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dashielldeveron · 4 months

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soulmate trope | shigaraki tomura

Shigaraki’s route of soulmate trope.

"post-canon shigaraki? canon isn't even finished as of when this was posted on 4 january 2024!"

yeah. thank god. gives us time to write our own endings. and obviously i will be wrong about some things. i recommend you read at least one other route, preferably dabi’s, before reading this one. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to around chapter 390-411ish, based on language used by others to describe shigaraki and his trauma. bodily consequences to his trauma (some things are intended to read as AFO having forced an ED on shigaraki, but this is not made definitive). sexual content. stalking. gore (in a game). reader is experiencing a type of gifted kid burnout.

~28k

There’s a hentai book lying on your bed.

You’ve never seen it before.

Flipping through it, you winced at the positions the large-titted, ponytailed woman was manhandled into, and though you were frankly impressed that she managed to wear such intricate lingerie underneath her everyday business attire, the protagonist only just got home from work; let her decompress for, like, ten minutes before railing her against the window, please.

Whom did you know who would read volume four of something called GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK?

Unfortunately, you were burdened with knowledge about your friends’ sexual habits, and some of them, therefore, were already ruled out: Shinsou only read erotica because he preferred his own imagination to any images hentai or live-action could provide, and Monoma only read hentai in which the woman’s eyes had hearts in them to let the reader know she’s enjoying it—not to mention Monoma wouldn’t buy a hard copy of it, let alone a story that didn’t have more plot and character development to it. There wasn’t enough drool for Sero to be interested, and the male protagonist wasn’t enough of a twink for Kaminari to project onto, so whose was this?

Moreover, who the fuck would come all the way back to your old school’s campus to break into your room to leave it on your bed? (Shinsou would be your best bet for that part, but whenever he finished a patrol nowadays, he went directly to sleep, and his and Monoma’s flat was across town.)

You cat, Dango, jumped onto the bed, slithering up next to you and bumping her head on your elbow affectionately.

“Is this yours?” you asked her, and she sniffed the book before climbing into your lap.

You tossed the book aside to pet your cat with both hands, and you resolved not to think about it any longer, even though the cringy way the mangaka depicted the female orgasm was burnt onto your brain.

***

Hopping to put your heel back into a ballet flat, you held the phone between your ear and shoulder while you struggled towards the lift. “I’ve got to cancel on you, Ochaco,” you said, flipping the back of your blazer collar down and adjusting the lapels, “I’m, fuck—I’m not gonna be able to make it this evening, so just go without me.”

Uraraka sighed on her end. “Okay. I know a lot of us were excited to see you after so long—there’s a card Tsu’s made us all to sign, and everything—but we’ll manage. ‘Spose we’ll just have a routine night at the bar and reschedule when you can make it. I miss you,” she said, “and I’m pretty sure I can say the same for everyone.”

The elevator door slid open, and you entered. “All of you are so clingy. I’ve only been away from the agency for around two months, and you know where to find me.” You mashed the button for the ground floor. “In fact, it’s embarrassingly easy to access me.”

“Well, we’re very busy,” said Uraraka, “People are very eager to conscript us for missions, even if they really could be done by the police. U.A. alumni have somehow upticked in their popularity even more since we graduated—”

“Ochaco, I know. I was there. Allow me to weep for your success. I am playing the world’s tiniest violin.” You shifted your bag’s full weight onto your shoulder and exited into the commons. “But listen. I’ve got to go; I’m running late this morning. I couldn’t find my pantyhose even though I laid them out last night, and they weren’t in any of my cat’s usual hiding places. I had to turn my flat upside down and still never found them.” The outside doors slid open when you approached, and the harsh, morning wind upset your hair on impact. “Give everyone my love, O. Tell Todoroki to smile in his next interview.” Eyes darting across your surroundings for any witnesses, you shrank in on yourself and bit the inside of your cheek. “And tell everyone I’m sorry, okay?”

By the time you arrived at U.A.’s administration building, the wind had been joined by a light drizzle that would probably morph into a storm within the hour, a prediction compounded by a plethora of faculty umbrellas in and beside the stand by the sliding doors. The front office was gloriously vacant, though, so you were able to slip behind the front desk without someone rebuking you for being—you shook the computer mouse to wake it up, the clock popping up in the corner—seventeen minutes late.

(You’d graduated with the rest of the class six months ago, and you’d founded the all-girls agency uptown, with most of the women in the graduating class joining to form an instant powerhouse of the industry.

Founding an agency appealed to a good deal of graduates, but you were the only one to go the distance: you were the one to actually make the calls, fill out the paperwork, get aggravating shit done, and by the time to move into the building, it had pleased you to no end that Midoriya had asked you for help on kickstarting his own.

And then two months ago, you’d pulled off, frankly, what was supposed to be an impossible rescue. For the first time, you were getting enormous amounts of attention, from civilians, from press, from other heroes—and you were being followed, never having more than a moment to yourself—always being watched, either from well-wishers or nay-sayers—and sometimes, the analytical critic, eager to point out your faults in the rescue mission to try to drag you out of the hero scene.

You hated yourself for this, but they won.

Too many expectations. All sinking down on you, as if no other hero existed while the light shone in your direction. [And you hated yourself for even daring to consider this—what reprehensible audacity, but—but was this how All Might had felt?]

You’d had something next door to a panic attack when a convenience store, a regular stop in your weekly routine, filmed your reaction to how they’d auctioned off your signed receipt for over nine hundred thousand yen. Breaking their cameras, Shinsou had to escort you out of there in a rush and call Aizawa for help.

Sobbing into Shinsou’s phone on the soggy concrete of a darkened alleyway, you did something you never fathomed you’d ever do, something you could never see any of your friends ever doing, something that seemed as alien and unthinkable as sticking your hand into a pit of needles: you begged Aizawa to get you out of the hero business.

You’ve been handled with care and relocated into a surprising covert secretarial job in the U.A. admin, Nezu’s logic was that you’d adjust to one person needing you at a time, say, over email or at the desk, and if you only answered the phone with only a shortened version of your name, then no intruding civilian would be the wiser.

The job was easy, anyway. Paid well for what it was, but perhaps that was simply standard for U.A. Nowhere nearly as well paying or exciting as working as a hero, but you were adjusting into mundanity. Some days had stretches of hours in which you didn’t interact with anyone, sitting at the front desk without a task, and you even had a few days in which you’d gone in, piddled around at the desk for your whole shift without seeing another soul, and gone home.

Your friends were always so busy. The two times you’ve been able to meet with them contained nothing but conversation about hero work, or else everything was somehow tangentially related to it, and you found yourself unable to contribute to the conversation. Both times, you’d left early, a little overstimulated, leaving Shinsou to make your excuses.

And Shinsou, bless him. Not avoiding you on purpose. In fact, you knew he’d drop almost anything for you to hang out, but you knew his schedule and how little rest he got. So, it was more of a self-imposed boundary on your side, taking into account that he needed sleep more than he needed to spend time with you.

So, yes, some of it was directly your fault, but you were achingly, astonishingly lonely, with an ever-lowering threshold for tolerance of outside stimulation, ultimately feeling like you didn’t belong here.)

Pens aligned. Coaster. Check the school email for—good, no emails. No voicemail. Get out your planner and write your hours in it to look busy. Hey, your water bottle’s nearing empty; maybe you could go fill it or even waste time brewing coffee. But where’s your work mug? You probably left it on the cleaning rack next to the office sink. You should go check.

“Hey,” said Aizawa out of nowhere, ignoring how you jumped out of your own skin, “Good morning. Are you doing a specific job at the moment?”

You gripped the arms of your swivel chair to ground yourself. Is this a test? “I was about to take a moment to make some coffee,” you said, because never let someone in a position of authority know that you were doing jackshit, “Is there something I can help you with, Aizawa-sensei?”

Frowning, he dipped his chin into his capture weapon, still tucked closely to his neck to shield him from the wind, and he shifted his weight to one leg, his fingers tapping in a ripple on the reception desk. “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

“I’m gonna,” you said, “How can I help?”

Please don’t need anything. Please don’t need anythi—

“Permission has just cleared for me to assign you a long-term task.”

Shit, you thought, internally wincing at how he used the term task and not mission, as if you’d be plunged into the ice-cold water of a panic attack at the word. The kid gloves that everyone handled you with somehow both ingratiated and insulted you.

“You’ll be paid for it,” Aizawa continued, “and it’s low stakes interaction, not even face-to-face. It’s all online.” Aizawa clasped his hands on the desk and hunched over the top of it, the ends of his scarf trailing down onto your keyboard. “You’ll recall moving some boxes into room 310.”

“Of course.” Early in your first month back at U.A., you’d helped clean out and move some boxes into 310 in the same hall that housed Aizawa, Eri, and now you—you’d unofficially dubbed it as U.A.’s drawer to shove social rejects. “Is someone about to move in?”

“He’s been moved in for a while,” said Aizawa, pulling his capture weapon away from his neck, “Keep all of this quiet. You’re allowed to know because I’ve advocated for you, because I trust in you and in your ability to do this well.” Aizawa paused, the silence dragging on much longer than usual. His eyes glazed over, as if considering how to phrase his next proposal.

You waved your hand, prompting him to continue.

His eyes focused again. “The new person is a ward of the school, but All Might and I are his primary—caretakers isn’t quite the right term, and nor is supervisors, so perhaps it’s better to—”

“No, I get it,” you said, “This person is an adult, but they’re not quite independent. Go on.”

Aizawa paused, brow furrowed just slightly as he scrutinised you again, but he nodded slowly after a moment. “I’ll allow him to introduce himself to you. He doesn’t need me to set up expectations. What’s important for you to know, regarding your own participation, is that he’s very new to the hero scene and is receiving his hero training later in life than usual. He won’t be attending class but will be trained personally by select U.A. faculty, mostly All Might, Nezu, and me.”

“Is he officially a student?”

“On paper.” Something strange passed across Aizawa’s face, but you couldn’t name it. “Where you come in is his socialisation. He’s spent most of his life in disciplinary isolation. Because of the adults raising him, his instincts trend towards distrust and animosity.”

So, Aizawa wanted you spend time with him until he was no longer bad with people, like spending time with feral cats at animal shelters until they’re ready to be adopted. “So, he’s distrustful. Hostile. Angry,” you said, scratching the side of your head, “Is he—do you think he’ll bring up bad stuff I’ve done to use it against me?”

“He doesn’t know who you are, aside from someone trusted by U.A. with hero experience,” said Aizawa, shaking his head, “and you can choose what information you give him.”

“Does he,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “Does this guy know about how you’re going about this? I think—wouldn’t he be insulted if he knew about how you’re socialising him like an animal?”

Aizawa looked over his shoulder at the empty office, but he bent farther over the desk and spoke softly, anyway. “Recently, when I was training him at night, he expressed that he never knows what to do when someone wants to talk to him after mission, whether it’s successful or not. He froze entirely when a senior citizen thanked him last week, and that’s when we decided something tactile needed to be done. Since he’s grown used to me, you’re the solution.”

Okay. A volatile man, someone who couldn’t go to U.A. at the average age but for whom Aizawa, Nezu, and All Might were making an exception, even going so far as to personally take him out at night to practise hero work.

Hm. Fishy.

But if the good, good men who took care of you wanted you take care of another misplaced person, then you’re going to do it to the best of your ability.

“I hope I can live up to your expectations,” you said, making a note in your planner, “What am I doing?”

“I need you to learn how to play a video game,” said Aizawa, “and I need you to be absolute shit at it.”

***

For you to help some loser with socialisation, he would be teaching you how to play some janky, twenty-five-year-old MMORPG called Cipherstone—and not even the current, polished version of it; you had to sign up for an account on the version preserving the game exactly as it was in 2007. Nostalgia reasons, apparently.

You nudged Dango out aside to check your bedside clock. The discord call would start in five minutes, and you were making your Cipherstone account, completely unable to come up with a suitable username.

“Don’t connect it to your other online accounts or your actual identity,” Aizawa had said that morning.

Dango’s tiny prance across your stomach was not helping, and you couldn’t use Dango in your username, because if someone knew about your cat (and hopefully no one did, because cats were not allowed in the dorms), then a Dango username could be linked back to the real you. You plopped your head back on your pillow, knocking against the headboard. What’s something that couldn’t be traced back to you? Slumping, you let your head fall to the side and sulked.

The hentai book peeked out from underneath a jacket on your dirty clothes chair.

GinsengTea

That username is unavailable.

Well. You couldn’t use your birthdate as added numbers. You kept typing.

GinsengTea69

That username is unavailable.

You’re not about to try Lustful Ballsack. Maybe if you put aside your secretarial propensity for being correct for a moment.

GinzengTea

Username available!

Oh, thank God. You sorted out your password and started customising your character, though you couldn’t do much with the negative six billion pixels you were dealing with, and oh, is that the noise discord makes for a call? You plugged in your earbuds and clicked the answer button.

“Hello?” you asked into the microphone on your earbud cord, narrowing your eyes at his profile picture of a rotund, cartoon mouse. Username Tenkopeito. Looks like he ran into the same spelling trouble you did.

“Greetings and salutations,” he said, his tinny, rasping, just-got-out-of-bed, gruff-from-lack-of-use voice striking you with about fifty psychic damage, “I am Aizawa-sensei’s pupil, here to teach you about the intricacies of Cipherstone. It will be my pleasure—”

“Cut that shit out,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his profile picture: actually, that mouse was so round because it had just swallowed an enormous piece of konpeito whole, with the little star spikes jutting out underneath its fur. “No one talks like that. You sound fake as fuck.”

“I see,” he said after a beat, tone deflating to sound resigned (and though he’d relaxed, it somehow sounded as if talking this way took more effort, like it physically strained his vocal cords). “Am I not supposed to be nice?”

“You weren’t exactly being nice. You were using a customer service voice—which is being polite, not nice. Not even kind. Politeness is usually some sort of put-on affectation of niceness, forced for the situation. I understand if that’s what you think you need to do when you talk to people as a hero, but in hero work, since the stakes are high, you need to be genuine, or at least sound like you are.” Dango crawled across your stomach again, but you lifted her off before she could settle into a loaf on your keyboard. “In the field, it’s often hard to be kind because of how involved you get as a hero; being kind takes effort and drains you emotionally. Kindness implies there’s some sort of reciprocity, some sort of ongoing relationship. You can choose to be kind if you want, but it may wear on you in the long run. What will probably be healthiest for you, on your side, is if you aim to be nice, meaning being honest in a gentle way, framing situations positively but realistically for listeners. The public doesn’t want to be lied to and told everything’s fine, but telling them the harshness of reality doesn’t go over well. Kills morale.”

“Holy shit.” He was scratching something close to his microphone—it must be a fairly good mic, since you could deduce short fingernails against a dry surface. “That’s…a lot.”

“It is. But you can do it. All it takes is practise, and that’s what I’m here for,” you said, moving Dango from your keyboard again, “And I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with all of that; it just came out—I, uh, I happen to know a lot about the way heroes present themselves.” Swallowing thickly, you ran your tongue over your lower lip. “Why don’t we begin with what you were saying before? But in the actual way you talk, please. You need to be comfortable in your own voice.”

His mic picked up the distant noise of slurping through a straw, against what sounded like the bottom of a metal cup, which clinked when he set it back down. “Have you played Cipherstone before?”

“Total newcomer. Though I’ve seen some screenshots in memes.”

“Cool,” he said in a way that was clear it was not cool, “I can’t add you to my in-game friends list until you get off Tutorial Island. Share your screen with me until then.”

All right. You can be bad at this. You can be so bad at this. “What’s a screen?” Not that bad, idiot! “I mean,” you said, fumbling, “How do I share my screen with you?”

The scratching grew louder. “Bottom left. Screen button. Right click. Share option.”

“Ah.” You should probably lure him into thinking you’re competent while there was a literal tutorial onscreen so that he would be more frustrated with you later. “Gotcha.”

For a few seconds after your avatar popped onscreen for the first time, nothing came through but the 8-bit tutorial music. “Is that what you look like in real life?” he finally asked.

“No,” you said, not exactly lying. The character had her hair down in her face (which you wouldn’t normally do when you were on patrol, since it could get in the way of physical hero work), and, hoping to endear yourself to this weirdo, you’d chosen the sluttiest shirt: while none of the horrible pixelated options showed any boob whatsoever, the poor rendering still managed to convey that the top was off-shoulder. Again, not great for hero work. “In real life, I’ve much, much more panache.”

Another silence, during which you assumed he was looking up the word. “So, you click on the screen to go where you want to walk, on either the overall game interface or in the mini-map in the corner. Your destination will show up—”

“Wait, what should I call you, screwboy?”

“—as a red flag,” he said, frown audible, his rasping voice screeching to a stop the way brakes are slowly applied to the wheels of a train. “Not screwboy.”

“I’m not calling you by your handle. Not only is it cringe, but you won’t have to answer to it anywhere else in your life. If you don’t want to give me your name, that’s fine. I could call you by your hero name, if you like; it’d help you get used to answering to it. But no, I’m not calling you your username,” you said, shoulders slacking once Dango finally settled in a ball at your hip, “Especially since you couldn’t even get the correct spelling of Ten Konpeito.”

“It’s—it’s not supposed to say that,” he said, sputtering with a groan coming in at the end, “It’s a play on my name, and including the n makes it harder to say aloud. I think these things through; I have to be aware of my public image and branding now; that’s the whole point of this stupid—my name is Tenko, you asshole.”

“Oh, you’re gonna call civilians asshole?” You clicked your tongue. “Bad. Bad and evil. Speaking from experience, people don’t like that.”

“Just fu—just click on the map.”

“Fine. But you can’t fool me with your medieval, point-and-click game,” you said, clicking to pick up a fishing net, “Incidentally, the oldest known fishing net is the net of Antrea, crafted of willow and dating back to 8300 B.C.”

Tenko paused. “What would be the socially expected response to that?”

Your avatar fished for shrimps. “Oh, usually people yell at me. Get mad for bringing up total non sequiturs. My friend Bakugou is fond of telling me that I’m a collection of those bottle caps with facts printed on the inside.”

“Would…would you like me to get angry? Am I supposed to? I was under the impression I was supposed to curb my anger. To be nice.”

Your inventory filled with shrimps.

“You only need one shrimp,” said Tenko.

“You’ll thank me when we have food later,” you said, continuing to fish for shrimps.

“It’s the tutorial,” he said, frown creeping into his voice, “You won’t keep any resources from it. You should go chop the tree down to light a fire.”

“Well, hell. I want my shrimps.” You clicked away from the fishing spot and onto a tree. “Nothing’s happening.”

Tenko cleared his throat. “You need to talk to the woodcutting tutor first. She’ll give you an axe.”

“I thought this game had magic,” you said, guiding Dango’s head away from blocking the screen, “Can’t I just get logs with magic?”

“No, it’s—you must want me to get angry. As a test.” Scratching. “Magic comes later. Not for getting logs.”

You interpreted that as a sign to make the rest of the tutorial go smoothly. You followed the instructions for a few silent minutes, proving to him that you could read, and when you reached the end of the tutorial, a wizard teleported you to the crossroads of a town centre.

“Ah,” you said, genuinely surprised as other players’ avatars, decked out in what must be high-level gear, dashed past, “I don’t know where I am.”

“You can turn your screen-sharing off now.” Tenko typed on what sounded like a mechanical keyboard. “I’m over here. I’ve got—by the fountain—white hair, all black clothes. I’m not—there you are.”

Dozens of other players were running past the two of you, the only bare, new players in the area. Tenko’s pixelated avatar waved at you. Cheeky bitch. He’s so poorly animated and so very 2007 that it gave no indication what he could look like in real life. But he’s chosen to have a black t-shirt as his default, so he has to be a slut.

You resisted the urge to ask to feel his pixelated bicep. “You don’t have any equipment. I thought you’ve played Cipherstone before?”

“My main account is max-ed out. I started a new account to grow at the same rate as you. Before anything else, notice where we are,” said Tenko, “We’re in the centre of the city of Renfield. Get familiar with it. Think of it as home. It’s where you’ll always come back to when you get lost.”

It’s a barely animated town centre, with a short path up the stairs to a castle door and a few market stalls split between fountains.

“I have no idea what that means, Tenko.”

“It means that—that,” Tenko said, and stopped.

You couldn’t stop grinning, biting at your lower lip to keep from laughing—he’d let out a flustered huff, sounding a little strangled, because you’d said his name for the first time—and, judging by how long this delicious silence was dragging on, Tenko was probably his given name, not the family name. Beautiful, really, that a guy his age (however old he was, but he’s at least the same as you, since he couldn’t attend U.A. at the usual time) could get this nervous over a woman calling him by his name.

Tenko recovered in a way that showed he didn’t: “It means that you are always able to cast one spell, regardless of magic level,” he said in a rush, “It is a homing spell that teleports you back to this spot, so even if you get lost, you can always get back to Renfield. You can teleport other ways, too, but that’s for another time, and I need a cup of coffee.” He inhaled sharply.

It's only the first day, so you should go easy on him. Let his moment of awkwardness go.

However, Aizawa gave you a mission.

Excuse you, a task.

“Do you plan on getting flustered every time a civilian calls you by name?” you asked, petting between Dango’s ears, “Or are you planning on avoiding as much publicity as possible by being an underground hero like Aizawa?”

“I don’t—they’re not going to—it’s different with you. I can already tell,” said Tenko (you froze, fingers curled into Dango’s fur), “because I’m going to have some sort of working relationship with you. I assume you’re here to stay.”

Putting it that way made your heartbeat throb around your ears. You decided you could ask directly. “Tenko’s your first name, then?”

“Yeah.” He must have covered his hand with his mouth, muffling his voice at first. “But people usually—people have been calling me something else.”

“Then I can call you something else, if you like,” you said, getting back to petting Dango behind her ears and resolving to treat him with the same tenderness—he must need it, since no one in his life knows him well enough to call him by his given name.

“No, I think you should,” he said a bit too quickly, “Call me that. Tenko. I’m tired of that other stuff. Click on something to keep from logging out, by the way. There’s a timer.” Mechanical typing noises. “No, Aizawa-sensei wants me to be better. Of all things, I need to learn to respond to my real name.”

You squinted at your screen, as if the methodical rise and fall of his avatar’s chest could betray how he was feeling. Something had to have happened to this guy to make him feel this way about such a basic part of his identity, to make other people avoid his real name so universally. Aizawa couldn’t’ve have assigned you this task just to socialise him; something else was unfolding here. How did you enter the equation? If you’re supposed to guide someone who’s also lost their direction in life, you’re a hell of a bad candidate.

But what if you fuck up Aizawa’s plan, whatever it was?

Your recent history is riddled with things going downhill. What if you somehow screwed over Tenko? You’d be dragging someone else down with you, down to…the beginning again, a humiliating re-start, back at your fucking school, when the rest of your friends were out living the dream you’d all crafted together, the dream that apparently could go on without you in it.

Well. Enough of that. Distract yourself. Distract Tenko, too. “Got it. I want a hat.”

“What?”

“I want a hat,” you said, clicking the space around the fountain for your avatar to walk, “My head is cold. How do we get a hat? Hats. You should get one, too.”

“Hats. Very well,” said Tenko, clicking to face you across the shitty fountain, “Do you want one that’s purely decorative or one that has some sort of stats? Decorative ones we can get within a minute, with good RNG, by killing goblins across the bridge. There’s a low chance we could get a low-tier wizard’s hat doing that, too.”

“Then it will be a pleasure killing goblins with you, Tenko.”

“Mm,” he said at the back of his throat, “First, we’ll need to obtain some sort of weapons, since bare-handed punching them will take forever. We could either talk to the melee tutor to get a temporary sword or start wi—actually, we should talk to the melee tutor. Melee will probably be the easiest fighting style for you right now, and it’ll be the simplest, since you won’t have to worry about running out of ammunition or runes.”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back in bed, “Do we go starboard or port?”

“You can just call them east and west, y’know. And we go north.”

To be obstinate, you clicked the opposite direction that Tenkopeito was going, and the moment you ran offscreen, Tenko spoke in a low, grumbling voice into his microphone. “No, don’t run away from me. Come back here.”

The rumble in his voice shot warmth straight to your lower stomach, the nature of the encounter between the two of you changing in a second. Your avatar kept running to her destination, your hand frozen and hovering above the tracking pad. You blinked, your throat drying. Snapping back into it, you ran back to Tenko, who seemed unaware of what he just did to you—and he almost negated your arousal in the way he kept talking about sword upgrades and something called RNG.

Uh.

“—now, it’ll take about ten minutes, but it’ll seem like two hours of hard labour. Follow me across the bridge. Follow—there’s a follow mechanic, if you’ll right-click on me.”

Oh, you’ll right-click him, all right. You needed to know more about Tenko—why you’ve been paired off, what Aizawa’s planning for him, what—a tinge of shame soured at the back of your tongue, because what currently gripped you were minutiae: more about him, what he looks like, what he likes, what he does for fun, if you’re…the sort of person he’d get along with in real life, if you hadn’t been forced together.

God, get over yourself. You spend two months away from men your age, and now, you’re thirsting over someone you don’t even know because he said one hot thing. You needed to be socialised—no, stop. This isn’t about you. Stop thinking about what his hands would feel like on you, what he’d sound like grunting into your ear as he ground against you—

“You’ve been quiet for a minute,” said Tenko, slashing the first goblin, “Are you all right?”

A very heroic question when you haven’t been thinking too heroically. The thought of his voice muttering against your neck still grasped you tightly. “I’m having—technical difficulties.”

***

Poking your head outside of your dorm/apartment door, you scanned the hallway for witnesses. You gripped the handle of Dango’s carrier, still hidden behind the door inside your dorm, and you nodded back at her when she meowed at you.

“I know, baby,” you said, listening for footsteps, “We’ll be outside soon enough. Gotta check for people, though.”

Okay, nothing coming. You shifted Dango’s carrier out of your dorm and pulled out your key, sticking it in the lock at the same time as a door opened down the hall.

Too fast—you had to prod her carrier back inside, your foot stuck in the crack between wall and door, just as—as Midoriya strode down the hall. Keys jangling. Civilian clothes (a Froppy hoodie, in fact).

“Oh, hello!” Midoriya only seemed to notice you once you were struggling to close the door despite the carrier being the way, and hopefully you thrust it fully inside swiftly enough for him not to catch the flash of burgundy. He trotted up to you, hands in the pockets of his worn cargo pants. “I didn’t think you’d be around. Do you not have work today?”

Dango meowed mournfully through the door, and you stepped in front of it. “It’s my lunch break. I’m going for a walk.”

Midoriya nodded, and he glanced over his shoulder back to the room he’d left. “Gotcha, gotcha. Good weather for it, especially after that storm earlier this week.” easy smile stretched across his face as he faced you again, but his gaze weighed down on you, as if the number one hero’s attention magnified your failures in comparison to his rise to the top—and the fact that he didn’t mean to pressure you only exacerbated the feeling.

“Uh,” you said, stuffing your keys in your backpack and setting it on the ground, as if you’re not waiting to go back inside, “May I ask what you’re doing here? Don’t you have better—aren’t you busy?”

Chuckling, Midoriya scratched the back of his neck (and oh, in that laughter, he was hiding something). “I make time. I’m just visiting,” he said, jerking his head back towards the end of the hall, “A friend. I want to take care to see him regularly. I didn’t know you lived on the same hall.”

“If you can call it living,” you said, and for some reason, Midoriya frowned, took a step closer to you, and said your name under his breath, eyes fucking wide and too damn concerned for your comfort. Fuck, you only meant to make a self-depredating joke, not make the situation serious.

