#I mean. I feel like there's always the chance of there being a sequel to mha? and that character either being the next main villain or the

[aromanticannibal]

btw i have a new crack theory for mystery character now that there's only 3 chapters left: their identity is never going to be important. we're just going to see a civilian almost ignore them with the excuse of "a hero will come" and then remember something that either deku or another important character will say on TV or something and help them out, therefore avoiding the creation of another shigaraki tomura (as was said in 427). The fact that the character appears around when Todoroki talks about how this is the same time during which All For One thrived/appeared feels important to me.

I don't think there's enough time left to introduce a new character or to justify it being Tomura or Tenko. If it isn't that (my crack theory), I think there's a good chance that Horikoshi was either forced/told/encouraged to finish the manga earlier or himself decided against making it as long as he wanted when 425 came out, because it's way too ambitious to introduce a new character or to make it so a character isn't actually dead (when that would need to be thoroughly explained) five chapters from the end.

[echantedtoon]

RUN AWAY BUT I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

This is a sorta sequel to my Yandere Demons And Brides posts. Basically just headcannons of the demons of Y/n managed to escape.

Warnings for yandere themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, panic attacks, Hairou shooting himself, entrapment, mentioned wounds and scars, regular demon Slayer content, Douma/Karaku/Enmu IS his own warning, possibly some innuendos, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume/Zohakutan in the line up as part of Gyutaro/Hantengu's part but she/he will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her/him and reader!! And her parts will be minor. Nakime is short and like last post I left her Yn GN while the others I wrote as female Yn.

Buckle up guys. This is gonna be a BIG post with all the demons from the last two posts. Especially Hantengu's part.

KOKUSHIBO:

-How you managed to escape him? Who knows? He's Upper Moon One and that's nearly an impossible feat.

-After reclaiming you as his wife, he expects you to take your place as a dutiful wife should. Which is why he's very disappointed when you're just acting scared and always refusing his advances instead of greeting him like a good wife should be!

-He's only allowed to have you because Muzan allows him too for being so loyal and efficient. But that means he can't pause his duties less his master changes his mind. So maybe that's why you were able to find an opening to escape the house he trapped you in. The one he expected you to clean for him and come to take care of for your lives together now.

-He's not shocked by your want to escape him but he is certainly surprised when he discovers the desperation you had smashed a boarded window open he had made sure to tightly close off. The wedding ring he always forced you to wear around him discarded on the floor amongst the broken glass and boards of wood. He didn't think you were strong enough to get it open.

-He has a mixed reaction. He's disappointed that you managed to leave, frustrated too and annoyed, surprised as said you were able to get out, but mostly disappointed. He's not angry. He's got very good control of his anger, if anything he's just disappointed that you would rather try to escape. Deep down he's very upset with himself, a Deep sting of rejection like all those years ago stinging him.

-Its doesn't matter however. He's patient. And it's not like you'll be able to outrun him for long.

DOUMA:

-Remember how I said that you're best chance to get away from him is when he's still confused about his feelings in the last post? If you choose to escape then, then he won't bother. Not at first at least. He'd still be too confused about everything and not know what was going on to go after you until he finally realizes it or someone explains it to him. By then you might hide well enough to never see him again.

-However if you managed to escape after- Bravo! Somehow you managed to bypass Douma and his cult. Only one piece of advice to give you-

-RUN! Run as FAST and as FAR AWAY as you can! Because a Douma with emotions is actually emotionally and mentally unstable.

-When you aren't there and no one can tell him where you are, he feels scared and panicked like never before. He's almost hyperventilating as he tears apart the compound desperately calling your name ordering his cult to search the compound and comb through the nearby forest and mountainside for any signs of you to no avail.

-When he realizes that you left him he goes through a rage he's never felt before. It's so overwhelming that he kills(absorbs) any and all cult members he thinks even remotely causes you to get away. A bloody scene that for once might make Muzan pleased with his existence. He doesn't stop there he tears apart his room to satisfy his anger throwing and smashing anything he can get his hands on and leaving claw marks all over the walls.

-After he eventually comes down from his rage, he feels numb for a while before he starts crying. He's sobbing uncontrollably and curled up in your bed hugging your pillow to him. A wave of sadness and betrayal stabbing him in the heart over and over.

-Why did you leave him?! Did you not feel loved enough?! Did he not give into every whim you wanted?! He stays there unable to control himself or answer his questions until nighttime. Hope you have a good head start because as soon as sunset hits, he's coming after you and this time you wont ever leave him again.

AKAZA:

-To be fair he'd probably be the easiest demon to escape from outta all the upper moons. It's still NOT easy to do so but because Akaza doesn't harm women let alone the one he's in love with, he'll not do anything to actually harm you other than keep you isolated and trapped in one spot because he's afraid anyone would harm you if he let you wonder around.

-He allows you to go outside (only at night and with him so he can watch you-) since he knows being cooped up can't be good for your health. This might be your only chance.

-Someone might not see being cared for is a bad thing but Akaza seems to almost infantize you. You won't be able to do anything yourself. Want to cook? He'll do it! You can burn yourself! Want to go for a walk? He'll agree with him but halfway through he's seeing you limp with your bad leg and just call it quits before just carrying you all the way home. Want to bathe? Ok but he's waiting for you right outside in case you slip and hit your head! He doesn't allow you to do anything yourself and if he does, he's right there or just outside the door in wait.

-You're best chance of escape is just crawling through a window during the day and legging it as far as you can. If you do do this, expect him to have the biggest panic attack in his life when he sees the open window. Hyperventilating as he pictures the most horrible worst case scenarios of you running into a bear or rogue demon without him there to protect you. Or worse- WHAT IF YOU ENCOUNTER DOUMA?!

-Hope you know a good hiding place because once he catches you, you're never being left alone again.

NAKIME:

-You literally couldn't escape her with her teleportation powers but let's say you did for the sake of this post. Sneaking out by diving through an open doorway she opened for another demon or Muzan.

-Its was a surprise really you made it out. Like Kokushibo she's very good at controlling her anger and wouldn't really be anger even. She's just disappointed and a bit annoyed her Husband/Wife(whichever you wanna go by with the lady demons like last post) would still insist on being childish and trying to run away again.

-She'll be impressed you made it as far as you did but be weary of sudden doors whisking you back home to an annoyed demon 'wife' again.

GYUTARO (+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

-You could've simply gotten away if you had boarded the train with your soon-to-be husband and never saw either demon again as they never left the Red Light District.

-Good luck escaping Daki's belt and the underground home they keep you in. You're too scared to fight back so you remain casual and polite out of fear (and to try and think of a way to escape).

-It won't be easy. They take turns in rotation. Daki loves dressing you up and chatting with her like always like nothing changed. Gyutaro will hold you to himself and feel relieved just having your warmth against him. If they aren't around then Daki has her talking belt minion guard you or she puts you in a belt for a while. It's rare for all three of them to be busy at once but it has happened more than one time. They don't think you can escape the hole in the ground anyways.

-Well you do. One day while they were all busy. Clawing your way through one of those thin tunnels until you reach the surface freed. You're alive. Dirty, a little thin, and scared out of your mind. But alive and free for now. You better get out of the E District because of you do stick around they'll catch you sooner or later.

-Both have a similar reaction when they come home and discovered you gone. Daki throws a massive half tantrum half crying fit. She tears her talking belt minion to shreds blaming it for your escape. It's ok. She'll make a better one later when she calms down but right now she'll cry and throw a fit while demanding her hyperventilating brother fix this as he usually does.

-Gyutaro has a similar reaction to a emotional Douma. He'll tear apart your underground home, and when he can't find you he'll fall into a hyperventilating mess of emotions. He's absolutely pissed off. That's his default emotion after all so it's his first reaction but he'll start falling into a mess of tears and crying as realization jabs into him. He knew he was ugly. He's so ugly even a practically blind girl would eventually run away from him. He's a blubbering crying mess like his sister for a while until both are calmed down enough to think with clear heads.

-Hope you were able to make it to that train because you don't have just one but TWO demons coming after you.

GYOKKO:

-Possibly the second easiest one to escape from. All ya have to do is yeet his pot off a cliff side or something but the problem is he'll quickly teleport back to you angry in another pot.

-Your best bet is to use flattery and his own ego against him and to your advantage. Tell him how honored you were to receive such beautiful pots from him. Listen to him sing his own praises. His guard will lower as you both talk to each other about his pots, art techniques you both use, and anything else involving art or himself in some way. Honestly if he wasn't a demon and kidnapped you, you probably wouldn't have minded the conversations.

-Play along as his little mise. Holding still as he carved your likeness into a vase or allow him to watch as you shakily work a needle and thread too closely. Eventually his guard will be down enough for you to escape.

-While he's not sun proof his pots are. While he's gone, turn the pot he uses to get inside your home upside down and place the heaviest object you can on it to help delay his entrance as you run into the daylight.

-Oh he'll be furious and throw a fit about you leaving and how you treated his precious vase, but he's more preoccupied by the fact that his precious muse has vanished into the wind. Luckily for you, he's the easiest demon to hide from. Just stay away from vases and any art studios for a long while. He's sure to be close by looking for you.

KAIGAKU:

-All I can say is good luck. While Kaigaku isn't the brightest, strongest, or emotionally adept demon he's definitely not someone you can easily trick or escape from. You can't get more than a few yards away at most before he notices you walking away from his distracted form and barks a demand for you to return to him immediately!

-Doesn't help he also keeps you in the Infinity Castle where lots of demons watch you with hunger. They only don't eat you because you're around Kaigaku's side at all times and no one wants to tussle with Upper Moon Six, especially if it was Kokushibo who brought him in. Kaigaku is smug about having you always paraded around on his arms.

-You have to use the same tactic for him as you did Gyokko. Compliment him subtly and every once and a while. Keep it casual however. Doing it too much with cause him to get suspicious and catch onto your plan. However a compliment here and there that sounds like a genuine observation will boost his ego and slowly but surely let his guard little by little down around you. To the point he leaves you in a room he marked as his own when training with Kokushibo.

-He's absolutely terribly shocked and PISSED when he discovers you gone and later learns that you had taken Nakime off guard by diving into an open doorway as she wasn't looking. Oh now he's not just pissed, he's ENRAGED!! You'd better run, run, run. Because as soon as the sun goes down a cursing black rage filled shadow is hunting you down even if it takes him all eternity.

HAIROU:

-(again couldn't find a gif of him) Outta all the lower moons Hairou would be the hardest to escape from. Not only can he teleport using shadows, but he has guns, and summoned shadow wolves on his side.

-He can get overwhelmed by his emotions and have a panic attack from the PTSD and end up shooting himself. That would be the ideal time to flea, when he's too overwhelmed by emotions to really take in his surroundings and know what's going on. You have to be quick though because he can recover pretty quickly after the gunshot.

-If you're somehow able to escape from him some other way he's having the worst panic attack of both his human and demon existence. It'll take him all night and many rounds of ammo before he's actually able to get his head together enough to really get a hand on the situation.

-You must get creative as you run however. He'll track you down using his shadow wolves like a pack stalking down a deer.

HANTENGU (+ CLONES):

-Hes actually the easiest Upper Moon to escape from. It's just a matter of timing and how you execute it is all.

-You're best bet is to use his own delusions against him and do your plan when he's by himself without any clones present to stop you. Act sweet to him. Tell him you're glad you're 'husband' is home and that you were going to run out and grab him something to make for dinner and to just make himself comfortable. He's so delusional and thinks you're just being a sweet 'wife'(nevermind you two aren't married) that he believes everything you say.

-Wont even put up a fuss as you smile casually and wave at him before walking out the door on your way to town to 'buy ingredients' only you skip right past the town and you don't walk you freaking RUN!! Run, run, run as fast and as far as you can before he realizes that you aren't coming back.

-He's so delicious that he doesn't suspect anything. In fact he takes a nap and wonders about the house for hours waiting for you when you don't show up once it's night time is when he knows somethings up. He doesn't believe you ran away however. No. To the day he died Hantengu believes his poor wife was abducted by another demon or slayer.

-Hope youre far away because he's ripping himself apart and sending his clones out to search for their poor 'wife.'

SEKIDO:

-He may not look it but he's very concerned about their 'wife.' He doesn't know what happened to you and he doesn't care. He wants you back and he wants you back NOW!!

-First thing he does is yell at Hantengu for twenty minutes about stupid he was to let you go by yourself all defenseless and weak. Next he's ripping up himself and Karaku to get the others and ordering them in the scariest most threatening tone ever to get out there and FIND YOU! Even if it was the last thing they did.

AIZETSU:

-Crying, blubbering mess. He knows you weren't happy with them but did you have to run away? Did they do something wrong? No. It must be because something awful happened to you because they weren't there. You'd never run away from them!

-Most emotional outwardly and on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time they're looking for you. Once they find you(if they do) he's holding onto you and sobbing into your dress about how sorry he is.

UROGI:

-Man is molting in anxiety. He's making panicked turkey noises while he's looking for you. He thinks it's a game at first thinking you're just playing chase but when it becomes clear you're actually GONE he's running around like a headless chicken panicking.

-The most likely to spot you from up above so be sure to stick close to trees and outta sight because if not then you'll find yourself swooped up by a freaked out harpy and flown back to the others...that is if KFC man finds you at all.

KARAKU:

-Is surprisingly the only one that's thinking clearly. He's the clone of Relaxation so he's going to be the calmest one in this situation. But he's still panicked and scared like the others desperately searching for you.

-In a moment of arguing the others blame him for you possibly running away with how he always acts towards you. He has six other clones yelling at his face making him feel very guilty and wonders if it was his fault. He promises to make it up to you and never do it again once they find you. IF they find you.

ZOHAKUTAN:

-THE most likely to find you. He comes out in a last resort when Hantengu and the five other clones are unable to find you. Forces Sekido to absorb the others and let him take over searching with his wood dragons. He can just take shelter and continue looking for you during the daytime with them too.

-Eliminates any and all obstacles in his path until he finds you and entraps you in the mouth of one of his dragons before dragging you back home to everyone's relief. Be prepared for an earful and to be under close observation for the rest of his time alive because Zohakutan will be coming out more often after this.

URAMI:

-Very resentful that Hantengu was dumb enough to let you wonder off by yourself and like Sekido he'll spend a few minutes yelling at him for it too before joining in on yelling at Kataku and going to search for you.

-Be prepared for him to be out a lot more now too to guard you and make sure you don't try anything like this again.

KYOGAI:

-Like Nakime it's going to be nearly impossible for you to escape someone that can teleport to you and shift the mansion around to keep you from escaping. You're best bet is to crawl or jump out the nearest window at the first opportunity.

-Kyogai can't go far from his mansion because that's where most of his power lies so your best chance of truly getting away from him is so flee as far from the mansion as possible. Depending on if it's night or how hurt you are from jumping out the window he might catch up to you.

-He's not the worst demon to be trapped with but his desperation for genuine connection makes him certainly very possessive and he isn't willing to let you go that easy.

ENMU:

-How did you manage to get out of the personal train car he locked you in? He's literally a part of the train and can control how much freedom you have.

-Turns out insomnia is one helluva drug.

-Enmu is not easily fooled. He will not be fooled by flattery, tricks, or challenges. And you're certainly not as strong as him. The best bet is the element of surprise. Pretend you're having one of your naps. He'll sometimes forget your body doesn't work with sleep like a regular person, so when you suddenly tackle him out of the way as soon as he opens the door, he's taken off guard. Take this chance and RUN!!

-Stay away from train stations and trains. You'll probably be able to avoid him as his main body is literally infused with a train. I'm fact stay away from train tracks and towns with stations all together. You never know if a train whistle is just Enmu around the corner.

[mikkomacko]

need a sequel to the NYE nico fic ! like maybe she tells him she’s pregnant on valentines day

Well this definitely got away from me but ask and you shall receive!

Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, breeding kink

Part two of this Next part

You can hear him pacing through the door. Maybe it would have been better to just let him wait in the bathroom but you couldn’t risk ruining your surprise. Even if it meant you had to drive Nico insane for a couple days.

Besides, he seems to play better hockey when he’s frustrated anyway, something you’ve always admired. Nico doesn’t shut down and run in the face of adversity, he pushes harder and harder, grows even more stubborn than he already is.

Which is how you ended up with a daily sex schedule on a shared doc after Nico discovered that his drunken New Years Eve romp wasn’t as successful as he thought it’d be. He was determined, and you weren’t complaining. You’d take any chance to have set pillow princess time with Captain Nico.

“Please tell me it’s been 10 minutes?” He whines through the door, and you bite back a giggle at his tone. The pregnancy test you’d just taken rests on the counter in front of you, a bright and clear positive sign on it.

Butterflies swarm in your chest, your suspicions true after the past couple days of tender breasts and raging hormones. You have to swallow a couple times to clear away any happy tears, quietly stuffing the positive test in your old box of tampons.

“Like two more minutes, Nico hold on.” You call back, deciding to hide the test in your bathroom junk drawer instead. Nico has taken up the habit of checking your tampons and pads to see if you started your period lately and the last thing you need is him ruining his present.

After tucking it away, you fish out the negative one from awhile back that you saved just for this. Steeling yourself, you force the smile on your lips into a frown.

“Nico,” you say softly, your voice cracking because you do feel bad lying to him and you feel like crying over anything and everything right now.

“Yeah?” He calls back through the door and you can practically see him pressed into it on the other side. “Come out please? I need to see you.”

You flick the lock and open the door, clutching the negative test in your fist. Nico is crowded in the door way, big brown eyes already looking at you with an unusual droopiness. He doesn’t even look for the test in your hand, just takes in the tears in your eyes and the way you’re biting your lip nervously.

“Aw baby,” he mumbles, opening his arms for you. You step into his embrace, resting your cheek against his chest and wrapping your arms around him. He squeezes you tightly, large biceps caging your body to his and his fingers tangle in your hair. He nuzzles into the top of your head, and you feel his chest rise with deep breaths as he pulls himself together.

“I’m sorry Nico,” you say, sincerely knowing he’ll think you’re apologizing for not being pregnant. But you’re more apologizing for lying to him, for disappointing him one last time.

“No,” he says firmly, and you let him wordlessly walk you towards the bed. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We’ll get it, I know we will.”

And there’s that determination. You lighten up a bit at that, realizing that maybe this didn’t hurt him as much as you thought it would. Pulling back from his embrace, you look up at him to find a wetness in his eyes that wasn’t there before and your heart falls to your stomach. Instinctively, you press your palm into your belly, wincing at the way your gut twists with guilt.

Frowning, Nico takes your wrist and pulls your hand back, placing it over his heart instead. His heart thuds against the pads of your fingers, strong and steady like him.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” you whisper, looking down at your hand. He’s in the same black shirt he wore that night at the bar. You almost smile, thinking about how sweet and excited he was about starting a family.

“Not crying,” he insists “just a little water.”

You laugh gently, meeting his gaze again to find him smiling. “That is crying, for you.” You argue and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“No, you’ll see real bawling like a baby tears from me when we get our baby.” He promises. “And I don’t want hear sorry then either.”

You simply nod, heart warming at his words. Nico’s always so positive, so ready to take on anything with you. Prepared, he’s always a step ahead. You hope that this time you’ll finally catch him lagging. He’s a hard man to surprise.

“Give me a kiss and let me take you bed.” He requests, tapping the top of your head like you’re one of his teammates that’s just scored a goal. Giggling, you stretch up to seal your lips with his, sinking into the haze that is Nico in love. You don’t even pay attention to him slipping the negative test from your hand until he’s pulling back from the kiss and hiding it behind his back.

