#the daylight is just too unstable it fucks me up

[chaos-coming]

My friend went out of town and lent me her blackout curtains bc it is Daylight All The Time up here and holy crap i havent slept this good in months

[minorisato]

if at all possible, please spare me the pain

slashers, dead by daylight / ghostmyers / wc: 843 / warnings: explicit s-lf h-rm, s-icidal thoughts, homicide, unhealthy coping mechanisms / notes: old vent fic

Danny just has this… habit.

He’s never been diagnosed, nor does he ever want to be, but he’s pretty sure it’s something like a personality disorder. Even in his own (very biased) opinion, he can admit he’s unstable by normal-person standards, and he has an anger problem, and he doesn’t care that he has an anger problem, which actually makes it a lot worse, in a roundabout way.

When it’s bad, he’ll stab something, preferably something that can die, and he’ll throw things, and slam doors, and he’ll flail and move and move, anything just to get it out of his system. When it’s really bad, he’ll cut himself, and imagine the anger flowing out with his blood. Then, of course, when it’s really, really bad–

 “Just once. Just once, please. I need to bleed it out,” he’d say, happily on his knees in front of Michael. “I need to bleed it out, the ones I give myself aren’t enough. Please, Michael, I know you can give me one good one.”

Michael, then, with his emotions as hard to discern as ever, would give him a great one. Danny would routinely wake up an hour or so later, new wound scarred over, hurting like hell. Then he’d lock himself into one of the many rooms of the Myers’ house and cry until he couldn’t anymore. This process could range from anywhere between fifteen minutes and two hours. Then he’d come out, smug and haughty, and pretend none of it ever happened in the first place.

Michael, of course, was a self-motivated man. Danny was too, so it’s not like he blamed the larger. Having an infinite amount of Danny’s to kill repeatedly– all while he was begging for it, he wanted it, wanted to die, like an addict– didn’t seem to bother him in any way.

Which always led Danny to question; what’s up with the crying and isolating? Both of them were getting what they wanted, but every single time, he’d end up sobbing until he puked, and then sobbing more. He was getting what he wanted, he was giving Michael what he wanted. His anger was gone, just replaced by soul-crushing sadness. Why? Why was he like this? Why did he get so overwhelmingly angry? Why did he need to die to get it all out? Why can’t he be fucking normal? Why did he even kill in the first place? Why is he so insistent on being unhappy?

He’d always ask himself these questions, curled in on himself, imagining a life where he actually could be normal– it was almost unfathomable, but the idea of a normal job, normal family, normal life, it tugged at his heartstrings. This, too, he’d beat himself up over. He chose this. He did it because it was the only thing that made him feel alive and he ran with it because it was a high like no other. He was well past the point of no return. There was no normalcy waiting for him.

Little cuts were never enough. Big cuts, stabs, too, were starting to not be enough.

Maybe if he was really nice, bargained with the Entity enough, she’d loosen her grip, and he could go, could die, for real this time–

A loud bang hit the door, and Danny jumped at the sudden noise. He didn’t answer, he couldn’t. He didn’t trust his own voice. Michael would go away eventually. After all, what did he care?

Another bang. Then another.

Danny stared, sniffling, as the door shook. Another.

Then the latch broke.

“Wait,” Danny’s throat let out, before the rest of him could catch up. Realization was very suddenly dawning on him that a wooden door would not stop a 6’7” man who’s favourite hobby is murder. “Wait, wait, wait, please don’t come in, please–”

But Michael is a self-motivated man, and he doesn’t stop when teen girls beg him, he doesn’t stop when nurses beg him, or survivors, or Danny. The shorter doesn’t have time to find where he threw his mask, doesn’t have time to cover his face at all, can’t gather himself together, as Michael Myers waits for no one.

Danny wants to yell at him, wants to curse him out, wants to demand solitude, he wasn’t done wallowing, but he doesn’t get a chance before he’s yanked backwards, yelping, pulled into Michael’s grip. Said grip is frighteningly tight, some imitation of a hug, of genuine intimacy. Danny’s still crying. He can feel his ribs bruising. He cries harder at the implication of Michael sparing him any care or thought.

Michael takes them to the floor like that, still holding Danny in that kind-of-hug. They’re cuddling. They’re cuddling, as though they’re an actual normal couple, as though Michael didn’t stab Danny through his chest less than two hours ago.

Between his sobs, Danny actually laughs. It’s awful. Everything is awful. There's something wrong with him, deeply, intrinsically, unfixable. There is no normalcy waiting for him.

He buries his face into Michael’s neck. This is close enough, for now.

[confessions-official]

My parents are good. They gave me and still give me every support I need.

But sometimes they are so (emotionally) unstable. Both of them. And I hate having to be tangled in the middle and listening to them talking about each other when I can see in plain daylight that they are both unstable and can be very toxic.

Its been hurting me more lately. Maybe it's because I'm older and can notice more. Or they are getting older and they are chipping more and more off each other. Im scared this will make a print in me and stay with me for the rest of my life. Carry some of them with me. Every time one of them says I'm like them I get scared and try to analyze myself to purge that out of me. I don't want to carry that.

I know people that when they talk about their parents it makes me feel like this isnt normal, and that I just got a weird case. They love me so much. But they can hurt me so much too. Most of the stress at the start of this year has been triggered by them getting unstable with each other.

Sometimes I can see them trembling with rage and I just grew up thinking that's normal, getting my hands squished since I was a kid when they got in those episodes and they didnt even seem to notice and didn't bring attention to it so I thought it was normal. Ignoring boundaries and acting like it's a joke and gaslighting you into thinking you are in the wrong or overly sensitive when you try to stand up for yourself by posing themselves as the victim and hurting you when you were just minding your own fucking business and they decided to come over and get all your attention and expect a positive response.

I don't know when I will get a job of my own and get more chances to get some breathing space. I'm so nervous and confused. Maybe I should have left my dreams on the side and look for a more stable career first.

I have been talking more to other relatives as of late and avoiding venting to them because I feel like an extra burden to how they are struggling to keep everything running. If they can't take very good care of themselves I will try to be more independent and do whatever I can on my own and with people from farther away. I'm trying my best. It could be worst I know, but it still hurts.

 

[pickledpascal]

Killer Queen

Chapter Five: get him back!

Warnings: Vague smut, psychological torture, implied death, blood, out of character soldier boy (this isn't new)

Word Count: 3.3k

Killer Queen Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The Boys left to leave Eden, Amber, and Soldier Boy to do whatever they were going to do to Homelander. Though, Butcher had quite a few ideas as to what they were.

For Marvin, it was especially hard to just leave Soldier Boy. He wanted to know what made the man tick, how the Russians got him in that ice box, to begin with, and how he might be able to hurt the guy. However, he trusted Amber. Strangely more than he trusted Butcher. She always got a job done how they planned it to get done. Marvin appreciated that about her, especially with how much could go wrong with the line of work they were in. 

So, if anyone could wrangle Soldier Boy, he knew it'd be her. Besides the way he talked to Hughie, Soldier Boy didn't seem too unstable like back in the lab or even since he blew up that building on Main. Whatever Amber did, Marvin had to commend her for it.

Eden hummed softly before she rubbed her hands together. “Well, everything’s ready to properly torture this son of a bitch. Just lemme know so I can leave and take Ryan with me to Annie's place.” She winked. 

Amber gave her a look, causing Eden to quickly nod and find Ryan so they could leave. 

Not only was Amber one of Eden's only friends but she was also akin to a parental figure. She joked about calling Amber her father, which Amber didn't mind but only when Eden said it, so being around when she knew Amber was having sex was not what she wanted. Ever. Eden heard her once and promptly left for a few hours. Since then, they have made a code of sorts.

The code simply being to tell the other if they have plans that might end up with someone in their bed. 

Eden had her moments too. Lately, though, it's just been Annie coming over. Or they'd go out on dates. To small ice cream parlors, hole-in-the-wall restaurants, take a walk around a nearby park, and a lot of other things like that. Small stuff. But it meant a lot to Eden and she knew it did to Annie. So she could do some normal stuff.

“C'mon, sweetheart.” Amber smirked at Ben, lifting a hand to his cheek before it dropped to his hand and pulled him upstairs. 

Obediently, Ben followed and shut her bedroom door behind him. 

The following week was fairly successful if Eden had any say in it. She checked in every so often on Homelander just to make sure her plans were working. Judging by the screams and utter disgust lacing his features, she'd say it was. See, there was one thing Eden wanted to take advantage of that Homelander had. Advanced hearing. Even through the thick metal of the bunker in their basement, Homelander heard nearly everything that happened in the house. Unfortunately for him.

On the first day, Eden revealed Soldier Boy and his relationship with Homelander. How the rough, “unclean,” American man was his father. The opposite of Homelander. He was the clean, perfect, ideal American dream. It was eye-opening. Homelander idolized him when he was a child. No wonder why. That was his father.

Except now that realization stung how he imagined a jellyfish would. Or perhaps if he got eaten by a shark. 

It was maddening.

He could hear everything. Every creak in Amber's bed. Every little noise that left Ben's lips. Every whisper of praise. Every slap of skin against skin. Every breath Amber took. Every tear that left Ben's eyes. Every ring of that goddamn bell. 

Homelander might've been turned on if it wasn't his father getting the living daylights fucked out of him. Even if Amber was bitch, she was still hot. But the thought pained him now. 

He broke by the end of the second day. 

But torture was torture and Eden had him for a week. She wouldn't let him off that easy considering he had done much worse for less. She was lucky Ben and Amber both had stamina that could last for hours, days if they really wanted, so they didn't stop often. Only if they needed food or some sleep.

Eden would give them her leftovers from her dates with Annie when she came home. Usually late when she knew Amber would feel sleep creep into her mind. 

“Some take out from that one Asian place you love.” Eden smiled as she handed it to Amber through the crack of her door. 

Amber had a light sheen of sweat on her chest as she stood with a bra and some sweatpants on. She covered the entire opening so as to not give Eden a glimpse of something she didn't want to see. “Thanks.” She returned the smile. The food was still warm but she could always heat it up herself if she thought it was a little too cold. “Night.” She hummed.

Eden nodded, “Night, love you.” She turned on her heel to tuck Ryan into bed. 

Amber watched her walk off before she closed the door to her room and locked it for good measure. She set the food on her end table and ran a hand through Ben's hair, sitting at the edge of her bed. 

It had been a long day. A long day Ben really liked. Amber too. He was out like a light but Amber knew he'd need something in his system, even if he was a Supe. You couldn't have that much stamina unless you ate like one.

She pressed a kiss to his head and gently nudged him awake. “Sweetheart, you gotta eat something. You haven't had food since this morning.” She whispered into his ear. 

Ben groaned softly, feeling a wonderful ache throughout his entire body. Hairs stuck to his forehead and neck. The room felt dangerously hot. Partly due to Amber herself. He rolled over on the bed to get a better look at Amber, he reached out and pulled her in for a kiss. A far gentler, tame kiss than the previous ones they shared that day. 

Amber smiled against his lips but pulled away. “Food.” She reminded softly. Ben let out a low whine in protest. “Tell ya what, hm? You eat and I'll make it worth your while.” 

Ever since this little “experiment” of theirs started, Ben had been craving Amber. Morning. Night. Day. It didn't matter when. And Amber couldn't find it in herself to deny him. Well, unless someone was home. Ben knew enough not to test her then. 

Ben simply nodded. After an intense day like the ones they've been having, he never felt like speaking. At least, not anything coherent that Amber could even try to begin to decipher. 

Amber smiled softly, pleased. She unwrapped the styrofoam box and opened it. It was a mix of beef, veggies, and rice tossed in a brown sauce that Amber could personally drink straight from the bottle. She grabbed the packaged wooden chopsticks, opened them, broke them apart, and started to feed Ben—she took a few bites for herself as well, seeing as she hadn't eaten much all day either. 

Over time, Ben had pulled Amber into his lap as they ate together. He ran a hand up her back, admiring the dips and curves of her body.

Amber shut the takeout box and chuckled softly as Ben unclipped her bra and nuzzled his face into the crook of her shoulder. “Mmmm.” He breathed in her scent. Even though she was sweaty, she still smelled sweet. He loved it. 

She ran her hand through his hair and pulled his head back slightly. “You're gonna have to be quiet.” She ordered softly. The house was big and the walls were soundproof for normal ears but she didn't want to test it. 

Ben pursed his lips but nodded. He couldn't help but be vocal when it was Amber helping him chase his high. She was just…. Perfect. He laid down on the bed, the bell dinged softly against his neck. 

Amber removed the rest of her bra and kicked off her pants and underwear. She climbed over Ben and kissed his neck. It sucked she couldn't give him hickeys that would last but that's what being a Supe entailed. “I know I told you I need you to be quiet, but I want you to tell me how you're feeling, okay?” She cupped Ben's jaw, tracing his bottom lip with her thumb. 

Communication was something they worked on a lot during their time together. Amber wanted to know Ben's needs and he had to voice them so she didn't push too hard. 

“Okay,” Ben breathed, his voice hoarse and rough. Maybe he needed some water too. “Go… slow.” He suggested. He still felt Amber everywhere. Her hands, her hair, her body. It was amazingly overwhelming. But even Ben got tired of the roughness. Sometimes. 

Amber pressed a kiss to Ben's brow bone. She planned on doing so. She spread Ben's legs enough to get between them after she lifted the covers from his body. She let out a breath and the whole temperature of the room shifted. Instead of the scalding hot it once was, it cooled to something more manageable. Not frigid, but a nice cold that felt good against Ben's warm skin. 

“That… feels good.” Ben let out a breath. After a while, he got used to the way Amber played with the temperature in their room. 

Amber let out a pleased hum in response, slowly pushing inside him. A sigh left Ben's lips. A content one. Like he was meant for this all along. Hell, he wouldn't mind if it was. She set a soft, slow pace as Ben wrapped his arms around her neck and a few noises left his lips. 