“You—you know that you can reach out to us. I mean that. If you’re scared you’re gonna burden any of us—”

You’d squatted down to go through your bag, just to have something to do, to have an excuse to not look him in the eyes. If you were going to cry—which you were not!—then the number one hero’s not going to get to witness it.

“—then reach out to me, at least. I’ve got time, or else I can make it.” Midoriya was kneeling next to you, and you kept your eyes on the inside of your backpack. “If it makes you feel less like you’re bothering any of us, I could check in with you when I come see my friend. I’d already be on campus. I wouldn’t be going out of my way.” He sighed to fill the space when you didn’t answer. “What are you looking for?”

“I can’t find my planner,” you invented, and, acting like you were upset, you zipped your backpack again. “I think I need to go back inside to locate it.”

He shifted his jaw, and he glanced down at your bag and back at you. “Come with me to the vending machines, at least?”

The new symbol of peace, asking to spend time with you. You didn’t deserve it, so you shook your head. “I don’t have much time left in my break. I think I’d better let you go.”

Shifting his jaw, Midoriya tilted his head at you, his eyes glinting. “All right,” he said slowly, “You know yourself better than anyone else. Do what you need to. Rest up.” He started walking backwards towards the stairs. “And I want to see you more—we all do. I’ll see you the next time I come around. Maybe the three of us could hang out?”

“Sure,” you said, shoving your key in the lock to let a thrashing Dango out of her misery.

***

“The church. It’s the one with the altar icon in the minimap.”

You clicked enough so that your avatar would backtrack. “How am I supposed to know that’s the church? Is that icon supposed to be an altar? It looks nothing like an altar. It looks more like a steaming cup of tea.”

“That’s fair,” said Tenko into his headset, “but this is the easiest quest in the game. How are you having this much trouble with it?”

“Oh, stop that,” you said, reaching his character in front of the priest, “It’s intuitive to you because you’ve been playing this for years. Do we kill this guy?”

“What? No. He’s going to give us each the key to a dungeon underneath the church.”

“How can he give us both a key if there’s only one?” You clicked through the dialogue with the priest, and a key appeared in your inventory. “Also, how accurate is this dungeon? Because if this is a broadly medieval game, then the dungeons will be closer to underground bathrooms rather than, like, creepy and wet with shackles and bones. That was popularised by Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe.”

“How the hell do you know that,” Tenko asked flatly, “Ne—never mind. It doesn’t matter. Follow me to the trapdoor outside.”

You did, and it was locked. “Are we allowed to do this?” you asked, clicking on the key and then the lock, “Will we get arrested for trespassing?”

“Wha—no. No, we’re supposed to in order to progress the quest. In fact, our characters do a frankly criminal amount of breaking and entering throughout the game and never get checked for it. Hey, don’t go down there without me.”

Your character had only just gone down the trapdoor, prompting a blackout loading screen, but you popped back up to the surface before you could get a good look around. Your character stood next to Tenko’s, still next to the trapdoor. “What’s the holdup? I thought the only step was to use the key on the door. Did I skip something?”

“No, I—huh,” said Tenko, cutting himself off with a tinge of frustration creeping into his voice, “I lost the key.”

Raising a brow, you tilted your head. “What? How’d you lose it?”

“I don’t know. It was in my inventory one minute, and now it’s not. I didn’t touch it.” His mic picked up light scratching. “You’re not supposed to be able to lose the key, but I guess I can go back to the priest to get another. You wait—”

“Hold up,” you said, brow furrowed, “I have it. It’s in my inventory.”

“The hell? Are you sure it’s not just your own key?”

“Positive. I have two of them now. Same key, right next to each other. Want me to share my screen?”

“No, I—I believe you.” Tenko took a moment. “I’m not familiar with this sort of glitch, where an item from one player’s inventory randomly transfers to another’s. This doesn’t even happen, in my experience, but maybe it’s because this is one of the earliest quests coded into the game. It’s twenty-five-year-old code at this point, and it might have glitched because we’re both trying to perform the same quest actions on the same game tick.”

“Sure,” you said, “So, what do I do? Do I drop the key for you to pick up, or?”

“It disappears if you drop it. Trade me. Right-click, trade option.”

Once the key was traded, the two of you went down the trapdoor and wove your way back into the underground headquarters of a low-level cult, vacant for the moment but with evidence of rituals on the walls and floors, particularly in front of their bloodstained altar.

“Okay, we’re in their headquarters,” you said, making your character walk up the aisle, “What now? Priest guy didn’t give us any instructions.”

His avatar followed you and sat on the only programmed-to-be-sittable seat in the pew, his black cape (that he stole from a highwayman’s corpse) folding under his legs. “Actually, he did. You just clicked through his dialogue.”

“Because you’re here to tell me what to do, Quest Man.”

“Click on the—” Tenko heaved an enormous sigh, microphone sparking. “You figure it out. What’s clickable in this room? What has examine text?”

You hovered your mouse over most of the room, and nothing popped up with the examine option, except for something on the altar. “It’s this weird-looking, severed hand, isn’t it? This thing standing up on a slice of wrist by itself?” Your character walked nearer to it, fingers splayed widely enough to hold an in-game apple. “Weirdest ring-holder I’ve ever seen.”

When Tenko didn’t say anything, you glanced towards his character, but he was still sitting on the pew.

“Is this whole quest a pun? Because it’s one of the easiest quests, so they’re giving us a lot of guidance, so it’s like they’re holding our hands to get it through?”

That broke his silence: he scoffed into the mic. “I doubt it,” he said, “You need to grab the hand for the quest to keep going.”

“Fine,” you said, clicking the hand, and the instant your avatar touched it, a zombie spawned from the altar and began to attack you. “Dude! Did you know that thing was gonna jump me?” you asked, clicking away a few spaces but turning around to stab at it with your stupid bronze dagger, “And you just sat there? You could’ve warned me.”

“I did, and the priest did, and the duke who gave us this quest did. That’s why we went and baked all those pies in your inventory, yeah? For you to eat during this fight?”

Your character kept missing hits. “Yeah, but—like! I didn’t know the fight would be now.”

“Hey, relax.” Tenko’s voice sounded muffled, like his mouth was smushed as his fist dug into his cheek. “It’s only a level 12, and you’re level 9. Not too big of a difference. With your armour and weapon, you out-level it.”

The miss sound effect spoke for itself.

“You’ll kill it eventually. You won’t always hit zeroes, so it’ll pass.”

Though your character dealt her first damage, you frowned. “That’s…that’s actually really good advice, Tenko. The stuff you just said would work well if you were trying to calm someone down—reminding people of reality and emphasising perseverance over luck or natural talent are some of the better ways to encourage people.”

“Is that so,” he asked flatly, trying to put off a yawn and failing, “I haven’t—I wasn’t thinking about hero work. Just thinking about the game.”

“Well, it was nice,” you said, “and it seemed like it came naturally. Mind if I ask if something caused it?”

He yawned again, but he must have leant away from the mic so that you wouldn’t hear anything besides the initial inhale. “Nothing special happened today, but I’m too tired to get irritated. Therapy took a lot out of me today.”

Therapy. Therapy. Okay, so he’s got an official diagnosis somewhere. The word today implies that it’s a regular thing, and for some reason, this session was more intense. Intense emotionally? Physically? What kind of therapy? Well, they offered cognitive behavioural therapy on campus, but considering his non-traditional student status, his might be outsourced. Plus, if you, a former hero but technically a civilian, are being implemented into his care plan without being informed directly—

“You usually don’t go this long without saying some inane non sequitur,” said Tenko, that same, strange scratching picking up on the mic, “Snap out of it. You’re gonna get killed by the easiest quest boss in the game.”

Making an undignified noise, you shook yourself and spam-clicked on a cherry pie for your character to eat until she was healed completely, and then you clicked on the zombie to attack again.

“Why’d you pause when I said therapy? Surprised I’d go? Think that sort of thing is below me?”

“Of course not,” you said, trying to seem like you were focused on the fight so that he wouldn’t get nervous about sharing personal information, “Therapy good. Therapy great. Everyone needs to go to therapy.” Since he appeared to be taking this casually, you could probably ask after the type without it seeming too intrusive. “What kind? CBT? That’s what—”

“You think U.A. would arrange for me to get my cock and balls tortured? That wouldn’t qualify as therapy for me, certainly, and there’s no way that U.A. would pay for—”

“Not fucking cock-and-ball torture, you muppet; cognitive behavioural therapy. The sitting-down-with-therapist-to-talk-about-your-trauma-and-restructuring-the-way-you-think-through-practise type. You fuckin’ pervert,” you said, grinning at his avatar onscreen.

“Good to know. I didn’t know the name for it.”

“It’s good that you made this mistake with me instead of with Aizawa-sensei.”

“He’s probably more inclined towards bondage. Congratulations on killing your first boss,” said Tenko, and you blinked in surprise at your character: you’d defeated the zombie while staring at him. It fell to the ground, dropping bones and some sort of arrows.

“Take those. Check to see if they’re iron or steel. All right, equip them in your ammo slot for now so that they don’t take up an inventory space.”

You did so. “Why didn’t it attack me with the arrows if it were holding them?”

“There’s no logic to it besides that arrows are on its drop table. It’s coded to attack by punching you in the face, which doesn’t involve arrows.”

“Sure. Now, let’s get out of the cult basement; I wanna bake more pies until we can make apple ones. Did you know that the first record of fruit pies was around 1600? That means these fruit pies are anachronistic, since this game pitches itself as medieval.”

“Is that…” The hesitance had you beaming, daring him to actually ask it. “Is that not medieval?”

“Tenko, get your head out of your ass. For reference, 1600 is arguably the year the Azuchi-Momoyama period ended and the Edo period began. The game frames itself as medieval European, and 1600 is hard Renaissance-slash-Early-Modern. That’s Shakespeare times, screwboy.”

Only silence on your headphones. Character still on the pew. You made your character walk over to his to perform the curtsy emote, and in real life, you frowned. “Did I go too far there? Bit too annoying? I’m really sorry if I’m bothering you with this sort of thing; my friends say that I—”

“Nothing’s wrong. I needed a moment,” came Tenko’s voice, quiet and steady, “I could hear you smiling, and it was—it was good.”

Inhaling sharply, you pressed a fist to your mouth. Great. Fucking fabulous. Goddammit, you hadn’t aimed for it to go this way, but were you now the one getting flustered at something as simple as—

“Do most people consider a long pause in conversation rude? Did I fuck up with that?”

“No! No, of course not,” you were saying, trying to recover but still startled at how he was able to flip the vibe of your conversations in so few words, words that seemed so casual to him but grabbed you by the throat/cunt, “Especially since you followed-up with a check-in of how it might be strange; a lot of times, people will be comforted by checking to see if something’s okay with them personally…”

Frowning, you trailed off when another avatar entered the cult’s sanctuary and strode up the aisle. You hovered over the new guy’s stupid frog mask to see his username was Venomothman.

“Fucking great,” grumbled Tenko, “Here comes someone else to break our immersion. Ignore him. I’ll go ahead and fight the zombie so that we can get out of here.”

“The zombie’s dead. You don’t have to fight him,” you said, as Venomothman sat directly on top of Tenkopeito, with both avatars glitching as they took up the same space on the pew.

Tenko made some sort of noise in the back of his throat. “No, I have to kill it, too. It’s like each of us is the only one doing the quest, so in your version, the evil has been defeated, but in my version—it’s this thing called an instance—”

Venomothman: wow a couple questing together

Venomothman: bet ur one guy on two accounts

Venomothman: roleplaying that he can get a gf

The new guy’s in-text chat appeared in yellow font above his avatar’s frog-faced head, and somehow, the boggly, green eyes made his words more irritating.

Venomothman: leave the basement sometimes ya incel

“Some people are assholes recreationally,” said Tenko, making his avatar stand to go to the altar as the clatter of mechanical typing came through the mic, “Let me get rid of this fucking scumba—wait.”

Venomothman: ur doing too much work to stare at pixelated ass

“Would it be correct for a hero to insult someone online?”

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “Eh. You’re not on duty, and you’re not under any persona connected with your public branding. I would say go for it, but since you’re trying to be better with people, you may want to practise.”

Venomothman: somehow this is even more pathetic than never knowing the touch of a woman at all

“Then I’ll shut him down. The shit-talking isn’t bothering me so much as his breaking our immersion in the game,” said Tenko, grabbing the hand on the altar to start his instance of the fight, “I’m trying to cultivate a particular experience for you, and he’s a fucker who won’t stop yapping. Give me a second.”

Venomothman: is this what does it for you??

Venomothman: why no response

Venomothman: hard to type with one hand, isn’t it, ******* shithead

You laughed through your nose. “Cipherstone censors the word fuck?”

“It censors fuck; it censors cunt,” said Tenko, avatar casting a weak air spell at the zombie, slowly, slowly draining its health, “Everything else is fair game.”

“Will it censor variations of cunt? Like, if I typed in cuntbag? Or—actually, let’s find that out later,” you said, tapping the buttons on your earbud cord to turn up the volume, “Let’s practise navigating difficult social interactions. What’s our goal here in this conversation? Is it to continue to engage?”

“No.” His spell missed, and the zombie landed a hit on his character, prompting him to eat half of a pie. “It’s to close the interaction. Therefore, I need to say something concise that invites no response, right? I’m assuming that a simple fuck off is unacceptable.”

“You’re getting better at this, y’know?”

“Is that condescension I detect?”

“Only a little.” You slumped back against your headboard and reached for the bottle of water on your bedside table. “Actually—no. No condescension. Genuinely, Tenko, you’re picking up on this stuff easily, and it’s impressive. You’ll be able to walk little old ladies across the street with style and flair in no time.”

“Hilarious,” he said, voice restrained and tight at the mention of his name (too easy—he gives himself away aurally so freely; who knows what you could read off of him when you had a visual?), “I’m sure no one wants me touching them. Can I—hm.” He sounded like he was pressing his fist against his face somehow. “Why you keep bothering to compliment me? Most people bitch down to me like I’ve spat my own cum in their coffee.”

“Wha—how about because you deserve to be complimented? Listen,” you said, electing to brush over his vivid simile, “Silent admiration rots. By keeping in appreciation or gratitude, you’re not doing anyone any good. Kind regards are meant to be shared. Like, now, if I held back any positive thoughts concerning your growth, then you might not feel encouraged to keep going.”

“Like I’m gonna go around fucking complimenting ev—”

“I’m not saying you have to,” you said, “but consider trying it more often. See if anything turns out better. And be sure to be sincere about it—obviously.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Just consider it. So. What has he told us about himself based on how he’s insulted you?”

“He’s so low-level that it looks like he just created his account. His stats are even lower than ours,” said Tenko, speaking more quickly now that it was a subject he was more comfortable with, unequipping his wand to punch the zombie instead, “But he’s gone out of his way to get the frog mask.”

“His words, Tenko,” you said, unscrewing the cap and doing your fucking darndest to pinch your mouth from smiling at his slight hitch when you said his name, “I’m trying to get you to notice on whom he looks down and what that means for his personal social status.”

“Right,” he said a bit too quickly, a bit of a break in his voice on the word, “He’s debasing me for—oh, you’re brilliant. How the hell do you notice these things? He’s using basement dweller as insult, meaning he considers himself above that. Leave it to me.”

You muted yourself briefly to glug down water; you didn’t know how sensitive the mic was on your earbuds, but considering that you could catch onto Tenko’s occasional rustling of what sounded like plastic bags on his side or typing on his mechanical keyboard, as he was right now, you would prefer not to be emitting the same.

Tenkopeito: Your mom wishes you would come out of your room to talk with the rest of the family more often

You spluttered into your water bottle as the yellow text appeared above his head, and you unmuted yourself. “That is not what I meant for you to—”

“Was I being mean?” The mic caught the creak of Tenko’s chair as he leant back in it, and you could picture him defensive and pouting as he crossed his arms (and it struck you that you couldn’t imagine his face. Grimacing, you bit the inside of your cheek). “I wasn’t being rude. I could be so much crueller, but I thought this would be more of a devastating blow. Living on the same floor as your family isn’t the same as living in the basement, so I’m acknowledging his level of social power while still demeaning—”

Venomothman: i mean you right

Venomothman: lmao how tf did you know it was me

“I think we should log out,” you said, wiping the water off of your chin with the back of your hand and setting the bottle back on the bedside table.

Over Tenko’s microphone, you heard the shrill pitch of a custom ringtone and a startled but violent shuffle at the noise. “Hold on. I’m getting a call,” he said, voice coming through at a distance, as if he’d knocked his mic aside.

“Oh? Who is it?”

It took him a minute, but Tenko eventually replied, “A friend.”

That must be a damn good microphone, because you could still pick up on Tenko’s side of the conversation a few feet away. “Yes, hello?” he asked, a bit more brusquely than you’d heard him before.

“Oh. I didn’t,” he was saying, “How was I supposed to know that you’d—yes, that’s her. The one working with Aizawa-sensei.”

Very nice, you were thinking, as you unlocked your own phone to check your messages. Very good for him to have friends. Not that you would’ve pegged him as the absolute loner type, because he proved to be adaptable and quick on his feet, but since Aizawa’d recruited you for interpersonal help, you’d considered that he may not have friends. So, good on him for having at least one friend, it seemed, who cared enough to create an account on some stupid video game solely to annoy him.

“—cool of you to make an account to hang out with me. Stop fucking laughing; I am trying to be kind to you, shitstain. Okay. I don’t know. I haven’t been in contact with him in the past two days. I’ve been busy. Let me check.” Tenko leant back towards the mic to address you. “Do we have a schedule for the rest of the week? For instance, are we doing this again on Thursday?”

“I thought we were,” you said, scanning your room for your planner so that you could check your calendar, “Did something come up?”

“It’s not imperative that I go,” Tenko was saying into your ear, while you picked up your laptop to walk over to your U.A.-issued desk, “but another friend who’s been out of town will finally be back then. We might hang out.”

“Psh, go with your friends,” you said, delighted that he had more than one (fighting envy that it was so easy for them to meet up), “We can do this another time.”

“Understood,” Tenko said and backed away from the mic.

Venomothman: so have you sucked his dick yet

Tenko’s incensed shout of “Touya!” had you turning down the volume.

Venomothman: not to be the world’s worst wingman, but my dude is packing. and goes commando all the time.

Venomothman: and i would know. “i” sometimes “did” our “laundry”

You: what’s with all those quotation marks

Venomothman: and do you know the last time it was sucked? never

(Fucking hell. This Touya was walking you back into forbidden territory: the sexualisation of Tenko. After that first session, when you’d been turned on by his confident, rumbling voice as he’d given you an order, you’d felt guilty for sexualising him for the rest of the night. It was as if instead of friend-zoning him, you’d sex-zoned him, only able to see him as a sexual person/object. For the sake of your mission task, that felt unfair.

Or maybe you weren’t even sexualising him. Maybe your brain was appropriately interpreting what he’d done as sexual.

Whatever. Something in your gut was begging you not to see Tenko only through romantic or sexual lenses right now, and you couldn’t explain why.

And talking about Tenko’s apparently massive dick was not helping.)

Tenkopeito: Touya if you don’t ******* shut up I am going to tear off your other arm

Venomothman: no need, boss man

You heard Tenko sigh and say into his phone, sounding exhausted, “I’m not your boss anymore, Touya.”

Venomothman: no need, douchebag

***

Draped over the side of your bed, you dangled a shoelace in front of the gap in an attempt to coax Dango out from underneath. “Dango, sweetie,” you said, whipping the shoelace to the side, “Come out here so that I can look you in the eyes. Where is my planner, you whore?”

At a firm knock on your door, you shot up, dropping the lace. “Never mind,” you said, sliding off the bed, “Stay hidden.”

You opened your door on Aizawa, bare arm raised in mid-knock, wisps of hair plastered to his forehead by dried sweat, and a sweatshirt tied around his waist. He took two seconds to look over you before saying, “Get dressed. Civilian clothes. You have three minutes.”

Throwing on yesterday’s outfit, you rushed to follow Aizawa out of the dorm and off campus, nearly stepping on his heels while he wove through night pedestrians, pulling on his own sweatshirt to minimise skin contact once the crowd thickened.

You flipped up your coat collar to sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Is this a test?”

Aizawa combed his fingers back through his hair, gaze straight ahead. “Not for you.”

“Right.” You stepped more lightly, naturally falling back into patrol patterns: noting exits (narrow alleyways favouring the left side, underground into the subway station), checking vantage points (upper-storey windows in the resident buildings, non-industrial rooftops), honing in on light sources (yellow- and LED-tinted streetlamps, ambience from open businesses) and physical presence (close enough to brush shoulders with passerby [putting you on edge, because the slightest touch could be pivotal]). You had to consciously unclench your jaw, body flooded with stress it hadn’t felt in months. Swiping at the inner corner of your eye, you asked, “Does it have anything to do with the guy in the black hoodie and face mask following us?”

Aizawa laughed through his nose, once. “All right, then. What’s that ice cream place you and Shinsou went to all the time? Take us there.”

Bewildered, you changed directions to head towards Nekozawa’s, with Aizawa placing a hand on your shoulder to slow your pace, and by the time you pushed open Nekozawa’s glass door to the glowing, pink parlour, you were prepared to hold it open for your follower in the face mask. You watched his broad back as he ordered some ungodly, radioactive-blue ice cream with gummy bears before retreating to a table outside despite the dropping temperature, and Aizawa gestured you forward so that he could pay for the three of you.

Holding your ice cream, you hesitated at the door, swaying underneath the seasonal cat decorations dangling from the ceiling.

“Go on,” said Aizawa, retrieving the U.A. card from his wallet, “I’ve got to make a phone call, so don’t wait up. Don’t be too harsh on him; we’re here because he did a good job in the field today. Tailing you was extra practise.”

Nodding, you nudged open the door, bracing yourself at the cold, night air, and let it drift shut behind you as you approached the table, the farthest one from the pink lights.

Hood pulled up, Tenko bent over his blue monstrosity, face mask hanging by a loop over his left ear. Scuffing your boots on the concrete to announce your presence, you sat across from him, setting your cup on the cast iron before swinging your leg over the bench. You managed a cursory glance over what appeared to be a sketchbook before he closed it, and once he’d stowed it away, he swopped his spoon to his dominant hand to keep eating.

“You draw, Tenko?” To make him feel more comfortable, you kept your gaze towards Aizawa inside on the phone. “Do you think you’re any good?”

“Not yet. But I’m gonna be,” he said, clicking his pen and clenching it in his left hand, “I’ve got all these fucking artist’s gloves, so I might as well put ‘em to use.”

“Very nice,” you said, nodding, closing your eyes as you dipped your spoon into your ice cream, “But as a reminder, you don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it. I love doing stuff I’m absolute shit at. It reminds me of medieval bestiaries. They didn’t know shit about animals, but, boy howdy, did they have fun illustrating them. Did you know a weasel used to be called a polecat?”

Tenko huffed, his face mask fluttering. “It really is you.”

“Of course it is,” you said, beaming, and for the first time, you looked at him.

Tension flooded your teacup of a body and overflowed into the saucer and onto the floor. Heightened by the cold, a vein on the back of your hand strained and pulsed visibly, and, jaw locking, you lunged over the tabletop to grab him by the shoulders, shaking him.

“What the hell is wrong with you‽” You climbed over the table, pushed his ice cream out of the way (he shot out a hand to save it from toppling off the table, and he ripped off his face mask to set it aside before it fell to the ground), and planted your foot on his thigh and your elbows on his chest, caging him in as you forced him flat on the bench. “Why the fuck are you using your real name in your fucking Cipherstone username, you fucking moron‽ People could fucking track you!”

The man who had been Shigaraki Tomura eyed your fists in his hoodie and then his cup of ice cream. “You didn’t have a problem with it before.”

“I—” This idiot! “I didn’t know it was you. There are a lot of Tenkos.”

“Then there’s my logic,” he said, hands dangling by his sides, making no attempt to touch you—you didn’t know if you appreciated it or not. “I thought you knew who I was.”

“No, I fucking—I would have given you advice that was more specific to you, over the spiel I was giving interns.” Releasing your grip on his hoodie, you sat back up and scooted over on the tabletop. Though you wanted to keep holding him, to hug him after all he’s been through, he probably wouldn’t want that. “I’m—sorry about tackling you. I, uh—fuck,” you said, and, grimacing, you slid his ice cream back to him and reached across for your own, pretending with everything you’ve got that it was perfectly normal that you were sitting on a table next to Shigaraki Tomura, who’s been teaching you to play a video game, who’s apparently living at the end of the hall, who’s decorated his door with Eri’s silver tinsel for Christmas, who’s banned from drinking caffeine, who could rest his fucking head on your thigh if he wanted. Normal. Yeah.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” he said, fishing out a gummy bear like you hadn’t lunged at him, “Your reaction was reasonable.”

“It—it wasn’t, really,” you said, laughing nervously, “I wasn’t expecting you. I mean, no one knows what—what happened to you. Afterwards. It was really unclear.”

“It was that way on purpose,” said Tenko, “It was thought to be better to emphasise the total destruction of All for One instead of whatever happened to his leftovers.” He shifted a bear to his back molars to bite into the frozen gummy better. “Nezu-sensei decided it was better to keep it muddled for now.”

Muddled was a good way to put it. There’d been so much chaos at the end of the war that so much never was accounted for. You’d think that the location of Shigaraki’s body would be high on the list, but satisfaction was found simply in the splintered, spectacular remains of AFO. Shigaraki’s name wasn’t cleared, per se, but in the aftermath, Midoriya especially stressed that yes, Shigaraki committed atrocities, but he’d been abused, groomed, and literally bodily possessed by AFO to think that way. Didn’t excuse him, but wasn’t entirely his fault.

The locations of the other PLF members—well, the core of the League, really—were public, if not vague. Spinner was in the States at a rehab that specialised in heteromorph trauma; Toga was at a local women’s facility called Sakura Grove, and Dabi was living with his family—he must have been that Touya on the phone, holy shit.

So, here he was, sitting on the bench at the same ice cream parlour you visited with the same friends who fought him, hunched over in oversized, black clothes you suspected were Aizawa’s, broad shoulders and faded scars out of place in the pink lights, white hair pulled back in a blunt ponytail with his bangs flopping over his forehead, seemingly unbothered by the toe of your boot pressing against his denim-covered thigh.

God. He’s scratched at his neck so much that it looks like he’s been beheaded with a blunt axe.

Tenko’s eyes flickered up to you, their colour deepening to crimson in the tinted lights. “So. You’ve got questions.”

“Are you okay?”

Tenko swallowed with effort, scowling. “Don’t start with a hard one.”

“Right,” you said, throat drying, “Who knows you’re staying at U.A.?”

“Faculty and staff. My therapist. The police force. The ramen shop Aizawa-sensei and I go to. The intensive rehab I was at before. The top of the hero commission. Touya, Touya’s father, Spinner, Toga. Eri and Midoriya,” he said, tongue swiping over his lower lip, “You.”

Somehow both fewer and more than you’d figured. “What exactly…is the situation? Aizawa-sensei was vague.”

“Officially, I’m like Eri: a ward of U.A. My old rehab thought I was good enough to live off their campus, so I’m back here, where I can be watched by people capable enough to bring me down if I go crazy again,” he said, brow furrowed as he traced the side of his cup with his spoon, “I should resent that, but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go, especially somewhere as comfortable as this. This is fucking stupid to say aloud, but fucking—fuckin’ All Might is the closest thing I have to family now, along with Midoriya.”

“I’m not following.”