“Fresh start,” he says, stepping around you to take it to the bathroom. He tosses it in the trash, flicking off the light before joining you at the bottom of the bed.

“Thank you,” you murmur, kissing his chin before taking him by the hand to his side of the bed. Instead of climbing over to yours, you peel back the blankets and lay against his pillow. Taking a moment to fluff everything how you like, you open your legs for him and pat your thighs.

His eyes crinkle with his laugh, cheeks turning pink and you giggle when he knees way on top of you. You give him a sec to settle in, laying on his tummy between your thighs with his elbows on either side of your head.

“Night my love.” He whispers, resting his nose against yours and pecking at the corner of your mouth. You pull the blankets up over him, letting him reach over to flick off the lamp before he slides further down your body in the darkness.

Nico rests his head on your chest, one hand holding your thigh and the other sliding under the small of your back. He can’t stay like that all night but for now he’ll try.

“Night neeks,” you mumble into the top of his head, closing your eyes and stroking your fingers up and down his broad back. He adjusts his head, a curious noise coming from his mouth.

After a moment, his voice breaks the stillness.

“I thought you were pregnant,” he whispers, and you hum to let him know you’re listening. “Your boobs are bigger,” he continues and you blink your eyes open to stare at the ceiling.

Of course he’d fucking notice that.

“And you cum really fast now,” he adds as an afterthought. “Like really fast, always so wet too. I don’t even have to try anymore.”

Of course he’d notice that too. And it’d be hot, the cockiness of his words if they didn’t drip with disappointed confusion.

“Oh,” you mumble, unsure of what to say.

“Maybe we should see someone?” He prods, and his fingers nervously stroke over your thigh. You realize he’s feeling insecure about this, about not being able to get to you pregnant. He feels at fault, like he needs help somehow. Your heart almost breaks at the thought and you so badly want to tell him the truth.

When you don’t respond he continues, “I just, not that I think anything is wrong with us but I…”

You bury your other hand in his hair, scratching his scalp to soothe him.

“I want this so badly,” he confesses. “And I want it now.”

Guilty and unsure of what to do, you hold him tighter. “I know Nico. But it hasn’t been that long and maybe we just need to try more?”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly “yeah but I think I’m still gonna do research, ok?”

You smile in the darkness. Always ready to go, to do more. You’d expect nothing less of him.

“Ok baby,” you agree “now get some rest for tomorrow. That schedule of yours has us down for like 3 times.”

He giggles boyishly and you swoon like a school girl. “Not that you need it since I’m apparently easy now.”

Nico snuggles further into your chest. “Nah think I’ve just spoiled you with good dick too often now.”

You can’t deny his words so you just kiss his forehead, shushing him to sleep. Hopefully you can keep up this act for the next couple days.

~

Nico came home to a romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day. This year it was your turn to plan, so you’d made his favorite pasta dish and set the table up all nice and pretty with pink and red confetti and candles and heart balloons.

Dressed up in his favorite little red silk dress you owned, you two talked and laughed over dinner, him sipping his beer and you water as you simply caught up on everything. You’re lucky to have Nico as both your lover and best friend, it makes conversation easy and fun, and kept it away from the topic of a baby. You figured a break from it would be refreshing, especially after that damn schedule of his had almost half the day blocked away for sex.

“Extra on the day of love,” he’d explained with an innocent smile and you let him be.

You needed him happy and distracted until dessert. And he was, so happy he didn’t even notice your lack of alcohol or the way your hormones had your eyes on his lips and half unbuttoned dress shirt all night.

Finally, at dessert you sealed the deal. Perched up on the kitchen counter with your legs swinging, you dipped a mini marshmallow into the chocolate fondue he made. Popping it into your mouth, you admired him as he poured two glasses of sparkling cider, in a bottle you made look like champagne.

Nico handed you your glass, parting his lips for a bite of chocolate covered strawberry that you fed him. You caught his lips right after, enjoying the sweet taste of dessert on his tongue.

“You know,” he murmured “I think we’ve still got an hour on the calendar.”

You laughed, peeling back from him to take a drink from your glass. Nico watched you with big moony eyes, dimples in his cheeks and his free hand wandered to your hip to hold you. Catching the way his eyes fell to your cleavage, you kicked at his thigh to keep him from staring too long. The last thing you need is him noticing that your boobs have grown even bigger in the last two days.

“Drink your champagne and then maybe,” you instruct and he huffs, rolling his eyes before bringing the glass to his lips. You watch him take a drink, notice the way his eyebrows furrow and he quietly smacks his lips afterwards.

Looking at you curiously, he frowns. “Baby this isn’t alcoholic?” He takes another drink before you can answer, still smacking his lips before setting the glass down.

“What?” You play along, slinking down from the counter and moving to the other side of the island. Nico pays you no mind, grabbing the bottle off the counter and lifting it to read the back of the label.

“What kind even is this?” He mutters, ever the Swiss wine critic and you smile as you dig out the positive test from where you hid it in the kitchen drawer.

Bouncing on your toes, you return to his side just as he turns the bottle to the front. It takes him a moment to fully read it. The custom label you made that in fancy lettering reads

Baby on the way!

Congrats daddy!

2024

“What?” He mutters confused, but you can feel the excitement bubbling in his chest as the words start to click.

“This might help,” you offer, placing the test on the counter in front of him. You attach yourself to his back, arms around his waist as you bite back a smile. Nico immediately picks it up, and you feel his whole body tense.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles, bottle and test clattering to the countertop. Nico shakes your hold off, spinning around to you. “Baby w-what? Are you-what?”

He grabs your face between his palms, eyes already filled with happy tears as they bore into your own watery ones.

“We’re pregnant Nico.” You confirm, laughing wetly. It’s as if he’s unsure of what to even do with himself, going between clutching your smiling face and raking his fingers through your hair. Finally he settles for wrapping you up in his arms, spinning you around the kitchen and hopping around like a giddy child.

You paw at his neck and shoulders, needing something to hold onto because he feels like he’s going to float up to the ceiling with you in his arms.

“We’re having a baby!” He cheers through a laugh “A baby! My baby!”

By the time he’s placed you back on the ground you’re breathless and dizzy from laughing. You cling to him, happy tears rolling down your cheeks and you’re so glad you decided on no makeup tonight.

Tear tracks stain his cheeks, his smile so big you think it might fall off his face and his neck has gotten all red and splotchy from excitement. You coo at him, tracing your fingers over it as if trying to soothe him.

“How long? I mean just the other day-“

“I lied,” you admit, frowning guiltily. “The test I showed you was old but I wanted to surprise you. I know you wanted this as a birthday gift so I figured I’d just make it a Valentine’s Day gift. I’m so sorry-“

His lips cut you off, sweet and passionate as he teasingly traces his tongue over your bottom lip. Nico backs you up into the countertop, moaning softly when your chest presses into his.

“No apologies,” he insists when he pulls back, still smiling. “This is the best gift.” He kisses you again, softer and shorter this time.

“Do you know how long?”

You play with the top button of his shirt. “I haven’t gone to like a doctor or anything. I only realized it last week and I took that test two nights ago but I think I’m a little over a month.”

A shit eating grin overtakes his face. “News Year Eve I knew it!” He exclaims, kissing at your cheeks and you laugh. “Or maybe my birthday. God we were so good on my birthday.”

“We’re always good,” you argue, pressing your front into him. You can feel the bulge of his cock in his jeans against your lower stomach but you don’t comment on it, waiting for him to do so.

“Yeah,” he agrees thoughtfully, eyes raking over your face. You bat your eyes at him, smiling shyly until he chuckles.

“I’m hard,” he admits as if you didn’t know. You hum your agreement, slowly working the other buttons of his shirt undone.

“Let’s go take care of it,” you murmur into his ear, breathy when you add a sly “daddy” to the end. Nico’s knees shake, a painful groan escaping his red lips and he’s scooping you up and hurrying to the bedroom.

You whine, pointing toward the couch and kicking your feet in protest. “It was so much closer,” you complain and he grunts in disgust.

“Not fucking my pregnant girl on the couch on Valentine’s Day,” he argues, tossing you gently into the pillows. “M’gonna take good care of ya.”

Shamelessly, you watch him unbutton the rest of his shirt and strip it from his body, squeezing your thighs together as he moves onto his jeans. He drops them and his boxers in one go, eager as he crowds over you on the bed, cock red and dripping as he goes.

You almost moan at the sight of him, hungry and desperate for him despite how often he’s been between your thighs lately. Nico notices, simpering as he works your dress up your thighs and torso, revealing the white panties you wore underneath with a simple red heart on the front. You’d forgone a bra early today, knowing it would just be uncomfortable and awkward and Nico mumbles his appreciation when he gets the dress up around your neck.

His lips find the swell of your left breast, kissing gently at the swollen flesh as he blindly works your clothing over your head.

“My pretty girl,” he says more to himself than you, moving to the other breast as you toss the dress to the floor. “God I knew something was different.”

You laugh, tangling his hair in your fingers and drawing his mouth up to yours. He kisses you sloppily, hands moving to your underwear. Nico doesn’t even tease you before he’s pushing them down and you help wiggle out of them impatiently.

Your cunt throbs, wet and raw and desperate to feel him again and again. You whimper into his lips, slinging a leg around his waist to draw him closer.

“Need you now, Nico please.” You beg as his mouth moves to your neck. His hand blindly reaches down to fist himself, and he obediently obliges your begging by burying his cock in you, one swift motion.

You gasp for a breath as your toes tingle, pleasure swirling in your belly and Nico moans in your ear, voice husky and broken. He’s just as desperate as you.

“So fucking wet, Jesus,” he mutters in astonishment, lifting himself to watch you writhe beneath him. “All needy and horny for the cock that put a baby in you? Always ready for me weren’t you? Should fill you up, put another one in you right now huh?”

You slur some sort of agreement, as least something intelligible enough for Nico. His dirty mouth continues, working you tighter and tighter as he steadily ruts into you.

“Did I take care of you sweetheart?” He asks lowly, mouth hot against your ear. “Before? When I didn’t know?”

Your jumbled, sex fogged brain clicks for just a moment. He’s not just talking dirty, not trying to get you to cum. He genuinely wants to know if he fucked you good enough all those times before. When he didn’t know you were dripping into the mattress because your pregnancy brain was all hot and bothered over him 24/7. Because he was so focused on just putting a baby in you that he didn’t pay attention to the fact he already had.

“Yes!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulders. You meet his gaze, eyes glossy and wild with love. “So good Nico, every time. Felt like you knew.”

His hips slow, rocking into you softy. “Yeah?”

You nod, frantically, the slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls driving you mad. “Didn’t even notice,” you admit to him, earnestly “but you got so soft, so strong and instinctive like…”

Like a parent, you realize. He always fucked you like he was trying to thank you for giving him something so precious while also taking care of you.

“Like I wanted to make you feel so fucking good without hurting our baby.” He fills in, because he’s realized it too. His mind may have been in the dark before, but his body wasn’t.

“Can I cum?” You ask pathetically, fighting to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. Nico coos at you, sympathetic and gentle when he slots his mouth to yours for a quick nip at your lips.

“Always, can always cum for me baby.” He promises, pressing his chest down low to yours. His knees dig into the mattress, steeling himself as he draws his cock out to the tip and then fucks into you with earnest.

You cry out, the head of him nudging into you so perfectly you could melt. Nico kisses you as best he can around your blubbering noises of pleasure, the flames of your orgasm licking at your core.

Nico’s fingers find your clit, the pads of them rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. White bursts behind close eyes, your toes curling and ears roaring as you reach your high.

“Ooh,” Nico breathes into the side of your face “yes sweetheart, come on my cock. So good, you’re so good to me.”

The rest of his needy mumbles are lost to you, your mind occupied with the wave of pleasure that sweeps over you, pulsing with each pass of Nico’s fingers and each thrust of his hips.

Foggy and hazy you hear him whimper, find enough of yourself to kiss him slowly as his cock twitches and throbs, filling you with his cum. His lips are languid and hot against yours, broken breaths and moans falling from them as you both come down.

Finally he settles into your neck, taking one last deep breath before he’s holding you tight to his body and rolling to his back. You go with him easily, falling into his chest like a rag doll and curling up. Unsure if it’s him enjoying the moment or habit by now, you sit comfortably on his softening cock with no protest, exhaustion pulling at your bones already.

“All I want to do lately is jump your bones or sleep,” you mumble to him, yawning afterwards. His chest rumbles with laughter, hands running up and down your spine in some unknown pattern.

“I can live with that,” he says, “like fucking you so good you get all sleepy afterwards. Snuggle into me so nicely.”

You smile, eyes falling shut as you curl your arms around him. The room falls silent save for the sound of you two still catching you breaths, and the rise and fall of his chest is lulling you to sleep when he speaks up.

“Thank you,” he whispers “for giving me a baby.”

You can hear the emotion in his voice, how it sticks in his throat and weighs down his words. If you look at him you don’t imagine he’d be crying, but pretty damn close you think.

“Don’t thank me until the baby is here,” you reply, and than just because you can feel him starting to slip from between your thighs you add. “Besides, this is the work of you and the pretty cock of yours.”

Nico jolts as if you’d just pinched him, hips pressing up into you and his cock twitches with interest. You giggle, amused at his predictability as he whimpers.

“You’re gonna have fun with this aren’t you?” He asks but he doesn’t sound too upset.

Tired and content, you nod. This is going to be a fucking blast.

[altraviolet]

TEG bad ending poll results/slight personal stuff

twitter:

tumblr:

damn, look how similar those results are. seems fitting for 2024

alright so: folks have been asking for a TEG sequel since before it ended. we last left Soundwave with an insatiable hunger he has no recourse for. we left him with a good ending, because that's what I wanted. it was the goal. it was always the goal. I didn't address the insatiable hunger in a finalizing manner so that we could have the good ending.

the most logical ending for a TEG sequel is a bad one: Soundwave is destined for a 2938 Megatron style ascension (however broken. it would manifest differently for him). he can't help it: it's in him. it's part of him. it's what makes him wonderful, unique, and uniquely dangerous. there are a few ways that manifestation of power could play out and all of them are bad

I'll admit I'm currently looking at the world through some very angry eyes. I'm talking US politics, here. you know what I mean. I'm so angry, and so tired, and so frustrated. this naturally spills into the thing I spend the most amount of not-work-related time on: writing.

I'm so angry.

however. there's something to be said for escapism, and joy as resistance, and creating, and, honestly, I do feel a little responsible for you all- TEG has a large audience, and a portion of you see me regularly on social media, and, well, I feel like I owe it to you to create things that will make you feel better. I don't have a lot of power, but maybe I can do that, and maybe it will mean the tiniest something. maybe it will help you. and maybe it will help me. I know the answer to being angry isn't isolation or more anger. it's reaching out and keeping each other steady

so, I'm going to do my best to work on some more fics, which was definitely not my plan immediately post TEG. my current plans are:

-secret solenoid fic

-new Rodimus/Soundwave in a fanon continuity (aka not based on any canon, it'll be similar to Angel Breaker or Light Runners in that regard)

-possible TEG sequel with a lot of pain... but not a bad ending. I hate giving out spoilers so that's the only time I'm going to say it xD

I really hope you'll all give the fanon continuity fic a chance, when it comes out. I'm still trying to figure out what's going to happen. A lot of things are planned, but not the most important things. I always struggle with plot.

it's really important that we keep going, and try to have some fun, and really just... try our best. I'm going to struggle with that and I know I'm not alone. and neither are you. ok? ok.

thanks for reading 💜

[hezuart]

LN Channel Change AU Sequel: “Seven” {1} {2} {3} {here/final}

And they lived happily ever after. Or did they? We've established our main characters Mono (TV/space-time) and Six (Soul Sucking) have strange supernatural powers. I wanted Seven to have one too. (Hydrokinesis aka water bending)

Notes for how I came up with Seven's powers and the deeper meaning behind his interaction with Mono:

1. Each child has nightmare prophecies (something to do with Mono's time loop?)  at the beginning of their stories. Six's is the Lady, Mono's is the door that leads to the Thin Man, and Seven's is being pulled underwater. Six and Mono's nightmare visions are fulfilled at the end of their stories; revealing that the thing they dreamed about, they essentially become or usurp.  Seven's differs. His dream resolves in act 1 and he kills the Granny, the creature assumed to be the one pulling him underwater in his nightmare. But what if Seven's dream prophecy was still valid... even post-Granny? Being dragged underwater... for a different fate?

2. Seven is the only main cast character shown with the ability to swim. 3. "Seven Seas" anyone? Water is a symbol of purification & life, hence, Seven gains his new powers after he survived and Mono broke the timeline loop to start fresh. "Washing it away" so to say. 4. Water is a liquid; passive in nature, but powerful in circumstance. Seven is kind and sneaky but kills the Granny when continuously attacked and threatened by her. He does the same to the Octopus monster.

5. Water molecules have adhesion and cohesion, meaning water likes to stick to itself, and stick to other things. Seven has an attachment to Nomes. He is always drawn to other people and other creatures, wanting to help them. His belief is that survival chances are higher amidst a group. Water is also known for containing life, no matter how strange or deep, such as ocean fish that often travel in schools/packs often to confuse or fight off predators, thus, another reference to Seven's new life, and his teamwork with Nomes and Mono.

6. Seven is often in fandom depicted by a circle. A water droplet. 7. Seven collects flotsam; typically boat debris, but in this case, bottled messages that come from the sea. Yet another connection to water.

All this indicates heavy implication and well-fitting power to bestow hydrokinesis onto Seven. I was inspired by the INSIDE game's drowning chapter and Stanley and Stanford's secret boat hide-out on the beach from Gravity Falls. Which is why I have selected Mono, Seven, and all their future friends to a lovely and sunny (future) beach house, far away from everything they've suffered. And living near the largest body of water on the planet with a kid with hydrokinesis? ...Certainly has its perks!

