ransacking the place. 

🧊🔥-“Mmh.” You mumbled, your eyes blinking open to a fuzzy view. 

🧊🔥-“Fucking shit! They’re waking up! I’m not dealing with a weepy Omega.” The brunette cursed, going into Shoto’s office to avoid the whole situation altogether. 

🧊🔥-“Well, if it isn’t Miss nut-cracker.” The blond chuckled darkly, walking over to your tied up frame.

🧊🔥-You didn’t back down and just glared at the dumb fool. 

🧊🔥-“Aren’t too smart, are you? What type of shitty criminal robs a Pro Hero? Dumb ones, that’s what.” You spit, narrowing your blurry eyes at him. 

🧊🔥-No doubt you would need to go to the doctor after this whole ordeal. Not like you would have a choice. You were sure even if they didn’t lay a hand on you that Shoto would have insisted on one. 

🧊🔥-“You dumb little bitch!” The blond lifted his ring covered hand to hit you again. You tried not to flinch as it came down to strike you. 

🧊🔥-The brunette stood in the office doorway, his bag filled with expensive clocks and other expensive desk items. 

🧊🔥-“I got everything in the office. Did you...” The brunette didn’t get to finish his sentence. 

🧊🔥-The front door was busted open. Shoto had smelled two Alphas on the other side of the door and he was not pleased. He was even less pleased when the door slammed open to reveal his battered Omega tied to a chair. 

🧊🔥-His mismatched eyes turned dark. The temperature in the room both dropped and elevated at the same time. His tired body was instantly filled with murderous intent. 

🧊🔥-A loud growl shook the room. 

🧊🔥-How DARE they lay a hand on their Omega! His vision tinted red and his fangs dropped. 

🧊🔥-“This will only take a minute, Y/N. I’ll take out this trash.” He calmly said, his tone was so cold you felt yourself shiver even knowing his silent rage wasn’t directed at you.

🧊🔥-“Yes, Alpha.” You responded, making sure voice quivered a little. You may have been glaring right back at the intruders before he came but you wanted them to suffer so you played the scared Omega role. 

🧊🔥-They lost your sympathy as soon as they pulled you from your nest. 

🧊🔥-The robbers, who were frozen in fear by the intimidating Alpha’s entrance, shuffled into action. 

🧊🔥-The brunette was quick to give his partner up. “He hit her, not me!” He said, before running down the hall, looking for a way to escape. 

🧊🔥-“You fucking asshole!” The blonde shouted, trying to run out of the room as well. 

🧊🔥-He didn’t get far, ice trapped his feet and his lower body soon followed. Shoto made sure to form it in a way that sharp icicles tore at his skin if he so much as moved half an inch. 

🧊🔥-He wanted to shoot an icicle into his leg for good measure but he didn’t feel like cleaning up blood off his floor. He wished to burn the skin off his bone but you had forbidden him from using fire in the house. 

🧊🔥-He had accidentally caught one of your favorite blankets on fire and was banned for life. 

🧊🔥-“We didn’t know she was here! If we had known we wouldn’t have come!” The blond groveled, panicked at the feral look in Shoto’s eyes. 

🧊🔥-“You could have left after you saw my Omega was here, but you stayed and decided to hit her too. You should be lucky I didn’t just kill you on the spot.” He growled, cutting the blond’s cheek just a bit with an ice shard. 

🧊🔥-The blond just whimpered and passed out. Shoto was quick to hunt down the other and give him the same treatment. He had made it out of the house so he was pleased to release his burning anger out on him. 

🧊🔥-Once they were out of the way, Shoto ran to your side and burning away the binds holding you down. 

🧊🔥-“Are you okay, my Dove?” His voice was soft, his cold hand going up to your head and trying to soothe the aching bump. 

🧊🔥-“Yes, I’m just a little dizzy. Everything’s a little fuzzy right now.” You leaned into his gentle touch. 

🧊🔥-“I’ll call someone to deal with those two. Let’s get you to the hospital, my Dove.” He hurriedly lifted you and carried you to his car. He treated you like glass when he sat you down in the passenger seat. 

🧊🔥-You leaned your head against the cold window as he dashed around to the driver’s side. Your head hurt too much to look out the window so you kept your eyes closed. 

🧊🔥-Your Alpha made sure you didn’t accidentally slip asleep. 

🧊🔥-You let out a small whine when a thought crossed your mind. 

🧊🔥-“Alpha my nest is gonna smell like them.” You sniffed, opening your teary eyes to look at him. 

🧊🔥-Shoto’s hands went white on the wheel, his face contorted into a snarl. He couldn’t wait to visit them again at the station. He had friends there that wouldn’t hesitate to turn a blind eye. 

🧊🔥-His anger instantly simmered when his eyes met your glassy ones. 

🧊🔥-“Don’t worry, Little Dove. I’ll buy you more. We can even go shopping at that blanket store you like so much.” He assured, taking one hand off the wheel and clasping it in yours. 

🧊🔥-Your eyes lit up. “Really! It’s kinda expensive though, I don’t need new ones. I am sure we can find some nice second-hand ones.” You squeezed his hand, bring it up to your lips to place a kiss on it. 

🧊🔥-Your exhausted brain choosing to ignore the specks of blood on his hand. 

🧊🔥-“My Dove, what have I said about me spending money on you?” He gently reprimanded, his eyes still soft. 

🧊🔥-“Accept it and say thank you.” You repeated without delay. 

🧊🔥-“Exactly, I won’t hear any more about it.” He ended the discussion, his eyes focusing back on the road while his hand remained in your grasp. 

🧊🔥-If your head wasn’t killing you, you would have been bouncing in your seat. “I can’t wait! They are coming out with some pretty fall blankets soon! Oooh! We have to get some cute Halloween ones too!” 

🧊🔥-“Anything you want.”

Bakugo:

💥-“Why did you have to hit them!? Ground Zero is gonna come after us now!” The brunette cried, desperately holding ice to your head in hopes that the bump on it would go away. 

💥-“Shut up! Get back to robbing the damn place instead of taking care of the freaking Omega.” The blond hissed, throwing a plate at the panicked Alpha. 

💥-You sat back in the chair not knowing how to process the situation. You knew dating a Pro Hero was dangerous but you thought villains would be your main concern, not petty burglars. 

💥-“If you leave now and don’t take anything, I’ll tell him I tripped and fell.” You wouldn’t, but they didn’t know that. 

💥-“See! Let’s just leave. We can go rob some other place.” The brunette pleaded, already trying to untie you. 

💥-The Omega in you wanted to feel bad for the whining Alpha but then you remembered he messed up your nest when he dragged you out of it. You Omega was fuming. 

💥-I just got the nest just right! She huffed, pacing around in your head.  

💥-She didn’t seem threatened by the Alphas in the room. She knew her Alpha was coming home any minute and he would take care of them. 

💥-You, on the other hand, was slightly panicking now that the situation sunk in. Katsuki was gonna rip them to shreds. You Omega was already smugly licking her paws at the image, while you shuddered at the thought. 

💥-“You should go. I don’t want to be mopping up your blood all night.” You urged, looking anxiously at the door. 

💥-“See! We need to go!” The brunette cried, trying to tug his friend towards the door. 

💥-“Shut up! We can leave once we get everything valuable.” The blonde growled, shoving off his partner. 

💥-The jiggle of keys at the door made everyone in the room stop and hold their breath. The doorknob turned and the door was pushed open. You looked at the chair you were tied to, the robbers, and back at the door. 

💥-There was no way to play off the situational. I don’t want to be mopping up blood. You whined, praying your Alpha wasn’t going to go too berserk.  

💥-“Hey, Spit-fire! I got us, your favorite curry you were wanting. I made sure to get it extra spicy.” He walked in carrying a bag of takeout. 

💥-He paused in the doorway once he got a whiff of unfamiliar Alphas in the house. His ruby eyes viewed the scene before him. He growled at the sight of the two Alphas. 

💥-From your point of view, his eyes didn’t look red anymore with how big his pupils dilated at the presence of Alphas near his Omega. His hand instantly dropped the food to the floor. 

💥-The sound of the bag hitting the floor heightened the tension. 

💥-His fangs instantly dropped when his nose picked up a faint coppery smell, his eyes zeroed in on the small trail of blood on your head. The growl that ripped through his chest shook the room. 

💥-“Alpha, please, no blood in the house.” You pleaded, shifting against the ties holding you in place. 

💥-“No promises, Omega.” His voice was so dark that you didn’t even recognize it. 

💥-“The brunette didn’t hit me. He even tried to ice it. Go easy on him.” You said, knowing his control was waning. 

💥-The veins on his neck looked ready to pop, his arms straining to hold themselves still and not plummet the Alphas standing before him. He eyed the patio door that was pushed open, most likely where they entered in from. 

💥-That would solve the blood problem. 

💥-He grinned viciously, “How about we take this outside?”

💥-He rushed the two Alphas, grabbing them by the backs of their necks and throwing them out of the house and over the balcony. He laughed darkly as he followed them, jumping from the balcony. 

💥-You wiggled free from your restraints and made your way to the front door, you picked up the takeout bag and brought it to the kitchen. 

