#lives in- all the comments about how it's a shitty place and nowhere near as good as it used to be under his post

[wild-at-mind]

A weird thing I've noticed as someone living in England is how often people also living in England seem convinced their lives will improve massively if they just move to Wales or Scotland. Or sometimes further afield.

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. ���NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

[not-really-a-writer]

Countdown to a Kiss

I know we are NOWHERE near New Year's Eve, but I wanted to write this sooo bad now that I have a blog on here. I would just like to say that this story is inspired by irl events and a shitty ex I once had. Oh an a quick reminder: You can start over any day of the year.

Summary: you drag your asshole bf out for New Year's Eve where you meet an alluring stranger

Captain Howzer x reader

Warnings: alcohol use, Asshole boyfriend with a capital A, cheating?, unexpected kiss but you want it ;) made up stuff about Howzer before he went to Ryloth.

"I told you. We should have thrown a party," your boyfriend scoffs. He lies on your bed facing toward the ceiling with an uninterested look on his face.

You walk over from your bathroom in your underwear to pick out a fitted pair of black leggings from your closet. "We did that last year, and the year before, and it was fun," you say, pulling your leggings over your hips. "But, most of our friends are out of town this year and the others already made their own plans for tonight," you say turning to face him. "Let's just go out for once and enjoy the night. We don't have to worry about hosting or cleaning up after a party," you say in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Ugh, whatever. You know how much I like hosting a house party," he mutters. He gets up from his lying position to continue getting dressed. Well you did know how much he liked 'hosting' which for him, meant getting drunk while you took care of your guests and did all the setup and cleaning afterward.

"And you know how much I like to go out, " you say reaching for a fun, sexy top in the back of your closet. It's a strappy, sparkly number perfect for the night. You had many fond memories in that top, dancing the night away with friends before you met your current boyfriend. Gosh, you're not sure it still fits.

He ignores your comment and disappears into the bathroom. You pull the sparkly top over your head and look in the mirror. Cute!

You try your best to get dolled up despite his discouragement. It had been a few years since you had the night off on the eve of the New Year. And you were determined to have some fun. Your boyfriend never took you out on dates, so it's not like you ever had an excuse to dress up for anything. After a few minutes, you whip your makeup into shape and you look ravishing.

"How do I look?" your boyfriend asks you, stepping out of the bathroom. He has buttoned up his shirt and put some gel in his hair. And unfortunately, he had spritzed on way too much cologne because you can smell it all the way across the room.

"Good!" you say honestly. He does look more put together than usual. "I can smell your cologne," you say politely. "I think it's a little strong," you say, just to let him know.

"You always complain about that!" he snorts dismissively, reaching for his shoes. You grab your favorite perfume and apply one pump. You can barely smell it on you for his cologne drowning it out.

After he finishes putting on his shoes, he walks toward the door. "You ready?" he asks impatiently, grabbing his wallet and comm device. "Yea, just give me a second," you say slipping on your heels and checking your reflection in the full length mirror.

You turn and check your angles in the mirror and it makes you feel confident. "Cute!" you say out loud as you look over at your boyfriend. He doesn't even notice you because he is staring at his comm device. "Ok I'm ready," you say as you grab your wristlet and head out the door with him. It is late already so you're rearing to get your night started.

Since you live on Christophsis, You take a cab into the Crystal City to one of the more low key bars there. It is a place you had been before with friends and hadn't seen in several years. It has a good crowd and the atmosphere is relaxed but buzzing. There is a long bar on one side of the place that runs almost the entire length of the club. Tables opposite of that, and an empty space in between that served as a dance floor.

The crowd is mixed tonight. Citizens and some clone troopers as well. Clones had a somewhat regular presence on the planet since the war started. They would stop in during transit between the outer rim and core worlds for repairs, resupply, and shore leave. Always coming and going.

You notice two barstools open next to a clone trooper. You approach him. "Are these seats taken?" you ask, leaning in so he can hear you over the music. As he turns to you, you get a good look at this trooper. His armor, adorned with deep purple markings, is slightly different than the others indicating that he is an officer. His face is unmarked by scars or tattoos. His unique feature besides his armor is his combed back haircut which is short on the sides, but longer on top. "They're yours if you want 'em," he says, leaning in toward you.

He leans back away as you move to sit next to him, but his bourbon hued eyes don't leave you. You see his face relax into a smirk as he takes you in. You know you look good tonight and it feels good for someone to finally notice it. You feel the slightest warmth in your cheeks under his intense stare.

"Thanks," you say, batting your lashes. "So what are you doing on Christophsis?" you ask. You feel your boyfriend brush against your arm as he slides in to the stool next to you and places an order with the server droid. "My squad and I were dropped off here and now we're awaiting transport to our new battalion. We're getting transferred to a new one stationed out at Ryloth," he explains. "Oh," you say, listening. You feel your boyfriend lean in toward the bar, then over toward you and the clone trooper.

"Did you say Ryloth?" your boyfriend butts in. The trooper nods. "Oh, you'll like it there. The views are great if you know what I'm saying," he adds. You grimace and roll your eyes lightly. Your boyfriend isn't even drunk yet and is already making comments like these. The trooper looks back and forth at you two and makes the connection. He nods slowly and narrows his eyes slightly.

"I'm Howzer, " he says toward both of you, holding out his hand. Your boyfriend bumps into you as he reaches past to shake the trooper's hand and give him his name. "So, what does that thing on your shoulder mean?" he asks Howzer, without bothering to introduce you.

"It basically means I'm one of the clones in charge," he says simply. "In charge of what, exactly?" your boyfriend questions, taking a sip of his recently arrived drink. He hadn't bothered ordering you one or asking you if you wanted one. You flag down the server droid.

"My squad," Howzer replies, motioning toward the clones interspersed in the crowd. Your boyfriend turns to scan the room full of citizens and troopers as if to take a head count. "Oh yeah. I know all about that," your boyfriend says with fake bravado. And he proceeds to tell Howzer all about his job.

You sit in the middle of this conversation, placing your order with the server droid. Your boyfriend was indeed a supervisor at his company. He was in charge of a large team but it's not like he commanded troops on a battlefield. The comparison was ridiculous and made you scoff. You look over at Howzer. He is listening, eyes narrowed slightly with his head cocked to the side. He's not particularly interested, but he is patient in this case. Probably because he has a glass of liquor in him to help him deal with your asshole boyfriend's pretentiousness. You notice his glass is nearly empty so you make him an offer to compensate for your boyfriend's behavior. You wait until your boyfriend stops talking to take a sip of his drink. Then you make your move. "Can I get you something, Howzer?" you ask, pointing at the server droid.

Howzer turns his attention to you and his expression immediately warms. "Sure, just another bourbon," he says. Of course, he looks like that's what he drinks. You enter it into the droid's panel and look back over at him. "Coming right up," you say through a sweet smile you can't hold back. Apparently, he can't hold his back either. The lines around his mouth deepen as he leans closer to you, holding out his hand. "I uh, didn't get your name earlier," he says. You take it and give him your name. He repeats it as he leans back, looking at you. Something about him is hypnotic. Alluring. Every time he looks at you, he draws you further in. He makes you wish you were single at this very moment. "Thanks for the drink," he drawls and he releases your hand. If the room were quiet, your whimper would have been audible. His touch felt so nice. Anyway....

The rest of the evening, the three of you continue your conversation. Howzer is a genuinely interesting person and it is easy to get lost in topic after topic. You worked for an armor manufacturer so you had a lot to discuss with him. That is, if your boyfriend would stop butting in to steer the conversation back around to focus on himself. Howzer plays nice though, and shows a lot of patience. A lot more patience than you had. You can tell he feels conflicted about stepping in. He didn't know you or your boyfriend and wasn't sure it was his place to intervene.

Competing with your boyfriend in the conversation was wearing you down over the course of the night. He had a habit of talking over you and explaining things for you, that you were physically tired of trying to stop him. Every time you tried, he would talk louder over you to the point where your ear hurt and your throat hurt from the effort. So you resorted to smiling and nodding while your boyfriend talked and sipping your drink while you admired Howzer's handsome expressions.

And you think Howzer is doing the same thing to you. Every now and then you think you catch him zoning out on what your boyfriend is saying because he gives you that look again. Where his expression changes. He relaxes his stare and his lips go soft. Those lips. Anyway...

It is starting to get late enough that people are passing around flutes of champagne to get ready for the countdown to mark the start of the new orbit, the new year. As if your boyfriend needs another drink! He is already sloppy drunk and getting more annoying by the second. Thankfully, all the drinking has started to catch up to him as he has started going to the bathroom every ten minutes or so, giving you and Howzer a chance to talk. He doesn't mention anything about your boyfriend, but he allows conversation to flow naturally between you. And you enjoy each other's company while your boyfriend is away.

You notice Howzer seems confused as he takes the champagne. He raises an eyebrow and looks at you. You read the look and answer immediately. "It's tradition," you explain. You tell him how the champagne and countdown works. "And usually people throw in a kiss. For good luck," you say. "Ah how nice. Interesting!" he says in acknowledgement, downing the rest of his bourbon. Despite all that he drank tonight, Howzer doesn't seem drunk. Must be his clone genetics. Very high endurance and tolerance. Strength, Stamina. Anyway...

Your boyfriend returns from the bathroom to resume another story he was telling Howzer. Everyone in the club all turn their attention to a screen along the wall behind the bar as one of the bartenders starts to make an announcement. Music is still playing and there's plenty of chatter, but it is apparent something is about to happen. Your boyfriend keeps talking but by this point, Howzer is ignoring him and focusing on the screen with you.

The screen is showing a video about the year and all the events that happened on Christophsis. You nudge Howzer when they get to the part about the Clone Troopers and their efforts in the war. You want to make sure he sees the citizens' of Christophsis appreciation for them. The troopers around the bar whoop and holler something, some of them waving to get Howzer's attention. Howzer looks out across them with pride and waves his arm back at them. You can tell he is their leader by the way he effortlessly owns their allegiance and respect. It's incredibly sexy.

Still, your boyfriend keeps talking. You nudge him a few times to get his attention, "Shhh. They're gonna start the countdown in a few," you plead, but he ignores you. You look at Howzer apologetically as your boyfriend keeps rambling. He offers you a smile, but you notice something in it looks a little sad.

Mercifully, as if the gods above granted you a gift, your boyfriend interrupts his own story for an announcement of his own. "I gotta go pee. I'll be right back," and he leaves. You see him slowly stumble through the thickened crowd as everyone has gathered around the bar to get ready for the countdown.

"Allllllright everyone. Grab your drink and your lover and let's say goodbye to the old year and hello to something new!" the announcement rings throughout the club. On the screen is a timer showing 60 seconds left before the planet begins a new orbit around its star.

You pick up your flute and look at the empty space where your boyfriend was. He's nowhere in sight. You look over at Howzer and he has picked up his flute as well, mirroring you. You look back at the clock, 30 seconds now. Still, your boyfriend is nowhere in sight.

"Ready?" you ask Howzer. He looks at you excitedly, his dark eyes sparkling with reflections of the colorful lights in the club. "Yes," he says softly, keeping his eyes on you.

You smile at him shyly. You had been thinking naughty things about him all night while your boyfriend sat right there. It was wrong to do those things, right?

The chatter around the bar unites into a single voice when the timer hits ten seconds left.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

You look around the bar to find your boyfriend. He is nowhere in sight.

"Seven!"

"Six!"

"Five!"

Howzer is looking at you when you turn to him and raise your glass.

"Four!"

"Three!"

You clink your glass lightly against his and mouth "happy new year" to him silently. There's no use shouting over the crowd.

"Two!"

"One!"

The club erupts in cheers and confetti falls from the ceiling. You throw your head back and let out a quick whoop of your own, confetti falling and sticking to your face. You toss back the champagne together with Howzer. It's cool, sweet and bubbly and feels good going down your throat.

You set your glasses down on the bar next to each other, and you lick your lips. Your eyes follow up Howzer's arm to his face where you notice he is still looking at you. He reaches up and brushes the confetti off your face with the gentlest touch that doesn't at all feel like it is from a stranger. You see his perfect lips curl up into a smirk as he leans in toward you.

You think he is going to tell you something like "Happy New Year" or "Where did your boyfriend go?" or any number of things. But instead, his lips stay closed until they are on yours, moving and opening only in response to you when you welcome the kiss.

Your brain lets your body go. Your boyfriend didn’t kiss you like that. Not now, not ever. He couldn’t. He could never match your rhythm or intensity like this gorgeous trooper you just met. Life for you was devoid of romance and all things tender and sweet, so you let yourself have this moment here at the bar with this beautiful stranger and you drink him in like he is the sweetest champagne. And he is delicious. He tastes soft and smoky like the velvety bourbon he was drinking. It's a New Year's Kiss for good luck after all. You could both use some of that.

"Happy New Year," Howzer mutters breathlessly against your ear, and then he pulls away. You huff, trying to catch your breath with your eyes still closed. Your lips pull slowly into a soft smile.

But it's soon to fade because when you open your eyes. Howzer has gone. He must have slipped away while your brain was still processing what was happening.

Seconds later your boyfriend emerges from the thick crowd. He didn't see anything and appears completely clueless. "Where'd that guy go?" he slurs. He was only concerned about resuming his ramblings. "He left," you say, your smile creeping back on your lips.

Your boyfriend says something about leaving and you agree. It was time to leave. Not just the bar, but this shitty relationship.

Say good bye to the old year and hello to something new!

Damn good advice indeed.

[drxwsyni]

Ties That Bind

Demon!Matsukawa Issei x f!Reader

Synopsis: You move into your grandparents old home, situated in a quaint little town for a fresh start. What you don’t expect is there to be a remaining occupant in your new abode, much less when it asks you to help him out.

8.5k words

Warnings: Noncon (starts consensual but turns non-consensual), unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of blood & injury, coercion, stalking, slight hair pulling, pet names, condescension, kidnapping.

_____

You were never one to believe in the supernatural, but you wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere along the lines of your lifetime, you were cursed.

From the rundown apartment you were stuck in, unable to afford a move into a nicer complex, to your recent break up with a long term, painfully neglectful and borderline abusive partner―nothing in your life seemed to work out for you. Over the course of a year, you managed to lose all of your friends, leaving you alone while you stumbled down the path of uncertainty since losing your companion, even if they were a shitty one at that. The job you had ate away at your sanity with each shift, and the fumes of energy it left you with made anything outside of working and tending to your basic human needs impossible.

What you needed was a fresh start, and out of pure luck, that’s exactly what you got.

A certain chill swept past you as you walked up the driveway to your new home. It was a pleasantly comfortable and secluded abode―once belonging to your grandparents, and now belonging to you. They’d recently made the move south, seeking a warmer climate and leaving behind the quaint little town they’d lived in all their lives.

By chance, they thought to call you and offer up the home, and the humble flower shop they ran before leaving. It would all work out impossibly well―the house was paid off, and you already knew how to handle the work of a florist, having seen your grandparents in action many a time when you were younger.

The opportunity was impossible to pass up.

As you finished unpacking the few belongings you took with you, the sense of constant anguish that always seemed to linger lately was already diminishing. With the welcoming smell of a lit fireplace, and the warm surroundings of not just the tasteful interior decorations, but the autumnal changing of the seasons outside―settling into this new lifestyle felt like second nature.

It was a breath of fresh air. Literally―their home was situated about a ten minute drive from town, surrounded by nothing but a colourful forest of maple and oak trees, leaves beautifully bathing your vision with oranges and reds. The change from the smog ridden atmosphere of the city you once resided in was entirely welcome.

You truly felt at ease here, and soon enough days turned into weeks, this utterly perfect way of life sweeping you off your feet and carrying you into what could only be described as complete tranquility.

_____

Your grandparent’s home wasn’t exactly new...it’s how you tried to rationalize the strange occurrences.

When you were younger you remember your grandmother telling you that the thuds and creaks you heard was just the house moving. Expanding in the warmth and shrinking in the cold, things falling in and out of place―normal happenings that you could ignore. However, she never mentioned anything about the sounds of scratching.

You knew what mice and rats that lived in the walls sounded like, no thanks to your shitty old apartment. But these sounds weren’t that. They were long, drawn out and following you. Down the halls, above you as you tried to sleep. Part of you tensed whenever the indescribable scrape of god knows what met your ears, before leaving just a few seconds after it came and not returning for hours, sometimes even days on end.

You rationalized that like all the other bizarre things, this was just a result of the house being old.

That, and the cold gusts of wind, things falling over, the occasional flickering lights. It was all just byproducts of an ancient home, right?

Only, that didn’t explain everything else.

How when you opened or closed a door, it felt like some invisible force was pushing or pulling more than you. When creases on your bed appeared without you having touched it since making it before going to work. Especially not when the things falling out of place were being put back into place. Soon even the items you sent astray yourself ended up where you were too careless to tuck away to begin with.

And certainly, an old home couldn’t explain this feeling.

It came and went, almost unnoticeable but indisputably there if you focused hard enough. A sixth sense of sorts―the one you get when you just know that someone is watching you. But you’re the only person in the house, and when you look over your shoulder there’s nothing to suggest why the distant and mildly unnerving feeling is just barely making itself known.

Not a single plausible thing can make sense of all the peculiar little things happening around you. You can’t fix it, and so the only thing you can do is try to ignore it.

For a while, it actually works.

It's easy to get over it when aside from the things that go bump in the night, everything is just as ideal as the day you moved in. The townspeople who welcomed you with open arms are still just as friendly. Many of them were already your close friends by now, sharing dinner with them a couple times, falling into idle chit chat as you stumbled upon them during a trip to the grocery store or grabbing take out at the local diner. Your new job as a florist was going better than you could’ve ever imagined. The somewhat old fashioned building was picture perfect―brick walls overtaken by wildly growing vines, the setting sun hitting it just right every evening as you were closing up. At the end of the day you could relax, knowing there wasn’t really anything worth worrying over.

At least, that was until you saw it.

You caught the obscure figure in the corner of your eye, but you could’ve sworn there was a man staring at you from the corner of your room. It was morning, and you were at your vanity prepping for the shift ahead of you. For a split second it seemed like the reflection in the mirror hosted an additional figure. But when you turned to face the corner, such a thing had disappeared. As your heart stopped racing, and you forced yourself to put a halt on the spiralling “what if’s” of your mind, you decided it was just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Just shadows creating false realities, nothing more.

But those shadows came back. Not just once, but multiple times.

The next day you saw something standing in the window of your bedroom as you pulled up into the driveway. Just like last time, it vanished in an instant. The same figure ghosted your vision at the end of the hall, a blink and it was gone all the same. At one point you were just reading in your living room, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace at the end of a successful work day. Your eyes were trained on the paragraphs of the pages, when out of nowhere a thick blanket of unease enveloped your body.

Something was in the room with you, and it felt like they were standing right behind you.

You dared not look, despite part of you knowing that if you did there shouldn’t be anything there. Instead, you screwed your eyes shut, wordlessly chanting like a hymn in your mind that you were alone, there’s nothing behind you.

All at once the near suffocating weight lifted. You opened your eyes, turned around and just like you suspected, or rather hoped―it was just you and the rickety old walls of your home.

Honestly, you started to feel like you were losing your mind.

The lifestyle you’d adopted in this homely town of yours was still as enjoyable as ever, only for that serenity to dissipate slightly when you returned home.

Eyes, eyes, eyes.

Eyes here, eyes there. Not false realities, but a presence that was real just as much as yours. It felt strange to be worried about such a thing, when nothing bad was coming out of the shadowy figure occupying your space, aside from the occasional feeling of being watched. You were unsure of what to think―whether you should get the hell out of dodge, or just accept this strange being that you weren’t convinced was even there.

Because aside from the innate instinct to be on edge when that presence made itself known, things were fine. You could ignore it since without fail it always went away when you looked hard enough.

One day, out of pure frustration from the back and forth of your conflicting mindset alone, you let it slip that you wished whatever the hell was haunting you would stop being such a coward and really show itself. You laughed at yourself after, having thrown the comment out to absolutely nobody, realizing how crazy you looked.

Little did you know, that was the invitation it wanted.

_____

You mentally cursed your grandparents for owning such inconvenient appliances. The washer and dryer in the basement’s laundry room were certainly worse for wear. But they weren’t broken yet, and you weren’t willing to pay for the expensive upgrade. Which of course meant that you were stuck trying to fish out a shirt from the bottom of the washer, a loose thread getting caught on a jagged edge that was notorious for holding your clothing hostage.

After nearly falling into the opening from having to reach so far down into it, you relaxed with a deep exhale as you deposited the once stuck article into your laundry basket.

Unfortunately for you, the washing machine wouldn’t be the only faulty part you’d have to fight against while in the cold and damp basement.

The door to the laundry room was just one of the many things that would inconvenience you. Unless you propped it open, it would always shut on it’s own. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue, but now as your hand reached for the doorknob, and it feigned to twist under your influence, it was becoming very much of the sort.

“C’mon….damnit!”

Frustratingly so, you yanked on the handle, jiggling it every which way―yet it would not budge. You noted that you’d left your phone upstairs before coming to do the laundry, meaning you were left to brute force your way out if you didn’t wish to waste away in this small room.

For a moment you paused, closing your eyes to steel yourself from those thoughts that only served to cause more panic.

“I was waiting to see how long it’d take you to get locked in here.”

You nearly yelped at the sudden voice behind you, practically jumping ten feet in the air as your body whipped around to face its source.

And whoever was standing just a few steps away from you―everything in your being knew that it was practically dripping in danger.

Standing well over six foot and sporting an impressively broad frame, with short and slightly curly black hair was...a man? All signs pointed towards that, except for the glaringly contrasting black and pointed horns protruding from his hair.

They were only about two inches long at the most, but they were there nonetheless. Entirely inhuman, matching the black abyss of his eyes, which somehow looked amused at your reaction. He was clad in similarly black clothing, but nothing that seemed abnormally fashioned―at least not in human standards.

He probably seemed amused because you were standing there quite literally frozen, mouth agape and at a loss for words. There were so many things you could say, the plethora of confused and afraid thoughts racing through your mind being ripe for the picking. However you still remained silent, a building anxiety inside screaming for you to do anything.

This unit of half man, half whatever returned your gaze, eventually letting out what may have been a disappointed sounding sigh. When he was the first to move, taking languid strides towards you, something snapped in your brain, allowing you the strength to break out of the astounded trance you were in.

“D-Don’t come any closer!” Frantically, you stumbled backwards, which wasn’t very far, your back colliding harshly with the still locked door.

The horned creature continued his slow approach, taking in your much smaller form with each step. He let out a low chuckle at your words, finding them if not a bit cute, when they were trying to be intimidating. “Oh? And what are you gonna do about it, little human?”

Before you could even begin to process a response, let alone voice the retort, he was already standing right in front of you. With a towering frame, he leaned down in order to face you, making you cower impossibly further into the door behind.

“This piece of junk gets jammed all the time, just gotta mess with it―kinda like….” His hand reached down beside you, the other casually pocketed. As he spoke, the overhead luminance of a lightbulb caught the glint in what you could’ve sworn were fearsomely large canine teeth. A resounding click came from the door, “....that.”

The frame you were leant up against disappeared, and your whole body was sent falling off balance. You should’ve gone crashing down onto the concrete floor beneath you―but a pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso before that could happen.

This time a small shriek did escape your lips when you were forcefully pulled into the stranger’s firm chest, your back pressing against it. A shiver ran through you as he spoke teasingly into your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “So, you’re a clumsy thing too?”

Adrenaline finally kicking in, you squirmed in his hold, noting with horror as the hands that gripped you had significantly clawed nails, looking like they’d rip straight through your flesh if you weren’t careful. “Get the hell off of me!”

He was deeply entertained at the way you pushed against his chest, your strength paling in comparison to his. Just because he found the sight of you flustered being amusing to no ends, he made sure to relent on letting you out of his arms for a moment. But, in truth, he wasn’t here to scare the living daylights out of you. And so regretfully, he loosened the hold that hadn’t been straining him in the slightest, letting you put some distance in between the both of you.