“My grandma was the holder of One for All before All Might had it.” He pointed at you with his spoon. “So you can make the connection from there. But it’s stupid; I’m stupid—” He was shaking his head and staring into his lap. “—because it’s like I have a brother in Midoriya and a goddamn father in All Might—and then Aizawa-sensei’s acting like a dad, too, to me and Eri, and Nezu-sensei? Nezu-sensei is so fucking cool,” said Tenko, dragging his hand down his face, “He’s got a driver’s license! I don’t even have one of those. And he can type fucking 210 words per minute with those little rat paws, and I’m still getting used to using all five fingers, fuck.”

Cute. You scraped the bottom of your cup. “Hey, I think you type well.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why it takes me so long to reply in the in-game chat function. Why I prefer communicating over voice call. Learning new habits, and shit.” Tenko stabbed his ice cream with his spoon. “Nezu-sensei has arranged for me to train as an aftermath-clean-up hero. I had been—” His fingers on one hand circled the thumb of the other. “—in discussion with him in rehab about what I could do, and we decided I could consistently help when there’s collapsed buildings after attacks; I could dust the wreckage so that we could find hostages or make it easier to clean up and rebuild, and Aizawa-sensei and All Might-sensei have been working with me to control what parts of what I touch gets dusted so that I could create pitfall traps for holding criminals. It’s…going. It’s going,” he said, curling his lips in his mouth to moisten them, and with narrowed, determined eyes, he took another bite of ice cream, the blue staining the inside of his lips.

“Tenko, that’s a really cool application of your quirk. I hope you can find more,” you said, tilting your head and smiling down at him, “but—I have to ask—aren’t you tired?”

Tenko rolled his eyes. “Of course. You’re part of the group ensuring I don’t have caffeine.”

“No, I mean,” you said, shaking your head, “I mean, you don’t have to be perceived as useful. You’re—you’re just fine if you wanted to rest. You’re worthwhile just as you, not as—as a job, as a, I don’t know, a redeemed hero or anything. You can just be Tenko.”

“I know. My therapist keeps reminding me. But one of the most vivid memories I have from when I was living in that house,” said Tenko, sneering, “is that I desperately wanted to be a hero and that I would pretend to be one a lot. While I’m aware that I can never atone for what I’ve done, if I did nothing but rest, I’d be alone with my thoughts. And with what I’m learning to do, as a hero, someday, someone might…need me. Need my help. I imagine that’s a good feeling.”

You sat back, leaning on your hands, the cast-iron pattern cutting into your palms, to survey him. “You’re very much re-writing my first impressions of you as my gaming buddy and as the post-war Shigaraki. You’re surprisingly well-adjusted.”

He snorted. “I shouldn’t think it’s surprising. I’ve had almost a year and a half in intensive rehab, and I’m still in therapy every day.” He started listing on his fingers, starting with his thumb. “I’m on antidepressants; I know where my next meal’s coming from and when I’ll get it; I consistently have a safe roof over my head, and I know my friends are getting that, too. I have mentors who care for me as a human person instead of as a tool. I get to stay in contact with my friends and get to make new ones,” he said, nodding curtly at you before quickly looking away, “I’m fucking away from that sadistic fuckface. He’s goddamn dead and burned away to nothing. That’s the main thing. Everything else is a bonus.”

Tenko sighed, bangs fluttering with the movement, his shoulders straining as he leaned onto both his elbows on the table. He sighed again and scooped the last gummy bear out of his cup, and you let the silence carry on while you finished eating.

“Long phone call,” Tenko said eventually.

An increasingly grumpy Aizawa was leaning against the glittery wall inside, phone between his ear and shoulder, and furiously scraping the inside of his ice cream cup.

“Yeah,” you said, “but it’s been good talking to you, Tenko. I really appreciate you telling me all of this.”

“I would’ve talked about it sooner, but I figured you knew who I was and didn’t want to address it,” said Tenko, tapping his fingers one by one on the table.

Pulling the collar of your coat closer to your neck, you frowned, hesitating on how to phrase it. You watched your breath cloud in the night air before settling on, “There’s an off-switch?”

Brow pinching very slightly, Tenko followed your gaze to his hand, with all five fingers coming to rest on the cast iron, and he tapped all five of them on it for emphasis. “Yeah. There always has been. All for One kept it from me. Power of belief kept me jittery and alert my whole life.”

“So long as you thought you’d destroy anything you touched, you would?”

He nodded. “That bitch.”

“Agreed. We should kill him.”

And Tenko laughed. Just for a moment, barely making any noise, but he smiled with his teeth, grin stretching across his face as he looked away and eventually closing his lips, the smile lingering for a few more precious seconds.

***

You closed your laptop to answer the phone at work, clearing your throat to ready your receptionist voice before you picked up. “U.A. University Administration; how may I help you?”

“I need you to fucking murder me,” Tenko spat through the phone, angry and panicked, “I need you to rip out my bones and suck out my guts through a straw. He fucking let me hold onto them, and I’ve fucking gone and lost such a fucking iconic piece of—”

“Tenko, please, take a breath,” you said, relaxing your customer service mode but clutching the phone to your ear, and after catching the eye of the woman with jars of strawberry preserves waiting to see Nezu, you slumped over in your seat so that she couldn’t see you over the desk’s overhang. “Tell me what’s wrong. We can fix it. Are you alone? Is everyone else busy? Do you need to come sit with me?”

“I—fuck,” he said, and you heard some deliberately slow breathing, but his voice still had an irate, twitchy edge afterwards. “During our practise patrol last night, Aizawa-sensei was talking about support equipment for me. I’d never given it much thought, because it’s always been just me and my hands. He leant me his Eraser Goggles for me to think about for my—and I don’t know where they fucking are,” he said, inhaling sharply on the last word, “I’d left them on my desk, but I’d taken them up to the roof to sketch them, and then I’d brought them back to my dorm—”

“And Aizawa-sensei must have swung by to pick them up since then,” you said, pushing yourself back to slide in your swivel chair to the back of the reception desk, “because he was here at the beginning of my shift to print something off, and the goggles are on top of the printer. Relax, Tenko.”

“Hooooooly fuck, you’re kidding,” said Tenko, audibly deflating, and you smiled to yourself as you slid their band around your wrist.

You kicked yourself back up to the front. “You’re okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble. I’ll bring them by at the end of my shift.” You sat up straight, and the strawberry preserves woman was shooting a concerned look in your direction. “I’m at work, though, so I think we’d better end the call soon. Anything else you need?”

Tenko hummed into the phone. “Not really. You can’t be that busy.”

You smiled again, feeling—feeling domestic, as if he were your boyfriend calling you during work hours. How strange, Shigaraki Tomura. How interesting. “Would you believe I was grinding in Cipherstone when you called?”

“And you don’t call yourself a gamer,” he said, clearing his throat multiple times, “What skills?”

“Woodcutting and firemaking,” you said, opening your laptop again, “Are you feeling under the weather? Your voice had a bit of a rasp there.” Sounded like his old voice for a moment.

“Further cementing that Aizawa-sensei’s right to be worried about you. He says your brain’s going haywire analysing any detail work you can get, because you’re not out in the field anymore,” said Tenko, clearing his throat again (?), “Am I your new project?”

“Tell me what’s wrong, lest I pick up some damn throat lozenges for you before I come home,” you said, and a voice in the back of your head screamed that that threat was extremely cosy and intimate, especially since you’re claiming both of you have a home in the same place—which, sure, you both lived on the same hallway, but so did Aizawa and Eri, and please shut up; Shimura Tenko needs a friend, not a lover right now. Besides, that stupid hallway wasn’t really home for either of you but was more like a temporary holding cell.

“Fine. I’ve been throwing up all morning.”

“Thank you,” you said, electing not to make a pregnancy joke, “Do you need to see Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m used to it, and I’ve already talked to her about it. I threw up a lot out of anxiety and stress when I was growing up with All for One, and now I’m throwing up because my body can’t handle the amount of food it’s getting regularly, which is fucking ridiculous, since it’s still less than a normal person’s version of three meals a day.”

What. The fuck. How can he casually drop details of deep trauma like it’s nothing? How could AFO let a child keep vomiting out of stress for years and years and never interfere? Well. Yeah, he could. You supposed that Shigaraki’s voice, as you first heard it as the USJ incident, was the ultimate result of that heavy strain on his throat for years. Explains some things about his teeth back then, too.

God. If AFO weren’t dead, you’d strangle him. Keeping a child physically weak because he’d be easier to mould. It was known that AFO had been psychologically manipulating Shigaraki, but now that you thought about it, manipulating his physical growth would have served AFO, too, since he was planning to move into Shigaraki’s body.

And what did this guy do now that he’s got bodily autonomy? Oh. Just. Play some video games. Talk with his friends. Try out some new hobbies. Make crafts with Eri.

It’s a shame AFO didn’t have a grave, because you’d be skiving off work to drown it in acid.

“My stomach is killing me,” said Tenko, “I’ve got to hang up to drink something and go to sleep. Knock on my door when you get home. I want to start a new quest as soon as you finish work.”

Home. He’d said it, too. He probably didn’t mean it in the same, domestic way that you’d been entertaining, but it made your heart swell. “Okay, Tenko. See you then.”

***

His therapist had assigned him homework: go on a planned, public outing with a peer, and stay out for at least an hour.

It wasn’t exactly a picnic you were packing, you kept telling yourself, scooting behind Tenko to get to the spice cabinet in the dorm kitchen, because that’d be too close to a date rather than homework. But the two of you packed a meal to take, with Eri sitting on the kitchen counter while she nibbled at rabbit-cut apple slices, and she held the thermos of decaf tea in her lap until it was time to stow it away.

After a short train ride and a quiet walk through midtown, Tenko stopped you in front of the back gate to what appeared to be a restored, historical estate, judging by the golden shachihoko shibi on each corner of polished hip-and-gable rooftops of the extensively aristocratic—mansion? palace?—that you could make out in across the distance of its sprawling grounds, the immediacy of which was the excessively well-kept, traditional garden that you and Tenko were breaking into.

“Is this legal?” you asked as Tenko reached through the grate to unlatch the doorway.

“I have an in with the gardener,” he said, sweeping the gate open for you and gesturing brusquely for you to enter.

“No, that wasn’t a joke,” you said, taking the few steps inside, finding yourself planted onto a polished, level stepping stone, and staring down a squeaky clean tsukubai despite the thin layer of frost over the water’s surface as the whole bowl began to freeze, “You can’t be doing anything even vaguely illegal, Tenko.”

When you said his name, he closed his eyes, pausing for just a hair in his relatching the gate, before facing you and shifting the strap of his bag farther up his shoulder. “Prude. Yes, we have permission from the owner.”

He kept looking back over his shoulder at you as he led you through the gardens, hopping across stepping stones to pass over a carefully shaped brook that led to a tiny waterfall near stone lanterns, weaving through trellises with the wintry shells of wisteria vines and shaped evergreens. He tutted and rolled his eyes when you stopped at the waterlily-coated koi pond, its fish swimming and flicking their tails in the artificially heated water (for some, odd reason, what appeared to be a compact duck coop had been constructed near the pond’s edge, its wood new and un-bleached by the sun like the rest of garden décor). You’d been about to ask about it when Tenko had jumped out of his skin at the sound of a deer scare, bamboo tapping stone.

“Stop laughing,” Tenko said, cheeks burning (and you tried not to take too much pleasure in that, but you couldn’t help it).

“Oh, a sensitive boy, a delicate boy,” you said, grinning as you hopped onto the same stone as him, cool, clouding breaths mixing together in the proximity, and you yourself could feel heat rise to your face. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Good traits to have, actually. Means you’re feeling secure and comfortable in your surroundings, if you’re off-set that easily.” Feeling bold—it was the cold; it was how the proximity already flustered him; it was how his hands were full because of the bag; it was—whatever—you reached for his silly All Might scarf and re-tied the front, fluffing it up to cover more of his neck.

You made the mistake of making eye contact: full of caution, his eyes kept darting from your hands to your face, searching for something, his lips parted, otherwise completely fucking frozen.

Were you making him uncomfortable? You stilled, your fingers still in the fringe of his scarf, tension tightening in your chest and jaw (clenching).

Tenko noticed. And—and to this day, you can’t believe he fucking did this—he ran his tongue over his lower lip and lifted his chin, exposing more of his neck to you. He then was suddenly very interested in the koi pond, the ruddiness spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

Throat dry, you gave his scarf a final tug and patted it (?) to show (??) a job well done (???). “Yeah,” you said, smoothly, like a smooth person, like someone who adjusts scarves of hot, in-process-of-reformation villains on the regular, “Where are we going?”

Tenko spun on his heel and strode away, muttering what sounded like, “Right into my grave.”

You pretended not to hear it and let him lead you to the only building unattached to the main house: a small, traditional teahouse that had a recent addition to it in the back. The creak of the bamboo engawa when you climbed onto it was muffled underneath the bright pealing of windchimes strung across the covered porch. Tenko was already kneeling at the tearoom’s sunken fireplace inside, its handle carved into a fish, fiery as its kindling, and was unpacking the travel teacups from the bag as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the cold, enveloped by the comfortable heat trapped inside by the cushioned walls.

Tenko must have arranged for this space to have been prepared for you. A kotatsu with floor cushions was tucked near the fireplace, pre-heated, with two further space heaters in the unoccupied corners, cords trailing into what must be a hallway linking the traditional and modern rooms, the latter of which was shut off from view. Beside a red-tinted wooden dresser stood an oddly empty tokonoma, and instead of a scroll or painting, amidst bits of pieces of scotch tape hastily half-torn off the back was a shittily cut-out, paper heart.

Shaking your head, you took a step towards Tenko, and the floor chirped at you, freezing you in place.

“Yeah, I don’t know why they do that,” said Tenko, pushing on his knees to stand, “They just do.”

“These must be nightingale floors,” you said, crossing to the kotatsu, a bird under each step, “The chirping’s caused by the way the nails rub against the v-shaped clamps holding the floor together. Have you been to Nijō Castle in Kyoto? These are in the hallway—supposedly used as a security measure, but who knows.”

“You need a hobby.” Tenko ripped the paper heart from the back of the tokonoma, crumpling it in his fist. A shred of it remained under the scrap of tape on the wall, which he bent towards to scrape off with a blunt fingernail.

“I have several,” you said, easing down onto a cushion and unfolding your legs underneath the kotatsu blanket, the luxurious heat swaddling your legs and hips. You fought the urge to curl up underneath it entirely.

“How many of them involve getting your ass thrashed by me in Cipherstone?” Tenko retrieved the bag from the sunken fireplace before returning to the kotatsu, and he sat on your left, resting the bag between the two of you.

You took the thermos of decaf tea when he handed it to you. “Tenko, you’ve been playing that game for years, and I just began. Of course my ass is gonna be thrashed by—you know how the game works. You have all of this previous information about the game that I don’t have.”

Tenko scoffed and slid your teacup across the kotatsu’s surface. “As if I could conceal any information from you. You’re too…eh.” He waved it off, shaking his head.

“I’m too what?” You unscrewed the thermos lid, and steam surged upwards, rising to caress the planes of your face.

“It’s been unfair of Aizawa-sensei to make me tail you,” said Tenko, leaning your way, all five fingers curled around his own teacup as he stretched across the tabletop. “I’d have a chance of success if it were anyone else.”

“I’ll give you that,” you said, pouring steaming, amber tea with slices of yuzu into Tenko’s cup, “You’re getting quite good at it, not that you were bad in the first place. But yeah, it’s a bit mean of him to test your tracking skills on me.” He’d never said to stop, so you poured until liquid almost overflowed at the rim.

He gasped at the heat but nudged his teacup back to his place at the table, unable to hold it in his palm anymore. “I think I would’ve preferred working with Hound Dog-sensei for that. He’s less detail-oriented. I could win, if it weren’t you.” Jutting out his lower lip, Tenko glared down at his tea for a moment before slumping in his seat to slurp at the tea without picking it up.

“Don’t feel bad about it. It was literally and actually my focus for hero work, profiling and detail shit and being aware of my surroundings. Information stuff. Infiltration stuff.” Setting the thermos on the far corner, you cupped your hands loosely around your teacup, appreciating the warmth and getting cosier by the minute.

Tenko was rooting through the bag for the other thermoses, full of sukiyaki for each of you. “It’s clear you’ve worked hard to hone your skills. Were you this talented as a student?”

You accepted the new thermos, fingers clenching tightly around it. “Uh. I think I may have been better back then. More focused. More passionate, anyway. I had to think about it really hard back then, make conscious decisions to notice things, and now I think I do it instinctively. I think I’m slipping because of that.”

“Hm,” said Tenko, tongue rubbing over his teeth behind closed lips, and he opened his mouth to say something but shut it, instead twisting off the cap to his soup thermos. He took the first sip of sukiyaki broth and—and was absolutely beautiful (you couldn’t make sense of it beyond that; he was a mess of details that you couldn’t fit together into a larger picture that made any sense: white eyelashes light against his cheeks as they fluttered shut, face muscles relaxed, scars overlapping with laugh lines, cracked lips becoming moistened by the soup, both hands cupped around his thermos like a child, no strain to his posture, baggy hoodie swallowing him up, kotatsu blanket yanked up to his hips to cover his crossed legs, scar on the corner of his mouth delicately shifting with his baffled smirk when he caught you staring, a strange pink rising to the tips of his ears). “What?”

Uh. Hm. You pinched the bridge of your nose and then moved to rub your eyelids. “What were you going to say about me?” you asked, and you withdrew your hand from your face to raise the soup thermos to your lips, taking a mouthful of noodles and the sweet, salty broth.

Tenko shook his head. “I’m trying to avoid thoughts that fall back into my old habits.”

“Try me,” you said, holding his gaze when he met it, “I won’t tell.”

Weary, he broke eye contact, and he fixated on fishing out a certain slice of green onion. “We needed someone like you back then.”

Back then? When he—oh.

Back in the League.

Though you attempted to hide your grin by taking a sip of sukiyaki, you caught his eyes flicker to it. “You would’ve taken me? You would’ve let me in?”

“Would you have joined?” he shot back, a bit too quickly.

“No,” you said, rolling your shoulders and settling down farther underneath the kotatsu, “Never. But since you shared something you shouldn’t’ve, I’ll do the same.” You set your thermos down to rub your eyes again—God, you couldn’t look at him for too long, lest your intrusive thoughts hand you your ass. “I thought about it. About joining you.”

You dragged your hand down your face, peeking between your fingers at a muted clink. Tenko was staring at you, something fucking unreadable in his scrounched eyes, and both hands lay five-fingered and flat on the kotatsu, steam from his open thermos fluffing up hair on one side of his head. “You’re not serious. You wouldn’t have.”

“Not in the way you think,” you said, tilting your head back, “but I often thought, in the aftermath of the Paranormal Liberation Raid, what I could’ve done, if I’d known what I know now. And as the rest of the war was unfolding, I only wanted it more.”

Tenko blinked, slowly. “Tell me what you would’ve done.”

“Oh, you would’ve hated me, down to the dregs of my very soul,” you said, shifting to sit on your knees, “I would’ve started after your fight with Re-Destro, after the PLF was established. When you were letting allllllllll those heroes in, the sidekicks, the nobodies, anyone who seemed like they were with the cause. I would’ve infiltrated. Slipped in without notice. Hawks did, with the Commission, but I would’ve been going in as a free agent.”

“No one notices a U.A. student slide in between the masses. Re-Destro’s lackeys wouldn’t notice you at the door like I would. You get in,” Tenko said, taking his thermos in hand again but still engrossed in you, “What then?”

“There was a short period of time between the PLF establishment and your procedure, right? Around a month? That’s when I go. I worm my way into the good graces of some of the nine lieutenants—I’ve decided my pipeline would’ve been Geten to Toga to you. You’d just come out of an enormous battle, with Re-Destro and that city and Gigantomachia for a whole month. I heard you were bandaged up, on crutches, that you’d lost fingers that you regrew in that regeneration tank,” you said, eyes on his hands, one in a fist in his lap and the other around his thermos, five fingers pressing onto the grip but the pinkie finger hitched farther up than the rest, “That you’d given a speech and made your appearances regardless. That you’d pushed yourself to your limit and then broke yourself a little more. And you would’ve loathed me, because I would’ve come in, earned my way to your side, and I would’ve put my hand on your shoulder, slid it up your neck to cup your cheek to ask Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to rest?” You smiled and huffed, shoving it down, and though his hard stare should’ve pinned you to your seat, you pushed on the corner of the kotatsu to edge yourself over to his side, a knee on his cushion. “I like to think that you’ve sighed, sulked a bit, reluctant to admit anything was wrong at all, because back then, you had no use for moonlight. But I would’ve made you look at me, taken you to a bed, made you lie down until your eyes fluttered shut and the tension swept through your body and left. And you would rest,” you said, finding yourself leaning over him very slightly, knees touching his, just enough so that he leant backwards just a fraction, “I would’ve made that month so soft for you. I would’ve taken care of you, when nobody was fucking paying attention to you in the way that they should’ve. I fucking—I wanted it.” You gripped the front of his hoodie, fist grasping more fabric than necessary to shake him. “I wanted it. I wanted to care for you. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know. And you were fucking alone, in an unfamiliar place, and it kills me to think about that.”

You ducked your head to wipe your watery eyes on your sleeve, taking a breath—and realising what you were doing. You loosened your grip, but before you could pull away, Tenko was cat-like quick to grab your sleeve—why won’t he touch you?

“I wouldn’t have accepted your help,” he said, quiet, controlled, holding you down with his eyes, hand shifting to curve under your sleeved wrist, signalling that you could escape at any time, “That was after the worst month of my life, fighting Machia, and I wouldn’t have accepted it. I had too much to do. I would’ve shaken you off.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve.”

“I would’ve,” he said, a bare finger, featherlight, skimming over the tender, bare skin of the underside of your wrist (oh, wow), “I wouldn’t trust that easily in that short of a time. You’d have met me, and that’d be it. If you’d persisted, I would’ve ripped you to shreds and tossed you aside.”

“Tenko,” you said, both relief and tightness blooming from your wrist, “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

The hallway shoji slammed open, somehow rattling as it slid in its tracks and shook the walls, and you and Tenko scrambled apart, with you jolting backwards on your hands, grappling for your seat cushion, and Tenko banging his thermos on the kotatsu, hastily wrestling with keeping it upright as he flung his body to the side.

“Hey, fuck you, Touya,” Tenko spluttered out, elbowing himself upright as—as fucking Dabi strode inside, hands in the deep pockets of his black sweatpants. “You said you’d stay in the main house.”

“Don’t mind me,” said Touya, cool as you please, raising both of his hands in defence, “I had to ensure you’re not fucking in my bed.”

“What is—” Tenko clambered to his feet to cross to him, chirping with each stomp, and whisper-shouting once he’d corralled Touya into a far corner. “I said we’d hang out later today, Touya. You swore you’d stay inside and watch Naruto this afternoon.”

The polite thing to do would be to appear fascinated by the tea. You returned to your cushion and poured yourself another cup.

“Yeah, but I’ve been told I’ve got shit to do later. I’ve got to go to this fuckin’—fuckin’ family stuff. I don’t wanna get into it,” said Touya, at full volume, “and I wanted to check that your girl was real. Y’know, she looks nothing like someone who’d have GinzengTea as her username. Have you given it to her already?”

“Shut the fuck up. I was just about to do that, if you hadn’t interrupted, cockhead.”

“Cool,” he said, a bird-note as he shifted his weight, “I wanna see what she thinks.”

“Hell, no—”

“I helped pick ‘em out. Let me watch and have an ohagi, and I’ll leave,” said Touya, chirping towards you before he finished the sentence, and Tenko followed him, muttering under his breath.

Touya sat on the bare tatami next to you, joints cracking as he yanked the kotatsu blanket up his legs, shooting you a small salute and a concerningly charming smile. “Hey,” he said, tilting his head, eyes half-lidded, smile stretching to show more of his even, white teeth, “I’ve seen you before, yeah? When was the last time you laid eyes on me?”

Tenko pelted him in the chest with a plastic-wrapped ohagi, cutting off the ooze of charisma. “Show-off,” he said, nudging another sweetened rice ball your way.

You nodded but didn’t move to unwrap it, since you were still working on your sukiyaki. “I’m surprised you remember, Touya,” you said, the name feeling strange on your tongue, “It must’ve been years since I elbowed you in the tit.”

Eyes lighting the fuck up, you snapped towards Tenko when he laughed into his plastic wrap: still not loud, still not making any vocalisation with it, but releasing a heavy, sharp burst of air with a wide, open grin. He hunched over to hide more of it, using both hands to unwrap his ohagi—and in the moment he realised he’d been unwrapping it with only his pointer fingers and thumbs, he dropped the rest of his fingers onto the rice ball, still smirking to himself.

Biting your lip in your own smile, you turned back to Touya (you caught his moment of mild alarm at how thrilled you were when Tenko laughed—or maybe it was alarm at Tenko laughing at all—but Touya relaxed his eyebrows and shut his mouth the second you faced him again). “God, yeah, it must have been before that last battle that we’d met in a fight, and I’d gotten close enough to hit you, and…” You shook your head. “Actually, I don’t wanna talk about that stuff. It’s not who we are now.”

“That’s fine.” Touya nodded towards Tenko and took a bite of his ohagi. “Shimura, don’t you have something to give her?”

Shimura. That was his last name, you supposed, but wasn’t it odd that Tenko called Touya by his given name and that Touya called Tenko by his family name? Tenko didn’t make you call him Shimura. Well, you supposed that there’s only one Shimura now, and because of the number of Todorokis, it paid to be specific—

“Here.” Tenko set a flat box in front of you, flipping the buckle of his bag back over. “I was going to give it to you with more formality, but since this bastard showed up, I’m doing it like this.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, brow furrowed, you unpacked a pair of pale blue headphones, soft to the touch with a mesh headband so that your head wouldn’t ache.

“Noise-cancelling,” Tenko said, gabbling, frowning very slightly, “Rechargeable. There’s a detachable microphone so it can function as a headset. I wanted to do something good for you.” His eyes darted towards Touya, and they dropped to his ohagi’s bulging filling, seeping out onto the plastic wrap. “You need them, anyway. I’ve been sick of hearing you through those shitty earbuds; their sound is terrible, and when you said you’d lost your only pair—which I don’t fucking understand how you can lose those things, because they just fucking show up in my shit all the time, like a goddamn plague—I thought you needed something quality—just to make it easier on my end, obviously, so that I don’t have to tell you to yell into that shitty, built-in micropho—”

“Tenko,” you said, reaching over to place your tea-hot hand over the back of his, fingers curving with his along ohagi’s edge, “Thank you so much. I adore them. I’m really grateful that you would think of me.”

Tenko froze, the same as he had when you’d adjusted his scarf. Unable to look you in the eye, like a prey animal, stiff, shoulders tense, colour rushing up his neck to his face and ears again—but this time, he lifted his hand just a hair from his ohagi to press back into your palm, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Hoo, boy,” said Touya, startling the both of you when he slammed his hands on the kotatsu to push himself up, “I’ve had enough. I’ve had my little snack. I’m leaving.” Once on his feet, he stretched, pressing his hands to his lower back and arching it, grunting.

“Good fucking riddance, cocksucker,” said Tenko, rising and grabbing Touya by the elbow to haul him to the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Touya, dragging his feet, chirping slurred and confused by his movement, and when Tenko had him at the wall, trying to shove him out, Touya, smirking under your watch, whispered something to Tenko while forcing something into his palm. Touya ducked out as Tenko looked at what he’d accepted and, letting out a yelp, dusted whatever it was before he hurried back to the kotatsu.

(When you left the teahouse half an hour later, you discovered that he’d decayed only the wrapper and not the condom itself.)

***

“One moment, please. Nezu-sensei is in a meeting right now, but he’ll be out momentarily. Please take a number—yes, the ticket puncher when you first came in,” you said to yet another impatient and pissed client in the admin waiting room, packed to the gills with parents, press, vendors, potential sponsors, and, for some reason, Mt. Lady’s entire representative team. “By the door. If you’ll take a seat, we’ll be with you shortly.”