His eyes met Amber’s. She caught a flicker of something far different than the lust-filled looks he usually cast in her direction. Something softer. She kissed him, cupping his cheek as he pressed back against her. 

Sure, they've kissed before. But those were usually rough and rushed. This one wasn't. Amber didn't want to think too hard about what it meant. It meant something. Especially for Ben. 

He had opened up in ways he didn't think he could. Or would. For a man who had been alive for over a hundred years and mostly grew up in the forties, somehow every value he had crumbled when he met Amber. Actually, it was fucked out of him. Every bad thing about him was cleansed. It was still hard to open up but it was a little easier when the person he did it with was Amber. 

Now, she knew everything. About his father. About his life growing up. About his life after taking Compound V. About what happened to him in Russia. And she took everything in stride. She didn't flinch when Ben described some of the horrors he had to go through but she did look at him unimpressed when he described a steamy night with Farrah Fawcett. 

“Beautiful.” She whispered against his lips. It was so soft and spoken so affectionately that Ben nearly choked on tears. “Sweetheart,” She brushed his hair away from his face, “It's alright.” 

Ben swallowed thickly and nodded. He'd be alright. With Amber. He came with a light whine. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmured without a second thought. 

Amber didn't bat an eye at the words, pressing a kiss to his jaw. Internally though, she wasn't sure what that meant. She knew they had some sort of… connection given how malleable Ben was for her but love? She didn't expect that. To be fair, she didn't expect any of this. 

“Go to sleep.” She breathed into his ear. 

Ben whined softly, but a few moments later, he was fast asleep. 

Amber watched over him as he slept and tried to soothe him best she could if tension built up in his face and he had a nightmare. All she did was hold him close and rub his temples with a bit of permafrost. That always seemed to do the trick.

———

“Well dearie me, you're practically glowing, love.” Butcher hummed into his tea cup.

Today was the day. That Homelander would die. And perhaps so much more. Without Homelander, Vought was just another big boy company that contributed nothing to society except giving a few narcissistic people a God complex. 

Amber rolled her eyes and sipped on her coffee. At least Butcher came bearing gifts. Coffees for everyone while Amber made him tea. Butcher wasn't picky with his tea but Amber's was his favorite. 

Annie took a bite of her croissant while Hughie looked particularly interested in the fridge. Eden laughed a little at the pair. Well, was it more of a trio now? Because Ben never left Amber's side. Unless she needed to go to the bathroom. Even then, Eden was pretty sure they showered together.

“So what do you plan on doing?” Amber cocked an eyebrow at the Brit. “Make it quick? Or something more painful?” She imagined Butcher would want to try and crush Homelander’s skull or something similar. 

But perhaps he just wanted this over with so hopefully, more people could sleep better at night without having to worry about a certain Supe laser-eyeing them in the ICU or accidentally flying into their house and destroying half of it. 

Butcher pursed his lips then gave Amber his signature smirk. “Why do you wanna know, love? So you can watch?”

Amber looked at Butcher, unimpressed. “I'm not one for violent delights, Butch. Thought you would've noticed that by now.” 

Ben glanced at Amber from staring at the lid of his cup for too long. What did that mean? Amber was fairly rough with him. But violence could mean a lot of things. A lot of different things. 

“Right.” Butcher hummed. 

They all talked for a while more, mainly Amber and Butcher who were teasing each other with anything they could come up with. Ben watched. Even after being locked up in Amber's room for a week, he felt a tang of jealousy like this could all be taken away with one move from Butcher. It felt more heart-wrenching after what he said last night. 

Amber didn't return the words. 

Ben wouldn't make her but it all felt so disappointing. Sickening, even. 

“You okay?” Amber asked softly once they returned to the safety of her cold room. Butcher had made his way to the basement, looking more serious than Amber had ever seen. “I didn't wear you out, did I?” She rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

Ben’s Adam's apple bobbed as he ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to say he was okay, push everything down, and forget that interaction altogether. But Amber told him he couldn't. Not anymore. 

“Not really, no.” He murmured. “You and Butcher, you're… friends, huh?” Ben didn't like to admit things. Especially if he was jealous. Usually, it was women being jealous of his conquest of the week. Not the other way around.

Amber knew where this was going. “Yes. Just friends.” She cupped Ben's face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We will only ever be friends. Especially now that I have you.” Her thumb rubbed against the scar underneath his lip. That must've been there before he took Compound V or else it wouldn't have been there. 

Ben didn't feel reassured. Not yet. He looked into Amber's eyes, “Do you like me? Love… me?” 

His eyes were so vulnerable. So pleading. He wanted her to love him. Wanted her to like him. Ben hadn't shown much of his “normal” self since being with Amber. Maybe it was time to change that. They skipped the dating part and dove into sex. Which Ben didn't blame Amber for, he was a pain in the ass but he could be a gentleman sometimes. When he felt the need to be. 

He was nothing but cordial to Princess Diana. 

“I do, I just—” Amber glanced away from Ben, debating on if she should open up. Ben had been doing a lot of it lately and she was glad for it but she hadn't been returning the favor much. “Eden is the only person I say that to. The last person. Before that,” She took a breath. “It was my parents and they… it didn't end well. They're dead. I've known Eden a long time and, even then, I only started saying it recently. But I-I do love you.” She admitted softly, caressing his cheek. “I just might not say it as often as you want to hear it.”

“I could live with that.” Ben leaned forward to kiss the bridge of her nose, hooking a finger under her chin. “Do you wanna go on a date?” 

He thought it was time. Especially after Eden came home and gushed about the dates they went on with Annie. The warm lights in the park, the walks under street lamps with an ice cream cone in their hands, or the way Annie held her hand while they watched a scary movie in the theater. He wanted that with Amber.

He might've been on ice for forty years but the kinds of dates people went on didn't seem to change. Small, cute stuff. However, Ben was used to big, grand shows of love. Well, that's what he did for Crimson Countess anyway. He had a feeling Amber liked small shows of affection rather than big ones.

Amber chuckled. “Sure, sweetheart. We can go on a date.”

———

“It's done.” Butcher hummed. He and Hughie were dirty and bloody but the blood wasn't theirs and the dirt was from hiding a body. “Ryan should be safe and I…” He breathed.

“Have nothing else to do?” Amber said between bites of a sandwich. Ben stood off to the side of her, feeling a lot less jealous of Butcher being in Amber's presence. 

Even through her joking tone, Butcher knew she was serious. He was so overcome with hatred for Homelander and now that he was dead, what else could he do? Sure, he could fuck up some other Supe’s life but the only reason he started this in the first place was because of him. No one else was like Homelander. Whether that meant collateral damage or simply ideals, no one came close.

Amber crossed her arms. “Maybe it's time you try to have a normal life?” She suggested. “Let other people handle asshole Supes.”

“Like Nueman? Absolutely not.” Butcher argued. 

“Like Hughie,” She motioned to the man in question. “Or Annie. Hell, me.” Amber said softly. Like Ben, Butcher was a hard nut to crack but Amber was an expert at cracking them. 

Butcher pursed his lips. “Amber, you—you’re young. You don't need to do what I do.” He wiped his face and glanced at his palm. Dried blood and dirt. Whereas Amber was completely clean, free from blemishes. At least, from those he could see. 

“I am supposed to.” Amber countered, heat radiating off her body in waves. “I am the Avatar. My life is supposed to be dedicated to making sure the world is balanced. That people like Homelander or Stan Edgar do not get what they want.” Ben glanced at Amber, that warmth was getting a little too hot. He rubbed at her shoulder but that didn't stop her. “Aang took out Fire Lord Ozai when he was twelve. He took away his bending. I say it's high time we take away Stan Edgar from his fucking penthouse.” 

Ben stood straighter. Stan Edgar. That name rang a bell. He remembered. He was part of the plan to erase Ben from the Earth. He could get behind this plan.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Hughie asked the million dollar question after nearly scrubbing his hands raw in the sink. Butcher nodded at Amber, cocking an eyebrow at her. He had the same question on his mind.

Amber stayed silent for a while until she shifted her gaze to Ben. “How about he gets a visit from an old friend?”

------

tags: @aleemendoza2425-blog @yoyoanaria

taglist open here !!

[rozcdust]

Chasing ghosts

Platonic Pairing: Bonten x GN!Reader, Sanzu Haruchiyo x GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, violence, blood draining, gore, drug abuse, conspiracy theories, religious trauma, cancer, religious items, mentions of religious trauma, allergies, seeming disordered eating, Kakucho needs a break

Day 1 of Promptober

A sharp gaze prickled at the back of your neck, making you want to squirm, yet your stubbornness didn’t allow you to show discomfort, your all too damned pride forcing you to keep your focus on the work at hand.

So what if Sanzu was staring at you accusatory the entire past week? You didn’t even do anything, not to him at least, not that you would remember anyway, and even Kakucho told you to not worry about it, that Sanzu was just in one of his drugged-up episodes, and that you had nothing to worry about.

Still.

You were trying to peacefully do your job, and Sanzu was just standing and staring, like a fucking creep.

Ugh.

Mikey should have kept his rabid puppy dog chained.

“Why do you always do that?”

Your head snapped up, an eyebrow quirked.

“Do what?”

“Drain them of blood.”

Sanzu and his stupid fucking questions.

“Because it’s easier to chop them up and turn them into fish food that way? We all do this? Ran literally taught me how to do this. And why are you even here? You’re not doing shit!”

He shrugged, still eyeing you suspiciously, his face nestled into the crook of his elbows as he watched you work.

Rolling your eyes, you choose to ignore him, focusing.

Bodies won’t disappear on their own.

“Kakucho, I don’t know how to convince you, but I’m telling you, y/n’s a fucking vampire. Or possessed. Still not sure which one it is.”

Kakucho's head was buried within his palms as a sound of sheer desperation escaped his throat, his eyes screwed tightly shut to avoid looking at his one true current problem.

Sanzu.

Sanzu spewing bullshit conspiracy theories, precisely.

God help him.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Kakucho opens his good eye to peek at the pink-haired maniac.

“Do I even want to know how you came to this conclusion?” His voice was wary, tired already. This was utter nonsense, and Sanzu should have known it, even if his brain was* utterly and completely fried on whatever the fuck he snorts in his free time.

“Probably not. Wanna see anyway?” The grin playing on the scarred man’s lips made Kakucho nervous.

“No.”

Sanzu stood up from his chair, stretching like an irate cat, and with a quick, unstable step, left the room.

Kakucho thought he was free, and he just breathed a sigh of immense relief when he heard it.

The scratching sound of shitty, rusted wheels on marble floors echoed in the hallway, followed by Sanzu wheeling in a pinboard, a photo of your face thumbtacked to the centre of a true shit show, multiple strings of red yarn connecting it all back to you.

Kakucho almost wept.

He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Sanzu started by presenting a series of incidents.

Sanzu always found it odd you only ever worked at night, no matter how hard Mikey tried to drag you into meetings in broad daylight, you always refused, persistently and stubbornly, firmly stating that ‘Sun is a horrendous creature of misery and deserves death’ and ‘You’re more of a night owl’ and how you’d rather die than have that disgusting thing ever touch your skin.

Suspicious.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Okay, and? That proves nothing, Sanzu.”

“Kakucho, shut the fuck up and listen.”

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ ( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

Sanzu has been to your house a few, very few, times, as you were always cagey about your personal space and tried to kick all of them out as soon as possible, even if it was your turn to host the poker night and even if it was your turn to be the designated driver and let them sleep off the drunkenness in your house.

But he noticed something… Well, odd.

The blackout curtains.

Thick, dark fabric draped over every one of your windows, covering every possible entry point, blocking the entrance to the balcony and forbidding any and all natural light to as much as shyly try to enter your house.

You almost scalped Kokonoi when he tried to open them once, jumping onto him and forcing him down on the ground, sitting on his back, not getting off until he let go of the curtains and until you could close them all the way shut, muttering about the damage the UV light does to skin or some shit.

And the very few times he did see you in the sun, it was only after you lathered your skin with thick layers of sunscreen from a suspicious bottle with only the words ‘Ew ew sun’ written on it in sharpie.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Listen,” Kakucho groaned, running his hands down his face, “I get their fear of the sun is weird, and a little excessive, but dude, come on. Their mum died of skin cancer, and she died in their arms, it makes sense they’d be cautious.”

Sanzu frantically shook his head.

“No, because listen, there’s more.”

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

You barely ever went to dinner with them.

Whenever you were invited, your most likely answer was ‘No, thanks’, and the few times you did agree, you never ordered any food, no matter who was paying, instead opting out for some wine or whiskey instead, under the guise that you don’t really feel hungry.

Every.

Single.

Goddamn time.

You never ate at the headquarters either, or at least, Sanzu has never seen you eat, only ever seeing you sipping on coffee or boba at your desk when he barged into your office unannounced.

He has tried feeding you, but you refused like a stubborn mule every time, coldly saying you don’t trust his cooking before returning to sipping on damn Starbucks.

It was suspicious enough that Ran asked you about it, and you simply explained you have a couple of severe food allergies and don’t feel like dying on a fucking Tuesday from an anaphylactic shock, which did get Ran and Koko to shrug and leave you be, but not Sanzu.

He opened your fridge when he was at your house, just to check what you had in there if you never ate out, but all he found was a block of cheese and a carton of strawberry juice.

Suspicious.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“You dug around their fridge?”

“Kakucho, I don’t think you’re hearing my point.”

“They have allergies. You have no points.”

Sanzu sighed, frustrated, but that quickly got replaced by a smile.

And jazz hands.

“But wait! There’s more!” In his best showbiz tone, Sanzu continued rambling.

Kakucho was ready to cancel his subscription to life.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

Rindou sometimes wore crosses.

Not to show his huge devotion to Christianity of course, no, more as an accessory, one that looked damn fine on him if Sanzu was to pass any judgement, the silver crosses with ruby red jasper stones dangling from Rindou’s ears making him seem somewhat sophisticated, giving him the charming energy of a wandering ghost.