But Seven gaining powers is important to not only their survival but also him. He was still nervous about Mono. He knew Mono was very powerful and mysterious. In more ways than one. Mono is stronger than him and can also use telekinesis on objects on the beach. He's a better food hunter and seems more like a leader. Seven also likes to lead, but he felt outshined by Mono. (I don't portray that well in my comic) Seven is weaker and defenseless. His only shining quality in comparison is his ability to swim, but even that can only get him so far. He risks his life for his Nome friends and loses his life doing so. Or so he thought. By a miracle, his powers over water awaken. He drains the monster of its water, beaching it. He walks to Mono in a new light. It's a new him. He holds up his hands as if to say "See? I'm like you now." He's leveled the playing field. (It also helps that he now has jurisdiction over power Mono cannot interact with) Now they are truly equal. Two kings; one of land, one of sea, both ruling the island in equal standing. Seven will never again feel like a burden left behind. (Seven's powers activating also has something to do with the fact he bit the Octopus creature to save the Nome. Mono and Six both consume their powerful prophesized enemies to gain some of their power, if they didn't already have some before. Seven biting into the Octopus's flesh and unknowingly consuming some of it may have jumpstarted his power deep within him, on top of him encountering Mono; supernatural kid extraordinaire that brought him through a tower wormhole to escape the city)

~~~

A threequel is planned, and maybe the last addition to this series, but the next one is not fully fleshed out yet so it may be another year until I can really touch upon it yet. Otherwise, hope you guys enjoyed!

[brucewaynehater101]

So there's a fic that I think you will like. It's called The Definition of Valor by Nerdpoe. Really short, spoiler free summery. Instead of loosing his Spleen, Tim looses his eyes. He makes special gadgets to help him with this, such as a device in is cowl that scans the room he is in and tells him what is where via coded sounds, like say, two low A notes followed by a chirp means there is a wooden desk to the north east of him. He also makes a special computer program for his grapple so when he points it somewhere, it will adjust his aim so he never misses and always attaches to a good spot.

This fic is giving me *so many* thoughts about the potential fall out of this being found out not as soon as Tim gets back to Gothem because he never tells anyone. Specifically it's making me think about Tim who is Bruce's dad not telling Bruce because he doesn't want to worry his son. He doesn't want to worry his grandchildren/siblings either so he puts in colored contacts and wears glasses when his cowl isn't on. The glasses and an ear piece have the same tech as his cowl to tell him where everything is.

How long would it take them to find out? Tim would never tell them, so do they find out on accident because Tim forgot the contacts that are his normal eye color, or because Ras is mad at Tim and tells them what Ras did to Tim? Maybe he got to mad and while ranting at a Rouge (either Harley or Two Face would be especially funny if he's just been hanging upside down and ranting and raving fo 30 minuets already) over one of their traps, he accidentally lets slip that he's blind, or maybe he yells at Riddler, "Nygma, this isn't fair! I've been completely blind since last July and my usual tech that tells me what's around me is getting fucked by your signal jammer! So either read the riddle to me out loud or let me go!" and then later Riddler scolds one of the other Bats for letting the blind one do the visual puzzles much to their confusion.

Hi!!! I love that fic so much! Have you seen the sequel for it as well? It's short, but a great read. I would die for more of this concept.

In that fic, Bruce turns out to be a good dad. While I may hate Bruce, the way that guy handles the situation in that fic is fantastic.

However, I would like a fic where this concept gets a delayed reveal. In the AU, Tim figures out how to function without his eyes.

He engineers technology to read people's facial expression/body language to help him out. It reads words for him, etc.

I wonder what excuse he'd give for wearing the earpiece and glasses all the time. Maybe he says it's another aspect to separate Timothy Drake from Red Robin?

Just Tim gaslighting and girlbossing his way into pretending he can still see. I kind of want him to keep up the ruse for a long while.

When he does get found it, it'd be hilarious if the others forget he's blind. Tim has engineered technology to assist him, but he still can't see. So they'll try to take him to activities they did together when he could see (like star gazing) or they'll ask him what he thinks of the color of their outfit. He also ruthlessly uses his blindness as an excuse to mess with people. If Timothy Drake-Wayne is known to be blind, he'll use it to accuse Luthor of being ableist at every chance he'll get. He also bullies the shit out of governmental agents and companies that don't provide accommodations.

I'm also a fan of Riddler finding out about it, but him just changing his puzzles to be accommodating. I'm biased towards Riddler (I love him so much) so it'd be cool to see the silent show of support like that.

Another AU idea: When Tim blows up Ra's bases, the explosions cause him to become deaf or hard-of-hearing.

Dealer's choice on how much hearing he loses, but I feel like this could be great to explore deafness and misconceptions commonly held in our society.

Tim would probably already know how to sign and lip read (might even know multiple different sign languages), but he would face a few difficulties.

He chooses not to disclose his hearing loss

People often cover their mouths or face away from someone when speaking (which makes lip reading arduous)

Ableist people suck

The world is set up for hearing people, so a lot of issues stem from a lack of accommodations rather than Tim's ability to hear

Tim chose not to tell anyone about the change in hearing for a few reasons: he doesn't trust anyone (especially during his adjustment period) and he doesn't want to be underestimated (wants to prove himself in the field before they try to pull him from it).

As far as technology to help him, the comms were easier to program than other auditory inputs. Since they were designed to transmit clear voices, he merely has to train a program to automatically close caption whatever is spoken (the automatic ones used today are useful, but still make too many errors for Tim's preference. Some also only do words automatically and leave out helpful information like laughing, choking, screaming, computer dings, etc.). Each Bat member has their own designated color. For those he doesn't interact with often, it says their name before every time they speak up.

Tim incorporates the visual overlay into his goggles and glasses. He can read what people contribute to the conversation based on that. It also leaves his hands free so he doesn't need to look down. His wrist computer stores records of what has been said so Tim can go back over it if he misses it. He also has the ability to change where the words appear on his field of vision.

I also hc Alfred is the first to notice that Tim is staring intently at his lips when he talks and has difficulties with the conversation when Alfred changes the way he pronounces words or isn't facing Tim (this is before Tim's tech gets perfected). From then on, Alfred makes a point of facing Tim whenever the teen is in the room. They both don't talk about it until the rest of the family finds out (however long that takes).

Feel free to add more to either AU!

[zwolfgames]

Yandere Platonic MHA x child!reader

Requested by: jocru046

Part two/sequel of this.

(Warnings: kind of kidnapping, kicking a child, creepy overbearing behavior, yandere in general.)

(3rd person POV)

Life sucked.

No really, it did.

Atleast for you, that is. Y/N, not even a last name. Just a small kid, no parents or guardian. You can't even remember how thar happned. Did you have parents? Did you just spawn in one day? Only god knew. No wait, that didn't exsist. Trust me, you had begged that god for help and received nothing.

Never having gone to school or kindergarden you were far behind other kids. Now, as a illiterate 8 year old with no hopes or dreams you live on the streets. Luckily, your quirk kept you alive.

A simple concept. You cried pearls. Or well, thats all you knew of it. It would be sad if that was the only thing you could do but you didn't care at the moment. Survival was your top priority.

So, when you ran low on money, you cried and collected the little pearls. Selling them to who-ever you could. It worked... well enough. You were a kid, you definitly got scammed a lot.

So that brings us to this faithfull moolit night. One where you were drawing on an old newspaper. You couldn't read it anyways.

All was calm untill you began to hear footsteps. Loud frantic footsteps and heavy breaths. Like a group of humans running from a bear.

You held your breath and shrunk into your make-shift dumpster house as the footsteps came into your alley.

You expected them to just run past, like everyone always did. But no...

They stopped... Right in the middle of the alley.

It was quiet for a moment, just a moment. As if they were scanning the space.

"Oi! Kid. Come out, right now! We know you're here!" Some loud man screamed. A sudden crash of a thrashcan being thrown against a wall was heard. You gulped.

Surely they were thinking if some other kid, right? I mean, surely there was some other poor orphan child in this alley besides you?

Nope.

Just as you finished the tought the lid of your dumpster home smashed open and before you could even gasp one of the men had a crushing grip on your upper arm. Ripping you out of the dumpster as if you were nothing but a twig.

"Got it." He huffed to his boss as this henchman, or whatever, held you beside him in the crushing grip.

"Who are you? Let go! You're hurting me!" You growl and bare your teeth, a trick you had seen the stray dogs use on weirdo's.

"Shut it. Hurt them." The boss man said harshly. He looked disgusting. Like some vile criminal. Whatever his quirk was wasnt helping his appearance. This man had the skin of a fish yet the appearance of a man...

The thug holding you complied and bashed your head against the rough brick wall. You let out a pained sounded and started slightly crying at the pain. Your head feeling heavy as you saw stars. If you guessed right you were even bleeding.

Two small pearls streamed down your cheeks and fell to the dirty alley ground with a small sound.

The fish man grinned, revealing scary, shark-like, teeth. "Thats them. The pearl seller. Take em away. We'll be rich by the end of the week!" He laughed and you were dragged along. Your head still spinning.

This was going too fast. What was happening?! Who were these people? Why did they hurt you?

You began realising the situation when their black van came into vieuw. They'd stuff you in there and you'd never be seen again! You knew it! You've seen it happen to kids before!

So in that moment you let out the most blood-curdling scream of despair. Shrill and loud, just like you wanted it.

The chance someone would come to rescue you was small, seeing how humans were.... But it was worth a shot.

The man holding you growled in anger and kicked in your stomach. You almost fell to the ground if it wasn't for his deadly harsh grip on your arm. The air knocked out of you.

The thug was about to throw you into the dammned van before you were suddendly back on the ground again.

No longer having your arm crushed. Now curling up into a pained ball on the ground as you cried. Shiny perfect pearls rolling down your face.

There, infront of you, stood some darkly dressed man. Somehow, his scarf somehow floating...

Just a moment ago all those bad men were ready to drive off.... and now they were either knocked out on the ground or too pained to move...

What was this... mosnter? How did he do this? The scary looking man came closer to you, taking light steps.

You could see his face now. Some ridiculous yellow goggles on his eyes. His long, messy black hair swayed with his steps. Overall, he didnt look too bad... maybe a bit sleep-deprived and dead inside but oh well... What made him scary was the fact that he just wiped out this gang of men that wanted to kidnap you.

The unknown man kneels down in front of you. Not too close, not too far.

He observes you. Just faintly, you can see his eyes stare into yours from behind his strange yellow goggles.

"Are you alright?" He asks after a long silnece. You had alreadt seized your crying... now just a pile of little pearls on the ground.

"Im... fine." You whispered. In a broken choked voice. Who could blame you? You just released the loudest scream you ever had in your short life.

"Sounds like a lie. You're bleeding kiddo." The mysterious man sigh and reaches his hand towards you, to wich you flinch and scamble to your feet to take a step back.

The man frowns and stand up aswell, way more intimidating at his full height.

"There's no need to be afraid. Im here to help." He said, keeping the distance as to not scare you further.

This man... He may be scary but he didn't feel the same way the thugs on the ground felt.... More... safe.

How could some-one so scary feel safe? You wondered.

The man seemed to notice your questioning look but said nothing, merely making sure you didn't run off. You were injured and he needed the whole story.

"Whats your name?" He suddendly said, his voice soft and caring, as if he was speaking to a small child- oh wait, you were a small child.

You hesitated for a moment but decided to just answer before he bashed your head in like he did with the thugs.

"Y/N..." You answer softly. Not looking him in the face anymore.

"Where are your parents, Y/N?" He asked calmly. That question stunned you for a moment, maybe you should have expected it but somehow... no-one had asked you that before.

"...Non-exsistent." You answered bluntly. Not a hint of care for the subject in your voice.

The man had expected that but not in... such a careless way.

"I see... Would you trust me to help you?" He asked. This man only asked questions, how annoying.

"...No." You answered after a moment of silence. The man seemed baffled, as if no-one he had rescued had ever said 'no'.

He opened his mouth to say something yet before he could a groan was heard from the fish man on the ground behind him.

He shot into action at the mere sound and before you knew it you were off the ground and in his arms.

The wind blew into your face before the man tucked your head into his chest. Now you had no clue what was happening.

But judging from the loud air sounds, you were going fast as fuck.

As the surprise faded and you came back to your senses you started struggeling, to wich the man simply tightend his hold on you.

"Don't struggle, im taking you somewhere safer." He said calmly, tough the wind made it hard to hear. Was this dude doing parkour or something? You were getting sick from these abrupt movements! But i guess that did make you struggle less.

You tried to speak but this mans clothes were smothering your face. That weird scarf fluttering against your head as the man jumped and ran.

After an agonizing whileof running and wind he set you down on a chair. No wait, this was a car...

"Mister, what do you think you're doing-" You quickly asked but he held a finger to your lips and buckled you in. You were utterly confused.

First, some thugs tried to nab you for unknown reasons. And now this random man shoved you into his car?!

You gulped in slight fear yet looked around the car curiously, never having been in one before.

The man seemed satisfied with your silence and got into the car, taking the wheel and driving off.

"I know this is going too fast for you, but you'll be alright. Im EraserHead. A pro-hero." He side-eyed you and you simply looked up ahead. He was right, this was going too fast. And a pro-hero? This slobby dude? Really?

You said nothing and simply stared ahead. This was too complex for a child. You felt as if you should be scared but he had infact saved you... untill he grabbed you himself but eh.

EraserHead eventually stopped the car and got out before walking over to your side and unbuckeling you. Taking your hand as he leads you into a huge building.

"See, this is U.A. You've heard of it, haven't you?" He smiles slightly down at you. Those stupid goggles off of his face now so you could actually see his eyes.

You wanted to say no... but decided just to nod to avoid any boring info.

EraserHead led you into the grand building and after an endless amount of twists and turns you arrived at some sort of hospital room.

There, at a desk, set a tiny old lady. She turned her head and greeted EraserHead before turning her attention to you. You didn't know what it was about her but she immeadiatly had your trust.

"How are you feeling sweetie?" She asked softly and observed your still bleeding head and multiple scrape wounds. Wich now that the adrenaline had stopped working, hurt quite a lot.

"I-Im fine." You meekly uttered, shrinking into yourself slightly. Eraserhead was about to comment 'Lies.' Once again but he didn't have the chance as the old lady shot him a glare.

"Is it okay if I help you dear?" She smiles at you. It was quite comforting since she wasn't way taller then you. You nod hesistanly.

The lady somewhat kisses your forehead and you can littarly feel your wounds being healed. Wich was really really weird!

The lady nodded and pat your head before gesturing to EraserHead that you were now fixed.

He nodded back and took your hand again. Seeing as this man claimed he was a hero, you'd seize your struggeling..  for now.

After another long trip of twists and turns youre back outside. Now walking on a nice path with a bunch of tall buildings next to it.

Where the hell did you end up?

"Students... This is Y/N. They'll be staying here temporally, untill I figure out how to solve their living situation." EraserHead ordered a group of weird looking teens. Wait, stay here?! Your consent was not asked!

Your eyes widen and you instictivly hide behind EraserHead. An action he found just adorable, tough he would never admit that.

The students stared for a moment untill you were suddendly swarmed.

Some pink girl squished your cheeks and you felt observed by everyone.

"Y/N, you're such a cutie. How did you end up here hmm?" The pink lady asked, to wich you had no answer. Luckily, EraserHead still exsisted and shooed the teens away.

"Y/N almost got abducted by a gang. They got hurt so I took them here. They don't seem to have parents or a guardian so untill that is sorted they stay here. If I hear even a single complaint from the kid, you're all dead." He sneered and glared at some spikey haired blonde specifically.

You gulped at all the attention and took a step backwards only to bump into some green haired guy.

He smiled such a friendly smile down at you, it was impossible to feel scared. That was what you tought untill he hugged you.

"Whats your quirk, little Y/N?" He asked sickingly sweet as he held you. You bet he tought it was comforting but after today and the amount of grabbing you've lived trough it was not..

"I um... cry pearls..." You uttered weakly. Overwhelmed by all the states and attention.

He nodded and seemed fascinated. Patting your head. "Thats so cool! Do they stay forever or is it temporary? Is it real pearl or does it just look like it? Does it hurt? Are there drawbacks? Do you get tired? Does i-"

"Shut up you stupid nerb!" That spikey haired blonde dude yelled harshly and his hand suddendly exploded.

You yelped in surprise and clung onto the green haired boy for dear life.

Not a moment later the blonde get wacked in the head by EraserHead.

"Stop bothering them. Introduce yourselfs so I can show them their room, they must be tired." He instructs and they did indeed introduce themselves. Some more elaborate then others but hey.... Its not like you'd remember their names anytime soon...

Like he said, EraserHead, also known as Aizawa now, led you up the stairs and showed you a vacant room.

There was a bed, a coffee table, a desk and a chair.... Thats more then you've ever had! Oh my god?!

Aizawa noticed you absolute bafflement and had to surpress a chuckle.

"Will you be able to sleep kiddo?" He asked softly and looked down at you. You slowly nodded, still taking the room in.

He smiled and pat your head before leaving you in the room. Closing the door behind him. You were now alone. And very tired. So you slumped onto the bed and fell asleep.

"Y/N. Wake up. Satou made breakfast." Some sweet female voice called out to you in your sleep. You slowly opened your eyes and were met with... Momo.... And her last name was too long for you to remember, so Momo it was.

Her black hair was nicely tied up and she put some clothes at the end of your bed.

"Come down when youre ready." She smiled and left your room. You were still sleepy but complied. Wow, these people were nice.

You put on your clothes, you had no clue how they got your meassurements but whatever.

You came downstairs and followed the sound of loud teens.

It led you to the dining room in this weird dorm like building and the room went quiet when you stepped in.

You were almost scared you did something wrong untill the students began argueing on who you should sit next to.

You stood there awkwardly before you were grabbed of the ground by none other then Aizawa and he just plopped you into an empty chair.

Now the people argued over who got to sit next to you but you just shrunk into yourself and quietly ate your food. It was amazing!

The students finally stopped bickering by the time you were done with eating, so, it was all for nothing. You jumped of your seat and went back to your room, unsure of what you were supposed, and allowed, to do.

Like that, life went on for some weeks. Tough you had noticed the way the class had become way more clingy and affectionate. You almost felt like some baby-doll they were assigned to take care off and got too attached to.

Your room had slowly been filled up with gifts and toys you had never seen before. But as much as you wanted to ignore it.... you had noticed how your balcony window did not open...

"Kiri, put me down! I can stand, I have legs!" You huff and struggle. Thats another thing they liked to do. Just pick you up.

"Would you rather not have legs, hmm?" He smiled sickingly sweet. It shut you right up. Another one of those scary remarks.

Something was wrong with these people.

You were hoping and praying for Aizawa to finish finding where you would go. Maybe an orphanage? Perhaps directly to a family?

He would never tell you he stopped searching long ago.

As Kirishima carried you to the living room for a movie you noticed everyone had gathered there.

You were put right in the middle, nicely tucked into a blanket. The movie started and you tried your best to pay attention... but you felt more watched then the movie...

You wanted to go home... But there was no home. You used to live in a dumpster for gods sake! They really had you stuck here.

The evening commenced and you fell asleep on the couch. It was way past your bedtime afterall.

The next day, you just woke up back in your bed. Probably carried there by who knows who... Everyone of these kids was strong enough to carry ten of you!

It was a nice loop. Wake up, eat, get left 'alone' for the school hours, play with the teens, eat, sleep. The same, every day.

You were so stuck in this routine. Figurativly and littarly.

You were used to it yes.... But they wouldn't ever let you leave either.

You hadnt tried yet... But each time you wandered outside you were quickly dragged back... It's like you were watched 24/7.