God, you could punt Nezu for this. Not that there was anything wrong with establishing a new, annual event for U.A.—a cherry blossom garden-set, competitive scavenger hunt coming up in the spring—but because of his casual comment that it would rise to the same importance as the Sports Festival, you were swamped with those eager to invest early. Unable to take a break, you had to work with your head bowed, desperately hoping none of these people recognised you and your failure, when all you wanted was to reply to Tenko’s messages on Cipherstone that morning.

Tenkopeito: You’ll like the next quest. You can pet a dog in it

Tenkopeito: Come over to my room this evening so that we can talk in person

Was he intending to speak with innuendo or with such sincerity that it cut right through you? Moreover, was he aware he was even doing it? Based on what you’ve observed, Tenko had no idea what he was doing to you, nor did he know how hard you were trying not to act on your attraction, though you weren’t even doing a great job of suppressing it.

It’s strange: Tenko evoked some strange, unnameable emotion in you like nothing else. You wanted to coddle him; you wanted to play stupid video games with him; you wanted to sweep his hair out of his eyes, and though you kept telling yourself that you didn’t, you wanted him to tell you how to touch yourself, how to touch him. You brushed it off. Another time. Perhaps never.

“Oh, hi!” Former pro-hero Ragdoll squealed your family name, making you jump in your seat. “It is you. I couldn’t tell from farther back in the line.” Fuck, Ragdoll would recognise you, since she and the rest of the Wild, Wild Pussycats trained Class A, and she specifically spent time with you on your tracking skills because of her Search quirk.

Don’t cause a scene. “Hello, Shiretoko,” you said, doing your best not to let your face be seen from over the reception desk’s overhang, “It’s good to see you. How can I help?”

When she beamed, she was as bright as ever. “Oh! The Pussycats want to offer our services for the scavenger hunt! We wanna get back into charity and civilian events now that we’re back from our mission for—but wait, you know all about that!” You didn’t. But her cheerful voice carried, and people were already turning towards Ragdoll, part of a hero team ranked in the top thirty. “I wanna hear more about what you’ve been up to! Since you left the hero business, no one’s known where you’ve been! Gosh, have you been behind this dreary old desk the whole time?” Ragdoll leant over the overhang, flicking at a loose strand of your hair. “I thought you were sent out on missions out of the country! Like, really important, top-secret stuff. It’s weird seeing you in an office, especially since I consider you a mini me. Why are you back at your alma mater? Did your agency not want you anymore?”

She wasn’t meaning to be cruel. Her loud, blunt sincerity, though, drew the attention of onlookers, and their flashes of recognition, subsequent judgment, and turning away made your chest tight. “I needed a break. That’s all.”

A thin, blonde woman in a burgundy overcoat leaning against the wall immediately next to the reception had been evaluating you, scanning you from top to bottom during the exchange. She didn’t bother hiding her curiosity, and when you shakily handled the rest of the conversation with Ragdoll, she turned to the short, softly featured man beside her. “You know her?” She hadn’t even tried to quiet her voice; it jolted you from Ragdoll, but you steeled yourself and continued printing off a schedule for her—and from the depths of your brain came the woman’s identity: Uwabami, the snake hero, one who usually flaunted her celebrity status but currently dressed down, without her hair snakes (a rattlesnake, a yellow king cobra, and a Japanese rat snake, which—shut up! You don’t need this information right now! Can you be fucking sane, please?).

Her sidekick—no, an intern, a student at U.A., some fuckin’ twink in the year below you, name escaping you at the moment—had some iota of tact when he looked you over, slanting his body away, as if he weren’t staring. “Yes,” he said, trying not to let you hear, “She’s my former senpai and nothing more to me. We didn’t run in the same circles. She’s the one who made that rescue a few months back, the one that got a lot of online backlash.”

“No, seriously,” Ragdoll was saying, “Why are you back at U.A.? Don’t you have somewhere else to go?”

“My—” People behind Ragdoll in line were listening. Trying not to show it. Your throat ran dry, and you couldn’t think of a lie or a pleasant half-truth. “My flat was compromised. My address was leaked, and eventually, people were—look, Shiretoko,” you said, forcing the words out of your mouth, “I really don’t want to talk about this. Here’s the printed schedule. I’ll talk to you later.”

You slid the paper across the counter, and she took it, waving goodbye and still beaming.

“Is this what happens when a hero career doesn’t work out? They just shove you back where someone will take you? At any old office desk?” that fucking twink was asking Uwabami, “I can’t—it honestly scares me to think I could lose myself and be misplaced like that. It’s wasting talent, don’t you think?”

“How can I help you?” you asked the next person in line through gritted teeth.

When Uwabami lowered her sunglasses to glance over them, you inhaled sharply and swung your swivel chair so that you wouldn’t see her. “I don’t know about that. Maybe this dreadful administration office is where she’s meant to be.”

Biting his lip, he shifted his jaw and crossed his arms, slumping against the wall. “You’ll always have a place for me, right, Uwabami? I don’t want this to happen to me.”

“Yes, I can print you out a copy of the same schedule. If you’ll allow me a moment to print.”

“Of course, Kakeru,” Uwabami said, ignorant of how you were gripping a pencil so tightly that it could snap any second, “You’ll never be left behind.” But then she fucking stared you down, deliberately holding eye contact while you were at the printer, and she said, “You’ll never need a place to hide. I’ll make sure you don’t fail.”

“Hey, how about you shut up?” you hissed, ripping the printer-warm schedule from the tray and storming back to your current client to shove it into their hands. “Aren’t Japanese rat snakes supposed to be in hibernation this time of year, anyway?”

***

Someone in Mt. Lady’s group recorded it. Someone posted it.

wizardjenkins11: jesus christ who knew u.a. had its own island of misfit toys

emotionalsupportdynamightsweat: nice to see that she kept her snark, but what is she doing back at school?? don’t heroes have some sort of paperwork component to their work. why isn’t she still at an agency

blood-is-thiccer: lol ua’s the only one who’d take the bitch. she’s being rude as hell to an actual pro hero. lameass quirk anyway and ass flat as hell lmao she fucken deserved that guy lighting her mailbox on fire

LynchianTiddies: You’re encouraging domestic terrorism???

blood-is-thiccer: that’s not domestic terrorism

LynchianTiddies: Then what, pray fucking tell, is it??

blood-is-thiccer: wikipedia.org/wiki/Vandalism

XylemPhloemBuckaroo: no but I get what that guy was saying about wasting talent tho. Out of everyone in that class a, she’s the only one not topping the fucking hero charts rn. She’s the only one who’s left hero work. What makes her weaker than the rest of her classmates? What happened to her to make her like this?

koiboi69: wouldn’t you quit if people were camping outside your house/work/grocerystore? And also FUCK, man, there’s no fucking need to say she’s fucking weak. that’s kicking her while she’s down

XylemPhloemBuckaroo: I’m not kicking her while she’s down. I’m stating facts and asking reasonable questions.

koiboi69: bro wouldn’t YOU feel down if you’d didn’t have a home to go back to??? going back to u.a. is like admitting defeat, like you couldn’t handle it on your own and need protection

mawatadaddysgorl: i love seeing updates on her bc it makes me feel so good about what i’m doing with my life

***

Uraraka and Shinsou texted you but couldn’t call, let alone come from across town. Aizawa was AWOL, and Dango was hiding under your bed, so you, blotchy-faced and damp, were crumpled on the floor outside of room 310, eating vending machine bullshit and waiting for Tenko to return home.

Exactly all the insecurities you’d been stuffing down for months and months, brought out to air in front of everyone. Instead of doomscrolling, you locked your phone and slid it across the hallway carpet, burying your face in your hands and stomach lurching to the thought that you might soon be plastered everywhere in sight, again. Another round of intensive laying low loomed on the horizon, especially now that your location was made public. Your little secretary job was good enough, and relocating elsewhere on campus would lead to more job training, which would be a bitch.

Where was Tenko? You needed him here to say something irreverent and vindictive. Something unhinged. Or you needed him to hold you, pull you into his lap, and bitch about the whole thing while watching a movie. Tenko had messaged you to come by after work, so why wasn’t he…?

The staircase door hissed open, Tenko pushing it with his back, reusable grocery bags on his arms, and—and wearing a cape? Who the fuck wears a cape casu—oh shit he’s in his hero costume.

You’d heard that he had one, designed by the same company that’d made Midoriya’s and Shouto’s, and the similarities were clear: a boxy sort of design due to thick fabric that still somehow hugged his chest, a minimalist utility belt, and sturdy, knee-capping boots, positively flaming scarlet in contrast to the dark greys of the rest of his jumpsuit. The most obvious connection with another hero, though, made your chest throb: his cloak fastened with the same clasp his grandmother’s had. His dust-blocking respirator lay around his neck for the moment, but what was most embarrassing for you was how your brain fucking wheezed like a boiling kettle at his bare arms, biceps bulging, every fucking inch of skin down to his fingertips completely on display like a goddamn slut.

Whore behaviour. Whore behaviour! You had to duck your head when he squatted next to you, because oh, now you could see the stretch marks on his upper arms, because he’d gotten large way too quickly to be healthy, and smell his fading Old Spice and sweat from being out on what must have been an emergency call, and he was setting his grocery bags aside, reaching out to graze your shoulder, and wow, he’d been complaining about how he didn’t have abs yet despite working out five days a week now that his stamina had increased, but that fabric clung to his lower abdomen, looking very, very flat.

Initially pinching the fabric of your sweater, he shifted his jaw and laid his hand on your shoulder. “Who am I dusting?”

“God, Tenko,” you said, trying to look anywhere but his arms, or his abdomen, or his fucking lips, but he was leaning so much over you that he occupied most of your line of vision, and the only way to avoid seeing anything besides wisps of white hair was to gaze at the popcorned ceiling. “You’re not supposed to do that anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? Who am I dusting?” He squeezed your shoulder, stretching his thumb out to rub at your collarbone.

“Unless you can dust everyone in the country, I don’t think decay will help.”

Tenko clicked his tongue. “I have been explicitly told not to do that,” he said, shifting to sit on his knees, “I have—” He dug into a grocery bag for a moment. “—this for you. You like this shit, right?” Tenko pressed a bottle of pink lemonade into your hands.

“Fucking. Fuck. I do,” you said, passing the condensation-coated bottle from one hand to another, chest tightening, blinking to keep the water levels low, “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I know that,” he said with a dismissive wave, and he paused, fists in his lap. “Would it help if I gave you a hug?”

(What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the—)

“Yeah,” you said calmly, like a calm person, and when Tenko opened his (muscular) arms, you crawled into them, wrapping your own around his back to rest between his shoulder blades. You rested your chin in a fold of his cape, cheek pressing against the side of his respirator, and you frowned as his embrace tightened, pulling you closer in a sloppy, unpractised sort of way, grounded by the steady rise and fall of his very solid chest.

(This felt…affectionate. Romantic, even.

But Shigaraki Tomura didn’t do romance, and you don’t—you’re not—you wouldn’t dream of being conceited enough to read someone’s perhaps thoughtless actions as flirtation, because why would someone be flirting with you? No one did that in general, and being U.A.’s humiliating problem child exacerbated the fact.

Moreover, why would the man who was Shigaraki Tomura, in the middle of his rehabilitation and re-discovery of self, even in the microscopic chance that he had the mental energy to experience romantic feelings, aim that romantic impulse towards you? It would make more sense if he liked someone he’d known for a while, like Touya or Spinner or Toga, and if his romantic feelings leant towards recuperative trauma-bonding, wouldn’t it be more apt to feel for someone at his rehab? His therapist, maybe? He’d idolised Aizawa before he’d met him, and even that would make more sense than latching onto someone as late in the process as you.

He’d gotten flustered when you’d tied his scarf, and Touya’s played terrible wingman. But still. You couldn’t know. You can’t read into this, even though reading into things had been your job, because—because no one would want you. You’ll have to…You’ll have to gather more evidence. You couldn’t be certain.)

Tenko hummed, chin digging into your shoulder, blowing strands of your hair out of his face. “I calmed a kid down earlier by hugging her. Is this working for you?”

(…oh.)

You sniffled and hid your mouth in his cape so that he couldn’t catch your pout. “That’s—that’s good that a kid allowed you to comfort her. What happened?”

“Pipes broke in an old apartment building in the Takoba district. The third floor collapsed under the pressure, and it trapped families in part of the building. I was called out to dust the rubble trapping them,” Tenko said, tapping his fingers high on your back in a ripple, “and they had me dust some other walls to help start the repairs. It was cool. And this one little girl who’d gotten out before the rest of her family was really nervous, and she was sticking to me, holding onto my cape. I was telling her that everything was gonna be okay, like you’ve taught me, and when I asked how she was doing, this fuckin’ kid extended her arms to me. So, I fucking hugged her. Picked her up so she could see what was happening better. It was weird, but it felt good.” Tenko sighed. “I hate how it wants me to be kind more.”

And fuck, fuck, that’s the last straw to this horrible day, and you’re crying, silently, controlling your breathing to keep Tenko from finding out, because goddammit, this idiot bastard man was surprisingly easy to love.

You buried your face fully in his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t feel any wetness through his costume, and you and Tenko sat in the quiet of the hallway for a minute, interrupted only by the A/C kicking in.

Tenko tried to part the two of you enough to look you in the face, but you doubled down, curling your fingers into the fabric of his jumpsuit and keeping your head bowed. Scoffing, he sat upright, making you follow his movements to stay hidden. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong yet?”

“Forget all that shit I’ve taught you,” you said, grumbling to his tits now that he’d changed positions, hating how stopped up you sounded already, “It doesn’t matter what you fucking do in the public’s eye, because there’s always gonna be someone who hates you. You can’t please everyone, so just fucking be yourself. That’s funnier, anyway.”

“Did you psychoanalyse some press member’s pathetic sex life, or something? Deduce an affair based on the way he knots his tie? Announce the state of his dick to the whole room because of the length of his pants?”

“Fuck off, Tenko. I’m not some pretentious-ass Sherlock Holmes bitch,” you said, pursing your lips and instinctively pulling back to glare at him—

And the moment you did, Tenko cupped your face in his hands, soft at the palm and strongly calloused along his fingers, keeping you facing towards him no matter how hard you tried to jerk away, struggling to stay upright. “You are crying.”

“No, I’m not,” you said, just as a falling tear touched his thumb. As you adjusted to his grip, your hands fell to his thighs, pressing against them in fists.

“Hm. Well, you don’t have to tell me,” he said, eyes on another tear trailing down the other cheek, “but you’re joining me to watch a movie with Eri. I got snacks on the way home.”

You sighed, taking in how big his hands were and how much of your face they encompassed, trying to memorise their feeling until they were snatched away forever. “I thought we were gonna start a new quest tonight. I was excited.”

Tenko balked and shifted into a sceptical grin. “You wanted to play Ciperstone tonight?” he asked, both thumbs rubbing your cheekbones and moving to swipe underneath your eyes.

You sighed again, shoulders heaving as Tenko released your face to flick tears off of his hand. “I didn’t want to be myself for a few hours.”

Tenko pushed on his knees to stand. “That’s actually related to what I originally wanted to talk to you about. Furthering the working-with-others mission,” he said, and he extended his hand to help you up. “What do you know about Dungeons and Dragons?”

***

“God fucking dammit!” Tenko slammed his palm to his forehead and leant back to balance on the kitchen chair’s back legs and then combed his fingers back through his hair, upsetting some strands from his ponytail. Groaning, he crooked his face your way, smushed his face against the chair back, and pointed towards his forehead, where a red splot was forming. “Hit me as hard as you can.”

“Being bludgeoned won’t change the fact that you rolled a three,” you said, nodding towards his d20, “I ignore his whining and continue to drain the fig tree to charge my spell.”

Behind the DM screen, Shinsou rolled his own dice, and once his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, he turned to Midoriya. “I need you to roll two d12s and a d4.”

Tenko bolted upright, hastily sweeping his bangs out of his face. “Wait, what does Midoriya have to do with it? He’s across the fucking grove! He’s engaged in close-ranged combat.”

You turned away from Shinsou’s sly grin and towards Tenko, mouth nearly a straight line, yanking another cluster of grapes from the communal bowl, and shoving two grapes in his mouth. He pinched at his lower lip as he chewed, twisting and peeling at dead skin, frowning as he focused on his character sheet, scanning it for some sort of information he was forgetting and absentmindedly raising his knee to his chest, the heel of his foot propped on the seat of his chair (thank God his jeans were from Best Jeanist’s Moulded to Your Ass line: the denim strained with his muscles. Your eye twitched). In this particular morning, with the five of you squared off at Aizawa’s kitchen table, papers and dice strewn among grocery store bakery cinnamon rolls and coffee cups (Tenko’s was full of gatorade instead of coffee, much to his chagrin), as Tenko was throwing grapes into Touya’s mouth while Shinsou did math, the narwhal house slippers dangling off Tenko’s feet, it struck you that Shigaraki Tomura had become just some guy. One who went for walks to clear his head, who spent hours failing to do a kickflip on Present Mic’s skateboard, who used emoticons over emojis, who got nervous in fast food drive-throughs, who collected hero merch (of Aizawa fervently and Present Mic against his will), who was losing his sensitivity to foods like leeks and onions, a man who was growing more and more exquisitely mundane.

And goddamn, he’s clever and perceptive and patient and cheeky in a devastatingly attractive way, and he’s flustered easily, eager to do a thing correctly, and utterly, totally captivating in his endless discoveries of what it means to be alive.

You timed it so that the shudder and shock crossing his face could pass as response to Shinsou’s description of how Tenko’s enchanted crossbow bolt missed the Spirit Realm Necromancer entirely, instead sinking into the sacred Grand Oak and instantly shattering the tree as if it were glass, its elaborate root system holding up the floating grove splintering into thousands of tiny shards, the ground beneath your party’s feet crumbling at the slightest suggestion of the shifting of weight. But really he curled in his lips with a furrowed brow and stuttering breath when you reached underneath the table to graze the back of his hand, and when he forced himself to relax, shoulders slackening, frown fading, Tenko spread his fingers to cover more of his denim-clad thigh, which you took as a timid sort of consent. Biting the inside of your cheek, you eased your palm over the back of Tenko’s hand, lacing your fingers through his and going through the motions of reacting to Shinsou’s shattered earth. Neither of you looked at each other while Midoriya’s character suffered the Necromancer’s spell to increase gravity, each movement of Midoriya’s bulky, steel armour accelerating the fall of the floating grove. By the time each of you had had enough turns to land on solid ground, preserving little of the sacred grove but all surviving, Tenko finally squeezed your fingers back, curling his own to grip them more firmly, keeping your hand pinned to his thigh, steeling himself, sitting up straight, and proposing getting close enough to the Necromancer to drive a crossbow bolt directly into his skull.

Midoriya was already muttering to himself over the effectiveness of the action while Shinsou worked, and Touya irreverently flicked his dice at Tenko, chugging coffee with his other hand. “You plunge the bolt by hand into the Necromancer’s head,” said Shinsou, “but with your strength debuff still in effect, you only nick him.”

“I try stabbing it through his ear.”

“It goes through,” said Shinsou, nodding and running his hand back through his hair, which sprung back into place, “It doesn’t pierce the neocortex, so he can still summon another—“

“I stomp him to death with my hooves,” said Touya, picking at his teeth and running his tongue over the spot.

The rest of you turned to him slowly in various states of incredulity.

“You don’t have hooves, Touya,” you said, tilting your head at the same time Tenko rubbed his thumb over yours, prompting your breath to hitch and a strange warmth to travel through your body, making you feel dizzy.

Touya grimaced and reached for a cinnamon roll. “I take off my leather breeches and boots to reveal my hooves. I have been a satyr masquerading as a human this whole time.” He leant forward on his elbow, glaring at Shinsou and gesturing with his cinnamon roll. “I stomp him. To death. With my hooves.”

Tenko sneered, his teeth cutting into his lower lip, but he merely opened his mouth and closed it, poking his tongue into his cheek. “I suppose maiming a party member wouldn’t coincide with my character’s chaotic good alignment,” he said, heaving a huge sigh to—oh, that cunning rat bastard—to conceal how he flipped his hand over in yours to touch palms, weaving your fingers back together and squeezing again, planting them back on his upper leg, massaging between your knuckles with his thumb.

“What’d you just roll?”

“Nineteen,” said Touya, casting Shinsou a slice of his most charming smile.

Midoriya let out a little laugh as Shinsou bitterly plopped his head on his fist. “Fuck you, Touya. Congratulations. You clomp over to the Necromancer and stomp all over him. Stompy stomp stomp stompy stomp. It’s difficult to watch at the insane speed you’re going, so no one stops you from doing such a good job pounding him that he’s ground into dust. Bits of him drift away in the wind.”

Here Midoriya winced. “Weren’t we supposed to retrieve the soul crystal embedded in his gauntlet? We can’t get our reward from that Silver Age dragon rider if we don’t have it.”

“Correct,” said Shinsou, glancing down at his notes, “It has been stomped to smithereens. You can’t even make out what parts of the pile of dust were once flesh.”

Ready to bolt, Touya was getting up from the table and holding up his hands in defence, but before Midoriya could start a speech that would have been more apt for the number one hero to use on patrol rather than during a DND game, the door to Aizawa’s flat opened, and in he walked, covering his yawn with the back of his hand. He halted at the sight of the five of you around his kitchen table, taking in the scattered papers and remnants of breakfast before settling on your DM. “Shinsou,” Aizawa began, disappointment outweighing the exhaustion in his voice.

“You’re the only one with a table that could fit all of us,” Shinsou said, spinning in his chair to face him, “This dormitory doesn’t have a good common area like the student ones do. Would you really prefer us to—”

“We can find you a table; there’s plenty on campus.” Aizawa lifted his goggles over his head to set them on the counter. “Is this why Monoma kept slowing me down during patrol?”

“No,” you and Shinsou said, while Tenko said, “Yes.”

Aizawa actually smiled as he unwound his capture weapon from around his neck. “Look who’s the only one telling the truth.”

“Why would I lie to you, sensei?”

Touya smacked Tenko on the arm. “Suck-up.”

“You promise?” Tenko shot back, nose wrinkling with his grin.

“This coffee had better be amazing, because it’s the only thing keeping me from kicking you all out right now,” said Aizawa, rubbing a dry eye with the heel of his palm, other hand outstretched for someone to pass him a mug.

Tenko’s thumb bent inward to swipe the inside of your palm, a silent protest while he drank from his stupid little mug of gatorade, and when he noticed what was at the bottom, he flinched. It must have been Touya who’d put your dice in Tenko’s cup.

***

Following the video of you insulting Uwabami, you’re garnering an unnerving amount of attention again, but it’s clearly someone different than last time. Whoever your stalker(s) was this time around, they were careless and unsubtle—and this confidence to be careless left you jumping at the slightest sound when you were alone.

Furthermore, you legitimately couldn’t deduce your stalker’s motivations, because no clear message linked his actions. At first, you chalked it up to the dorm’s shitty dryer eating your bright blue thong, but when you couldn’t find your lip balm or trolley pass or eventually your favourite sweater, you concluded that something else was at play here, further cemented by more and more tiny things going missing—things that, if you were stalking someone, you would’ve selected as small enough not to miss.

But bizarrely, your stalker left shit of his own lying about. A phone charger appeared underneath your pillow; loose change and a travel pack of alcoholic wipes showed up in your bathroom sink. Hello Kitty band-aids, a hair clip that looked like one of Rumi’s ears, deep-moisturising hand cream, a tiny lizard keychain with a white hamburglar mask drawn on. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. What could your stalker be trying to say besides he could access your personal space with ease? Hoarding it all in the drawer with the GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK hentai, you were struck with the notion that this may have been going on even before the video.

God, you missed when this school felt more like home instead of a holding cell, back when Shinsou and Uraraka and the rest were all still living together with you, when you could simply turn the corner to the common area to demand who took your laundry detergent and get an answer immediately (you also missed taking Aoyama’s bougie food, though you suspected that towards the end he was buying extra specifically for you). You sent an email to Aizawa about the potential break in security, and he promised to monitor the situation, though there was no evidence of physical entry.

Evidence. It’s been on your mind.

Sure, Tenko’s done stuff that could be read as romantic: how he plops your hand onto his head to demand you play with his hair, how he hovers whenever Touya stands too closely to you, how he gets upset on your behalf when people glare at you in public.

(Tenko grabbed your elbow, breaking your focus on the clothing rank. “We’re going.”

“But we haven’t found you a red coat yet.”

He lifted the hangers from your arm and slid them back onto the rack, despite belonging elsewhere. “Don’t care. I don’t like the way the cashier’s looking at you,” he said, jerking his head their direction, and when you tilted your head to glance at them over his shoulder, Tenko tapped your chin twice, guiding you to look back at him. “You shouldn’t have to be on guard when I’m with you.”)

If you were reading into it—and you were—Tenko was being so careful with talking about the pro-hero scene around you that it was almost as if he’d gotten a mission task from Aizawa to distract you from anything that might make you feel bad about yourself.

(“I hear you’re causing a lot of paperwork for my old man,” said Touya, pulling out another floor cushion from the storage space in the teahouse wall, “He hates that you’ve had to dust so many structures near his agency. He’s a decrepit creature of habit, and now that his commute is different, he’s—”

“Hey, Touya, tell us what flower bulbs you planted this winter,” Tenko said abruptly, clamping the lid on the pot hanging over the sunken fireplace, “Tell us what your garden’ll look like in spring.”

You shut your book, even though you’d just opened it. “Wait, are you saying that Touya is the one who keeps this garden? That’s—”

“You like it, sweetheart?” Touya dropped his cushion next to yours, ignoring the way Tenko was glaring daggers into his back. “Think it’s impressive?”

“Holy shit; I thought we were in the back of some professionally restored historical site the first time we came here,” you said, smiling at how Tenko’s petulant stomps to his seat chirruped, even when he scooted his own cushion towards yours (adorable; you’d think he didn’t like you giving attention to anyone else).

“Well,” said Touya, propping his hands on the kotatsu so that he could get a better view of Tenko, “With enormous pride and a huge erection, I’m pleased to announce that this garden is all my hard work.”

“Stop that,” barked Tenko, jabbing a finger towards Touya, “Stop bringing up your cock.”

“I could talk about yours, if you want. His monster cock is excruciatingly leaky and so shaped.”

Groaning, Tenko clonked his forehead on the kotatsu’s tabletop before Touya could say anything else, arm still outstretched. He peeked out from underneath his bangs towards you, tension leaving his body at your burst of laughter.)

He’s also taken your comment about silent admiration to heart. Over the discord call (through very comfortable headphones), you’d made a dumb joke about not being able to play for long, and he’d shut up immediately. When you’d confessed to lying and hoping you’d scared him, he’d replied seriously: “I want to protect my time with you. I don’t like it being taken away. I feel better when you’re with me.”

You’d frozen in the middle of weaving bowstrings while his character continued stringing them onto bows. You’d never have gotten that sort of remark at the beginning of your relationship. Tenko must genuinely be listening to you.

Anyway. You decided in the event that Tenko was collecting evidence, too, that you would leave him some.

The first time you’d been in his room had been for a specific purpose, which was to help him rub in his new facial scar moisturiser (not to take them away, or anything, because Tenko wanted to keep them, claiming he wouldn’t recognise himself in the mirror if he didn’t have his scars—and you thought they were devastatingly attractive, anyway—but just to keep them hydrated enough not to itch), but now you were here just to spend time in the same space. You were reading on his bed (oh, hohoho, his bed), and Tenko was drawing in his sketchbook on his couch by the window. With his mouth pinched in concentration, he squinted down at his paper, swiping away eraser shavings with his artist-gloved hand.