You were downright mortified at the events unfolding, hair tousled and clothing wrinkled from your brief struggle. A part of you was appalled at how he seemed so nonchalant with his actions, and his appearance in general, that feeling only magnifying at his words.

“Don’t act so surprised now, this isn’t exactly the first time we’ve met after all…”

At that statement you were gone right back to being speechless―because deep down, you realized that he was right. Taking a step back, you could sense that the air hanging in the room carried similarities to the times you caught that shadowy figure lurking in your peripherals. It didn’t feel suffocating now, but the energy it held was a secondary hint at his unnatural presence.

Which would mean that this man who had appeared out of thin air...was the thing that’d been watching you all this time?

Still lost in thought, you barely registered that he’d walked past you and back into the laundry room. “That’s right, little human. It’s only ever been me.” Seemingly sensing the deep confusion you felt at his words, he continued. “Your thoughts are quite loud, y’know.”

You watched with bated breath as he picked up your laundry basket that was still resting atop the dryer, mindlessly letting him hand it to you. Choosing to overlook the fact that he’d blatantly invaded your head to read your mind, only because you didn’t have the capacity to unwrap what that meant, you figured it would be best to start with the basics.

“What...What are you even―” If your eyes could’ve gotten any wider than they already were, they absolutely would’ve.

Smirking to himself, the inhuman stranger picked up a piece of clothing that had fallen out of the basket. He held up the thin, delicately laced panties, snickering as you snatched them from him in a frenzied motion.

You shoved them under the pile of clothing in the basket, “What are you even doing here? And―And how are you here?”

Now that was the reaction he was waiting for.

The sinister smile he gave you did nothing to calm your rapidly beating heart, accompanied by the whole body tense you felt. There were those literal fangs again, bearing themselves as he responded.

“Well, cutie―it’s a long story. But if you’ll have me, I’ll gladly explain it…if it means I get to spend more time with you~”

With a white knuckled grip on the laundry basket, you returned his smug expression with a stern look. Regrettably, you realized that you’d be a fool not to implore on the reasoning behind his unwelcome occupation in your home. It was invasive, and you suspected that the answer to ridding the house of him laid somewhere in whatever tale he was offering to recount.

The knowing look in his blacked out eyes told you he was just as aware of this reality as you, simply awaiting the inevitable answer you were sure to give.

Defeatedly, you agreed to hear him out, a sickening feeling settling in your stomach in seeing his pleased demeanour.

And so was the beginning lines of a contract between you and this resident creature, one that in its completion would bind you to him forever.

_____

He was summoned for quite innocent purposes, it turns out.

This demon who’d slyly instructed you to call him Issei was brought to your world to assist your grandparents. They made a deal―he helps their business, and once they made enough money to move they would repay him.

The problem was, they royally messed up their part of the deal.

Issei apparently got his repayment, but they failed to properly banish him from their home, or rather your home, which he was tethered too. It just so happens that he didn’t realize this until after they’d left. He’d be damned to the home for all eternity, “If only there was a nice little human capable of freeing me…”

Before resigning yourself to assisting the demon in getting him back to where he belonged, you questioned him. And he didn’t really have a choice but to answer, that was unless he wanted you to move out just like your grandparents and leave the next poor soul to deal with him. Naturally, he was just as willing to respond to your questions as he was in previously explaining the circumstances for his entrapment.

Since realizing that he was the entity stalking you from the shadows, you felt a tad...unnerved by him. Why should you help the thing that was unashamedly watching you without your consent after all?

“You were just as much of a stranger to me as I was to you. Had to make sure you weren’t a bad person and all.”

Now that made you laugh, coming from a literal demon.

But, you suppose you couldn’t blame him. That’s not to say the whole thing didn’t creep you out, but in hindsight he could’ve done much worse.

The fact that all he did was keep an eye on you for a while had to show for something, right?

When it came down to it you could either find a way to send Issei home, or move out. Which would mean going back to your old life―being miserable in every capacity.

You’d take a demon over that any day.

The agreement was formed after having gone through three cups of tea, and a bag of potato chips shared between the two of you (it turns out demons liked junk food). Issei would quit being such a creep and stop lurking in the shadows, and you’d use your free time to figure out how to help him.

It was how you ended up in the dusty and dark attic of the house.

Now, your grandparents weren’t always the sentimental type. When they made the move south, they wanted to transition into luxury, which wasn’t exactly what took up the space of their old home. The antique furniture had its charm, but it was nothing compared to what they were anticipating for their new abode. It was for that reason that they left nearly everything behind. Unless it went for a good selling price, or it held legal importance, they saw no need for it.

When you first stepped into the place, it honestly felt like they left in a rush. But you knew better, and so you didn’t pay it any mind.

You were grateful for everything entrusted to you now though, because after nearly an hour of rummaging through the cramped attic, Issei doing little to help, you finally found what you were looking for.

Your grandma’s old journals.

The demon who was lazily lounged on the big wooden crates snickered a little as you coughed on the dust that flew into the air when you blew at books. And then, when you were sent into a sneezing fit, he full out started laughing.

You sent the menace a nasty side glare, “The least you could―” another sneeze, “―c-could do is help me, asshole.”

It was something you suspected had to do with his unnatural makeup, but Issei quite literally towered over you. As he drew near, giving your head a few pats, you once again found yourself in awe of the sheer size of him.

“Alright, hand it over. Clearly your weak human form is no match for these all powerful dust bunnies.”

Quite smugly, as if he was doing you a lifesaving favour, Issei took the box of journals from your hands and headed for the stairs of the attic. For now, you chose to ignore his irritating comment, realizing that the sooner you got to those journals, the sooner you could get rid of him.

_____

Well, at least he wasn’t lying to you.

After what felt like hours of reading, probably because it did take that long, you finally stumbled upon the entries that detailed the origin story of the demon’s summoning. All in all, you couldn’t exactly blame your grandparents for seeking supernatural assistance. Sure, making a deal with a demon to boost the popularity of the floral shop held a lot of uncertainties, but it seemed to go fine for them.

And you really couldn’t blame them when they just so happened to end up with such an easy going demon at that. You had no clue such business could be so simple and stress-free, but the pages of your grandmother's writing told you that you really did have nothing to worry about.

With that in mind, you decided to do some backtracking.

Surely somewhere in these faded and withering pages would hold the key to sending Issei back to wherever he should be. There was enough writing for her to have mentioned it at some point―but that was the issue.

In counting, you found a total of thirteen journals, each one about an inch and a half thick. All that reading, and you had no clue where the answers to your problems lay. However, whether you should be grateful or not, Issei didn’t seem to be in a rush to get home. Which meant you had all the time in the world to scan page after page of the journals.

It was safe to say that it’d be a while to complete such a task. Enough time in fact for the two of you to grow very comfortable with each other.

While it took a little bit to get used to, you soon found the demon’s presence to be much less of a weight on your shoulders than it once did. Since Issei stopped existing as a shadow, the strange looming sensation you felt disappeared.

You figured that, even though you strictly told him not to, he may have invaded your mind to find out how his more inhuman characteristics didn’t exactly sit well with you. Now, you couldn’t deny that he was easy on the eyes, but it was hard to focus on that when something so unnatural was also staring you in the face.

One day you came home to see that those demonic qualities were gone. Horns disappeared, eyes looking human, and razor sharp claws reduced to short and blunt fingernails.

Once again, you never said anything, but the knowing smirk he held gave away that he very well knew how attractive you found him to be in that moment. Of course, you’d grown used to his teasing attitude by then, steeling yourself and moving on with the rest of your day.

While you worked to understand the ins and outs of the witchcraft your grandparents used, things around the house were generally nice. He acted like an oddly supportive and chill roommate, if anything strangely attentive to you. When there wasn’t anything to do, Issei simply preferred to watch you go about your own business. Technically it beat him doing the whole hiding in the shadows thing, but you couldn’t say his eyes that you could’ve sworn became a little darker than normal when watching you made you feel a little antsy.

He was a demon after all―an entity stronger than you could ever comprehend, one that was choosing to simply follow your movements from his laid out position on the couch as you did one thing or another. Such a contrast in strength even in that state would naturally make you want to shrink under his unrelenting gaze.

It was safe to say that it took a while to get warmed up to him. But the journals were long, and you were still searching for answers. And so eventually you developed a fondness for the demon stuck in your home until further notice.

Despite how you started reading the journals the moment you found them, there simply wasn’t enough time in the day to put a significant dent in them over the span of maybe a few hours. One week turned into two, then three. A month had passed and you were only a quarter of the way through the pile.

Finally, four months later, you had reached the end...sort of.

In that time you’d learnt how your grandparents had been meddling in the demonic arts for many years now. Small things here and there, nothing as serious as summoning a demon. It was for that reason that you were quite regrettably unable to find anything that would tell you how to send Issei home. Even more so was the painful curiosity you got from discovering some severely burnt and unreadable pages in the last journal. It couldn’t have been more than a few of them, but for all you knew, they could’ve held the solution to your problem.

The last entry was detailed pretty normally. Your grandmother wrote of how they were nearing the end of the contract. With the flower shop having thrived for a long while, they finally had enough funds to make the move. All that was left was to figure out what the demon wanted in return for his assistance. But that’s where it ended, leaving you with nothing to help you with your own challenges.

Right now, all it really meant was that Issei wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

That fact held a strange reality―concerning how in these four months, you developed a strange bond with him.

It almost embarrassed you to say, and you’d never openly admit it to him knowing the relentless teasing you’d get, but a part of you didn’t want him to leave. You reasoned it was due to the neglect and general mistreatment you received from your last relationship, because you couldn’t deny the strange longing you felt to be around him.

At first when you tried to push Issei away, he laughed at you. All we wanted was to be there for you, provide some casual comfort as it was one of the few things he could do for you. The comment of it being ‘what you deserved’ didn’t go unnoticed by no means. In fact, it stuck in your mind and stayed at the forefront. Replaying in your head each and every move he made to be closer with you.

Sure, he could be a little cheeky at times, a few innuendos here and there. But other than that, you never quite minded his touch. If anything, you welcomed it.

He was everything you wanted in a partner. Observant, thoughtful, attentive when he needed to be. You didn’t have many reasons to be stressed in this new life, or in need of relief so to speak. But when you were, when you did need a distraction, he was always there.

You were no stranger to Issei’s more affectionate side. Four months of living together in such close and secluded quarters allows for a lot of exploration between what the two of you meant to each other after all. Up until now, you took how he always offered a shoulder to lean on, passing embraces and absentminded physical gestures to be something more platonic in nature.

Now however, you weren’t so sure.

While the flower shop was still thriving, you were the only person running it. It left you a little more worn out than usual, a particularly busy week leading you to have some pent up anxieties.

And of course, Issei noticed right away.

You brushed off his insistence to let him help you wind down at first, but a few days of the strain on your body had you yearning for something to ease the ache.

And the book you were reading just wasn’t cutting it.

You let out a huff of frustration, your mind unable to focus on the words. Also laying on the bed beside you, Issei quirked an eyebrow at the small commotion. You failed to notice the way his eyes took in the sight of you clad in your thin nightgown, how his lips quirked into a knowing smirk from your idea of trying to read to help you fall asleep for the night doing jack shit.

“You really gotta relax a little, sweetheart.”

You sent him an unserious glare before you returned your focus to the book. “I’m trying to.”

The bed creaked a bit as he drew closer, assumedly trying to see what story could possibly be so captivating that would have you acting this serious. Really, he was stealing a glance down the front of your nightgown, exposing your supple skin.

A shiver ran through your body as he leant down, speaking low into your ear. “Why don’t you just let me help, s’not like I haven’t done it before.”

While he wasn’t wrong, the reality was he’d never done anything like what he was insinuating. You never had to ask him how he wanted to help you relax, when a warm hand rested atop your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

How the hell were you supposed to focus now?

You didn’t push him away as the hand curled into your inner thigh, thumb moving back and forth against your skin. Only a little worriedly, you attempted to press your legs together.

“Issei, I―”

“What, is my little human shy?”

Your heart began to race as the deepness of his voice, being so close made you physically shudder. The grip on the book's spine tightened. “T-That’s not it, I just…”

You were forced to pause mid sentence as his hand crept further up your thigh, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he continued to pull you deeper into the wanton trance.

“I think if you knew what was good for you, you’d finally let me take care of you.”

He hadn’t even touched you where you were finding yourself wanting him to the most, but the pooling heat you felt was already so incredibly intense. You could feel the slight dampness in your panties, body aching with need so quickly at his actions.

“...Why don’t you let me give you what I know you want.”

Of course he was able to tell how much you were losing yourself to his words, with the way your breath’s pace picked up, lids half shutting with anticipation. As the pads of his fingers finally grazed your clothed pussy, and you let an airy sigh escape your lips, the both of you knowing how you can’t deny his offer.

Especially not when those fingers push the delicate fabric to the side, teasingly trailing up your folds.

“I think it’s time that―” he accentuates those low spoken words by applying the perfect amount of pressure against your clit, “―you really relax, yeah?”

Almost immediately, your hips buck against his hand, grinding yourself into it and earning more delicious stimulation. You didn’t even realize the way your book slipped off your lap, too caught up in how Issei’s fingers began rubbing steady circles against the little bundle of nerves.

A hand flies to your mouth in an attempt to stifle the few high pitched moans escaping you. While you are a little confused as to why you feel so goddamn needy, you don’t really care. Quite the opposite, you eagerly part your legs as his fingers dip lower to your entrance, gathering up some of your arousal. You're unable to stop the whine as he pushes a finger in, skillfully curling it against your walls.

Even harder is it to stop the way your breath hitches and your walls clamp down as he adds a second finger, hitting that spongy and sensitive part of you seemingly easily.

It’s impossible for him to miss your cute little reactions, “That’s your spot, pretty girl?”

You all but keen at the saccharine tone lacing his words, head pressing into the pillow as his digits make languid thrusts into your heat. Wrapped up in the way he’s perfectly working you over, you didn’t fight him as he leant over your body and began leaving open mouth kisses against your neck. Or, when he latched onto a particular spot that had you writhing gently underneath him, hands gripping his biceps to ground yourself.

Much quicker than usual, that warm and familiar pressure was building inside you, lewd noises of your slick meeting your ears as Issei quickened his pace. He spoke against the skin of your collarbone, small marks growing darker here and there from his ministrations. “That’s it, little one. Give it to me…”

Although it was spoken quietly, you could’ve sworn the command felt like it was playing out in your mind. Reverberating through your fleeting thoughts, coaxing you to fall apart. A near blinding sensation ripped through you as his thumb repeatedly swiped at your clit, a few more seconds enough to push you over the edge that you reached almost shamefully fast. Issei didn’t let up, helping you ride out your orgasm as you remained in that intense state longer than you ever had before.

When you eventually came down from your high, panting and a light sheen of sweat adorning your face, you did feel more relaxed. But somehow, that same heat you felt persisted.

You must have been out of it longer than you thought, unaware of just how you came to be now entirely bare, nightgown and panties nowhere to be seen.

That, and the fact that Issei was just as uncovered as you, hovering over your mildly exhausted body. With glazed over eyes, you drank up the way the bedside candle bathed his body in a warm and flickering light, highlighting his tanned skin. You would have remained that way, enjoying the view of his broad and well built frame, if he hadn’t interrupted you. And, if you weren’t already so far gone in the motions, you might haven protested as his lips captured yours in a deep kiss. It was too late for any that now. Your mouth parted in a weak sigh as his hand came up to cup your breast, pinching the already hardened nipple and experimentally rolling it in between his fingers.

Out of pure need to breath, you pawed against his toned chest, relieved when he let up. Not before nipping at your now swollen bottom lip, he chuckled a bit to himself, having a proud smirk in seeing your blissed out expression.

“...Told you I could help.”

The burning ache in between your legs refused to leave, despite you just having experienced what was likely the most intense orgasm you’d ever had.

Issei could see the desire written across your face, bringing a hand to affectionately cup your cheek.

Even that contact alone was stirring the same need in you, making you lean into the gesture as you practically pouted up at him.

“What’s wrong, baby. That not enough for you?”

If it weren’t for the teasing lilt in his voice, you would’ve felt bad for what you were about to ask.

Lashes wetted slightly with tears, you peered up at the demon who was awaiting an answer.

“I want more, please…”

For the first time in ages, your drifting gaze landed on those sharpened canine teeth of his, shining in the candle light from his lighthearted grin at your pleading.

It was taking everything in him not to lose himself in your vulnerability. Having you so openly grapple for his touch was downright intoxicating, and even for a demon as strong as him, the pull to absolutely ravage you was almost irresistible.

But he couldn’t do such a thing―not yet.

Issei was quick to oblige your request, positioning himself between your legs and lining up with your dripping entrance. Just because the sight of your frustrated pout as you waited patiently for more was sickeningly addictive, he took a moment to tease you even further.

A jolt of pleasure shot through you as he rubbed the weeping tip of his cock along your glistening folds, nudging your clit and earning a desperate mewl from you. Your whole body felt like it was melting under even the smallest of movements, limbs beginning to grow weaker. Just as the tears welling in your eyes threatened to spill, Issei leant down and planted his lips softly against yours.

You suppose it was a distraction, as you felt him begin to push past your entrance. Having been previously drowning in the way he was eying you like prey, you never quite caught a glimpse of what was in store for you. You now knew all too well though, your nails digging into his biceps as he slowly split you open on his cock.

Hearing your pained whines, Issei brought a thumb back down to circle your puffy clit. In parting, you turned your head to the side as he began planting light kisses along your cheek, continuing along your jawbone.

“Takin’ me so well, such a good little human…”

The praise he purred into your ear had you keening, wanting to earn more as he finally sunk into you.

Out of mercy for your much frailer composition, Issei paused until you gave him those pleading eyes to keep moving, your lower lip tugged between your teeth.

And god, how could he refuse that.

He reared back before snapping his hips into you, the force causing you to yelp as your whole body was jolted. Issei looked down at you, an animalistic look in his eyes as he began a steady pace.

You clawed at his shoulders, the sheer size of him making it effortless to hit that sensitive and spongy spot inside you with each thrust. His whole body was massive, engulfing your frame and showing you just how small you were in comparison now that he was so close.

“Aren’t you just a mess for me. This tight little cunt is fuckin’ drooling.”

It felt like with each word that left his lips, the burning desire grew more and more intense. Maybe it was because you hadn’t properly gotten off since Issei had made himself known four months ago, but right now you couldn’t care less. The drag of his cock against your walls had you weakly writhing underneath him, back arching and legs kicking out.

Issei took pride in the way you squirmed, each slam of his hips causing you broken moans and high-pitched whimpers. You were babbling nonsense, of how good it felt, how good he felt. He saw the way your eyes were glazed over, rolling into the back of your head, not focused in any capacity on the way he was changing right above you.

A large hand wrapped around your throat, and distantly, you could feel a sharp sting against your sweat covered skin.

“Look at you, my sweet little human―you need me, right?” Issei all but growled out the question, squeezing your neck tighter when you failed to respond.

“Y-Yes! Fuck, I need you, need you s-so bad Issei.”

While you were falling apart, panting and drool seeping from your mouth, the demon was as collected as ever. With his rhythm increasing, you felt the coil tightening and threatening to snap with each passing second, your legs wrapping around his hips and trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“That’s right, you fucking need me, you belong to me―say it.”

You were so close to reaching that peak for a second time, too absorbed in the feeling to respond.

Issei felt the way your walls fluttered, clamping down against his length. As much as he wanted to see your face contort in ecstasy only he could deliver you, he still needed one last thing.

His hips stilled right as you were about to come undone again, pulling out almost all the way and leaving just the tip.

“Say it, human. Tell me who you belong to.”

The demand was harsh, ringing inside your head and mixing with the lust filled haze clouding your mind.

“You, Issei! I’m yours, please don’t stop, I-I’m―”

Your eyes shut tight as he slams back into you, pace quicker than ever as you fail to notice how the entire room begins to change. All you can register is the blinding sensation of your building release, it crashing upon you in waves. Somehow more powerful than the last, you’re reduced to a convulsing mess as he keeps moving inside you while you cum.

There’s a certain ringing in your ears, a muffledness that slowly fades as you calm down. Your heart is beating hard against your ribcage as you tearily crack open your eyes.

You’re not in your room.

The black ceiling that hangs above you is not your own, nor are the satin sheets of similar colour you lay upon. What was once your home is now everything but the sort, a bedchamber large and grand. The hanging chandelier and mounted sconces light your vision.

They light the still looming frame of Issei.

He’s changed too.

Those once hidden and inhuman horns have made their return, his eyes darker and sinister. And the fangs you caught a glimpse of earlier, crimson.

A thin trail of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, falling and landing on your chest.

“Such a naive little thing you are…”

Startled and still far too sensitive, you gave a silent scream as Issei thrusted back into your heat in one fluid and harsh movement. You pawed against his chest, body still exhausted and turning your protests into nothing more than feeble pawing.

“S-Stop, Issei. S’too much, p-please.”

Instead of slowing down, his movements quickened, a brutal pace being set as you frantically tried pushing him away.

You didn’t know where you were, but in the back of your mind, you knew how you came to be in this strange place had something to do with the demon ignoring your pained sobbing.

Even in seeing your face twisted in anguish and confusion, he kept that self-righteous grin on his face. “Made me work to own you, I’ll give you that.” Issei’s hand, once wrapped around your neck, gripped you by the hair.

A sharp sting shot across your scalp as he forcefully beared your neck. With a swipe of his thumb, the demon smeared the still fresh blood leaving the bite wound on your neck. You cried out in pain as all of a sudden the punctured area began to burn.

“But with this, you’ll never be able to leave me.” A deep laugh reverberated in his chest at the prospect of his words, not ceasing the movements that were somehow lighting that same fire in your belly once again.

You mentally recoiled at the whole situation, the feeling of unbridled fear swelling inside you.

“I said st―” “Stop? That’s cute, sweetheart. But…” Eyes gleaming with hunger, drank up your messy and exhausted, small form. “...Little humans like you don’t get to make choices for yourselves―not anymore, at least.”

Despite his words doing nothing to encourage you to speak, if anything only frightening you with how they weighed down on your conscience, you still forced yourself too. To your appreciation, Issei slowed his pace slightly, giving you the chance to catch up with your thoughts.

“I-I don’t understand, why are you―”

A searing kiss cut off your questioning, his length stilling and remaining buried inside of you. He wasn’t anywhere close to being gentle like before. This time, his kiss felt rough, claiming as his fangs pierced the soft skin of your lower lip, the metallic taste of your own blood flooding your mouth.

When he pulled back, you were just as stained in red as he was.

“You were the deal, sweetheart.”

Issei reclaimed that fast and bruising pace, pelvic bone grinding against you and catching your clit with each cant of his hips. He relished in the way your nails left marks in their wake against his shoulders and back, finding your attempts to both search for something to steady you and push him away at the same time greatly entertaining.

“Your fuckin’ grandparents left once they realized they weren’t what I wanted―” Large hands met the underneath of your thighs, bringing them up to press against your chest, “Gave me you to earn their freedom.”

By now the tears once fleeting had developed into a steady stream, you hiccuping as you feebly attempted to form words. “That’s...s’not true, they w-wouldn’t do that.”

As the declaration left your mouth, you thought your mind was totally lost and playing tricks on you. In the palm of Issei’s hand appeared the burnt pages to journal number thirteen.

“It’s not? Then why did the crazy witch write it all down?” Carelessly, he tossed the badly blackened pages away, scattering them across the bed.

Your gaze followed the mess as they splayed across the sheets, view landing on the familiar scribbles and catching the last few lines jotted down.

“...Doesn’t deserve this…..I didn’..rea..ze…..he’s...monster…..the poor thing….......I’m sorry….”

Issei’s clawed hand turned your head back to face him, the sharp points of his fingers digging into your cheeks. While you knew he wanted your attention on him, all you could conceive was how this was just a repeat of your unfortunate history.