They didn't want you to play outside. It was dangerous. You could catch a cold, or scrape your knee.

All very normal things. You tried to reason. Back when you lived on the streets you got hurt and sick all the time. It made them even more protective.

Soon, you began noticing. The hushed whispers they tought you didn't hear. The hidden cameras. The damm baby monitor under you bed.

They were crazy! They had to be! What was all this? Why weren't you sent away yet?

What were you doing here?

Answers never came. You just had to stay in the loop. Wake up, eat, get left 'alone' for the school hours, play with the teens, eat, sleep.

Thats what they wanted.

You didn't have to know how dear you were to them. An innocent child. Waiting for them at the end of a stressfull day. Smiling and laughing.

You were precious to them.

You didn't have to know. You just had to stay.

None of them had ever expected that they could agree on something this... unhealty. Yet they did.

These teens, with such diffrencess, agreed to keep you with them.

How absurd.

But it happned anyways.

All was fine untill these 'villains' attacked their school.

From what you've heard, it wasn't the first time. You had seen nothing of the fight.

Aizawa had handed you to Jirou and Asui right at the beginning. They had a simple task. Bring you to the safest possible place.

Wich to your displeasure was a basement.

It was dark and you could hear fighting, but you couldnt go see. Couldnt move.

They made sure of that.

You were like their sibling. Their dear younger sibling.

You had suffred enough.

If they couldnt keep you safe now, how would they ever be great hero's?

So thats how security became even stronger after the attack.

No longer were you even allowed to step a foot outside. Not even look at the door if they could help it.

There was always someone with you.

Some nicer then other.... Surprisingly, Bakugo had more chill then Midoriya.

The angry blonde tought you how too cook omelets while the green nerd didn't even let you lift a finger.

Life was dull, repetitive and utterly.... boring.

What was fun if there were no risks? You couldn't go down a slide without someone holding you the whole way.

Couldnt build a pillow fort without Uraraka standing by for if anything fell.... Not even a pillow could graze your skin or panic would break loose!

You could argue as much as you wanted. In the end it didn't matter. You were the child. You were helpless. You needed them.

They made that clear.

And you would never, ever leave.

Where could you go?

It was them.... or nothing.

Have a nice day/night!

Words: 3543

[sitp-recs]

the sun between us by @eleadore (E, 7.4k)

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat.

How could it be? Not him, with the cold eyes and mean mouth, and all his sharp edges—every edge, no respite—nothing soft to him, nothing to draw you in. (…) He's not pretty, with his pale, pointy face, all washed of colour and full of spite. Haughty and unfeeling. Cold, Harry thinks, even in the grip of a heat, he'd be cold. Who would want to fuck him? Who would want—who would—

I finally got the chance to read this fic and I knew I was gonna write a rec for it the moment I read the quote above (I’ve actually combined my two fave quotes up there). Then I stared at my tumblr draft for about 10 minutes before I remembered how to actually write a rec lol it’s been over an year since the last one and god knows how long it will be until the next, so thank you kindly @eleadore for fueling my Drarry feels once again!

What a delicious read. So viscerally raw and thick with tension (not only sexual, which makes it even more compelling), this put me at the edge of my seat, brimming with anticipation from beginning to end. I don’t usually read a/b/o and it takes me a bit to get into it but my god, they’re so mean and so horny that I felt the UST punching my bones and was salivating from the moment Harry first sniffed Draco 🔥

This is not only an impressive masterclass in tension building within 7k (insanity!), but also a refreshing take at omegaverse and a fascinating dive into Harry and Draco, who are SO intense even when they say nothing at all: rough around the edges, unable to differentiate fighting from fucking, desperate to appear smooth when in fact they’re about to burst with want. I love how they are so attuned to each other, the desire to hurt/touch/help/hurt too strong, the wistful memory of that one day in 6th year colouring the “enemies to lovers” dynamics. It was so much fun to see this stone-cold, mocking, demanding Draco through Harry’s increasingly wanton eyes, the unrelenting banter taking the “fucking your enemy through their heat” trope to a whole new level.

Speaking of - and being a good smut champion as always - I just want to highlight how incredibly hot the whole sequence was: that unhinged frenzy of a/b/o sex, all biting and no softness, the post-nut clarity replaced by the hazy confusion of losing control and accidentally knotting your omega boyfriend enemy. Peak Drarry moment 🤣 reading this felt like a fever dream that made me eat it up in one sitting, so if anyone hasn’t had the chance to check this series yet (oh yes, there’s a sequel!!!) run don’t walk! Happy Wednesday :D

[rqgnarok]

a house upon the hill - nolan price

love you better now (sequel, original work)- leave a light on (prequel part 1) - this work is prequel part 2 but can be read individually!

fandom: law & order, law & order special victims unit

wc: 8,838

warnings: conversations about ptsd and ptsd episodes, aftermath of a traumatic event. canon presence of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, and hospitals. female reader

summary: after being shot and waking up in the hospital, the relief of your survival is short-lived.

ao3 / masterlist / buy me a coffee!

author's note below!

The relief of your survival is short-lived.

You’re tired and in pain, the doctors slowly wear you off the meds and your answers to how are doing? gets shorter and shorter to anyone who asks. Your grip around Nolan’s hand tightens further every time someone comes and goes, and by the time you’re leaving the hospital the bags under your eyes are prominent, your cheeks sharper than they were when you first got there. 

Nolan, the trooper, writes down and listens carefully to all the instructions given to him about your care. He packs your bags with all the things he brought from your appartment and the get-well-soon gifts given by family and friends. He doen’t notice you shifting restlessly as he struggles to manhandle the wheelchair, regarding it with distrust.

“Okay,” he says faux brightly, hands at his hips and looking between you and the wheelchair. “You ready to get out of here?”

Your smile is brittle as you nod. That should be Nolan’s first clue, how you don’t rise to the banter at the first chance of it. “Alright, come here. The nurse will kill me if I let you pop your stitches.”

Your jaw tightens but you go, holding onto Nolan and digging your fingers into his arms when you rise off the bed and your body feels like it’s being lit on fire. You curse under your breath and Nolan catches it, tries to meet your eye while you struggle to conceal how much you’re hurting.

“If you need a second–”

“I’m fine.”

“Honey, you can’t push yourself too hard,” he reminds you as if you don’t know. “This type of thing doesn’t heal overnight. We can take as long as you need.”

“I just want to go home,” you say, and it sounds so much like begging it makes you sick, makes you mad. “Just– can you just help me out here, please?”

“You just gotta–”

Your reply is biting. “I know, Nolan.”

The room is engulfed by silence. His hands tense where they’re holding you but to Nolan’s credit, he doesn’t let go, even if his mouth is now set in an upset, even line.Your guilt rises like waves but your annoyance drowns it out, and there’s no apology made as you finally sit in the wheelchair, exhaling in relief. 

Nolan doesn’t let go until you’re settled in nicely, and even then he remains close; gripping the handles of the chair and standing behind you where you can’t see him.

You’re buried under two sweatshirts and a coat, but the lack of touch leaves you cold nevertheless. 

Your almost-month long stay at the hospital has left your home rotting in neglect. Your furniture lays under a thin layer of dust and the dishes from your last dinner together are still in the dishwasher. The dirty laundry hamper is about to blow.

Nolan appears sheepish when your eyes inevitably go towards the chaos, expression unreadable. He’s got his arm around your waist and his grip is tight as you make your way through the apartment. “I was hoping for time to clean up a little before you came home, but I’ll take care of it, promise.”

“It’s fine,” you say, monotone. Nolan can’t really read into it, unsure if you mean it or not. Halfway to the bedroom, you dig your nails into his shoulder, pulling him to a stop near the couch. “This. Here. Here is fine.”

Nolan frowns disapprovingly. “You should really lay down.”

“I can lay down here,” you say, stubborn as always but through gritted teeth. “I don’t wanna go to bed, okay, just– here is fine.”

Nolan visibly disagrees but relents, his mind still stuck in the way you’d snapped at him back at the hospital. You unclench slightly when he finally stops touching you, body limp on the couch. Nolan tries not to bristle. 

It’s the first of many uncomfortable, tense interactions. You can’t move around the house on your own and stiffen whenever Nolan reaches out to support you. You’re quiet and short when you’re not, trying and failing to keep everything polite.

You drive each other crazy. Nolan works from home as much as he can and you don’t work at all. No matter how much you beg Cragen to send you some files, your day remains sans responsibilities. There are only so many reruns of Seinfeld you can stand before you’re making up a psychological profile for each of the characters just for the hell of it before you realize you’re losing your damn mind. 

“What happened?” he asks one afternoon when you don’t come out for dinner. You’re lying face down on the made bed, curtains drawn shut. When you don’t answer, don’t move, Nolan’s voice turns sharp, calling your name. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you snap, muffled by the sheets. Your sigh takes over your entire body, pushing yourself up to glare at him. “Nothing. Fucking nothing. Cragen won’t let me back without a therapist’s okay, alright? But other than that, everything’s perfect.”

“Isn’t that standard procedure?” he asks, sitting on the bed with a bowl of pasta on his lap. Your frown deepens like he’s the one who’s keeping you locked inside the house against your will. 

“I’m fine,” you say. “Do you know how many people I’ve seen get shot in this job? I don’t see why this is necessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he says, quietly. 

“You know how department’s shrinks are,” he has never heard you speak about psychological aid with such hatred. “But Stabler used to get a pat on the back and he’d be back to work within the hour. Go figure.”

“And look how that worked out for him,” Nolan says, the wrong thing to add, he can tell, for how you settle back into bed and refuse to face him. He sighs and speaks to your back. “What else did the Captain say?”

“‘You want back on the field, come to my office with discharge papers from Dr. Masters office,” you parrot in a poor imitation of Captain Cragen. “Other than that, he’ll be sending some paperwork my way. As if that’s the fucking point.”

Nolan lets the silence stretch, unsure of how to follow up. He flinches when you turn to scream into the pillow, raw and frustrated. You say, venomous. “Motherfucker.”

He leaves your dinner on the bedside table and leaves without a word like a chastised child, feeling like he’s walking away from something bigger than your wirldwind temper. 

—

It gets better before it gets worse. There are days in which you don’t utter a single word and walk through the apartment like you’re haunting it; from bed to the living room to the kitchen, unaware or uncaring of Nolan’s presence. Others, you’re out the door as soon as you’re physically able, disappearing for hours on end, phone off to Nolan’s alarmed dismay.

He calls Liv, Cragen, Munch, anyone who knows you and has the resources to pull a nation wide man hunt until he realizes you always come back and it’s better to welcome you than drive you away by asking questions. Those conversations usually lead to one of you sleeping on the couch and your injuries are still a little too tender for Nolan to let you pass the night on that old thing. 

One night he leaves the bedroom for a glass of water and finds you standing in front of the open window in just your pajamas. The air is chilly and your skin is covered in goosebumps, but it’s the look on your face that scares Nolan the most. 

“Honey,” Nolan, bleary and confused, comes up behind you. You don’t even flinch. It wakes him up quicker than anything else ever has. Saying your name urgently, he wonders, “What are you doing? It’s freezing.”

“It’s fine,” you say, detached, not even there. You blink, staring dazedly into the night. You don’t snap out of it as he leads you back into your room. 

When he asks you about it the following morning you just stare at him, blank-faced, without a single memory of the event. 

To no one’s surprise, Dr. Masters gently refuses to sign your discharge papers after two months of leave and therapy sessions. Cragen takes one look at you and caves, albeit hesitantly, to reinstate you to a desk job as long as you follow the mandated breaks to talk about your feelings in an office that smells too much like lavender and vanilla.

You hate it. Absolutely abhor it. Dr. Masters, just like everyone else, wants you to talk about the shooting and nothing else. It doesn’t matter that your memory betrays you, keeping the event locked away in some faraway corner of your mind. According to her, refusing to acknowledge it is refusing to heal from it.

It leaves you short-fused. Home is a few curt words of polite conversation before you begin to snap, annoyed at Nolan’s placid attitude. Even the squad begins to lose their patience, you find yourself in Cragen’s office more often than not, glowering like a kid sent to the principal.

“Talk to me,” is all he says, not we’ve already been too lenient with you or shouldn’t you be over it by now? because he genuinely cares about you, which warms and enrages you all at once. 

“What,” you say, purposely dense, arms crossed defensively.

“You’re biting heads off out there like you’re a suspect for a crime,” Cragen replies, no-nonsense. “You’re not in trouble here, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s not on me that no one gets shit done around here,” you lean back against the chair, tense shoulders and sweaty hands. “We wouldn’t be so slammed if you all worried about me a little less. I’m fine.”

“Right,” Cragen says, waiting you out. 

“You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me,” you continue, rough. “You can’t hurt me. I’m not gonna break, Cap.”

“Everyone keeps asking what I need– I need everyone to stop looking at me like I’m dead,” you say rushedly. You’ve started now and can’t bring yourself to stop. “I breathe a little funny and they’re on me, wanting to– to make me tea and give me casseroles that won’t fit in my fridge and ask me how I’ve been sleeping, I don’t need that shit–”

Cragen hums knowingly. Then, after a silence:

“How’s Nolan?” 

You huff. “Fine. Fine, he’s always fine. Always looking for something to do. He’s cooked more these past few months than in our entire marriage, you know?”

“He’s only trying to help–”

“I know,” you snap. Cragen only stares as you pull yourself together, filled with everloving patience. It’s why he called you in, not to reprimand or punish but to let you breathe without people accusing you of doing it wrong. 

“I know,” you say again after several exhales, closing your eyes and tilting your head towards the ceiling, avoiding his eye. “Just because he’s trying doesn’t mean it’s working.”

“Have you thought of telling him that?”

“Sure,” you snort. “‘Hey, honey, can you not ask me how my day went? I zoned out for thirty minutes at my desk and picked at my scar until I snapped myself out of it.’”

“There’s help for that, you know,” Cragen says. “I heard they call it therapy, these days.”

“Name it, I’m on it,” you reply, smiling wryly. “Physical, for anxiety, for PTSD. I should get a goddamned discount.”

The Captain doesn’t laugh. Neither had any of your therapists, for that matter. 

“I don’t want to be like this,” you continue after a moment of silence, unsure if you’re allowed, but Cragen only nods. Decades on the job have made him wise beyond his years, sometimes even to his own detriment. “You– I know what you’re all thinking–”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“–but I don’t–” your breath hitches. “If I could be over it already, I would. This isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you.”

“No one thinks badly of you for reacting to something that happened to you,” he tells you, and it’s so close to absolution you could cry right here in front of him with all your coworkers at the other side of the door. You didn’t know it was something you were seeking. 

“I can see how they look at me,” you say, quiet. “I know what they want, who they want. I just can’t give it to them.”

“What do you want?” he uses your first name and it disarms something inside of you. It’s an innocent enough question, but it reaches for your lungs and squeezes mercilessly.

“I want it to stop,” the niceties, people explaining your own PTSD to you. The racing thoughts, the breathlessness, the chest pains you haven’t been able to get rid of even if the doctor says there’s nothing wrong with you anymore. Not physically. 

You sigh and it comes out shaky. Your eyes burn. “I just want everything to stop.”

Two days later, you mistakenly say this to your therapist, who throws the question back to you with interest. “What do you mean by that? What needs to stop?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, infinitely more annoyed than when you’d been talking about this with Cragen. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe you do know. And that’s what scares you, what has you lashing out over the simplest innocent things. Think about that.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to do all of the work here? I thought you said this was a partnership.”

Dr. Masters sighs, keeping careful watch over her exasperation. She writes something down, tries again.

You leave the sessions sans any breakthroughs but with enough recommendations to implement at home in hopes of finding normalcy in your marriage once more. 

Try doing something together, the suggestion has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Have a movie night or breakfast together before work, host dinners with friends. Make your home yours again, is what I mean.

You try. It’s not a relaxing endeavor. God knows your work schedules suck even now that you’re both working half time, tempers gone through the shredder more than once. Still, you mention it to Liv and she suggests a double date kind of thing, and suddenly you’ve got a full dining table while a migraine inside your temples builds and builds and builds and–

“How you holdin’ up?” Brian asks casually, cutting off your racing thoughts like a record scratching. Your hands tighten around your fork and knife as you swallow down the urge to scream that washes over you at the question. 

You think about the sleepless nights and the anger that comes out of nowhere, the inexplicable lack of patience directed at Nolan despite loving him more than anything else. You wonder if Brian would understand, having been shot before. If this is a good as any place to let everything out.

The thought fades as soon as it forms.

“Working on it,” you shrug simply. “Everything hurts and therapy’s a bitch. You know what it’s like.”

Brian snorts. “Fuck yeah, I do. Last time I went down I was so restless, Liv was gonna shoot me herself.”

“Hey now,” Liv says, but she’s smiling behind her wine and has a hand on Cassidy’s knee that inches slightly higher as she teases him. “I will say, going to work sounded like a dream just to get out of the house. You’re get better, though.” 

“Hey, anything for the time off, I guess,” you say faux-brightly, a cynical twist of your lips that resembles a smile. “Next time I’ll make sure they shoot me somewhere less tedious, though.”

Brian scoffs and Liv shakes her head, but no one laughs. Nolan clears his throat after an awkward pause, obviously upset. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and leaves it gently on the table as he stands, avoiding your eye. “Excuse me.”

He walks away and closes the bedroom door gently behind him, the living room falling into uneasy silence. You pipe up with dark humor, “You think I’d get more time of if I was stabbed?”

The fight after Liv and Brian leave is a massive, unavoidable bloodbath. 

There’s relief in the heat of it all, in a fucked up way. All the pent up agression you’ve been harboring finally has an opponent, even if Nolan doesn’t know he’s bringing knives to a gunfight.

“I hate when you say things like that and you know it–”

“It was a joke, Nolan, for Christ's sake–”

“Well, it’s not funny. For none of us, Liv was there with you in the ambulance and I–”

“Oh, please, tell me how I ruined your life by almost dying,” you scoff, goading. “Please, honey, the floor is yours.”

“Stop,” he says, firm, but his voice wobbles, and his eyes fill up with tears. You hate the sight of him like this and you hate to be the one who causes it. Still, the part of you aching for chaos, for emotion, can’t help but to press at the bruise. “I’m not doing this, I’m not having this argument with you.”

“You don’t have any arguments with me!” you exclaim in disbelief. Nolan purses his mouth in discontent and look away. “You tell me how to feel, what to do, what this whole thing has been like but the second I try to have an actual conversation it’s like your eyes glaze over and you’re fucking gone–”

“You don’t know what it was like for me,” Nolan snaps, tear stained cheeks glittering against the warm light of the bedroom. He hasn’t stopped crying ever since you came home. You hear him sometimes when he locks himself in his office or in the bathroom in the middle of the night. “Getting Liv’s call, the hospital, watching you like that–”

“This didn’t happen to you, Nolan!” you scream. The world has taken a sharper edge after the shooting, and all you can do is attack it likewise. “I laid in my own blood hoping someone would notice I was gone. I wasted away in the hospital for weeks, I am living a life where not a damn thing is right!”

“I’m drowning here,” your voice breaks, losing all its volume and vehemence. “And all everyone keeps telling me is how they feel about it, how I’m supposed to be getting better. I’m not. I’m not, Nolan. For the love of God, can we make this about me for half a second?”

“You,” Nolan begins, but it gets caught up in his throat, dissolves into nothing before you can hear what it is. Nolan shakes his head, adamant. “I’m not doing this.” He gathers his things all while you desperately call his name. The door closing behind him echoes through the apartment not unlike a gunshot in your ear.

That same week, Nolan goes to therapy.

He doesn’t tell you about it, just like he hasn’t told you about the past couple of months worth of sessions. He doesn’t tell anyone, actually. It starts when a victim’s husband loses it mid trial and lounges at her killer right in front of God, the judge and a panicking Nolan. He’s sure he conceals his feelings well, yet his boss takes one look at him and stops by his office at the end of the day.

“Someone recommended him to me,” he says while Nolan traces the dark blue letters of the contact card he just handed him. “I haven’t been to him in years, but he’s good. If you don’t think he can help you then I’m sure he’ll find you someone who can.”