💥-“Suki will be hungry after beating those two up.” You hummed, making him a plate and then making yourself one. 

***

💥-“Is the water too hot?” His voice was raspy from all the yelling he did earlier. 

💥-You sat with your back leaning against his chest in the bathtub. The warm water and the heat of your Alpha calmed your stressed body. Being tied to a chair was as comfortable as it looked. 

💥-“It’s fine, Alpha.” You hummed, delicately washing his bruised and bloody hands. 

💥-“I’m sorry, I wasn’t here sooner Omega.” You smelled a hint of sadness in his scent. 

💥-“Don’t worry, Alpha. I knew you were coming. I wasn’t scared one bit.” You reassured, bringing his hand up and planting delicate kisses on it. 

💥-“My strong Omega,” he purred, nuzzling his nose into your hair. He flinched when he picked up the faint smell of another Alpha. He snapped up the bottle of shampoo and poured half the bottle on your head. 

💥-“Got to get this disgusting scent off you, Omega.” He growled, gently scrubbing your scalp. 

💥-“Alpha! That shampoo is fifty bucks!” You gasped, picking up the half-empty bottle. 

💥-“I’ll buy you another one.” He assured, rinsing of the soapy suds and giving your head another sniff. 

💥-“Much better.” He hummed, pulling you tighter against his chest. 

Hawks: 

🍗-“You shouldn’t be here.” You whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself, the ties preventing you from doing so. 

🍗-“Why the fuck did you have to hit them? You know I can’t handle weeping Omegas, my Alpha hates it.” The brunette growled, trying to awkwardly pat your arm. 

🍗-You winced away from his touch, another Alphas touch was too repulsive. You felt your skin crawl as his fingers grazed your arm. The thump on your head making you more nauseous than you already were. 

🍗-“So what if your Alpha is a pussy. Unlike you mine enjoys their cries.” The blond smiled at the tears dripping down your face. “The bitch deserved it anyways.”  

🍗-“Whatever.” The brunette scoffed, rolling his eyes and going back to robbing the place. 

🍗-“You guy’s really shouldn’t be here...” You tried to warm them but you were too late. The door creaked open, your heart warming and racing at the sound. You knew it would be a bloodbath once Kei realized what was going on. 

🍗-“Baby bird! I hope you are already in comfortable clothes, I’m ready to cuddle in our nest.” His soothing voice causing you to relax in the chair. 

🍗-“Alpha.” You cried, your head still throbbing. 

🍗-The silence was enough to tell you he spotted the two Alphas in the room. 

🍗-“Omega.” He growled, his eyes bleeding red, the sight of blood trailing down your head sent him into a frenzy. 

🍗-His wings puffed out, the room suddenly flooded with crimson feathers. You felt two feathers sailing your way and cutting the bonds holding you. You swiped them up in your grip and clutched them to your chest. 

🍗-The soft texture of them calming you down some. 

🍗-A feral roar sounded throughout the room. You ignored the harsh thumps coming from behind you, the sound of one of the robber’s heads getting bashed into your kitchen counter made you wince. 

🍗-You wanted to get up and get away from everything but your body was in shock and it wouldn’t let you do anything but clutch the crimson feathers to your chest. Your other hand was rested on your stomach. 

🍗-You tried to warn them. Nothing was more dangerous than someone harming a pregnant Alphas mate. You were still pretty early along so they might not have been able to smell it in your scent. 

🍗-You Alpha was sure able to, the instant he got a small whiff of it he was chirping happily against your stomach. You had a hard time getting out of his ruby wings that day. 

🍗-“You DARE harm my mate and chick!” You felt the pure rage behind his words. 

🍗-The blond was already passed out on the floor, his front teeth knocked out. The brunette was about to pass out with him, your Alpha choking him with his shirt. He made sure to use his feather to cut up his arms and face. 

🍗-His wings behind him puffing up and flapping angrily.

🍗-“Didn’t know...” The brunette slurred, his head bashed in as much as his friend’s head. 

🍗-If they wanted to hit his Omega on the head then he was all too pleased to return the favor. The brunette finally succumbed to his injures and blood loss, he went slack in Kei’s hands. 

🍗-Kei dropped him to the grown without care. 

🍗-“Pathetic.” He hissed.  

🍗-His head snapped up in your direction once he heard your tiny sniffles. He was at your side in an instant. 

🍗-“Oh, baby bird.” He cooed, lifting you from the chair and wrapping his arms and wings around you. 

🍗-“Alpha, I told them to leave.” You whined, snuggling into his chest. 

🍗-“I know, baby bird.” He soothed, breathing in your scent, checking on the baby chick in your belly. They seemed well. He was still gonna fly you to the hospital. He made his way to the balcony outside and spread his wings, without a second thought he jumped. 

***

🍗-“Don’t worry, Omega. I already ordered some new blankets. They should be here by tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind the guest bedroom for now.” He hummed, he was curled around your balled up form. 

🍗-You didn’t even build the nest surrounding you, Kei delicately dropped you down on the bed and instantly began building the nest. He would angrily chirp if you so much as lifted a finger.   

🍗-Everything was fine with you and the pup, or chick as Kei liked to call them. As soon as you arrived home Kei refused to leave your side or let you out of his sight. 

🍗-You were not to roll over on your side without his permission. 

🍗-“Thank you, Alpha.” You thanked, nuzzling your head into one of his soft wings. 

🍗-“I also called a security company, they will be here to set up a new system tomorrow.” He informed, nuzzling into your hair. 

🍗-One of his hands was tangled in your hair and the other was snugly cupping your stomach. 

🍗-“No more Alphas in the house.” You sniffled, shaking your head. 

🍗-“Of course, baby bird. I told them, beta’s only.” He reassured, kissing your head. 

🍗-“I love you, Alpha.” You whispered, almost lulled to sleep. 

🍗-“I love you, too baby bird.”  

First HC I have done in a while, also the first time writing for Hawks! What did you think of him? I hope you enjoyed it! Please be sure to leave a comment and like! I really enjoy hearing your reactions. 💕

[davekitties]

putting under a readmore because it's a long, rambly, rant.

I need to remember how upsetting these past 4 days of not having meds has been. I get that it was over the holidays, but I was doing everything correctly, and people were still treating me rudely. I literally can't refill my meds until the day they run out/maybe one day before, and all these different people I called were like "you should know we are closing 2 hours earlier than listed online and that we are gonna be closed extra days too sweaty," while I was literally following their stupid rules. I called them Friday morning, no one answered, so I left a message, and then I called back around 2:30 (they close at 4pm) because no one called me back, and they were fucking closed and the lady on the line was condescending about how I should have known they were closing at 2pm that day. so I wait till fucking today, Tuesday, since everything was fucking closed yesterday for new years day, and call and they're like yeah, we can write your meds for a different MG, just tell us what pharmacy to use since there's tons of adderall shortages. I call my pharmacy, and they have fucking NONE. I call around a few places and find one that has some. Call my psychiatrist back, leave a message saying to send the script to the new pharmacy, wait a few hours, call them again to confirm they got my message, and the nurse goes "oops, I sent the info to the wrong doctor, sorry, lemme send it again, tehe," (SO LIKE IF I HADNT CALLED AGAIN IT WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN DONE RIGHT). I wait a few hours, and then get a text from my psych's office saying they sent meds in, so I wait an hour and call the new pharmacy (that I had to completely switch all my other meds over to in order to get this one), give them my new insurance number (love medical stuff early January 🙃) and they tell me they JUST got the script in the system, and it'll take 20 minutes to fill. my bf, who's off today, went and got it and delivered my meds to me.

okay, that was fucking long, sorry, probably gonna add a read more higher up, but like, holy shit... from the first lady Friday laughing at me and telling me that not having my meds doesn't count as an emergency to talk to the on call doctor, to the incompetence at my psychiatrist's office. I'm going to switch psychiatrists I think uhghh but, anyways, my point is that the american healthcare system is fucked and especially fucked for people with ADHD or other developmental issues like I almost gave up and was just gonna go without adderall because this was such a fucking hassle from the phone calls to being treated like a criminal for needing adderall to function. the only reason I persisted was because I just got promoted at work, and I can't be slacking right now, and I was slacking without my meds!! I was sleeping 12-14 hours and got jack shit done (even in video games, if you can believe that).

so, yeah, im going to remember my rage, my anger, my frustration and stress and anxiety, over this. the only reason I kept trying was out of pure, indignant, rage, and I know it's not healthy, but without my medication I felt like a shapeless blob, bobbing around randomly. my motivation to do anything was fucking gone, and I knew the only way to solve that was to get my ass into gear and start harassing (nicely) people on the phone until I got my motivation back.

just... be kind to people, okay? even if you don't understand, be kind in any way you can, and shout out to the lady at the new pharmacy that was so helpful and sweet

out of my medication and I can't even call and get anyone to fucking fix it because the pharmacy is out of my mg and my pysch's office didn't answer my fucking calls and everything is closed until Tuesday and apparently not having my medicine doesn't count as an emergency to the on call doctor!!!! Im fucking screaming

[didyoutrydynamite]

I know this is a stupid request in many ways but could you do a little write up outside your AU cannon, where jaune is hit by a semblance of gender change (the effect lasts between 12 and 48 hrs depending on how much aura the person has affected) and the reaction of the girls and/or some other students of the academy?