What you thought would be the start of a perfect new life was really the end of your already shameful one. Lured into fresh surroundings, only to find the air heavy with an awaiting darkness.

In a contrasting act of tenderness, Issei leant down, lips finding your fallen tears and kissing them away. Perhaps it was a pitying comfort, as you found those thoughts of despair suffocating, firmly cementing your fate with him.

But when he spoke, you knew it wasn’t because he realized your internal state from the look on your face, but from peering into the open book of your mind.

“I’ll take care of you, little human. Let me prove it to you.”

You might not have had the capacity to understand him then, but he meant what he said. In all of those months, he became everything you needed. And while it was to get you to trust him, to get you to give yourself to him―it wasn’t to say that he didn’t truly want to do all of those things.

From the moment you stepped into that house, Issei knew he was right in his judgment to respond to your grandparent’s summoning. The pull to heed their demands was strong, and for good reason. You were the being he was searching for. So he tended to all of your ailments, and in doing so realized he found what he’d been craving all these years.

He found the rush of feeling needed in you.

You’d have no choice to depend on him now, trapped in his realm with no way out.

Those details weren’t something you quite needed to know at the moment, however.

Whole body quivers washed over you, limbs feeling weaker than ever as both of you drew closer to release. Unrestrained moans left you as Issei’s length glided against your tensing walls, pressure building rapidly in your lower abdomen.

You weren’t anywhere near in your right mind as he relentlessly pounded into you, but you could’ve sworn the stretch of his cock felt bigger as his thrusts grew more erratic.

Showing that he really would take care of you, his hand snaked in between your bodies, the pad of his thumb rubbing messily against your sensitive nub.

With a few more rough thrusts, him still sloppily circling your clit with wide motions, you came around Issei’s cock for the second time.

He buried his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, and that of the wound he’d inflicted upon you. Chasing his own release, he sporadically rutted against you.

Far too exhausted to do anything about it, you could only lay breathless as a warmth spread inside you, uncaring of the mess dripping down your thighs as Issei eventually pulled away.

The night's events were catching up on you, maintaining consciousness being impossible no matter how much you tried. No amount of fighting to keep your eyelids open would help, simply delaying the inevitable.

As your grasp on the waking world slipped through your fingertips, the last thing you felt was the dulled sensation from the wound on your neck, spreading to feel like a collar chaining you down.

The demon, not nearly as tired as you, returned your body to a comfortable position. He’d deal with the mess he’d made once you were fully asleep and unable to protest, now choosing to watch you drift away.

That satisfied smile remained on his expression, thankful to have finally returned home. But more than anything, he was satisfied.

Issei found what he was looking for.

And, being the perfectly naive human you were, you finalized your fate in willfully agreeing to be his.

The contract was completed, binding you to him for all eternity.

[mysticgoblinwriter]

Driving In A Cold Sweat; There Is No One On This Highway

Warnings- Murder, infidelity, swearing, food imagery, shitty parents, i made Steve the villain who’s in the HOA and a politician, adult content, dark!reader, cheating, a bit of flirting, mental health joke (mental health is NOT a joke, y’all), religion symbolism, dark!steve, peggy x bucky,

Word Count- 1.9k

kudos to @blackberrybucky for being my soundboard, and @fandomsandxfiles for being my beta reader. Love y'all

a/n- This is inspired by Hypothermic by Goodnight Texas.  Its really dark, and I surprised myself writing this but I like it. I also changed the landscape to desert. Leave comments if you want! As many as you like, I fangirl over my work too. All writers should, its selfcare.

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING FLUFFY AND SOFT TURN AWAY NOW; MINORS DNI

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE. A REBLOG IS APPRECIATED. A REPOST IS NOT.

Bucky looks you up and down, taking you in like you are the gods own ambrosia.  “So, doll.  What brings you to this shit hole?”

You laugh to yourself.  “I murdered somebody.”- was the sentence that also inspired this but its not in the actual story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The radio gave out miles ago.  It was emitting nothing except for crackling and static.  Every now and then it would cut back to a sermon, funnily enough it’d been the same one that was on when you started your trip.  Sunset was a little ways off.  If you looked hard enough you could see coyotes just off the asphalt.  Alive, yes.  But just how long had their souls been gone?  Someone was screaming.

A man.  You’d heard that scream before.  Seared into you memory like that steak you had for your 15th birthday. It was right next to you.  Oozing blood and raw-red.  You could hear the clink of the knife as it scraped against the plate.  Shaking your head to clear it, you notice an exit with a gas station.  “Now’s a time as good as any to stop.”  Gravel crunches as you slide up next to the pump. The neon beer lights from the bar across the road are calling.  But you can’t answer. The gas handle is slick and grimy, you’ve felt something like that before, but you can’t remember what.  A fuzzy noise in the back of your ears gets your attention.  Another truck has pulled in.  Right in the spot next to yours, never mind the dozen others that are free.  A bulky man steps down, his face hidden by a rangers hat.

You could tell he worked out though.  And had hair in need of a washing.  Clunk.  The tank was full.  You thought it best to leave before anyone could place you, but your stomach needed something other than greasy two-bit fast food.  You glance around, looking for any sign that promised a hot meal.

“Looking for something, doll?” You let out a small gasp.  He was staring straight at you now.

“Does this shithole have a place to eat?  I might have to start eating the cactus.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Yeah, there’s a diner about half mile down the road.”

His face brightens like he just thought of something.  “You wanna meet me there?  I’ll buy dinner?”  You weigh the options.  You can’t have anybody recognize you; but your cash is getting low and however you can stretch it, you must.  You nod once.  “Sure.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The diner is every trope you’d seen in the movies your pops watched when he got off work.  Flies buzzing, neon sign flickering, checkered tile.  It even had the shiny red leather booths.  What a dream.  “Getcha a seat anywhere, honey.  I’ll be right over,” came a perky voice from the back.  Presumably a waitress. You choose the booth near the back exit.  Its always good to have a backup plan.

The man said he needed to get something at the mini-mart, that you could go ahead and he’d catch up.  Somebody screamed right next to you, causing you to jump out of your seat.  You whip your head around.  No one was even in the dining area.  It sounded so real.  Like you could reach out and grasp the shattering inky blackness.  You take a couple of deep breaths.  Try to remember your happy place.  Tahiti, its a magical place.  Or so you’ve been told  You just picked it from a magazine that was open on the coffee table the night your mother set fire to the curtains in the living room.  The flames had licked up the page, burning the island resort into ash.  Boots thudded as they made way to where you were.  He slides in across from you.

“Um, the waitress’ll be right out,” you said softly.  He barely heard it over the rickety air conditioning.  He nods to show he heard.  He’s sitting close.  Closer than you’d thought another human would ever sit next to you again.  His hands are rough and calloused.  The sleeve cuffs of his hoodie are frayed; as if someone clawed at them.  Eyes traveling up his body, you take in more details.  The hoodie isn’t faded, its brand new.  He wears a bracelet of leather on his right hand, with a charm you can’t quite see.  His necklace is corded hemp, plain and understated.

A light stubble that’s maybe three days old covers his jaw.  His eyes... are piercing right through you. You take in a quick breath, not being able to look away.  You’d never seen that shade of blue before.   He’d been watching you watching him.  Quirking an eyebrow, ”See anything ya like, doll?” You start to sputter an answer but the waitress comes over.  “Sorry about the wait.  Here’s your-”  Blue eyes interrupts her, “We don’t need those.  I’ll have the special and she’ll have the ‘Its Impossible To Go Away Hungry’ plate”  “Okay, then.  I’ll get that right out to ya folks.”

You glare at him, he mirrors it with dicky nonchalance. “Why did you order for me?”  He leans forward, tilts his head the right the tiniest fraction.  “You’re starved.  I really don’t give a damn what kept you from eating but I ain’t gonna let you go without giving you a meal.  The steak plate is the biggest meal they have.  You can take a to go box, that is if you don’t eat the whole thing.”

“Oh.”  You cast out a huff, “Well, thank you.”  He flashes a killer smile. Pearly white teeth in a straight line.  Not an imperfection to be found anywhere.  A silence falls between the two of you.  You can’t decide whether its comfortable of not.

“My name is Bucky.  I thought you wouldn’t like eating with a stranger.  I like to doodle in the margins of my books sometimes.”  “Please tell me not library books.”  He scoffs as if you suggested the impossible, “Never.  Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Jury’s out on that, Bucky.”  He looks at you more intently now.  “Really?  Same could be said about you.  When I first spoke to you it was like a deer in headlights.  Ya running from something, sugar?”  He’d said it jokingly but you didn’t laugh.

“No.  Nothing like that.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shirley came back with your plates, and two root beers.  She left the check at the end of the table and Bucky swooped it up.  The meal passed by in the comfortable sounds of silverware clinking and ice clacking in the cups.  You both ate in record time.

You were careful to save enough for a second meal. That went into the to go container.  Now both cups were drained and plates scraped clean.  You start to slide out of your seat, mumbling a thanks but Bucky stops you.  “Wait, won’t you sit here a while longer?  I’d be kinda sad sitting here alone.”  After a moments hesitation, you resume your position.  “What do you wanna talk about?  It can’t be the weather.  Its been dry as bones for weeks.”   He ponders for a moment, “You.”  He shifts a little, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.

“I want to know what you’re running from, and see if I can offer...a distraction.”  That shocks you.  “Life?  Aren’t we all running away in some form or another?  I just happened to take the mobile route.”  You shrug, “What do you want me to say?  It was all shitty so I left it behind.  And as for the distraction part, I got a whore last night, so don’t bother.”  He is silent.  Just sits there and gazes at you.  You cock your head, getting impatient.  “Am I allowed to leave now?  Or do you want to talk about our feelings?”

“I slept with my best friends wife.”

“I-I’m sorry you what??”

“I slept with my best friends wife.  He owns half the town, what with him being mayor and all.  I couldn’t take it anymore, he’s always been the golden boy.  Always been the beacon of light.  I just wanted a slice of what he had.”  He looks up, his eyes are dead.  “She was willing, and I just... took her.  There on his desk.  He’d been out for lunch with some bigwig, and I made her cum twice on my cock.”  He chuckles darkly.  “That’d been the first time.  All the other times don’t matter, he doesn’t know about those.  But he does know about the time in the craft shed.  Peggy did pottery.

Had a nice little workshop, it was connected to the mansion they had.  I wanted to bring her pleasure in the place where she gets frustrated often, so she’d have something else to think about.  Steve caught us on the floor.  A big bunch of daffodils in hand.  Stupid, those weren’t even her favorites.”  He was gone now, lost in memories, not even knowing he was talking.  “Said he had come by to take her to lunch.  That was always like Steve.  Expected her to clear her schedule at the drop of a hat but never doing the same for anybody. He didn’t even get mad.  He just walked away, muttering something about his office.

Peggy said she could talk some sense into him.  The next day I found her in the garbage when I took out my trash.”  Your sharp inhale and big eyes do nothing to catch his attention.  “Steve comes strolling out of nowhere, said that she was a threat to his image.  Said that I need to leave or face the same.  I asked why he left me alive and he said ‘So you can remember the pain until you lay down in the ground and the mice and carrion drag your body up from its silk cocoon to feast.”

But that’s not all.”  He said the last bit so quietly, it was as if he said nothing.

“What?”  He’s crying now, tears are forming rivers in his eyes.  “She knew.  She knew  he was going to be there and that’s how she wanted to go out.”  Your puzzled expression makes him laugh.  “Don’t know many politicians, do you?  Good.  Keep it that way.  That day when the mail came I got a letter.  From her.  It said how she wanted to divorce Steve ever since he became the HOA president.  But she couldn’t.  He had threatened her once, just once and what he said was so blisteringly awful.  And he did it.  He is a man of his word, after all.  He kept his damn word.”

“So...she used you as an out?”  He winces.  You hadn’t meant to sound like that.

“Yes.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Out in the diners parking lot you say goodbye to James.  Wait.  No, no.  His name is Bucky.  He’s got a green  Chevy and blue eyes.  Or was it red?  It doesn’t matter anyway.  You back out and head for the next state, ignoring the blood leaking from the tarp in your trunk.  The screams have stopped.  And the moon is bright.

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Heat Waves Been Fakin’ Me Out-

(Can’t make you happier now). ━━━━━━━━━━━━ Word Count: 1679 TW: Anxiety Attack Author's Notes: This was inspired by that trend on TikTok when people reminisce to the chorus of Heat Waves by Glass Animals, and I realized that wow, this trend really fits Kisuke and the massive guilt he has. Let's exploit that. ━━━━━━━━━━━━ The sweltering summer heat settled across the city of Karakura, making it’s citizens suffer from the moment they opened their doors to leave their houses to the moment they reached their (hopefully air conditioned) location. Children played in the splash pads or in public swimming pools, dipping their feet in the rivers and streams, or crunched happily on flavored shaved ice. Anything to beat the heat, realistically.

Sweat slowly trailed down between tense shoulder blades as Kisuke listened to Rojuro sing along to the radio. The shop did have central air, thankfully, but even that didn’t seem to give a blessed respite from the heat that rolled in through the door every time it opened. He never had been good at handling the heat; had always suffered in the summers of Soul Society when he’d been young. Yoruichi used to tease him about it, despite being just as miserable at the time.

Thankfully, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the heat began to lift and a sweet summer breeze danced through the air. It was then that they were able to function as Tessai and Kensei worked on dinner. It was weekly, this little get-together, planned carefully to avoid detection or an accidental brush with someone from Soul Society- or someone with stolen powers and a horrible case of hero syndrome.

“Ne, Shin- hand me that cup, would you?” HIyori asked, not bothering to sit up from her sprawled position on the tatami. Kisuke couldn’t blame her- she suffered almost as badly as he did.

“Get it yerself,” Shinji stated even as he reached over, taking hold of the cup before handing it off to the other. She hummed her thanks and placed the bottom of the cup on her forehead, sighing at the feeling of the cool perspiration settling on her skin. Lisa let out a snort at the sight as she reached into her own cup, plucking out an ice chip to pop into her mouth. A moment later, she crunched down on it.

“That means you have an iron deficiency,” Hachi commented as he fanned himself, eyes closed. “Perhaps you should purchase some supplemental tablets.”

“Maybe,” Lisa murmured, gaze not lifting from the book she was engrossed in. “Or maybe I just like the way it feels when I bite down.”

“You always did like biting,” Rose mused with a smile as he brought in a fresh tray of drinks. “I remember watching you fight- you almost took a chunk out of Kyoraku-taichou.”

“I wonder if he scarred?” Mashiro questioned, her gaze darting about the room.

“Probably,” Kisuke hummed, grimacing at the way his haori clung to his skin. Gross. Even so, his mind began to drift. This was nice- seeing them all together, no one really arguing- hearing the laughter drift from the kitchen as Tessai tried to do an onion volcano, only for it to fail in a tiny puff of smoke. Love had settled in a chair, his feet propped up on Hachi’s leg, while Lisa leaned against the leg of the table. Hiyori lay away from them, trying to stay as still as possible to avoid any unnecessary movement. Mashiro wasn’t bothered- but she never had been bothered by the heat, especially not now. Yoruichi laid on the front porch, for once not in her feline form, enjoying the cool northern breeze.

Shinji was watching him, Kisuke noted belatedly- his brow raised, a question posed within his gaze but not spoken aloud. He waved him off idly, a lazy smile curling his lips but coming nowhere near his eyes. His head dipped, the brim of his hat settling low over his eyes.

This was how it used to be. Kensei and Tessai would work together in the kitchen with Mashiro “helping”- more often than not, they’d all gather in the Twelfth. It had the most room back then. Shinji would sit with him and Yoruichi, sharing in any news he’d heard recently; Lisa would arrive later, having been with her Captain, even if she denied it. Hachi would bring sweets that he graciously picked up from the Western Rukongai, and Hiyori would bring drinks-

Along with Aizen.

The mere thought was enough to cause a weight to settle in Kisuke’s stomach like a stone tossed into a shallow pond suddenly. The waves rippled throughout, sending out spikes of anxiety and guilt that settled in the palms of his hands and the back of his mind. His heart skipped a beat.

Silently, he rose to his feet and slipped away into the depths of the Shoten. The weight was back, settling across his shoulders, draping itself across him as if it were a thick blanket, suffocating him. His breath began to come quicker, his heart beginning to race in his chest, causing his palms to sweat. He almost stumbled when grabbing the handle for his bedroom, all but shoving himself inside before carefully, quietly, closing the door.

Breathe.

This was familiar, the anxiety. It happened more often than he’d like to admit. But by the Soul King, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like hands had wrapped around his throat and were squeezing, cutting off his air supply. His eyes closed, and all he could see was chestnut brown hair, a smile that was nothing more than a facade, and dark brown eyes. A gasp escaped him as he opened his eyes-

And found himself alone.

Alone.

Outside, they all sat. His friends. But this wasn’t where they belonged. They belonged back home, back in Soul Society, but that could never happen. Not with how they would be killed on sight if ever seen. How he himself had a kill order placed upon his head for a crime he didn’t commit.

But it was his fault, wasn’t it? All of this was his fault. His fault for bringing up the question of what would happen if a Shinigami became a Hollow. His fault for beginning research- he wanted to know what Hollows were like. He didn’t want to experiment. But he’d planted the seed, and unintentionally, watered it, causing it to grow into the beautiful flower it had become.

It was his fault Aizen started his experiments, he was certain of it. How else could it be explained? Why else would Aizen target Shinji? Target any of them? It was his fault, and then he’d been too fucking late to save them.

He should have been the one. He should have been the one who became Aizen’s experiment. It was his fault. His fault they had all essentially been killed, his fault they all now suffered with the Hollows that took up residence within their minds and bodies, his fault that they were no longer seen as Shinigami. His fault.

His fault.

All his fault.

His breaths came in choked sobs as he sank to his knees, reaching up to clutch at his chest. Calm down, Kisuke, calm down. Your reiatsu will spike if you don’t- the voice was soft, a croon in his ear. Benihime, his benevolent princess.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He swallowed roughly as he forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t afford to break- no, he needed to stay strong. He had to stay strong, stay sharp, stay ahead of the game. If he slips up, they could all die. He can’t do that. He already fucked their lives up once. He can’t let that happen again. Not again.

They can never return to what they once were- and it was his fault for that.

“Kisuke?” Shinji called softly, knuckles rapping on the wood of the shoji. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Kisuke croaked, grimacing at himself for how awful he sounded. “Just got- choked. ‘M fine!”

A sigh settled in the air as Shinji opened the door, stepped in, and closed it. “You’ve always been a shitty liar,” he murmured as he came over, settling down beside Kisuke. “What’s gotten into you, huh?” Voice soft as he questioned the other. Carefully, he reached up, brushing the remnants of tears away from flushed cheeks. “You look so broken when you cry.”

“Just the… Damn heat wave,” the excuse was weak. “I’m fine.”

Shinji didn’t respond; instead, he reached over to tug the other blond close, arms wrapping around him. “Damn cry baby,” he muttered as Kisuke laughed in a broken sort of way- almost bordering on a sob as he settled into his arms.

“Just the heat.”

“Sure it is.”

Kisuke fell silent, listening to the slow beat of Shinji’s heart. Alive, somewhat. He still wasn’t completely sure how it worked, the hollowfication. The impact it had on the body. Rose’s heart barely beat, while Mashiro’s sounded like a hummingbird’s. Strange.

“I miss it, too,” Shinji admitted after a moment. “We all do.”

“I know.”

“It’s not yer fault.”

“Right.” Liar, his mind whispered. He pulled away carefully, wiping at his face. A shower would be nice, but dinner came first. “Let's go eat,” he rose to his feet, holding a hand out for Shinji, who took it and let Kisuke pull him up.

“Kisuke?” Shinji called as the former captain made his way to the door. Kisuke paused, head tilting, yet he didn’t face him. “Y’know we love you, right?”

“I know,” you shouldn’t love a monster. “C’mon, my stomach’s growling and I don’t wanna miss out on Kensei’s coconut shrimp.”

A laugh escaped Shinji as he brushed past him, walking ahead of Kisuke, who hesitated for a moment, his head tilting back to study the bedroom. It felt as if something had shifted in that moment.

As if someone had done something.

Thunder rumbled overhead, a summer storm rolling in suddenly.

Strange.

“Kisuke! Get yer ass in here!” Hiyori yelled, startling him from his thoughts. A laugh tittered free as he finally joined his group once more. Even so, something scratched at the back of his mind.

Someone had just arrived in the World of the Living from Soul Society.

“Let’s eat!”

Here we go again.

[candychronicles]

boo // d. kaminari

A/N: this is my take on the horror, haunts and halloween bnharem server collab! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Denki Kaminari x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,315

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, car fucking, some extremely mild spooks

SYNOPSIS: who knew a little bet between friends could turn into so much more?

Want to see what other spooky, scary stories await? Click here to find out !

“boo!” 

“damnit Kaminari, you scared the hell out of me!” you screeched, whipping around to smack your friend on the shoulder. “besides, you should save all of the screams for the house tonight!”

he shrugged his body, clearly not bothered by your comment before proceeding to the men’s dressing area, makeup already adorned on his body. he was performing tonight as a sort of scary chainsaw man with bloodshot eyes and a dark streaked face. despite the outwardly appearance of his costume, he was, at least to you, a funny and extremely attractive guy. you two had spent your whole fall flirting and teasing in between hallways and sets, having fun and making people scared at the same time. 

you never meant to work at a haunted house, but you needed the money, and it seemed much more exciting to get paid scaring people and dressing up in cool costumes over working a seasonal retail job. due to your ability to at least fake a scary and eccentric personality, they hired you immediately, along with a few other people your age. you figured it would be a good way to meet new people and have fun but you were certainly not expecting to fall in love with the dorky yet extremely talented kid with the cool hair and outlandish jokes. 

your time in the dressing and makeup room didn’t take too long, adorning a creepy maid outfit with sunken black eyes and a wicked bloody smile. twirling the braids adorning your head, you skipped out of the room, ready to get into character and have another night of spooks.

“hey, let’s make a bet tonight, hm? make it a little more interesting?” Kaminari offered, sliding in beside you like he had been there all along.

“sure, what do you propose?” 

“let’s see who can get the loudest scream of the night. we’ll both be generally near each other, so no cheating or lying because i’ll be able to tell!”

“how are we going to measure that? what if it’s really close, what are you going to do about that?”

“rock, paper, scissors?” he countered, flashing his hands and gesturing the game with a devious smile.

“sure, why not. what do i get if i win?”

“anything you want, sugar.”

you attempted to ignore the comment, though your cheeks heated up and your eyes grew just a bit wider.

“how about you owe me dinner tonight?” you joked, flashing your own toothy grin.

“that all, dollface? i’d do that any day.”

“oh boo, that’s boring. make him wear your maid costume or something!” Kirishima shouted from across the hall, seemingly butting into your increasingly heated conversation. 

“now that’s an idea,” you teased, laughing along with Kirishima as Kaminari’s face turned bright red. 

“that’s nothing! i’d do that any day,” he claimed, quickly moving on, “but i say if i win then you owe me dinner. easy enough?”

you nodded your head in agreement, shaking on it and pressing your pinkies together for extra emphasis before heading towards your separate destinations, ready for the challenge.

the night started off easy, you both earning screams of varying levels, but every time you got one, he shot right back with yet another. your jaw clenched and eyes grew dark, not backing down from the fight.

the whole evening and late through midnight did you two fight back and forth, tooth and nail, bringing out your nastiest and scariest tricks, doing everything you could to jumpscare and creep out the people of the attraction, but it seemed that neither of you were a clear winner. you, however, were not going to let him get the satisfaction of saying he won.

the final group of the night came through and you managed a loud, shrieking scream from the guy in the front, a wicked smile on your face as you waved at Kaminari down the hall. he retaliated with his own scare but, at least you thought, it didn’t quite live up to your own haunt.