“I–” Nolan begins and leaves it at that. It’s such a quietly kind thing to do for him that it renders him speechless. 

“It can’t be easy,” he continues when Nolan doesn’t, endlessly patient, oddly personal. “What she went through, what you’re going through. I’m sure you’re both doing the best you can, but if you ever feel like you need more, well. It’s good to have options available.”

Everything that’s been offered the last few months; the casseroles and the rides to work, home, the hospital, a shoulder to cry on– it’s all been about you, for you. Nolan appreciates it but there’s something conditional about the whole thing, like he’s not worthy of help unless it’s somehow related to his wife. 

He loves you. By God, he loves you with everything there’s in him to the point of ruin, but this– this is for him. His boss is offering him a lifeguard he so desperately needs, and it has both everything and nothing to do with you. He gets to be selfish about this one thing, and the thrill of it drowns out the guilt he feels about leaving you in the dark. 

“Thanks,” he says, choked. Nolan clears his throat, hoping it comes out with at least some of the gratitude he’s feeling. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

The older man smiles, already at the door and saying his goodbyes. “See you tomorrow, Nolan.”

So Nolan goes to therapy. His first time on Dr. Rhymes’ couch he begins to weep before he can introduce himself. When he resurfaces from his grief, the man is offering him a box of tissues without a hint of judgement in his gaze. 

He gets now why you come back frustrated more times than not after a session. It’s like pulling teeth, no matter how badly he knows he needs it. But it helps more than he hoped it would and the nightmares about your death slowly lose some of its gore. His once rusted instincts coming back to its brilliance in court after a week’s worth of full night’s rest. 

He gets better. Starts to, anyways, but not you. In your dreams, you still bleed and bleed and bleed.

No one comes to get you. Liv misses the alleyway and chases after the perp, Nolan doesn’t call to wonder when you’re coming home, your gut pulsates with pain until there’s nothing but numbness, nothing but darkness, nothing left of you.

You wake up and don't know where you are. Your flail is purely instinctive, and despite the sharp pain that pulls at your chest you do so again, eyesight blurry, panic rising sharp and quick. Your entire body’s on fire but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because you don’t know where you are and the perp is getting away, and Liv is still blocks away and, and, and, and–

Bleeding. You’re bleeding, bleeding out and your radio’s too far away and you can see the perp running but can’t hear his steps, there’s only your heartbeat echoing in your ears and the wet taste of death in your mouth as the world fades to black around you–

Sometimes you wake up from nightmares so quietly that Nolan doesn’t notice. Your eyes are closed and then they’re not and that’s all the movement your body can produce even if your heart is hammering against your ribcage. Other nights– nights like this one– you’re drenched in sweat and sprinting to the bathroom before your stomach returns the dinner you ate mere hours ago.

You hear Nolan fussing in the bedroom and picture him as clear as day in your mind; hair rumpled from sleep and eyes bleary, creased pajamas and worry lines on his features like he was supposed to grow into them. And he’s looking for you. Always, always looking for you.

You hate doing this to him but you hate having to go through it alone more. When you feel a cool, protective hand soothe up and down your back where your shirt sticks to your skin, you sob through your gags. 

Nolan only says let it out, honey, I’ve got you, just let it go in different variations until the panic subsides. You focus on the timber of his voice, the roughness of sleep coating his vowels and the tilt of his consonants. 

The bathroom tile is rough against your knees and your mouth tastes like acid, arms shaking with the effort of keeping you upright against the toilet seat. When you’re done, you fall back to the floor and Nolan is there next to you, ready to catch you. 

He cradles you almost like one would a baby and you nestle against his chest, exhausted. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak against his heartbeat. Nolan’s hand finds the sweaty nape of your neck and massages the tension out of it, hairs sticking to his fingers. 

His soothing reply is automatic but no less honest. “It’s alright. It’s just a dream.”

“Not for this,” you correct, panting against his cotton grey shirt and reaching to hold it in a tight, shaky fist. “I mean– yes, for this, but for before. Everything. In the hospital and for fighting, for not… For everything. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Don’t be,” he defends, awfully vehement for a man who’s been awake for less than 10 minutes and is sitting on his bathroom floor at 4 in the morning. It’s the most emotion he’s shown since your last fight and you could weep with the relief it brings you. “Never be. You’re in pain. I’m allowed to want to help you when you’re in pain.”

“I’m tired of being in pain.”

Nolan’s chest shudders and you unclench your fist to lay your palm against it, the beat of his heart fluttering despite his calm demeanor. He shifts his hand to brush his thumb against your cheek, calming. “I know, honey. I know.”

He doesn’t say it’s okay or it’ll get better because as much as you know Nolan hopes so, it’s not the kind of thing he can promise. You wouldn’t want him to. 

The sun rises through the horizon. Nolan holds you, holds you, and holds you. 

“It’s stupid,” you say against your hands, hours later in your emergency session with Dr. Masters, wet and high-pitched. “It’s so fucking stupid.”

You don't elaborate. She  gently goads. “What is?”

“It’s so simple,” your voice drips with disbelief, muscles coiled tight. “It’s so– it was one bullet. One second, and I’m– I can’t let it go. Why can’t I let it go?”

No answer, but you don’t need it. You’re already on a roll. “I’m okay. I’m alright, I recovered. I have my job and my husband and my life back then why am I like this? Why–”

Your voice breaks, a sign of weakness you’re done trying to hide. “Do I not want it? To get better, do I not want it enough? What am I doing wrong?”

“You have to understand, this isn’t something you did,” she sighs, leaving her notebook and pen to lean in closer. “Are you listening to me? This is something that happened to you, not because of you. Healing isn’t linear, isn’t that what you always say to the victims you encounter at work–”

You sniff, sharply wiping at your nose. “Yes, but–”

“But it’s different,” she finishes for you, leaning back against her seat. “Why? Because it’s you? Because you know better since you’re a cop? Because you’re not allowed any moment of weakness in the face of adversity?”

You’re rendered quiet, almost but not quite pouting after being called out so thoroughly. Masters continues. “You keep punishing yourself for reacting to trauma in an unpredictable way. Even that in itself is predictable. There’s no rulebook for this.”

“I know,” you say like you’ve done so many times since this whole thing started, but this is different. It’s not angry or sarcastic. It feels like a tipping point.

“This happened to you. You didn’t chose it,” your therapist says. Then, carefully, like she too is aware you’re on the cusp of something that you might be, finally, ready to hear. “But what you do with it– that is up to you.”

“You got handed this ugly, terrible thing,” she continues. “It’s yours now. And you can let it take over your life or you can take it in your hands and mold it into something you can live with.”

“That’s awful,” you say; tired, honest, terrified. Why should it be up to you? Why is it your job to fix what someone else broke? Master smiles. 

“It is. It’s all work,” you say. “At least at first. And then, piece by piece, you make a life with the fragments from before. You get new ones. It’s not gonna be the same, but it’ll be yours. But work. It’s the only way out.” 

It’s all work. 

The session hollows you from the inside out and the day at the office is a blur. You get home much, much later, weary and exhausted. The sun is already deep behind the horizon and your head is filled with statistics and suspect heights, ethnicities, possible sightings…

Your eyes hurt and Nolan is already in bed, bent over his book with his glasses perched low on his nose. A lifetime ago he would’ve joked they made him look old, and you would kiss him senseless until they went askew and tell him he looked distinguished. It’s such an old, nice memory, both distant and right there for the taking. You get a little breathless just thinking about it. 

He looks up to greet you when he hears you come in, tired but genuine. You think mold it into something you can live with and make a decision. 

“Hey,” he welcomes you. “How was work?”

“I…” whatever your apprehension is, you visibly shake it off before focusing on Nolan with a sense of determination he hasn’t seen from you in a very, very long time. “I would like you to come with me. To therapy.”

“You… would?” he hates that he sounds so surprised. He places his book on the bedside table, taking his glasses off. 

You look as uncomfortable as he feels, but aren’t backing down. You lessen the chasm between you, sitting on your side of the bed and laying your palm flat on the sheets. Realization hits Nolan like a slap to the face. 

Here you are, the strange shape that is his wife after hell and back, reaching. 

“I think… there are so many things I want to tell you,” you continue slowly, the way you do when you’ve rehearsed before speaking in court as a witness, presenting the case. “that I don’t know how. And so many things you have to say that I haven’t… wanted to hear.”

“But I’m ready,” you nod, grave. “To put in the work. Or– I want to be. And I’d– I’d like you to be with me, when I am.”

“We can go to Dr. Masters or– or I’m sure there’s some names she can draw up. Couples therapy,” you rush to say when Nolan doesn’t answer, desperate for his support. “Or– I mean, maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with that, but I was really hoping we could–”

“Okay,” it comes out quiet. His nod, though, is resolute. “Yeah.”

You blink, a little startled and hesitatingly hopeful. “You– Yeah?”

“Yes. Okay. Yes, of course.”

“Okay,” you say, relieved, as if he’d ever say no to you. You laugh a little, deflating, running a hand through your hair. “Jesus, okay. Okay.”

A beat, two. Then you say, fragile as a baby bird, breaking the silence. “I’ve been so unfair to you.”

That finally gets him moving. He says your name, devastated. He opens up his arms, surer than he’s been in months. “Come here.”

You sigh out heavily, shakily. Standing, you move to his side of the bed and fall into his arms, work clothes and all. 

“We’re alright,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I love you. I’m coming with you. We’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize anyways, crying into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, too,” his voice breaks and his arms tighten. There’s a kiss pressed to your hair that only makes you cry harder. “I’m so sorry, honey, for so many things. But we’re gonna be okay.”

It’s all, all work. 

…Mostly.

“The files are on my desk,” Nick nods dutifully as you rattle off instructions, making sure your hair isn’t messed up by your coat. “Fin knows my notes backwards and forwards, if he tries to convince you he doesn’t it’s because he’s lazy, and I already let Cap know–”

Nick laughs, saying your last name knowingly. “It’s okay. Everything’s set, there’s nothing you’ve forgotten. Go have fun for once, will you?”

“Yeah, let us live vicariously through you,” Rollins pipes up as she passes by, an overflowing evidence box in her arms. “I’d kill for a hot date with a hotter lawyer right now.”

“You’d bite his head off before the appetizers came in,” Amaro smirks at her cockily, and you roll your eyes when Rollins predictably rises to the challenge. Behind them, Fin stares at them like he’s regretting all the life choices that led him to work with these people. 

“You know what, Bernardo–” Rollins begins.

“Speaking of the devil,” Much pipes up loudly before Rollins starts humming the notes to the West Side Story score at Nick. You shoot him a grateful look but your attention is soon refocused on Nolan, who looks tall and sharp as he enters the precinct. “Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, old man. Hey, everyone,” Nolan smiles as he greets everyone else, though it turns shy when he acknowledges you, suddenly unaware of the rest of the room. “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, handsome,” you can’t help yourself, feeling young and foolish. “You look good.”

“Had to match you, didn’t I?” he gives you a once over, long and interested, and you’re so into it you can’t even hear your coworkers making fun of you. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready,” you wave everyone goodbye and then, as soon as you’re out of ear shot, you admit sheepishly, “I’m actually a little nervous. Is that weird?”

Nolan’s laugh is tender, relieved. “No,” he says, looking more relaxed by the admission with his arm poised while you loop your own around it, keeping him close. “I am, too. I haven’t felt like this since you kissed me for the first time.”

“I’m sorry, I kissed you?” you reply. “I very vividly remember being cut off mid sentence about serious crimes punishable by law because someone couldn’t help himself.”

“Our study sessions always were interesting,” Nolan agrees, grin boyish. “Ivery vividly don’t remember hearing you complain about it.”

“Only that it took you so long to do it,” you quip.

“Well,” he tells you as you go into the empty elevator and the doors close behind you, already drawing you in. “Who am I to keep you waiting now?”

Some other weekend, the day is bright and gorgeous and neither you nor Nolan are able to to stay in. You move your slow weekend routines out of the apartment for once, going out for brunch and bringing reading material that doesn't involve case files or suspects statements for once. 

You walk around the city with a wonder rarely available to you lately and hold each other close. Halfway through the afternoon Nolan disappears across the street in search of your favorite coffee cart, telling you to stay put with a loud kiss to your cheek that leaves you giddy long after he’s gone.

“Hey, sorry,” he says breathlessly when he comes back, carefully keeping both coffees from overflowing. “They had to make a fresh pot just now.”

“‘s alright,” you say after a beat, smiling at him with an unusual shape to your mouth. It makes Nolan pause. 

He asks, endearingly concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s–” you begin and then cut yourself off. You look around, calculating. You shake your head, hoping to drop it. “No. Sorry. I just thought–”

Your breaths come out short despite your best tries to keep the previous atmosphere going. Nolan places the coffees on the sidewalk and stands back up, already reaching. He tries to keep his tone even. Calm. “Honey. Is it okay if I touch you?”

“You– yeah,” you blink, almost surprised to see him. The words rush out of you with relief, like you weren’t sure you still had it in you to be verbal. “Yes, please. Please.”

“Come here,” it’s a relief to him too, both your answer and permission. He draws you in with a protective hand on your back and you shudder into the touch, breathing in and out slowly like Dr. Masters taught you. “Great, you’re doing great. I got you.”

“Sorry,” you says again after a while, back in your body. “I thought it was the street where…” you admit. You’re embarrassed, Nolan doesn’t have to see your face to know it. “For a second, I. I saw the alley and it’s– it was literally just that but I was sure…”

You don’t finish your sentence, drifting off, but Nolan knows you too well. Understanding dawns in and he holds you tighter, protective. The perfectly harmless landscape of the city suddenly shifts before his eyes and he starts to panic. He can’t get you out of here fast enough, but maybe if he tries… an Uber would probably be quicker than walking home…

“Nolan,” you cut off his racing thoughts, oddly comforted by the fact that you’re not alone in your freak out, even if Nolan has been rendered useless by his own agitation. “It’s okay. I was wrong, it’s not the street. I’m good.”

“We can go,” he offers, terribly disappointed that your day is about to be cut short but willing to do that and more for your wellbeing. This? In the grand scheme of things this is nothing. You were gonna spend today in bed anyways. “Or– is there something you need, do you want to call–”

“I want to stay,” you say, sure, cupping his face. Your touch helps him breathe, unclogs his throat and opens up his lungs. “I want to be here with you. I want to keep living my life even with… this. It doesn’t get to win.”

Nolan’s eyes burn, but his grin is too big for his face. He kisses you, long and deep and careless of who’s watching. It’s New York, its streets have seen far worse things than a man knee deep in love with his wife. “It doesn’t get to win,” he affirms, catching his breath. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You grin, shaky, bright. “You’ve told me so once or twice.”

Hand on hand, you pass by the alley. The day is beautiful.  

One night Nolan gets out of the bathroom to find you already in bed, frowning at your book. He passes a towel through his wet hair as he asks, “Is it any good?”

You only keep frowning. “It’s– I mean, yeah, but I. I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Have I read this before?” you ask him, showing him the cover. 

Nolan squints, mouthing the words, then his expression clears. “Oh, I know. Did Munch give it to you?”

“Yeah,” you sound surprised. You hadn’t told him about John’s offhand gift, a tattered copy of a book he lent to you the other week. “ How’d you know?”

“He was reading it to you,” Nolan begins, then shrugs and seems to hesitate before he continues. “At the hospital.”

You make a face like you just tasted something sour. “Oh.”

“A part of you must’ve heard,” he continues, softer, searching your face for signs to shut the hell up. Other than the initial realization, he finds only pensiveness. “Must remember.”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of days so far away and so present still, sometimes laying between you in bed. “It’d be silly, wouldn’t it? That my brain chose to retain bits of a book I heard while unconscious rather than… you know.”

Nolan breathes in deeply, holds it, and lets it out. He tries feeling comfortable in the silence you’ve built as he thinks his words through. His therapist told him once that if he expected a fight to start out of a conversation then he’d start fighting before he realized what he was doing. He’s trying to be better.

“What do you remember?” he dares to ask. You tilt your head towards your lap, fingers running over the edges of the book to ground yourself in the movements. “About the hospital?”

Your smile is brittle and you don’t look at him when you say, “I didn’t even remember what had happened at first.”

“When I first woke up after– after. I still don’t, mostly,” He watches you, patient and encouraging even when you can’t meet his eye. “Like, you know what happened. I got shot and spent weeks in there, but I don’t– It’s pretty much a blur.”

You sigh deeply. “But I woke up and I was afraid anyways. Like my body caught up to the situation before my mind did and I just– I was in pain, and I needed to get out,” you retell. 

There’s barely a memory there; of Nolan’s hand in yours and the sheer relief in his voice, the smell and sounds of a hospital that are too familiar in your line of work. 

“Sometimes,” you begin, and that’s where you cut yourself off, turning to him and smiling, fixing the facade back on. Nolan rushes to stop you before you completely hide from him, cupping your face tenderly.

You meet his eye and you look afraid. Nolan can’t blame you, it hasn’t been long since he stopped physically fleeing the room whenever you even hinted at the shooting. But he stays rooted in his spot, even if just to prove you both wrong. 

“Sometimes?” he goads, braver than he feels. You look at him intensely for what feels a very long time, then begin to relax against his touch.

“Sometimes,” you say, slowly, like you’re still expecting him to make an excuse and leave you to your feelings. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still there,” you admit, lip wobbling. “Just. Lying there. Waiting for someone to find me. To realize something’s not right.”

Nolan’s throat closes off. You’re not talking about the hospital, he realizes as his stomach drops. You’re talking about the alleyway. 

“It’s what I dream about, usually,” you sniff. Talking about the nightmare is better than having it, but it makes you nauseous nevertheless. You breathe in and out, deeply, a couple of times before you find your words again. “I’m lying there and it takes forever for someone to find me. Sometimes no one ever does and I wake up thinking I haven’t left that alley.”

That’s where Nolan’s perspective comes into view. He watches you wake, though only sometimes because there are nights in which you refuse to bother him despite how adamant he’s been about waking him up when you need him. He watches you wake and draws you back from the metaphorical cliff into his arms and your bed. 

You’d never told him about the dreams. This is definitely a first.

He does his best to breathe, to keep eye contact. He meant it, the silent vow he made to himself when you came forward and asked him to go to therapy together. He’s through running away from this. If he keeps leaving you every time you feel like this, what makes him any different than the man who left you in that alley, fighting for your life?

He does his best. “I don’t know if I can help,” he admits shamefully, out loud for the first time but for the thousandth time to himself. “But I’m here.”

You shudder with a sniff. Shifting closer to him, Nolan takes your weight effortlessly, like this is what he was meant for. That, he’s never doubted. 

“We found you,” he continues, a comfort that works for him as he hopes works for you. “We brought you home. I know exactly where you are.”

You lose the fight and bury your face in his shoulder, shaking in Nolan’s arms for a long, long time. Crying, he can tell, but quietly. He doesn’t tell you to be loud about it if you want to. He’s done telling you how to live through your grief.

“I kept thinking of you,” you admit later, much later, into his shirt. Nolan closes his eyes, wrecked. “Of who would call you, or if you… If you’d have to… to come claim a body.”

You feel him tighten his grip around you. 

“You were the first thing I recognized,” you continue, quiet. You’re toying with his shirt, soothing your fingers over the soft, worn fabric. “When I woke up, amidst all that panic, there was you.”

You huff a laugh against him, breath warm. “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you for that lately. Calming me down. You’ve always been good at that.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing much,” he admits shamefully. 

He feels the way you shake your head, unwavering in your truth. “You do everything. You’re everything.”

“Right back at you, honey,” he says, and you hold each other for a very long time. 

Halfway through getting your life back, almost nine months after the shooting that shattered your life to the ground, the team finds and collars the perp.

The same gun he used on you shows up in CODIS for another recent crime and you get a warning text from Fin less than ten minutes before he walks in with the suspect. Rollins is stone-faced by his side, both of them holding on to him despite his very obvious lack of struggle. 