Drawing by natural light. Tenko was in room 310 because of its wide windows. It had been his one request when U.A. was placing him.

AFO had deliberately raised him in a bedroom without windows. You’d kill him if he weren’t already dead.

Thankfully, AFO’s influence was absent from Tenko’s dorm: Naruto sheets from Touya, an old Nintendo DS on his bedside table with Nintendogs in the cartridge slot, Present Mic’s skateboard propped against the coatrack that held only a black hoodie, unfolded but clean laundry in a basket next to a dresser with prescription bottles atop it, a mirror that served more as a bulletin board of Eraserhead merch than as a way to check his reflection, red shoes by the doorway, books borrowed from everyone from All Might to Shinsou to the ramen delivery guy strewn across the room, on shelves, his computer desk, his rug. The thing Tenko’d had to explain to you was a therapist-assigned painting hanging over his desk: he’d painted a murky, purple-blue, abstract sort of thing, and you were strangely touched when he’d explained it was Kurogiri (and now that you were looking, among his bulletin board of Eraserhead, a few drawings of Loud Cloud were mixed in).

There’s a lot of people in Tenko’s life who care about him now, and you’re happy to be one of them. Setting your book aside, you got up to sit next to him on the couch.

He paused when you sank into the cushion next to—well, no, you were basically sharing the same cushion, especially since he unfolded his legs from underneath him so that you could get closer. You scooted over so that your shoulders touched (scandalous) and looked over his drawings.

He’s drawing your DND characters. While his sketches aren’t exactly good, you can clearly tell who’s supposed to be whom, and they’re fun to look at, so that’s all that matters. At the centre is your character, Ginseng—you named it after your Cipherstone account because why not—in the process of spell-charging. Your character relies on the traditional ritual of tea ceremonies, from the growing of the tealeaves to serving it, summoning whatever tools you needed, like the table and dishware, and if an enemy got caught by the conventions of politeness of the tea ceremony, they were trapped in it until they’d drunk their teacup dry. Tenko had drawn her early in the spell-charging process, with branches of tealeaves sprouting from underneath her skin, with her harvesting them from her forearm. It’s rather flattering, the way her determined expression lit up her face.

Next to Ginseng was Tenko’s character, Peito, also lifted from his Cipherstone character. He was sitting on the same log as Ginseng in the middle of camp, backs touching while he cut feathers as the first step in the fletching process. His carved-willow quiver leant against his knee-high boot, red even in a fictional universe. Peito’s hands were bare, five fingers pressed against his knife and arrows.

Further back in the camp (really just towards the top of the paper, since Tenko wasn’t good at foreshortening yet), Midoriya’s character, Jackrabbit, was holding up two hangers, one with his steel and the other with sleek, black leather armour. A nice touch, really, since Midoriya had swopped Jackrabbit’s primary armour to the more lightweight leather since the shattered grove incident, and wow, you could even tell it was leather based on the pencil strokes.

Seated nearby, Touya’s character, Granddaddy Slapkins, roared with laughter at him. His shoes lay next to him, his hooves out. For some reason, he’s not holding his pet duck; he’s instead cradling what looks like your character’s wild shape, a cat with the same chocolate-point markings as your real cat (your character’s shapeshifted form was just Dango, but Tenko didn’t know that. He still didn’t know Dango existed, because cats were still illegal in the dorms, and Tenko, that little brown-nosing shit, would probably tell Aizawa about her. Cute how he’s only a suck-up to Aizawa, though).

Your favourite detail, though, was how his character was smiling. Unabashedly. As if it were a no-brainer, as if doing anything else made no sense at all.

With a stab of affection, you nuzzled into Tenko’s shoulder, resting your chin there while he sketched loops of chainmail onto Granddaddy Slapkins’s shirt, and a shiver racked through him.

“Oh, are you cold?” you asked, sitting back up and heading over towards the bed, “Let me get your blanket.”

“Wha—no, I—sure,” said Tenko, setting his pencil on his sketchbook and the whole thing on the arm of the couch, eyes half-lidded as you returned with his throw blanket.

And without thinking, you moved on impulse, as if all higher orders of cognition had checked out for the night, because you behaved like you did in your head whenever you thought about Tenko: casually, intimately, and domestically. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and knelt on the sofa before swinging a knee over his lap, and you snuggled into his chest, clutching his shirt and nosing at his neck.

Your eyes snapped open.

(What the fuck?

If this had been a planned attack, then it would’ve been a thing of brilliance: casual, seeming to meet a physical need [heating a chill] in the name of physical closeness. But you fucked it. This wasn’t planned, and thus you don’t have a way out of it without otherwise betraying your romantically-motivated interior.

Thank fuck he’s frozen up, too. But how do you get out of this? God, you really shouldn’t be teaching him how to navigate interpersonal relationships when you get yourself into shit like this.)

You swallowed thickly, pulse pounding in your ears.

“I need your advice.” Tenko’s chest barely rose when he took his first breath since you climbed onto his lap. “What would be the socially expected response to this?”

“Uh. That depends on if you’re into it or not,” you said, forcing yourself to sit back in his lap to give him some space, “If you dislike it, then it’s to get me to get off of you, and if you welcome it, then, uh. Anything else.”

Tenko unclenched his fists at his sides and—a pause, shifting his jaw—he let his hands rest at a barely-there touch on your hips, dragging them upwards to your waist, applying enough pressure there for you to feel all ten fingertips through your shirt. “Is this,” he said, wetting his lower lip, and he couldn’t continue, instead swallowing saliva.

Gathering your nerve, you wove your hand through his hair to scratch at his scalp in the way he’d liked when you’d played with his hair, and at the familiarity, Tenko huffed, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his forehead to yours in a rush, almost knocking them together. He took another breath, heat washing over your face, and you slid your other up hand to cup his cheek.

Tenko shivered again, and he clamped his hand over yours to keep it there. “Are you sure this is what you mean to do?”

He seemed receptive enough to it, but you couldn’t be certain. “Yeah,” you said, “If I’m reading it right.”

“But it makes no sense. I’ve got to be reading it wrong,” Tenko was saying, frowning, “No one would willingly like me—”

“For fuck’s sake, Tenko—”

Practically slapping your other hand to his cheek, you kissed him, pulling him closer, one of his hands still over yours with the other now gripping your waist as if he’d never let you go. Tenko grunted into it, surging forward to keep his rough lips (sticky from his freshly applied pineapple-beeswax chapstick) seared to yours. You felt, more than heard, his miniscule whimper at the back of his throat when he opened his mouth, sliding his tongue into yours, and you could hardly keep kissing him for smiling. But he needed a breath before you did, so you broke it, sensing he wouldn’t do it out of wanting to keep you nearby.

Panting, Tenko tried and failed to push your hair behind your ear in an attempt to be suave. “Now, I perceived that as romantic.”

“It was romantic, you muppet,” you said, thumping his chest with the back of your hand.

“Good.” He cleared this throat. “Cool. Excellent,” he said, shifting underneath you (with difficulty, under the constricting denim of his Moulded to Your Ass jeans), “I want it to be, when it comes to you.”

“Thank God, I really want that, too,” you said, sighing, “but, like, I really don’t know if it’s ethical to pursue a romance this early into your recovery—”

“The fuck is wrong with you? I want it. I want you.” Frustrated, Tenko grabbed your hips in an iron grip and ground up into you, slowly, and that tight-ass denim let you feel precisely where in the drag of his hips his cock touched you, letting you feel the shift in pressure at his tip, down his shaft, to the first curve of his balls. “I thought I was alone. I thought no one else would ever be able to understand me, having fallen from what I was raised to be. Fallen,” he said, spitting, “Such a nasty word for what we’re actually doing: we’ve been reborn together. We get to build our lives back up together. We get another chance at it. I wanna spend mine with you.”

He strained his neck upwards to kiss you again, insistent, moving with confidence when he took your lower lip into his mouth but only nibbling on it once, despite being posed to bite down with vigour.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone else thinks of you and what anyone else thinks of me. I—”

“That’s not true,” you said, your turn to catch your breath, “You care so much about what Aizawa-sensei—”

“You know what I mean,” he said, shaking his head, hair falling out of his loose ponytail, “You think of me as me, and that’s all that matters. If you’re really that fucking worried about me getting into a relationship too early, go talk to my therapist. She says you’re good for me. A good influence, anyway.”

“Holy shit,” you said, mostly in reaction to how Tenko started trailing frantic, dry kisses down your neck, and, realising you should probably be doing something back, you rolled your hips, feeling awfully warm under the blanket.

He bucked back up into you, more out of desperation to keep you close over a need for friction but still giving you a taste of what it would be like to have him thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he said, almost grumbling, “I’d say fuck being ethical about it, because I’ve wanted you for a long time. I got hard when you shook me by the shoulders outside of that ice cream shop; I thought my soul was gonna leave my body when you adjusted my scarf. Hell, I—” He cut himself off, grinning in a way that, back before you knew him, you might have described as maniacal. “I wanted you back during the war. I saw you fucking elbow Touya during that battle, and the way you made him crumple to the ground was so fucking sexy. And you recovered from when he swiped at you so easily; you slipped around his attacks like it was fucking second nature. I thought it’d be cool to have you by my side, having you—” He realised what he was saying, and he relaxed, smile fading into a curious, pensive sort of look while he brought his thumb to your kiss-swollen lips. “And now I get to.”

You kissed the pad of his thumb, blinking slowly.

“So. Yeah,” he said, dropping his hand to your shoulder as he broke eye contact, a little red, “I think it’d be cool to be with you, even if we have to be careful.”

“That’s the thing, Tenko,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek as you gathered your thoughts, “I’m scared, because while I know that we should, because that’d be safe, I don’t want to be careful. Since I’ve quit being a hero, every single thing about how I’ve been living has left me feeling empty and alone, because it’s like I’m wandering through limbo. Everything screams that whatever I’m doing now is temporary, that it’ll pass, that I don’t truly belong in this situation, because I’ll find what I’m supposed to be doing later and my real home is somewhere down the line, but—fuck.” You rubbed your eye with your fist. “You, Tenko. You don’t feel temporary. You feel forever.”

Underneath you, Tenko stretched to pop a crick in his back, and he tilted his head to lie on the back of the couch. His ponytail had come loose, and his hair splayed against the fabric as he stared at you, one hand idly rubbing at your waist.

“Well. You’ve got to belong somewhere,” he said eventually, and he tapped all five fingers onto your thigh. “It could be with me.”

***

Dango was missing.

Incredible how the best evening of your life preceded the worst day you’ve had in years. You called out of work and spent hours scouring the dorm and then campus. A gruelling, miserable sort of day, anyway, grey and rainy and cold, and the campus was swarmed with people setting up for the scavenger hunt event later this month, populating the area with non-U.A. personnel and construction. Your cat was out in that mess, and you didn’t even know where to search first. It’s loud, scary, and wet, so Dango would most likely be hiding and not come when she’s called.

Had Dango escaped your flat? Had your stalker stolen her? Had she been confiscated by U.A.?

You couldn’t call any faculty for help; they’d get onto you for having an illegal cat on campus—and Hound Dog, the one who’d be the most help, might just scare her to death. Too early in the morning to call any of your friends, and you doubted they’d alter their busy schedules to help you out of a situation you should be able to fix yourself. But damn it, how come your own tracking skills only worked on people?

You shook yourself, coming out of your spiral the best you could, and you were close to hyperventilating. You sat down on a curb.

You found yourself calling Tenko, despite it being too early in the day for him to be out of training, filling with dread about never seeing your cat again and having to clear out her stuff from your room. Pulling your soaked jacket closer, you wiped at your nose and waited at the dial tone.

“Hey, I thought you couldn’t call during work. Miss me that much?”

The second you heard his strangely chipper voice, you started crying into the speaker.

He inhaled sharply, tone shifting. “Tell me who the fuck I’m stomping to death with my hooves.”

Ducking your head, you managed a smile but continued to fucking sob. “You don’t—don’t have to kill anyone, Ten—Tenko. I’ve f—fucked up.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m on cam—campus,” you said, unable to speak for a full sentence without having to cut yourself off to keep bawling, ugly and loud and getting snottier by the minute, “It’s my fucking fault that I haven’t been ta—taking my stupid sta—stalker seriously, and I should’ve reported it, but—but I—goddammit!” The rain picked up again, coming down in rapid, fat drops, and, shielding your eyes, you rubbed your phone screen on your sleeve, not that it did much. “Sor—sorry. Rain got heavier.”

“Where on campus?”

“No, Te—Tenko, I’ll get up. I’m coming to you,” you said, sniffling and pushing on your knees to stand, wet and hungry and ready to crawl into your sock drawer to sleep for days. “I—I’m just so fucking pissed at myself, because my cat is fucking lost, and I could’ve sto—stopped it if I hadn’t been so secreti—tive.” Hands shaking, you yanked your soaked hood over your head and trudged towards your dormitory, and you kicked gravel, rocks scattering over the path, before losing your footing on it and nearly falling. Fuck this.

“You have a cat,” said Tenko, losing his fervent. “What’s it look like?”

“Beautiful.”

“I need more than that.”

“She fucking—I based Ginseng’s cat form on her, okay? She’s this enormously fluffy thing, mostly whitish with a brown face and legs, and it makes her look like she’s wearing a mask and thigh-high socks like God’s sluttiest little jester,” you said, knocking on your dorm’s mailboxes for luck out of habit as you passed them, “And you can’t tell Aizawa-sensei about her, because if she’s taken away the moment I find her, then I—”

“I have her,” said Tenko, “She’s in my dorm with me.”

You ran the rest of the way to his room, panting and absolutely disgusting by the time you got there, and when Tenko opened his door, there was Dango, loafing on the back of the couch and watching raindrops race down the window.

“What the fuck,” you said, dropping your wet coat and toeing off your shoes, “How the hell did she get in here?”

Tenko shrugged and hung your coat next to his hoodie. “Can she open locked doors?”

“I hope to fuck she can’t,” you said, and you rounded the couch to wrap your arms around that dear little loaf, and Dango jumped off the couch to crawl underneath it before you could fully hug her. “Oh, good. She’s fine. Acting like normal.” You sat on the couch’s arm, adrenaline evaporating to render you boneless.

“She was in my room when I came back from training. We ended early today, since Aizawa-sensei has something.” Tenko stooped to yank two bottles of gatorade from their plastic rings and headed towards the sofa to offer one to you. “She didn’t seem upset or hurt. She’s been sitting there, napping on and off.”

You accepted it and twisted off the cap. “So, who put my cat in your room?”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know,” you said, taking a shallow sip, careful not to overwhelm your agitated stomach, “They’d have to know about Dango in the first place, and I suppose my stalker would, since they’ve theoretically been breaking into my room.”

Tenko paused mid-sip, and he hastened to swallow. “Someone’s been breaking into your room?”

“Yeah,” you said, easing down the arm of the couch and onto its cushions, “I think. There’s no physical sign of entry, but my shit keeps going missing, and stuff that’s not mine keeps showing up. Let me tell you, I need some of that shit they’ve stolen; it’s hard to replace—”

Tenko touched your lips with three of his fingertips to quiet you, and he gestured for you to stay put while he scrambled over to his closet, where he stood on his toes to retrieve a wicker basket from the top shelf. He dropped the thing into your lap. “Are any of these yours?”

All of it was, missing things you blamed on everything from Dango to your stalker to your own forgetfulness: your favourite sweater, your trolley pass, lip balm, your shitty earbuds, your good pantyhose, your planner, your d10, and, among many smaller things, even that bright blue thong you’d lost in the wash (Well. It’s better to find your thong with your new boyfriend over finding them returned to your dorm coated in your stalker’s cum, you supposed).

“I was losing my goddamn mind,” Tenko was saying, “Stuff kept showing up. I thought it was a test at first—”

“I don’t have a stalker,” you said, absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of your thong between your fingers, “Your shit has been—you read that GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK shit? Tenko.”

“Oh, you have that?” Tenko scratched the back of his neck, but not in his self-harm way; it reminded you of Shinsou’s nervous habit more than anything. “Haven’t you read it? Isn’t that what you were naming your characters after?”

“Ah, ha, ha. Moving on. What is important, though, is why and how this is happening to us.”

“Yeah, I don’t…”

The two of you spitballed for a while, long enough for the both of you to finish your bottles of gatorade and for Tenko to start another, and neither of you came up with anything substantial.

“Hell with it,” said Tenko, standing to stretch, his movement disturbing Dango from her nap in his basket of clean laundry, “Let’s go ask Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa was not pleased when he discovered the both of you waiting in his kitchen, but he listened to the story, and when you were done, he stepped out of the room to make a phone call. When he came back, he looked even more exhausted than when he’d first come in.

“I’ve just gotten off the phone with Sakura Grove,” said Aizawa, wincing when his bones creaked as he sat in his chair, “Tenko, do you remember villain in-fighting within the PLF? In particular, I’m asking if you remember breathing in a pink dust cloud. It would’ve been in Deika City, in the month between your fight with Re-Destro and your body modification surgery. If our sources are accurate, you would’ve been with Touya.”

Tenko scrunched up his face. “Why would I have been—hm.” Frowning, he reached into the bag of popcorn you’d commandeered from Aizawa’s cupboards. “I know what you’re talking about. They were only letting me eat healthy stuff in the week before I went under. Touya was taking me to scrounge for something salty and shitty for me, because I couldn’t take it anymore. He started hitting on someone he thought was a waitress, and she—this is why I remember it—she compared the width of her hand to his thigh and said no thanks.”

“That’s Ito,” said Aizawa, sighing and crossing his arms, settling his chin into his capture weapon, “When did she use her quirk?”

“She shoved her hand on Touya’s face when he opened his stupid mouth again, and he passed out with swarming, pink particles floating around his head. She turned to me—and she must not have recognised Touya, but she knew me, because her face lit the fuck up. She never touched me, but I remember having to sneeze.”

“She never told you what her quirk did?”

“I woke back up in the PLF headquarters. I assumed whoever picked me up had killed her and that her death negated any effects.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why? What does it do?”

Aizawa let out a soft laugh, muffled through his capture weapon, and he jerked his head in your direction. “You tell him,” he said, snatching the bag of popcorn and heading towards his bedroom.

***

He’d been nervous about wearing a suit. They reminded him of AFO.

But you’d strayed away from dark colours and too much structure, so his light greyish-blue suit jacket stayed unbuttoned even as you leant across to the passenger seat to adjust his All Might tie for him (a Put Your Hands Up Radio tie had been offered, but Tenko had already closed his fist around the striped tie Midoriya would loan him). Part of his bangs had been pinned back to show off his annoyingly handsome face, especially in how his sharp, red eyes observed caught every movement of your terrible attempt to tie the tie based on the pictures Aizawa had sent you.

“We’re not gonna be late, are we?” Tenko drawled out, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, hand resting on the car ceiling as he angled his chest towards you.

“Shush; we are in the parking lot,” you said, looping the larger end. Or were you supposed to be looping the smaller one? “Besides, the world won’t end if we’re a few minutes late to my class’s annual reunion.”

A flimsy excuse for a party, one made because hero agencies needed some sort of named event as an excuse to dismiss your friends en masse. But it was spring again, and they were coming out of the winter blues, and they wanted to see you again, so, hey, why don’t we work something in around your schedule? If you can’t come to this date, then we’ll reschedule it until you can.

And, like. They knew. They knew Tenko was your soulmate. You suspected they all wanted to see what he was like now, too, because no one but Shinsou, Midoriya, and, apparently, Bakugou had known.

You undid the loose knot and tried again. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he said, scrutinising the tacky balloons and streamers swaying in the night breeze outside of the otherwise intimidatingly elegant venue, “but those kids might be.”

“Those kids happen to be friends my age,” you said, “and I’m barely younger than you are. They know you’re coming. You’re fine.”

Tenko sucked in through his teeth, tapping the roof of the car one finger at a time. “The last time they saw me was as a thing. An object of destruction.”

“Well, they’ll definitely see you as a human person when I spill how you designed a unicorn DND character for Eri.” You pulled the fabric taut but kept it from lying closely to his neck (a boy didn’t like feeling constrained). “You know what? This tie is as good as it’s gonna get.”

He ducked his chin to examine its knot. “It’s shit.”

“It adds to your devil-may-care, reformed-bad-boy sort of charm,” you said, giving the tie a final smooth-down and poorly suppressing your smile when you felt his muscles through his shirt. “Mathematically, there are only 85 ways to tie a standard tie knot. I don’t believe we’ve reached any of them.”

“How do you know these things? You’re unbeliev—” Tenko jerked his face out of view of the window as Aoyama and Kouda, gesturing wildly, strode past the car and into the venue. “Listen,” he said, clearing his throat, “I know I don’t care and that you don’t care, but other people will. Your reputation is gonna plummet right into its grave if we’re out in the open together.”

You shook your head, letting your smile show. “So, I fucked part of a rescue job almost a year ago. So what. So I’m dating my soulmate. Am I supposed to do otherwise? Honestly, Tenko,” you said, curling loose strands of hair behind his ear, letting your fingers linger around his cheek and neck (he leant into the touch), “I don’t care. I would’ve chosen you even without the soulmate bond. You’re too endearing to pass by. You’re too…babygirl.”

Tenko had been guiding your hand to his mouth, and he snorted before it got there, warm air scattering in a short burst. “Don’t call me that,” he said, pressing his lips to the centre of your palm and waiting until you met his gaze to retract them.

A different warmth shot to your lower stomach, but you had to keep pressing, for the sake of the bit. “Oh, then what should I—darling? Honey? Pookie bear?”

He scoffed and nipped at your pinkie. “None of those are good.”

“Tenko.”

He breathed in, shoulders rising, eyes fluttering shut. Taking a moment to kiss the tiny bite mark on your finger. “Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes in a slow blink, catlike, “Feels good. Feels—like coming home.”

Beaming, you reached down to lace his fingers through yours. All five of them squeezed back. “Then let’s go.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki/reader #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki fic #mha #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki fanfic #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmate #dash it all

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months

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I love your Overlord works so much 😭

Could you do Overlord headcanons with a SB! Reader that is a sort of high Priest/Priestess? The specialize in Holy magic and act similarly to a judge when it comes to their duties.

You can do individual characters or general headcanons. I don't know. I just really love your work. I hope you have a nice day!

Cleric Supreme Being Reader | Yandere Overlord

Before the game had closed forever you found yourself lingering still

Microphone left on as Ainz made some final addresses

In the beginning, you were regarded as a…moral authority

Often being the mediator for the guild

Supreme Judge is your title with only the guild knowing your true name

When you and Ainz are transported you lean on one another

“Satoru….is that you?”

“(Y/n)?”

It isn’t long until you’re both forced to maintain your role as the Supreme Judge

Unlike Ainz it seems the rest of the Floor Guardians and the Pleiades have much different ways of expressing their happiness that you’ve stayed

“Ah~Our Supreme Judge it is an honor to be in your presence!”

They immediately go to kiss the ground in front of your feet

Unless you explicitly say otherwise they will always report to their default

While absolutely melting at the proximity

“Those in Nazarick mean a great deal to me and thus you’re worth is invaluable to me. Lift your head.”

“OH, great judge!”

“I’m so honored!”

“So gracious as always my Judge.”

You’re not exactly stationed on the throne but you certainly aren’t expected to go into the heat of battle

Especially with Ainz nearby

Unless you commence on your mission he never meets with the others without you or lets you go anywhere without his supervision

He loved you before and he loves you now

You’re all he has left…he refuses to put you in any danger

Granted he makes that clear in how he prioritizes you being in Nazarick the majority of the time

But as a fellow supreme being he can’t contain you for long

This is why he employs the guardians to disintegrate, eat, and annihilate all that threaten their other Supreme Being

They are all incredibly hesitant to go against your supposed wishes if you verbalize feeling trapped or stifled

But he makes this argument for you being a symbol of Nazarick

To be the very symbol of integrity that Nazarick has left

That encourages everyone to treat you both like grass as you’ll unintentionally order the same thing from them

“Y-y-you can count on me, my Judge!”

“And I as well! We’ll do whatever you ask of us!”

“Your honor will be up-held with all my actions Great Judge.”

But being a Supreme Being a part of the original group you’ll have your own creations

And depending on how demented creative your imagination is it may give you the edge you need

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere overlord x reader #yandere overlord anime #yandere overlord #yandere guardians of Nazarick #yandere overlord albedo #yandere albedo #yandere cocyutus #yandere demiurge #yandere aura #yandere mare #yandere pleiades #yandere shaltear

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smokesandsonatas · 10 months

Note

can i have some headcanons of what our twisted wonderland boys will do after they graduate? you can choose only 4 if there is a limit, thank you so much

Twisted Wonderland characters after their graduation at NRC

- This really tickled my brain so I'm going to write assumptions for everyone. I drafted this around last year then only got to post this right now, haha. -

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

After his graduation from NRC, and bagging home the highest honor for an exceptional mage, I can see Riddle furthering his education. If there's such a thing as Ph.D. in Twisted Wonderland, Riddle will pursue that. I can also see him becoming a "Double Doctor," a medical doctor, and a doctor of Philosophy. Not only that but Riddle will also pursue law, along with magical medicine. A doctor and a lawyer, all in one. Riddle would go on to be an internationally recognized mage. He will also be an advocate of Mental Health education, fueled by his past and his mission to never let anyone experience what he went through.

Ace Trappola

I can honestly say I see him being recognized as a famous basketball player or entering the military enforcement of Queendom of Roses along with Deuce. Occasionally, Ace will perform magic tricks along with his brother, which is always a hit of course, someone even offered the Trappola brothers to appear in a reality show but Ace had other plans. In his 3rd year, he will become the Dorm leader of Heartslabyul, while Deuce will be his vice.

Deuce Spade

Will become a high-ranking magical enforcer, his salary will allow him and his family to live comfortably, especially his mom. Once the Queendom of Roses gave Deuce an award as the 'Hero of the Year,' he broke down into tears as he hugged his mom. Will be buddies forever with Ace.

Cater Diamond

Will be a famous vlogger. Be it traveling or fashion, Cater will be a famous influencer. He will also have a successful studio with workshops on how to run a magicam account successfully. If there's a fashion show, he would always be on the VIP list, as he is acquainted with Vil. If he feels burned out, he'll try to stay away from social media. If Cater can't form long relationships, he'll just leave his mark in the world with his vlogs. #LonelyButNotReally

Trey Clover

Owner of a famous bakeshop. His family's shop will prosper under his guidance. On every occasion, their sweets will sold out. One time a magazine listed Trey as the "sexiest pastry chef," and Cater and his other friends will never let him live with it. The Clover's Bakeshop occasionally partners with Mostro Lounge, and when they do, everything sells out within seconds.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

He does not need to work, but he is a genius as Leona is still a prince of a noble family. Have you seen those alpha males ads? Leona will be all of that. A CEO of his own company and at the same time a diplomat of Sunset Savannah to other nations. His business started out as a mining corporation, gradually expanding into construction. A noble man who many people - beastmen and beastwomen - fawn over with. A millionaire. A bachelor. Once, Farena, the current king and his older brother, called to meet with him and Leona put harshly down the phone. Leona's reason for doing this? When he realized that Farena tried to marry him off to a noble from some rich kingdom 'for his future'. Leona's reply? Is a simple scoff and a very deep, "Fuck off."

Ruggie Bucchi

Will be an assistant to Leona. The next generation of Hyenas will not experience poverty as Ruggie did. His all-around skills will come in handy as a secretary. Ruggie will be a finance speaker. He will sometimes get his hands dirty. What? Hyenas are used to it. Fear not, he's still the same old Ruggie, just a little more rich.