“i totally won, i don’t even know what you’re talking about!” he shrieked, shoving fries in his face with a huff, waving his arms around in a display of anger.

“my scream was louder and you know it. just admit it, i was better than you tonight!” you argued back, leaning forward to look him directly in the eye, challenging him to keep up the fight.

he looked away, cheeks tinged pink at your sudden closeness, before crossing his arms and looking back at you. 

“fine, i’ll pay for the food, but i still don’t think you won. i can make anyone scream louder than you.”

“oh yeah? why don’t you prove it?” you challenged, eyes unwavering and boring straight into the side of his face. 

he took a moment to ponder, unsure of what you meant, before he looked back, pupils blown wide in shock.

“waiter, i need the check please.”

it took all of thirty seconds after leaving the dingy late night restaurant before his mouth was on yours, hot and unwavering, hands tangled deep into the back of your hair, digits pressing roughly into your scalp.

“where to?” he asked in between kisses, walking backwards as you trailed after him, hands grasping his shirt like it was your only lifeline. 

“whatever’s closest,” you whispered back, feeling him hit the car with the back of his body.

he quickly whipped around, fishing frantically for the keys in his pocket before shoving the shiny object into the lock and twisting, whipping the door open and gesturing you sweetly into the car. 

before you had barely sat down, he slammed the door, rushing to the other side and opening his own door, sinking in and turning the vehicle on, haphazardly buckling his seatbelt as he peeled out of the parking lot towards his apartment.

the bad part about working at a haunted house was that it was in the almost middle of nowhere. there was a small town with a couple restaurants and stores, but most workers came from the college town over, meaning you two had a small drive before you made it back to either of your apartments. 

Kaminari gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles turning white from the pressure of trying to drive safely while getting there as fast as he could. his teeth ground into each other, face set in a harsh frown, stress permanent on his face.

“relax, we’ll get there eventually. you’ll kill the mood with your sour face,” you teased, reaching sideways to place your hand on his thigh. his body jumped at your touch, briefly turning to face you before veering off onto the side of the road, seemingly finding some close down parking lot with a few trees surrounding the area.

“i’m sorry, you’re just driving me crazy. you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted you, since the day i first met you. you were so cocky and confident in your interview, ready to have fun and be crazy in your acting, but the moment you stepped away, you became so sweet and kid, always greeting everyone with a smile and a wave. i couldn’t get enough of your duality, enamored in the way you could switch that smirk on like it was nothing. seeing you in that dainty little maid outfit you’re wearing doesn’t help all that much,” he confessed, wringing his hands together as he attempted to calm himself down. “truth be told, i don’t want to be that shitty guy who you think is only using you for sex, but after that little stunt you pulled in the restaurant, i don’t think i can wait any longer to fuck you.”

you blinked once, twice, three times, trying to process what he was saying before unbuckling your seatbelt and veering towards his body, chests pressed together as you managed to climb into his lap, attacking his lips with your own, relishing in the way he practically melted under your touch, eager to feel you on him once again.

“backseat. now.”

you climbed back without hesitation, flashing him a bit of your ass as you wiggled your way onto the seat, patiently waiting for him to come back. he followed without waiting, immediately pulling your legs onto the seat and hovering over you, hands on either side of your head.

“are you sure you want to do this?” he confirmed, brushing away a couple pieces of hair that was scattered across your face.

“yes, i’m sure. please fuck me.”

he wasted no time before attaching himself to you once again, lips finding purchase on your own, against your neck, your collarbone, unbuttoning the front of your costume to nip at your breasts, leaving marks that would surely last for days. despite the cramped position you two were in, you still felt slick pool in your panties, thighs rubbing against the side of his body as you attempted to create some friction to relieve the tension building up.

you whined, begging for more, but before you could speak up to ask him for something, anything, he had already obliged, reaching down to rub the pad of his thumb against your clothed nub. you moaned in response, the need for him only growing by the minute.

“please, Kaminari-”

“Denki, call me Denki,” he corrected, nipping at your throat as his fingers moved under the skirt and around your panties, “and don’t worry baby, i’ll take care of you tonight.”

with that final statement, he pulled your panties aside completely and pushed one finger slowly into your waiting body, shivering at the feeling of your wet insides sucking him in, greedily begging for more. your breaths became uneven and labored, but you remained patient, enjoying every feeling he pulled from your wanting cunt.

he continued his assault on your neck and chest as his fingers pumped in and out of you, adding one, two more fingers, stretching you out until you were sopping and begging for his cock. he paused for one moment, hastily pulling his pants down as best as he could. before he could get to his boxers, however, you reached past his hand, pulling them down and stroking his dick, admiring the way it twitched in your hands, swollen and leaky, wanting to be inside of you just as much as you need him. 

you pulled him back down by his shirt collar, kissing him fiercely as he adjusted his body once more, you aligning him to your entrance, legs hiked up around his body as he caged you in. he sunk in slowly, not holding back his moans as he appreciated the way your body sucked him in, like he was meant to be there all along.

you moaned with him, a string of curses and praises flowing out of your mouth like a siren’s song, luring him into your lair one word at a time. 

“Denki, fuck, you feel so good. please don’t stop.”

he bottomed out in your, laughing when you shifted your hips, whining as you tried to get him to move. he pressed a chaste kiss to your head before rolling his own hips back, shivering at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he continued his pace slowly, rocking in and out of you, watching the car steam up from your breathy moans and sweat covered skin, feeling the car move in tandem with your bodies.

you arched your back and wrapped yourself around him as best as you could, dazzled by the feeling of his cock pistoning in and out of you. he was so close, his breath against your ear, and you relished in the way he moaned and sighed, feeling just as good as you were in that moment. 

he felt himself getting close much quicker than he wanted, but in that moment, he didn’t care, too enveloped in the way you squeezed around him, nails biting into his back and eyes screwed shut. he moved one hand back down in between your bodies and found your sensitive bundle of nerves, pressing down and swirling around, moaning as he felt you compressed around his cock, the new sensation overwhelming for you.

“fuck, baby, i’m so close,” he moaned, settling his head into your neck, biting down softly into your shoulder.

you only nodded back in response, too worried about chasing your own high that was emerging quickly with the combined pleasure of his cock and his fingers.

you arched your back and squeezed your thighs together as white hot lava shot through your lower stomach, cumming intensely on his cock. the feeling of your velvety walls pulsating around his own quickly brought him to his own high as he slowed his pace down, shooting his load into you.

you both laid there, breathless and sweaty, before you looked at him and erupted in giggles, wiping some of the sticky hair off his face. 

“i really liked that,” you confessed, biting your lip and smiling shyly despite the position you two were still currently in. 

“me too,” he agreed, kissing your forehead before slowly pulling out, sitting up and reaching forward into his console to grab a stack of napkins, cleaning you and himself up as best as he could.

you sat up after him, dizzy from pure elation, before a smirk came across your face.

“so you’re saying i won the bet, right?” 

“i feel like i won the lottery tonight so yes, i’ll say you won the bet.”

“good,” you affirmed, reaching forward to grab his face in your hands, squeezing slightly before bringing him closer to you, “remember what Kiri said? i think i’m going to take his words to heart.”

he looked at you confused, shrugging, but as you stared at him, his eyes grew wide once more as he realized what you meant.

“you get to wear the maid costume next.”

Taglist: @redbeanteax​ @softforshigi​ @katsuki-bakugous-lady @secondhand-trash​ @freiyalight​ @crystal-lilac​ @khemz1312​ @runrabbitrun3​

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

[jwritesandrambles]

“Supposed to Be”

Hi there! Yeah I still barely use tumblr but hey lookit I did the wrote thing down!!!!

I would like to give a bit thank you to @schweeeppess and @dragonsworn05 for editing my messy dyslexic rambles. @noroomforcream and @just-a-little-in-over-my-head  did some really cool art for this! 

(if I missed tagging someone, it’s not personal I appreciate you so much, I’m just posting in a rush mwauh)

Jason was back in Gotham. For the second time since he died, actually.

The last time hadn’t gone well. Technically, it had gone according to plan--for the most part--but Jason was still shambling together the broken pieces of his mind. Back then in December, all that was left of Jason were the shards of hurt and anger. He had been living for nothing but the idea of someone else’s death. Coming back to the real world, away from the sheltered and hidden places of the League of Shadows and the All-Caste, seemed to bring a bit of him back. Seeing Bruce, talking to him…everything that went down, and the reminder that he cared about him--loved him, even--it woke something up in Jason. Something that he thought had died along with him and never came back. 

He had spent a year by himself, taking any mercenary jobs he could get, trying to find something other than the all consuming anger that had fuelled him for the past few years, but his travels didn’t matter now, as he stood in a back alley of Gotham, the protective red helmet tucked under his arm. He wished his replacement, Tim Drake, hadn’t chosen this particular alley to meet up in. 

The balcony and rickety old fire escape were unforgettable to Jason. It was where he had met the Bat, after trying to jack the tires off one of those many damn expensive cars that Bruce had. Not only where it began, but where he once thought it would end. It was only a year ago he had stood, gun trained on Bruce, the man he had, for a time, called father. His voice shook and tears rolled down his cheeks, “it would be so easy to kill you.”

Jason was ripped from his reminiscing as a soft thud signaled that Red Robin had landed behind him. Jason flinched more than he’d like to admit, but fought the urge to draw his weapon. Quick reflexes was a nice way of saying jumpy. 

“Hood,” The teen greeted. 

“Replacement,” Jason said with a nod, echoing Tim’s tone back at him, relaxing. 

“Weren’t you a replacement too?” Tim pointed out, seeming to take no offence. 

Jason shrugged, “True. I’m not denying it. Just as long as you know that’s probably what B expects. Another Grayson,” he mumbled. 

Sure, he was less angry than before, but that didn’t mean Jason wasn’t a bitter son of a bitch. 

Tim bit the inside of his lip, an awkward and slightly uncomfortable look on the visible part of his face. It flickered away and was replaced with a more professional, neutral expression as he cleared his throat. 

“Yes... well... We’re here for a job so let’s focus. You got all the information B sent you?” He was honestly trying his best, but he was hesitant about this mission. Could anyone blame him? Jason Todd had proven himself to be... volatile. The memories of Jason’s violence were all too fresh in Tim’s mind. 

“Yeah, I got it. I read the file over,” he mumbled. He puffed out a weak breath, “Scarecrow set up a chemical mixing shop by the docks, at least one shipment has come in, but we can expect more, right? Anything I missed?” Jason asked, rummaging through his coat pockets. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He had been trying to quit, but he didn’t want to be getting distracted with cravings while trying to focus on the mission. 

Tim watched him quietly as he lit off, smelling the tobacco from up on his perch. 

“Um... yes, that’s all,”  the teen dragged his teeth along the edge of his lip. The skin felt slightly raw and sore from his empty minded nibbling. 

Jason started walking off down the alley, leaving a slight trail of lingering smoke in damp air. Tim followed. 

“So,” Jason pulled the cigarette from his lips, careful not to let his helmet slip from under his arm. He held it between his first and second fingers, “Uh.. Why’d you have us meet here instead of anywhere closer to the docks?” He asked, trying to break the awkwardly growing silence.

“Scarecrow has patrols circulating around the docks. We’re less likely to be spotted if we’re not waiting around there to meet up,” Tim explains with a little shrug.

Jason hummed a brief note of understanding, “Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’m, uh, I haven’t worked with anyone in... years,” Jason paused, taking another drag from the smouldering cigarette, “Y’know, really nothing team oriented since working with B. Even then I was a shitty teammate,” he laughed hollowly.

Tim nodded, thinking about what Jason’d just said. Had it really been that long? Maybe… maybe the fact that Jason was even admitting to being a bad teammate didn’t bode well. It could mean trouble for them later. If it was so obvious that even Jason could admit it, perhaps Tim shouldn’t have done this team-up. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim ran to catch up to Jason quickly, “Wait... how old are you?” He asked upon reaching him. 

“I’m t- uh... hold on, well... how long was I gone?” He asked Tim in return. 

“You were thought to be dead for five years,” Tim told him, in a tone like he was reciting a Wikipedia page written about the formally deceased, wayward Wayne boy. Now that Jason thought of it, he was certain Bruce had a file written up on him now. Bruce had written up for every major criminal in Gotham city. 

Jason let out a low whistle and soft huff, “I must be… twenty one now? Weird.”

“So... you didn't know how old you were till now?” Tim raised a brow, causing the mask to shift.

“Yeaahh,” Jason drew the word out sarcastically, pretending to took him deep thought to reconcile. “Somethin’ about the severe head trauma, dying, comin’ back, and being isolated from the normal world for years, all while being a wreck the whole time seems to have made my memory a lil’ fuzzy,” Jason said with a wry, sarcastic smile.

Tim seethed silently, letting out a series of apologetic mumbles, eyes dropping to ground ahead of him- it was a tactless and rude thing to ask, and Tim should’ve known that! 

Jason laughed weakly, hand quickly coming up towards him and... ruffled Tim’s hair? The boy hadn’t even had a chance to recoil. He was just confused; that was the last thing he’d expect from Jason.

The man stubbed out his cigarette and lumbered on ahead of Tim, dropping it in the trash, “Don’t worry about it, kid. I was just being a bitch, you’re fine.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. A man who tried to kill him only a year ago had just ruffled his hair?! He decided not to comment on it, because-- after all--what the hell could he even say?

Tim cleared his throat again, “We should get into position, we’re almost there. Maybe get your, uh, helmet-thingy on?” He suggested. 

Jason glanced at the helmet- he’d almost forgotten he had it tucked under his arm. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said, lifting his helmet and plunking it on his head, “good reminder, Timbers.” His voice became modulated the second the helmet covered his head. His low, gravely, smokers growl of a voice, was nowhere near and deep and gravely as Bruce’s--but sounded like it took a step closer with every box of cigarettes--became a pitch lower still. An odd robotic twang edged his words, giving him a metallic, cyber sound.

Tim adjusted his own mask, making sure it was firmly in place before nodding to Jason. The two silently started up again, approaching a warehouse that was supposed to be locked until the next morning’s shipment. “Supposed to be” being the operative words. Instead, there was muted huffing and shuffling as two of Scarecrow’s workers uncomfortably hauled a large crate into the building.

Both Jason and Tim seemed to shrink into the shadows at the same instant; each becoming one with the wall. Jason drew his weapon quietly, earning a disapproving frown from Tim. “I’m not gonna kill them. Chill,” Jason whispered in that odd robotic voice. 

Tim seemed satisfied enough to quit pouting at Jason. They crept closer, making little dashes between hiding spots when the coast was clear.

Jason let out a breath of curse as his eyes fell about the giant, glass, canister. It was filled with a bubbling, sickly, arsenic green substance.

“No way, that shit is all fear toxin? Fuck! He’s got enough to blast the entire downtown!” His voice came through in a synthesized hiss.

“Worse.” Tim whispered, spying the large pressurizer on top of the glass container. “That’s just the liquid form. When he releases it, it’ll be gaseous. If it’s released from the container from a high vantage point, a small breeze could cover the entire city in minutes.”

The severity of the situation washed over what little of Tim’s features were visible from beneath the mask. 

This wasn’t just a quick little in and out operation anymore. One wrong move and there could have a small, yet very messy, catastrophic outcome.

Tim had to plan this carefully, because there was no way they could afford to mess this up.

He turned to Jason...or, rather, where Jason had just been seconds before. 

Jason had evidently had a similar train of thought to Tim’s. He’d realized this was a serious situation, though, instead of drawing the conclusion to re-evaluate, re-plan, and carry on with caution, or something sensible-- he seemingly forgot any sense of subtlety he had. Oh, God forbid carefully thinking his actions out, like any sane rational person would do. Or calling for backup, like anyone with a vague semblance of self-preservation.  No no, instead, Jason had decided it was best to act now and not waste a second with plans or any ideas of safety. He jumped into action.

Jason was already leaping over the crate the two vigilantes had been hiding behind seconds ago, as Tim let out a quiet imploring hiss of “Wait--oh no-”“ but it was too late.

Jason already had his gun drawn. 

“Scarecrow!” he yelled, “this ends now!” He fired at the box the two workers were carrying, sending it out of their hands and clattering to the floor. A series of shattering followed the initial crash as the contents shattered. Whatever chemicals that had been inside hissed loudly, a faint smoke rising from between the boards of the wooden box.

“Hood!?” The Scarecrow rounded to face who he knew as the ex-criminal, ‘The Red Hood.’

“In the flesh.” Jason kept his gun trained on Scarecrow, while a third worker who had been off to the side started to shuffle his way towards him.

“Thought you moved your little operation away from Gotham when the Bats got the better of you,” Scarecrow commented, not seeming pleased about the interruption at all. 

Scarecrow’s worker lunged at Jason. Tim kicked himself mentally and left hiding, kicking the worker --physically, not mentally this time-- back away from Jason. The third worker scuttled back, apparently deciding this altercation was above his pay grade.

Jason felt something he hadn’t really felt in a long time; it was a feeling akin to camaraderie. He had someone watching his back for once. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, he might have even cracked a smile. Or, rather, he might have felt a slight tug at the corner of his lips, at least.

“Well, yeah, the bats did get the best of me. Now I’m tryna give them my best. And that involves bootin’ your sorry ass out of here.”

“Quick witted, aren’t you?” Scarecrow tensed slightly. His eyes darted away from behind his mask for a moment. He was glancing to the side. Tim followed his gaze over to the-

Shit! The canister! If the bullet missed Scarecrow it would-

Tim knew what scarecrow was thinking, but it was too late.

“NO!” Tim shouted, helplessly watching as Scarecrow dove.

As expected, Jason pulled the trigger reflexively, but the Scarecrow had already ducked. The bullet made a resounding bang as it fired, hitting the large gas canister. 

Tim seized up, every nerve buzzing, every muscle tensed, every fibre of his being filled with an awful sinking sensation. The room was deadly-still. It was like something written by the hand of a fool-hardy novelist, who was paid far too much for over-the-top paperbacks; The bullet had embedded itself in the glass, acting like a stopper. A sickening series of cracks emanated from the canisters, as a thin spidery web formed across the glass. All tendrils originating from where the bullet hit.

Jason let out a low whistle, “Well. That coulda been disastrous.”

Tim couldn’t help but feel relieved, a stressed laugh escaping his lips. 

Scarecrow was scampering away, his workers already having pulled a quick disappearing act themselves, because, this wasn’t what he’d planned. 

“Don’t even think about it, Crane,” Jason said as he turned, taking a heavy step.

Said heavy step was apparently too much. The glass gave a shuttering groan, followed by a small hiss as gas began to leak.

Tim made an involuntary distressed sound. Something akin to an exhausted sigh mixed with a whimper. 

The one word that ever so eloquently graced Jason’s lips was, “Fuck.”

And the canister...

Burst.

The pressure placed on the glass had built up and could no longer hold.

Jason’s final step had been the breaking point, the spider work of cracks along the glass giving way with a great shatter.

Shards of the canister flung themselves across the room. The liquid that had been held within instantly began vaporizing into a thick, sickening gas. To anyone that had the misfortune of inhaling it, it felt as though the gas was trying --with every atom of its existence-- to choke the life out of its victim. It reached into their lungs, clawed at their insides, grabbing at their desperately beating hearts, and squeezed. It forced their brain to fill their body with adrenaline and hallucinogens. Tim knew this. 

He’d studied the Scarecrow’s fear toxin many times. He’d been exposed to it before, too. Tim knew this fear and knew he was helpless to do anything about it.

Tim was helpless to stop this. He had failed. He’d failed Bruce. He’d failed this mission. Because he was weak. He was weak, helpless, hopeless, a failure, a burden, unwanted. He was nothing more than a replaceable replacement. No one would care if he was gone, God, it’s not like anyone would ever notice! He was a forgettable nothing. Tim coughed and wheezed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

Tim staggered. He tripped over his feet trying to get away from the intense fear that gripped his throat. Tim realized something physical was gripping his neck. The thing dragged him back roughly, towards what he could only assume was something horrid. Tim clawed at the thing gripping his throat. As he gasped for shuddering breath, he couldn’t help but begin to sob. He was going to die. He would die and no one would care. No one would even try to find him when he didn’t come home, they wouldn’t even notice because he was worthless, replaceable, weak, failure, helpless!

A new level of fear washed over Tim as he felt something cover his face, it encased his head. Tim could feel it squeeze his skull, he swore the pressure felt tight enough to crush his cranium like a tin can. It was claustrophobic. He felt his own shallow breath bounce back against his lips, because it had nowhere else to go. He was trapped and suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t BREATHE! OH--oh, oh no... no? Wait a moment... he COULD breathe.

Tim took a moment to try to get his bearings. He needed to remember how his lungs worked. He awkwardly sucked in a breath of filtered, recycled air. It tasted tinny on his tongue. Tim blinked the tears from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, and he became aware of the taste of salt too. There was the faint scent of stale tobacco and smoke. His mind was reeling as he processed each detail. He dragged tongue over his lips nervously, and began to chew at his bottom lip. Tim’s heart was still pounding and his hands were shaking. He raised his hands to feel his head, glancing at his twitching fingers as they passed in front of his face, confusedly. Everything had a red tinge to it. He pressed his hands to his head, feeling a hard smooth surface.

Tim’s brain felt slow and groggy, taking a moment to clue into what was on his head. Was it Jason’s helmet? Yes, yes it was Jason’s helmet, that was certain, but where was Jason? 

The thick gas still hung in a green fog, but the helmet seemed to be filtering the worst of it out. Tim swept his arm though the air, watching the gas clear slightly, before swooping in to fill the gaps. Tim knew he needed to thin this stuff out if he wanted to have any hope in finding Jason before tripping over him. He rushed through the room, feeling his way over to the door. Scarecrow’s men had closed it, containing them --and more importantly the gas--  inside. Small mercy the fear toxin wasn’t being released on the city though. 

Tim dragged his fingers along the wall. His senses were so heightened that it was almost overstimulating. It was likely due to the toxin, Tim guessed. He could still feel the rough brick as he scraped along, even through the tips of his gloves. It was oddly reassuring. A steady constant he could focus on until -thunk-  His hand bumped into a smooth metallic protrusion from the wall. Exactly what Tim had been looking for. 

“Bingo.”

Tim swept his other arm through the air again, doing his best to fan the gass away for him to get a bit of a better view of what he was hoping to see. A metal switch box, old and slightly rusted around the edges. Tim had been counting on any wearhouse by the docks having a ventilation system to keep the products safe from humidity. Of course, he was right. With some difficulty, Tim wrenched the switch box open. After straining to read faded, dusty labels through the gas in the air, he flipped what he hoped was the right switch.

There was a small whine of aching metal that hadn’t moved in a long time and Tim cracked into a grin underneath the helmet. 

He’d done it!

The fans kicked into a regular pace. The smooth ‘whoomp whoomp whoomp’ of turning blades filled Tim with a sense of muted triumph. The foggy haze of fear gas began to thin as the building began to filter it out, mixing it with the humid air. Tim figured it would be condensed and drip out to puddle with the dirty water in the alley behind the warehouse. If Tim was right, which he usually was, it wouldn’t harm anyone unless they decided to drink from the puddle water. Which was unlikely, but not impossible. It was Gotham after all.

Tim looked around the room as the gas dissipated. His gaze found its way to a shaking heap on the floor next to the shattered remains of the canister he had been standing before. The proud grin faded from Tim’s lips. 

That... that wasn’t a good sign at all.

“Hey, um, hood? Red hood, status?” He asked, the words felt strange as they left his mouth. Hearing his own modulated voice echo slightly in the room felt vaguely surreal. 

The heap of muscle and leather known as Jason didn’t reply. 

Seeing Jason’s twitching body on the floor emptied a hollow pit in Tim’s stomach. Jason had never seemed like he was even capable of fear. Capable of rage, capable of hurt, and capable of pain, sure, but fear seemed like something Tim would’ve assumed Jason was beyond. Something so... innate, that the unnatural nature of Jason’s second life would’ve swept it away. 