He barely even looks at you before he’s glancing away, bored. You remain unrecognizable to him but his features spark a flash of awareness deep in your unconscious and you’re excuse yourself to go dry heave in a bathroom while he gets processed. 

Your thumb shakes over the screen of your phone, right on top of Nolan’s contact. You should just call him, you know it. You’ve done it before, and your husband would cross the city during rush hour and bend time to his will just to be by your side and hold you through the panic. 

You know, but you can’t. You’ve been doing so good lately, finally; after the year from hell your lives are finally getting a glimpse of normalcy, and this– this is a Setback. Capital S setback, and after everything you’ve put him through… God, you can’t keep doing this to him.

You won’t do this to him. You call your therapist instead and hate every single second of it, hate even more that it works; forty minutes on the phone with her and you exit the bathroom with bloodshot eyes but with your chin held high and hands steady. 

Amaro is the first to notice you and he catches your stare immediately, but he only nudges a tower of paperwork from his desk to yours and says, “You snooze, you lose, partner.”

“Dick,” you answer, your voice only a bit nasal. You’re so incredibly thankful for him that you could weep again right there and then. 

You sit to get back to work, perp nowhere in sight, and bite the inside of your cheek in thought before you pull your phone back out, sending some rapid-fire texts. 

Hey

I love you

You sigh and leaf through the papers, looking for where to start. Working through an equally ridiculous amount of files in his office across the city, Nolan’s eyebrows lift in curiosity at your  texts.

I love you too

Is everything alright?

The three dots signifying your reply appear and disappear over the course of a few moments. After a while, his phone chimes again. 

Rough day. Just wanted the reminder.

But I’m okay, I promise. 

I’ll tell you all about it at home tonight.

Nolan sighs out slowly, and trusts you. Because of it, he watches you grow into your own skin again. 

Your visits to Dr. Masters get less and less frequent and the damned paper finally gets signed. The nightmares, though not gone, lessen and don’t make you sick to your stomach anymore as you trace Nolan’s features in the dark to soothe yourself back into a slumber. You tell him everything, become more lenient with your resurfacing memories and in return, you hold Nolan as he talks about those days at the hospital and cries until he physically can’t anymore. 

It’s so familiar and so, so new. You’re who you’ve always been and yet Nolan finds himself staring at you sometimes, amazed at the differences– a woman reshaped entirely by trauma and victorious over it nevertheless. Victorious because of it.

When you drag him away from the kitchen sink where dirty dishes sit after dinner, he barely puts up a fight. Nolan eagerly follows you to the couch and sinks into your embrace when you tangle your fingers in his hair, shivering against your welcoming touch.

You’re making out like teenagers– like you used to when you were in college– with no specific purpose until Nolan starts to forget himself. His hands are around your waist, squeezing unconsciously while you, on top of him, swallow his sound of elation and run your tongue along his teeth, wet and dirty. 

Jesus, Nolan thinks unabashedly, and wants, wants, wants–

He nudges his leg between your thighs, pants uncomfortably tight, when you call his name. You’re pulling away suddenly, bringing him back from a daze, a hand tangled in his hair. Your fingers twitch with restraint as you look him over, pensive.

Nolan sighs, leaning his temple against yours and trying to get his breathing back into a less agitated rhythm. All he gets is a whisk of your perfume and the warmth of your skin, his efforts useless. 

“Right,” he murmurs, voice velvet quiet. He’s still trying to preserve the moment even after your new set of boundaries. “Right. I’m sorry.”

You haven’t gone that far since– Since. Nolan can’t recall the details of the last time you were together, one random night the week you were shot. He didn’t think he’d have to, but now he wishes he had committed the night to memory; your skin under his hands, the sounds you made, how you reached bliss together–

“Don’t be,” you say equally as lowly, pupils blown, gaze ardent. “I want…”

You drift off. It’s suddenly urgent, imperative that Nolan knows what you’re asking for, needs to give it to you immediately.

“What?” he murmurs back, thumbing at your bottom lip, bruised and kissed. Your breath is hot against his skin. “What, honey, what do you want? What can I do?”

“Kiss me again,” You say. Then, before he can comply– “Don’t– don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

“You…” Nolan says, shaking his head to pull himself together, attention still hazy around the edges. Your name tastes so sweet when he says it. “You mean…”

“Please,” you whine, and Nolan’s body reacts to the sound all on its own, hips subtly canting up towards you. You press your mouth to his jaw, tongue barely caressing the skin. “Please, Nole, please keep touching me.”

Nolan curses, both at your words and the realization he might not last as long as he’d like if you keep saying these things to him. “Sweetheart. Oh, are you sure?”

Your breath hitches. “God, Nolan, more than anything else.”

“Come on. Come here,” Nolan insists, turning to kiss you so thoroughly he almost forgets the point he’s trying to make. “I’m gonna do this right, okay? We have a perfectly good bed in the other room–”

He scrambles up and takes your hand, taking you with him. You surrender to him and he kisses your hand, the crook of your elbow, your shoulder and neck, in a rush and yet wanting to make this last as long as possible. 

You laugh amidst your urgency, rich and lovely, cupping his face and kissing him soundly, rubbing against him. Nolan is a weak, weak man. 

“I love you,” you say while he buries himself inside you later in bed, sheets pooled around the both of you, and looking up at him like you can’t believe he’s real. Nolan’s on top of you and he’s got your fingers tangled together; your hands pinned against the sides of your face. They’re points of steadiness as the tension inside him threatens to snap with each thrust, however small. “I love you, Nole, I love you so much–”

He’s not ashamed to say he’s crying when he finally comes, and you cup his face in your hands with a wounded sound when you realize. You kiss him as you finally let yourself go and it tastes like victory. Like work; like blood, sweat and tears. It feels like being yourself, added scars and all, Nolan’s warmth a steady, sure thing against your side. 

started this over a year ago and it's finally yours!!! sorry i've been so absent, i've been having the worst writer's block of my life lol but i hope you love this as much as i do! let me know what you think and i hope you see more from me in the next months! thanks for reading <3

[squigglypatties]

Sequel. or something. probably not a sequel, just another version.

w.c: 391

c.c: 2,250+

Young Satoru Gojo always followed you around like a shadow. Despite being only 10 years old, he had a confidence and charm that most kids his age lacked. He'd often proclaim his affection boldly.

"One day, [Reader], I'll grow up and you'll see. I'll be the strongest, and I'll make you fall for me," Satoru would say with a cheeky grin.

You'd laugh and pat his head, finding his declarations adorable but childish. "Sure, Satoru, I'll be waiting," you’d reply, treating his words as mere antics of a child.

You hadn't seen Satoru in years. Life had taken you in different directions, but fate had a funny way of bringing people back together. Now, a respected Jujutsu Sorcerer yourself, you were summoned to Jujutsu High for a special mission briefing.

Walking through the corridors, memories of the past flooded back. The familiar grounds, the faces of old friends, and, unexpectedly, a towering figure with white hair and a blindfold caught your attention.

"Is that... Satoru?" you whispered to yourself, almost in disbelief.

He turned, as if sensing your presence. The moment his eyes met yours, a wide grin spread across his face. "Well, well, if it isn’t [Name]. Long time no see."

You were taken aback. The boy who used to follow you around had grown into a tall, striking young man, exuding an aura of confidence and power. "Satoru...! you've changed."

He chuckled, walking towards you with a swagger that spoke volumes of his growth and achievements. "Told you I'd grow up. What do you think? Do I stand a chance now?"

You laughed, a bit flustered by his forwardness but also impressed. "You've certainly grown, but you're still the same Satoru at heart."

"Maybe so, but I did become the strongest, just like I promised," he said, his tone more serious. "And I still mean what I said back then."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination that had always been there, now even more pronounced. "You've always been persistent, I'll give you that."

"Persistence pays off," he said, taking your hand. "Let's catch up. There's so much I want to share with you."

As you walked together, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement. Perhaps the little boy with big dreams had finally grown into the man who could make them a reality.

Another version

[rorywritesjunk]

Master Post

Hullo! I am Rory. I write about Buggy from One Piece and One Piece Live Action. I decided to cobble a list of things. Unless otherwise specified, the fics can be read as either Anime Buggy or Live Action Buggy. Also I really like using song lyrics as titles so that's a thing. (Also my main account is @thehohwitch)

Requests are open as of 8/16/24!

Rules: No s-xual assault, *ncest, cheating, or age big age gaps (at least within a five year difference) things like that. I primarily write F reader with Buggy but I'm happy to write male as well, as well as nonbinary and trans. I don't do descriptions unless asked. I will also write for girl Buggy, just ask!

Also, if I am not vibing with a request, I will decline it, however I will also give it up to three attempts before deciding on it.

Also, please do not message me asking me to commission you for art. It is uncomfortable. I'm a friendly person but that is a boundary I don't want crossed. Works are under the cut! (Updated 6/17/24)

For Chapter Fics, please go here! *Fics in that link feature my OCs Sunny, Cupcake, and Birdie, as well as anything that is several chapters.

For one-shots, look below the cut!

Buggy is the Ultimate Girl Dad Headcanons Headcanons pt 1 Headcanons pt 2 (More indepth) Headcanons pt 3 (More!) Lil Buggy's Big Adventure (One-shot) One Shots "Pampering Buggy" PG-13 A fic of you pampering Buggy after he has a frustrating day.

"I won’t treat you like you’re oh so typical" Soft R Buggy wakes you up to help him with his makeup and he sometimes get grabby.

"All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me" Soft R, sequel to "...oh so typical" It was Buggy’s turn to do your makeup.

"I will never ask you for anything, Except to dream sweet of me" PG-ish Look, everyone has some kind of secret. You just didn’t want Buggy to find this one out. "We’ll cry later or cry now, but baby, Heartbreak feels so good" PG-13ish Buggy messes up, there’s a fight, and he realizes how much you mean to him.

"So let’s set out to sea, love, ‘cause you are my medicine" PG-13ish Buggy has another frustrating day so you cook him some comfort food.

"I have seen no other Who compares with you" PG-13. Buggy decides you need your own ‘look’.

"best be prepared to get all that you bargained for" PG to PG-13. Buggy isn’t used to the gentle touch you give him since you joined his crew three months ago.

"there’ll be space for you always in my harmony" PG. Buggy finds out you have a hidden talent. "Home is wherever I’m with you" PG-13ish. You wanted to keep your relationship a secret but Buggy just wants you to join his crew.

"And all of my wildest dreams They just end up with you and me" PG. Richie is a pretty boy, yes he is, but so is Buggy. "I know it’s just a number but you’re the eighth wonder" R-ish. Buggy loves that you have a pair of glasses for every day of the week. "breathe the freezing crystal air, watch my baby crack a smile" G-PGish. You and Buggy agreed on exchanging just one gift for the Winter Solstice, but he’s a pirate and doesn’t follow the rules.

"Suppose I never ever let you Kiss me so sweet" PG-13ish Your healing powers are limited to one person a day but that doesn’t keep Buggy from demanding you heal him. "Dancing kisses on my cheek, it’s the wonders that I seek" PG-13 Buggy just wanted your birthday to go smoothly.

"So hold my hand, I’ll walk with you my dear" PG-13ish It’s the three year anniversary since everything changed in Buggy’s life for the worst.

"Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen" PG-13 You decide to ask Buggy an important question but he has major doubts. "Close my eyes for a while Force from the world a patient smile" PG Buggy says something he regrets to his older sister.

"I don’t blame you for being you But you can’t blame me for hating it". PG. A prank goes wrong, punishment laid out, and an accidental first kiss all in one day for Buggy. (pt 1)

"And I’m just the boy who’s had too many chances" PG. You and Buggy are finding out that becoming a teenager is absolutely terrible. (pt 2, sequel to "I don't blame you")

NSFW One Shots MDNI!

"I’m aiming for full control of this love" NC-17. Buggy has a fantasy that you decide to try involving Mihawk and Sir Crocodile.

"Like lighting when I’m swimming in the sea" R. Buggy never made time for sex until he met you well into his 30’s.

"You’re the only thing I wanna touch" NC-17. Buggy only comes up for air every so often and it’s a beautiful sight.

"You’ve got to promise not to stop when I say when" NC-17. Buggy’s been a bit of a brat today and you’ve had enough. "The stroke of your fingers The scent of your lingers" NC-17. You meet Alvida and get a bit of a crush, and Buggy is a rather supportive boyfriend with that. "If my velocity starts to make you sweat Then just don’t let go" NC-17. Buggy asks to try something new and you’re onboard with it.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Rivals With Benefits | Jey x Black!fem OC (18+)

Description: Jey and Jax disagree on plans for Roman and Iris engagemennt party.

Chapter: 1/5

Face Claim: Ariana Debose.

Warnings: Arguing, Mild Angst, Strong language.

This is set in an AU in which the og bloodline reunited before wrestlemania 40 and Roman retained. This is the Jey x Jax sequel to Swipe Right. As always my stories are NOT about real people and does not reflect their character. While there is not smut in Chapter 1, there will be in others. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. This particular story features Jey as a Daddy Dom (Not Mysterio, you fucking nerds 😂) google if necessary and if this isn't for you, please scroll. You have been warned.

Word count: 1,867

My masterlist can be found here

Iris and Roman sat down with Jax and Jey to discuss the details of their engagement party. They'd decided against the stereotypical Bachlorette and bachelor party and just wanted to have one big gathering. After some discussion, they decided to leave the planning to the two of them, knowing that they could handle it.

However, as soon as they started planning, it became clear that Jax and Jey were not on the same page. They argued about everything from the venue to the guest list to the menu. Just like their first date.

Jax was frustrated with Jey's need to control everything. "Why do you always have to be in charge?" she snapped. "Can't you just trust me to make some decisions for once?"

Jey rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Jax's accusation. "I'm not trying to control anything," he retorted. "I just want things to be perfect, and that includes every little detail."

Jax scoffed, not believing him for a second. "You always have to have everything your way," she retorted. "It's not about perfection, it's about finding a balance and making decisions together."

"Roman will have my head if we fuck this up and upset Iris. You're not bloodline. You don't get it." Jey snapped.

Jax was taken aback by Jey's harsh words, but she refused to back down. "You think I don't care about Iris's happiness? she's my big sister!" she retorted, her voice shaking slightly. "And just because I'm not part of your 'bloodline' doesn't mean I don't understand what it means to be family. you are so full of yourself!"

Jey's face darkened at Jax's comment, his eyes narrowing. "I am full of myself?" he said through gritted teeth. "You're the one who can't seem to get past our first date, even a full year later. You still hold it against me."

Jax clenched her fists, feeling the familiar anger and hurt bubbling up inside her. "Of course I do," she snapped. "You were arrogant and dismissive. You didn't even try to make me feel comfortable."

"I was trying to be a gentleman!" Jey argued back.

Jax let out a derisive laugh. "Oh please," she said sarcastically. "A gentleman doesn't ignore his date's feelings and make her feel like a fool."

Jey's jaw clenched tighter, his anger rising. "You're impossible," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "You never give me a chance to explain myself or make things right. You just assume the worst of me."

"And you never take responsibility for your actions," Jax shot back, her eyes flashing with anger. "You always blame everyone else for everything. I'm sick of it. You want to control everything because you lack control in your professional and family life because you let Roman push you around like a little bitch!"

Jey's face twisted into a snarl at Jax's harsh words. He was used to being pushed around by Roman, but hearing it from Jax felt like a personal attack. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his sides.

Jax crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "Oh, I think I do," she retorted. "You're a yes man, always doing what your lil tribal chief tells you to do. It's like you have no spine or thoughts of your own."

Jey's anger reached its peak. He took a step forward, his body tensed like a coiled spring. "You think you know everything, don't you?" he said, his voice dripping with venom. "But you're just as controlling as I am. You always have to have your way, and when things don't go according to plan, you throw a tantrum like a damn child."

Jax's eyes narrowed, and she met his gaze head-on. "At least I admit it when I'm wrong," she shot back. "You just wallow in your own stubbornness and blame everyone else for your mistakes."

Jax took a deep breath, realizing that they were both getting nowhere with this argument. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself down. When she opened them again, she looked directly at Jey, her expression softening slightly.

"Look. I'm sorry," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I know we have our differences, but we need to work together for this engagement party. Can we just try to put our differences aside and make this work?"

Jey was taken aback by Jax's apology. He wasn't expecting her to back down so easily, but he could see the sincerity in her eyes.

He took a deep breath, letting go of some of his own anger. "I'm sorry too," he said, his voice softer now. "I shouldn't have let our past get in the way of our planning. Let's try to focus on making this engagement party a success."

Jax nodded, relieved that they had managed to reach a truce. "Good," she said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Now, let's go over our ideas again, without all the yelling this time."

They sat down again, this time in a more relaxed atmosphere. Jey took out his notes and went over his ideas for the engagement party. He explained his vision for the decorations, the food, and the entertainment, with Jax listening intently.

To her surprise, Jey had put a lot of thought into the details and had even taken into account her preferences. She was touched by his effort to make the party special for Iris and Roman. But she damn sure wasn't going to admit it.

As Jey continued to share his ideas, Jax found herself nodding along, agreeing with many of his suggestions. She had to admit that he had a good eye for detail and had a great sense of what would make Iris and Roman happy.

She started to feel a sense of gratitude towards him, realizing that they could work well together when they put their minds to it.

"I have to say," Jax said after Jey finished speaking, "your plan is actually.. alright I guess. I think it will make for a wonderful engagement party."

Jey's face lit up with a mix of surprise and relief. "Really?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. "You're okay with it?"

Jax smiled at him. "Yes, I am," she said firmly. "You've put a lot of thought into it, and it's clear that you want to make this day special for my sister and Roman. I trust your judgment on this one."

"But we are NOT serving waffle house" Jax added

Jey chuckled, remembering the heated argument they had about food earlier. "Aight, fine." he said with a nod. "We can skip the waffle house and find something else that's more upscale and appropriate for an engagement party."

"Look at you growing up." Jax teased in response.

Jey rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smirk at her teasing. "I've always been mature," he retorted playfully. "You just refuse to acknowledge it."

"Yeah yeah yeah. As if, Yeet-man." Jax couldn't hold back her chuckle.

Jey shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're literally insufferable."

Jax suddenly remembered the harsh words she had said earlier about Roman and how they had affected Jey. She knew she had crossed a line, and it was time to apologize again.

"Jey," she said, her voice sincere. "I want to apologize again for what I said earlier about Roman. It was uncalled for and I know it hurt you. I shouldn't have said it, and I'm sorry."

Jey's expression softened at Jax's apology. He had been hurt by her words, but he could tell that she was genuinely sorry.

"It's okay," he said quietly, his voice filled with a hint of vulnerability. "I know you didn't mean it. But you're right, Roman does push me around sometimes, and it can be frustrating."

Jax could see the frustration and pain in Jey's eyes as he spoke about Roman. She realized that there was a lot more going on beneath the surface than she had initially thought.

"You know," she said softly, "you deserve better than being treated like a puppet. You have your own strengths and talents, and you should be able to stand up for yourself more."

Jey nodded, his expression contemplative. "I know," he said, his voice laced with resignation. "But it's hard to break away from Roman's control. He's been in charge for so long, and it's just... easier to let him take the lead. Besides, it used to be much worse."

"I can't believe Iris is marrying into this soap opera" Jax said.

Jey chuckled wryly at her comment. "I know, right?" he said, shaking his head. "It's a real mess. But at the end of the day, I'm just happy that Roman has found love and happiness with Iris."

Jax nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm happy for them too," she said. "And even though Roman can be a bit... intense, I have to admit that he's been good for her. She's never been happier than when she's with him."

Jey leaned back in his chair, his eyes growing distant as he thought about Roman and Iris's relationship.

"Roman is... different with Iris," he said quietly. "He's more patient, more affectionate, more open. He treats her like a queen and dotes on her every need. It's almost as if he's a completely different person when he's with her. She makes him better."