You absolutely hated Rindou’s silver cross earrings, a scowl twisting your face anytime you saw them, but you usually chose to say nothing.

Until Rindou noticed, and with an offence that bordered on hilarious, asked you what the fuck your problem was.

You merely sighed.

“Don’t like it when people wear crosses, that’s all.”

Rindou leaned back into his seat, now with a sneer.

“What, you hyper-religious or what?”

“Nah, try to go more ‘growing up with religious trauma’. Crosses just make me uncomfortable.” Shrugging, your gaze went back to your laptop, but Sanzu noticed the way you flinched if Rindou came closer to you when wearing his earrings.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Honestly, you’re starting to sound like an ass. They’re bi, and grew up in a super religious household, of course they’re not all up for fucking religious items.”

Sanzu’s seemingly infinite well of reasons you’re possessed apparently to dried up, and he slumped into his chair with a sour look.

“I’m telling you, and you’re not listening.”

“You honestly sound like you don’t have shit. You literally just misinterpreted their trauma and allergies and made them into some fucking monster, and really dude, that’s fucked.”

Sanzu huffed.

“They’re also allergic to silver! How do you interpret that, huh?!”

Kakucho truly wished to bang his head against the wall.

“They’re allergic to nickel, you piece of absolute ass, as is half the human fucking population, and all silver has nickel because silver by itself is too soft for jewellery.”

Sanzu sunk into his chair, arms crossed, pouting.

Kakucho forced him to write you an apology card.

Even with Kakucho trying to knock some sense into Sanzu, he was still convinced.

There was something off about you, and he knew it.

So as he Googled vampire lore, and possession symptoms side to side, about a thousand tab bars open on his laptop, he stumbled upon something that gave him pause.

Reflections.

You have a reflection, he knew that much, he has seen you try out clothes and pose in front of any fucking shopping window that was polished enough, but there is a catch.

Apparently, vampires in medieval folklore don’t have a reflection because old-timey mirrors are made with silver.

Silver, which you just so happen to be allergic to, and no, fuck what Kakucho said, he’s stupid, Sanzu knew it was silver and not fucking nickel.

Modern mirrors are made with aluminium.

Sanzu took a pause, and in a quick moment of putting two and two together, he texted Kokonoi.

You barely registered Sanzu sneaking into the break room next to you, being too tired at this late hours of the night to focus on anything but the coffee you were brewing.

“Hey, didn’t expect you to be here so late-“

You never got the chance to finish your sentence, because someone is a bitch and that someone just grabbed your fucking arm out of nowhere and started dragging you away.

“Wha-“

“I know what you are.” Sanzu briefly looked back at you to flash a grin, his nails digging into your wrist.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He didn’t respond as he kicked the doors of the men’s bathroom open.

“Sanzu, what the hell-“

Before you could process it, he grabbed your shoulders, shoving you in front of the mirror, giddiness mixing with glee visible on his stupid, stupid face as he stood behind you.

Your own tired eyes stared back at you.

He blinked.

“Wait, let’s just-“ He carefully pushed you out of the mirror’s reflection, knocking on it as if it were a broken TV, before pushing you back in front of it.

Still just your tired eyes and large eye bags.

“Huh.” His fingers sneaked to the side of your mouth, pulling your upper lip up to reveal small, if a little crooked canines.

Huffing, you wrestled out of his grasp, arms crossed over your chest.

“Mind explaining what the fuck is this about, Haruchiyo, my beloved? If you wanted to look at me you could have just DONE THAT!”

He scratched his head, confusion written all over his features.

“Sorry… Uh, thought you were a vampire.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

A beat of silence passed before you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Sorry.” He slightly bowed before scurrying away, slamming the doors to the bathroom shut, and leaving you alone.

Sighing, you turned to look at yourself, fixing the little bit of makeup that smeared under your eye.

Choosing to think you look presentable, you paused just as you were about to leave, a sort of glee forming on your face as you flashed yourself a grin.

Your canines scratched your bottom lip, drawing just a bit of blood.

You knew that replacing all the mirrors was a smart choice.

🔖Taglist:

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @sanzucide @touyasghost @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman

[han-shinsuke]

h a n d h e r o v e r

f e m a l e r e a d e r 🌹

m i n o r s k e e p o u t

[ tags, smut, nsfw, anal, foursome, themes ]

—•—

Without prior notice, he shows up in front of your dorm, dressed casually. You invite him inside but declined, telling you to come with him somewhere. You argue with him, insisting that you should change to something presentable but Bokuto seems to be in a rush so you have given up when he uses his puppy eyes. Inside his car, you keep checking your looks and it disappoints you. Unlike him, you look so ordinary. Well, you are someone insignificant. What’s the difference anyway?

“I’m gonna 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 you later, Y/N,” huh? you shot him a confused look at the use of some endearment.

You laugh awkwardly, “what, Kou?” he is your best friend and your secret crush.

“You look like a kid in your clothes and considering your height, you really look like 𝒐𝒏𝒆.” you pout your lips and he bursts out laughing.

It’s his fault! He didn’t even let you fix yourself! You were running around the University’s oval when he calls. Now, who’s fault it is that he’s being accompanied by a lady in core 5 inch shorts in black and a plain hoodie?

“Shut up, Kou. You’re annoying!”

After driving for almost an hour, Bokuto parks his car in front of Sakusa’s house.

Wait. Sakusa’s house?! You grab onto the belt when Bokuto tries mounting off the safety strap.

“Wait, Kou! Why the fuck are we here?!” you panic. Sakusa, you, and Oikawa are both in an unstable relationship. Not romantically, okay! You are their damn victim! They’re not criminals, well closer to that! Those two are your bullies and they are friends with your best friend, Koutaro Bokuto!

He taps your temple and comforts you that everything will be fine, that you won’t be harmed while he’s around, “it’s Omi’s birthday. He invited us for lunch.”

You nod your head. There’s no point in arguing. You were already there. He has your sweating hand inside his palm when you both entered the house.

“Give me ten seconds, Kou.”

Sakusa’s house rule no. 1; leave your shoes outside but if you are his friends, go straight in.

You remove your sneakers and leave your white socks on. You have been there before and you almost familiarised yourself with his rules. Since he considers you as his enemy rather than his subject of bullying, you are not allowed to sit or touch anything inside his home so you remain standing near the stairs when Bokuto runs to Oikawa in the kitchen.

You give Sakusa a nod as he descends from the top landing. He smells clean and fruity tuitee and you couldn’t help but blush when you notice his stare goes down to your feet.

Your insides trembles from the intensity of his gaze and that makes you feel like running away or hide from his sight.

Your breathing halts when he kneels after removing his fur slippers. His warm hand grab your ankle then slide your left foot in his slipper, then your right foot.

He didn’t speak a word. He just pointed you to the kitchen. His footwear is too big for your small ones but you still manage to walk comfortably.

While helping in the food preparation, Sakusa and Oikawa are constantly bumping their muscular arms against your shoulders. They even teases you that you lack in the free access of healthy foods in the fridge in your own home that’s why you’re thin and small. You 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕, okay?! They’re just huge and very athletic that developing muscles and all is no issue to them. And your case is different. Your height is 5'3", you weight right, meaning your body mass index is normal! Again, they are huge people and they look down on your kind. And these men prefers model-like body figures for women!

You let it all pass. You seem immune to all the teasings and soft pinches that those were no longer affecting you. Sakusa leads the way to his theater room, while you, Bokuto, and Oikawa are in charge of bringing all the foods in there.

There’s a long and wide white couch that looks like a king sized bed in the center and there’s also a big screen mounted on the wall. You settle on the lone chair in the viewing room, sit properly and try avoiding Sakusa’s intense gaze.

What? You did nothing to him!

The three men sits besides each other, Oikawa scrolls on the menu of which genre of movies to watch, Bokuto starts picking up some tarts and chews it. And then, there’s still him, Sakusa! Staring at you!

“Hand her over, Koutaro.” your face turn pale when Sakusa pulls his shirt off his body and leans on the couch.

You couldn’t find the will to speak. You stoned on your seat. Bokuto whistles, inching closer to you. He cups your face and whispers soothing words.

“Wh–what is happening here, Kou?” you sound nervous. Bokuto brings you closer to Sakusa. You grab onto your best friend’s arms. “Koutaro... ” a breathe of panic.

“You are his present to me, Y/N. You’re the desserts.” Sakusa pulls you down on his lap, he breathes closer to your hair. Something is growing in between his thighs. You look so scared. He gets even aroused.

“wanna rub my tongue on his pussy, Koutaro,” Oikawa moves closer, too, licking his lips.

“I’m... I’m not—” Oikawa stops you from talking, taking your chin in his hand. “You’re not what, Y/N?” he asks seductively.

“Kou–Kou... help me.” you hold onto his hand, giving him a scared look.

Sakusa tugs on your long hair before latching on your earlobe, “don’t worry, Y/N. Koutaro will help you. He will help you fuck yourself to sleep.”

And the talking ended there.

Oikawa snatches your face and slams his mouth on your opened ones, rolling out his tongue into you before brushing roughly his lips against your lips. Your both hands twitches, the kiss is electrifying. You try to pull away but he restrains you by gripping lightly your neck. You hear Sakusa laughs. He wraps his arms around your body, locking you in restrictions. Oikawa continues kissing you roughly that you can feel his warm saliva dripping from his mouth down to your chin. You didn’t respond to his kisses. You were in shocked. When he sucks on your lips and tongue, you didn’t recognise the moan that passed your lips.

“Undress her quickly!” still in a rush, Bokuto puts his words into action. He separates you from Oikawa’s mouth. You were panting when he pulls out your hoodie, showing your uncovered titsx in broad daylight. They look perfect and round and flushed. The three men growls, pouncing all at one on you. Bokuto has the right breast, Sakusa’s on the left and Oikawa, he moves between your legs, pushing your shorts to the side to take a good look on your rosy folds.

Oikawa licks the slit back and forth until it gets covered with his saliva. He chuckles when your body twitches. He dips his mouth again, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clitx while scratching your inner thighs. You moan loudly, arching your back again and again. Your moan matches the others’ moans and grunts. Both Sakusa and Bokuto are sucking on your titsx and they’re doing it like they’re milking on you. Swirling sharply their tongues and grazing their teeth on its softness. Damn. You didn’t even say yes to them!

Unknowingly, your mouth also salivates as well as your cunt being treated like a meal by Oikawa’s hot and needy mouth. He’s swirling his tongue and he’s sucking you there so noisily.

“Tooru~” you moan his name when he starts pumping digits into you while his thumb is pressing hard on your clitx. Your legs stretches up and down whenever his fingers goes deeper and harder and at the same time, circling his knuckles hard as well on your cunt. He makes you drip like crazy and it’s evident on your oozing core and salivating mouth. He laughs triumphantly, giving you the best finger fuck and tongue fuck. Your body convulses when you come in waves, the two men abandons your chest to join Oikawa slurping your first and rich orgasm.

They pushes your legs up and there are three long and thick tongues slurping and licking your tight pussy that still waves down thick juices. You find support by grabbing on the edges while you were being worshipped by their mouths. A squeal escapes your lips when you feel someone’s tongue poking your anusx.

When they finished, Oikawa pulls you near the edge and kneels in front of your head hanging by on the ends. He’s the first one to get fully naked before Sakusa and Bokuto.

“Kou~” your eyes waters, not in fear but in excitement and other unnamed feelings.

Sakusa goes below you, putting your small body on top of his own while slowly inserting his fat cockx in your tight pussy. You let out a yelp when his balls bumps on your opening. He’s deep inside you!

“Sakusa hnngggg~ sooo deeeppp haaahhh!” you grip his arm that locks your head beside his by putting it tight around your neck. You struggle to breathe properly so you gasp for air. His other hand goes to your stuffed cunt and slaps your folds harshly until he hears you sob and cry.

“Enough, Omi, she’s sore already.” Bokuto slaps Sakusa’s hand away and replaces it by his own, giving soft touches and light kisses.

“Hmm~ Kou... Kou... ” you cry his name, grabbing his hand toward your mouth. You kiss his fingertips and suck on them later. Earning soft moans and heavy breathes from him.

Bokuto takes his hand from your grasp and gives you slow and sensual kiss on your lips. You feel Sakusa inching his length out but you give no enough attention to it. What matters now is how Bokuto kisses your numb lips. He’s good and it feels good.

Your dear friend ends the kiss but not his finger work on your clitx. He’s rubbing it softly.

“My turn baby doll.” you almost forgot about him. Oikawa kisses you again and what he does next surprised you. He shoves his cockx in your mouth, all the way down to your throat. You gag at how big he is but you can’t do anything to remove it not now that he starts moving in and out.

Your moans gets dissolved by Oikawa’s rough fucking inside your mouth. He moans louder than you and his friends and you feel like doing the same so you cooperate with him, sucking him in while he fucks his length harder to your throat.

Down to the remaining men, Sakusa has been hammering your tight cunt with his massive cockx and swear! Your eyes widened when Bokuto positions his big cock head to where Sakusa’s fat one is inserted.

You put your free hand on his abdomen when he hovers over you, slowly joining his friend’s dick into party.

No, Koutaro! You’re gonna rip me with your cockx!

But he didn’t stop. He slides his fat member into your stretched core! Stretching it even wider with Sakusa’s!

Oikawa moans louder and louder and he even dirty talks while spurting his thick loads in your mouth. You gag on it and you do nothing but swallow it all.

When it’s your turn to moan and scream, you give all your best in doing it because fuck, it’s hurt having two fat and long shafts inside your cunt. So you moan and cry and then repeat while ramming themselves into you. Your body shakes and your lips quivers and they huffs and pants and slams their hips until you bleed thick and rich heat again, covering their cocks with your juice and their sperms.

Bokuto and Sakusa only pulls out when they empty all of their loads inside you.