Team JNRZ stands before General Ironwoods for a debriefing.

Ironwood: So you four were off doing your usual Patrols when you came across a disguised criminal that goes by the alias *squints at scroll* “Swapper O’ Swappy”, described as a Fox Faunus wearing a purple mask, gloves, and bandana around their neck. Small-time bank robber most known for using their unusual semblance in order to get the upper hand on any opponents that try to stop them in their crimes. I’m noticing a certain usage of pronouns, were we not able to gather a possible gender for the criminal?

Neon: *Grinning from ear to ear* Swapper appears to use their semblance to change their gender between every other robbery, so at one they’ll be a dude and the other they’ll be a chick.

Ironwood: *Quriks eyebrow* Hmm, a surprisingly clever way to cover their identity despite their obvious Faunus trait. Not to mention that this criminal managed to find a tactical usage in such a strange semblance. Changing an opponent's gender mid battle in order to confuse or embarrass them, including drastic changes in physicality that forces the target to quickly adjust or be taken advantage of. *Looks towards JNRZ leader* Guess that answers one of my questions…

Reese: *holding back laughter*

Ironwood: I guess the only question I really have left is why Ms. Arc is wearing a Bulwark uniform?

Neon: *wraps an arm around her blonde friend* A girl has to show off some leg, sir! A little something to get some heads turning~

Joan: *Blushing, trying to force her skirt down further* M-my usual clothes were too big for me and my teammates' regular clothes were all too small, General. S-so I went to Headmistress Cordovin for some extra clothes and this is what they had. I-I plan on taking a sick day until this blows over though-

Cordovin: Not so fast young lady! I have already had Nurse Dufresne inspect you in your new state and has given you a clean bill of health. You are in perfect condition to attend class, you’re even in uniform!

Joan: *Blushes even harder, thinking of being seen in public* Perfect condition? Perfect condition to become a laughing stock in front of the whole school!

Reese: *starts bursting out laughing* Please. PLEASE! Come with us to school today. I will literally do anything to see everyone else’s reaction.

Neon: Don’t worry babe! No one is going to be laughing when they see how cute you are! Right May Day~?

May: Huh? I-I wasn’t staring! *goes back to fidgeting with her beanie, trying to ignore how Joan ticked all of her preferences. Tall, kind eyes, pale skin, and dear gods, why did she have to wear a braided Ponytail?!?!* B-but it would be pretty fun to see how every treats you as a girl, if you want that is…

NRZ: *Pleading eyes*

Joan: *Eye twitch* Fine… But you three owe me big time!

=====

Qrow: *Stares blankly at Joan Arc*

Joan: *fidgets* G-good morning Professor Branwen.

Qrow: *Stares for a second more, before pouring his spiked coffee into a nearby potted plant* That’s enough for me today.

=====

Cardin: HAHAHAHAAH! Holy SHIT! No! This can not be happening!

Joan: *blushing hard* Alright, alright. Let it out! Ha-ha.

Cardin: Woo! Damn Jauney Boy, I knew you were always a little sissy bitch, but this too much!

Joan: *Tears in her eyes* You always have to be a jerk, don’t you..

Cardin: *stops laughing* Uhh… hey hold on! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, uh don’t cry- uh it’s not that bad actually. *Looks around to his squad judging hard for making a girl cry.* Uh to be honest you don’t look too bad as a girl.

Joan: *sniffs* Am… am I a pretty girl?

Cardin: *blushes for some reason* Y-You’re beautiful. (Fuck this weirding me out!)

=====

Ilia and May peering at Joan from behind some bookshelves.

Ilia: ... Whoa.

May: RIGHT!?

=====

Joan standing between the girls and boys locker rooms…

Emerald: *standing in front of the girl’s locker room, arms crossed* In your dreams, Jaune.

Mercury: *leaning on the boy’s locker room entrance, shirt off* Hey! No need to be so cold to J-Man! Don’t worry bro, you’re more than welcome to come change with your pals~ *Salacious wink towards Joan. Followed by various cat calls from deeper in the locker room.*

*Joan/ Emerald shiver in disgust*

Emerald: You know what. Fuck it. It's not like we don’t already have May and Ilia in the locker room. You can come with us for today.

Joan: *Blushing hard* W-what?!

Mercury: WHAT?

Emerald: *Drags in a blubbering mess of a blonde into the locker room* But don’t take this as an invitation to try anything “Joan” and don’t be a creep about it like other guys would. *Flips Mercury off on the way in*

Mercury: *Jealousy flips off Emerald and Joan to boot* You goddamn owe me Jaune! You owe me details!

[renee-mariposa]

Look, I would love a 4-hour workday, but let’s get hospital nurses a 6-8 hour workday first please?

[bloodyarson]

things i'm annoyed by today: it's bad enough when a tv show treats psychosis like it's some kind of thing that strips the sufferer of their humanity, individuality, and bodily autonomy completely ("psychotic ppl are not capable of taking care of themselves and making decisions and should therefore be treated like toddlers with no consideration for their opinion on absolutely anything" which is.. also what happens irl but that's for another post another time), but when they also at the same time use the "quirky character with an overactive imagination receives encouragement or advice from objects and people in photos" trope and that's not otherwise adressed in any way.... it just gets a lil on my nerves, yknow. like. idk how to exactly word this, but you can't give a character textbook hallucinations and treat it like it's nbd bc it's ~symbolic~ but at the same time be grossly ableist when it comes to actual mental illness smh.

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

Richards tilted his head a little at her, as she stared him like that. He even closed his shirt a bit more, with his hand. Then as she walked, the squeaking noise of those little wheels, it made him clench his jaw- It was pathetic to see her like that- so fragile- he could stand and twist her neck and it would be a clean crack- his wrist moved a bit- the metal handcuffed keeping his arm tied to the bed opposed with resistance. Right. That. The man relaxed his body, sliding more onto the bed and under the sheet covering his lower half, looking away. "I'm not lying. Do whatever you'd like- it won't change the facts." He sighed. "You can't threaten me with the truth, officer." The man seemed tired and annoyed more than anything. And in pain- pain he was hiding. "Of course she's alive. I stopped the guy from killing her." Mark sighed, took a deep breath. "She will tell everything. Even if I wanted to lie, it would be pointless." He spoke, gently scratching his nape, turning a bit to the side on the bed, head against the pillow, resting on the side of his cuffed wrist.

"I never said I was innocent. Listen. I am willing to cooperate." He looked at her in the eyes. It was the only way out. To cooperate with the police. To at least have some decent treatment before his death- to at least be able to make more victims before he got executed. Okay. He still had a chance. He had a chance to escape. "I was taking a walk. Then I heard distant shouting...I thought someone was in danger...when I followed...I saw two men abusing this girl. One of them was about to hit her head with a bat." Mark's expression wasn't changing at all. "I told them to stop...one of them tried to attack me with a knife...so I took it and attacked him instead...then he fell...probably died." He shrugged. "Of course I ran. Look at what happened to me. I'm innocent. I acted in self defense...and in defense of someone who was vulnerable. I'm a hero and look at what you guys did to me. Threw me off a building, that's not very legit." His voice serious and calm. But his eyes held a clear grudge. "Of course I attacked you, you were ready to shoot. I heard your gun being unlocked." He sighed. "You guys were treating me like a murderer. You said it, didn't you? ' I got you' or something. I was well aware you were considering me some rapist killer already, without any judgement. I'm going to sue all of you so hard for this mistreatment." Mark snarled slightly. Fuck the humiliation- he hated. "I know they were brothers because I knew them- they used to go to the same bar I did. I was surprised as well...when I saw it was them doing such an awful thing." All the material of investigation- all the papers, the files, the notebook he used to investigate those abusers, it was all in his flat, hidden. If the police found it, his lies would go to shit. He still had a chance to recover his freedom and get away because of the abuse he suffered- but if they found out he was a serial killer...oh shit. The young nurse seemed disappointed, overhearing the conversation while in room nearby. She thought he was the legit thing...the famous killer they had been searching. The police had been searching a serial killer who was a rapist- they believed the guy killed random people sometimes, and other times, abused young women. However... The person they thought it was one criminal was actually three. The brothers were the abusers...and Mark was the abuser hunter- a killer- the thing was...many of his victims the police had no idea they were abusers. Mark wouldn't leave his evidence in the crime scenes- for a bloody killer he was quite clean and careful. The abusers by the other hand...were quite messy, smashing people with bats.

"I'm innocent. I just got scared. I panicked. I didn't mean to kill that man with the knife- it was the adrenaline. He would have killed me and the girl if I hadn't done it. And I'm sure you would have killed me as well if I hadn't defensed myself, officer."

“Unfortunately.” Mark answered, opening his eyes, looking at Fox. No apparent emotion, nothing other than maybe…contempt? It was subtle, hard to read.