Jax could see the affection in Jey's eyes as he spoke about Roman's relationship with Iris. It was clear that despite their differences, he cared deeply for his cousin.

"I've never seen him like this before," Jey continued, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Jax took a moment to think about what Jey had said before asking, "You know, you said that Roman's different with Iris. Do you think you'll ever have someone who brings out that side of you too?"

Jey looked down at his hands, a mix of emotions crossing his face. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I hope so. But I've never really been lucky in love."

Jax's heart ached at Jey's words. She had never seen him so vulnerable before. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she wasn't sure if he would welcome the gesture.

Jey could feel the silence growing heavier, and he looked up at Jax, a hint of sadness in his eyes. He was grateful that she hadn't offered any platitudes or empty reassurances, but at the same time, he was feeling more vulnerable than he had in a long time.

Jax could see the vulnerability in Jey's eyes and knew that he needed some space to process his emotions. She didn't want to make him feel more uncomfortable, so she decided to change the subject.

"So, we've got a lot of planning to do," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's get back to it."

Jey nodded gratefully, glad for the change of subject. He quickly returned to the conversation about the engagement party, grateful to have something to focus on besides his own personal feelings.

"Right," he said, taking out his notes.

Prologue ●◉◎◈◎◉● Next Chapter

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 28 - A man of justice

This is a sequel to Beetober 2024 Day 1 - Raise a toast and you should really read that one first.

When Hizashi gets back to their apartment, he’s vibrating, as if his quirk is located everywhere in his body and not just in his throat. He tightens his grip on the—too thick—folder in his hand and Shouta better be home right now, because Hizashi fears that if he opens his mouth, if he so much as makes a single sound, he’s going to level the entire block.

Hizashi doesn’t bother taking off his shoes or jacket, his only goal finding Shouta as quickly as possible and some of the tension flows out of him when he sees his dark hair over the back of the couch.

He marches up there, stepping into his line of sight and as soon as Shouta’s gaze falls on him, he activates his quirk. There really is something to be said about being married for over ten years and having known each other for almost sixteen, Hizashi thinks as he slams the folder down on the table.

“Whoever is responsible for this, I want all of them dead,” he says, secure in the knowledge that Shouta has his quirk handled for now but his statement makes him blink in surprise and immediately that thrumming feeling is back.

Hizashi takes a deep breath to center himself.

“We generally frown upon murder in this household,” Shouta carefully says, eying the folder with newfound interest.

“Not any longer, we don’t,” Hizashi presses out, careful to not let his quirk slip and now real worry etches itself into Shouta’s face.

“What’s going on?”

Hizashi sees his fingers twitch, clearly desperate to tug the folder close and see what has Hizashi all murderous but instead of doing that, Shouta continues to look up at him, giving him the chance to explain and Hizashi loves him a whole lot.

“This,” Hizashi points at the certifiable book on their table, “is Hitoshi’s file. The real one, not the watered down version we got.”

His voice is scathing and Hizashi thinks if he could change his quirk’s output, the soundwaves would come out thin and sharp, like knifes, cutting through everything.

“What the fuck,” Shouta mutters, tugging the folder closer to himself. “What do you mean this is his real file?”

“It means that this is a detailed documentary of all the shit Hitoshi went through,” Hizashi snaps out and he trembles in anger when he remembers some of the things he read.

“How did you get this?” Shouta asks, clearly hesitant to open the folder and Hizashi commends him on his good instincts because reading about all of this had made his stomach turn in the most violent ways and he’s going to smother Hitoshi in even more love from now on.

The kiddo deserves it and then some.

“I know CPS hates you but you forget that they adore me,” Hizashi tells him, tapping his foot because all this restless anger in him needs somewhere to go if it can’t come out of his throat.

It’s not even a lie; Shouta works often with the CPS due to his underground work but it’s never pleasant for the CPS because Shouta is a hardass and he doesn’t much care for the proper procedures. His only concern is always the child and the CPS hates him for it.

Hizashi on the other hand is very outspoken about his own experiences in the system and he’s always calling for more funding for the CPS, for better work conditions, pointing out the good they do. It’s not always true, Hizashi knows that, but as long as the CPS remains to be chronically understaffed and bogged down with—sometimes unnecessary—paperwork he can’t expect them to do better.

He has run many a fundraiser for them and he’s on friendly terms with more than a few workers there. It was almost easy, calling in a few favours to get this file.

“How can it be this thick?”

“It’s because it’s all there, are you not listening to me?” Hizashi almost shouts and Shouta glares at him.

“Keep it down, Hitoshi is home,” he chastises him but the only thing that accomplishes is that now Hizashi wants to run off and hug Hitoshi and never let him go again. “Explain.”

Hizashi takes a deep breath, trying to center himself so he can talk for more than two sentences without losing it.

“It’s this thick because it’s a detailed account of everything that happened to Hitoshi. And I mean everything. It’s all there; police reports, injury reports from several hospitals and doctors, witness reports from teacher, neighbours, random bystanders on the street, the police, nurses, doctors and even some CPS workers.”

Shouta’s gaze drops towards the folder again, a frown on his face.

“If it’s all there, then how come no one has ever done anything?” he asks and Hizashi gives him his most feral grin.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” he demands to know and he can already see the gears in Shouta’s head turning.

With this many reports there are not many options as to who could keep something like this under wraps and they are going to find whoever is responsible for this.

Shouta finally reaches for the folder and flips through it; his jaw gets tighter with every page he flips and when he goes pale Hizashi knows he’s reached the medical part of the file.

It’s gruesome, considering the list of injuries Hitoshi has acquired over the years and Hizashi feels sick all over again.

“It was all swept under the rug?”

“Must have, because no one ever did anything, now, did they?”

Shouta continues to flip through the file, his eyes flying over the pages.

“He went through an awful lot of social workers,” he finally notes and Hizashi nods, because he noticed that, too.

And it tells him that someone has definitely tried to keep all of this hidden.

He’s not sure why, because what could someone possibly get from submitting a child to this kind of suffering, but there’s undisputable evidence that someone did.

And Hizashi is going to kill them.

“There’s no mention of All Might in this,” Shouta finally says as he flips the last page and that, too, is something Hizashi had noticed with mounting rage.

“Yeah, you’d think a man of justice like himself would report it if a terrified kid came to him to ask for help, right?” Hizashi mockingly says because they both know how that particular incident ended and Hizashi has to fight the urge to go and scream at the other hero some more.

“You want him dead, too?” Shouta asks and there’s no real judgement in his voice so Hizashi immediately nods.

“Preferably,” he seethes. “He’s not fit to be the number one, not if he treats civilians—kids—like this. Nezu should have exposed him.”

“And then what?” Shouta asks and Hizashi already hates what he’s going to say next because he just knows it’s going to be rational and true and everything Hizashi doesn’t want to hear right now. “You want Endeavor to be number one? Have you seen Todoroki? You saw how he refused to use his fire for the longest time. You’ve seen the burn mark on his face. You think it’s a coincident?”

Hizashi presses his lips together because he doesn’t but Shouta is merciless.

“Did you know that Endeavor’s oldest son supposedly died in a fire?”

“What?” Hizashi almost shrieks out because he did in fact not know this but now it makes the rage under his skin burn even brighter.

“Hawks is basically a child soldier and he’s under the HPSC’s thumb, even though he tries to not let anyone know that. You want him to take the spot?”

And now here is a sobering thought, Hizashi thinks, as he goes ice-cold in sudden understanding.

“The HPSC,” he whispers because of course.

Of course.

Confusion mars Shouta’s face for a moment before his expression goes slack and Hizashi can see a fire burning in his eyes.

“Hitoshi does have a very useful, valuable quirk,” he mutters and Hizashi nods.

“And it’s so much easier to snatch a kid up when his will has already been broken and he’s desperate,” Hizashi adds because the HPSC has always been shady and they’ve harboured their suspicions against them for a while now.

“Well, it’s time to do some investigating,” Shouta decides after a long pause and he tugs the folder closer to himself. “Mind if I work my way through them?”

Hizashi shakes his head; Shouta is not going to be a violent as Hizashi would want him to be, because for all that Shouta works closely with the darker side of things, he does care about proper procedures when it comes to being thorough, but it’s probably for the best.

Hizashi would hate it if Hitoshi and Shouta would have to visit him in Tartarus.

~*~*~

It takes Hitoshi almost no time at all to pick up on the tense atmosphere in the apartment and when it becomes clear that he’s not going to ask, Hizashi and Shouta sit him down on the third day. They don’t have any real results to show him yet, but it’s obvious they need to explain some things at least.

Hitoshi is tense and he’s clearly been sleeping worse and Hizashi hates to see him flinch when he reaches out for him, so a talk it is.

“You’ve picked up on our mood,” Hizashi says, not sugarcoating anything and not easing Hitoshi into it, either.

They’ve learned that being straightforward with him is the way to go, after all.

“Yeah,” Hitoshi mutters, ducking in on himself as if it’s his fault, as if they are going to lash out at him any moment now and Hizashi’s heart breaks in his chest.

Shouta hasn’t gotten very far in his investigation yet, but he did manage to find one of the teachers who submitted not one but six reports and it turns out the teacher had been forcibly transferred to another school mere days after the last one.

According to Shouta she’d cried in relief at hearing that Hitoshi finally has a good placement and she’s expressed a wish to see him again though Shouta had kept her hanging about that, since they first needed to talk to Hitoshi about it.

It’s not much to go on yet, but she had confirmed that the transfer came out of nowhere and that the headmaster at the time had seem twitchy. Nervous, almost and that’s something Shouta is looking into further now.

“I’m sorry if I did anything wrong,” Hitoshi tacks on when they stay quiet for a beat too long and now this is unacceptable.

Hitoshi hasn’t done a thing wrong in his life ever and Hizashi is not going to let him believe that for a moment longer.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, kiddo,” he gently says and goes to sit next to Hitoshi.

“We got our hands on your file,” Shouta now chimes in and it only makes Hitoshi curl in further.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“No, it’s—Hitoshi, all of the reports are in there. Everything was documented because the people you told that you needed help reported it, all of them. One of your teachers filed six different abuse reports before she was forcefully transferred out of your school,” Hizashi immediately tells him because he doesn’t want the kid to worry about this a second longer.

“What?” Hitoshi breathes out and his voice wobbles. “Then why did nothing ever happen?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Hizashi reassures him, but he must not have himself as well under control as he thought, because Hitoshi almost shrinks away from him, clearly picking up on the still thrumming anger in Hizashi.

It’s been hard to get rid of, ever since he was handed that file.

“Kid, we’re angry on your behalf. You should have gotten help years ago and someone made sure that you wouldn’t. We’re furious,” Shouta explains, “but not with you. We’re furious for you.”

It seems to take Hitoshi a moment to digest that.

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?” he then asks and Hizashi can’t help but to pull him into a hug because their son is so smart.

“We do, but we shouldn’t talk about it, not without proof. It could get us all into trouble if we’re not smart about this.”

“Then why do this? Why risk that?” Hitoshi demands to know and Hizashi can’t help but to stare at him.

“Because someone made sure you couldn’t get help. Someone made sure that you couldn’t get out of your situation and that’s not acceptable.”

“But if you could get into trouble for it, then you shouldn’t poke your nose into it,” Hitoshi insists. “Why do that for me?”

“Because you’re our son and someone made sure you were hurting,” Shouta matter-of-factly says and it’s the first time they called Hitoshi that, which might not be the best moment, but it’s out there now and Hizashi gently cards a hand through Hitoshi’s hair.

“And we’re not going to let that slide,” Hizashi adds, not commenting on the wet shine on Hitoshi’s eyes.

“But regarding that—have you ever been accosted by someone? Did someone ever approach you with an offer of any kind? Did an interaction like that ever stand out to you?” Shouta asks and Hizashi makes sure to keep a close eye on Hitoshi, so he sees the moment he remembers something.

“There was once,” he slowly says, clearly trying to recall the moment. “I was out with my foster father and my social worker at the time; she was doing her monthly check-in and we met her at a café cause the house wasn’t—fit for company,” Hitoshi says with a wince. “A guy with a suit approached us at one point. I’m not sure what they were talking about, I was six or maybe seven at that time, but my foster father seemed excited and promised to keep in touch, I remember that. I was moved to a different home shortly after and my social worker made me promise to never talk to people in black suits ever again. I—never saw her again after that,” Hitoshi finishes with a frown and Shouta gets up to get the folder.

He quickly flips through the pages until he obviously finds what he’s looking for.

“Is this her?” he then asks and holds out a paper for Hitoshi, the picture of a haggard looking woman at the top left.

“Yeah.”

Hizashi commits the face to memory, because at least this woman tried her best to protect their son.

“Did anyone try after that?” Shouta asks, putting the page back.

“No, not that I can remember,” Hitoshi tells them and that’s kind of strange, too.

The HPSC is not known for giving up easily and the reports have continued to be swept under the rug after that, still, so they must have had a plan.

“I’m guessing All Might didn’t make a report?” Hitoshi lightly asks, as if it doesn’t matter to him at all and Hizashi abruptly gets up, pacing the length of the room, all under Shouta’s watchful and Hitoshi’s wary eyes.

“No, he did not,” Shouta confirms once he’s certain that Hizashi has no intention of opening his mouth and Hitoshi frowns.

“You’re still upset about that,” he notes, his eyes on Hizashi and it’s laughable because Hizashi is not upset, he’s goddamn incandescently furious, and he tries to convey as much with his eyes, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak right now.

“Of course he is, Hitoshi. We both are. All Might could have helped you but he didn’t. Not only that but he also shattered your trust in heroes. Of course we’re upset about that.”

“Like you have been about all of this,” Hitoshi mutters, his eyes falling to the folder. “You’re upset on my behalf because I got hurt and no one ever helped me,” he whispers out and when Hizashi nods he starts to cry.

Which is one way to make the anger fizzle out and a second later Hizashi is at his side, pulling him into a hug and slightly swaying them.

“Of course we are,” Hizashi mutters. “We never want to see you hurt.”

“I didn’t dare to trust this,” Hitoshi admits into Hizashi’s chest and even though it makes Hizashi’s heart squeeze in his chest, they’ve known this of course.

Hitoshi might have been more open with them but he was still wary, still so very careful, still prone to flinching and hiding himself away and avoiding questions at all costs.

It will still take some time before Hitoshi will fully trust them, but maybe this can help him. Maybe being open about this was the right way to go.

Hizashi shares a look with Shouta over Hitoshi’s head and he sees the same thoughts reflected in his eyes. And he sees the same protectiveness burn in them as well.

It seems pretty obvious that the HPSC tried to get their hands on Hitoshi and they are going to find out why.

And then they are going to destroy them.

If you think I have any idea what's going on here or where this is going, then I must disappoint you. I have no clue what happened in this fic, the HPSC idea came to me literally on the line I needed it to and at the beginning of it all I had no intention to ever write a sequel to Raise a toast in the first place. Please don't hold out hope that there's going to be any kind of solution to this, because there might not be, or there might come one to me during the next shower, who even fucking knows anymore.

[captain-mj]

I saw you reblogged the Pain God Soap x Ghost oneshot recently, and I don’t know if this means you still have interest in it, but if it does,

It’s one of my favorite pieces of writing you’ve done (what can I say, I’m a sucker for overwhelming someone with artificial pleasure ;) ) and if you ever wanted to do a sequel I’d treasure it too <3

I ended up finding it as I was trying to find another thing I had written and i reread all of it. It's also one of my favorites and I'd be more than happy to write a sequel!

(Also I have another thing with forced/artificial pleasure if you or anyone else is interested. Just haven’t decided if it’ll be to Soap or Ghost so if you send an ask specify)

Ghost felt Soap's hands tracing down his spine. Over the past few days he had adjusted more to everything. The improbabilities and broken laws of physics had become normal at some point. He buried his face in the pillows to pretend to be asleep a little longer.

Part of him had begun to crave Soap's touch. In life, he could never stand it but here, everything was so different with him.

"Simon." He purred at him. "I can hear your heartbeat."

Ghost groaned and turned to him. "I dislike that you can do that. Does my privacy mean nothing to you?"

"What privacy?"

Ghost scoffed and shook his head before rolling on his back. He smiled as Soap started to nip and bite at his throat. "You're like a dog."

"If you want, I can bark."

Ghost laughed softly before moaning softly when he got a particularly hard bite. Soap pulled back and looked down at him, bumping their noses together. "God your laugh is lovely."

"Stop it, Soap." He pushed him back before pulling him back down to kiss him. There was a certain power under Soap's skin. Hard muscles that hummed with something unnatural. "I have questions."

Soap whined and kissed down his chest. "So early? Does your mind ever stop working?"

Ghost almost let it slip that Soap was very good at turning his mind off, but instead he spread his legs a bit so Soap could work more comfortably. "Soap, I don't like being at a disadvantage. You're good in bed and a god and that's all I know."

"And I love you."

And you love me." Ghost added softly. His fingers tangled into the sheets as Soap peppered kisses against his stomach. "I deserve more than that."

Soap looked hesitant. "Simon... please can we put this off?"

"No."

"Ask away." He looked weary as he laid his head on Ghost's chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was so strong he could feel it in his fingertips.

Ghost tugged Soap's hair. "The haircut..."

"Past few decades. Saw it came back in style from the vikings."

"I see. And how old are you?"

Soap didn't answer for a while but soon the ceiling started to fade again. At first into Ghost's stars and then into something else. They spun around and around until they were were ancient stars. "I was born when humanity was still considered a different species. A child prayed to me."

Something grew around the edges of the roof, branches and leaves and dozens of things. "Their father was cruel. Had a habit of viciously beating them when he was upset."

"It must've been difficult for you." Ghost muttered.

"Aye. Though I wasn't always useless. Back then, with a child that believed in me so strongly, I hurt him. I hurt him badly. Until the entire forest had bits of flesh from him. Unfortunately I learned that seeing your father be brutally murdered by a mere concept is very damaging."

Ghost laughed and he could feel Soap's smile. "Yes. In retrospect, that should've been obvious but I was young. Just born technically." He sat up. "I am a monster. I know this. I hope you don't fear me, though I know you likely do. You're used to feeling powerless. It's something you hate."

Ghost winced as Soap pressed into those old wounds but he stayed silent as Soap continued.

"You wish you could overpower me. It scares you that I can. That you don't have a chance against me. I've never experienced that, but i can imagine it's terrible." Soap sighed. "I'm sure you also wish I couldn't control you so easily."

"You don't control me."

Soap stared at him. "I do. In a way. I wish there was something I could do. Some power I could give you. A way to hurt me and kill me. But there is none that I know of. You have to trust me."

Ghost swallowed. "I'm working on it. You have been very nice so far."

Soap grinned and kissed Ghost's hand, fluttering his eyes. "Now. May I please please service you?"

"You're horribly horny for a god of something so vile."

"Aye. I have to get my pleasure from somewhere. If I can't get it from my work..." His fingers trailed up his inner thigh. "That just leaves you."

"One more question."

"Simon..." Soap sighed but got settled back down to listen.

"What can I do to make it better for you? I don't like just laying here."

Soap paused at that, seeming genuinely surprised. "Well... I would... like to try something. You'd still be laying there, but I'd like to restrain you."

Ghost considered it. It didn't change much, did it? Soap had pinned him down and Ghost could move him about as much as he could open the door. "If that's what you'd like to do."

Soap looked excited as he moved Ghost how he wanted. He kissed his wrists as he wrapped rope around his wrists. The rope was the roughest thing he had touched since he'd been there. It felt... nice. A nice juxtaposition. Soap never let him feel any pain or discomfort and after so long of only feeling pleasure, it felt like his brain had been rewired.

Ghost didn't mention it, planning to talk later. Instead he felt his brain simply melt as Soap's fingers worked him open. He stopped being able to think. If he was a little more cognizant, he'd wonder if Soap was doing this to him. Or more, what exactly he was doing to him. It was like all that existed was the sensations of the rope and those fucking fingers.