It’s not over, Oikawa pulls you and folds you in mating press, inserting his hard cockx into your leaking hole, pumping faster while kissing your roughly again. He does it again. The rough and deep pumping. The rough kisses that leaves your lips swollen and numb.

“Tooruuu aahhnnggg~ hmmppp~” you shake your head, he’s using you so rough. You can feel the weight of every thrust and you wish for it to be over.

Again, it’s not over even after he cum inside you. He flips you on your stomach, pushing his cockx back inside you. He pounds you harder from behind, groping your chest before slapping your ass as he keeps pounding. You cry. And cry. And cry.

Three times. Oikawa cums inside you three times before handing you back to Sakusa who chooses to fuck you ass up, too.

“Not today, Omi. Her parents would notice. She comes home every weekends.” Bokuto advises his friend when Sakusa put his tip on your anusx.

Sakusa spits on his length and on your anusx, “okay, I won’t anal fuck her hmm~” he says but does it anyway.

He shoves right there! Sliding his full length inside your ass. You let out a loud cry and sob hard. Sakusa laughs. Oikawa, too. Bokuto attends to you and takes your both hands, drawing circles at the back of your hand he’s gripping tightly.

“Kou... Kou... it hurts, please, Kou... ” you cry while holding hands with your best friend.

Sakusa starts grinding his hips against your and that makes you feel the very pain of being analed. Bokuto didn’t leave you. He keeps holding your hand while Sakusa pounds you senselessly, almost adhering you deep against the softness of the couch.

“Ssshhh, baby~ you can take him~ you’ll feel good.” you focus on his words while endurimg Sakusa’s rough thrusts.

“Kou—” you were cut mid sentence. Sakusa pulls you away from Bokuto, flipping you on your back again to face him.

You can feel his loads dripping from your assholex but he’s not done yet. He separates your legs and dips between your thighs, pushing his shaft back.

You wince in pain when he slaps your swollen folds. You tell him it hurts with tears in your eyes but he just smiled. Slapping for the last time before rocking you again and this time, claiming your lips. He kisses expertly and you find yourself returning his kiss even though your lips hurts.

“Omi... ” you cry his name softly and that stuns him for seconds, watching your face contorts in beautiful pleasure. He sees something different in you in that state so he rocks you deep but slow this time, kissing your chin down to your neck and moments later, he’s shooting his loads inside you while still kissing you slowly.

Once again, that moment isn’t over yet, Bokuto takes you inside his arms and brings you in the backyard where there is a inflatable pool set up near the wooden fence.

The sun is up and so is his cockx.

He puts your nakedness in the cold water and slow fuck you there but bruising your whole body with his deep bites and tight grips. He pushes the hair strands that covers your face while ramming himself into you. He looks at you softly and he notices your puffy eyes from all the crying.

“You good, baby?” his voice is gentle so you smile, nodding your head until it slowly falls down backwards. You feel drained and you can’t keep with his deep rumblings while moving up and down on his lap.

He catches your head on time, eyes fluttering from being overworked.

“Kou, I like you. I lied when I say it’s Omi.” you confess before closing your eyes.

Bokuto does your job, he moves your ass up and down his length even though you fell asleep on him. As he shoots his loads inside, he says this, “but Omi found you first, Y/N. He’s afraid to tell you his feelings so he finds another way to get close to you. By bullying you, he gets closer and closer. I just jumped in the scene and befriended you. I like you, too, Y/N. But he likes you first. So, you are his.”

But, you didn’t hear it. You were too tired to fight against the need to sleep.

Two hours later...

You were in the backseat, straddling on Sakusa’s laps, his cockx installed inside your creaming cunt while holding you tight as he kisses your lips torridly.

On your way home,

Bokuto drives the car.

While Sakusa is fucking you mercilessly in the backseat.

With all the bruises and marks of ownership, there’s no doubt you are his.

You are Kiyoomi Sakusa’s property.

[tojikai]

Hello again Kai, sorry for popping out of nowhere but I just had to let this all out after thinking about chapter three for the 'nth time now.

Also, warning, a lot of cussing from me :')

Look, Rie, hun, we get that you feel a bit (more like a LOT) threatened and jealous by the fact that Satoru is putting a lot more attention and thought on Y/N instead of you but you do NOT have any fucking reason to just pop up like that after she woke up in a goddamn coma. She's already emotionally unstable (maybe also mentally, poor girl 🥺) and you just had to add more gas into the fire by saying that... All I can say is that you lost your fucking chance to redeem yourself (for me anyway, dunno about the others 👀)

Shoko already put you in your goddamn place and you had the fucking guts to waltz in like that when you know that Y/N is in a bad condition. I really do hope that Satoru drags you to your apartment and start a conversation about it (and maybe start a heated argument) because what you just did is unforgivable.

Bet that if Shoko finds out, she's going to bite your fucking head off while Suguru let's her do it.

Now let's talk about Gojo Fucking Satoru... Little warning, I'm gonna be a bit heartless here, ehe-

Satoru, you dumbass hoe, first of all... This is your fucking fault so don't start getting all emotional about it you piece of trash and shit. Yeah, I get the whole "I've changed" or "I can learn to change" but you just don't throw away a healthy and wonderful relationship for someone that you've been crushing on ever since you were in high school because, sometimes, it's just not fucking worth it no matter how that person fits your... Uh... Categories??? Anyway!

You and your new dumbass girlfriend are fucking stupid! Why would you go to a party and "flaunt" it to everyone, mostly in front of Y/N who is trying her best in recovering and accepting the heartbreak? Bet that you both fucking share dead brain cells, that's why you both got together, huh?

Yeah, fine, you're defending Rie's actions in the party and the other times when Suguru and Shoko were biting your head off but after what she just did/say when she woke up? Nah, you're going to my blacklist if you even TRY to fucking defend her so you better stop with your fucking bias or something because no "sweet and caring" person would ever say that to someone who fucking wokE UP IN A COMA (sorry, got angry there, ehe). And the fact that you were thinking of Y/N during sex means that you, too, are not over her and is still in love with her so cut the shit amd just come out clean, yeah? Cuz that will lighten up everyone's day but I hope that you and Y/N never come back together because you don't deserve anything after what you just did... Reason? You all can already guess why...

I hope that someone-ANYONE could give Y/N some comfort, reassurance, love and a shoulder to cry on because the poor soul is close to breaking and reaching her limit. She deserves a the whole universe after what fucking happened and is still happening, mostly for her to find someome that will really love and care for her.

I can list a few people that can give her comfort but I already have 2 people in mind:

Nanami Kento & Geto Suguru

I know that Nanami isn't present (or is just there but isn't saying anything) in the story but we all know that this man might (or, most likely, will) take a step forward and start biting the living daylights out of Satoru (Rie not so much but she'll also get her own head bitten off) because we already know that Nanami does NOT respect Satoru and now he won't even trust the motherfucker after what he just did to Y/N. I hope that he gets to give Y/N the love, comfort, reassurance and care that she definitely deserves like, for example, holding her to him while cradling her head to the crook of his neck as he let's her cry on him.

Suguru, we all know that this man right here has a soft spot for Y/N (but we need confirmation if he has a tiny crush on her so that we can say it for certain so we're waiting, Kai 👀 but take your time hun) and he has every rights to feel this pained and worried for her because she was his best friend's girlfriend... The fact that he and Shoko knew that she cut herself as they tried their best to help her just makes my heart ache. I think that when he finally loses control over himself, he wouldn't give a shit about hurting his best friend while he glares and seethes at Rie because, let's just admit it, these two are nothing but assholes. I can imagine Suguru talking softly to Y/N while he holds her in his arms with her head buried on his chest, hand rubbing her back and rocking the two of them back and forth.

And I think I'm done with the Ask, I'm so sorry if I'm spamming your Ask though but I just had to let it all out after giving these three chapters some thought 🥲.

Also, thank you again for this lovely chapter and can't wait for the next one but don't forget to take care of yourself first because your well being comes in first place while the other ones take the other place.

With love and care,

RJay

I HAD FUN READING THIS OMG your feelings for satoru and rie are radiating through my screen LMAOOO but i definitely get you !! and you're so right about yn trying so hard to recover and accept everything all on her own 🥺 i feel so sad when i think about it :(( and those scenarios with nanami and suguru got me smiling on my phone!!!!! like that's so cuteeeee😩🥺 anyways thank you so much for that, bb !! <33 i really appreciate that, and please do take care too~ i hope you're doing great !!

[rin-bellatrix]

Quackity's first instinct when Wilbur settled his glasses over his own face, was to lash out and sock the tall bastard in the mouth. Because an arch rival invading his personal space was reason enough for his defense mechanisms to kick in. But Wilbur immediately took a step back after making sure his pair of spectacles were placed correctly over the smaller man's face. Not a moment later, the glasses slid down the bridge of Quackity's nose and he instinctively pushed them back up to glare at their owner through the lenses.

"The fuck is this about?" The younger man mumbled, gesturing with a pointed hand to own his face, where the other man's eyewear was perched.

Wilbur stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the shorter man wearing the glasses that belonged to him. Taking in the imagery of a disgruntled but confused Quackity, wearing something of his, was something Wilbur wanted to remember for a long time.

But for now, he smiled as his ongoing silence in the wake of Quackity's question made the smaller male's eyebrows furrow in irritation. "I don't need them right now, I can see the sunrise just fine like this..."

Frowning even deeper in confusion, Quackity tilted his head as if doing so would somehow make older man's words make sense. "You must be on something, maybe ate too many shitty hamburgers from that disease ridden excuse of a food truck you got." Scoffing in amusement, he shook his head, lifting an arm to point to the east side of the map. "The sun is rising over there, you complete imbecile. God, even kids know that kind of basic shit."

But Wilbur kept his eyes solely on Quackity, watching him with something akin to amused affection. "No. No, ya see, that sunrise doesn't matter to me, because it's not the one I want. The one I want is right here," he confessed, reaching out to tuck some of the younger man's inky black hair away from his bespectacled face. "You're the one that I want, Big Q..."

The shorter male felt the hot blush burning his face, and the presence of Wilbur's glasses on his nose grew suddenly heavier, or at least the weight of them became more significant as he tried to calm the pounding of his heart. Struggling to find his voice under the intensity of Wilbur's stare, Quackity managed to fight off enough of his embarrassment to get out a broken "W- what are you saying man?"

The taller man smiled gently down at his frenemy, treasuring the sight of a stuttering yet stubborn Quackity whose blush rivaled the growing pink of the coming dawn. He took a step forward, and then another one, standing chest to chest with the smaller male, looking down at him as Quackity - who refused to back down - stared right back through his glasses.

"What I'm trying to say, you obtuse little duck, is that you are my sunrise," Wilbur whispered, as the daylight broke across the land and over the two friends who were sometimes enemies.

"That's- Well-" Quackity cleared his throat, trying his best to find his usual sass. The voice of reason in the back of his mind told him to back away from the clutches of this unstable and unpredictable man, but its volume was very low and almost mute in the face of what this was leading up to. "That's pretty fuckin gay," he chuckled, but the blush on his cheeks lessened the sting of his words.

"Yeah," Wilbur murmured, somehow coming even closer. "Yeah, it is. Kinda the point, since I'm gonna kiss you and all."

"Oh..."

"Yeah..."

Quackity could feel the frantic beating of his heart, his pulse thumping wildly in his throat as Wilbur tilted his head and leaned down. The tips of their noses brushed and the shorter man grumbled out a soft "Bastard..." before their lips met in a sweet and gentle kiss.

☆☆☆

I learned that wilby calls q his "sunrise" and I forgot how to act lol 🤪 Also I just wanted to see Quackity wear something of Wilbur's 🤷🏽‍♀️

©rin-bellatrix 2021

☆ main masterlist ⋆ dream smp masterlist ☆

[balmasedas]

desperado / druglord!javier peña au. 

chapter one.

summary: reader is a dea agent. violence has arisen in the streets of colombia and she's determined to bring javier peña to justice. things take an abrupt turn when, instead of her finding him, he finds her and realizes they got much more interest in each other than just drug-related topics. 

warnings: only +18. overall, this is smut so smutty. canon violence. detailed warnings in every chapter. spanish traductions are in the notes, though for the sake of non-spanish speakers, spanish dialogues will be minimal and not relevant to the plot.

word count: 2.5k.

You throw your sweater in the backseat of your car before exiting it. In the morning, you had dug through your boxed-up winter clothes after shivering in your shirt-sleeves as soon as you got out of your department. Now, the temperature has risen to the seventies and you give yourself a clap in the back for deciding to wear something decent underneath. Spring in Colombia is a nightmare.

The crime scene is packed with local police and DEA agents. There are no civilian spectators this time, they know better than sticking their noses in the Medellin's cartel businesses.

Upon your arrival, you don’t need to identify yourself to the uniformed men guarding the perimeter. They know you well by then. You are the only female in the team that has to deal with these kinds of situations —gruesome, gut-churning, dirty shit. Not a very much "lady-like" job, some would express. For that, you have earned yourself the title of a gritty woman. Maybe because you were gritty, maybe because you were a woman.

Sometimes, though, you find yourself wondering why you turned down some run-of-the-mill desk job back in Virginia. It would’ve been a dull routine, for sure — hideous, even; but gossiping about some flash romance between two co-workers is less taxing than having to witness five rotting corpses at first daylight. 

"Jesus Christ," you lift your sunglasses to your head. Your partner, esteemed, weary agent Steve Murphy, turns around at the sound of your voice. 

“You’re up early.” he asserts, with a raised eyebrow. 

You purse your lips. “Had a bad night. Ran out of whisky at one am.” 

Not even Hugo, or Hughie for his gringo friends, could help you. You forgot that his daughter would be celebrating her birthday and his all-night store would be closed until the next morning. Normally, you would own an arsenal of alcohol, but it has been an abnormal week and a hell of a night —starting with the spiral of violence that has arisen in the streets of Medellin.