When they brought him to the hospital, his shoulder was put black in place, the cuts on his face were treated, the ones on his shoulder and clavicle too. The doctor told him he was very lucky. No fractures. Bruises and cuts though…he was full of. There wasn’t a 5cm square on the surface of his body that wasn’t hurt. Pain? He was feeling lots, even with the meds, but he behaved indifferently. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of purple ink on his whole back. A girl had visited, left a bag with clothes and some items for Mark, and then left. As soon as he woke up, the first thing he did once the IV had finished was to take the clean shirt that had been brought and wear it, covering his wounded body. His legs were quite hurt as well, bruised, but he probably would be able to walk no problem. What was bothering the most was the stomping Shane had given his crotch- he was patched there- still didn’t know how much of a damage it had been done. The meds helped him recover well. From the bag the girl had brought, he took one of the apples and ate, he knew he needed energy. He seemed surprisingly well considering the beating of the previous night. A normal person probably would be crying and sobbing, and probably more inflamed by the whole condition, but Mark was cold as ice. He just didn’t show it. He knew he had to sleep to recover faster. So he tried, but from time to time, some nurse would show up to do something- check his vitals, or do something- and there was ONE nurse that always kept coming, staring him, checking on him, almost as if she had some admiration. The only reason he didn’t shoo her away was because he liked being appreciated- he was being well taken care of.

And now she stood there- Fox. The officer. She wanted to talk. She looked a lot worse than him. He scoffed. Yes, he still looked like shit, but the shirt helped to hide his wounds- he kept one hand on it, keeping it closed, his other hand gripping softly the sheet covering the rest of him. His eyes narrowed at her hospital gown under the robe AND the robe. Wow, she had two- to him, they had given nothing. Maybe because he resisted A LOT when they tried to wear the gown- maybe because he didn’t like how the staff tried to touch him- maybe because he had pushed two people against the floor when they tried to have him wear a gown- but just maybe…that was just a guess. The man didn’t want anyone putting their hands on him. Even to take his blood pressure or check his heart, if any palm or finger beyond the tool touching him grasped against his skin, he would STARE. Stare showing a glimpse of all the hate he stored inside. He squinted, wondering why she was there. Wasn’t she afraid? Most people he stabbed used to be afraid of him- why was she any different? “What do you want?” There was no anger or anything at all in his voice. No provocation, no resentment, nothing. He just seemed a bit annoyed at the pain and secretly mad about being caught. His life was basically over…yeah, there was that detail. But what life anyway? He wasn’t happy. If he were to die…then…be it. It was a pity though- the euphoria of taking lives of other monsters…he would miss it. Or maybe not, since he would be…dead. There was no anxiety in him. She said she wanted to talk to him before they moved him. He shook his head softly, frowning a little, briefly. “You already are.” Was she stupid? Nothing was stopping her- and if he said he wanted to be left alone, would she quit? Probably not- he knew her so much- just from that fight. It was a very intimate thing- to try to kill each other. One could learn a lot about the other from that. He kept looking at her, coldly, waiting.

[songmingisthighs]

[21.57] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ nothing's as concerning as wooyoung's 180° change, it's all or nothing for him. And you ? You just became his everything.

⇁ tw : violence, mafia life

⇁ part. 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

Five days went by and you still haven't regained consciousness and Wooyoung had not left your side for even one second.

Neglecting not only his duties but also his own well-being. He wouldn't leave you for a single second, afraid that if he does, someone might come in and finished you off. So he had San be on standby in the guest room, taking his place for when he needs to shower or go for a bathroom break. Said man even attempted to spoon-feed Wooyoung when he found out that his friend had denied the food his house staff brought to him, to which Wooyoung finally gave in and feed himself after San tied him up in his chair and threaten to feed him mother bird style.

When Yeosang came back in the day after you were first found, Wooyoung almost stab one of the nurses when he tried to take you to get checked.

"Seriously? I brought my machines and staff here and literally, within the first 2 minutes here, there are no signs of gratitude and you almost injured one of my staffs? Are you freaking high again?" Yeosang nagged after pulling the petrified nurse to the side.

Honestly, Wooyoung felt bad for scaring the man, but he had to hold onto you no matter what. You have to be within his peripheral vision because the last time he (stupidly) let (drove; shove) you out of his sight (turned all cctvs off which then directly caused you to get kidnapped), he almost didn't get the chance to regret what he did (and said) to you.

But Wooyoung wasn't gonna let other people know that he has remorse. Heck no.

He's the Jung family head mafia and there isn't anyone allowed to know how he's actually like.

Except you.

Right after you wake up.

So instead of letting Yeosang's staffs take you away, Wooyoung swooped you in his deceptively strong arms and put you on the gurney.

Once he's sure that you're secured, he looked at Yeosang and his staffs with narrowed eyes, "no offense, man, but I don't trust any of them," Wooyoung then look to his men who's stationed by his door, "get their details and do thorough background checks on them," he said before pushing the gurney down, forcing Yeosang to personally help him.

He made sure that his men were stationed at every entrance, ran background checks on every staff that entered his place, heck even put out a curfew for everyone including his visiting friends.

"Dude, you gotta get out of here, you look like a zombie," San said as he entered the room, walking towards Wooyoung who had moved his desk closer to the bed where you lied motionless. He slightly cringed when he saw the needles that poked through the skin of your hand.

Without looking up from his work, Wooyoung sighed and shook his head, "she could wake up any second, I wanna be here when she does" he muttered, eyes flitting to your form on the bed for a second.

San approached his friend, leaning both hands on the table, "Wooyoung, you missed 3 important meetings, 2 briefings, and you haven't delegated workloads other than security details for your own place, the organization will be in shambles soon," he said sternly.

Hearing facts behind his words irked Wooyoung, he knew about the current vulnerability in his organization because he's only been taking care of you since you came back to him. He didn't want to be reminded of his previous neglect.

He was about to tell San off when suddenly a voice chimed in.

"You should go do your job, Wooyoung," you called, coughing a little from scratchy throat.

It took him some time to fully realize that you had woken up after five days. He immediately run to your side and help you sit up, ordering San to get you a glass of water.

Once your throat had been soothed by the water, Wooyoung held your hand in his, kissing the back side of it multiple times to express how glad he is, "thank God you woke up, I-I don't know what I'd do if you don't," he choked, feeling tears start to brim on his eyes.

You initially didn't pull away from his touch nor his affection, maybe it's the fact that you had just woken up, maybe you think you're hallucinating, because the Jung Wooyoung you knew would never talk to you or treat you like this.

Though it hurts, you pulled your hand away from his grip, cringing a bit, "F-funny you say that, last time we spoke you said you wanted me dead," you muttered bitterly at him.

Sensing that this is a personal conversation, San slipped away before hearing anything else.

Wooyoung stared at you with sad eyes, "No, baby, I would never," he reached forward, trying to take your hand in his once again. But you scooted further into the bed, your eyes started watering, "liar," you choked out, "you said you've been planning my assassination since the beginning and you wanted to go through with it,"

"I-I did, didn't I? I can't deny I've said that to you, but please, losing you was the hardest thing that ever happened to me-"

"Well what about me!?" You exclaimed, cutting him off, surprising him at the tone you used.

By now tears had streamed down your face, your hands were clutching the blanket on your lap tightly as you began sobbing, "f-for a year, I've been nothing but understanding to you and your actions, I've done nothing but try to stay out of your way, all I asked in return was to be treated like a human being, but you couldn't even do that now, could you ? I even had to get kidnapped by whoever's after you for you to finally give half a fuck about me," you were choking the words out, your raw emotion evident with the way you speak.

Wooyoung never once seen this side of you, the side that is so raw and vulnerable. Sure, he'd occassionally hear your soft sobs through the en suite bathroom or came across your quivering figure in the gardens. But never once did you bore yourself to him like this.

Despite knowing that you might push him away, Wooyoung climbed into bed as quick as he can and enveloped you tightly in his arms.

At first you tried pushing him off with all your strength, not wanting to be comforted by him. But he held on, he knew his way around people's movement so using his knowledge against you was an easy feat.

It took you a while, you still struggled for a bit but you eventually gave in, letting his arms wrap around you and tucking your head under his chin. By now you had somehow situated between his legs, him carefully minding the IV on your right hand as he pulled you in deeper (as if it's possible).

"I know that I don't deserve it, heck, I deserve nothing from you after putting you in hell like that, but I sincerely apopogize and I will do anything and everything I can in order to gain your trust and maybe..." he pulled back slightly and tilt your chin up so he can meet your gaze, "...we can go forth and build a relationship?"

Stranger things had happened in your life but this, by far, is the strangest. Never in a million years would you ever thought that you'd be able to see the great Jung Wooyoung blush like a high school girl. It's honestly cute.

But not as cute as when he bit his lips to prevent his mouth from tearing due to the large grin that bloomed on his face once you gave him a nod, agreeing to him after leaving him nervous for a solid 5 minutes.

[bakubub]

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00​ for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 3:

“Okay, so that’s about it.” You smile brightly, pressing a band-aid into the  boy’s skin. “Thanks for being so brave for me!”

“Mhm. I’m the bravest!”