Tim made his way over, hesitantly rolling the helmet forward off his head. The fear toxin seemed to be thin enough now that it wasn’t harming him.  

“Ja-er, Jason?” Tim’s soft voice seemed thunderously loud in the quiet room. The only other sounds around were the fans quietly whirring away and, far more disturbingly in his opinion, the even quieter shaking breaths and distressed whimpering tumbling from Jason’s lips. 

Jason was not in good shape. He was shaking violently, hands over his head. His whimpers were punctuated by violent spasms that racked his body every few seconds, accompanied with a louder more pronounced cry. 

Tim felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly kneeled down, setting the helmet on the concrete floor next to them both with a slight clink. Tim grabbed Jason’s arm, trying to turn him on to his back. Jason heftily flailed the arm Tim pulled, unintentionally hitting Tim in the face. Tim yelped in surprise as a sharp pain sprung from his nose, warm liquid leaking down his face. The blood pouring down his face didn’t deter Tim much, the blood coursing through him  seeming to do the opposite for pain as it did the rest of his senses. The pain was slightly numbed--or, rather, it had become easy to ignore. He fought to wrangle both of Jason’s arms, quickly scrambling to sit on Jason’s torso, struggling to pin Jason’s arms down with his legs. 

Tim took off his mask. He knew it was against protocol, but an un-obscured face was easier to recognize when the toxin took hold, in Tim’s experience. 

“Jason? Jason, look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked quickly, holding on to Jason’s shoulders. He desperately hoped Jason wouldn’t throw him off. Jason’s eyes were unfocused, spinning around wildly all over the room. 

Tim tried to process Jason’s words, “No, not again, ple--I can’t I--it hurts! Fuck! It hurts,” Jason’s words became incomprehensible for a moment, then his fists clenched tightly. “I don’t want to die! Not again. Not again not again not again! He’s gotta come save me, take me home, he’s gotta! Shit, not again!“ he choked and broke off with a shout and another full body jerk. 

Tim was jostled but didn’t fall off, by some miracle. “Jason!” he tried. “Listen to me!” Tim put his hands on either of Jason’s face. Jason flinched away from Tim’s touch with a sob of “It hurts, it hurts, I can hear all my bones snapping, I’m dying, it’s crushing me, I can’t--I can’t--”

“I know,” Tim cut him off gently, “I know it hurts and--and you’re scared, but you’re not alone, I’m right here. I’m going to help you,” Tim tried to catch Jason’s focus. 

Jason’s roaming eyes stopped dodging around the room, and turned towards Tim. He kept looking from Tim’s shoulders, Tim’s chest, back up to his face and then to his eyes and back to his chest again. Perhaps not the ideal image of calming down but it was a first step. 

“Good,” Tim praised softly in relief. He ran his thumbs over Jason’s cheeks gently. Now more so than ever did Tim take notice of the scars on either side of Jason’s face. On Jason’s left cheek, there was a jagged line that traced from his cheek bone down to his jaw. A similar yet smaller one was mirrored on Jason’s right. Tim could understand why Jason flinched from him. He shook the thought from his mind, “See? We’re okay. Just try to breathe, in and out. You can do that, right, Jason?”

“No! No! I c-can’t, I’m crushed, I can’t. My--my lungs, they’re all full of blood, and mud, and dirt, and fuckin’ I dunno what!” Another violent thrash went through Jason’s body, almost toppling Tim off this time. “I can’t breathe, it hurts! I want it to stop hurting! How do I make it stop!?” 

“Uah--yeah, I know it hurts, but I promise nothing is crushing you. It’s just me, I’m light, and I’m here and I--I know it hurts I’m going to try to make it stop but I need to--” Jason thrashed, but Tim didn’t relinquish his hold on him, “--but I NEED you to stay still!”

Jason’s eyes finally locked on to Tim’s, “M-make it s-stop?” he echoed back to the smaller vigilante.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to try to make it stop.” Tim slowly pulled his hands away from Jason, sitting back slightly, starting to fish through the many pockets and pouches attached to the strap around his waist.  

He almost always had the antidote on hand. Bruce had trained him and prepared him meticulously, making certain that Tim would be ready with everything they had at all costs. The only issue was it was enough antidote for him; almost seventeen, about a head shorter and ninety pounds lighter--nowhere near enough antitoxin for the two hundred and forty pounds of murder that was the shaking mass of Jason Todd slumped before him.

Jason dropped his head back against the concrete floor, beginning to mutter once again. 

“My fault. All my fault. I can’t--all dead.”

“No one is dead, Jason, everyone is okay,” Tim said, soon after feeling a small surge of triumph as he located his field fear toxin antidote kit. He opened it, quickly pulling out a small vial, and a syringe.

Jason’s eyes snapped to the syringe in Tim’s hand as he filled with antidote. Jason grew quiet for a second before starting to try to fight Tim off of him, “No, no no no no no no! Don’t go! don’t go! Not again, I can’t be alone, can’t be asleep he’s gonna kill us. Dad said he’ll get rid’f his mistakes!” 

Tim knew Bruce wouldn’t have ever threatened Jason like that. He could only assume Jason meant his biological father. 

“Said he would--don’t, don’t! It’s crushing me I can’t be alone!” Jason couldn’t keep hold of his own fears. They ran together, all mixed in to become some dread filled nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 

Tim was lucky Jason was so sloppy in this state. If he’d had a bit more of his wits about him, Tim figured Jason would’ve easily shaken him off already.

“You aren’t alone!” Tim reminded Jason, struggling to inject Jason without hurting him. “This is going to make it stop, I promise!” Well, that wasn’t fully true. But the dose would reduce it. 

When Jason wouldn’t hold still enough for him to properly gauge where the vein he needed was, Tim unceremoniously jabbed at where he hoped it was instead. 

Jason shouted, thrashing around like a heavy shark in a net being lifted out of water.

Tim pulled the empty syringe away quickly, letting Jason throw him off. He stumbled and crashed back down, landing on the concrete floor a few feet away. Tim only now realized how heavy his breath was as he watched Jason writhe freely on the floor before him. As Tim caught his breath, Jason’s movements gradually began to slow. The mutterings of fear faded into soft whimpers, then into deep breaths like Tim’s. Tim bit at his lip again. “Jason?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jason groaned in response. He took a moment to collect himself as he grew conscious of reality again. Really, reality was a shit hole too, but it was a better shit hole. He shifted slightly, cussing under his breath. 

Tim felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders; swearing like a sailor was promising in Jason’s case. 

He quickly scooted across the floor to him. 

“Hey,” Tim said in a hushed voice. “Jason? How you feeling?”

Jason--with what felt like the struggle of Sisyphus rolling his boulder for the millionth time--rolled over to face him. The white shock of hair stuck to Jason’s forehead with panic induced sweat. He puffed out a lungful of air in a feeble attempt to blow the hair from his face. Jason swiftly gave up on that and swallowed heavily.

 “I-I... yeah, yeah, I uh... I--okay. I’m feeling okay,” Jason rambled, looking dazed. He took up scanning the room again, hyper-vigilant to any danger.

Tim nodded slowly. He grabbed a water bottle that was shoved in one of his many pouches. He helped Jason sit up, just enough so he could sip at the water, and forced the bottle into Jason’s hands. 

“Drink,” Tim ordered, quietly. 

Jason’s hands still shook lightly, causing him to fumble with the cap in his hands. 

Now that the danger had passed, Tim finally had time to process what had happened; he often found himself acting and only having time to absorb the details afterwards. Details like that Jason had traded his safety and immunity for Tim’s. 

Why did Jason do that?

“Not... that I’m ungrateful,” Tim began hesitantly, “but that was a stupid thing to do, just… now- today,” he stumbled out awkwardly.

“I know,” gasped Jason after a long chug of water, a weak smile on his lips. 

“I mean--it’s like in those before flight messages on planes. Put your mask on before the baby’s or whatever,” Tim joked slightly. Tim’s nose wrinkled slightly, cringing just the tiniest bit as he realized he implied he was the baby in this situation, “Well, you know what I’m getting at…”

Jason seemed to only take even more amusement out of the teen’s regret. Tim never thought he’d see the day where he felt tension draining at the sigh of Jason Todd, a man that tried to kill him and about eighty other people, smiling. 

Jason laughed weakly, though it came out a little haltingly, as the shivering shakes hadn’t yet subsided. “Yeah, well, I d-did have my mask on. I just... gave it to the k-kid before the plane went down,” he mused. He didn’t really believe in his own point, and shook his head. 

“No, no you’re right. It was stupid and I know that.”

They fell into a slightly awkward silence for a second, the burning question still gnawing at Tim’s mind.

“Why?” Tim said, abruptly. “Er, why did you do that? If you knew it was stupid?”

Jason didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead stalling by taking another swig of water. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before answering.

 “I don’t know,” Jason admitted, with a little smile. 

Jason was breathing heavily, but seemed more focused, “I didn’t... really think. Maybe I was just makin’ up for other stuff I f-fucked up or... dunno. I guess I j-just... I knew if one of us was gonna be safe, it had to be y-ou.”

Jason swore he could practically see the little loading sign twirl in Tim’s nerd-brain as the teen processed what he’d said. The mental loading bar filled, and Jason’s words seemed to click. Tim’s eyes dropped away, and he smiled a little shyly. Not an awkward or uncomfortable smile. Just complimented.

“Thanks,” Tim’s voice was just above a whisper, “ that was... really nice of you.” 

“It’s okay, don’t men-ention it. Like literally ever. It’ll ruin my rep,” Jason cracked a teasing smirk once again and Tim got to his feet laughing lightly.

“Annnnddd he’s back to normal,” Tim chuckled and offered Jason a hand. Tim yanked him, not without obvious difficulty, up to stand tall. Jason leaned on him for a moment before straightening, keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder to steady himself. Tim quickly bent down and scooped up their masks from the floor where he’d set them down.

“Let’s get you home,” Tim hummed, putting Jason’s arm around his shoulders again when he stood.

“Hey, I’m fin-ne, you don’t have to take me back,” Jason argued, but Tim was already starting to lead him away.

“Too bad, I decided I am.”

“Rep-placement Robin number whatever you are--I am fine!”

“Sure you are, that’s why you can’t stand up right by yourself?”

“Shut up!”

“I speak only truth.”

The two bickered all the way back through away from the docks. All the way back through the city. All the way until they reached Jason’s apartment complex. Then they bickered some more. Though neither knew it yet, what had begun forming was the beginning of a close bond. One that nothing would be able to break.

[dubsxreader]

worship the king //.o1 // shigaraki tomura x female!reader

summary: after the soul crushing realization that you're not meant to be the Hero you've spent your life training to be, you hunt down the most indiscriminate killer you know: Dabi. his man-child of a leader being there only makes the task easier, right? too bad Shigaraki has a knack for seeing things in others they don't see themselves. wc: 3,312 playlist: here!

rated: M for dark and mature themes; future lewd tw: suicidal ideation (seriously don't read if you're in a bad mindset this probs won't help), depression, toxic thoughts, manipulation, the start of a v dependent, idolizing relationship ie "worship" in all definitions of the word haha. Shigs taking advantage of a mentally vulnerable hero basically; dead dove do not eat for that reason.

a/n: this is something I wrote almost year ago now, when I first fell head over heels for Shigs and really felt like bnha was saving me from insanity haha. I have 15 pages of notes for this fic, but for now, for the King's birthday, this is my thank you to him and a year of loving Shigaraki Tomura <3 also to the xreader community for being my gateway into every fandom that takes over my life haha. will be posted to ao3 later

You stand on a cracked, littered rooftop, sullenly looking over the calamity you figured would be destroying the lives of every day, happily unaware citizens tonight. A slight sigh of relief leaves your chewed-to-hell lips, hidden to your own addled mind but glaringly apparent to any of your fellow heroes who’d commented on your state of mind the past few months.

You appreciated their care, you really did—for all the surface level care it could give, that is. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t understand. They were simply more Heroic than you, official capital and all. More driven, stronger, faster… But you’ve been doing the absolute best you can, and you were sure of that. Days–weeks months?–of harshly honest self speculation assured you of your failures and of the fact that, simply put, you weren’t cut out for shouldering multitudes of lives every time you stepped out your door. Heroism didn’t just end when you took off your costume; no, it was an ideology that should be ingrained into the soul of the costume wearer, and you’d come to the jarring conclusion that, after all your special training, you just weren’t up to snuff.

You couldn’t even save yourself from your own demons. How the hell were you supposed to save those more deserving of life if you couldn’t cope with your own shit?

A small, condescending snort leaves your nostrils as you observe the blue flames engulfing the area below you. Fucking worthless. What was the point, then? Hours of support Hero's work on your items, costume—wasted. The countless words of love and support from friends and family. Ha. Your eyes track the small movements of the current chaos’ perpetrators with a keenness you've found twisted comfort in recently. A familiar, all encompassing fixation gears up that brings you out of the cloud of self-doubt, hate, and deprecation that was so, so wrong to feel as a Pro-Hero in today’s society. In this bubble there's a solution, so it's okay. You let out a numbing breath.

Maybe you could give the Villains +1 morality in the eyes of whatever twisted being rested on their laurels, idly watching as you drive yourself insane.

A swift gust of wind knocks the empty cans and bottles from their peaceful resting places as you leave your perch, descending into the empty alley below to begin your last stand against yourself. Resolute and heavy steps echo in the widened, deserted streets of the city you vowed to protect—a small, still aware part of you thankful it’s so late at night that most would be sleeping. Your targets (saviors?) usually moved when they would make the most social impact, but you’d been tracking a certain member that didn’t seem to adhere to their strict schedule.

Whoever they were behind the obvious moniker, they seemed to kill liberally. It should be easy. You take a numbing breath.

The stench of burning flesh and ash is suddenly all too pungent, assaulting your senses enough to kick your mind into another, more logical plane and question how stupid you’re being. How disappointed everyone who knew you would be. Izuku and Hitoshi, especially, had been trying their hardest to devote extra time to you recently, you knew that—fuck, how selfish were you to bring their attention away from a goal they’d fought so hard to achieve?

The flames are smoldering char on concrete when you arrive at the end of another alleyway, just as dirty as the one you’d come from… But the incineration just seemed to have cleansed the way of its trash. You nearly sigh again in morbid relief when you see two men still standing there in the aftermath. You can see from behind that the man you’ve been tracking, Dabi, still has his left arm extended, as if relishing the memory of his flames destroying the ones he deemed unworthy.

Hands in your hero costume’s pockets, you steel yourself in your usual Hero emotions: indignation, conviction, disgust at the idea of them feeling they had a right to do anything going against the grain of the society you were indoctrinated into. You clear your throat with the last of your practiced confidence, bringing the sights of the two Villains to your own frame shadowed by the bright street lamp at your back.

“You two aren’t planning on getting away with this, are you?”

Your simple, deadpan drawl has both men scoffing to themselves and sharing a look of exasperation and annoyance. They clearly want nothing more than to be done with whatever the hell they were doing; your gaze sharpens in acknowledgment while their own take note of your hero costume. This is it. This is really it. You’ve done it. Is it really what you want?

Your eyes ice over, hardening to protect your vulnerabilities when they meet those of the second man’s own carmine flecks, so unflinching and so, so bored from behind his trademark hand.

Yeah. This is it.

Resignation freezing the rest of your visage and nothing left to say, you dash forward with simple physical speed, locking onto the Villain you recognize as the leader of the League of Villains himself. Sure, Dabi was a proven relentless killer, but you figure if you go after the leader himself there would be even less hesitation or time to think on either side. They were both reportedly unflinching, ruthless, uncaring and absolutely evil, but Shigaraki’s devilishness was practically beaten into you at this point. He was the obvious candidate, the oddness of his presence meaningless yet welcome at this point.

Your eyes never leave his as you take those last three lunging leaps, your arm cocked back in a hopeful show of some impressive power you might possess, in a display grand enough to paint yourself as a threat if not at the very least an annoyance.

Blue flames lick at the back of your costume. You’d somehow been faster than Dabi’s flames, which made no sense at all—you weren’t fast in any capacity if you were to judge yourself. It must’ve been a misfire. Lucky you’ve targeted the faster acting Villain.

Something distinctly odd flashes in his previously disinterested eye as you rush him, your Quirk barely powered yet still reflecting in his observation as you aim for the mask. Your own, in contradictory spite, slows as your mind races, brushing the hand enough to feel the inexplicitly soft and leathery texture, knocking it clean off the face of the man you’d targeted. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the anticipation of the end, but you don’t feel anything near what you thought you’d feel when his living hand grazes your outstretched arm. If anything, it feels like an angry wasp had come at your elbow in some sort of misguided revenge attempt. Bearable.

Fucking livable.

You skid to a shaky stop feet behind them, your glare going to the small hole in your costume’s arm where he’d made the briefest of contact. The skin had only begun to crack and decay from a central point; nothing near the scale and intensity you’d been warned about by your superiors and peers. What the fuck gives?

A desperate rage threatens to erupt at the lack of damage. You feel cheated. Your eyes shift from the minimal damage to the apprehensive yet notably curious eyes of your chosen euthanasist. Was he just not taking you seriously? You didn’t blame him, but…

“I thought the League was the best of the best?” The sting in your arm is mockingly there and you scoff, barely hiding your indignation at his unfulfillment of the role you’d forced upon him. You take it and use it to fuel the crumbling foundation of your resolve, ashing it to the ground yourself and focus on the slightly slumped figure topped with white-blue hair.

His eyes are now magnetized and piercing, never wavering from your own, adding to your rage and confusion. Just what is he getting at, looking straight at you in the fucked up state you’re in and just–just fucking seeing–?! You aren’t looking for pity, fuck all if it's from the person you’ve deemed would have the balls you didn’t to end this shitty nightmare you live in. With a primal, anguished and utterly guttural scream you dash forward once more towards Shigaraki Tomura, hand erupting in a more accurate show of your true power.

Once again, he simply guides your attack away from him into empty space, this time with a deft shove of his index finger. Silent and calculating. You stumble on your feet as you land, ignoring the insulting sting, and turn to face them at a pace you know isn’t up to Hero standards but unable to even fake it anymore. Your eyes, though.

They fucking call to him.

How could he dust you? A Pro-Hero, coming at him alone, a deadly ally at his side, with what he knew from his research to be nowhere near their quirk’s power and potential?

Nevermind the look in your eyes he’d recognized immediately—this Hero was asking to be killed. Cracked lips twitch to grin at the situation. His mind works at full throttle to balance the possibilities.

“Heh…” The small breath leaves him, a smirk winning out and pulling at already taught skin, “You’re looking to die, aren’t you, Hero?”

Your brows furrow in… Fuck, you can’t identify your feelings at this point–they shouldn’t matter–they’d become obsolete the moment you took a swing at the supposedly impulsive and irrational Villain in charge. All you can feel is the overwhelming sense of weight, of pressure, of absolute and total CHAOS destroying any semblance of unity you’d pulled together to end this.

“What the fuck does that matter to you, Villain?!” Your glare is full of a rawness you can’t recognize, let alone mask, “Fucking fight me or die!”

His smirk, now fully on display, stretches to the smuggest of smiles as he takes his experimental first steps forward, casually retrieving the hit hand and placing it safely in his trench coat pocket. You weren’t immediately attacking him—hell, you weren’t even defending yourself! You’d only be more obvious if you’d delivered yourself to his doorstep tied in a bright, blood-red ribbon labeled “do what you want, I don’t care anymore!” It made his blood simmer, his skin itch in excitement at all the optional routes opened up before him.

Quickly, too quickly to deploy your defense {even if you wanted to}, he’s in your face and encircling your neck in a four fingered grasp. Your eyes vaguely mark Dabi looking on with a detached interest, and you can’t help but mirror his lack of understanding—your emotions and thoughts unfortunately too far past controllable to be hidden behind the usual Heroics.

“You could still serve a purpose, you know.”

Narrowed (e/c) eyes meet piercing, analytical rubies set to freeze and crumble enemies. You have no answer to that, none at all—if you hadn’t come across another anything while you’d been searching in earnest, how could it be tossed into your lap from the hands of a Villain? Your clear disbelief doesn’t deter him in the slightest. It only gives him the subtle signals he needs to ensure a dedicated new member of his team. This situation could only go well for him and the League, if he plays it right, and he’s thankful Dabi knows when to shut the hell up and take the back seat when he truly should.

He’s never seen Shigaraki’s version of recruitment before. After Dabi's climate destroying display, he could use a lesson.

On the edge though this Hero is, the line is thin and the touch needed is delicate and calculated.

“You can make a real difference in this rotten world,” Shigaraki slowly lowers his defensive arm and loosens his grip on your neck, conveying his intentions to calm you. He notices this strikes an especially sore nerve that you’re too unhinged to recognize. You’re taken over by your emotions, unable to distinguish that you’ve offered your weaknesses to your enemy on a silver platter. Disgusted rage he’s now certain is self-focused meets him, only bringing him a step closer to your frozen and highly panicked figure. His free fingers fidgets on the clammy skin of your neck, tapping a pattern across your throbbing pulse, expectant and soft while the other stays loosely, carefully, against your clavicle.

It's constant.

It's… calming?

No, it's fucking overwhelming and uncomfortable and— As if your body’s acting on the last vestiges of your studies, you struggle in his grasp and pull your dominate arm back, channeling all your sadness and panic you’d been unable to expel into the attack you hoped would just fucking end this fucking end this it’s done—

Another four fingered grip captures your wrist, directing your power away from anything important and only ruffling Dabi’s clothes as he watches on. You choke on a cry, near your mask’s end with Shigaraki’s unexpected patience. You’d been told this was nothing more than a spoiled, raging, calloused young man entirely unable to connect with any feelings other than his own selfish need to destroy all Heroes he came in contact with. The only conclusion your racing mind can come to is that he doesn’t even view you as a Hero worth destroying. Thick and torrid tears rush from your eyes, betraying your need to be recognized and being denied that luxury in your final moments.

“I can’t even get what I need from you fuckfaces—!” Your cry rings out, eyes shutting tightly, shaking with the force of your emotions finally finding the breaking point they need to crash through into the real world, “What the fuck can I do to make a fucking difference?!”

Shigaraki pauses to assess your sobbing. You’ve all but folded into yourself; you would’ve disintegrated against his hold on your neck if he hadn’t been paying attention. No… he sees you. He sees you. His fingered grip on your neck slides up to force your head to follow, meeting his sure gaze. You’re lost. You’re anxiously grasping at anything you can to stop the burning, itching need to destroy your own mind… And he gets that. He knows what it took to hook him tightly into his own mindset. He knows of seeing a seemingly impossible goal set before him, of feeling unworthy and needing to prove himself to his peers and himself. If anyone could reshape you... it would be him. If anyone were to reshape you... it should be him.

“It isn’t fair, is it…?” He starts slowly, voice dripping with cooing understanding, gauging your expressions and body, “You work so hard to be what others want you to be… And never feel enough, even when you put your all into it.” Your whole being shudders at his words, breaking down and melting into the pressure of your expectations for yourself. You choke on another messy sob, tears blinding you, snot nearly reaching your lips, a trail of drool unknowingly slipping from the corner of your grimacing lips.

“We’d never expect more than you can give, you know,” He all but whispers into your ear, his words echoing with staying power. You miss the tiniest bit of excitement he lets slip into his tone at the thought of corrupting a fairly strong Hero to his cause with mere psychological one-upmanship. The power over your entire existence is an intoxicating prize and he’s not about to let go of it if he can help it.

A sad cross between a whimper and a cry escapes you as you crumble even more into a hold you’d only come to for annihilation. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why weren’t you dead? You’d wanted to die, needed to just stop everything and just—just STOP, finally, just stop. He was a hardened criminal with no need for heroes, what the hell kind of use did he see in you? You still the tiniest bit. You just need a use, a tangible use, is that what you’ve been missing? A clear direction set before you by an overwhelmingly liberating, intelligent, capable force… Could he see it through all the absolute shit you covered yourself in?