Jack Howl

After graduation, Jack will get a lot of offers to be a professional magift player. Leona will offer to sponsor him tho, so he doesn't need to worry about financial things. Will be an advocate of physical health, his muscular physique is no joke. I can see Jack being a well-known magift player and a track and field competitor, with the help of Prof. Vargas as a head coach.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

In every nation, there's a branch of Mostro Lounge. Azul will be listed as the "Top 100 most successful bachelors," along with Jade, possibly Floyd, Vil, and Leona. Azul would go on to accumulate a lot of awards for his splendid business skills. Will own a share in almost all known companies. He'll have to pull strings from Idia to let him invest or buy shares from Jupiter Enterprises. Azul will be compared to the Sea Witch due to how influential he is. Once his mother passed him their restaurant in the Coral Sea, Azul's work will quadruple, and so is his income. Because of him, the mermen's view of octomerpeople will change. But for a darker secret, Azul will be known as the Mediator, and every Mostro Lounge place will be known as a neutral territory for members of the 'other' world. Of course, the Leech twins will still stick with him.

Jade Leech

Jade will inherit their Father's mafia legacy, along with Floyd. The Leech family will prosper under the twins' rule. Jade will open a mushroom business, as to what kind of mushrooms he's selling Jade will smile in response and say it's a fresh mushroom from the mountain. Jade's favorite base of operation would be on land, it's just more fun and chaotic when he watches humans stutter and pass out once he interrogates them. Jade will work as Azul's concierge, working for both him and the Leech family. And in the morning, he'll be the vice manager of Mostro Lounge. But sometimes it does get a little boring. Once a company famous for being greedy with their demands easily relents when they realize it is The Jade Leech that will conduct business with them. Such a shame, Jade would've loved to see the look on their faces.

Floyd Leech

Floyd would be proud of his shoe collection! By now he would have a hundred pair of shoes. Of course, he's still with Jade and Azul, acting as the brawns of the trio. He will make it a point with them to only give him interesting jobs, if it's boring? Floyd would abandon that. One time he learned to drive, he brought his sports car to another country and accidentally got pulled over in the Queendom of Roses, to his surprise it is Mackerel (Deuce) who pulled him over! Floyd paid for the ticket and then went on to hang out with him. Floyd's favorite part of his job is squeezing everyone that owes them unpaid debts!

Though Floyd just doesn't understand why Momma Leech wants to introduce him to a mermaid. Jade is laughing at first, but not anymore once his twin realized that their Momma intends to introduce him to a mermaid too! Floyd will never forget the look on Jade's face - that's probably reflected on him - once their Momma gushes over about 'baby eels'. What? Mermaid eels have little populations. They have to do their part, don't they?

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim inherited his father's multi-million business. Through his easygoing personality, Kalim is well-loved by everyone. He established business trade routes with almost every nation, while still honoring his personal ones. An example is with the Felmier's, so that their apples will be enjoyed by everyone in Scarabia. The threats grew along with the Asim's already immense wealth. Don't worry, Kalim by now, will know how to defend himself using his unique magic. He just had to know how to reply with the various marriage proposals going his way, it pains Kalim to reject every single one, you know.

Jamil Viper

After his graduation at NRC, Jamil would take a year or two for himself. He will travel across Twisted Wonderland, and by this time Jamil's perception of the world would change. Finally prioritizing himself and is selfish for once. When he will come back, however, he will be met with a warm welcome from the citizens of Scalding Sands and the Asim and Viper family. Jamil would go on to become a successful businessman and bodyguard best friend of Kalim. But this time, they're on equal footing.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

There's no spotlight if there's no Vil Schoenheit. He will become the highest-paid actor for straight 5 years, until Neige just slightly beats him, running off a few hundred thousand madol. But in the same year, Neige surpassed him in pay, Vil went on to win the Best Actor award for his work in a movie as a misunderstood villain protagonist. His movie even screened in the coral sea! As if there's no stopping him, his successful cosmetics company took off Twisted Wonderland by storm, his eye palette alone is sold out within seconds.

Rook Hunt

Oh dear, Rook will also inherit the Hunt's family business. One moment someone can see Rook in Quendom of Roses then the next he would be spotted on Sage Island. Of course, Rook will not stop admiring beauty and arts! He will fund archaeological studies, theater, art museums, galleries, and even beauty pageants. Rook will be one of the art and beauty industry's most important benefactors.

Epel Felmier

Will be known as the "pretty boy of magift." Not in a bad way, but more like a compliment. His talent is honed thanks to his NRC club. Sometimes Epel would attend fashion shows that present him as a "manly man", you know wearing suits and all of that. Because of his new-found fame, the Felmier's apple business will bloom, in part thanks to Kalim.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Will become the head of S.T.Y.X, but will also manage the Shroud's position in Jupiter Enterprises. On top of that, Idia will develop one of the best MMORPG and FPS games Twisted Wonderland had ever seen. Additionally, Idia won't just stop in developing games, he will also develop magic-infused medical devices that will drastically change the healthcare industry, crediting the Idia Shroud for its invention.

Once a magazine included Idia in their "Top 100 most successful bachelors," he almost sued them if not for Azul, Ortho and his parents convincing him it's a good thing. But Momma and Papa Shroud can't help but wonder when will they have grandkids, the Shroud's need an heir to continue their duties, you know.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho will stay at his brother's side! But his looks will drastically change, if the Ortho from before looks young, the Ortho from the future will have a much taller body, but he will still regain his childlike curiosity. Only the future Ortho is more mature and more open to take time for himself. He will ask Idia to send him off to faraway lands to gather information and to also satiate his curiosity about the real world. Ortho will become independent yet still close to his brother.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

Malleus' coronation is one of the most liveliest and solemn celebrations Briar Valley had seen for the last 5 centuries. Under King Malleus' rule, his kingdom will prosper. Faes and humans alike will come to a much more common understanding. Although the valley still heavily relies on magic, technology will become available, as a courtesy of the friendship acquaintanceship of Idia.

On some days, Malleus will truly get busy. Managing a country and it's affairs is no small feat. Through trades and partnership with every Kingdom, from Savanaclaw to the Coral Sea courtesy of his two alumni schoolmates from NRC, Briar Valley will prosper. It just gets annoying sometimes when the news reporters, the common folk, the fae senators, and even his own grandmother will ask him about an heir. Malleus still needs to find someone who will stay by his side, and it's not an easy thing to do.

Lilia Vanrouge

Sweet old man Lilia is on his way to retirement. In the chapter of Diasomnia, we learned that his magic is running out. Well, all good things must come to an end. Though his eventual retirement in the Land of the Red Dragon came true, he still returned. And Lilia had his fair share of adventures. Because Malleus is busy with the preparations for his coronation, Lilia is there to help him. On the occasion he's free to do anything, Crowley offered him a teaching position in NRC, which is the spot left open by Professor Trein. Lilia accepted, and for a semester he become a teacher, quitting right after to attend Malleus' coronation.

Lilia liked to think a had lived a full life. He was it all. A fearsome general, a caretaker of the young prince, an adoring father, and a good friend.

Sebek Zigvolt

No one dares to Disrespect the King under my watch! That is what he would occasionally say. If one of Briar Valleys' own Fae advisors disrespects Malleus, expect Sebek to speak, and even draw his sword. Yes, he's part human and half Fae but that doesn't mean he's not powerful enough to defend the king.

With this Sebek will grow in closer relationship with his grandfather and his mortal dad. His parents' dentistry business will expand, and for some time Sebek's face is the model of it, which made him embarrassed, yet he still loves his parents nonetheless.

Silver

I can see Silver honoring his promise to Lilia and staying by Malleus'side. However, that is considering if his feelings don't change. Silver will quickly become one of Briar Valley's most beloved humans, and for some reason, he always gets mistaken as an RSA graduate. Once Vil invited him to cover for a sick model in a fashion show and he declined but Vil already presented his picture to the photographers. For some reason, his picture was leaked to the public and Silver's name is trending for days. Some say he's a child of the king, and others compare him to Neige's beauty. His face was everywhere in magicam, with the hashtags "the most handsome sleepy prince," and the "dreamy prince of dreams."

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lilac-rose-writes · 16 days

Text

SO THAT NEW TRAILER, HUH?

WHYYYY IS APPLEGATE ALIVE???

also she's a lunch lady now bc she knows nothing about teaching <3 girlie got demoted on her first day <33

ALICE'S SCHOOL, CALLED IT >:D

the new characters look interesting! i think it's very curious that davey is the "former principal's son"- we see no principal at all throughout the trailer. where the heck are they??? what happened?? and why is davey's mission to "stop the janitor"?? which janitor???? the one with the murder hole or the one with the bloody mop?????

checked the character descriptions again and it turns out the new janitor has a NAME and is also the principal now. my bad. go regis. dubious kinggg. i wonder how the past principal disappeared,,

(WHEREEE IS BOB,, WHEEEERRRREEE ARE MY LIL HOODIE CHILDREN,,, AND FELIX,,, AND JEROME,,, AND BUGGS,,,, AND OZZY,,,??,???)

ms lovelett is so me-coded. i too would put on a play for five year olds and rhyme everything

can't believe they mashed up monty. AGAIN. at least he got to chuck food at the janitor first :))

HE'S IN A DRESS???? and he hates it. who put him in a dress??

who's been trying to hurt the crocodile? i just wanna give it a lil boop. regis did u try to hurt the crocodile??? for shameee

NOTHING ELSE MATTERS, THERE'S A SCHOOL HAMSTER AND I LOVE HIM

duck riddle's in the cafeteria this time! but whERE is jerome to tell us what it is??? D:

the nurse is smoking,,, right next to a big "no smoking" sign,,,, in her medical room,,,, that she presumably but there

HELP I JUST SAW THE GRAFFITI ON THE WALL

it's gonna say "ducks", isn't it? we'll take off the odd sheet of paper and it will say "ducks". calling it now

ted-nugget friendship in the cafeteria???

WHERE ARE BILLY AND LILY IM CRYINGGG

bob,, bob i miss u bob,,, bob come bACK

genuinely though where the heckadoodle is felix?? he's like. the most popular character in the fandom. what HAPPENED?

more green goo here,, hmmm. applesoft is so shady, maybe felix'll be back later?

the timeline stuff is really weird. it seems like random events from each loop pass over while one timeline stays mostly the same. how is applegate not dead? she got really stabbed. like that was a whole thing. she should be very stabbed and dead right now. is felix dead from the cain's not able alt?

we're not done with monsters or bloody bags just yet! what are they doing in the principal's office..????

IS THAT A FREAKIGN SWORD????

PLEASE tell me the twins are just investigating in secret again. there is SO MUCH to investigate. they would be in their ELEMENT here

the dustbin looks very suspicious. like why does it look like that. i don't trust it

some things never change <33 just like our inability to read <333

I'M SO HYPED FOR THIS

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detachedminxsfics · 2 years

Text

Spit

Read Part II

Characters: Negan x Alexandrian F!Reader, Maggie, Gabriel, Elijah

Summary: Negan and you were split from the rest of the group, and when he decides the mission is a lost cause, a fight ensues. Set in the events of S11 E5.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Warnings: NSFW - Rough vaginal sex, spitting, mild choking, very mild blood play, hate fuck, dom Negan, mortal enemies, humiliation, xtra DILFy S11 Negan, filthiest shit I've ever written tbh

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, I needed to write some Negan angst. And I'm tempted to write a part two? 😫

Negan trailed behind you as you pushed open the door to the place you knew the group would attempt to regroup at, your gun raised vigilantly in order to scan your surroundings. When you saw nothing of concern you slipped your pistol back into your holster, settling down a little knowing you'd have to spend a considerable amount of time here. Until the sound of a familiar voice put tension in the air.

"So, what? We hang around here with our fingers up our asses just hoping that the others are alive, letting those assholes catch up to us?" Negan broke the silence, and you already hoped he had never said anything in the first place.

You, Negan, Maggie, Alden, Gabriel, Daryl and whoever else may be left had been split, and unfortunately, you ended up with Negan. You'd ended up taking the same cover in a fire fight, and he pulled you with him when the two of you made a run for it.

"I'm not abandoning my friends, but I wouldn't expect you to understand that." You bit back, glaring at him with cold narrowed eyes.

Alike Maggie, you'd never really forgiven Negan for what he did that one dark night, taking two of your family like that. Abraham and Glenn were good men, more than that, and they didn't deserve to be put down in that way. It made you sick to have to visually reflect upon it, so much of that night was a blur, yet vivid in the worst of parts.

"You know what, yeah, I don't. We've got some supplies, and we don't even know if the others are alive, why not take the win now? Get ahead of those shitdicks, and not wait around here to die like sitting ducks for people that are probably already dead."

What was left of your patience thinned out and crumbled, for it was never really all that durable when it came to Negan anyway.

"Just shut up! Fuck you, Negan. They're alive, and they'll be coming here, and we're gonna wait for them whether you like it or not. So sit, down." The venom in your words couldn't be anymore potent, clear as day as you snapped and raised your voice at him.

You caught him clenching his jaw, suppressing the urge to turn this into a screaming match, and it fell silent again. Having figured the matter had been resolved or somewhat stifled you headed over to your bag and sifted through your things, making sure you still had all of your belongings, until you heard shuffling. When you looked up to investigate the source of the sound Negan was packing, gathering his bags and some of the supplies that we'd scavenged. Things people had risked and lost their lives for.

"What do you think you're doing?" You began to interrogate him, approaching him to stand with your arms crossed against your chest completely stand-offish.

"I'm leaving." He answered bluntly, a short response meant to minimise your frustration, but it only worsened.

"Not with those supplies." You reaffirmed just as bluntly, leading Negan to sigh in response.

"I'm taking 'em back to Alexandria." Negan replied plainly, every offhanded response from him fuelling the fire of your rage more and more.

"You don't just get to cop out like this, there are responsibilities. This mission isn't over."

There was no guarantee that those supplies would make it back to Alexandria in his hands, and you wouldn't let his self-pitiful attitude go unnoticed.

"It is for me."

For him, for him? It was always about what Negan needed, what Negan wanted. What about what your people wanted, what Alexandria needs? His selfish tendencies were the final step in urging you over breaking point, and so you succumbed to your irritation, albeit in a very high school way. You snatched the handle of the bag he was holding from his hand and tossed it aside, giving him a hard shove that sent him stumbling back a few steps. He responded rather hastily by seizing your forearms, attempting to dissuade you from attacking him any further. You only thrashed against his grip, grunting your frustration inbetween your attempts to pull your arms from his hold. With all the momentum the two of you began to turn, heading in an entirely different direction as Negan furrowed his brows and attempted to snap you of it.

"Stop it!" Negan belted out, his gravelly voice booming from having raised his voice at you.

It didn't deter you though, and you continued to struggle until you eventually freed yourself, slamming your hands hard against his chest and leaving him attempting to find balanced footing again. With the force of that final push a space had formed between the two of you, both of you cautious as to whether one or the other would be the first to close it, to continue fighting one another. But you did neither, just stared at one another. That dark look in his eye was swirling again, a murderous stare that you knew all too well, and you were sure you were doing the same. You were panting from loss of breath due to how much energy you had just expended, but Negan stood untempered. Negan was the first to move, beginning a slow approach that had you stepping back from him further and further. Though he moved in small steps distance was closing fast, and you felt the internal panic when you felt a hard solid wall press up against your back, having backed yourself into the hypothetical corner.

"Shit." You muttered quietly, Negan taking his final few steps until he was directly opposite you, your chest practically pressed against his. He said nothing, and his stare remained unintelligible, simply looming over you without one word.

"Fuck you." Unashamed you made one last dig at him, and alarmingly enough, Negan smiled at you.

"If it'd shut you up for good, happily." He spoke lowly, his husky words right by your ear.

The response from him so sincere and unabashed you could feel your blood boiling, and you settled with the first thing that came to mind. Gathering some of the saliva in your mouth you parted your lips slightly and then quickly closed them, spitting right in his face. He groaned as he felt the wetness hit his cheek, reaching up and wiping his face dry with the back of his fingerless gloves, never once breaking eye contact with you. To your misfortune the saliva you'd kindly deposited onto his face was not enough to humiliate him entirely, but had some of the desired effect you had wanted. Negan looked riled, though he had tried to remain complacent the faint squint of his eyes gave him away, and the subtle clench to his jaw as he stared you down. Wordlessly, he flattened his palms against the wall either side of your head, entrapping you in the position you'd incidentally put yourself in.

"Open your mouth." Negan demanded bitterly, and you felt your cheeks fill with heat, utterly stupefied by what he had just asked you to do.

"Hell no." You bit back, earning a dangerous warning stare from Negan.

"Open your damn mouth."

You stared at him firm in your decision not to, and he waited a few moments before realising you wouldn't budge, and decided to handle you accordingly. With unanticipated rapid movements one of the palms Negan had flattened against the wall he'd snatched back and used to grip your jaw, applying pressure at the sides so hard and in such a way it began to force your mouth open. Forcibly Negan parted your lips, and you whined against his pressurised touch, restrained into anticipating his next move. Gathering the fluids best he could Negan brought all of his spit to the front of his tongue and leaned in enough to the point where he knew it would land on your tongue, spitting hard into your open mouth. You coughed a little from the shock of Negan's spit flying into your mouth, some of it escaping down your throat, only earning an approving chuckle from him.

"You liked that, didn't you, me spitting in your pretty little mouth? Be honest with me, I'll know if you're not."

The fact that Negan had recognised the shift in your expression before you even knew yourself startled you, like he could see through any deception or emotions you may have. Disturbingly enough, you'd enjoyed it to some extent. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from having taken out some of your frustrations on him, and spitting in his face after telling him to go fuck himself, but other feelings had began to surface. Urges that you couldn't quite distinguish.

"In your dreams." You remonstrated, not quite as firmly as you had hoped when you sounded it out in your head.

Negan grinned in response to your obvious dismay of the way that being manhandled by him made you feel, coming to terms with his own enjoyment of treating you like this.

"Oh don't worry, you're a goddamn nightmare."

Negan slammed his lips against yours, and it was like a floodgate had been opened, emotions and chemical reactions amongst other things consuming you entirely. You moved your lips back against his, attempting to keep up with the roughness. His stubble skimmed across your skin as you decided to nip his lip a little, drawing blood and causing him to groan into your mouth.

"Shit, should've known you'd be a freaky one." Negan commented as he swiped his thumb across his lip, gathering some of the blood there and smearing it across your own.

You kissed again, a hard and rough movement of one another's mouths, smearing his blood across both of your lips. In hungry movements Negan began to gather the fabric of your shirt in his hands, putting adequate tension on the material before yanking it hard. You gasped as you felt cool air hit your skin, he'd ripped your damn shirt open, the buttons flying onto the ground beneath you and pinging against the wood floor to reveal your tight fitting tank top underneath.

"Negan!" You exasperated, swatting him on the arm from the shock of what he had done.

He only snickered from having exposed you in such a way, closing his hand around the wrist of the hand you'd used to swat him with a firm grip and slamming it back against the wall, your knuckles faintly stinging from the impact of the collision.

"Oh c'mon, you can have mine." Negan suggested, not giving you time to respond as you felt his lips again.

Negan's fingers hooked in the hem of your tank top and began to hike the fabric up, pulling back momentarily only to help yank the top over your head. He threw it carelessly onto the floor, and you decided to return the favour. Unlike him, you unbuttoned his wrinkled blue shirt from bottom to top. Meticulously sliding your fingers beneath the material at the top of his shoulders and pushing it down his arms. The moment his shirt had gathered at his wrists you reached around and pulled from the back, tossing it into an area somewhere around yours. The moments to come were spent removing your clothes as fast as you could, a desire brewing deep within your body, a vile way to feel for him. It made you sick. With your panties dangling loosely around one of your ankles, your tank top hiked up your chest just enough to expose your breasts, Negan hoisted you up. He'd discarded the light grey tshirt he wore beneath his blue one, chest now bare to expose his generously hairy chest and the beaded necklace hanging just below his collarbone. With hands gripping the skin beneath your thighs he wedged himself in the space between them, using the way he'd mushed you between the wall and himself to support you whilst he worked at the zipper of his jeans, pushing it down until it came slack at his calves. He was left in nothing but boxers.

"I've always wondered what you looked like beneath those clothes, and your body is smokin'." Negan knew that subtle tease would piss you off, and you responded by glaring at him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

"Don't speak, at least not right now, just fuck me. Hopefully you can prove useful for once." You rebuked, and Negan raised his brows to feign offense.

"Ohh is that so? We'll see about that."

During your back and forth snapping he'd pushed his boxers down and lined himself up with you, slamming upward without warning. His hands returned to the underside of your thighs whilst you cried out in pain, him not even bothering to ease you into it. He didn't wait for you to adjust either, moving his hips as he groaned from the feeling of being inside you. The pain eased off rather fluidly, and you were left with the most reprehensible satisfaction. Negan ground into you, totally unbridled thrusts that had you whining so pathetically you were sure you'd attract a horde, or be heard for miles.

"That's what I fucking thought, do you like this baby? You like being used huh?"

Overwhelmed with your conflicting feelings for him you unwrapped one of your arms from his neck and slapped him, a harsh hit that had Negan grumbling from the sharp pain in his cheek. He groaned and took one of his hands from your thigh, placing it on your throat with the faintest pressure, it was more an injunction.

"Keep your hands to yourself or I'll tie 'em, do you want me to stop?"

You were quick to admonish him from stopping, a hint of desperation in your tone that had you realise you were damn near begging him not to.

"No no, Negan don't stop. Please..."

He grinned at your plead, his half lidded eyes haughty with arrogance. He'd leaned forward now, his forehead tipped against yours whilst his hand remained around your throat, noses brushing as you exchanged air panting hot breath into one another's mouths. This was filthy, sinful even. The dirty feeling of being so full, full of him, the pleasure he filled you with subduing you into this breathy mess. You couldn't think about anything other than his hard and fast thrusts, your hips connecting with every unconstrained movement. The group could return at any moment, walk in on Negan bottoming you out against the wall of an abandoned house, but you weren't entirely sure either of you cared. To finally give each other something worth giving, to put all the burning hatred and distaste you had for one another to use was addicting. Intoxicating.

"Holy shit." You fell into a string of curses, your one way of vocalising the feeling of knotting in your abdomen, trembles working their way through your legs.

Fuelled by your approaching release you moved your hands down from the nape of his neck to the back of his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin and clawing your way down his back making Negan grit his teeth. Negan was agonisingly close too, his face buried in the crook of your neck and occasionally sucking marks into the skin there. When he knew he was about to tip you over the edge he moved his head back, his face coming back to lie in front of yours again. Strands of hair had fallen from his impromptu slick, cascading over his sweat beaded skin and leaving him totally disheveled. Knowing that you caused this, made him look like that was a confidence boost to say the least, and it only helped to fuel your impending orgasm. Frantically the hand he'd left resting against your throat moved up to hold your jaw, less harshly than he had before, but firm. He was holding your head to leave you with no choice but to face him directly, meeting his eye with the utmost devout attention.

"That's it baby, I wanna see you, I want to remember how you looked when I gave you the best fucking of your life." He murmured, mesmerised by the look of pleasure etched across your features.

Unsurprisingly you came undone, wholly ruined as one of the most intense orgasms you had ever felt ripped through you. Your mewls filled the room, and you squeezed your eyes shut, head aching to tip back but unable to due to his touch. He watched with unashamed inclination, basking in it as he reached his own release. With appropriate haste he removed himself from you and emptied his release onto the floor, coarse groans joining your own faded whimpers. Subsequently riding out both of your vehement highs you remained holding one another. Your legs wrapped loosely around his waist and your hair messy, the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing stabilised becoming gradually softer. Your head was resting against his chest, and he started running his fingers through your hair, wordlessly sharing this earnest moment with one another. Every part of you still hated him, wanted to hurt him for all the pain he'd caused you and the people you cared for, but you could see through your own blinding hatred for the first time in years. The feeling was only temporary, but you savored it for what you could. To be at peace.

"We need to get dressed, can you help me?" You were faintly embarrassed to ask, but your legs were still too shaky to stand on unsupported, and the adrenaline hadn't subsided much either.

"Alright." He whispered, planting a meek kiss at the top of your head.

Neither of you thought too much of it, and Negan helped you dress presentable again. He rolled your tank top down your body and helped slip his blue shirt on you, buttoning a few of the buttons and practically resembling the way he usually wore it. Then he guided your panties back up your legs and hauled your jeans up past your thighs, your palms resting against his shoulders as he bent down to assist you in order to allow you the support you needed to maintain balance. By time he'd helped you dress you were feeling a little better, doing your best to ignore the sure soreness you'd feel in your crotch soon enough. Negan pulled his pants and boxers up from his ankles, pulling his grey tee over his head and dusting off any dust and residue it'd gathered from the floor. His arms were exposed now, but it'd have to do until you found something else for you to cover up with. He was the one who caused this issue in the first place, so rightly he paid the consequences. Now fully dressed you stood opposite one another, gazing in an untold way that only the two of you would ever know the reason behind, and the door opened. Startled you turned to watch the door and had your hand readied over your pistol, Negan too readily raising his crowbar. Relieved both of you lowered your weapons and wary demeanours when Maggie and Elijah supporting a worse for wear Gabriel walked through the door, and you sighed, a smile spreading across your face. You hurried over and threw your arms around Maggie, which she more than happily returned.

"You made it." Maggie leaned back to get a good look at you, sharing a moment with you whilst Gabriel closed the door behind them.

When she noticed the change of shirt, most noticeably the fact that you were wearing Negan's, she glanced over at him, looking back and forth between the two of you.

"What the hell happened to you two?" Maggie exclaimed, both intrigued and concerned.

You opened your mouth to speak and stumbled over your words a little, causing Negan to chime in.

"One of those reaper assholes got the jump on her, and her shirt got messed up. I gave her mine." Negan explained from the other side of the room, the two of you exchanging glances as you silently thanked him for his excuse.

It wasn't a total lie, but he had bent the truth, that was for sure. There had been a tussle with a reaper in question, but you won it indefinitely, and you took cover as a gunshot flew past your head just afterwards. That's when your paths had crossed. Maggie nodded and held your face in her hands, your eyebrow and cheek had gotten busted, and Negan was worse for wear too. You supposed a rough fuck after the chaos you and Negan had gotten out of wasn't the brightest idea, your bones achy and brittle now.

"Let's rest up a little, gather our strength." She suggested and you nodded in agreement.

Maggie went on to explain to you the both fates and unknown whereabouts of the others scattered in the surrounding area, and how those presumably alive were still out there. And so you spoke simply, a sincere suggestion that you were sure everybody but Negan shared a desire to uphold.

"So we wait."

You briefly turned to look at Negan, and you could see how his eyes were faintly narrowed with his disapproval of the idea, but you could care less. And he knew you did too. You were back at each other's throats again, and you couldn't have loved it more.

#the walking dead negan #negan x y/n #negan x you #twd negan #negan smith #here's negan #negan fic #negan smut #the walking dead #negan twd #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan

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jentledaisies · 1 year

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . You're Attacked But They Think You're Trying To Escape

[ gif by @lisanamjoon ]

→ ❝ in which you’re attacked and run away but they believe you’re trying to escape them ❞

Warning: Stockholm Syndrom, manipulative behavior, blood/injuries, weapons[knives, guns], murder(semi-graphic), profanity, yandere

- fully got this idea from @ninetailedfoxmanchi post here ! it’s for bts n when i read it i was like “wow, kinda wanna write a version of that for our girls” no but really, for all my fellow army's here, pls check them out!

disclaimer: This is not in any way shape or form a representation of Jisoo, Jennie, Rosè, Lisa, or Blackpink as a whole. All reactions, actions, thoughts, words, and general emotions are fiction and created by me. The behavior shown in these reactions is toxic and unhealthy, but fantasized in a romantic way for simply that, fantasy. None of this should be taken seriously or sought after in real life, or performed. please do not romanticize this behavior/mindset in real life as it is unhealthy and toxic, and if you or anyone you know is in such an environment, should be taken out of immediately. Again, this blog is purely fiction, and all acts taken place in this blog should remain so.