The child before you beams, all teeth gaps and kicking legs as he bounces in his seat. You’d just given him a few routine vaccinations, and true to your praise, he had been very brave about it. All he’d done was sit there, holding his breath until his face went red, and trying not to grimace. It reminded you of someone else you’d recently treated- someone else who was currently blazoned in all his snarling glory on the little boy’s shirt.

“Oh, I’m sure! Just like Dynamite!” You agree enthusiastically, gesturing to his clothes. You turn your head, catching his mother’s eye from where she sits next to him. “Isn’t that right, mom?”

“Oh, not if I can help it.” She smiles something a little exhausted, but ultimately fond as her son starts making explosion noises. “Not if I can help it.”

If you’re being completely honest, you sort of agree with her. Just a little bit- actually, on second thought a lot.

“If that’s everything and you have no other concerns for me, then we’re about done here.” You say gently. “Do you know where you’re going? I can point you toward reception again if you need it.”

“No, we’re alright, thank you!” 

You nod, holding the door open for them as they leave. 

When the door closes, and you’re swept back up into silence, you can’t help but think of that interaction as just more proof- more proof that no matter where you were, no matter what you were doing, you absolutely could not escape Bakugou.

When you weren’t actively thinking about him, then you were seeing his face everywhere. He was on television, and he was on the cover of newspapers, and as evidenced, he was printed in perfect grumbling, snarling accuracy on children’s t-shirts. It didn’t help either that every day brought another civilian who was saved by him, and every night brought another small-time criminal who was beat to hell by his fists. You swore he was responsible for a solid 70% of all of your hospital’s traffic- it was pure insanity when you really started paying attention. 

You quickly come to realize that Bakugou is a plague; and a horrifyingly effective one at that. You’re not sure how you never noticed it before. 

Still, you can’t help but find yourself worrying a little bit. When you think of him, all you can see is his face covered in blood, the pallid hue of his skin under the hospital’s sterile lighting, and the deep-set bags under his eyes. You remember the way he practically fell asleep, laid out and injured on a hospital table. The way he was drifting while you were digging a needle and thread through his skin. 

Thinking back on it always makes you a bit sick. No one who wasn’t absolutely exhausted would ever fall asleep in a hospital- especially not in the middle of being sewn up. When you match that to the anger and terror you’d felt, that very first night you’d ever met him, it doesn’t paint a pretty picture. You come to realize that even if Bakugou was an asshole to you, you still wouldn’t wish that kind of mental torture on anybody. 

Your rest of your week goes by quickly after that, and by the time Saturday rolls around, you’ve gathered quite a few bones to pick with him. It seemed the amount of criminals you were patching up was only increasing, and their injuries were only getting worse too. Each passing day only brings more lowly criminals and thieves flooding into your hospital, all covered in the same scorch marks, broken bones, and dark bruising. It was overkill, plain and simple, and you knew exactly who the culprit was. 

You began to think that, even if it was Bakugou’s job, he really shouldn’t have been digging graves for people who were just stealing purses. There was a massive difference between a super villain and a petty thief, but he didn’t seem to understand that. Dynamite punished everybody just the same. You saw that first hand.

Still, you try to shake off those lingering frustrations. You were on your way to take out his stitches, and you didn’t want to accidently bring them up. Bakugou only mildly tolerated you the last time around, but you were sure that generosity would cease the moment you criticized anything about him. True to his quirk, Bakugou had proven himself to be a teetering powder keg- just a little bit of friction, and he’d explode on the spot.

“On your way to help his majesty?” Your superior remarks, smiling sardonically as you pass her. “Good luck, I’ll be praying for you! Try your best to come back with your head still intact, yeah?” 

You nod, smiling uneasily, but your stomach turns a little bit. 

That had been another reoccurring theme that week- jokes about how your impending doom was imminent. Apparently, Bakugou had been making a name for himself for years now- a name that was a lot less loved by your hospital then it was the rest of the outside world. You’d been hearing horror stories for days now; tale after twisted tale of nurses and doctors getting chewed up and spit out by his bad temper. It always read as a little strange to you though; in every story you’d heard, he was either hardly injured or on his death bed- no in-between whatsoever. You figure that it didn’t really matter though, the result was always the same. Relentless, explosive anger. 

Which you sort of begun to think you were in for, when you opened the door to his scowling face.

“Hey!” You greet unsurely, trying to walk into the room with a confidence you didn’t really feel. Moving past him, you rinse your hands, drying them and then slipping on a pair of latex gloves. You then pull the medical cart over to him, taking out the blood pressure cuff. Just like his last visit. “You ready to get those stitches removed?”

“Yeah. Obviously. Why the fuck else would I waste my time here? Witch.”

Yep. There it is- just what the other nurses and staff were warning you about. His attitude.

“Oh. Okay, so I see we are still using that nickname. Great.” You mutter wrapping the cuff around his arm. You fall back, crossing your arms as you wait to jot down his vitals. There’s angry tension rolling off of him, and you smile uneasily, trying to discharge it with a subject change. “On an entirely different note, though, I did want to congratulate you.”

Bakugou just scoffs, turning up his nose. A beat passes and then he folds, minutely nodding at you to continue.

“You’re not covered in any blood this time! Congrats!” You say breezily, unwrapping the cuff from around his arm. “Guess the third time really is the charm for us, huh?”

Bakugou just looks away, hardly even acknowledging you as he rolls his eyes. You think you see his lip twitch though- just a bit, and it only lasts half a second, but you count it as a success.

“So, any worries about the stitches? You been cleaning them as instructed?” You ask, gently taking his forearm in your hands. You remove the bandages and gauze with feather-light touches. “Wow, you must’ve been. They look pretty good to me.”

When you look up at him, he’s got that same prideful smirk you’d seen before; it doesn’t distract you from his condition though. His skin somehow looks paler than before, skin purple and darkened under his eyes. You see the cut on his head, still hardly healed and scabbed over. He’s overworking himself, but you didn’t need to have any medical background to see that.

“Obviously they look good. You think I’m fuckin’ stupid?” He says.

“No, but I really did think you would’ve exacerbated them by now. Especially with all the hero work you’ve been doing. Which, believe me, I know is a lot.”

“What- you stalking me now or somethin’?”

“Not exactly. Me or somebody else here always end up treating all those people you save.” You tell him, setting his arm down on the empty surface of the medical cart. You try to keep your voice light, keep it entirely void of anything accusatory, but you can’t help your next words. “And every person you beat into the ground.”

Bakugou’s eye twitches when you look at him. He breathes deep, eyebrows creasing.

“Oi- somethin’ you wanna fuckin’ say to me?” He utters, eyes glinting like blistering wildfire. He leans forward, flipping his palm up towards you as it begins to crackle. “Better choose your next words real fuckin’ carefully.”

It’s his tone that catches you off-guard.

You knew it was a stupid move, your comment, but the pure poison in his response surprises you anyway. His voice is dark and angry, smoldering like a low heat as he stares you down. The words are vicious thing, a gripping threat that drips from his mouth, seeming to bite back around his teeth as he speaks it. It makes you shrink. You think that it would probably make even the strongest people shrink.

“No. It’s- I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” You apologize professionally, pasting on your best appeasing smile even as you fight off the anxiety. There’s nothing left to do but try to defuse the situation- so you turn away from him, busying yourself with grabbing a discard tray and your stitching kit. “It’s really wasn’t my business. Shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry.”

Bakugou just huffs at that, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He somehow looks even more annoyed than before and you don’t know what he wants from you. Doesn’t he know how intimidating he is? Why does he even bother acting surprised when people fold for him? Especially if he chooses to address them like that?

You wish you were the sort of person who could stand up to him- the sort of person who could put him in his place. After all, there was no room for arrogance in a hospital, and you’d always thought egotism to be a selfish waste of valuable time. But, even so, you just couldn’t be that person this time. There was a lot you could power though, but you’d never seen hot-and-cold anger like his before. He wasn’t like any of your other difficult patients- none of their threats ever sounded like promises. 

There’s tense silence as you start removing the stitches, only the sound of your scissors and Bakugou’s own breaths. You try to keep your hands steady, try to keep focused, but you’re finding it hard to keep still under his intense gaze. You feel he’s looking right through you again, waiting for any excuse to blow up again.

You’re almost done removing them entirely when he huffs, rolling his eyes as he shifts uncomfortably.

“You’re so fucking sensitive, you know. It’s pathetic.”

You stiffen.

There’s a lot you’re willing to put up with- being underappreciated and overworked was pretty much your entire job after all- but Bakugou was really wearing on you. He wasn’t the first patient to insult you, and his comment was far from the worst thing you’d ever been told; but it’s something in the way he spits the insult. Sly and challenging like he knows something you don’t. It makes you look up at him, and all you see are his sharp canines. His smirk and the way he looks down on you.

He’s picking a fight, but there’s no threat. He’s testing you.

It makes your blood boil.

“If you don’t like me, and the way I do my work,” You bite out, staring right back and speaking through own clenched teeth. “Then you shouldn’t have asked for me. No one made you come back.”

“I told you, witch. No cutting corners. You put the fuckers in my arm, you take them the fuck out.”