A tentative spark lights the furthest parts of you as you finally meet his confident and knowing gaze. Fuck if you don’t feel seen for the first time in your life, finally seen and accepted for the absolute mess you see yourself as. The conflicting, philosophical doubts you’ve had about Heroism, and your own heroics in the existential race you call a life, find a peaceful place in Shigaraki Tomura’s vision.

It's an alien calm, a powerful sedative on your mind, leading you to melt into his look—telling him all he needed to know and more. The grin he sports widens and his eyes shift to give a silent command to Dabi, still (surprisingly) observing quietly, before changing your life indefinitely, “Follow me, little hero. You'll never be lost again.”

A deep, swirling purple warp gate you’d only seen in footage appears at the entrance to the alleyway.

The loose grip on your neck finally leaves completely, giving you ample room to escape up and out across the rooftops. You’re frozen in your battling thoughts at the suddenly very real decision in front of you.

You knew you weren’t good enough to be a Hero. You’d been struggling with the core beliefs on what the word even meant, if the world you’d been taught was even so black and white. Did you even want to die or did you just need someone to come and give you a purpose, some great refocusing direction? Someone to swoop in, recognize and acknowledge your pain before wiping it away and giving you something definite to live for? You knew you couldn’t make it as a Hero. You were nothing in that world. But maybe you could make that nothing existence, doomed to the weaker, better…?

Eyes nearly blinded before blinking down more streams of tears, you sniffle and take a tentative step towards the man looming tall over you, an umbrella shielding you from a brightness you couldn’t stand to be seen in. You harshly wipe your falling tears to watch Dabi walk swiftly into the portal, an unlit cigarette of some sort dangling from his patterned lips. Shigaraki steps to it much slower. He stops before he reaches it, twisting subtly to look at you from over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have to say anything more for you to follow, if his assumptions are correct—

They are.

Your first steps are slow but pick up speed quickly, feet nearly throwing you into his right side, at the mouth of the portal to a place described by your thoughts as no return. His eyes widen in delight, a manic grin following as he places the fingers of his left hand onto your head in a semblance of comfort. More than he ever got. His right arm wraps confidently around your waist, absurdly consoling to your rapidly evolving morals and needs.

It allows you to let it all go, though. It tells you someone more capable, more prepared is there. That he sees you and is keeping you alive because you’re useful to him. You can’t seem to care why when the overwhelming realization that such a powerful man saw you as you were, truly were, and still found a profound use for you in a world you were dying in takes a strong hold. You’re practically weightless as he guides you into the inky blackness of his caretaker’s portal, mind clicking into place and recognizing the distinct choice you’re making with a calm acceptance of this development in your life.

You were a useless hero. Perhaps this is your chance to prove you could make a difference to someone as a villain.

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

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! :) hope you enjoyed~ happy birthday, Shigster! maann I wish he'd take me away ;w; drop of a hat, I'm gone lol. the ultimate escapism... yandere!Shigaraki! xD annyway, I hope you have a wonderful day~ <3

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

so this morning, while scrolling through my fb feed, i came across an nyt opinion/advice piece from a 27yo (ie basically me lmao) who is obviously lucky, in a sense, to finally land their “dream job using my (their) skills” etc. like obvs i can’t read it bc of the stupid “you get one free article a month if you either don’t have an account or subscription” (my one free article was used up reading an article about adult adhd like last week)….. thing that nyt does.

but anyway. back on topic lol. the crux of the article in both the headline and the quote snippet was that the advice asker was really dissatisfied with the 40 hour work week that came with her “dream job”. with how having this 40hr workweek gave her no time to do her busy chores like house cleaning or laundry or didn’t even give her time to let her have her hobbies/creative pursuits (whatever they were/are).

however, in the comments on the article (and apparently from those who read the article on the comments, the advice/opinion column writer) a good bunch of like gen Xer’s and baby boomers (im assuming) were ganging up on the asker like “suck it up princess, it’s what life is!!! i work 70+ hours a week and LOVE IT and have just resigned myself to the fact that i have NO time left over to do my “chores”! learn to O U T S O U R C E these life admin tasks to someone else!!! everyone MUST LEARN this in america!!! it makes life so much easier ☺️” and such.

of course, there were plenty of the same bs comments that you see on anything about careers or home ownership towards millennials/gen Z’ers about “learn to go WITHOUT and save save save and squander your time so that you NEVER live and HAVE FUN or TIME FOR HOBBIES! my bet is that your parents did that and they survived just fine while also raising your ungrateful spiteful ass (not including any type of health issues they might have picked up from such long hours/shitty working conditions) so why can’t you just L E A R N to do the same you precious spoilt brat!!! because the reality of Real Life™️ is that you can’t have it both ways!!! then you’ll have early retirement guaranteed, hopefully!!! and know that hobbies really are time wasters most of the time ☺️ or at least they were for me!!! and your precious so-called “creative pursuits” most definitely are time wasters. no one needs THOSE.” and so on so forth.

they also had jibes for her bc the asker wanted to start a family at some point apparently… and apparently it’s “much worse” once you have kids. like. thanks geraldine and henry. you’ve just told us how much you’ve resented having your kids/family in one fell swoop. your opinion which you’ve framed as unhelpful, condescending advice is now voided.

like. i don’t know how rhonda or paul or deandra or philip could miss the point so fucking entirely. why the fuck should anyone- nay everyone (bc that’s what they make it sound like)- learn to outsource their busy chores like laundry/house cleaning/grocery shopping or god knows what else- to someone else???? why is that apparently a standard expected to be learnt in the US???

like why the fuck are you so desperate for people not to have free time to do these things (unless of course they live in some of those shitty nyc or other big city apartment blocks that don’t come with individual private laundries in the self-contained flats or a communal laundry on like the bottom floor or w/e for example) frank????

deidre why the hell are you so bitterly hankering about “be grateful that you have it easier than most and learn that hobbies mean jackshit and just sell your soul and time to your boss!!! when will the generation stopping being “me me me!!!” and “work life balance!” and think about the company’s bottom line!! learn that “work life balance” is never important! work like a slave for 50 years and see if your valuable experience is needed then! that’s when you’ll learn that those hours where you were never being lazy, instead of just expecting life to be handed to you, will have paid off!” or whatever other ridiculously toxic capitalist bullshit they were spitting out.

obviously there were FAR MORE people actually supporting the question asker and echoing the idea that the 40hr workweek is now redundant. they were also putting down the opinion/advice piece writer’s advice to the asker….. that was apparently similar to the all the bitter people on the comments saying that the 27yo was just “asking for too much” and had to “learn to suck it up instead of being a petulant and overly selfish dick!!” etc etc etc. we all know the spiel as thoroughly as the macarena now.

because whats so fucking wrong with wanting time to yourself and wanting time to do your busy chores??? why the fuck should i be outsourcing these to other people (unless of course you’re still living at home and your parents are still like “hey what clothes do you need washed i’m doing a load rn” or you have a partner that works from home or has some type of parental leave etc)???? i want to do my own laundry. i want to do my own gardening (ok lawn mowing or tree lopping (if needed) i’d actually outsource bc i can’t lift or push lawn mowers bc they’re heavy af for me or and i obvs can’t use a chainsaw)… but i want to do my own grocery shopping. i want to do my own cooking (although i would consider the meal kit services once i had job that allowed me to afford like $50 a month for one of those meal kits sub services) i want to do my own cleaning.

why, if i lived in the US and not australia, am i just expected to learn to outsource all of these tasks even if i don’t have the money for it??? like why the actual fuck are so many of you so fucking weirdly proud of being absolutely worked into the fucking ground for your “great country” (although this is actually bleeding through to australia too and i hate it); working like literally close to 100 hours a week???

because i wasn’t aware you had to be whatever the fuck his name is from 127 hours and cut your fucking limbs off just to fucking survive a job in either corporate america or just let alone any goddamned job in america….. all so they can supposedly “learn to like working for free and devaluing your worth even more to your employer through overworking yourself and always being available!!! mental health is for those who aren’t built for the Real Adult World™️!!! this person is a prime example of the younger generations being weak and dissatisfied with life so often because of their “oh poor little me!!! care for me!!” act. NO ONE CARES FOR YOU today. stop being so over-expectant/demanding and juvenile!!! only YOU care yourself and you should NEVER expect someone else to pick you up from YOUR bootstraps!!! you’re fucking whiny and conceited babies. the lot of you!!!”

because i honestly don’t know who the fuck would enjoy working 70+ hours week with no time to themselves to do what they enjoy doing…. or enjoy having zilch time to catch up on errands and life admin duties or just general house chores; especially if you’ve moved cities or an entire fucking state/s away from your family and support network. let alone doing the same thing on 40 hours a week.

and on top of everything, let’s not even get started on the time spent commuting to and from work or even commuting for life errands/tasks etc etc- especially if you’re like me and you’re nowhere near the capital city’s centre (ie sydney australia for me) for there to be reliable enough public transport and longer commute times to certain places in those cities (that i’ve bitched about plenty before on other posts on here about work/jobs).

get your head out of your asses warren and viola et al and realise that work life balance is literally NOT ASKING FOR MUCH and is asking employers to just have basic respect for their employees time if they work fulltime. it’s literally detrimental to ones health if they have to sacrifice what feels like (or what is literally like) their entire fucking existence to their employer just for meagre pay and just to fucking survive.

because i read a heart-breaking article last night from huffpost (posted by buzzfeed on fb) about a woman in the US who literally hid her having a second baby from her employer for an entire fucking year (literally the entire pregnancy and birth of the baby and the first 6 months post pushing the baby out) during the pandemic all because she was scared she would get demoted or lose her leading of a project and lose her bs “temp” job which had really turned into full time work although the employer never said anything about it being actually full time hours or whatever…. and plus the lady herself was apparently to scared to ask to be put on the books fulltime too for some weird reason.

like honestly. fuck capitalism. fuck thinking that “work life balance is just too hard for employers to add and regulate. it’s an excuse and ploy for workers to be unprofessional, unproductive and lazy!” or whatever the fuck. everyone deserves time to themselves to pursue their interests/hobbies and busy chores/life admin. no one deserves to waste their entire life working 70+ work weeks for those employers who literally have no respect for their employees personal lives and time.

and particularly during the time that is the pandemic as we’ve seen so many companies having to learn to wholeheartedly embrace working from home and more flexible schedules for their workers. worklife balance is absolutely fucking beneficial for everyone involved.

america fix your bullshit work ethic right now lmao.

[fandom-necromancer]

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder

This was prompted by a wonderful anon! I hope you enjoy! Also big thanks to @headfulloffantasy for giving me the idea to make this about birds!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [Part2]   [Part3]

It was one of the first sunny days of spring and after being holed up in the house the entire winter, Gavin enjoyed sitting on the perch of their house. The sun had just risen, and it was still cold, but as soon as the first light would hit them, he knew he wouldn’t need his jacket anymore. He smiled as he heard footsteps and a cup of coffee entered his field of vision. He smiled as he looked up in the android’s face and scooted to the side a bit to make room for Nines to join him on the bench. ‘You are a life saver’, Gavin moaned, taking the first sip of his coffee. ‘Pretty sure indulging your caffeine addiction does the exact opposite’, Nines commented. ‘Take the damn compliment.’

They watched the sun rise over their neighbour’s houses and Gavin had to blink as it finally hit his eyes. He had never thought to leave his shitty apartment and definitely never had thought to move into some suburban neighbourhood with orderly lawns and driveways that looked the same with every house. All thanks to the massive departure of people getting to safety during the revolution. He doubted he could afford such a house otherwise, even when they were both working for it. Still he was glad. He leaned back, enjoying the view – Nines next to him more so than the other houses. He smiled as the android seemed fixed on a specific point. He knew from how his brows furrowed, he would soon share his discovery with him.

‘Look, there is a nest over there. A bird’s nest.’ Gavin followed his finger and indeed saw a small nest sitting on a second storey windowsill of the house. ‘Yeah, isn’t that one abandoned? Water damage I think the saleslady told us.’ Nines nodded, and Gavin shrugged. ‘Well, at least it’s undisturbed then.’ ‘As long as they don’t decide to demolish it’, the android mumbled. ‘Yeah, but who knows. The company probably still struggling with the fact they need to pay their working androids now. Could take months. When they start, the birds will be long gone.’ ‘I hope so’, Nines said and stood up. ‘I’ll go check in with Connor. He wanted to talk with me about a case, best to get it out of the way so we can enjoy our free day.’ ‘Do that, I’ll sit here and do nothing as I do best.’ Nines smiled at him and pressed a kiss on his forehead. ‘We both know that’s a lie.’

-

It was evening about two weeks later and the sky looked like it would start to rain any moment as Nines drove home from a crime-scene he had been called to. He was ready to go straight to bed and enter stasis with his human next to him. Instead he frowned as he found the street partly obstructed by construction fences and machinery. He drove past, watching humans and androids walk about, holding tablets and preparing everything to demolish the building. He was surprised it had happened so quickly, but he guessed some bureaucracy could solve itself quite fast if humans were embarrassed about their past actions. He was about to drive past and park the car as usually when his HUD highlighted something in the second storey. The nest was still there, the brooding bird nowhere to be seen. Likely abandoning the eggs due to the sudden activity and noise. It was something that happened every day, he shouldn’t care about something like that. But… But he did care. He had a soft spot for animals, he wasn’t gonna lie about it. All living things held an absurd fascination for him, a being of metal and plastic. So, he parked the car on the pathway and stepped out, approaching the construction workers.

‘Hello. Are you aware there is a bird nest on the windowsill?’, he asked someone standing in front of a foldable table that looked important. The man turned around and looked him up and down. ‘And?’ ‘Are you going to demolish a building with it still in place?’ ‘It’s just pigeons. Little pests are everywhere.’ Nines stared at him highly doubting he had understood him correctly. He thought about starting to argue with him, but decided it would be wasted time anyways, so he just bolted for the house. A perfectly preconstructed jump against the pillars supporting the roof over the porch followed by another push in the right direction brought him up to the second story windowsill, where he held onto the rim and a drainage pipe before carefully lifting up the nest with three intact eggs. Only then he allowed himself to exit preconstruction mode and slid down the pipe to the ground.

Disregarding the construction workers, he held the nest in his hands like the most fragile treasure and walked back to their home. He rung the bell with his elbow and hoped Gavin wouldn’t be too angry. ‘Hey Nines! Long day? How- what the phck?’ ‘I couldn’t let them be destroyed’, Nines stated and pushed past him before Gavin could say anything. ‘Yeah, okay, but…’ The man closed the door and followed Nines to the kitchen table where he carefully put down the nest. ‘But what are you going to do with them now? I know jack shit about birds. I always had cats, birds were a no go most of the time. What kind of bird is it even?’ ‘Pigeon’, Nines answered, holding his hands over the nest and heating them up. Who knows how long the mother had been gone already. ‘Seriously? You rescued some pigeon eggs?’ ‘Yes. They deserve to live like any other being.’ Nines looked up at Gavin, challenging him to say anything different. ‘I- well… Aren’t they carriers for diseases?’ ‘A myth. Very little diseases the could carry are affecting humans.’ ‘Okay, but they shit everywhere.’ ‘All birds do.’ ‘Phck, Nines, I’m not raising wild animals in our house!’ ‘City pigeons aren’t wild animals. They are leftover pets you didn’t want anymore. And don’t worry, you won’t be raising them. I am!’ With that Nines stood up, the nest still in his hands and left to a secluded corner in their living room where he set up an improvised heating via an old hot-water bottle. He didn’t care that Gavin likely was still staring at him, thinking of new arguments, but he was done. He had made his decision when driving by and he would stand up for it.

That night he didn’t enter stasis, as planned, but sat with the eggs, watching over them.

-

He still sat there watching over them the next day, when Gavin came down from their bedroom. He made himself coffee and looked at Nines completely invested. He sighed. He still couldn’t understand why it was so important for the android, but it was. He felt a bit bad about how he had reacted. He still didn’t think this was a good idea, but who knew if the eggs were even fertilized. If anything he didn’t want their argument from the day before to linger. So when he drove off to work, leaving the android behind, he had a plan how to make it up to him.

-

‘Nines, I’m home!’ He pulled the key out of the lock and struggled to close the door with the huge box in his arms. He didn’t get an answer, but found Nines in his corner like before, exchanging the hot-water bottle. He sighed shaking his head and toed off his shoes before walking towards him. ‘Hey, tin-can, you set up all this stuff and I’ll get the coffee table.’ He basically dropped the box in his lap and walked off. The android frowned and opened the box. ‘Gavin, what is this?’ ‘Everything the clerk from the pet-store said you needed to hatch birds. Incubator, lamp, food and litter.’ ‘Why did you get all this?’ ‘Listen, I’m still not convinced of this. I don’t want some featherbrains flapping around the house shitting everywhere. And you won’t see me anywhere near the eggs. But it’s important to you, so I got you the stuff you need.’ Nines looked down on the box, then back up to Gavin, who was already pulling the table over. ‘Thank you.’ ‘Don’t stress it.’

A few hours later the incubator sat neatly on the coffee table in the corner, eggs placed inside and heated to the perfect temperature. Nines and Gavin sat in front of it and looked through the glass. ‘Do you know if they are even fertilized?’ ‘Two are’, Nines answered. ‘And quite far in development, too. They could still die; I don’t know how long they’ve been sitting in the cold.’ ‘I really don’t know a thing about pigeons’, Gavin sighed. ‘They are very intelligent’, Nines said softly. ‘They can pass the mirror test and distinguish different humans. They are outstanding at navigation and mate for life. Also, both parents equally care for their young.’ Gavin huffed. ‘Well, they will have to do with a single dad I guess.’ ‘Why don’t you like them?’ ‘I don’t know. I just never thought about it, I guess. Likely would phck it up.’ Nines smirked and laid an arm around Gavin, pulling him close. ‘I think you already did a great job.’

-

‘Gavin! Gavin, I need your help.’ Gavin blinked his eyes open and cursed. He was sleeping on the couch for quite a while now since Nines was sitting next to the incubator night and day. ‘What is it?’, he asked sleepily. ‘Fowler just called, I have to go.’ ‘I thought you were on vacation?’ ‘New lead to a cold case, I have to go. But if they are quick, the eggs could hatch today already! I don’t think so, but it is possible, and I can’t watch over them! I-‘ ‘Yeah, yeah!’ Gavin sat up, holding his head. ‘Go, I’ll watch over the stupid eggs.’ ‘Thank you, I’ll hurry!’ Gavin looked after the android that basically ran out of the house, then turned towards the incubator, throwing back his blanket to drape it over his shoulders instead. ‘Sorry, need coffee first.’

He made himself a cup and walked back to the incubator. The eggs still laid there completely motionless. ‘Well, nothing’s changed so far. Maybe you’re not even alive. At least that would solve my problems, hmm?’ Although the next thought was Nines’ reaction to that. All that work for nothing. He wanted to see his husband happy, that was a large part of his motivation in life now. Well, he couldn’t do much else than sitting there watching them and drinking his coffee. ‘Hope you like metal’, he mumbled, switching on his radio to let the time pass quicker. An hour later he was lost in his phone playing stupid games and reading the news. His stomach demanded for instant noodles after another hour and he caved in.

As he came back, he almost didn’t recognise the change. Only as an egg moved, he looked up and saw the cracks. ‘Oh, you gotta be kidding me! Your damn father isn’t home yet!’ He put the bowl down untouched and scooted closer. The cracks centred around a patch of shell that was soon lifted up. A beak became visible as the cracks widened and spread, slowly circling around its breadth. Gavin stared in fascination at the pink flashing between the shells, moving and breathing. There was something alive in there.

Only when the shell was being pushed open, he thought to grab his phone and call Nines. ‘Yes?’, came the immediate answer. ‘What’s happening? Are they-‘ ‘Yes’, Gavin answered. ‘Yes, they are hatching. One is getting out of the egg. The other one is moving.’ ‘I’ll come home immediately!’ Gavin smiled without noticing. ‘Congrats, Nines. Guess you are a dad now.’ ‘As are you’, the android answered before hastily ending the call.

-

Nines was sure to break some speed regulations, but he didn’t care. Of course, he had to miss the eggs hatching. He had had a feeling this would happen from the very beginning. At least Gavin was there. But he hadn’t been on board raising these baby pigeons from the beginning. What if… No, he would care for them surely. Still Nines didn’t put any effort in parking neatly, jumping out as soon as the engine was killed, and the break pulled. He unlocked the door and ran in, searching in panic for a while as the chair in front of the incubator was deserted.

He found Gavin sitting on the couch then, holding a blanket with the hot-water bottle underneath in his lap and smiling as he kept his hands on two tiny baby pigeons. ‘Look at our two bastard children’, Gavin cooed lovingly and Nines carefully sat down next to him. ‘They are beautiful’, Nines nodded. ‘No they are not’, Gavin chuckled, gently petting one of them with a finger, the grey-yellowish hairs not even close to covering the tiny fleshy body with overly big eyes.

‘But I love them.’

[>next part]

[justatiredghost]

Living for the Moment Ch19

A series of glimpses at Klaus’ life if he’d met Dave in his mid 20s. His life isn’t magically transformed, love can’t fix either of them when they’re both homeless and in a bad place. They’re not even really ready for a relationship yet. But maybe a supportive friendship can set them on a better path, the two of them inspiring each other to take care of themselves. It’s going to be a long and bumpy ride, and the question is, when will they actually admit to themselves that they have feelings for each other? Read More AO3

-

The problem with coming to a sudden stop after burning himself up the way Klaus had been lately was the loss of adrenaline. That had really been the only thing keeping him going. Well, that and the drugs. Thankfully he still had some of those in his system so the ghosts were leaving him alone, because the inevitable crash wiped him out completely. He didn’t have the strength to keep his eyes open anymore let alone enough to hunt down another contact to resupply.

There were a lot of things Dave had said that he wanted to comment on, mostly to ask what was wrong with him, but he just couldn’t right now. None of this felt real. He’d never had someone so determined to stay in his life, and all he could do was wonder how long until he came to his senses. But that was a problem for future him. As most things were. Right now, Klaus just wanted to sleep.

Not that he got much before they were both jolted awake by a car backfiring. The early commuters were likely out, so they had to leave, but Klaus felt so much worse than he had before. The exhaustion, the aches and pains, the ugly bruise welling up on the side of his face where he’d been punched, and to top it all off, he was pretty sure he had a fever.

“Hey, you okay?” Dave asked when he noticed, and of course he had to be all sweet, rubbing his back and everything.

“Oh yeah, sure, all good here,” Klaus said, trying to suppress a violent shiver at the early morning wind icy cold now that Dave wasn’t pressed up against his side.

“Shit, I didn’t give you my cold, did I?”

“What can I say? Petty theft is one of my charms,” Klaus joked, because he didn’t like how worried he looked.

“I wish I could repay the favor and find a place for you to warm up and sleep it off, but— hang on, I have an idea. Come with me?”

Dave stood and offered his hand, and Klaus considered it. He thought about trying to ditch him again, or just refusing to move. But he was too tired to be stubborn and petty, so he decided it would be easier just to go along and he let himself get pulled to his feet.

Usually, Klaus would be more nosey about this, but when Dave left him outside the shitty motel, he just stood there and waited while he went inside to talk with someone. He surprised himself, honestly. He must be really bad off. At least Dave didn’t keep him waiting long.

“Wow, you really do look like shit,” Dave said when he returned, actually able to get a good look at him now that the early morning sun was starting to make its appearance.

“Still hot though, right?” Klaus said.

“Mmm, feverish and attractive,” Dave joked. “You might be overdoing it a little, might want to tone it down a bit.”

“Have you met me?” Klaus replied.

“Well,” Dave continued, unlocking one of the motel room doors on the first floor. “The good news is, a buddy here owes me a favor. She said we can have this room, but gotta be out of here by tomorrow evening.”