"Well, look at the bright side: your stomach is empty," Murphy mumbles.

Looking at the bodies in front of you, you can’t agree more: their hands are tied-up to the oxidated wire behind them, hanging by their arms. They are barefoot and scantily clad. There is a visible gunshot wound in all of their front heads, some flies are already hovering around the open flesh. A quick death to eternal torture, you suppose.

"When did you get the call?" you inquire.

He fiddles with his wristwatch. "About two hours ago." you only hum in response, keeping your eyes in front of you and paying no mind to Steve who only grows impatient at your silence. "You think this was Peña's job?" he adds.

You nod in denial. "If it was, it doesn't make sense." Not one bit. "Peña works underground, quiet, like a sneaky rat. I'd even say they're more well-behaved than most cartels. So why do this?"

Why such a declaration of violence? Why draw even more attention from the authorities? 

"Maybe he decided to toughen his punishments?” You scoff at his remark.

“He can do that without half the city knowing it. A ditch is much more subtle than a monument to death blocks from the US embassy.” 

Murphy smirks. “Seems that you have given it a thought before, Sarchie.” you narrow your eyes. He knows you hate that nickname. Your tendencies to boss him around had brought you consequences: the unofficial title of a Sargeant. Sarchie, shortened and friendly.

“Killing someone? Yes, you. Multiple times a day.” you put your sunglasses back on and walk away. The forensic police won’t be there until the next half hour, at least, and you are too disquiet to wait around. Plus, your stomach is growling, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “We’re gonna need their names, I’ll see what I can find. You have a little chat with the coroner and see if they can speed up the autopsy. The sooner the better, ok?” you spot the smirk on his face. You know what he’s thinking. You shut your car's door and point a finger at him through the window. A clear warning sign in your eyes. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”

(,,,)

Happy hour. You give up on the investigation and stop off at ‘Chiquita’, a popular local bar near your place. The prices are cheap, the drinks aren’t that good but they do the job. The place is crowded — hot couples with wet, glowing skin grinding against each other. Happy or horny or both. You take a mental note to have some fun later. 

As you sip at your bourbon and crack your peanuts, you let yourself dwell on what you found out about your case. You finally got the names of your five guys. For that, much research wasn’t needed: All of them had their IDs in their pockets and they were exactly who you feared they were: no ones. No ties to any big names, no official involvement in any cartel — at the most, a few minor possession charges. As for weeks, your few clues have led to nowhere and the enigma surrounding the Medellin cartel seems to worsen with every minute that passes by.

You hate mysteries. Colombia’s full of them. 

You take your second bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. You grab a colombian peso from your wallet and slide it across the wood. Your eyes stop at the picture of your parents that you carry around. It’s tiny and worn, just like your relationship with them. They haven’t heard from you in weeks, a fair deal, if anyone asked. They don’t have to deal with their fucked up daughter and you can focus on your work filled with dead ends and a ghost that haunts you while you’re awake: Javier Peña.

“¹Qué tomas, preciosa?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. A pleasant smile breaks quietly over your lips. Just in time.

You turn your head to the side. The stranger, with chocolate-skin and inviting eyes, is waiting for an answer. You tap your fingers against the glass.

"Bourbon," you say. "²Pero no me vendría mal un trago más." he grins and holds up two fingers to the barman. He sits at the empty seat beside you, he’s exuberating confidence. He’s offered you the bait and you'd taken it.

"³Algo más que se te ofrezca?"

You look him in the eyes. You know how the story goes from there. It isn’t any different than the one from last night, or the night before. As an apex predator, he's out for something to satisfy his hunger. He won't go home without reaching his goal and you're desperate enough to let him.

"⁴Sí. Hay algo más que puedes hacer por mi."

(,,,)

The fucking cat on the window has been staring straight into your eyes for the last fifteen minutes. Matias, the guy you've met hours before, is too focused on you to notice the awkward presence of the animal, so you don't bother shooing it away. 

He's enjoying himself, pounding into you in a symphony of lust bites and moans. But the sound of skin on skin doesn't match the intensity of your passion for this encounter.

It's not that his performance was terrible, it was just... soft. So soft, too soft. From the sweet nothings, he gasps on your ear to the gentleness of his grip on your hip. 

You aren't a sweet girl. If you were sweet, you wouldn't have traveled all the way down to Colombia to participate in the war on drugs. If you were fond of delicateness, you would've stayed inside and touched yourself to a Cristina Peri Rossi novel instead of searching for strangers at bars.

You don't like to believe you are a special case. On the contrary, you assume your attitude is the rule and not the exception. Not a hell of a woman, but a woman made of hell – waking up already worried about the hours ahead of you. How could you not? Your life is as wide and empty as the sky. Unstable, unpredictable. Anything can happen. A good meaningless fuck is the only moment you allow yourself to feel something — someone. By then, the detachment that gets you through the day disappears and raw feral emotion takes its place. 

You are addicted. It's like a drug, but worse. Drugs don't have feelings, people do.

You’d grabbed Matias' hand and wrapped it around your neck a few times but your request had been ignored; you’d even pushed his ass against your body so you could get closer to a feral touch, but he had insisted on something more caring and delicate. 

And delicacy just won't do. 

So, after a few tries, you give up. You lay still, under his heating body, dead eyes directed at your window. No emotion whatsoever, no release. Like a numb, stiff sex doll, rooting for his satisfaction. Forgotten until next time.

“⁵Donde?” he blurts in your ear. You evaluate your options quickly. 

“⁶Adentro.” Any other place would demandsñ more attention. By then, he would be aware of your passivity and asking too many questions. You don't answer questions, you make them.

His body tenses and trembles. You feel heat dripping between your legs but it doesn't come from you. He leaves a few small pecks on your neck — thankfully, the last ones for the night. Matias breathes over you for a few seconds before he gets off. You stare at the roof in silence, and when he asks if you finished, you simply nod.

You can't grasp what he says under his breath after you ask him, as nice as possible, to leave. What he does or doesn't vocalize, it doesn't matter. You won't be repeating with him. You never fucked the same person twice. 

Once you hear the front door shut, still resting on your bare skin, you lit a cigarette. The room is void of artificial light, and the cat is still in the same place, with his silhouette contoured by the gleam of the moon.

"Sneaky bastard." you chuckle, then get up from the bed and slowly approach it.

You stop at the wooded frame of the window, maintaining your distance. Not too close to scare him or him to scare you. He isn't a friendly guy. He isn't even yours — just a grumpy cat that stops by your department too often demanding some food. You tried to get him to come inside before, but all you had won from your offers were a couple of scratches. Nonetheless, the cat has seen more of you than many people have. So, even though you renegade from him, you found yourself inevitably attached. He's the closest thing to a family, after Murphy, of course. But Murphy hasn't seen you on your worst, yet.

"Hope you see the same shit I see." you grimace and shake your head. "Not like that, I mean... I should choose better who to fuck with. And they should choose better too." the cat remains silent –obviously– and you keep talking. "You could make yourself useful and spook them away before I have to." he meows, you roll your eyes and decide to leave him alone. "Then again, I could do it myself if I told them I hold long conversations with the stray cat that lives in my window."

You choose to take a bath and call it a night. You glide through the living room, though before you can reach the bathroom something stops you. There's a noise outside, some glass breaking down on the streets. You can ignore it, conflict isn't a foreign subject in Colombia, especially at late hours. But then it repeats itself a second time, and the third bugs you too much for you not to grab your night robe and take a look at it from your window.

The only light pole is out of order; there's not a soul in sight; music can be heard from afar. You see nothing out of place until you do.

Your car is parked across the street. All four windows have been smashed, the tires are flat. You barely waste time cursing before you flee out of your place. You thought the night couldn’t get worse but the world has a disturbing obsession with testing your patience. 

Once you take a step outside and approach your damaged car, you’re not sure where your chills are coming from. Perhaps, because of the unfriendly weather or maybe because you’re suddenly aware of how idiotic was your decision to go outside. 

Everything inside your vehicle is left untouched. There weren't objects of value anyways. You find no logical reason for someone wanting to wreck a car just because —yours, of them all.

Big red warning signs color your mind. Your eyes scan your surroundings with speed. It's a dark, lonely dessert. You're now sure that what happened isn't some random event. The victim could've been to another person, but you weren't just another person.

"⁷Discúlpeme, señorita." a voice throws yourself far from the source. You reach for your gun just to find nothing there. Damn you. "⁸Está bien?" you look at the man. An old man that, at first glance, doesn't represent a threat. His voice is gentle, his voice is tinted with a caring voice. You lower your defenses, just a bit, not enough to stay around.

"⁹Sí." you mutter.

Slowly, you walk back to your apartment. Old man glues his eyes to your form and you don't take your own off from his'. Before reaching the sidewalk, you trip with something. Your back collides against a car and you're ready to apologize when the owner exits it there’s not a sign of rage in his face. On the contrary, his stare is blank and his mouth doesn’t even twitch.

Bad news.

You intend to run, but another guy blocks your passage and two more appear at each side of you. You turn over to ask the old man for help, but he’s gone along with your last piece of hope. Can’t blame him, you would’ve escaped too if you had the chance. However, you can’t and the smartest thing to do is acknowledge it and work from it. 

You stay still thinking it will persuade them to opt for gentle treatment. 

How naive of you. 

A set of fingers dig into your arms, another one grabs you by the neck and lowers your head as they drag you into their car. Guarded by two of them who sit at your sides, a dark cloth bag is placed over your head and your wrists are restricted with a zip tie. 

All you have left now is your hearing, you pick up a few things: the engine roaring, the tires burning on the asphalt as you speed off, some spanish words thrown in the air. Nothing substantial, nothing of use.

You sit in silence and wait for the worst.

[withoneheadlight]

life has been a bit crazy for me so I haven’t been around but I’m glad to see that the upside down kiss fic is circulating back around bc it lives rent free in my mind constantly and I am whORE KNEE 😩

nsfw! anon

(I hope you’ve seen well I miss u :((( )

NSFW!ANON I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU I MISS YOUUUUUU!!!!! Holy shit this is the nicest surprise!!!!!! 💖💖💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖 Wish your life were at least a bit less crazy :(. Mine's been a bit crazy too. Weird and busy. Haven't been letting me much time for fandom and i miss it so, SO FUCKING much. 

And <3<3<3, haha yep! i’ve got a soft spot for that fic too bc i had so much fun writing it, and it’s even funnier on my mind idk xD. i’m so happy people likes it. Those gifs are like a harringrove inspiration charm i swear! Maybe you’ve already seen it but @warheadache added this amazing ar to it and 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉.

also!! i know it doesn’t look like it but i’ve got a couple things for you on the works and i’m closer to finish them!! at my snail pace but yk, 

a few excerpts bc i want to give them to you so baaaaaadddDDDDDD:

(I'm sure you'll recognize the working titles :P)

| n s f w ahead |

~

| boots |

And it’s been more than three years. More than three years of holes on his body and holes on his veins and stitches and tubes and pills and pain under every scar and unsteady steps and pulling together a pile of dirty rubble. More than one of Steve, Steve, Steve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

Except―

He’s going through his old stuff, one day. Cold outside. Late January. Chill fogging the windows. Daylight pouring to the edges of the sky like red-hot steel on the other side.

Billy’s on the floor. The contents of the two plastic bags collecting dust at the bottom of his closet since he moved in here now scattered all around. Cassettes and crumpled papers and tampered books and stupid memorabilia and. His old tight jeans. His leather jackets. His light-blue denim one, with the blood-red goodbye kiss of somebody whose cheek he remembers touching, whose face he can’t remember anymore.

And Billy doesn’t hear him coming, but one moment he’s not, the next Steve’s crouching by his side, leaning against him, too lightly for it to be in need of balance.

“God, Hargrove” he huffs, picks Billy’s favorite shirt out of the pile “Am I remembering this one right?”

Billy bites in a smile. Swallows down some bitterness.

“You are”

Steve nods, mouth twisting into a grin, a brow rising. Glances down at what Billy’s holding (on to) between his hands.

“And oooh. Those boots”

Still dirty. More dark brownish than black. One of the few things he got back from the hospital. His pendant being the only one he ever put back on.

“Yeah”

“Thinking ‘bout using any of these again?” Steve gives the shirt a light shake, the dark-red fabric dragging on the wooden floor.

Last time Billy wore it, he burned hole in it. A stray ember fell from his joint, right under the left pocket. Tiny enough to pass mostly unseen but―

For a closer look, it was ruined.

Two days later, the Mind-Flyer dragged him into the basement of Brimborn Steel Works.

Billy digs his fingers into the dry leather before they can start shaking.

“I don’t―” Takes in a big gulp of air “―know. Don’t know if they’ll fit anymore” It feels like nothing.

Because, he doesn’t mean only his body. Means it all. Because he’s alivealivealive, like some kind of inevitability. Alive like a form of inertia.

Alive because that’s all he had left. Got’s left. The only thing he could. Can. Do.

But,

But

“Uhmm” Steve exhales. Looks right into his eyes and it feels like he’s looking deeper. And it’s not the first time, not the first time Billy wonders, how much he knows, and how he knows it. Wonders what he might be seeing, what his instinct might be saying for him to―lower down his voice, eat away almost every single one of the scarce millimeters keeping their mouths from touching “Maybe the boots, then” his hair tickling Billy as it falls over his forehead, the feeling of it so intimate it seems illicit “Only, the boots”.

And those words. Those words. Taste like gasoline on Billy’s mouth, make the flame almost catch. Hot. As they feel over the rabbiting pulse of his jugular. Ad there shouldn’t be any empty space left between them when Steve moves even closer, his lips brushing a path of raw tenderness over Billy’s cheek, trailing sideways, air turning flammable and unstable, unbreathable when he says, “You’d look―” Voice hoarse. Shaky. Breath warm down the curve of Billy’s neck. Fingertips burning as a branding mark over his solar plexus “Hot as fuck”

Trading a grenade for Billy’s fast-beating heart.