“Why are you fighting with me?” You ask, swallowing as you try not to shy away from his glare. “I told you last time, if this works better for you silent, then just say that.”

He flares his nostrils at that, setting his jaw. When he goes silent, you go back to snipping away his stitches. At this point, you just wanted to finish as quickly as possible.

“Silent is fuckin’ boring.” He grits, flexing his fingers. It makes the skin on his forearm shift, throwing off your work. When you look at him in frustration, you can see he did it on purpose. “It’s wimp shit.”

“Pardon?”

“I said-” He leans in close, voice low and venomous. It feels like he’s trying to paralyze you with his stare alone, sitting up straight until he’s glaring down at you. “Silence is boring. You’re fucking boring.”

You’d had a long day- you’d had a very long day and he was being extremely rude and your patience was wearing thin hours ago. That’s why you let him break your careful composure- at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Oh yeah, I’m boring?” You ask in frustration, entire face warming in fury. “I’m boring? Really! At least I don’t spend my entire day blowing things up and beating people half to death!”

Bakugou blinks. He blinks, sucks a breath, and then you watch his smirk crawl slow and sure across the entirety of his face. He got you. He got you to break, and he won, and he knows it.

He knows it and he settles back on his good hand, leaning away to get a better look at your flustered face. He cocks his head to the side, studying and analytical for a moment. He nods.

“There. We’re fuckin’ even.”

“Excuse me?”

“Even. You shouldn’t have fuckin’ pried around in my head and not expected me to pry in yours.”

“That’s what this is about?” You sigh incredulously, putting your scissors down on the medical cart. “Really? You’re still on that- how- how does this even tell you what’s in my head? You’re just insulting me. It doesn’t!”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then why are you so fuckin’ pissed right now? Hah?” He squints his eyes, voice smooth and dripping with arrogance. “It’s cause I’m right. You’re so fuckin’ boring when you play nice all the time.”

“Play nice? What the hell are you even on about? You don’t know me.”

“I know that you piss me the hell off bein’ fake. If I fuckin’ irritate you then say so. Don’t put on your fuckin’ kid gloves and try and be professional. It’s weak.”

“No. It’s how I keep my job. Which you know, you wouldn’t understand, because you literally pick fights for a living!” You huff, pushing the medical cart off to the side and stepping back from him. “Actually- you know what, no. I’m done with this. This conversation. Your stitches are out, and you can leave since you obviously can’t stand me and would rather be anywhere but here.”

You watch him flare his nostrils again, a snarl ripping from his mouth. He slams his closed fist down on the hospital bed, eyes like blazing conflagration. Bakugou looks pissed, but more than anything he looks vulnerable. Worn raw.

“I can’t.” He grits.

“Yes! You actually can! Just walk out! Literally just walk out an-’

“God, you’re so fucking dense! I can’t leave without figuring out how the fuck you do it!”

“Do what?” You nearly scream, your owns hands beginning to clench into fists.

“I need to know.” He repeats again, hopping off the hospital bed.

His feet hit the ground, steps like rolling thunder as he nears, broad shoulders and muscular arms casting an intimidating shadow. Bakugou looks like an angry bull storming toward you. Like he’ll obliterate you given even half the chance.

“Take your fucking gloves off.”

You’re scared now, eyes darting over to the door. You knew nobody was doing rounds in the luxury wing right now, and sound didn’t pass through walls that were made to ensure silence. Heart racing in your chest, you size him up, try to think of a way to escape but he’s so close to you and he’s built like a linebacker and-

“Jesus christ. Not like that. Fuckin’ idiot.” He growls, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He stops a few feet in front of you, sneering. “You’re not my fuckin’ type, so don’t flatter yourself. Now, grow the fuck up and take them off before I do it for you.”  

You’re not sure what makes you listen, maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s something else, but either way you listen. You pull a glove off, just barely dropping it on the counter before Bakugou speaks again.

“I’m gonna touch your hand- but do not use your quirk. Don’t even think about using it. Just fucking stand there. And don’t freak the fuck out and put up a fight about it. You’re just gonna waste time.”

You nod, hand shaking as you extend it. Bakugou seems to roll his eyes at that, but he surges forward anyways, fingers meeting yours. 

You feel it almost immediately. Your heart speeds up, but just slightly, beginning beat against your chest where it had just barely been grazing it before. You breathe deep, close you eyes, focus in on the buzzing of your skin- the way your bones sing of subtle fire. It’s barely there but it feels like warmth. Reminds you of that night, with Bakugou, when you were burning alive. Reminds you of how your bones felt too large and your skin felt too small and there somehow wasn’t enough room in the entire world to hold the weight of your rage.

“You ambient fucking bitch.” Bakugou swears under his breath. When you look at him, he’s fluttering his own eyes open, dropping your hand like it burned him.

Then he steps back and you’re gasping for air. It’s not entirely back again- but it’s reminiscent. There’s an inkling of that bone-deep exhaustion. That weariness that so often stole the air from you lungs and the ground beneath your feet. 

“Your quirk. It’s ambient. Through your skin.”

You shrink back even more, blinking owlishly up at him. 

“What? You didn’t fucking know? Jesus, how clueless are you?”

“It’s-I-” You drop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I never- I always wear gloves. Always. And long sleeves. Since I was little. Never wanted to take the chance- how did you even know.” 

Bakugou seems to turn his nose up at your question. He steps back, further and farther until his back hits the hospital bed. There’s distance but somehow he keeps the air just as charged, averting his eyes when he speaks next.

“Went to sleep. A week ago. When I saw you-”

“What? Bakugou that doesn’t- you’re not-”

“If you’d let me fuckin’ finish,” He glares down at you again, trying to beat you into submission with eye-contact alone. It works and you fall silent, holding your breath as he resumes. “You put me to sleep. Then and three months ago. I haven’t slept peacefully like that in fuckin’ years. So obviously you used your quirk on me. It’s easy. A fuckin’ moron could’ve figured it out.”

“No- but I didn’t touch you! Well, the first time, yeah, I did, but not a week ago. I was wearing gloves and I-”

“When I told you to do the splint over, the sleeve of your coat rode up.” He grits out, cheeks slightly flushing as he averts his eyes. “Then I almost fell asleep. Not like the first time, but still. Asleep. So obviously it’s your fuckin’ skin.” 

Suddenly, the ground is ripped out from under you.

Your entire life you’d always been tired. Day in and day out, constantly dragging your feet like you could never get enough sleep. Like there wasn’t enough hours in the day for you to live and be rested. 

Was it your quirk this entire time? Were you somehow ambiently draining people of their pain- even if you just accidentally brushed their skin with yours? 

You don’t know how you never realized it. How you never put two and two together. 

You’d spent your entire life purposefully using your quirk to help people-  had then sacrificed days and weeks of your life afterwards tucked away in bed and sleeping off the exhaustion. When you used your power on purpose, depending on the severity of someone’s pain, it would debilitate you. But you still did it- over and over and over again because you wanted to help people. Because you knew you could and that became the only reason you needed. 

You’d always just assumed your constant exhaustion to be aftershocks of how often you used your quirk- you never even considered the possibility that it was something you were doing unintentionally. That you were draining yourself with every hug and handshake and high-five that should’ve made you feel better.

You’d always sort of disliked being touched. Somehow always walked away with your skin prickling uncomfortably for as long as you could remember. You just never knew why until now. 

“Oi- I thought I told you not to freak the fuck out.”

“It’s- how the hell am I not supposed to freak out about this?” You gasp, hands braced behind you on the counter. “I didn’t know! My entire life! And you met me like, what, twice and you figured it out and- Are you falling asleep right now?”

In your spiral Bakugou had somehow ended back up on the hospital bed. He was still sat up, but his shoulders were completely slumped over and his eyes were half-lidded. He looked completely drained of all previous anger, swaying slightly as he blinked himself back to perfect alertness.

“Yeah. Probably.” He grumbles. “It’s your fuckin’ fault.”

“You barely touched me! How the hell is-”

“Don’t ask me, you fuckin’ leech.” He yawns, hand closed into a fist as he rubs at his eyes. “You’re the one with the stupid goddamn quirk. Not me.”

“That’s- sorry. I didn’t know. Holy shit,” You curl arms around your stomach, eyes widening. “Have I been doing this shit to everyone? My entire life?”

Bakugou groans. Audibly. Loudly.

“You’re the stupidest goddamn idiot on the face of the planet. Swear to fuck, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

“You’re not helping!” You exclaim. “It was rhetorical question! Excuse me for freaking out right now- I’m sure you’d freak out too if you suddenly found out you were osmosis-ing people’s emotions your entire life!” 

“Heh.”

“God, and just what the hell are you laughing about? This isn’t funny!”

“Osmosis.” He reiterates, mouth drawn up into a shit-eating grin. “Change your quirk name. To osmosis. Alleviate is shitty and stupid and it makes you sound fucking dumb.”

You bristle again, suddenly shaking any and all tiredness, rounding on him as you seethe.