“She is a saint,” Klaus said, stumbling inside after him. “I am going to take a 6 hour long bath, so if you need to pee, you better do it now.”

“No, go ahead,” Dave laughed. “I’m actually going to step out for a bit. I have some other stuff I need to take care of. But I look forward to seeing what you look like all pruny.”

Klaus waved him off with an annoyed sound. He turned on the water as hot as it would go and was ready to soak up all that warmth and wash away the grime. By the time he finally climbed out of the bath, he didn’t feel so frozen. Sure, he still felt like shit, but it was better than nothing.

-

For once, Klaus slept like a rock, so he wasn’t all that surprised when he came to, desperate for a glass of water, to discover Dave was asleep in the other bed by the door. On the way back from the bathroom with a cup, he had the sudden impulse to crawl into Dave’s bed and join him, but tried to block that out and just go back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was to hear the shower running. Dave was no longer in the other bed. A midnight shower wasn’t all that strange, though, so he let himself fall back to sleep. But when he woke up again a little over an hour later and the shower was still going, Dave still missing, he started to get a little worried.

Well, more curious than worried. Yes, this definitely wasn’t worry. These types of places weren’t really known for having unlimited hot water and he actually wondered if Dave had been the one to ditch him this time. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stumbled out of bed, pausing at the bathroom door to knock.

“Dave? You alive in there?” he called, but didn’t get a response. “I’m coming in. I swear I’m not doing this just to check you out naked.”

As he slowly opened the door, he noticed that there wasn’t as much steam as he thought there would be. The mirror wasn’t even fogged up. When he turned to the tub, the curtain was pulled back just enough that he could see Dave sitting there, letting the water fall over him, still wearing boxers and a t-shirt. His arms were raised as if to protect his head, fingers digging into his hair.

“Dave,” Klaus called again, concerned now.

Dave flinched as soon as he spotted him, but at least he relaxed when he realized it was just Klaus. Then, he scrambled to turn the water off before sitting back, out of breath and just trying to regain his bearings.

“Hi,” Dave said guiltily. Then, he looked down at himself and sighed heavily, picking at the way his shirt stuck to him uncomfortably. “Aw, man. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Would it help if I also got in with my clothes on?” Klaus offered.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dave sighed, not completely able to stop himself from smiling despite everything.

“Your loss,” Klaus said with a shrug. “I’m not exactly one to judge, I was in here for a criminally long time earlier, but typically I don’t think showers are supposed to last very long. I’m surprised you haven’t run out of hot water.”

“Ah,” Dave said, looking away. “I think I may have, actually.”

“May have what?”

“Run out of hot water,” Dave said, and as if to prove his point, a particularly violent shiver ran through him.

“What the hell?” Klaus said. “You should probably get out of there. Only one of us is allowed to be sick at a time, and I already called dibs.”

He passed Dave a towel as he clambered out of the tub. Then, he left him so he could have a little privacy to change while Klaus wandered around the room in search of any extra blankets stashed away. Dave was already back in his bed when he returned, so he unceremoniously dropped his spoils on top of him before selecting one to unravel sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I swear I don’t take all my showers clothed,” Dave said, forcing a chuckle as he followed suit, no doubt trying to lighten the mood.

“Hey, whatever does it for you,” Klaus shrugged, and Dave smacked him playfully with one of the folded blankets.

“I really am sorry about all this,” Dave groaned after they finished with their work, burrowing deeper into the pile of blankets, still shivering.

“What, hogging all the blankets? I guess I can forgive you.”

“Well, yeah, I guess there’s that now, too,” Dave chuckled. “But I more meant, just, all of this-- my little breakdown. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to, but I still get flashbacks and nightmares sometimes. Showers help, they can kinda ground me I guess, this one was just particularly bad, I guess.”

“Oh,” Klaus said dumbly, not really sure what to do with all that openness. Except run, but he’d already tried that and failed.

This all hit a little too close to home; the nightmares and the flashbacks, the whispered confessions in a moment of vulnerability. In Klaus’ experience, it never went well. He knew Dave was just like this, so much more open than Klaus could ever imagine being, but it still sent a chill through him.

As irrational as it was, he didn’t want Dave to learn the same way he had. At least Klaus didn’t have any plans to betray him, so he might as well encourage him to let it all out now.

“Do you, like, what to talk about it or something?” he said uncertainly. “I heard it’s supposed to help. I mean, I know that’s rich, coming from me of all people.”

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid,” Dave said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“Okay, well, now you have to tell me,” Klaus said, climbing onto the bed so he was laying on his stomach, leaning on his elbows, head in his hands.

“I, uh, went to talk to someone today,” Dave said slowly. “About getting support. For vets.”

“That’s good, right?” Klaus said, trying to be encouraging.

“I guess,” he said, eyes sliding to the side, avoiding Klaus’ gaze. “It’s just frustrating, it feels like admitting defeat. But I can’t even hold down a job, something’s gotta change.”

“That’s the spirit?” Klaus said uncertainly. It wasn’t like self-improvement was his specialty. But he could definitely understand the guilt that went with asking for help. Which is why he never did.

“Unfortunately, it’s bringing up a few too many memories. And, when I’m stressed, I have nightmares, so that doesn’t help,” Dave added lamely, trying to laugh a little.

“There, there,” Klaus said, sitting up so he could reach out and pat his shoulder. Taken by surprise, Dave burst out laughing and Klaus couldn’t help but grin, pleased he could still make him laugh, even when he was upset. “If it helps, wearing clothes in the shower is nowhere near the top 10 weirdest things I’ve found people doing in the bathroom,” Klaus said unhelpfully.

“Still,” Dave said, before changing the subject. “But enough about me, how are you feeling? Sorry again for giving you my cold.”

“I might learn to forgive you one day,” Klaus said dramatically, hand on his forehead.

“Hey,” Dave said. “I was thinking, and I realized that I just kinda made you come with me here, sorry about that, too.”

“Yes,” Klaus said, again playing it up. “How dare you force me to sleep in a proper bed for a change?”

“You know what I mean,” Dave said with a weak smile. But then his voice turned serious. “I know I was probably a bit too much before, probably creepy too, tracking you down like that. I just want you to know that, if you really don’t want to be here, I’d understand.”

“What’s the matter, starting to have second thoughts?” Klaus asked. “I am a handful. Being friends with me is gonna be a nightmare”

“Seriously,” Dave persisted. “How about we meet up in a few days and talk it out? I’ll have at least a few more answers once the VA get back to me. I know everything feels impossible right now, but being your friend is worth it, to me. But if all of this has put you off, then feel free to make a break for it. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Sure,” Klaus said distractedly.

Dave nodded and turned away, pulling the blankets up nearly over his head.

Klaus had never been told he was worth it before. He’s never been worth anything and he didn’t know how to feel about all of this. He thought he could feel something melting in his core, a warmth reaching him that he never expected to feel. But there was guilt, too. So much guilt.

How was this even happening? Dave was a pretty smart guy, but he just seemed to be ignoring all the warning signs. Maybe Klaus had tricked him into this somehow. He was very good at manipulating people. But, for some reason, Dave kept coming back, there was no denying that. He wanted to trust him, to believe in Dave even if he couldn’t believe in himself, but he knew how dangerous that was.

Klaus felt cold, again, when he went back to his own bed, moving automatically. Mostly he just felt numb, completely drained. And he was more lost than ever. Maybe he was just too sober, maybe drugs would wipe it all away and remind him who he was. Or, maybe it wouldn’t, and he’d wake up one day and hate himself, wondering what would have been.

Hating himself wasn’t anything new, but when he glanced over his shoulder to see Dave’s curly hair sticking out between blanket and pillow, he so desperately wanted to give hope a try.

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 5

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter was a tough one for me to write. I got stuck a few times with the order of things (for this chapter and the following ones). Once I decided on that, the angst in this one was a little emotional for me to write, then edit. So, proceed with caution. That’s the official angst warning!

On a more positive note, this is a definitive turning point toward resolution, so it WILL get better! Thanks again for all of you who have offered your feedback and followed the story. Knowing y’all are enjoying this little au with me makes it all the more fun to write 😊

Trigger warning for short depiction of grief.

——————————————————————————

Birthday breakfast was really more of a birthday lunch the day after celebrating at Rita’s. Elain was sitting at the small island of Nesta’s kitchen, nursing a Gatorade and holding her head in her hands. Feyre was next to her scrolling through her phone. She was doing intel on their group’s collective social media updates, and so far, there were no embarrassing posts to deal with.

Nesta was mixing pancake batter, periodically folding in chocolate chips. Chocolate chip pancakes were reserved for Archeron birthdays or holidays, and they looked forward to sharing them when the occasions presented themselves. She poured some of the batter into her skillet, absently watching for bubbles as her indicator they were ready to flip. After making the initial flip, she walked to her refrigerator and produced a bottle of champagne with orange juice.

“Who wants to open the champagne for birthday mimosas?” She set both bottles on the island, with glasses, before turning her attention back to the pancakes. Elain’s only response was a long groan. Feyre giggled, pulled the champagne toward her, and started untwisting the cage over the cork.

“What’s the expression, El? Hair of the dog? It may make you feel better.” She stood away from the island to pop the cork. The last things they needed were physical injuries.

“I guess it can’t make me feel any worse, right?” She picked her head up from her hands. “I’m going to go grab my phone,” she said, with a cringe. She padded away to Nesta’s room, returning seconds later. She was scrolling through her phone as she walked and stopped short once she met the threshold of the kitchen, a horrified expression on her face.

”Why the fuck would I have deleted all of my texts last night?!” Her voice was more shrill than normal, and her sisters’ eyes grew at her use of “fuck” during pancake breakfast.

It was Feyre who dared answer her. “Umm... I have no idea. Maybe it was an accident?”

”That’s a pretty impressive accident.” Nesta realized her comment wasn’t helping as her sisters glared in her direction.

Elain continued. “I’ll tell you why. Because drunk me tried to hide something from sober me.” She paused for a second, blushing. “My evidence, in case you were wondering, is a text from Azriel that says: ‘*laugh emoji* Not cool. You had me worried there for a minute, Ellie. Goodnight. Hope you enjoyed your birthday.’” She glanced up at them in horror.

Nesta gave her a small smile. “Ellie, I’m sure it’s nothing. Even drunk you couldn’t have said anything too terrible. Maybe just talk to Az? It would be better than wondering.”

Elain sat down, her anxiety palpable in the small kitchen. She was quiet save for the nod she’d given her sister in acknowledgment of her advice. Nesta assumed maybe she could use a little more encouragement since she didn’t look wholly convinced.

“I really think it’ll be okay. Az is reasonable and has probably said his own fair share of drunken things he would care to take back.” She offered a short chuckle before sipping her mimosa. “You could call him, maybe, or—“

”Nes, are you really preaching to me about communication right now?”

Nesta blinked, taken aback by the irritation in Elain’s voice. “I wasn’t trying to preach, El. I just meant you didn’t have to worry and could trust Az to give you a chance to—“

”The same way you gave Cassian a chance to fix whatever the hell you’re holding against him? Why should Az be any more gracious than you’ve been?” Elain snapped. Her shoulders rounded a little at her own words, and Feyre’s eyes grew to the size of two steel blue saucers.

“Cauldron, Elain,” she said, looking from one sister to the other. Her back was straight, anticipating Nesta’s best weapons: her words.

Nesta took several seconds to reflect on their current situation. It was such an unexpected shift, where Elain was the one throwing insults, and Feyre, of all people, was defensive of Nesta. She wasn’t used to this type of interaction with Elain, and her words stung more than she was willing to admit. She finished her mimosa in one swift gulp and placed her dishes in the sink.

“Lucky for you, Azriel is nowhere near as disappointing, or shitty, as I am. I’m going to shower while you two finish breakfast. I’ll bring you home when you finish.” Her tone was neutral, dry even. By all measures, it was on the milder side for Nesta. She was halfway to the bathroom when she heard Elain’s wavering voice.

“Nes, wait. I’m sorry I didn’t mean—“

“Don’t ever apologize for saying what you mean, Elain,” she said, coldly, before walking the rest of her way. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, wanting to leave the gaping wound that Elain had ripped open far behind her.

——————————————————————————

The following week went by fairly quickly. Elain and Nesta had made up within the day, Elain insisting that she had spoken from her own nerves rather than how she truly felt. She asked if Nesta wanted to talk about what happened with Cassian, but she declined, saying it wasn’t a big deal. She tasted the lie the second it left her mouth, but she shoved that down with everything else.

Her attention to the day of the week was higher than usual in anticipation of Wednesday. She was oddly preoccupied with a day that truly meant nothing to her, but it had haunted her since she overheard Cassian’s conversation with Alis. When the day finally arrived, she found herself ruminating over their conversation, letting her imagination run wild with the possibilities of how they were spending their time.

She told herself that she didn’t care beyond the fact that he would usually tell her all about these sorts of things. Gods, it bothered her to no end that she wasn’t his person anymore.

That Thursday, she found herself getting ready for dinner with Tomas. He had called her that Monday to see if she’d like to go out, and she didn’t have a reason not to. She may have even wanted to go. The downside, when the day arrived, was that it happened to be a particularly brutal work day. She was at home touching up and mentally preparing herself for a couple of hours of conversation. She would usually call Cassian for pep talks on days like this, but their non-friendship was a dealbreaker in that department. Not to mention, he likely wouldn’t have cared to give her a pep talk for this particular night. Gods, it bothered her to no end that he wasn’t her person anymore, either.

Dinner had been fine enough. Tomas looked handsome and seemed completely engaged with her the entire night. He was interested in her work, how her life had been since he’d last seen her, and her friends. He made brief mention of her mother and how he had been really sad to hear that she passed a few years ago. His condolences were sincere, but Nesta found herself oddly defensive at his mention of her. He hadn’t known her well, since their relationship hadn’t lasted long, and she felt like he couldn’t possibly imagine the void she left in their lives.

She resisted any response beyond a “thank you”, knowing that her reaction was likely due to her death anniversary coming up within the week. The rest of the night had gone well. The food was good, the conversation was fine, Tomas was fine. They had a fine time together. Everything was just fine.

Which is why, she assumed, that Tomas had tried to kiss her at the end of the night. He had driven her home, walked her to the door, and hugged her goodbye. As he pulled away, his cheek lingered next to hers, face turning toward her in slow motion. She cleared her throat abruptly and reached into her bag for her key.

“Well, thanks for tonight! I had a nice time.” She had the key in the lock, and she was already mentally selecting her sweatpants for the evening.

“Wait.” Thomas grabbed her elbow, turning her around. “Why are you being so weird? I thought we had a good time?”

”We did. I just said I had a nice time.”

”You seem to be rushing out pretty fast for a person having fun.” He paused for a few seconds to allow her to insist that she was having fun, or to invite him inside, she thought. She did neither.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Is it Cassian?”

She knew she was balking at him, but she didn’t have it in her to control it.

“Are you kidding me? Just because I’m ending the night without kissing you or asking you to come inside and fuck me, there has to be a man responsible? Could it be because this night has taken us as far as it was ever going to?” She rolled her eyes, turned the key, and walked inside. “Goodnight, Tomas,” she said, as she shut the door in his face.

She kicked her shoes off in her entryway and tossed her purse onto the small table next to her door. She removed her dress over her head as she walked purposefully to her bedroom and ripped her sweatpants out of the too-full drawer. She pulled on an extra large t-shirt and went to the kitchen to pour herself some red wine. She settled onto her couch, put on some mindless television, and tried to relax.

She reflected over the night’s events. She was honest when she told Tomas that they had a fine time. She had enjoyed herself tonight, and she started to feel a twinge of guilt for snapping at him in her doorway. He hadn’t done anything wrong before asking that question, and if she was honest with herself, she knew why it bothered her so much. It’s not that he wasn’t handsome, that he was unkind, or that he was disrespectful. It wasn’t even that he had misjudged and asked the wrong question. The truth hammered through her brain like an ambush, and she was utterly incapable of stopping it.

He’s not Cassian.

——————————————————————————

Nesta watched several episodes of a home renovation show as she worked through her bottle of wine. She decided that it was the perfect type of show to watch on nights like tonight, where she was knee-deep in her thoughts. Her earlier revelation had sunken its claws into her brain, and she was having trouble thinking of anything else. She wasn’t sure at what point she had stopped fighting it— either glass 2 or glass 3. She finally allowed herself to take a critical look at all these pent up emotions, and noteworthy memories of Cassian started to play through her mind like a montage.

She is sitting in the passenger seat of an older, black pick-up truck. Cassian is driving, and they have the windows down to feel the cool fall breeze. They’re going for a leisurely drive because he got his license just yesterday, and he loves the freedom it’s given him. He doesn’t have to be a slave to his home life or his abusive father anymore. He can just drive. She makes a joke, and he’s laughing now. His mid-length waves are dancing around his face, and he turns to look at her for mere seconds before looking back at the road.

She sipped her wine thoughtfully, noting the memory as the first time he ever took her breath with how beautiful his joy could be. She remembered how her chest had burst with pride at being able to make him laugh and smile like that, despite his pain. She noted now what she was too scared to admit then: there was little she wouldn’t do to protect his happiness.

It’s junior prom, and she’s posted against the wall with a bottle of water. Her date is a total jerk, and she’s hoping that maybe he’ll just leave. His departure would be better than pretending to enjoy herself anymore. She sees Cassian approaching her from her left. He looks so much more mature in his tux, half of his waves tied back in a knot at the back of his head.

“Hey, Archie. Where’s your date?”

She chuckles softly. “I don’t know. But I think I like it that way. He’s kind of the worst.”

Cassian frowns. “Well, he’s an idiot, then. Dance with me?” He extends his hand to her, palm up, and offers her a half-smile. He looks almost nervous, and her heart swells with affection for him.

“Always. You’re my favorite person here.”

She wiped the tears from her face, not sure of when she started crying. The feeling now so vivid; her favorite person. The truth of that statement refused to be downplayed. She shook her head, realizing it to be as accurate as ever.

It’s her sophomore year of college, and her friends are at a local bar celebrating the end of finals. She hasn’t been able to see them nearly as often this semester, and she’s enjoying their time together. At a certain point, a guy she doesn’t know gets awfully too comfortable with her, and he’s touching her all over. She tries to walk away, and he grips her arm tightly as she fights against him. He’s so much stronger than she is, but her brain can only focus on getting away from him. Just before the panic sets in, she sees two familiar figures approaching from the side. Faster than she can note what is really happening, Azriel is separating the guy’s hand from Nesta’s arm and is shoving him too easily away from her. She’s immediately wrapped in a tight hug, her face tucked tightly into Cassian’s chest. She inhales his scent as she steadies her breath, and she clutches the back of his shirt like a lifeline. She isn’t truly crying, but tears are starting to pool in her eyes from the sheer relief of being safe with him. He pulls back only as much as he needs to cup her face with his hands. His brow is deeply furrowed as he scans her face in that knowing way of his, and his lips form a tight line. He is painfully concerned. He is furious. He is fighting all of those things to remain even for her.

“Are you okay? Nes, please. Talk to me. Tell me you’re okay.”

”I’m okay.” Her response is quiet, robotic.

“He’s gone. Azriel took care of it.”

She was yearning for a sense of normalcy, the intensity of his care becoming too much. She resorts to humor as she usually does.

“I’m surprised. It’s usually you who runs straight to the front lines. Forever the hero.” She cracks a small smile, hoping it’ll comfort him.

He’s still holding her face in his large hands. He drops his gaze briefly as he shakes his head, and when he looks back at her face, he’s wearing an ironic sort of smile.

“All I could see was you.”

The memory knocked the breath out of her, having been so long since she had thought about it. She understood his meaning then, but it hit her with a renewed vigor now. She superseded his basic instincts to protect, eliminate the threat. When it came to her, he trusted no one else and had to personally ensure she was okay. He would throw himself between her and anyone or anything that threatened her, and he would do it happily. Her heart clenched as she thought about how no one else could have made her feel comfortable or calmed her under those circumstances. Another tear rolled down her cheek at how careless she had been with his heart and how much she had taken him for granted. At how much she had always lied to herself. Because she was feeling particularly masochistic, she entertained one last memory, her tears pouring.

Her mother is terminally ill, and the doctors believe she will leave them any day now. It’s 3 AM, and her phone rings. Her father tells her she’s gone, and she holds herself together until she hangs up the phone. She is panicking; can’t catch her breath. Her father is calling Elain and Feyre, and they are supposed to meet at his house when they can get themselves ready. She doesn’t know how she will face this. She can’t do it. She can’t do it. She Can’t. Do. It.

Her fingers work automatically, pressing Cassian’s contact and putting him on speaker phone. Holding it to her face seems too taxing, and her tears will smear all over the screen. He answers in two rings, his voice gravelly with sleep.

”Nes?”

Her only answer is a choked sob, followed by several attempts at catching her breath.

“Nesta. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me.”

She complies, finally mastering herself enough to say, “Momma” through her sobs.

“Nesta. Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’m in the truck now. Please stay with me.”

Everything else is a blur except for hearing him come through her door. He opens her bedroom door swiftly, obviously in a hurry to get to her. He leaves the bedroom light off, allowing the hallway lighting to be his guide to her. His weight is shifting the mattress next to her, and he’s leaning against the headboard. He easily pulls her into his lap, and she’s tucking her face into his neck as she cries. She curls her legs into herself, and he holds her for what feels like seconds and years. She feels something wet soaking into the shoulder of her t-shirt and realizes his tears are falling as well.

He drives her to her father’s once she’s ready, holding her hand the entire way. He never leaves her side the days following, through arrangements, the ceremony, and family visitations. He makes sure she eats on somewhat of a schedule because time is all an illusion to her. He sleeps on her couch every night for the couple of weeks following, knowing bedtime is the hardest time for her, and she won’t want to be alone. She is so touched by his dedication, and she isn’t sure she could do this life without him.

She cried for a long time, only recovering when she felt like she had nothing left to give. She was hardly surprised at the landslide of emotions tackling her considering she had been repressing them for the entirety of their friendship. It was now apparent to her what should have always been apparent: she was in love with Cassian.

She was in love with him, but she had been myopic for so long that she may have finally exhausted his love for her.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Well, here it is. We’re nearing the end of this one, and I’m excited to get the rest up for y’all. As always, your feedback/ comments are welcome! If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to message, comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you to the tag list.

Tags are below!

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm //

[jawritter]

Broken Me...

Ch. 3

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatly have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Online bulling, language, insecurities, mean girls. I think that’s about it..

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1779

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Jensen's POV:

"I can't believe I lost it like that man! What the hell!!" Jensen yelled, throwing his hat across the room, watching as it hit the wall with a limp thump before falling to the floor.

He’d never been so pissed off at himself in his life, the way he ran off stage like that, Y/n probably thinks she did something wrong. 

He knew she saw him upset…

He knew she saw him try to hide the fact that I was up there crying like a little bitch... 

Maybe that many shots before he got on stage wasn't such a great idea after all... 

He was just trying to get numb enough to get through this damn concert without feeling anything. That turned out well didn’t it...

"Dude stop!! You're doing a hell of a lot better than I would be doing. I would have left the convention by now, and would be a blubbering mess somewhere. As far as y/n goes. I think she's fine. I saw her taking selfies with some other fans after the concert was over. Now Richard on the other hand, he saw, he's asking questions. I know you're not ready to talk about all this to everyone, but if you're going to stay at the convention. You're going to have to tell the rest of the cast and crew what the hell is going on with you." 

Jensen knew Jared was right, but he couldn’t help the stone face that he gave him as he watched the overly tall man take a swig of his beer. 

Even though Jared has the mental maturity of a ten year old, when stuff is going down he usually is right. 

As far as Jensen was concerned he was nowhere near ready to talk about what happened between Danneel and himself, everything was still so fresh, so raw, hell it had just happened today! 

He knew he couldn’t get into telling people without breaking down, and that was NOT something he was going to do in front of everyone. 

It just isn't going to happen... 