And then― he’s getting up. Going away. Closing the door behind him. Leaving Billy one pull away from the detonation.

And Billy.

It’s been more than year since he moved. More than a year of SteveSteveSteve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

But Billy wants it, this kind of inevitability. Not inertia. No survival. Not that something living doesn’t really feels like. He wants Steve to release that bomb he just dropped inside of his body. Left Billy unmade. Shape him back together with his own two hands.

So he gets up. Wired-up and breathless. Anticipation beading on the surface of his skin. Thinks about of all those times alive felt like something reachable. That almost-touch sensation. Static singing on his fingertips: loving arms closing around his ocean-cold skin. The rumbling of the sea caught up on the shell of his ribcage. Max's crazy laugh like a hammer to his bones. The Camaro cooking the soles of his feet, speed making his head spin through a wormhole and out into the infinite. His knuckles cracking against the skin of another, finding bone. The metallic tang of blood flooding down the back of his tongue.

Love and fire and rage and―

He takes all his clothes off. They don’t feel like they fit, either. Socks. Sweats. Hoodie. T-Shirt. Takes a deep breath when the pendant bumps against the naked skin of his chest.

Puts his boots on.

Does the only thing he’s ever known.

“Steve!” he shouts. Pulse spiking up fast. Trying to beat a way out of his body “Can you come back in here?”

Skyrocketing, when Steve shouts back.

“Going!”

And then is the door clicking open. Billy’s lungs freezing in the middle of a breath. Steve’s eyes looking almost black as they catch the shadows. Sun falling down the reality of the other side.

And in a darkness like that, it’s only them what remains. Them, and the way they are looking at each other.

And Billy feels alive. Like falling. Feet slippin’ on the razor’s edge.

"Billy" breathes out Steve. Shoulder perched on the frame. Fingers tightening around the handle "Fuck, Billy I―"

“Yeah?”

Alive. Like a form of gravity when―

Steve comes forward. To him. Careful. Careful. Footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. Lashes falling down as his eyes drift. Swallows. Comes closer and closer still.

And then.

Their chest are brushing and their hands are almost touching and it's not even an inch but Billy has to look up even with his stupid boots on and,

“You said―”

Steve breathes in. Cuts Billy’s breath off his lungs.

Between them, there’s no room for anything that’s not the way they’re not touching.

“I know what I said”

The air, sparks, sizzles, becomes the memory of a thunderstorm and. The tips of Steve’s fingers make his hairs stand on end. High voltage. Spark over the inside of his wrist. The faded blue of his veins. And Billy shivers. Feels like that second of stasis before the rupture. Static calm and then― the ocean breaks.

And then Steve says,

“I wanna see it. That fire in you” and his fingers tickle across the hidden tenderness on the inside Billy’s elbow. Nails grazing their way up to his shoulder, detouring to contour the crest of his clavicle, slide down the trough, spreading as they follow the shape of Billy’s neck, thumb fitting into the corner of his lips and “C’mon.” smiling, smiling. Eyes creasing at the sides, lashes catching the few last strings of light. Wicked and sweet and devastating “Show me who’s that Billy Hargrove everybody's been telling me so much about”

~

| stick | tw: object insertion |

It’s thrilling, this secret, depraved game they play. Feels like it's forbidden. Leaves a sweet, honey-thick aftertaste.

And Billy is so. So curious. Can’t stop asking Steve to tell him “How it feels babe. I want to know how good it feels. God you look like it's hitting you just right” and Steve tells him. Steve fucks himself down into whatever thing Billy is holding for him, never touching himself until he’s almost there, wanting to ride that sole sensation right up until the very end. Shivering. Shaking. Breaking a sweat. The words coming ragged out of his open mouth. “Cold” or “Weird” or “Like. Too much–ah. Too much” and “Soft, God, Billy so soft” and–

“Why don’t you try it yourself?”

And Billy its so, so curious.

Billy does.

Rails himself for Steve to watch, slicked up with lube and dripping. With a rolling pin. A cucumber. Almost a whole box of wooden colored pencils, stuffed inside his ass one by one. With “ohgodgodgod”  the handle of Steve’s fucking nailed bat. Lets Steve holds whatever thing he chooses for him “C’mon, babe. C’mon. Treat it good. Swallow it as deep as you can. Take it like you would take my cock”

And life in Hawkins gets boring after the first, second, fourth, seventh yearly round. Steve takes that office work. Billy gets a permanent spot in the garage. If he gets real lucky, somebody takes him an interesting car from time to time. But sometimes Steve looks at Billy with dark, liquid eyes. Says “Ok enough”. His voice harsh. Rasped. Losing balance at the edge of what he’s able to restrain himself. Sounding as if he’s jealous of those things jamming the insides if Billy’s ass. Takes out Billy’s been writhing around. Fucks him hard. Fuck him deep. Fucks him so good there are tears in Billy’s eyes by the time he comes. Fallen apart and sobbing.

&

Steve’s driving. One hand on the wheel. One hand on the shift. The cool air of the night coming in shorts through the rolled-down window. On the radio, Ted Nugent’s making his guitar whine, the strings arching into the touch of his fingertips, asking for more more more, ‘Here I come again now baby. Like a dog in heat’

Steve’s long fingers flex over the knob, winter-cold white under reddened knuckles. He shifts from third to fourth with a smooth press and lets go of the clutch, and the Camaro sighs, settles. Steve makes her calm. Steve tames her. Where Billy makes her growl and kick Steve drives her like a lover, whispers to her with all his body I’m gonna fuck you so slow. We got all night, baby. Steve treats her right. Runs those fingers up and down the metallic rod of the shift and Billy gets hard. One second from zero to sixty.

His cock pulses, pulses. Fills up whole. The sudden rush of heat traveling up, up. Presses against the walls of his throat. Billy wants to feel the head of Steve’s cock against his bell. Wants Steve to make him choke on him.

Steve brakes. Clutches. Reduces. The Camaro moans, needy. Steve soothes her, caresses it with a soft brush of his thumb along the speed patter Shh, baby sshhh. Just hold a little bit longer. I promise I will let you come.

Billy feels himself twitch, spit out precum. The inside of his pants feels damp, appetizing. He lets his hips slide, rock.

The knob is real leather. Silver pattern ingrained over black. Seams carefully sew out on the surface as a touch of style.

Billy replaced it a few months ago, the old one too damaged by use. Worn out.

This one curves slightly forward.

It would hit just right.

Steve's eyes are alight, framed in the light reflected from the rearview mirror, a dramatic take out of an old Noir.

Except the brown shines full color. Alive.

Billy puts his hand over Steve’s on the knob, spreads his fingers around his.

Grips him hard.

“Hey, babe. Have you ever thought about it?”

“Mmm? About what?”

“About riding my car”

Steve huffs. Chuckles.

“I am driving your car”

“Yeah” Billy caresses the side of Steve’s hand with his thumb, a lagged reflection of his gesture. Thinks about how pretty Steve’s lips would look around that leather, mouth open wide “Don’t mean it like that”

&

Billy has to take a deep, shaky breath, thinking it's a miracle they ever get as far as they plan, that Steve Harrington's mere existence doesn't make him come just by looking at him.

Not all their games get to the finish line. But this, God, Billy wants this one to.

"Ah-ah" he shakes his head, smirks, keeps the stakes high "But if you hop on I'll let you eat my mouth"

“Mmmm. I don’t know”

Steve twists his lips, considering, looks like he’s willing to take his sweet time deciding, staying just like this, idly rocking on his lap, keeping Billy hooked in this scarce feeling, this almost kissing between their cocks.

And Billy––Uff. Billy it’s too revved-up, can’t take it any fucking second more.

Grabs Steve’s asscheeks. Lifts him up.

“Billy what the—ohfuck” It doesn't go in. ‘Course it doesn’t. When Billy lets Steve’s weight drop just a slight bit. It bumps. Slips. Wet and obscene. Rips a breathless thing of a sound out of his throat. But then Steve’s arms wrap around his neck. Bracing himself so Billy can take a hold of it, line himself up. And then yeah yeah. He barely has to rub the head against Steve’s slippery hole and his cock slides in. Eaaasy. All the way. Into Steve’s warmth. Tight. Tight. Tight. And–

“Ohfuck. OhfuckOh”

The air coming in from the window is cool, bristling, but it feels like nothing when Steve lets out a chocked cry. Fucks himself. Fast. Rough. Face buried into the crook of Billy’s neck. Breath blooming hot, hot. Teeth on his pulse.

“Shhhh, baby, shhh” Billy takes his face between his hands, pushes him carefully backwards. Waits ‘till Steve’s eyes slowly find focus on his, still rocking, still― “Hey. You gotta stop. You hear me?” Steve takes a deep breath, exhales long and shaky. It takes all of him to slow down, Billy knows, but he does. Thighs twitching. Cock weeping. Smearing over Billy’s belly where his t-shit has hitched up.

Billy brushes his hair back from his forehead. Tangled and damp and gorgeous.

Kisses him light and sweet.

“We’re close, baby. We’re really, really close. But you gotta stop so I can open you up real good ok?”

Steve nods, eyes glossy, lips bitten and Billy feels overwhelmed, feels like burning under the hard sun. They’re both hanging by the thinnest of threads, Billy can feel it, can see it in the blown-out dark of Steve’s eyes. They’re riding pleasure at point break, time holding its breath for them. This is his favorite part of the game. A little too much, just a little too much. ‘Till one of them loses it. ‘Till one of them melts on the other’s hands. Hard and thick.

And God, Billy has never been one not to push his luck.

He takes two fingers up to Steve’s lips, runs the tips over the tender skin inside. Thinks about how they don’t look bitten enough, swollen enough. About how he’s gonna have to fix that.

“I’m gonna put these two inside. Will you get them ready for me?” Steve’s Smile twitches up, canines showing. It’s a two-men-con. But they play as much against the other as they play together. So Steve swallows both fingers. All the way in one go. Eyes falling shut. Eats them wet and messy. Deepthroats. Rumbles. Ass clenching, pulsing around Billy’s cock. And Billy is only a short breath of self-control away from spending himself inside him like a fucking rookie.

It’s boring, small-town life, really. Except–

“Good boy,” he says, making his fingers pop out of Steve’s mouth, satisfaction tastier than honey at the mean glare it grants him. But it softens, that glare, Steve’s eyelids flutter, open-mouthed and blissed, when Billy brushes the head of his cock with his knuckles, haft teasing, half relieving, keeping Steve in the tightrope with him.

“I’m getting a bit impatient in here, Hargrove” he says, only managing to make his voice sound half annoyed about it. Bit Billy is too, impatient. So drags his fingers down, pads tracing the taut shape of Steve’s cock, his balls, and down. Presses. Softly. Rubs the stretched-out flesh of his hole. Dips just the tips. Press. Press. And–

“AhfuckBilly–Ah.Mmmmh”

It’s tight. Steve’s ass clenches around him, squeezes him in. It’s a heady feeling, having him like this, senses overrunning. He’s intoxicated. High on the painful scratch of Steve’s nails when he grabs his jaw to kiss him open-mouthed and harsh. The helpless way he chokes off a sob when Billy makes his fingers curl, rubs him good and,

“I’m ready, Billy. I’m ready. BillyBillyplease. I can’t take it anymore. Please, baby. I’m ready” he’s gasping, breathless, barely taking in the heated up air they share.

“Hey. C’mon. C’mon. Just a little more, ok?. A little more and I’ll let you swallow it all in. That knob. All the way down your ass. No space left for anything else" he licks the words all along Steve’s neck, his ear. Rubs his lips over the damp roots of his hair. Cock pushing. Fingers working. When Steve sits on the stick. Billy wants him right over the edge “Gonna cum so hard you’re gonna be begging me to let you ride her again”

~

yup! hope you like them! i really really REALLY want to finish them for you.

Fingers crossed I get to see you again soon my dear nsfw!anon 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[insufferablelust]

Pretty little thing, (II)

Warnings : this series will be filled with Adult content, upcoming smut, murder, psychotic behaviors, dark kinks, traumatic events, manipulation, gaslighting, and isolation, interrogations, Daddy issues, abusive parents, blood, Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader.

This is a dark fic, there might be stuff that could trigger you so please read with caution and/or don’t read it if you are sensitive to the stuff in the warnings.

MASTERLIST.

——————

like i’m a flower,

that’ll rot at a speed of light,

like i’m a ripe peach,

that’ll bruise in the daylight.

——————

“Y/N Y/l/N put your hands on the air and hand us your weapon!”

Y/N’s brain thrummed against her skull, her lips quivered as she laughed loudly at the situation she was under, her hands up after she has tossed her gun and knife, turning around with knuckles all bloodied and face tear stained with angry red splotches— the sight truly psychotic.

“You’re making the biggest fucking mistake, Professor.” She chuckled, head tilting to the side at the gun cocking beside her head. Her eyes never leaving Spencer’s as Luke cuffed her scarred wrists behind her break and guided her outside of the house to the police car.

Spencer watched as she continued laughing from inside the car, her eyes never leaving his as his eyes stayed with hers. “She’s truly a narcissist huh?” He was blurred out of his thoughts by JJ’s voice beside him, His brain can’t seemed to let go of her voice chanting ‘mistake’ over and over inside his head.

“Spence?” JJ tapped his shoulder, jolting him from his mindless thoughts of a girl, the girl he arrested, the girl in the car, the girl who killed so many others, the girl who worked with cat, the girl— that looked innocent.

————

He stared at her through the window pane, he saw her bandaged knuckles, her head hung low and the wrist twisting around the cuffs. The more Spencer looked at her, the more he connected the dots, the more her remembered every foggy memories that surrounded her, every time cat mentioned her name before.

“Y/l/N isn’t dumb Spencie—“ Cat rolled her eyes, “She’s quite smart actually, when i’m dead she wouldn’t dare to betray me. do you know why?” She challenged, licking her lips in a cocky manner,

“Tell me.”