“You- you are a goddamn asshole! You know that?” You start, stopping just a few feet in front of him. “You come in here, and insult me. Call me boring! In my own fuckin’ workplace! While I’m literally taking your stitches out! And then you tell me how my quirk works- somehow have the audacity to be fucking right about it, and now you’re insulting me? Again?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re just sitting there, completely fine, smiling like there’s something funny! This isn’t funny! I’m not funny! This is my life- which you literally have been bulldozing through for months now- are you falling asleep? Again? No! No! Not in my- wake the fuck up! Asshole!”

You’re snapping in his face, just inches away from his eyes, and Bakugou hardly even blinks. He just sits still, calm and sated as you seethe just inches away from him. You huff in absolute hatred and that finally shocks some life into him. He smiles. Tiny and barely-there, but he smiles.

“See, not so nice anymore. Knew you weren’t. Fuckin’ liar.”

You want to scream. You want to tear your hair out and maybe take Bakugou’s too, and scratch and claw until you’re bathing in all the rage you’d accidentally stolen from him. You can’t though- you can’t because suddenly the sun starts to set. It falls behind the horizon line, seeping the gold from his skin and drowning him in sterile, white, artificial pallid-ness. His skin goes translucent and the only color in the entirety of his image are the bags under his eyes. Well, the bags under his eyes and the stark red of the barely-healed slice on his forehead. 

You curse your own heart. Nearly collapse under the weight of your own sympathy. Bakugou was an asshole, an absolute, irredeemable dick, and you still wanted to heal him. Help him. Somehow. Miraculously.

So then you’re centering yourself, rubbing a hand down your face to soothe your wound-up features.

“God, you actually do look pretty bad.” You say, all attempts at grace and keeping it professional completely gone. “You really weren’t kidding about needing to sleep, huh?”

“No shit. Leech.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. That’s fine. Trade one mean nickname for another- I mean, hey, at least this one’s accurate right?” 

Bakugou does actually exhale a laugh at that remark, limbs a flurry of chaotic movement when he throws himself back on the bed. His head hits the pillow and it’s only seconds before he’s shutting his eyes.

“So, what, you’re just, like, sleeping now?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“This is a hospital, Bakugou.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” He mumbles, yawning into his hand. “‘m fuckin’ Dynamite. I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

“I’m sorry- do you, do you actually think you can ego your way out of rules? Seriously? You can’t sleep here! Not unless you’re critically injured and need like, round-the-clock care.” 

He stills, breath evening and you think he’s fallen asleep. Then he’s lazily bringing a hand up, pointing it loosely at his head.

“I’m critically fuckin’ injured.”

“No- you��re not. That’s a cut and it’s already healing and-”

“I need round-the-clock care.”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?”

“No.” He grunts, flopping as he turns away from you. Then he’s facing the wall, nuzzling into the pillow. “I’m tired.”

“It’s-” You start, but then you’re once again falling victim to your own empathy. One look at his translucent skin is all it takes. “Fine. You know what? I don’t give a shit. Do what you want, I guess. Nobody else is using these rooms.” 

“Okay. Leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get the fuck out.” He slurs, cheek pressed up against the pillow as his eyes flutter beneath his eyelids. “Bein’ too loud. Leave.”

“Fine. Enjoy your sleep. Jerk.”

“Leech.”

You nearly punch him in frustration- until you realize that would probably only relax him more; because apparently this really is Bakugou’s world and you were the unlucky one just living in it.

He’s out before you’re even finished packing up. You’re wiping down all the surfaces either of you had touched, just about to leave, when he starts snoring. It’s a soft, almost kitten-like sound, just barely audible over your own breathing. It pisses you off. Boils your blood in your veins because it’s so goddamn humanizing even when he acts like the anti-christ with an even worse temper. It’s stupidly endearing and ridiculously sobering and incredibly, incredibly irritating. 

That stupid sound is why you double back upon leaving the room. Why you’re suddenly choosing to reverse instead of moving forward, why you’re suddenly reaching into the cupboard instead of shutting the door behind you. 

When you carefully unfold the blanket, settling it gently over his sleeping form, there’s only one thing on your mind.

Fuck being an empath.

--/--

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness 

[writingwithacupoftea]

A family reunited

Summary: Shelby family dinners always bring some drama with them...but none of the brothers expected their sister, Y/N, to join them. After all, she had been missing for 5 years.

Word Count: 3147

A/N: First time writing a fic with a word count over 3000, baby!!! All of the brothers are actually in this but, let’s be honest, Tommy always gets more attention in my writing than anyone else. Let me know what you think of this one, and enjoy!

Part 2

Sometimes you can be better off not knowing the truth. Because the knowing the truth can make your worst nightmares an inescapable reality. A reality that can bring everything crashing down around you.

And that's how the Shelby clan felt about knowing the fate of their sister, Y/N.

Y/N Shelby was 23 when the war began, one year Tommy's junior. Before her brothers left for France, she left them with the promise of having their Mother's favourite sponge cake waiting on the table for them when they got back. She would have to save her money and actually figure out how to make it, but Y/N swore that she'd do it (somehow, even if it did turn out to be an atrocity).

But when the boys stepped through the door of the Shelby residence again in 1918, there was no cake waiting for them. It had been four years, they reasoned, maybe she'd forgotten. Even that didn't seem to sit right with the brothers, however - Y/N always kept her promises, no matter when they were made.  

It was like a dark cloud was looming over the house, but none of them could see what had caused it. Something wasn't right at number 6 Watery Lane.

After embracing Polly and Ada, who had tears flowing down their faces at the mere sight of them, Tommy immediately asked where Y/N was. Their silence had told him everything. Not waiting for an explanation, Tommy stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.  

It was no secret that Y/N and Tommy shared a close bond; they always had each other's backs and always made time for each other. Despite there only being one year between them, Tommy was especially protective over Y/N, as he didn't want anything to happen that might risk her leaving him alone. He couldn't cope without her, for Y/N was both his rock and his light, even though she carried her own darkness with her.

It was dusk when Tommy finally returned, wanting answers. Polly simply presented him with the letter that had been left for herself and Ada on the night that Y/N vanished, for that was all she knew. It said that she had to go away for a while, to not tell Tommy, John or Arthur as she didn't want to worry them, and that she'd be back home as soon as she could. The letter was dated back to 1916. Two years ago. And no one had heard anything from her since.

Tommy refused to look up at his family after reading the letter over and over again, not wanting them to see the tears that glazed his cold blue eyes. He grabbed his bag (effectively hiding the shaking that had taken over his hands) and mumbled something about going to unpack, before retreating straight up to his bedroom, actively avoiding the pitiful looks being sent his way.

The only other time the family saw Tommy that night was when he walked through the parlour and back out of the front door again. They assumed that he was going down to Charlie's yard, where Y/N and Tommy always went together to talk. It was their special place, for they both possessed a deep-rooted love for horses and always found themselves wandering back to their Gypsy roots. When they were both younger, the siblings would be out for days on end riding in the open air. What a distant memory that was now.

According to their uncle, Tommy didn't leave the yard until the sun was fully risen the next morning.

***

Y/N Shelby had been well known to the Birmingham Police from a young age: she had a, quite frankly, remarkable ability to escape the officers no matter how tight of a spot she had managed to get herself into. She was a listener, and had an impressive memory for information that could be of use at some point in the future. Her brain, in combination with her physical abilities to slip away from or outrun trouble, made her an absolute nightmare for the coppers of Small Heath.

She built up such an impressive reputation that, during the war, she had been asked to put her talents to good use. Y/N was recruited as a spy by British Intelligence, and went undercover in Germany to retrieve vital information which ultimately helped the Allies to win the war.  

It was an opportunity that she would never have been able to resist. Her brothers had always treated her as an equal when it came to the family business (although Tommy was sometimes unwilling for her to take part in certain activities); it had annoyed her immensely when they went away to fight and she couldn't do anything to help.  

(She had tried to become a nurse with Ada, but was also kicked out because she couldn't stop laughing when her sister had started laughing).  

But this was her way around it and, as far as she was aware at the time, her brothers would never have to know about her dangerous escapades.

However, not even Y/N Shelby was the perfect criminal or spy. In the March of 1918, she had been on the verge of completing her latest mission when the plan had gone awry. Instead of using her limited time to escape, she had ensured that the information she had gained was communicated properly to her associate. This decision left her with an open police case in Germany, and Y/N was forced to go into hiding.  

As that fact hit her, only one word came to mind: shit.

***

For a year after returning home Tommy searched for Y/N, and turned up nothing. She seemed to have disappeared without a trace. His desperation fuelled his ambition: Tommy wanted to make it big, not just for money but for status and connections. This, he hoped, would provide the opportunities to dig deeper and give him access to speak to the right people, so that he could find out where his younger sister was.  

Because despite the slight shadows that lurked in the back of his mind, he clutched onto his conviction that Y/N was still alive somewhere. He didn't believe in much these days, but he would always believe in his sister.

But in 1920, even Tommy was starting to have his doubts, though he refused to admit them or accept them. His search was beginning to become futile and none of his fucking contacts had been able to turn up everything.  

And so Tommy began to spiral further and further downwards, for Y/N wasn't there to stop it and he didn't have the strength to do it alone.