"I know you're right, but I’m not ready to talk about this with everyone, man it all this just happened less than 12 hours ago! I haven't even had time to process it yet. I'll try, and talk to everyone in the morning if people are asking too many questions. I just can't do it tonight. I'm still a little drunk, I'm exhausted. Probably too damn exhausted to sleep, which means I’ll probably drink myself to sleep…. Don’t look at me like that Jared, I just ….need tonight okay......Put Richard and everyone else off till in the morning if they ask you any questions."

Jared fought the urge to shake his head and roll his eyes, but this was Jensen’s battle, not his, and he had to deal with all of this how he saw best. No matter how much Jared didn’t agree with it..

"Okay I can do that. I told Richard tonight that you would probably tell everyone in the morning what was going on anyway, It was the only way he would let it go. They're worried about you man."

Jensen pushed his hands through his already completely messed up hair, and stood there with his eyes closed, trying his damndest to get a hold of himself. He was tired of crying about this already, and had just happened today, hell it’s not like they were together every day of their marriage, he was practically single anyway… They never even fucking saw each other.. Why did this bother him so much?  

"Ugh Jen?" Jared said, sounding almost like a little kid afraid to tell their parents something bad.... 

"What?" 

White hot fear licked at Jensen right up his backbone, it was never good in this industry for someone to use that tone while looking at social media... 

"Uh, looks like the video of you and y/n tonight has gone almost viral." 

Video of him singing at cons did that all the time so it was no surprise to him that one of him signing with a fan had gotten a lot of attention. So Jensen knew that was just the warm up for the let down, and braced himself…

"Okay, So." 

"Well Danneel saw it and, well......" 

Jared handed Jensen the phone, and what he saw there made him nauseous, and like he’d been shot in the chest with a 12 gage full of buckshot all at once….

“That bitch..”

............................................................

Your POV:

Walking back through the door of your hotel room you fall face first on the bed. 

Exhaustion was a very real thing, but you still had a lot of adrenaline pumping through you, way too much to sleep right now. Your mind racing a thousand miles a second. Analyzing everything that had happened tonight almost to a fault. 

Did I dream that or did it really happen? 

What's going on with Jensen? 

Why was he so upset? 

Were Richard and I the only ones that noticed? 

Jared obviously saw? 

Every time you think about it  your skin would tingle where Jensen had touched you. Hell by the time the two of you hand ended the song he was seriously so close for just a moment you thought he was going to kiss you. 

Thank God he didn't... 

Cause you probably would have passed out in his arms... 

Which probably wouldn't have been a bad thing, if you were alone, and not on a stage in front of hundreds of people with cameras and smartphones. 

Not cool...

With that thought you picked up your phone, and saw literally hundreds of twitter, facebook, and Instagram notifications on your phone. 

Your eyes bulging out of your head as you scrolled through twitter, the video of Jensen and yourself had gone almost viral. 

Your head started spinning and you honestly felt like you were going to throw up. Everyone seemed to like it, that wasn't the thing. The SPN fandom was seriously awesome that way, and for the most part everyone supported each other in one way or another... 

It was the post from Danneel that shook you from your head to your toes... 

"Y/f/n!! Get your ass over here!!" You yelled toward the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth. The room was spinning slightly as you read the tweet over and over again, as if you could make it disappear from the world wide web by sheer willpower...

"What?" She yelled back, running toward the bed, a look of concern on her face. 

She knew your tone had changed from joking in the elevator to almost sheer panic. 

"What is it?" She asked, taking the phone out of your hand. 

"Dang...Poor Jensen!!" She said, staring stocked at the phone. She was staring at the phone in slack jaw shock probably like the rest of the fandom at the moment.. You knew this was just the calm before the storm though, and you were about to be under fire form some of the more hardcore fans in the fandom...

"Well he was having a harder time than what it looks like on the video." You said, she looked at you completely lost. Apparently the audience didn't catch it. A moment ago you would have been relieved, now though you wished they would have just seen him.. 

Then man was a damn good actor...   

"That part in the video that looks like he's kissing my neck….. He wasn't. He had started to cry, and was wiping his face." You mummer, guilt rocking you to your core for agreeing to sing that song with him now that you knew what was going on with him... 

"Bullshit!" She yelled. "Why didn't you tell me he was that upset!" 

“I thought it wasn't any of our business! What was going on with him was obviously not intended to be a public thing. So I kept my mouth shut out of respect." You shot back. 

Looking down at the tweet you still couldn’t believe what you were seeing was really happening..

The tweet was a repost of the video of Jensen and yourself singing. That wasn’t the problem. It was the comment above that  made you nauseous. 

Well since Jensen seems to have ALREADY moved on to basically screwing fans on a live stage!! Looks like I OWE my fans the explanation! Jensen and I are getting a DIVORCE!!! WE ARE NO LONGER TOGETHER!!  I don't know who this girl is, but baby girl RUN!! I PROMISE YOU DON'T WANT THAT!!!

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

A few hours later you found yourself still awake and staring at the ceiling. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight no matter how you sliced it.. 

You couldn’t believe she did that.. 

She doesn't even know you!!! 

Some fans jumped to your immediate defense, telling her to go screw herself, and that didn’t happen the way the video was making it look, that it was a lot more innocent in person. 

Then there were some ‘Jensen always deserved better than you anyways’. 

That It was just a performance... Meaning nothing and she needed to get over her high and mighty act... 

Jensen was a sweetheart. He was probably totally heartbroken, and she was a bitch... 

Then there were some that were attacking you... 

"She's just a whore. He'll come crawling back." 

"He's a jackass you deserve better." 

"She wont even last with him a week." 

"She's just a side bitch."

 "She's ugly, he downgraded." 

"OMG I didn't know Jensen was into fat girls!"

They cut deeper than a stranger's opinion of you probably should have. Especially that last one. You weren't fat by any means, but you also weren't hide stretched over the bones. 

You had curves. 

Your stomach wasn't perfectly fat. 

Your thighs touched together when you walked. 

You didn't have a model body, but hell Marline Monroe was fatter than you are!! 

You and Jensen we're NOT together in any sense of the word, and by no means was he practically “Screwing you” on stage tonight..

A slight knock on the door disturbed your thoughts, and you looked over to y/f/n. 

She was still knocked out. 

So you quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen down your face, dragging yourself out of bed. You got up and looked through the peephole in the door, but all you could see was a white t-shirt. 

You unlock the door, and peck through the crack to see who was standing there at this hour in the night, and who you saw nearly knocked you on your ass for the second time tonight..

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

Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ 

Binge Tag: @sarahbaker2010​

[scandeniall]

leaving the fold

pairing: atsumu x reader

summary/warnings: Youre leaving the Jackals. That means your life, position, and soulmate./ mentions of death, (bsd verse so implied mafia), profanity

wc: 2.1K

notes: this is a bungo stray dogs type universe and yall are the port mafia in this case because i miss them :-). also this is more dialogue heavy than i usually do ???

“What the fuck am I hearing about ya leaving,” You mentally roll your eyes at the now likely dented wall behind your door that had been pushed open. You don't even look up from your laptop’s screen as you greet in amusement.

“Well hello to you Atsumu. You're back from your mission already? How’d it go, I’m sure it was like child’s play to you” The fist coming down on your desk does little to shock you, nor are you surprised when the top of your laptop comes crashing down.

“Cut the shit. You're trying to leave the agency-”

“Will you keep your voice down,” you hiss out standing from your desk to shut your office’s door. You ignore his comments about not giving a damn about his volume, despite him lowering it anyways. Turning back to face him, you eye him menacingly. “How did you find out.”

“So it's true huh.” His eyes glare at you just as deadly. “What were ya gonna do, just disappear one night. Ya know more than anyone here that leaving is a death sentence” His voice grows angriet the longer he speaks. “Besides, where ya gonna go. There's nowhere in this city that the Jackals don’t have eyes. We run the underground.” By the time he had finished the two of you stood face to face. “You’re an executive for fuck’s sake (Y/N) you can’t- ”

“Shugo was set up.” Silence settled among the two of you. Both of you thought about your fallen friend. You noticed Atsumu’s eyes undergo a range of emotions: confusion, comprehension. Shock, disbelief, and back to anger as he silently accused you of lying. “Foster purposely sent him on that mission, knowing he’d die.” You stand tall as the words leave your mouth, managing to calm your raging emotions. The only indication of any sort of emotional weakness came from the balled fists resting at your sides. “Why the hell would-”

“Shugo was planning on leaving the org. I don’t know how, but Foster caught word, and-” the words trailed off as you walked past Atsumu to sit on the corner of your desk. “He had a pregnant girlfriend. Said he couldn’t keep putting her or their unborn child at risk with this life. He proposed about a year ago.” You begin to fiddle with your fingers, ignoring the shock written all over the blonde’s face. “They’d been dating maybe two or three, I’m not sure. When they got engaged he told me he was gonna leave. That's why he started taking lower paid and ranked missions. Then, she got pregnant and that was the last straw for him.” The crack in your voice ultimately caused your friend to react.

“If he had him killed, why are you trying to do the same thing.” This time the words came out in hardly a whisper as you felt his body settle next to yours on the desk. The feel of one of his hands encasing yours brings you back to the reality you’d talked yourself into. “I can take care of myself and you know that. Youngest to become a Jackal’s executive ever, remember,” you lightly bump his shoulder as you tease. “Not to mention, I’m the best at hand-to-hand combat here.” At that Atsumu scoffs, “Yeah, because your ability is better for being on the defensive.”

“I can still kick your ass,” you shrug as the conversation dies down.

“You think, Foster is letting you out without raising hell.” For a second his hand tightens on top of yours so quickly that you barely notice. “Him bringing you into this world was like hitting a goldmine.”

“Which is why he wouldn’t kill me right away-”

“You don’t know that,” his voice begins to grow again. “Listen. I know why ya wanna leave, but it's a shitty idea. Ya don’t have anywhere to go, can’t get a normal job or anything. Ya know I loved Shugo too, but people here die all the time” You snatch your hands away at his words, pushing at his arm as it reaches out for you again.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now,” you laugh out humorlessly. Your mind flashes back to the dozens of conversations the two of you had over the years as you practically grew up together. “We didn't choose this world, it chose us.” The phrase he’d always tell you along with the kid who used to say it long forgotten. 

“Well one of us needs to be realistic. It's part of the life we all chose including him.” You shake your head at disbelief following his words.

“Get the fuck out Atsumu,” is the only thing you settle on. Your voice is low and dangerous, but he doesn’t move. “Now,” this time you were the one raising your voice. The thing you’d told him not to do as he walked in.

“We’re on the same level (Y/N). I’m not one of your damn subordinates,” the fellow executive bites back. He easily avoids the book you opt for throwing at him.

“Difference is, we’re in my office.” This time he narrowly misses the punch you’d thrown his way.

However in the attempt, he neglects the fact you managed to get behind him, until you had his arms pinned against his back. “I said get the fuck out.” You scoff as you let him go, now pointing at your door. The air is heavy, as the two of you seethe in anger. Atsumu shakes his head in disbelief as he nears the exit.

“Tell me one thing,” you raise your eyebrows signaling him to continue. “Where do ya plan on going.” The question was void of any real concern. In an attempt to further upset you it was asked in malice. Mocking you. Telling you that outside of the Jackals you had no one nor anywhere to go. And it pissed you off.

“Maybe the Adlers,” the words came out solely to spite him. The mention of your counterpart organization angered him to where his own ability activated. So you stood. Stood in anger as the books on your bookshelf flew to the ground and papers fluttered to the ground. “When you realize the way Foster is leading this organization will be our demise don’t come crying to me,” you yell over the sound of your office being trashed. 

“Fuck you”

“Fuck you,” the door slammed shut behind you and you were left with an aching heart and trashed office.

The argument with Atsumu had been over a month ago. And since then, the two of you didn’t interact unless otherwise necessary. Your missions together were strictly business, both of your subordinates easily catching onto the tension. Your comments at one another just too harsh to be considered the usual joking. Whenever you had to work together, you’d opt for not riding together to sights. 

The only time things seemed relatively normal were during executive meetings. You would take your rightful place as Foster’s right hand, engaging and giving updates and directives. You interacted with Atsumu as usual, even throwing in careful jokes and he’d reciprocated. He knew you still had every intention of leaving. You were stubborn. When you set your mind to something you followed through. It was one of the things he loved about you. Despite his hurt at that he didn’t want you to end up dead all because he couldn’t act in a mere meeting. 

You’d finished the last letter, the one actually designated for Atsumu. It was nearing 3am and you had to be gone soon. You looked over your now former office for the last time and sighed. Eying the letters in your hands your mind thought back to the people you were leaving behind. The closest thing you could call friends in this hellhole. Directly under you in ranks were the two you entrusted as the commanders of your infiltration unit; Bokuto and Sakusa. You’d miss the way Bokuto would laugh after a completed mission somehow making the carnage left behind seem a little less gut wrenching. You’d even miss the quips at your hygiene when you got unnecessarily messy during a fight. 

Then you had the guys under Atsumu’s command. His trusted commanders; Osamu and Suna, and the newest member of the organization. Hinata, a firecracker who was quickly rising in ranks.

The last letter belonged to your fellow executive. The one you shared nearly a decade’s worth of memories with. Your right hand on missions, the two of you clicking immediately and being able to act scarily in sync. the one who you’d have hundreds of sparring matches with and he’d pout whenever you let him win. The person who’d you stay getting into trouble about the base as kids, annoying everyone in your sight with pranks. The one you swore was your soulmate, despite the fact that the two of you could never be. Not with the lives you lived at least.

The buzz of the new burner phone you’d gotten shook you out of the thoughts. The text about who you were set to meet reminded of you of the time. Adjusting the straps of your backpack, you shut the light out of your office for the last time. You’d manage to drop the letters off, slipping them in the lockers of their respective occupants before sneaking off. You’d made it outside, before a voice sounded behind you. “Ya didn’t think I’d let you go by yourself now.”

Turning around you were met with Atsumu, who looked unusually happy given the situation. “Atsumu, I’m leaving and you can’t stop-” hands reached around your waist pulling you into him and effectively cutting you off.

“Of course not. Listen. You’re leaving but you're not going alone alright.” The way his index finger pressing against your lips causes your breath to catch. “It can’t be me. Not yet anyway. Listen, you were right about Foster. He’s trying to lead us into an all about war with ability users.”

That revelation causes your eyes to widen. You almost forget about the fact that Atsumu’s body was pressed against yours and that your lips were so close to one another. He only nods at your shock, looking around cautiously before continuing. “Bokuto and Sakusa are going with you. You need someone with some offensive ability, and you need Sakusa to keep you on track.”

“Are you serious,” you whisper. Your friends were coming with you? He only nods offering a smile that disappears just as quickly as it occurs.

“I assume you already had a plan for yourself. Got room for two more?” You quickly confirm, making a mental note to text your awaiting party. You also confirm after he asks you about a burner phone. “Alright good. Sakusa has my burner and some information about where we can meet up later.”

Your hands go towards his chest gently pushing him away. “I have so many questions right now-”

“Babe, you have to go. Morning guards will be here soon. We’re going to bring Foster down. For now Me, Samu, Suna and Hinata are staying here. Acting as normal. But we’re your inside eyes ok and when the time is right we’re here with you.” Your mind hardly registers the new nickname. He was with you. He believed in you and thought you were doing the right thing. The only thing you could do was wrap your arms around him in a hug. You only nod as he whispers for you to please be safe. 

“Fuck! Tsumu, I wrote you all-”

“Already got Samu on it. I knew you couldn’t just leave. By now he should have already picked the locks to your guy’s lockers. Now you have to go. Bo and Omi are waiting about 2 blocks down at the end of the street.” You find yourself nodding once again, this time caught off guard when his lips come down to meet yours in a quick kiss. You’re the one to pull away, this not being the time nor place. “Get the info from Omi- and we’ll figure out a meeting for next month.”

His words cause you to step away from him, taking a deep breath. “Be safe Y/N”

“Aren’t I always,” you shoot him a smirk before nodding. He watches as you depart, lost in how he was now going to have to act in order to uphold his promise to you. “You couldn't even say I love you? How lame,” the voice causes Atsumu to jump as he scowls

“Shut up Suna! You’ve been spending too much time with Samu”

a/n: not me making meian oda and coach foster mori LMFAO. Yall also peep how i made bokuto and sakusa both hirotsu. Ok so yeah idk if im making a part 2 so in the case that i dont (bc this plot wasn;t even supposed to get a happy ending)

atsumu’s ability is basically gravity control so basically chuya (yeah he manipulated it to trash ur office), you ability is smoke manipulation aka you can form it, its poisoneous but not deadly and can only really stun momentarily or be used as a way to impair vision. Atsumu got them dazai brains, and you got them chuya hands. But yeah you were the youngest exec like dazai due to a back story that u wont know unless i decide to make another part, and yall basically double black

[evakuality]

Druck, s5 episode 10 - belated thoughts and overall season impressions

I really like that Nora is still being shown with her symptoms here.  She’s reconnecting with people, and letting people know things about what’s happening, but that doesn’t magically fix everything.  And it’s good that she takes the chance to talk to them a little bit about everything.  It does feel a bit sudden in a lot of ways - she was just anxious about telling the therapist all this stuff and being labeled crazy (I assume - that’s certainly the vibe she gave off) and now she’s super happy to tell the girls all this stuff.  I’m happy that she wants to and feels like she can, but it also feels quite quick.  But that’s the nature of something like this, I guess.  Everything needs to be resolved now.  The whole business with the merch is weird too, with the way she just goes ‘yeah sure, I’m emotionally numb so I’ll draw lots and lots of pictures on lots of things.’  Again, the girls are nice about it, but I guess she feels a bit guilty because it was her who stuffed it up so it feels like there’s some pressure there, even if they don’t mean it.  And ugh, poor Ava when Kieu My turned up - I mean I get that most of this group don’t necessarily know how bad the whole thing was for her but it feels really weird that the focus is on Fatou’s nerves here rather than actually dealing with some of the bigger and more serious stuff that’s floating around with this.  I know it was more the others, but we know from later that this was pretty shitty for Ava.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - I really hope the bullying gets addressed properly and not swept under the table.  The fact that Nora is still happy to be around these people after her experiences with Constantin and Ismail makes me wary.  But I do still have hope that all this will be worked through.  If they are combining the squads (and it looks like they are), then they can’t have this unresolved, not when it’s such a big thing for Ava (and should have affected Nora more if she hadn’t been so numb to everything).

I understand why they have this scene with Kiki about being allowed to stay in the flat by themselves, and I think it’s goods that they deal with all of that (the way Kiki came running as soon as she felt she was needed - it’s not good for her, as they all seem to realise and I’m glad everyone is getting to do what’s working best for them), but it felt very rushed (I suspect I may say that a lot about this episode - it’s all stuff that needs to happen and it’s already quite long, but it feels too fast for me).  And the same with Nora’s comments about therapy.  She says she quite likes it and wants to continue and yet we didn’t see that.  What we saw was a very closed off and belligerent Nora who was only just starting to thaw in that session.  And yes she has a reason to make it all seem more cheerful than she really feels, but it’s still very abrupt as a change.  This is probably the only time I haven’t found a scene with this family compelling and that’s a bit of a shame.

And another rushed moment.  There was a lot shoved into this one clip (Josh, merch, a bullying session, a concert we never heard of til now, a random half-baked apology from Constantin) - for some reason, the show thinks Ismail and Constantin still need to be assholes for no reason.  I mean, clearly it’s designed to show that Kieu My is ‘better’ than they are because she engages and is willing to do ‘12 year old stuff’, but again, if we’re connecting these two squads then this sort of stuff has to stop.  I know I get worked up about this, but it really bugs me.  This behaviour is childish and I’m finding it boring to watch.  Even the apology from Constantin (which does seem sincere) isn’t enough to balance how stupid this ongoing behaviour is.  Hopefully they deal more with that later too and don’t just drop it.  My other take away from this: Nora has to draw 76 things already????  This is going to take forever and I have no idea how she’s going to manage that alongside her classwork.

Oh, I love this little mis-matched table and chair thing they have going on.  It’s so cute and I feel like it really perfectly fits them and their vibes, you know?  This whole friendsgiving idea is so cute and I love that they took what Ava was saying and tried to do something nice for her.  They really are a sweet group of kids.  And her face when she saw it is just ... perfect.  Ugh, when am I getting my Ava season?????  This little conversation between Nora and Josh is very good, too.  You can feel him trying and how hard it is for them both.  I do wish they had dragged this part out a bit longer, either pushing the original break up to earlier in the season or by spreading this into another one, but I like that they’re showing this part.  It IS awkward and difficult to be friends with someone you have feelings for and good on Josh for saying that he just can’t do it.  It hurts and it’s hard, but honesty really is key.  And that, for me, is the biggest thing Nora has had to learn this season.  You can’t hide behind a face and expect things to be okay.  So all these moments of honesty that she’s facing and dealing with, those are so important to her growth.  And then we end with the girls supporting each other which I also really love.  They are all super adorable!

This last clip is also nice.  I still think this sudden ‘live concert’ coming out of nowhere in this last episode is a bit rushed, but the execution is cool.  Ava and Fatou are adorable together and I need a lot more of them singing.  I’m not 100% feeling the thing with Josh and Nora, which is kind of ironic, but it is cute.  I just wish this had all been given more time.  In fact these are the things I wish had more space: the Cash Queens reunion/reconciliation (it needed more conversation/discussion), the Constantin/Ismail/Kieu My stuff being dealt with in more depth (though hopefully this is coming), the Machwitz siblings deciding to live together and Kiki being okay with it (that one needed another clip or two, I think), and the Josh/Nora reconciliation.  Some things have been done really well.  I do think Nora’s mental health was done well, and I liked that it makes clear in this episode that she isn’t totally well and doesn’t expect to be in the near future.  Having said that, I’m not a huge fan of the ‘minute by minute’ idea being moved here.  In some ways it works (this is about a mental illness, after all, and so it fits in that way), but in others ... that’s so iconic for a specific situation and this doesn’t fit in with that one.  Even needed it in a very specific way, and Nora needs something, sure, but I don’t think quite nails her specific needs and I wish they had thought it through for her a little more thoroughly.

Overall, I like the episode.  My biggest issue with this episode is that it’s trying to do so much in such a short time.  Every clip has so much packed into it that nothing really feels like it has time to breathe.  I assume there’s a reason why they’re sticking to 10 episodes, but I wish that either they didn’t have to or that they had paced things more evenly through the season.  The great strength of Skam and Druck is, I feel, that everything is allowed to be paced as it needs to be.  That things happen in a way that gives weight and meaning to lives in a way that isn’t dramatic and isn’t overwrought, but which shows truths about people and their lives.  That this episode hasn’t been able to do that in the same way is a shame.  It’s the ending; it should be the strongest one.  Having said that, I think the friendsgiving clip manages to do exactly that and I love it for it.  It is my favourite clip of this episode and one of my favourites of the season.  This probably feels negative and like all I’m doing is criticising the episode and the season, but that’s not true at all.  

Overall I really enjoyed this season, particularly the sibling dynamics and getting to know the new girls.  It has its flaws, but so do my absolute favourite seasons, and I think it’s a really nice entry into a new gen and some new characters.  The mental illness plot was good to see and I really liked some of the decisions they made around showing its build up and how it affected Nora.  The lighting chosen, the framing, some of the shots they chose - it all built that part up very well.  And while the resolution to it did feel a bit rushed, I do like the acknowledgement that it’s still part of Nora and she’s going to be dealing with it into the future.  And while I’m not on board with Kieu My being the love interest until and unless they address the bullying properly, I do like that we have plots already brewing for next season.  Ava is clearly not cool with it (that whole ‘you deserve better than her’ thing she said to Fatou), and Fatou was clearly thinking she had a chance until the Freindsgiving business and so things are set up for the new season.  It’s a really decent intro to the new era, and solidly sets up characters while telling a story that is good and even compelling in places.