↳ None of my characters, yandere or otherwise, will ever nor would ever perform, act, or consider sexual activities of any sort without consent. full stop. Any and all sexual acts are done with the full consent of all parties taking place. i will never, ever, ever write otherwise or even consider writing otherwise. disclaimer 2: as this is a reaction for all four separate members of blackpink, there will be discrepancies in the length of each. not all will be the same length and this is for no other reason than that i as the author attempting to prevent run-ons and unnecessary additions to that part of the story. the length of each reaction in no way shape or form a show of favoritism or dislike towards any member. literally ever. pls stop putting those ridiculous accusations in my inbox, it's a vv far reach. ↳ some AUs for the yandere!blackpink reactions will be based on other folklore/mythology. (yandere!goddess , etc) these reactions will not be accurate to the true mythology/folklore but rather variations and adaptions made to assist the reaction/world of the reaction.

『••✎••』

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft sound of flipping pages, coming from the book you're currently reading. Your lover had to head to work early today due to a significant issue brought up at last night's mission. She didn't tell you when she would be home, but she said she could either be home early or late. You were hoping for early because as much as you hated to admit it, her presence around you and with you is more than something you're used to, it's something you crave.

And the silence with her gone was deafening. You have never hated being alone so much before.

The book in your hands loses your interest as you take to just flipping the pages, eyes trailing over the extremely large penthouse. According to her, this was the very first house she had purchased in which she lived alone. Before then she had mainly lived with the other three inner circle members, whom she considered her true sisters. It's large, much too large for one person, or even two, but she was mature enough to admit she enjoyed showing off her wealth in her house. According to her, when you became her lover, you made this more than just her house, you made it your home.

But since then, the two of you had been looking at other places to move to, not because you disliked this apartment but because you both wished to move somewhere that you could begin to truly build your life together. After all, she had more than enough money.

The list had narrowed down to four properties, based on all of the things you said you liked and wanted, and then she turned the responsibility of picking the final home out to you, so she could know that you truly love the home the two of you would go to.

And as the book starts to reach the last of its pages your eyes are drawn to the folders on the coffee table with the location pictures, interior pictures, dimension sizing, building rating, site history, etc. All the information you needed to make the most informed decision possible without leaving your current home. Of course, sans the pricing and all. She stated up and down that she would simply buy the building (and possibly the land it's on) and leave it all signed to you in a contract, that way should anything ever happen to her she could still take care of you.

The last page flips and the cover joins the rest of the book. You frown at the now closed book for a second -you forgot to put a bookmark in your spot- before setting it on the table to grab the folders instead. Since you have the time to kill, you may as well start looking over these.

You're unsure how much time passes with you flipping through each folder and creating a pro/con list in your notebook but you do know that you've gone over all of them twice when the door to the apartment starts to turn, the distinct sound of the lock clicking open causing you to stand and turn eagerly.

"Hey! I'm glad you're back because I think I know which one I like..." Your voice trails away as an unfamiliar woman steps through the door, shutting it softly but not locking it.

"Sorry," The corner of her lips curve up. "I don't think it was me you were expecting."

You're immediately taken with a sense of uneasiness and dread, your girlfriend had never introduced you to any other member of her gang. Only the other inner circle members. In fact, she always swore that she'd never bring any other member into your home.

"W-Who are you?" Your voice is shaky as you figure out the answer to your question before she answers. Though the slight drop in her mouth lets you know that she notices.

"I'm a friend of-"

"That's a lie." You cut her off before she can say your lover's name, unsure of what you were doing in exposing her lie. You were one person who had never really been trained past basic self-defense against a possible enemy gang member. "I asked who you are."

She just smiles wickedly as she slips a small blade into her hand. "Jung Ji-Ho wishes to simply say hello. It's not you who he wants, but I suppose you will do."

With that, she lunges toward you, faster than you expected, and creates a large cut on your arm as you attempt to run away. Your notebook flies under the sofa and the pictures go everywhere as you make a mad dash to the front door, the woman fast behind you. She reaches out and yanks you back by your hair, a scream leaving you as you pull away, leaving strands of your hair in her hand. She goes to cut you again and you don't think as you grab the knife with one hand and hit her face with the other.

"Hit between the eyes," M/N had told you. "It'll stun them enough for you to get away. Don't worry, I'll be there to save you then."

She flinches away, dragging the blade painfully across your palm, which leaves a bloody imprint as you throw open the door and rush out, heading to the private elevator. And just to your luck it opens, and you run in, not to an empty elevator, but into the arms of your love.

She was here to save you now, but you look up into her eyes, and you're only met with burning anger and bitter betrayal.

Kim Jisoo

[ gif by @intolisa ]

"And where do you think you're going, Darling?" Jisoo always looks cold but somehow she manages to look even more so as she stares at you, locking her hands onto your arms to hold you in place.

"Jisoo! You're here!" You shout in surprise, ready to tell your lover about the situation, but she misunderstands your rush to be fear of being caught.

She pushes you back with force, albeit gently, her hands locked tightly on your forearms. Her eyes bore into your own and you're frozen in place, forgetting everything as fear creeps up your spine. The elevator lets out a soft ding and the doors start to close behind her, snapping you from your stupor.

"We need to go!" You shout and lunge towards the buttons, stopping as she yanks you back, eyes steely and blank.

"Excuse me? We are not going anywhere but back into our home." She punctuates her words by tugging you closer.

"No, you don't understand-"

"I think I understand pretty well." Jisoo's voice is cold, devoid of any emotion although you can tell she's hurt. "What, you didn't think I'd come home on time? Were you wishing I stayed late? You thought you could just, slip away, and I wouldn't notice that my heart was gone?!"

You jump as she shouts the last words, hands reaching for her on instinct to calm her, and blood smears on her white t-shirt, the red handprint almost seeming like paint.

"I'm so sorry!" You blurt, your hands reaching forward in an instinctive attempt to wipe it off, but to no surprise, you end up smearing it more and reminding yourself of the situation. "Shit. Ok no, Jisoo please, we need to go now. Please."

Jisoo raises an eyebrow at your pleading, finally taking a moment to survey her surroundings once your blood smears on her shirt. The small, lines on the wall from where you stumbled through, the way the apartment door isn't even fully closed. The panic in your eyes and the injuries on your body.

Finally understanding she pushes you behind her gently, reaching for her brass knuckles as the door opens and the attacker steps out. Her glare sets deeper into her face, pushing the guilt of how she spoke to you away to focus on this scum that thought they could hurt her girl.

"Your name. Now." Jisoo simply demands, not in the mood to hear any excuses from the woman's mouth.

Clearly, the lady wasn't expecting the calm and almost bored demeanor that Jisoo had, given that she was standing so defensively and with her knives held tight. Your blood shines on the blades and catches your lover's eyes.

Jisoo glares so intensely at the woman that her knees start to shake, but it's not enough. She steps forward, scoffing as the attacker takes two steps back, and does it again. The dance continues until the attacker is up against a wall, holding out her knives as a pitiful defense. She can barely even blink before Jisoo punches her, breaking her nose immediately with her brass-enforced knuckles.

"What? You're not happy to see me?" Jisoo teases with a cruel pout, laughing slightly. "I thought that's what you wanted."

She doesn't wait for any response before she hits again, this time the woman's stomach. The screaming huff that leaves her makes you wince, but you don't move from the spot you're in, and try as you might you can't seem to tear your eyes away either.

"You know what? I don't need your name," Jisoo slams her fist into her face again, knocking her down. "I'll get it out of you later. Little bitch. Thought you could break in and hurt my girl? MY GIRL! Consider yourself very lucky I don't kill you here. Or don't, a faster death may be more merciful than what I have planned for you."

Jisoo slams her fist down again, but the woman is unresponsive, only her shallow breathing alerting the two of you to her undead state. Blood is splattered on your lover's hands and all over the unconscious woman's face. She huffs as she sits back, staring in amusement at the blood-covered woman, before remembering you.

"Darling," Her voice is a quiet sort of remorseful as she turns to face you, eyes saddening as you flinch. "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

"I-It's okay." You stutter, not even believing in yourself.

"No, it is not 'okay.' You are injured and bleeding and without even taking notice of your pain I inflicted more. Forgive me, please." This time Jisoo's voice wavers, shame filtering in.

You step forward, hesitant, and then move more surely until you can wrap your arms around her waist and bury your head in her neck. The tears come quickly after.

"I was so scared." You sob shocking Jisoo who has her hands in fists at her side. Scared that it's her you're speaking of. "When she came in I thought it was you but then she-"

You shake as you cry, Jisoo now wrapping her own arms around you, realizing the terror that must've stricken you at the intruder. She doesn't let you continue, holding you close by your waist and your head, placing kisses on the side.

"I'm here. I'm here and your safe, my darling." She soothes your hair, shuffling to move you both into the penthouse. Her neck strains as she hides the anger in her voice at the damage, knowing you were the one attacked during it. "I'll always protect you. I swear."

She pulls away once the two of your reach the staircase, helping you up while texting some members to pick up the woman in the hallway. She'd take care of the mess after she took care of your injuries.

You didn't want to sit on the expensive couch, your arm and hand still bleeding heavily so the two of you enter the en suite where she has you sit on the counter. Pulling out the emergency aid kit that Lisa left at all the members' houses she chuckles wryly.

"I never thought it'd be you being patched up with this. Or ever." Jisoo jokes wryly, regret lacing her voice as she finishes washing the wounds, wincing when you did.

The cuts aren't as deep as she thought, all the blood just making them seem to like it. Jisoo's eyebrows scrunch as she focuses on disinfecting the wounds, keeping your mind off of the pain as her lips part a little. Even when she's pouring rubbing alcohol over open wounds of yours, she remains beautiful.

Jisoo recalls how Lisa told her that cuts that are big enough to bleed but not too deep like yours don't need stitches. Just a wrap. The white gauze makes Jisoo feel sick.

The fact that you're bleeding under there makes Jisoo even sicker.

"No offense but, shouldn't we ask Lisa to do this?" The question makes Jisoo laugh.

"I've done this plenty of times too! Just because I never went to med school." She grumbles as she helps you down and onto the bed. "Wait here for a moment."

She pecks your cheek as she leaves the room to fetch some tea, slipping a bit of a sedative into it, just to make sure you rest well. Walking back into the room she finds you already fluffing the pillows and in your pajamas.

"That's not waiting." She 'tsks' as she hands you the cup, raising an eyebrow as you down it like a shot. "Try and get some rest, Darling."

"Aren't you staying?" With the way your face freezes in fear, Jisoo can't bring herself to tell you that she was in fact leaving, just for a little bit.

"I'm just going to clean up the apartment before I join you. Too much adrenaline." So instead she smiles sweetly while lying. She'd leave after you slept and be back before you awoke anyway.

"Ok. I love you." Your eyes start to shut and your voice slurs as she pecks your forehead.

"I love you too, Bunny."

----

Your eyes feel weighed down when you rouse from your slumber, the room pitch black except for the light streaming in as the door opens. Jisoo walks in and in your hazy vision, you can make out the way she shrugs off her jacket, throwing it into the trash. Her dark red shirt followed soon after.

As your eyes give in to the weight a nagging voice in the back of your head reminds you that she was wearing a white shirt when she left.

Kim Jennie

[ gif by @jaennie ]

"Well, hello my love." Jennie just stares at you in surprise, but her sweet smile still spreads across her face, even though her eyes don't reflect it. "Quite funny meeting you out here...when you are meant to be in there."

Jennie's grip is gentle on you, but firm as she holds your waist and one of your hands as though leading you in a dance.

"Although, why you didn't just say you wanted to go out," her voice is chilly despite the twinge of love hidden within. "I would've taken you anywhere you asked."

"Jennie!" You know the shock on your face probably makes the situation look worse given how her face falters.

"Y/N," She starts a deep sigh escaping her. "What are you doing? And, please, just tell me the truth."

You can tell exactly what Jennie thinks you were doing and your heart breaks at how hurt you know she must feel. How her smile is so so sweet, but her eyes are cold to hide how she really feels.

"It's not what you think." You wince when you say that, you don't even know why you said that. "No! I mean, it's not...that."

"It's not what?" Jennie's smile tightens. "Tell me what it is."

"It's...There's someone in the apartment!" You can't understand why it took so long to get the words out, but Jennie's reaction is immediate. Her smile falls and her eyes dart to the door that's closed only partly.

"I don't know who she is b-but she said she knew you. I figured that was a lie but she attacked me when I went to leave! Please, I would never do that to you. I promised." Your words start to jumble as you speak as fast as you can but she understands, she always understands you.

"Where are you hurt, my love." Jennie's voice becomes soft, her shoulders loosen and her eyes sweeten. Her eyes are drawn to your bloody arm and the cut on your hand. Quickly, she sheds her blouse, leaving her in just a tank top, so she can quickly wrap it around your arm.

"Do me a favor and go in the elevator. Close the doors and wait for a bit." She tells you quickly as the door starts to open. She pulls out her gun and checks the mag before placing a kiss on your head. "Go."

"Please don't get hurt." The lady steps out of the apartment, her hair a mess and eyes glaring. Your blood stains her hand and the knife that she grips tighter when she sees your lover.

You turn quickly, dashing into the metal box, and hit the button that closes the doors before crouching in the furthest corner and hiding your ears in your hands.

You can hear Jennie scream something, but her voice is muffled by both the doors and your hands, but the slam against said doors causes the box to rattle, and a small shriek to escape you. Another shout comes but it's not from Jennie, you assume it's the other woman. A gunshot finally rings, and this time you know it's from Jennie's gun, and another bang follows. Two more ring out in quick succession, and the other woman's wails ring in your ears.

You flinch back, trying to almost dig yourself into the mirror backing of the elevator as more screams ring out. you can almost make out the pleas in them from your hands over your ears, and you feel a chill creep up your back as a faint sound of a laugh comes through.

All too soon there is another very loud slam against the elevator doors, and more gunshots ring out until a trickle of red liquid drips through the cracks. Bile rises in your throat and you scoot as far as you can into the mirrored wall, slipping as the blood pool inches closer and closer.

Ding!

The doors open and you see Jennie kick something away, and with the large thump that follows you realize it was probably the body.

"My love," She sighs as she sees your curled-up body scorching away from the blood, her eyes soften into gentle flames and her lips pout. "I am so sorry. Oh, you're hurt and I didn't even notice-"

"Please just hug me." You cut her off as you stand up, eyes still trained on the devilish red liquid on the floor. She doesn't hesitate, stepping directly into the puddle to engulf your in her arms, causing you to look away.

With much ease, she picks up your legs to have them wrap around her waist and carries you simply down the hallway until she can enter the apartment, being met with the flipped-over table and papers everywhere...and your blood covering the handle of the door. Her heart sinks as she sees the damage and feels your soft breath on the crook of her neck from where your head is hidden. She steps over the scattered pictures to enter the guest bathroom, softly placing you on the counter with a kiss on your head.

She silently pulls out her aid kit, avoiding your eyes in shame as she pulls out a cloth to wipe the excess blood away. You don't flinch as the wet cloth turns red but the rubbing alcohol is different. You're clumsy but you very rarely have such large cuts, so the stinging sensation, while not new, is still quite painful for you. At the whimper that leaves your lips, Jennie pulls away as though being burned, hands resting at her sides as her fists clench.

"I'm sorry." Her lips thin as she forces herself to continue disinfecting. "I'm so sorry."

The trace of tears on her waterline shocks you but at the same time, you almost expect them. They hurt you more than the alcohol finding its way into your open wound though so your reach your unharmed hand up to brush them away.

"Stop saying you're sorry." You make her look at you, meeting her eyes gently. "You saved me. Just like you promised me."

"Always. I'll always save you. But you're hurt and I tried to make assumptions before I helped ease the pain."

"But you understood anyway. So stop saying you're sorry." She looks back down as you smile reassuringly and you figure it's time to move on from the topic. "I think I picked a house."

"What?" Jennie looks up, puzzled at the topic.

"From the four you brought me. I think I know which one I like the most." You smile at her before frowning. "Oh, but I had written it all down in my notebook, but I don't know where it went after I threw everything."

"That's fine! I can go find it!" Jennie turns to go look but you hook your arm around her waist.

"Can you finish wrapping my arm? I don't think I'll be able to tie it on my own, then we can look at them again together."

Jennie turns around with a sheepish smile, quickly finishing the wrap on your arm, and pressing a kiss to your hand after. She rushes out of the bathroom after ordering you to stay in there for a bit longer and when you do come out the living room looks like nothing happened. Jennie pulls you to the couch and has you sit on her lap while she opens your notebook and the pro/con lists.

Every now and then your eyes drift up to look at the shoes that still have blood covered on them, waiting for the gang's cleanup crew to come to grab them. Jennie steals your attention away with kisses when you do.

Park Chaeyoung｜Rosé

[ gif by @jaennie ]

Chaeyoung's face is much calmer than her eyes. In fact, if you didn't know her so well you wouldn't think anything was wrong.

"Well aren't you in a rush? Careful, Sweets, you might hurt yourself." She leans down as she says that, almost mockingly. It's not hard to guess how the dots connected for her, it'd be hard to see the scene as anything else. Especially so soon after you had told her that no matter what, you would never leave her.

"Rosie, help me. Please." You're shaking though, from the complete terror of the person who entered your home, so you can't seem to focus on anything but asking for help. For begging your hero to save you the way she always does.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, taking in everything in the hallway, calmly and violently. Her sweet love, so soft and kind was shaking in her arms, bleeding and crying. Oh, she would burn whoever did this to the ground.

"Where?" Rosie calmly pulls her gun out and changes the clip, having emptied it earlier at 'work'. "Where is the dead man walking?"

"S-She's inside still. I pushed her a bit hard." You flinch away from your girlfriend as you say that scared at how quickly she arms herself with two guns and brass knuckles.

Rosie places her gun behind her back again, instead reaching forward to place her hands on your face and meet her eyes with yours. "Sweetheart, breath. I am here and no one will touch you like that again. I can promise you that."

You meet her eyes with shaky panic, shivering as though it was snowing though the hallway was heated. "Do you promise?"

"I swear on my life, I will personally see to the destruction of anybody who dares harm you," Rosie answers you with unwavering confidence and the trembling in your body stops. Your shoulders are still tensed like a brick wall and with the way you flinch into her when the door to your apartment opens again, Rosie almost falls over.

She pulls you behind her and pulls her gun out, making the woman across the hall freeze. Rosé aims her gun at her, turning her body to face you when she sees that the attacker isn't going to make a move. She places a soft kiss on your forehead, brushing away a tear as she pulls away.

"I'll just be a moment, Sweets."

She turns around and before she can even blink shoots a shot into the attacker's right knee. You don't see, but a cruel smile crosses her face as she hears the scream tear itself from the woman's throat. For her, it's her favorite noise from her enemies, and that woman was currently enemy number 1.

She tucks her gun away as she steps closer to the woman collapsed on the ground, she wanted to make her suffer and a gun was much too...clean.

She stands over the woman who's struggling to save face, attempting a glare at Rosé but struggling to hold the scream behind her lips. Without any feeling, Rosé brings her heeled boot back and hits a strong kick to the woman's ribs. This time you can see the faint shake in your girlfriend's shoulders as she chuckles.

Rosé bends down from the waist to look the lady in her eyes, not wanting to kneel and get her clothes dirty.

"What? Can't look me in my eyes now?" Rosé pulls out her gun again, pressing it to the woman's left foot, putting pressure when she tries to pull her leg away. "Afraid of blood? But you weren't when you decided to harm my girl."

Another shot rings and despite her wishes blood splatters on Rosé's pants. With her arm pulled back she slams her gun into the attacker's head, creating a large gash and causing her to go sprawling.

"You got my pants dirty." She stands straight and then proceeds to kick the attacker again, this time on her knee. "Oh, did that hurt? Sorry."

With a roll of her eyes, she steps on the profusely bleeding left foot, putting most of her pressure on the wound for maximum pain. No longer having the will to scream the attacker just writhes on the floor in pain, like a dying fish.

"Sweetheart," Rosé's call catches your attention, dragging your terrified eyes from the bleeding woman. "What would you like me to do?"

"What?" Your voice is hoarse, and your eyes wide, not understanding.

"With her. What would you like me to do, since she attacked you? I'll do whatever you say." Your lover's eyes soften as she looks at you, as if gently telling you it's ok. Distracting you from how she stepped on the woman like a dart holding its target.

"Do what you do." You say before quickly adding on. "But not here! Please, do whatever it is you do with...that. But don't make me see it."

Rosé hesitates for a moment before nodding, turning quickly to bash her gun handle into the attacker's head again. This time knocking her out and stopping that god-awful writhing. She steps off of the woman, kicking the unconscious woman once before turning back to you. Gentle smile back on her face like she wasn't laughing at screams earlier.

"Come, Honey." She holds her hand out for you, lacing your fingers and basically holding you up when you collapsed into her arms to walk with her back into the apartment.

She sweeps your legs up to carry you up the stairs, laying you gently in the bed as she leaves the room, returning minutes later with tea and an aid kit.

"I'm sorry. For the pain, this is about to cause and for the pain, you endured without me here." Her voice is laced with shame, soft and hesitant, but her hands work deftly in wrapping your wounds. Although she winces much harder than you don when the alcohol stings the cuts.

"Just, please don't let me be hurt again. Please."

"Never." She responds quickly, hardly even letting you finish the request. She helps guide the tea to your mouth. "I put some pain meds mixed into the tea as it'll help you relax more. They have sedation effects so you'll fall asleep quickly. I'll be here when you wake up but I will be gone while you're asleep to deal with the trash."

You nod, finishing off the chamomile tea, and placing the cup down to reach for a hug. She holds you securely, feeling the effects the sedation has on your limbs as you start to drift off. "Just, promise me, you won't tell me what you do to her. I know no matter what, you'll always protect me. I don't want to know how. I don't need to."

Your eyes close but you can feel her nod against your shoulder, and place a kiss before tucking you in. The door closes behind her.

Lalisa Manobal｜Lisa

[ gif by @sefuns ]

"You said you loved me."

Lisa can only look at you, eyes filled with betrayal and hurt, so much so that she doesn't even notice your trembling and wounds.

Her voice is strained like it pains her to make the accusation. And for a moment you forget about the current situation. Because her eyes are burning, filled with pain and betrayal stings her eyes in the form of tears and all you know is this extremely strong woman is crying and it's because of you.

"I do," You pledge to her again but your voice is pleading as you speak frantically. "I do love you. I do. But-"

"No!" Lisa cries out as you go to continue, misunderstanding what you were about to say. She pushes you then, out of the elevator and into the wall behind you, gripping your arm hard. "You told me- swore to me- that you love me. That you'll stay with me. You can't just leave! Please."

Your heart hurts as her voice cracks and how the obsessed look in her eyes takes over. But her hands pushing against the cuts on your body hurt even more. You could fix the relationship in a second but all you could say right now was:

"You're hurting me."

Lisa looks down then, finally noticing your blood, which was coating her hands. She lets you go immediately and meets your eyes, shock, and confusion covering the betrayal in them for a moment.

"Why are you bleeding?" She asks calmly, but with a new sense of panic coming over her as she spots the cut on your arm and the even deeper gash on your palm. Luck is clearly on your side today because as soon as she asks that, the woman who attacked you steps out of the apartment.

Her eyes open wide at seeing your lover with you and she freezes, giving Lisa enough time to comprehend the scene in front of her. You don't blame her for needing a second longer than normal to react, just before she was thinking you tried to leave her. Her heart just broke in two and is now in the process of unbreaking from nothing.

But naturally, your sweet lover acts with ease, entering her mafia persona and standing in front of you. She's a tall person, but as she stands with her fists clenched and shoulders back and, you assume, a glare on her face, she looks ten times taller. You can see the muscle in her jaw jump from behind her defensive position.

"Who are you?" She asks the same thing you did, voice strained but calm. A chill, however, crawls down your spine at the detached cold tone you've never heard before. Not even on that day she rescued you, she had only sounded annoyed at your former captor, the man who sends his hello through the woman standing at the end of the hall.

"Miss Manobal, I'm here to-"

"I asked who you are." Lisa interrupts her, similar to what you had done, although you assume that the woman is telling a truth instead of a lie this time. "Actually, don't bother. I remember you from that day. What does Jung want this time? We're not interested in any deals and he's too incompetent to launch any successful attacks against us."

She looks mildly offended across the hall and Lisa lets out another cold laugh.

"Oh, is that what this is? An attempt at an attack? Of course, it is. A stupid plan really, you're not talented enough to get away with a single assassination." At the girl opening her mouth to argue Lisa lifts a finger and clicks her tongue. "No. I'm right. You wanna know how I know?"

As Lisa toys with the woman across the hall, a sense of dread fills you like never before. The woman is frozen, in fear or curiosity you don't know, you're not too sure for yourself either. All you know is Lisa has her gun in her hidden hand and a devious smile on her face. You can tell she's angry from the tone of her voice, yet it still sounds cool and calm. Lisa has her prey in the palm of her hand, and if the prey is you or the lady, you can't tell.

"I can tell because," Lisa is close to her now, but instead of attacking she finishes her story. "That meeting, the one you were at, was set up for an alliance, to give the Jungs access to our assassination teams. He knows he can't give a good attack, so he came running to us for help. Of course, nobody in that idiotic gang can come up with a good plan, although I'll give you props for this seemingly ok one. Now, Y/N, turn around and cover your ears."

Lisa points her gun directly at the woman's forehead before twisting her head to look at you. At the blatant fear paralyzing your body, she softens her tone, eyes sinking back into the pools of love that they used to be, betrayal fading away. "Baby, please. Trust me."

You stay looking for a moment longer at her, and how the woman's eyes flit back and forth between the two of you before widening at the realization of who you are. You turn then, missing the desperate turn she makes in an attempt to salvage any possibility of staying alive that she had.

Had Lisa captured her for just attacking a plaything, she would stay alive to be interrogated, and she would find a chance to escape. But she had seen that look before, the one Lisa had given you, on other very powerful mafia leaders. You were the reason she would die today because Lisa would never let anyone hurt you.

You turn around, eyes shut closed tightly and hands clamping down over your ears. The bang of the gun is still loud like you don't even have your hands over your ears, and you flinch, shoulders curling in. The second bang takes you further by surprise and a gasp leaves your lips, but then the shots continue. You lose count after ten. But somewhere around there your gasps turn into small screams. A much louder scream leaves you when arms are wrapped around you, or it may be because you know exactly whose arms they are, and it can't be the lady who broke into your home.

You flinch forward, attempting to get away from the arms but Lisa walks in front of you so that she can instead hold you against her, your most touching her collarbone so she feels your shaking breaths.

"Please don't." You plead with her without recognizing, the words spilling like blood from the wounds on the woman behind you. "Please don't hurt me. I'll be so good, I promise."

"Shh hey," Lisa shushes you quickly, pulling back slightly to look you over, her eyes only showing love and concern now that she understood. "You are good, you've always been good. I'm so sorry I scared you, baby. I never wanted that to happen. Let's just go inside, your cuts must be hurting."

You nod and go to turn around but she pulls you back. Murming a soft 'Close your eyes' she picks you up bridal style. After some steps and shifting, the front door to the apartment closes behind the both of you. You risk opening your eyes and are met with the bloody footprints your lover leaves.