By the time 1921 had rolled around, the family had pretty much given up all hope that their sister was still alive. However, none of them wanted to be told that harsh truth. What they didn't realise, though, was that it couldn't be further from the truth.

***

Polly Gray wasn't a woman to be easily shocked. She had seen and done too much in her time for that.

Having been settled in her new house (courtesy of Thomas) for a few weeks now, she knew exactly who had her new address – she had only given it to the people that she actually wanted to hear from and knew that they weren't a threat. So, when she didn't immediately recognise the writing on the front of an envelope, worry took over her. However, upon closer inspection of the handwriting, she stopped. Polly knew that writing, but she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She ripped the envelope open, and what was contained in that letter shocked her more than anything that had happened over the last three years:

Polly,

DO NOT SHOW THIS LETTER TO ANYONE OR TELL ANYONE ABOUT WHAT IT CONTAINS. It's not sensitive or anything, I just want to keep it a surprise. A secret between us girls, just like the old days (I've written to Ada as well).

As you can probably tell, it's Y/N, and I'm alive and well. I'll explain more when I get home - I'm on my way back to Birmingham now.

By the time you get this, I'll be arriving in two days' time. I'll come to the address that I posted this to, I know that's your fancy new home. Then, how about we organise a little family get together? You know I've always been one for the dramatics (although I promise me disappearing off for 5 years wasn't completely intentional).

I can't wait to see you again soon; I've missed you all so much.

All my love,

Y/N Shelby xxx

(P.S. in case you don't believe that I am who I say I am, I've enclosed my Mother's necklace that Tommy gave to me on my 16th birthday, to prove my identity.)

And there the necklace was, sat at the bottom of the envelope. Silent tears began to roll down Polly's face and a smile, as big as the day that Michael returned to her, brightened her features.

Y/N Shelby was coming home. And, boy, were those two going to have some fun telling her brothers...

***

The day that the 30-year-old turned up on Polly's doorstep was a blur of tears, hugs and gin.  

Y/N had been introduced to Michael, who they couldn't really avoid because he lived there, but who was more than happy to keep their secret. Just being with Polly again made her realise that she was finally home.  

Whilst Y/N already knew a lot about what had happened since she left, having kept tabs on the family through her various contacts while she was away, the next day Polly helped to fill in some of the gaps in her knowledge. Polly also told her about how torn up Tommy still was about her absence, and it was enough to nearly send Y/N running straight to him. But then her aunt reasoned that it was probably better for Thomas to pass out in shock in her home, where they could set up lots of cushions as a crash pad, as oppose to on the hard streets of Birmingham.

And so the planning commenced. It was decided that Polly would host a dinner for the whole family, telling everyone that she needed to put her new house to good use, and that they could combine it with a proper welcome for Michael.

As the day drew nearer, Y/N could feel butterflies in her stomach constantly. Her excitement at seeing her whole family again was almost overwhelming. Yet she dreaded having to tell them all the truth about her prolonged disappearance.  

But, honestly, the excitement won over her nerves every time.

***

When Y/N heard her brothers' voices booming through the house, she had never been more grateful that she was running late in getting ready (as usual) and didn't have her makeup on yet. She hadn't been able to stop the tears falling from her blue eyes as the familiar sounds of her family's squabbling travelled up the stairs like music to her ears.

Everything was ready for the night that she had dreamed of for nearly three full years.

Fuck, I'm still in my pyjamas, Y/N realised, and hurried about getting ready.

Having memorised where the creaky steps were earlier that day, Y/N creeped down the stairs silently, clad in the most gorgeous midnight blue dress that she had ever seen. When she looked in the mirror, with her makeup on and hair done, she had realised how much she had grown up since she last saw her family.

But she had no time to think about that now, for it was nearly her moment.

Lingering in the doorway with a glass of champagne, and sending Polly a wink, she felt her heart rate shoot up as her aunt stood up with her own glass.

"Now, before we have dessert, I'd like to make a toast." She paused, looking around the table, her own happiness threatening to overflow. "To family."

"To family!" The brothers and Michael chorused.

Stepping into the light and leaning against the doorframe, completely unnoticed by her siblings, Y/N waited until the noise had died down before gently repeating the toast: "To family."

***

It felt like time had stood still.

Arthur, John and Finn's heads whipped around to see where the voice came from. Tommy had frozen completely, tensing up as he heard his sister's voice for the first time in seven years.

"Y/N/N?" Arthur whispered, not believing his eyes.

"Hello boys," Y/N said with a smile and a teasing glint in her eye. "Did you miss me?"

John stood up slowly and made his way towards her, and Y/N stretched her hand out towards him after putting her glass down. Her little brother tentatively placed his hand in hers, and she squeezed it, reassuring him that she was really there. She saw a couple of tears form in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. John started to laugh, wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted Y/N up, spinning her in circles and hugging her tightly. Still laughing, he exclaimed "Oh my fucking God!" and placed her down on the ground.

Y/N was next almost knocked flying with a hug from Finn, who buried his head into the crook of her neck as he cried silently. "Look at you, eh! Almost as big as me now, aren't you?" Y/N placed a soft kiss on the top of her youngest brother's head and rubbed his back soothingly. Over Finn's shoulder, she saw Arthur approaching her, seemingly lost for words. His hand cupped her cheek as he ran his thumb over it, before finally saying "Now what sort of time do you call this, young lady?" Y/N collapsed into giggles as Arthur placed a rough kiss to her forehead.

As Finn and Arthur pulled away, Y/N's eyes found the only brother who hadn't yet greeted her and who she was the most anxious to see. Tommy still hadn't moved, his eyes fixed firmly on the table in front of him, but Y/N could tell that they were cold.

"Tom?"

There was silence. After what felt to Y/N like a lifetime, Tommy spoke quietly and slowly. "I don't want to look up and find that you're not really here. That this is all in my head. I don't think I could bear it." His voice cracked slightly as he uttered the last sentence and, for the first time since the war, the family saw their brother's vulnerability as clear as day. It was a stark contrast to the Tommy Shelby that they'd gotten so used to being around.

Y/N cautiously walked over to her beloved elder brother, as if he were a spooked horse, and lowered herself into the seat beside him. She observed his eyes flit over to her as the chair creaked, so quickly that if she had blinked at the wrong moment she would have missed it. She smiled gently at Tommy. "Well I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with me for a while now, Tom, so you'd better start getting used to having me around again."  

As Y/N gently placed her hand on top of his, Tommy's entire body relaxed and at the same time something ignited in him. He felt alive for the first time since the war, and yet so at peace at the same time.

Suddenly, Tommy grabbed her hand in his, pulled Y/N to her feet with him and brought her into a bone-crushing hug. A thousand emotions and lost words were communicated in that one embrace, in that one moment, even. Tommy clung to his sister like she would vanish again if he loosened his grip. It was only when she whispered "I'm here now, Tom" in his ear as he stroked her hair that he relinquished his hold on her.

Tommy pulled away only slightly from Y/N and held her face gently in his hands. "My sweet girl," he breathed, a small smile gracing his lips. Y/N brought her hand up to his and held it there, the sibling simply enjoying the moment of being together again, tear tracks staining both of their faces.

The silence was broken by Arthur, who gruffly announced: "I need another fucking drink." The whole family started to laugh, the reality of the event finally sinking in.

"Yeah, you pour us all another drink, Artie, while I go and get your pudding." Y/N skipped towards the door.

"Y/N/N we don't fucking care about pudding now, you dick, just get back here now," John shouted after her.

"Bloody hell, no need to shout, John boy, I'm only going round the corner." She leaned around the doorframe, making sure to keep one hand on it to reassure Tommy. "Anyway," Y/N continued, "I've got to give you three your coming home present!"

"Our coming home present?" Arthur chortled.

"Yes," Y/N replied, matter-of-factly. "I believed I promised you lot cake" and she entered holding a cake exactly like their Mother used to make.

The three eldest brothers simply smiled fondly at their sister, shaking their heads.

***

An hour later, the family were all crowded into Polly's living room, having consumed the entire dessert. The gramophone was gently playing music in the background, as no one had bothered to take the record off once Arthur and John had finished dancing with their sister (they had claimed that they needed their toes stepping on to bring them back to reality).

The Shelbys and Grays spent some rare time together as a family that evening. No fighting, no arguing, no business: just talking and reminiscing and laughing.  

But now the night was drawing to a close. Finn had fallen asleep, the overwhelming emotions of the evening having finally caught up to him. Arthur and John were drunkenly singing in the corner of the room, yet they occasionally looked over at their sister, wanting to check that she was still there. Tommy simply felt complete again. For once his silence did not come from an attempt to conceal his true emotions, there was no point in trying that again tonight; he was just cherishing the moment, wanting it to last forever.

As for Y/N herself, she couldn't remember ever feeling so content before. She felt like she was on cloud nine, curled up to Tommy's side as they sat on the sofa together, watching the flames dance around in the hearth. His arm was around her shoulders, holding her close to him, and every now and again Y/N felt him place a soft kiss on the top of her head.

She knew that she had a lot of explaining to do. But that could wait until the morning. For now, they were a family reunited, and none of them could wish for anything more.