He built up nice and slow and his orgasm washed over him, body trembling as he twisted his wrists hard to feel the rope burn against him.

"Soap. So-"

"Johnny." He whispered softly to him.

Simon sighed softly. "Johnny. Don't numb me. Let me feel it."

Johnny bit his lip but nodded and slowly pushed into him.

Big.

Fuck he felt so big.

The stretch, the burn, the entire feeling. It hurt, but it was so good that Ghost could barely stand it.

Embarrassingly, he started to babble about it. How Johnny really did know everything about him. How he could barely think when he was doing this.

He wailed when he started to fuck him hard, letting, no forcing, Ghost to just feel everything. Two giant extremes burning through him until he felt like he'd be ripped apart but he'd enjoy it.

Ghost came hard and tried desperately to get a kiss. Soap teases him for only a second before giving it to him. The overstimulation started to make it too much and Soap just... took it away. Suppressing the feeling but nothing else. The intensity and the realization it would end only when Soap allowed washed over him and Ghost had never felt more turned on.

There was no telling how long he sat there. He'd occasionally try to twist his hips or clench and, a bit like Soap was punishing him for the effort, he'd feel the overstimulation and how much this was wrecking him.

Eventually, Soap after an ungodly amount of orgasms decided he was done. Ghost felt utterly braindead as he laid there. The moment the suppression left him, he was a shaking, trembling mess. He tried to pull himself together but he couldn't.

Soap kissed him softly and held him close, letting Ghost fall to pieces for a while.

"Johnny"

"Simon."

Ghost groaned and closed his eyes tight. "I think that was the best you've ever done. It was so good." He leaned into him, feeling his legs shake. "Fucking hell."

Soap hummed softly and pulled him closer. "You're a good boy. I don't think I'll ever get tired of making love to you."

"Making love huh?"

"Only way I describe what I do with you."

Ghost huffed softly but sleep was clawing at him and he ended up falling asleep.

[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

3. Still Down

If I put all my faith to you, will you be faithful? Hold me down baby I know that ain't easy to do

“Hi! I’m here a little early…wearing sparkly pants.” Maryse Monet’s message reads like pre-emptive admin before a blind date but, in reality, it’s not necessary: the 25-year-old singer/actress is instantly recognizable and not just to me. As I arrive a young woman approaches her and asks for a selfie. “Your music changed my life.”

Maryse immediately pulled the young woman in a tight embrace and thanked her, making sure the fan knew how much she appreciated it.

We had originally had a reservation booked at a fancy restaurant in New York City. Maryse’ suggested we meet at this charming deli shop out of the state of NY, much to our bewilderment. It was only upon our arrival that we discovered the reason behind her unconventional choice – she had recently made Kentucky her new home.

“New York will always hold a special place in my heart,” she confided. “But now, my heart is in Kentucky. It’s a welcome change of pace.” While not explicitly mentioned, it was evident that her relationship with her rapper Jack Harlow played a significant role in her decision to make the move.

In the wake of her recent Grammy wins, we begin to discuss the impact of her success on her upcoming sophomore album and whether the accolades added pressure to her creative process.

“Winning two Grammys for my debut album was truly surreal and humbling,” Maryse began, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and determination. “While there’s certainly an added level of expectation with each release, I see it more as an opportunity than pressure.”

Maryse went on to explain how the recognition reaffirmed her artistic vision and gave her the courage to push the boundaries even further with her new album. Rather than feeling constrained by expectations, Monet embraced the challenge as a chance to elevate her craft and connect with her audience on a deeper level.

“As an artist, I’m always evolving and exploring new avenues of expression,” she continued, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “The Grammys serve as a reminder of the impact music can have, and I’m excited to channel that energy into my sophomore album.”

When I asked her how the sophomore album is going, Maryse's eyes began to sparkle as she leaned forward like she was about to tell me a secret. “I’ve been pouring my heart and soul into the writing, exploring new themes and melodies that reflect where I am in life right now.”

“With my debut, I was in this whirlwind romance, and every lyric seemed to overflow with joy and passion,” she recounted with a wistful smile.

While on tour last year it was revealed that she and Jack Harlow had broken up after being together for almost a year.

“This time around I found myself navigating the painful aftermath of a breakup,” she confided, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “What was meant to be a continuation of love songs transformed into a raw exploration of heartbreak.”

She went on to describe how the experience of love and heartbreak had shaped her songwriting. “This album feels like a deeply personal journey,” she explained, her expression thoughtful yet resolute. “This next album will be the breakup album everyone thought they were getting with the first one.”

And what does Jack Harlow think of having break up songs about him?

With a playful grin, Maryse quipped, “Oh, you mean my muse? He’s been incredibly supportive throughout this whole journey.” Chuckling, she added, “He’ll be fine with the heartbreak songs. He knows it’s all part of the process.”

When Maryse isn’t working on music, she’s reading scripts. Fresh off her role as Belle in the live-action adaptation of Beauty and the Beast, she’s now set to appear in the remake of The Color Purple. “Acting is a new challenge for me, but it’s incredibly rewarding,” she said.

Leaving the deli, I felt a profound sense of respect for Maryse Monet. She’s a testament to resilience and creativity, navigating the complexities of love, heartbreak, and success with grace. Her journey from New York to Kentucky, from singer to actor, and from heartbreak to healing is one that inspires and captivates. As she continues to evolve, one thing is certain: the world hasn’t seen the best of Maryse yet.

****

LIFEOFMONET

liked by milaj, dojacat, urbanwyatt, easymoneysniper,jackharlow, torikelly, and 587,567 others

lifeofmonet: Never thought I would be on the cover of vogue 🥺 this means EVERYTHING TO ME I am so grateful and excited for this next chapter…..LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!!!

view all 6,789 comments

mariahthescienctist: So beautiful!

user: ICONIC

user: we finally getting a break up album!!!!

user: how can someone be so beautiful

saweetie: Yessss💜

user: the confirmation that she’s back with Jack and moved in with him 🥹🥹🥹🥹

urbanwyatt: welcome to Kentucky 😅

user: Jack has a big storm coming

jackharlow: so proud of you 😍

As Maryse walked into the house, she felt a wave of exhaustion run through her. Today at the studio was emotionally taxing and she was happy to finally be home. She kicked her shoes off and placed them on the shoe rack, and let out a sigh of relief.

In the living room, Jack was lounging on the couch flipping through a magazine. As Maryse walked closer she noticed it was the latest issue of Vogue, featuring her on the cover. Jack looked up, a broad smile spreading across his face as their eyes met.

“Hey there, superstar!” He greeted, setting the magazine aside and standing up to hug her. “How was the studio?”

“Tiring, but good,” Maryse replied, melting into his embrace. “What about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty relaxed,” he said, holding her at arm’s length and looking her over. “I spent some time reading this.” Jack gestured to the magazine. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

She blushed, feeling a mix of pride and shyness. “You read the whole thing?”

“Every word,” he confirmed, his eyes twinkling with admiration. “It’s a great article. You come across so genuine and talented. They captured you perfectly.”

Maryse laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t know about that, but it was a fun interview. And it was kind of nice, meeting at Morris Deli and then walking around the Highlands. Felt more personal.”

He nodded, his expression turning serious. “I loved what you said about New York and Kentucky. ‘New York always has a special place in my heart, but now my heart is in Kentucky.’ That hit home.”

“Well, it’s true,” she replied softly, reaching out to take his hand. “This place, this life we’re starting to build here… it’s special.”

Jack pulled her close again, kissing her forehead. He grinned playfully, “Oh, you really love me, huh?” he teased.

Maryse laughed, feeling her cheeks warm. “Well, you’re pretty special,” she replied, matching his playful tone. “I guess you could say you’re worth the move.”

He chuckled, pulling her even closer. “Worth leaving the big city for small-town life? That’s saying something.”

She nodded, looking up at him with affection. “Yeah, it is. But honestly, being with you feels like home no matter where we are.”

Jack’s expression softened, and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “I was just messing with you. I know how much you’ve given up to be here, and it means the world to me.”

She smiled, her heart full. “It’s not giving up anything when it means being with you. Besides, Kentucky has its charm. I’ve discovered a lot of things I love here.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, really? Like what?”

Maryse pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin. “Well, despite all the white people… everyone is friendly, the scenery is beautiful, and there’s this amazing guy I get to come home to every day.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re too much.”

She leaned in, planting a quick kiss on his lips. “And you love it.”

Jack sighed contentedly, pulling her into his lap. “Yeah, I do. More than anything.”

As they continued cuddling on the couch, Maryse couldn’t help but think about how hectic the coming year was going to be. Her schedule was packed with studio sessions, promotional events for the Color Purple.

The excitement of her career’s momentum was tempered by the nagging worry that their busy lives might pull them apart again. She didn’t want a repeat of last year, when their packed schedules had created a wedge between them.

She took a deep breath and snuggled closer to Jack feeling the warmth of his body against hers. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice tinged with hesitation. “Can we talk about something?”

Jack looked down at her, concern etched on his face. “Of course, what’s on your mind?”

She bit her lip, gathering her thoughts, and he gently pulled her lips away with his thumb, stopping her. “Don’t do that,” he murmured. “Talk to me, M.”

Maryse sighed, trying to organize her thoughts. “This year is going to be really busy for me. Probably even busier than last year. And while I’m excited about everything, I’m also worried. You know how things got between us when we were both so busy.”

He nodded “Yeah, I remember. It was tough.”

“I don’t want that to happen again,” she continued, Maryse’s voice barely above a whisper. “I know this year is supposed to be your reset year, and I don’t want to mess that up for you. I just… I don’t want us to drift apart.”

Jack pulled her closer, his grip tightening protectively. “Hey, we’re not going to let that happen again. We’ve learned a lot from last year. We’ll make time for each other, no matter what.”

She sighed, feeling a bit more reassured but still worried. “I know, but it’s hard. We both have so much going on. I just don’t want us to become strangers living in the same house.”

He lifted her chin, making her look into his eyes. “Listen to me. You’re the most important thing in my life. We’ll figure it out. If it means rearranging my schedule to be with you, I’ll do it. This reset year isn’t just about my career; it’s about us too. And I’m not going to lose you again.”

Maryse smiled, feeling a tear escape and roll down her cheek. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

Jack wiped the tear away with his thumb and kissed her gently. “We’re a team, remember? We’ll face this together.”

Maryse nodded and was quiet before a thought popped in her mind. “Maybe we should go on vacation before it gets too busy.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “That sounds perfect. I haven’t been on a real vacation in years. Any place in mind?”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Somewhere quiet and relaxing. Maybe a beach? We could use some sun and sand.”

“That sounds amazing,” Jack agreed. “A chance to unwind and just be with each other.”

She nodded, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought. “Yeah, just us, away from everything. We need that.”

Jack kissed her forehead, a look of determination in his eyes. “Let’s make it happen. I’ll handle all the planning. You just pack your bags.”

“Just so you know,” Jack said, a playful smirk on his face, “I’m probably gonna burn in the sun while you get a nice tan.”

Maryse laughed, playfully nudging him. “I’ll make sure to bring plenty of sunscreen for you, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I’m serious though. I turn into a lobster if I’m out in the sun too long.”

She grinned, loving the banter. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you in the shade then. Or maybe we can alternate between sunbathing and hiding under an umbrella.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, pulling her closer. “As long as I get to spend time with you, I don’t care where we are or what we do.”

She smiled, feeling a wave of warmth and love. “Same here. I just want us to have some time to relax and enjoy each other’s company.”

He kissed her gently, his eyes filled with affection. “It’s a date then. We’ll escape to the beach and have the best time ever.”

She nodded, her heart full. “I can’t wait. It’ll be perfect.”

“I’m thinking we hit up a nude beach,” Jack teased, not being able to hide the mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Maryse couldn’t help but gasp and playfully hit his arm. “You’re unbelievable!”

Jack laughed, enjoying her reaction he leaned in, stealing a quick kiss. “What? It could be fun! Totally freeing, you know?” He pecked her lips again, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

She shook her head, giggling. “I don’t think so. The only person who gets to see me like that is you.”

“You damn right!,” he said, still chuckling before he kissed her again, softer this time. “But you have to admit, it would’ve made for an interesting vacation story.” Another kiss.

“Sure,” Maryse replied, rolling her eyes with a smile as he kissed her again. “Maybe in an alternate universe.”

He laughed and continued to steal kisses between words. “Alright, no nude beaches,” he said, punctuating each word with a quick peck. “But seriously, anywhere with you is perfect.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with love. “Just us, no phones, no work.”

“Deal,” he said, kissing her forehead, finally giving her lips a break. “It’s going to be amazing.”

Jack then smiled, pulling her closer. “Alright, no more yapping. Let’s go cuddle.”

He stood up and offered his hand, helping her off the couch. She took it with a tired smile, leaning into him as they walked to the bedroom, hand in hand.

Once they were under the covers, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. The warmth of his body against hers was comforting, a feeling she had missed during their time apart. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Goodnight, M.” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. His voice was soft, filled with affection and relief that they were together again.

Maryse snuggled deeper into his embrace, feeling safe and content. “Goodnight, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied softly.

As they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them in their cozy little bubble. The tension and worries of the day melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace.

Maryse laid still for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then, unable to resist, she gently poked him in the side.

“Are you asleep?” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Jack groaned softly, opening one eye. “Well, I was,” he teased, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, I’m just so glad we’re together again,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as sleep began to overtake her.

“Me too,” Jack whispered back, watching her as her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep. He stayed awake a little longer, his mind drifting over the events of the past year and the journey that had brought them back to each other, but none of that mattered anymore as Maryse was finally back snuggled underneath him.

He kissed the top of her head, a smile playing on his lips as he closed his eyes. The familiar rhythm of her breathing, the way she fit perfectly against him—it was all he needed to feel at peace. For the first time in months, he felt truly at home.

As sleep began to claim him, he held onto the thought of how lucky he was to have her back in his arms. No matter how busy their lives might get, this was what mattered most: the love they shared and the promise to face everything together.

And with that comforting thought, he finally drifted off to sleep, happier than he’d been in a long time.

*****

AN: little filler chapter! next chapter is when the real fun begins and they go on vacation :) let me know your thoughtsssss

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @daphnescorner @angelluv444

[misterspectacular]

Joker in Arkham Shadow

I'm so glad Joker is a part of Arkham Shadow! Not a big part and we never actually see him, which is sad, but HE'S IN IT! It's actually necessary that we don't see him, or that he doesn't see US, considering we are Batman without the mask and he knows we are Batman based on voice alone. He knows his Bat so well!

The voice actor hasn't been listed yet, but it's Troy Baker, who also voiced Joker in Arkham Origins! (Troy Baker voices Harvey Dent/Two-Face in this game, as well). (Side note, Batman in this game is voiced by Roger Craig Smith who also voiced Batman in Origins.) (Side side note, this is a sequel to Origins.)

Heres the dialogue:

Matches Malone (Batman): *knocks*

Joker: Two bits! Well, look who's finally awake!

Malone: The hell you talking about? you some kind of Joker?

Joker: Hardly knew her! Hehehee... Aah, nothing like an old friend to make the joint feel less solitary.

Malone: Old friend? You got the wrong guy. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting a freak like you.

Joker: Tut tut, Batsy-Boo! The East End voice might fool the rest of these dimwits, but me? Tsk tsk. Oh, you and I have something special.

Batman: What do you want?

Joker: Right now? A gallon of gas, a book of matches, and a ham sandwich. But I'll settle for a little chit chat. Ever since the last riot down here, it's gotten so dreadfully boring!

Batman: (multiple choice question, this one was selected) How long have you been in solitary?

Joker: Ooh, look who's fishing for leads! Don't tell me I'm a suspect in whatever foul deeds you're investigating.

Batman: You are always a suspect.

Joker: Hehehe, I bet you say that to all three girls. Hehe, unfortunately for you, Sherlock, I've been locked in here ever since you stopped me from exploding the Warden. (Reference to Origins finale) Funny... I didn't think they'd throw me in the hole for FAILING to kill someone. Huh!

Batman: You have no idea what's going on in Gotham?

Joker: I mean, honestly, you finally put the hurt on Gotham's criminal underworld and suddenly there's a brand new rodent stealing your spotlight! Meanwhile, I'm boxed up like --

Batman: Bats are NOT rodents.

Joker: Euggh. Bet you're fun at parties.

CO Robbins (guard?): Shut up in there, will ya?!

Joker: Everyone's a critic! Fine, fine, fine. Aah, I need to get my beauty sleep anyway. Seems like I'm always a little pale ever since SOMEONE dropped me into a vat of acid! Hmm? Hahaha!

Batman: Enough talk for now.

(I love this bit. In ORIGINS, it's shown that Joker actually RECREATED his own memories so that Batman would be included in them. The vat of acid and Batman throwing him in was a made up memory. It's also shown in Origins that Joker PAINTS his face -- he's not pale because he was "dropped in acid". Joker prefers the fantasy and at this point might believe it's reality.)

---

(Next day)

Joker: Knock knock!

Batman: Joker.

Joker: No no no! You're supposed to say, "who's there?" Do you really not know how this goes? Let's try again. knock knock!

Batman: (multiple choice, this one was selected) Who's there?

Joker: What? It's me, the Joker. Oo, they must've hit your head pretty hard before they threw you in here.

Batman: *grunt*

Joker: Oh, don't be like that! Not my fault you walked into it. Now, where were we?

Batman: (multiple choice) Where's the Rat King?

Joker: Beats me! You'd think someone who wanted chaos and destruction throughout Gotham would've jumped at the chance to get ME involved.

Batman: And he hasn't?

Joker: Bats. Really? Do you think I'd be chatting this much with you if I had any other options? It's always work work work! You never ask how my plans for killing sprees are going!

Batman: During the last riot, you left bombs all over the prison. You know where the Rat King is hiding.

Joker: You know, persistence is one of your best qualities, but I'm being honest with ya. I wouldn't know the Rat King's secret lair from a hole in the ground!

CO Robbins: How many times I gotta tell ya?! this ain't a damn social club!

Joker: Oh, cram it up your TYGER hole, Robbins! I don't come to YOUR job and commit unspeakable offenses against helpless victims, do I?! Oh wait, I do. Well, hate to say it, Matches, but he's got a point. We'll chat later.

---

Joker: Psst! Hey buddy, you awake? I haven't heard the screws bustling around in a while. You know what that means?

Batman: That it's time to get out of here.

Joker: That's right! Slumber party! Truth or dare! You go first, but don't ask where any bodies are buried!

Batman: (multiple choice, this one was selected) What do you know about Dr. Quinzel?

Joker: Let's see, Dr. Quin -- Ooh, the blondie? Is she still working here? Well, if you ask me, she could really use a career change. I don't suppose you know anyone who's hiring? Ooo! Maybe she could be your little sidekick! Hahahaha!

Batman: I work alone.

Joker: Oh, come on! The adventures of Batsy and Doctor Ditz! It'll play great woth the teens.

Batman: No.

Joker: Teh. Fine, fine. If you're too uptight to give the girl a chance, well, one man's trash is another man's treasure.

Batman: If you know something about the Rat King, tell me. You could be his next target.

Joker: Oh, heaven forfend! I certainly hope no one breaks me out of solitary to try and recruit me for the Day of Wrath! And they say you're not funny. Thanks for the laughs, Bato! I mean, "Matches". WINK! Now what's next? Spin the bottle? Kind of difficult with a concrete wall between us. Now don't go putting my hand in a bowl of water while I sleep! Hehehehe

Batman: This isn't funny, Joker. People are going to-- (Batman is interrupted by a visitor and so ends the Batjokes interactions)

---

and that's that.

later Batman explores Joker's cell. It says "hahaha" on one wall, and on the wall they were speaking through it says "we're sleeping" and "Kill the bat!"

oh and here's a screen shot of the wall from Batman's side, I had to crop the video because I got a notification during recording haha