“Because i live inside her, every time she breathes it’s because i allow it— even after i’m dead, she’ll keep doing what she does best, killing our fathers.”

Our fathers,

Our fathers,

“Our fathers.” Spencer blurted out suddenly, alerting Emily who was about to stepped into the interrogation room. “What?”

“Our fathers, that’s what cat said when i visited her last to talk about Y/N.” He whispered the last part, still unable to connect all the dots. It’s like when it comes to Y/N, he freezes, he stopped breathing, his mind stopped thinking. Its like he had known her for so long— that she was someone special to him.

“Let me talk to her..” He pleaded, fingers gripping the door tightly— eyes begging Prentiss to just let him talk to her. “Spencer you’re—“

“Conflict of interest, yes but i— i know her better than anyone here okay, give me a chance. She trusted me more because she knows me.” Emily’s eyes switched between Spencer’s and Rossi’s, looking for the best decision. “You know the protocols, just get her to talk, if things get difficult in there i won’t hesitate to pull you out of this case.” She stated firmly giving the files over to Reid, which he thanked her for, before stepping into the room.

———

Y/N felt him before even seeing him, she felt the warmth of his presence before she even had the knowledge of touching him— his body heat. Yet, Y/N knew it was him, he’s here with her. She kept her head low, closing her eyes tightly as she felt the low rumble of his voice as he sat down on the opposite chair.

“Hello, Y/N.”

She smiled, the sound of her name— her real name rolling from his tongue brought her some peace and quiet. Stopping her raging mind from all the torture she endured. It was 5 seconds of heaven, she concluded.

“Y/N, I’m—“

She giggled before he even muttered a third word, she giggled loudly but her head kept hanging down, she could already paint his expression inside her mind— she had studied him in great details for years, she knew every twitch of his face without even looking at him, like it was imprinted deep in the core of her memory.

“Is there something funny?”

He used that tone, the tone that made her shivered whenever he uses them on class, when he had scolded her because she was late, when he corrected her because she ‘accidentally’ did all her homework wrong. The very same tone she adored, that made her nerves twitched and seared her core. So she shrugged, licking her lips as if he could see her.

“Y/N Y/l/N, born November 17th 1985, only daughter of Amethyst Ren who died giving birth to her, and William—“

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Her head snapped, looking at him with a sharp glare— a glare so sharp that it could cut through the glass. Spencer remained calm as he sees the way her fingers twitching together, and her skin on her wrist digging painfully against the cuffs.

“Be careful not to hurt yourself, as i was saying.. William Y/l/N who was a—“

“Fucking stop.” Her skin digs through the cuffs painfully as tears spilled out of her eyes— her tone was raging with anger.

Reid looked at her briefly before continuing with a straight face, trying so hard not to show any emotions, “A local businessman, apparently he raised Y/N—“

“You have a fucking death wish, Professor.” The blood dripped onto the interrogation table as the sharp cuffs nicked the skin, her legs bounced hard against the desk, a sign of agitation and pent up frustration.

“He raised Y/N dutifully and he—“

“He was an abusive fucking prick, who destroyed my life.” Y/N screamed loudly, her hand banging the table as Emily marched in to the room, trying to pull Spencer out, “Reid, out.” She said sternly but Spencer refused.

“He was a fucking coward, do you know what he did, professor? he broke me— damaged me into this this fucking monster” Y/N let out a sinister smile as she fought through the sobs, “My mother— my mother, he killed my mother. He killed her because do you know what men like him wants? what gets him off, professor? some young girl to torture,” She’s full on laughing now as she stopped the bounce on her knees and stilled completely,

“My mother was his precious girl, yet she’d grown too old so- so then he had me— and it was time for her to go.” She tilted her head to the side, “I was perfect for him, his personal punching bag..” Y/N closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and smiled sweetly at Spencer and Emily, “I never killed anyone, not once, i might be insane— might thought about killing, but there’s only one person i want to kill, and i haven’t gotten the chance yet.” She leaned in closer to Spencer as her waist bent over the table,

“I’m not Cat, Professor. I’m smarter than her, you know that. She thought she manipulated me, made me her personal clean up puppet. But, look at us now— she’s underground and i’m up here with her favorite man.” Y/N bit her lips, eyes pierced at Spencer’s “If you want to Arrest me, arrest me. But you know damn well, i’m just an innocent and beaten up daddy’s girl. My hands are clean.” She sat back down as her eyes flicked to Emily and smiles sweetly,

“I want a lawyer, please and thank you.”

————

“We’ve got enough evidence to arrest her, her fingerprints was all over Cat’s victims.” JJ voice rang through the room as the others kept on discussing about Y/N lawyering up,

“Yeah, but why is she lawyering up now? she knew about the evidence, she left them on purpose at the latest crime scene 2 years ago.” Rossi said, his eyes trailed over to Spencer who hasn’t said much after the interrogation room, eyes glued to her file and seemingly deep in thought.

“Right, it doesn’t make sense. She could’ve stayed hidden if she wanted to— she managed to do that all this time. Why expose herself to Spencer now?” Tara chimed in, head shaking at the puzzle thats in front of them, confusing each and every one of them. Whilst Spencer’s eyes blinked repeatedly as he remembered, the words that left Y/N’s lips,

“My hands are clean.”

“You know that, Professor.”

“Beaten up Daddy’s girl,”

“Daddy’s girl.”

“She never killed anyone.” The table went silent as he spoke up, his eyes darted to the picture of William on the board then back to his team,

“Spencer—“ JJ was about to cut him off before he murmured,

“The reason why she exposed herself now is because she found her ultimate target, the one she has been after all these years, she was right— she’s way too smart to fall into anyone’s game even Cat’s. I’ve seen her ability enough times to know how observant and smart she is combined with the fact that She has managed to stay hidden all these years when Cat was too unstable to see through my lies when i arrested her,

That’s why we never found any evidence except the fingerprints�� we profiled that this splatter of blood..” He pointed to the picture on the board and took a deep sigh “was an act of someone cleaning up, all of the murder site said the same things about her fingerprints— clean up.” He finishes, whispering the last word.

Spencer looked up to see his teammates all shocked, especially JJ who has her palm on top of his shoulder trying to say something but clearly couldn’t, then his eyes flicked to Emily as she stood and walked over to him,

“It’s not impossible.” She stated, leaning into the table as she used her palm to support her body, “Emily—“ It was Alvez this time whom raised the doubt,

“No i mean think about it, The blood, the way she stayed hidden and her sudden appearance, her behaviors— we profiled her as the exact epitome of Cat Adams but what if that was only her cover up. If she was truly a narcissistic psychopath she wouldn’t have the ego to deny any of the murders— she would be proud of it. What if, all these time we weren’t looking for a killer, but the misunderstood puppeteer?” Emily grabbed a photo of her and placed it on the table,

“Well then who’s her actual target?” Penelope bit her lip nervously as Spencer placed a photo of,

“William Y/L/N, her father.” Next to her’s.

“Garcia—“

“On it!”

————

Taglist and Requests are open! Message me or simply send in your asks!

( @drreidshands , @annestine , @addie5264 , @maybankslut , @lolitstiana , @imjusthereformggcontent )

upcoming updates : TAAHM VII, Blurb Requests!

[bittykimmy13]

Wounds (GT Angst)

This is a Shot in the Dark AU known at the “Dark Future AU”.

Fairies have been exposed to the world. Bounties have been placed on their capture. They’re not going down without a fight.

Characters belong to me and the lovely @marydublin5 / @little-miss-maggie​ , creator of the rad header image  <3

Warning: Blood

(( More Dark Future AU ))

A human in the safe house.

It was unheard of. The news spread through the halls like wildfire, accompanied by frantic questions of potential evacuation. If one human had found the haven, surely a mob of them would soon breach the glamour barrier and capture every last fairy.

That morning, Zia only heard about the rumors and chaos secondhand. If evacuation was necessary, it would have been underway by now, she assured herself. Though she was chilled at the thought of a human somewhere on the grounds, she continued tending to her patients and studying diligently to be prepared for whatever wounds were brought before her. 

During the past months, the healing ward had been so packed with the influx of arrivals that she scarcely found time to eat or sleep, let alone chase rumors. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of her role’s importance. Fairies showed up half-dead from their exhausting journeys, sometimes harboring injuries from humans.

Never had the world been such a hostile place for her kind.

“Saffron. Maeve.”

Zia looked up from her book, where she had been carefully studying an incantation for healing burns. 

It was Audrine who had spoken. She looked more vexed than usual as she entered the healing ward with three unfamiliar fairies in tow. They didn’t appear to be injured, but they had the wide eyes of new arrivals who were no strangers to suffering. Saffron and Maeve, the leaders of the ward, assigned nearby healers to their patients and hurried to Audrine. Zia tried to focus back on her spellbook, but she couldn’t help but overhear

“I’m sure by now you’ve heard about the human,” Audrine said, skipping the pleasantries. “Well, we have a bit of a situation. Which is to say, we have a clusterfuck of a situation. The human brought these three with him, claiming he wanted to get them somewhere safe.”

“It’s true,” murmured one of the new arrivals, whose face flushed when he was ignored.

“Naturally, we can’t let him leave. He knows where and how to find us.” Audrine cast a sour look at the three fairies, who must have led the human through the glamour barrier—their most reliable line of defense. “He put up no resistance to being taken to one of the south wing dormitories. We have our best guards—excluding myself, at the moment—watching him.”

Saffron, normally a picture of gentle composure, pushed himself in front of Maeve protectively. “What does this have to do with us?”

Audrine sighed. “He’s injured. And our new friends say he is worth being healed.”

“He saved us!” the same arrival blurted.

“He… he and his other human friend broke in to save some girl with a traitor mark,” said another, a young woman. “His friend was killed. The girl became unstable. She was an ice affinity. She froze the whole room and killed all the humans in it—all except for him. She told him to save us. S-she… she didn’t make it. Her own magic consumed her.”

By then, Zia was openly staring, along with everyone else in earshot.

“Please,” said the third arrival, who couldn’t have been older than seventeen. She looked to the lead healers, voice hitching. “You have to help him! He’s hurt so bad. All he did was wrap up his wounds. The blood’s showing. He doesn’t even seem to care that he’ll die.”

That finally seemed to make Saffron waver. He shared a look with Maeve, who bit her lip and said, “His injuries are that serious?”

“I’ll do it,” Zia said, the words flying out before she could stop them. When all eyes turned to her, she squared her shoulders. “Take me to him.”

Saffron shook his head. “Zia, we don’t know the danger this man poses.”

“All the more reason I should go,” she said. “You won’t let Maeve go alone, and she won’t let you go alone. And… if he is dangerous, the safe house can’t afford to lose both of you. I’ll go.”

“Excellent, glad it’s settled.” Audrine beckoned Zia to follow before there could be any protest. Nodding curtly at the lead healers, Audrine left behind the new arrivals and all but pushed Zia out of the healing ward. “She will be guarded. If the brute dares to lay a finger on her, that finger will be incinerated.”

Glowing orbs hung all around the safe house, pushing back the night’s darkness. Zia and Audrine flew through the foyer, past the enormous staircases, and crossed into a part of the building that had not been structured with fairy accommodations yet. It made sense to keep the human in the south wing, where fairies rarely wandered. However, Audrine did need to shoo off a group of teenagers who were trying to peek into the corridor to catch a glimpse of the human.

Most of the doors in the expansive hall were open. A group of five fairies hovered at attention in front of the last dormitory.

“Any issues?” Audrine questioned Emiko, one of the guards.

“He’s hardly budged,” he said.

“That’s as good a sign as any.” Audrine turned to Zia. “Are you ready?”

Zia squinted past the doorway. Something fearful fluttered in her stomach. There were hardly any lights in the room, but she could see a massive form sitting at the edge of a human-sized bed. She had the peculiar and frightening feeling of looking into a monster’s den. 

Humans had always been a threat, but the past months had proven they were more than that. They were apocalyptic. And she was about to put herself within reach of one.

He’s hurt.

“I’m ready,” Zia said in a small voice.

She entered the room flanked by Audrine and Emiko. The human raised his head as they approached. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that he was hunched forward, arms folded on his lap. A tingle ran along Zia’s skin as she sensed the injuries upon his body—puncture wounds that could have only been made with human weapons. Even a non-healer could have smelled the blood. It was a wonder he was still conscious.

The three of them came to a stop in front of the human. Dark as it was, he seemed to cast an even deeper shadow over them.

“What do you want?” His voice rumbled like thunder when he spoke, but Zia had a feeling he was barely muttering.

Audrine made a noise of contempt. “I want nothing more than to have you bleed out somewhere outside. The mess would be easier to clean up.”

“Fine by me.” The human grunted and started to rise.

Zia cried out involuntarily, covering her mouth too late to stop the noise. He was even bigger than she could have imagined. Audrine and Emiko immediately shouted incantations and ignited spells to their hands. The human looked between them with narrowed eyes before lowering himself back to the bed.

“Careful,” Audrine said. “If you frighten away your sweet little volunteer, I doubt you’ll be getting another.”

The human's overwhelmingly sharp green gaze settled on Zia. “Volunteer? Don’t tell me this is some kinda creepy sacrifice thing, ‘cause I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m a healer,” Zia said, wincing at how her voice cracked. She tried to compose herself and face him the way she would any other patient. “I’m here to help you. Can you point out what’s hurting the most—”

“No healers,” the human growled, leaning away from her like she was poison.

Zia stared, speechless. Considering the lengths humans had gone to abuse fairies for their magic, she hadn’t even considered that he would turn down the opportunity to be healed.

“Are you an idiot?” Audrine flitted closer in response to his retreat. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed the moment you stepped through the barrier! She’s offering to save you from a slow and painful death. Be grateful. That is, if humans have the capacity for it.”