You close your eyes again.

『••✎••』

#blackpink yandere #yandere blackpink #blackpink jennie #blackpink rosè #blackpink jisoo #blackpink lisa #yandere jisoo #yandere rosé #yandere jennie #yandere lisa #yandere reactions

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brooooswriting · 8 months

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Could do a tara carpenter x fem reader

the core 4 finds a lost dog near Tara and Sam’s place

*Everyone but Mindy is against the idea keeping the dog because this dog is massive and it’s a mastiff breed*

They put found dogs flyers and post it on social media see if this dog belong to anyone and are just waiting to see if they the owner comes and are taking care of the dog

*Poor tara who drew the short straw and she has the task of walking the dog and got dragged all across the park*

Mindy who witness the whole thing recorded the whole thing

*you could hear her laughter in video and tara yelling “don’t just stand there🤬!!!! HELP-“ before falling into the lake*

Everyone was about to ask what happen seeing her completely drench and leaves in her hair but she like “😤😑 don’t ask” while Mindy was in the floor dying of laughter and show them the video

But for some reason this dog is strangely attach to Tara and choosing to stay by her side. In a cute moment imagine tara having a nightmare then the dog trying to show comfort to her. And she sleep hugging his head🥺. They all start warming up to the dog*

That until a girl appears with a flyer and is like “hi I believe you found my dog” and tara is flustered at seeing this girl

Fast forward when Ghostface show up ay tara and Sam apartment *it backfires because they werent expecting a dog nor r to be there. R just look at her dog “sic them boy” 👹😈

so in a way, everyone who isn’t ghostface survives. Anika deserve to live damn it!!!!Everyone looking at the dog and praising him because he’s a good boy 🐶

In my head I can imagine Quinn calling Ethan “😨😨😨abort mission!!!!! I repeat abort mission!!!!!!”

*Because their dad got badly mauled by the dog and they don’t want to risk getting caught without a plan but yk dogs are a great judge of character and can sense a bad person and he never like Ethan, Quinn or her dad, always snarling and nipping at them*

R would even question if Quinn was truly dead because her dog kept growling at her when they put her in a body bag. Like how the hell didn’t you notice ghostface in your room? She would trust her dogs more than people. They have a closer bond with r

In my mind I was thinking “it’s bad enough/embarrassing that ghostface getting beaten/outsmarted by the main protagonists, imagine them being defeated by a dog” and this was inspired by the Spider-Man miles morales game. In the game there a side quest and if you complete it you can fight crime with a cat as a sidekick and the bad guy getting his ass handle by Spider-Man then you see a cat come out of his backpack. Imagine that same guy in jail and everyone asking how you got beaten by Spider-Man and question you why you have claw marks on your face 👀👀

That’s my dog

Tara carpenter x reader

*disclaimer: changed storyline*

Word count: a lot

“Naww, look at him. He’s so cute” Mindy yelled as she saw a dog sitting in front of Sams and Tara’s apartment. The dogs ears perked as soon as he heard the voice talking to him, looking at the group of four.

“That dog is giant” Chad said taking a small step back causing Tara to laugh. Sam kept quiet for a moment while Mindy decided to walk up to the dog, much to the groups dismay. There were several calls for her to stop but she obviously didn’t.

“Look guys, he’s somebodies. He has a collar but the tag is broken. We should take him in” she said as she crouched down in front of the dog to be eye level with him.

“Mindy, no. Who knows what he’s capable of and if somebody owns him they can’t find him in our apartment” Sam argued while Tara made her way to look around the corner, trying to see if there was somebody looking for a dog. The moment Tara walked past the corner forward the corner tho dog stood up and followed her. A relieved sigh left Chad and Sam as they thought that he was going to leave. But instead, he stood behind Tara, scaring the poor girl when she turned around.

“Sam, there’s a storm tonight. We can’t leave him outside! Come on have a heart” Mindy argued as she watched the dog look up at Tara. There was a moment of silence before Sam nodded, a small one but a nod nonetheless. A squeal left Mindy as she clapped and called the dog over who happily strutted next to her, following her upstairs into the apartment. “Ok, maybe he’s a bit big for the apartment but you know” Mindy grinned sheepishly as the dog accidentally threw down some books.

“Mindy, Tara, you guys upload some pics online, on social media, maybe somebody recognizes him while Chad and I print out some flyers and hang them up around here. Make sure he doesn’t destroy anything” Sam ordered after taking some pictures of the dog, including his collar and the half of the tag that was still attached. Uploading pictures takes way less time then printing flyers and hanging them up, so Mindy and Tara were on dog duty. Which, to be honest, wasn’t as hard as they thought it’d be, the dog was well trained and nice.

Around evening he started to scratch on the front door, whining while doing so. After a bit of a discussion the group decided that the dog had to go outside and that whoever drew the shortest stick would have to take him.

“Come on guys, this is Ridiculous. Mindy wanted us to take him in, so she should have to go with him!” Tara complained after it turned out that she lost. The dog was massive and while he looked nice and seemed to be friendly she was sure that he wouldn’t even feel her holding the leash.

“You lost Tara, fair and square. But due to the fact that I’m the nicest person ever, I will come down with you” the brunette explained, a proud smile on her face as she opened the door for Tara. The first few minutes were fine, the dog immediately sniffed the side of the building to pee. “Let’s go to the park a bit” Mindy said and took off.

It took one second of Tara being distracted for the dog to see something an start running towards it growling. Even when Tara tried to pull him back with her whole body weight it was useless, he pulled her along. She was stumbling over her own legs, screaming at the dog and Mindy to do anything. But Mindy was only laughing and, unknown to Tara, filming the whole thing.

“HEY!HEY NOOO” the small brunette screamed when she saw a small pond in front of her, small enough for the dog to jump over it but for her? It took one last step for her to land face forward in the water, letting go of the belt they used as a leash when she touched the ground underneath the water. She could still hear Mindy wheezing and the dog barking as she stood up, water dripping from everywhere. The moment she stood the dog was back at her side nuzzling his head into her wet hand.

“You’re an idiot, we Are going back Home” she scolded the dog as she picked up the “leash” again pulling him past her friend, glaring at her. “And you, you’re the worst” she growled as she walked past her, hitting her shoulder and walking back to the apartment.

Even Sam and Chad couldn’t hide their laughter when they saw a completely dripping Tara walk into the room, unclipping the belt and walking towards her bathroom. Even without the leash the dog quickly followed Tara, never leaving her sight. Save to say that Tara wasn’t really in the mood to socialize anymore and it was rather late anyway, so she decided to settle on the bed with a book. She was silently enjoying her book when suddenly the other half of her bed dipped down, the dog climbing on top, taking up so much space that she nearly fell of the edge.

“Bro, I think you’ve got something twisted. Get off the bed” she scolded him lightly pointing at the ground. The dog just happily panted when she tried to push him off, barely scootching away. There was no point in trying to pick him up so she decided to settle on the small part of the bed that he hasn’t conquered yet, turning off the lights to sleep.

His panting annoyed her, he smelled like dog and he was constantly watching her which made it hard for her to fall asleep but at one point the tiredness of the day did get her and she fell asleep facing the dog.

The next day when she woke up the dog was in front of her, curled up leaning on her stomach. He was still sleeping until she moved to get out of bed, he was immediately following her. Everything was fine until Quinn came to close to Tara making him fletch his teeth and bark causing the redhead to jump away and Tara to pull him away.

There was a bit of silence but in the end everybody decided that it was probably just a coincidence and kept doing whatever they were doing. Anika had brought over some food, a leash and some toys as they didn’t know how long the dog would stay.

It was afternoon when everybody, except Quinn and Ethan had warmed up to the dog, they called him Freddy after Freddy Krueger, which was Mindys idea. The group was sitting on the couch watching TV, Freddy sat on Tara’s feet with his head on sams leg who scratched his head. It was nice, Sam and Tara walked the last round with him at night, he stopped pulling the leash and didn’t even move away from the two.

At night time he slept with Tara again but this time he decided to settle in front of the bed. The brunette fell asleep with one of her arms out of the bed to scratch the giant dog. Sometime during the night she started to turn and twist, a whimper leaving her mouth making Freddy wake up. He quickly climbed onto the bed with his first two feet and nudged her until she woke up. Tears were streaming down her face and her breathing was quick and shallow. While she tried to calm herself down Freddy laid his head onto her stomach, licking her hand closest to him, trying his best to comfort her. A small smile came onto her lips as she rolled onto her side and hugged his head, leaving a kiss on top as she fell back asleep.

The next morning she woke up to somebody hammering on her front door. “T, wake up. Somebody is coming for the dog” Sam called out, knocking one last time before she heard Tara grumble. The moment she stepped out of her room, finally dressed and ready for the day, there was a knock on the door. Freddy immediately ran to the door, his tail waggling from left to right as if he knew who was on the other side.

“Hi, I believe you found my dog” you said as soon as the door opened. The mastiff quickly running to you, nearly throwing you over when he body checked you, making you giggle. Tara just stared at you for a moment, her cheeks coated in a light blush before she looked down at her feet to hide it.

“uhm, yeah. We found him two days ago, he sat in front of our apartment and due to the storm we didn’t wanna leave him outside” she explained, smiling at the sight in front of her before taking a deep breath. “Do you wanna come inside for a bit?” She asked, already taking a step further away so you could see into the apartment.

You gave her a nod and made your way into the apartment. “Come on Dook” you called out to the dog who was still standing on the other side of the door. He quickly made his way towards you.

“Dook?” Tara asked as you settled down on the couch, the dog between you two. You chuckled lightly as you petted his head before turning to her.

“Well, yeah. The Babadook is my favorite horror film but I didn’t wanna call him Babadook, that would have freaked me out on the long run so I decided to call him Dook. It’s weird I know” you mumbled the last part as you uncomfortably scratched the back of your neck but the pretty girl next to you only chuckled before turning further to you.

“No, it’s actually pretty awesome. The Babadook is such a great movie and the name Dook is pretty cute actually” Tara said smiling at you.

“Yo, I’m Mindy and that’s my twin brother Chad” the brunette introduced, waving at you.

“Hey, I’m y/n and this is Dook but you’ve already met him huh” you grinned as you waved back.

“How did he get lost anyway?” Sam, who you’ve already met, asked as she sat on an armchair next to the couch.

“My stupid brother was supposed to look after him while I was out of state but he lost him 5 hours after I’ve been gone and didn’t tell me” you explained, an annoyed look on your face. They giggled at your eye roll before taking off.

After a small while you’ve decided to go too, much work to do just like emptying your suitcase from your trip. “It was really nice to meet you, you are a great person. And thanks again for looking after Dook” you bid as a goodbye, a smile grazing your features as you looked at Tara.

“Well, If you ever wanna come over and watch the Babadook together, I wouldn’t say no” she smiled at you and took your hand in hers, writing her number on your hand.

“Naww, Tara is in loooovvveeee” Mindy sang from the kitchen.

Ever since then you and Tara have been inseparable. Everywhere the core four was you were too, even at that frat party and the dinner later. Sam trusted you and Dook, Mindy and Chad thought you were pretty cool, Anika loved your style and taste, Ethan didn’t like you because he was scared of the dog and Quinn was constantly flirting with you.

“I knew you were sleeping with cute boy” Tara laughed out, leaning on your shoulder. A giggle leaving you too as you watched the group, Dook laying on your and Tara’s feet. Just as Sam was about to say something all your phones dinged, Dook suddenly jumping up.

“Shit” Sam cursed out, all of you jumping up. It wasn’t long ago that the siblings told you about what had happened to them in their hometown. Everybody, except Tara ran to get further away from the door, so you quickly grabbed her and pulled her to you. Dook standing in front of you barking and snarling at the door.

“Get out of here” you screamed at them, trying to push them away but before anyone could move the door opened and a dead Quinn fell on top of Anika throwing her to the ground. Dook, just as he was trained, stood beside you, barking at the intruder but not moving. You were frozen for a moment, overwhelmed with the situation until you heard Anika groan and Tara call your name. “Dook, sic them boy” you looked down at the dog who immediately took off attacking the costumed person who was currently trying to Stab Anika. The 32” tall dog jumped against him throwing him off of her, Sam immediately pulling her away and pushing her into Mindys arms.

By now Dook had pushed the intruder into the corner furthers away, Chad and Tara were gone while Sam and Mindy helped Anika into the bedroom, where Danny was waiting for them with a ladder. You knew that you had to fight him off until the police showed up because you wouldn’t take the ladder and leave dook behind.

You were slowly backing up into the bedroom, “Dook, attack”. The moment the words left your mouth he didn’t just bark anymore but was about to charge at him full speed, making the ghostface run outside forward the police sirens. So you called him back to you, deciding to not put him into further danger. You sat on the ground with him, petting his head and kissing the top of his head as you praised him, thankful that nothing had happened to him.

“Are you alright?” You quickly asked Tara when you came outside, the dog running to her and licking her hand.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m sorry I left you up there, I-I” she started to stutter, her eyes becoming glossy as she looked around. You decided to interrupt her.

“Hey, it’s alright. I told you to go, after all I had Dook. It’s okay, we’ll get thru this. We are here for you” you told her as you hugged her, her head resting on your chest, tears leaking through your shirt making your heart break. An elder man came into sight making Tara pull away and excuse herself, Dook snarling at him. “Dook, psst” you scolded and made him come along as you went to talk to Sam.

“Sam, can we talk for a second?” You asked, pulling her away from Danny. It’s not that you didn’t like him or didn’t trust him but you didn’t wanna Worry anybody if not necessary. “I think it has to be someone we know, someone I know too” Sam thought for a moment being totally quiet.

“What are you on about y/n?” She asked slightly annoyed and scared, making you sigh.

“Dook was quiet the whole time, if somebody came in or had already been inside he would have barked or something but he didn’t. Which means he knew whoever was inside“ the explanation made sense and it made sams stomach hurt too. She had prayed that this wasn’t going to happen again, that her sister could now lead a normal life.

“I hate the fact that what you just said made sense” she groaned, looking around to check her environment. You just gave her a tight lipped smile and a pat on the arm. It was hard to comfort Sam, at least as a human, because as soon as Dook stood in front of her nudging her hand she knelt down and patted him, thanking him for Saving them.

You left the mastiff with Sam as you made your way to Tara, Mindy, Anika and Chad. The boy stood infront of his sister, eyes sad as he watched her taped arm. The girls other arm was wrapped around her girlfriend who was also patched up, a lot more than Mindy. You wished you could go up to that like Tara, the weird tension between you two kills you and the fact that there seemed to be some kind of tension with Chad too made it even weirder. So instead of standing between them you settled down between Anika’s legs, she had become a great friend of yours, maybe even your best. You guys were extremely comfortable with each other and could tell the other everything, she knew of your feelings for Tara and you knew of her fear of abandonment. When you settled down, Anika rested her arms on top of your shoulders, keeping you close trying to give both of you some comfort.

Just as you settled down, Ethan came around the corner confused about what had happened. “You” Chad screamed taking by the collar and throwing him against another ambulance. “Where the fuck were you? You’re not with us and suddenly my sister almost dies” he screamed, lifting him away from the car just to push him against it again.

“Chad, I had Econ, you know that. You can ask all the other students” the boy pleaded, kinda stuttering. But he didn’t struggle against chads hold, not that it’d do anything anyway. You decided to step in, not because you were a hundred percent convinced that Ethan was innocent but because this wouldn’t lead to anything.

“Come on, let him go. Econ would be a stupid excuse to use, he wouldn’t be able to get everybody to lie for him so let him go Chad” you explained, laying a hand on his shoulder to kind of push him back a bit. He didn’t immediately let him go but when you squeezed his shoulder he folded and let the boy down, disappearing to his sister. The moment you stepped closer to the boy Dook was at your side, snarling at him almost making you chuckle at the way the boy backed up. “I hope you learned a lot at Econ”.

*later that night*

“How didn’t you even kill one fucking person?” Wayne screamed at his kids, the vein on his forehead popping out. He kept walking back and forth as he scolded them.

“How was I supposed to know that y/n and the dog would be there? That thing would have killed me if I would have stepped closer” Ethan whined, holding his arm where Dook had bitten him. He had always been afraid of that monster.

“Ethan is right dad, that dog is massive and dangerous” Quinn said trying to support her brother. Her hair wet from the shower to get rid of all the fake blood she was covered in.

“Well we need a new plan” he mumbled.

———————————————————————————

“Y/n, Anika, this is Gale and this is Kirby” Sam introduced you. Kirby was closest to you so you shook her hand first before going to Gale but stopping shortly before your hands touch.

“Uff, that’s one hell of a bruise, what did ya do?” You asked pointing to her left side under the eye. You couldn’t help but be suspicious of somebody you didn’t know. Especially with the way Dook stood in front of you instead of how he normally stood next to you.

She sighed and looked at Tara before speaking up. “Tara hit me because I did something I told them I wouldn’t do” she explained making your mouth open in shock. You turned to Tara with your mouth still open.

“You did that?” You asked her still shocked with your eyebrows raised. She timidly nodded at you making you grin and raise your hand for a high five before wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her into you. “Damn girl, nicely done” you told her, clearly proud of the fact that she was protecting herself.

Seeing that made Sam smile too, her head slightly turned to the side as she watched you two. Her sister was happily giggling into your chest, her cheeks slightly red and her eyes lit up while you grinned down at her, your eyes were full with love and admiration. As a bigger sister, she was happy that you could protect her and loved the fact that she could protect herself.

When everybody started to follow Gale to whatever she wanted to show you, you fell behind due to the fact that Dook was still a dog, wanting to mark like every corner. As soon as Tara noticed she left Chad and fell behind too, walking with you in silence. Everybody was already going inside when you two rounded the corner. “You alright?” You asked her as she stood in front of the door, suddenly not moving anymore.

“Yeah, I’m just, I don’t know” she mumbled out looking at her feet as her hands messed with the fabric of her shirt. She looked even smaller than normal.

“It’s going to be okay, I’m here for you” you told her with a comforting smile before you gave her a nod as a start sign. Just as you were about to go inside a hand slid down your arm into the pocket of your trouser where it found yours making you tense for a second. You pulled both of your hands out of the pocket and intertwined them before carefully pulling her along. The place was full of old ghost face things, masks, robes, a TV and more. Tara suddenly stopped at one Vitrine, her mood dropping before her hand suddenly let go of yours.

“I-I need a second” she mumbled and walked off towards Sam. You heard them fight before Tara stormed off, alone. “Dookie, follow Tara. Go” you told the dog who ran off to follow her making you smile a bit. You felt more comfortable when somebody was there to protect her and when you saw a Kirby follow her too you decided to keep roaming the place, finding Mindy and Anika.

After some time and some explanation from Mindy, Kirby found you. “You should go to Tara” she told you with a tight lipped smile. You were about to go when she spoke up again, “very cute dog by the way” you grinned at her before walking off to find Tara.

The moment you turned the corner she was on you, her arms wrapped around your neck as she stood on her tippy toes and pressed her lips against yours. You needed a second and even though you wanted to kiss her back with every bit you carefully pushed her away. She immediately started to stutter when her lips detached from yours. “I’m sorry, it’s just- this is a hard time for you and I don’t want you to regret anything” you told her as your hands caressed her waist in a comforting manner.

She smiled at you, her hands playing with the baby hair at the back of your neck. “I won’t. Come on, I still gotta tell you something” her hand slipped in yours as she pulled you to sit down on a step and then she told you about Amber. About how they were always flirting and how there was this tension that was between you too, and how she then killed her friends and how she sometimes thinks that if she had made a move Amber maybe wouldn’t have went crazy and that she wouldn’t have lost her best friend. She didn’t wanna make the same mistake again and she didn’t wanna lose somebody because she was scared of living. “Kirby opened my eyes. Just because Amber was crazy doesn’t mean you are crazy too right? We can live a happy life together and love each other even though the thing with Amber fucked me up right?” Her eyes were teary which made your heart break.

“We will live the happiest lives ever, after we caught that motherfucker” you said making her giggle. You stood up and pulled her with you to go with the others but not before kissing her. Your heart exploding at the feeling of her lips on yours, only to be interrupted by Dook who seemed to be jealous as he went between you two. Both of you laughed before going back to the group, hand in hand with Dook in front of you. Sam looked at your hands before glaring at you, hiding her small smile.

“So what to we have on these people?” Kirby asked looking into the group, eyes fixated on Sam.

“Y/n had a point. Dook didn’t bark which means we knew whoever was inside” you gave everybody a tight lipped smile before deciding to add something.

“I have a really stupid thing, or maybe it isn’t stupid, I don’t know. But Dook constantly barked at the body bag which made me suspicious. He wouldn’t just bark at a dead person and I mean, there wasn’t even a scream, who doesn’t notice ghost face in your room?” You rambled on until Chad decided to interrupt you.

“So you guess what? That Quinn is still alive and a part of the whole thing?” He chuckled slightly clearly not believing you. You rolled your eyes looking at Tara for help.

“Well, I mean that does sound very unrealistic. I’m sorry but how would that even work?” She was apologetic about not being on your side, Ethan who you hadn’t noticed until now nodding along with what she said. You rolled your eyes again looking at Kirby who just shrugged.

“Whatever. Do we have any other thoughts, ideas?” You asked a tad annoyed, parting from Tara to follow Dook around.

“I think we should do the tracking the call thing” one of them suggested, a discussion immediately breaking loose. You just watched your dog sniff around, focusing on one of the masks that seemed to have fallen down hoping that he’d pick up on something.

The next time ghostface attacked was when they did the call thing but there was nothing you could do, he was too far gone. Gale barely surviving. It hurt Tara a lot, she was clinging to you like a koala, whispering how sorry she was that you were in this, that she’d never forgive herself if you got hurt. You just pressed her head into you in a comforting manner, rubbing her back and letting her cry.

You were also heavily against the idea of them playing bait but here you were in the weird ass old cinema kinda thing. “So y/n, I got a K9 kennel for Dook” Kirby told you which was a great thing even though it sounded weird. But you were scared that they’d do something to him and with a K9 kennel you could get him when you needed him but they wouldn’t get inside to hurt him in case they found him.

“Thank you so much, I’ll put him in and then come back” you told them petting your leg for him to follow, Tara quickly walking up next to you to follow you. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder as you walked to the hidden place.

“I feel sorry putting him in that thing, he’s always such a good boy” the smaller brunette mumbled as she crouched down to cuddle him, wrapping her arms around his head. Your heart was exploding from the cuteness of the scene no matter how shitty the actual situation was.

“I know me too. But at least we know that he’s gonna be safe isn’t that right love?” You said pointing at the kennel making him go inside and sit down. “Good boy, I love you and I’ll get you soon” you smiled at Tara before taking her hand and walking around the building.

“If something happens tonight, I want to thank you for finding dook and taking care of him and taking me in and showing me how it feels to really be with someone” you told her as you pulled her closer to kiss her.

Suddenly someone appeared behind her trying to stab her making you push her out of the way. You punched their face before grabbing her and running towards the main room, running past a stabbed Chad. “Shit Chad” Tara screamed and stopped running to bend down to him.

“T, we cant Save him if we die ourselves. Let’s go, we need to find Sam and figure out where Mindy is” the mentioning of Sam did it for her making her stand up and keep running for you. In this moment you were happy that Anika was too hurt to come along, one person less to be scared about. When you stopped in the main hall Sam stood there completely shocked and out of breath.

“Oh god, there you are I was looking for you. Wayne called me, he told me that Kirby went crazy and got fired. He believes that she’s ghostface” she explained ushering the two of you closer to her. “Mindy got stabbed on the way here, in the subway. I-I don’t know where Chad is” she added making Tara flinch at the mentioning of her friend.

“He got stabbed, we left him we couldn’t do anything. It’s better if they think he’s dead” you told her.

The next things were too quick for you to comprehend. Kirby appeared and was suddenly knocked out by someone in a ghost face costume, and then another one appearing. Turned out they were Wayne and Ethan, father and son. And then, a third one appeared. A scared ‘Mindy?’ Leaving Sams mouth, tears welling up in Tara’s and you were tensing. But then the mask was pulled of and revealed Quinn making you jump and fist bump the air.

“I fucking told you. I told you she wasn’t fucking dead motherfuker” you then quickly turned quiet again, realizing that this wasn’t the right moment. And then Wayne started talking about something with their past and weird ass stuff, you kinda zoned out trying to find a way out while protecting Tara. At least until you hear a certain name.

“And then there was Dook, he was rather easy to take care of after you put him in a kennel where he couldn’t do anything to us” Wayne said, Ethan and Quinn giggling making you even madder. They started to circle the three of you, Tara and Sam grabbing a stone. Sam quickly turned around signaling you to run and look for your dog once there was an opportunity and you did. They distracted them long enough for you to run off to where dook was hidden, constantly clicking the button that was supposed to release him but nothing. He was nowhere to be seen making you panic.

When you arrived at the kennel he was laying on his side, eyes closed and the kennel still closed. You pried the door open, once you got it open you crawled inside, tears already spreading in your eyes. “Dook?” You mumbled just for him to open his eyes and stand up, licking you across the face. “Not cool dude, i thought you were dead” and then your eyes fell to some kind of dog treat that you didn’t put there. Picking it up to smell it you quickly figured out that there was something wrong with it. “You’re such a smart boy” you cuddled him for a moment before remembering why you were even here.

When you came back to the siblings Sam was upstairs, holding Tara who was hanging over the upper part of the theater, Ethan under her fumbling around with a knife. “I’ve always wanted to stick something in you Tara” he said making you gag and more aggressive than you already were.

You saw Quinn and Wayne coming for Sam upstairs, “Dook, go protect Sam” you told the dog and got yourself ready to tackle Ethan just in case Tara needed the help.

“Sam, you have to let me go” Tara’s voice was desperate making Sam sigh and do let go of her, she fell and landed in his arms. She grinned as she stuck the knife into his throat pulling it down and god she looked good. She landed on her feet when he fell over and made her way towards your open arms.

Upstairs Sam shot Quinn in the head and then tried to shoot Wayne just for the gun to be empty. In that moment Dook jumped on his back knocking him to the ground, giving Sam the opportunity to kick him in the face and knocking him out. She came back down with the dog next to her. “I have a plan” she told you and quickly explained what you were supposed to do while scratching Dooks back, Tara scratching his head.

You were just a back up and a protection in sams plan, so you stood behind Tara with Dook, feeding him some treats. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” She said into the phone, holding the voice changer in front of it, a grin spreading across your face. She kept talking for a bit until you heard a scream through the phone which was when she hung up. “God, I just wanna go home” she mumbled as she leaned against you waiting for Sam to get you two.

Sam and Tara sat on the steps while you stood a bit further away to give them their privacy. They talked while you sat on the ground with Dook in your lap, zooming out until Sam called out for you. “If you hurt her I’ll hurt you. Even worse than I hurt Wayne” you gave her an upside down smile, and an awkward okay before Tara came running towards you making Dook and you jump up. She jumped into your arms and kissed you making you twirl her around.

That night you laid in Tara’s bed, cuddled up with Dook next to your legs. You wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her even deeper into you. “Thank you for everything y/n, you’ve been here for us. You and Dook, you’ve been protecting us as if we are your family. I’ve always wanted somebody like you” she mumbled into your chest making you smile.

“Dook and I will never let anyone hurt you or your family. Tomorrow we will pick up Mindy and Anika and then we will visit Chad, Gale and Kirby. Now, stop talking so we can watch the movie” you grinned as you pressed play on the Babadook before pressing soft kisses on her lips.

It may have been to early to say I love you but god, you loved that woman more than anything. You loved her just as much as you loved Dook.

So this is like the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m not sure I like it. But I took forever to write and I hope you guys enjoy it.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you

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