The human tensed, and Zia’s eyes darted to his hands, certain that he would snatch Audrine out of the air to crush the life out of her. But he merely heaved a sigh and pressed his fingertips to his brows. 

“No healers,” he said with a note of pleading. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Audrine hissed, clenching her fists at her sides. “You do not tell me what to do, you overgrown, thankless—”

Zia cleared her throat. “Audrine?”

She rounded on Zia with a glare. “What?”

Fiddling with her fingers, Zia was somehow more nervous than when the human was looking at her. “You’re very good at a lot of things,” she said delicately. “But I don’t think this approach is working. Do you think… I could have some space with him? And more light?”

Emiko looked at Zia like she'd gone mad. “Leave you alone with him?”

“I’m not helpless. You can watch from the door if you like. Just some space, please.”

Crossing her arms, Audrine reluctantly pulled away from the human. “Stay sharp, Zia. He could lash out at any moment.”

“I won’t,” the human muttered.

“And if he continues to refuse your generosity, don’t bother with him.”

Zia nodded, though she had no intention of leaving the room until the human’s wounds were healed. Audrine and Emiko sent out more orbs to fill the room with light. As her view of the human was cleared of shadows, Zia felt the spike of intimidation drive deeper. She tried to see past his size and found her heart breaking for him. He looked positively wrung out. He had a handsome face, no doubt about it, but his expression was cold and empty.

As Audrine and Emiko gave her the space she requested, she couldn’t stop thinking about what the new arrivals had said about the human. When his eyes slid to her, however, she blanked for a few seconds.

“I’m Zia,” she managed, folding her hands in front of her.

“Cliff.” The response alone seemed to exhaust him. “Look, sweetheart, I appreciate it, but I already said no—”

“No healers. I know. But what about some company instead?”

“You don’t want to be here. I’m scaring the daylights outta you.”

“Says who?”

He looked her up and down, heaving a sigh like a gust of wind. “You think you’re fooling anyone? You’re shaking like a leaf. Just go.”

“I’ve never been this close to a human,” she said. “I can’t help but be a little… nervous.”

“You should be more than nervous. Healers have it especially rough out there.” His fists clenched on his lap. “You stay the fuck away from other humans, you hear me?”

Her breath caught. It was distressing to process that level of anguish on such a large face. “I heard what the new arrivals said,” she murmured. “I’m sorry about your friend. And… and the ice affinity girl.”

“They were my family,” he snapped, making her flinch. Her fright eased when he looked a little sorry for startling her. He blinked hard and swiped tears from his eyes before they could fall. “Sylv,” he rasped. “And J—” His voice choked off, mouth pulling into a tortured grimace as he doubled over on the bed and heaved a sob.

“Cliff?” She was surprised to feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes. Flying in tentatively, she reached out a shaking hand to touch his knuckle. She looked up and tried to catch his gaze. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could say.

He shuddered. “It should’ve been me.”

“It shouldn’t have been any of you!” Her own tears finally began to fall. Her voice wobbled, and she pressed on nonetheless. “But you’re here. And I want to help. Please, Cliff… Let me heal you.”

“Don’t you know what’s happening out there?” His voice rose, and he practically shook her off. “Fairies are being caged in iron until their magic is needed for study or whatever sick shit the researchers decide it should be used for. Healers like you are being forced to use their magic. If they don’t comply, they’re tortured. Hell, they’re tortured anyway. I’m not taking anything from you. Not one fucking drop of magic. Don't waste your generosity on a human.”

“You’re not taking,” she insisted, flying up closer to his face and persisting when he tried to turn away. “I’m giving. You saved some of our own, and we’re grateful. Please. Let me do this, and we’ll be even. The ice girl… Sylv. She used her magic to save you, didn’t she?”

His gaze snapped to her, and for a moment, she worried she had crossed a line that would awaken his true human nature. But sorrow flooded in.

He swallowed hard. “She told me… to save as many as I can.”

In that moment, she knew that she was not looking at an enemy, monster, prisoner, or whatever else Audrine and the others wanted to think he was. Maybe even he needed to be convinced that he was none of those things. Pursing her lips, she tried to look at his face and not at the bloodied bandages she so desperately wanted to pull away and heal. 

“We’re trying to save as many as we can, too,” she murmured. “Do you want to help?”

Their eyes met, and she did not flinch away as he studied her. Something shifted in his gaze. He gave a nod that was barely perceptible even at his size.

Zia inched toward a soaked red bandage on his upper arm. “Well, you can’t help us if you’re dead.” She started to tug, but it was wrapped too tightly for her to make any progress.

With a sigh, he unwrapped the wound and allowed himself to be healed.

[yurawiththegoodhair]

A Kiss Where It Doesn’t Hurt

Another day, another kiss! Thank you all so much for the response yesterday!  My goal is to write one a day, so I’ll be covered with some form of content for the next 48 days xD If you prefer to read on AO3 or ff.net, it’s posted there too! A note: none of these will be edited or beta’ed, I literally wrote this on my notes app while working a wedding last night. Story below the cut! 

“You should’ve listened to me,” she chided, running a cotton swab from her first aid kit over just one of the numerous cuts and bruises on his legs.

He winced at the sting, and she bit back a smile. Half-demon or not, he wasn’t immune to the biting pain of antiseptic on wounds.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that thing was so unstable?” he groused at his wife. 

“I’m not so sure it was ‘that thing’s’ fault,” she said, reaching back for more hydrogen peroxide. “And considering you insisted that we wait until the baby was asleep before you tried to ride the bike, you know, when it’s DARK outside, I’m not sure exactly what you expected.”

“She doesn’t need to see me making a fool of myself!”

“She’s a year old, Inuyasha!”

“Seeing your old man make an ass of himself can leave a lasting impression!”

Kagome rolled her eyes and sat back. “Oh, yes, letting your child see that you’re part human would be such a travesty.” 

“Glad you see it my way. And I can see just fine in the dark, thank you very much.”

“Clearly,” she drawled sarcastically, removing another piece of gravel from his shin.

So much about him had changed from the angry teenager she’d met nearly a decade before, but his moods were definitely not something that had. Thankfully, she was experienced in them now, and with experience came knowledge, and knowledge led to the ability to soothe. 

“Maybe next time we can have you try when it’s daylight out, yeah?” she tried to pacify, but he just crossed his arms and let out a huff of air, so she went back to her work. “I think it’s very cute you want to learn, so you can show her one day.”

He growled at her use of that word, though it had no real bite to it. Cute. He told her on at least a weekly basis he was nothing of the sort. 

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to ride a bike as a kid,” she said, while opening a bandage.

“Well, Sesshomaru wasn’t exactly the nurturing type,” he offered nonchalantly.

“Still isn’t,” she added with a shake of her head.

She was about to stick the bandaid to his skin, when he started fussing again. 

“Hey, stop that,” he said, batting her hands away. “Only thing actually wounded is my ego. These’ll be gone in an hour.”

A wily smile lit her face. “That’s too bad. I was going to kiss all your hurt better.”

His eyes grew large before an obviously fake pout marred his handsome features. “In that case, I hurt everywhere.”

“Mmm, is that so?” she asked, slinking up his body until their foreheads touched and she could feel his breath on her face. “What about places that don’t hurt that I could kiss instead, so I don’t accidentally injure you further?”

Inuyasha shrugged and held her gaze. “I can think of a couple of places.”

“Would this be one of them?” she breathed, before brushing her lips teasingly over his own, enjoying the tiny whimper he let out at the contact.

“It’s not the main one, but that’ll work, too.”

“You really are an ass,” she replied, and the grin he gave her made her heart skip a beat.

“But you love me anyway,” he said smugly.

“That’s debatable,” she said with an unladylike snort. 

He had the grace to look mildly offended before she giggled at him and eagerly closed the space between their lips.

She couldn’t help but melt against him while he worked her mouth, placing both hands on either side of her face to bring her as close as he could. He was such a rough man, all hard edges and scowls, but when he kissed her like this, he was so soft, it made her knees weak. And when she felt him give a gentle pull to her bottom lip, a move he knew would guarantee him entrance, she was lost.

He’d just delved into her lips, when reality came crashing in with a sad and pitiful whine of ‘papa’ coming through the baby monitor next to them.

Kagome paused, instinctually turning her head towards the sound, but Inuyasha pulled her attention back with a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Ignore it, she’ll go back to sleep,” he urged, just before an even more insistent cry of his name came from their daughter. One that could be heard without the monitor. 

His ears flattened against his head. “Guess that’s my cue,” he sighed, still not moving away from his wife.

“She probably knows about the bike. Wants to make sure you’re ok,” she joked, and was rewarded with a playful shove.

“Fuck off,” he laughed, as he reluctantly extracted himself from her hold, and moved down the hallway.

“Hey,” she called after him, and he stopped just outside the nursery door. “Let’s try it again tomorrow ok?”

She was rewarded with a half smile and a nod before he disappeared into their daughter’s room.

[wordcubed-writes]

My BNHA villain OCs: Inko’s sidekick

Apparently by “tomorrow” I meant a week later, and by two OCs I meant "four, but each gets a separate post because jeeeezus this’d be too long otherwise”.

Inko has her own journey in Libra, going from homeless single mom to respected villain. Due to how the timeline works out, I needed to create some OCs for her to interact with, since none of the other canon characters’ histories line up with AU!Inko’s in the way I needed them to.

Also, the point of Inko’s character is that she can’t survive on her own. She’s a villain, yes, she breaks the law, and as she grows into her role she even knowingly hurts people. But she’s unusual among villains in that she doesn’t pretend to be strong by herself—her real strength is in the many connections she makes. Inko becomes the surrogate mom to a generation of young villains. A key part of her story is found family.

Hence her organization’s name: the Underground Family.

Today’s character: Kangen Kutsurogi

You can tell this one's important because she has a proper name!

Kangen's role: Inko needed a companion, someone she can interact with through her journey. I wanted them to be younger than her, so Inko is still definitely The Adult in the relationship, but old enough to babysit Izuku, old enough to spend money without raising too many questions, old enough to have political opinions, and old enough to know how to bullshit their way through some things.

(Fun fact: this role was originally going to be Dabi's, but he’s just too young at this point—11 at most—to credibly do some of the things I’d need his character to do. Don’t worry, he still joins Inko's family, just at a later date.)

I also wanted someone to provide an alternative kind of character development. Inko is already a mother, already carrying responsibility, already intensely compromised, and her character growth is about things more grounded than destiny and bigger than personal vengeance. Kangen, however, wants more shonen-esque things: she wants to solve mysteries, she wants to make herself into something.

And boy howdy, does Kangen have a mystery to solve. Because her Quirk isn't hers. And, possibly, neither is her name. This is BNHA, you can probably guess how she has a Quirk that isn’t hers...

Kangen wants to solve the mystery of herself, Inko wants to take care of the people she cares about. All For One can either be the antagonist in Kangen's personal story or he can be the monster who generously tolerates the small fry swimming around him. He cannot be both. Kangen's story is that she must learn to temper her wants and grow around her own scars—like Inko already is.

If Kangen pursues the things she thinks she wants, she'll destroy the things she actually values. (Sometimes, you have to let go of your personal dream narrative to realize the one you've actually been living this whole time.)

Kangen's Quirk: Nonthreatening.

Kangen's Quirk prevents anyone from seeing her as a threat. No matter how hostile or violent Kangen acts towards someone, she can never provoke them. They will never panic, get angry, or get stressed about her. Confrontations become friendly chats and deadly fights become laid-back play-fights.

Nonthreatening allows Kangen to challenge people who are normally very dangerous and walk away without few-to-no repercussions. She’s also used it to steal stuff right in front of the owner's eyes. (At most, they'll sigh exasperatedly and get around to filing an insurance claim. Chasing her or calling the police would mean they’re worried or angry, and that’s not possible with her.) Or brazenly assault people in broad daylight and walk away without anyone trying to stop her. (It is not a stealth Quirk; people can see and remember her normally, they just can't be fucked to pursue/confront her while she's present.)

The exact mechanics of Kangen's Quirk are the mystery, though. Is it an always-on field affecting everyone around her? Can it be suppressed with concentration? Or is it the reverse, and takes work to keep activated? Is she the sole focus, or can she prevent anyone from provoking anybody? Does it work on robots? Can a recording of her have the same effect?

The little answers are ever-changing. The big answer is that her Quirk is very, very old: one of the first-generation Quirks from 200 years ago. Its original user was taken by the government, and used in “Project Kangen”, a series of experiments in "pacifying" large crowds, or potentially even entire populations. Her Quirk is (sometimes) strong because it's actually many Quirks—one of the first amalgamate Quirks forged by All For One—but it's unstable because, well, he was pretty young himself back then, and not nearly as skilled with his own Quirk as he is now.

And Kangen Kutsurogi’s name? Given to whoever the Quirk subject of Project Kangen is.

Kangen's name: It's literally the Japanese phrase "kangen", which according to at least one Japanese dictionary means "leniency and severity", making her name ~meaningful~ by Horikoshi standards. Kutsurogi means something like "comfort" or "relaxing".

Her villain name is Peacemaker, and yes she is going to carry a Colt Peacemaker revolver, because irony.

Kangen's backstory: The desirability of certain Quirks means human trafficking is a big problem in this AU, and Kangen got shuffled all over the place as villain groups tried to use her Quirk for various purposes (anything from petty crime in broad daylight to negotiation to infiltration).

Eventually, All For One decides that the Project Kangen Quirk is his creation and therefore belongs in Japan, kidnapping her. Then, not having much use for her (AFO has far more potent telepathy Quirks under his command) he put her where he dumps all the Quirks he collects but doesn’t use.

That is, he gave her to the actual designated antagonist of my villain!Inko fic: a cult leader villain who worships All For One (and doesn’t realize he’s merely caretaker to All For One's human collection of salvaged Quirks). Kangen’s job there was mostly to suppress the more violent Quirk-users and help raise the younger kids.

In addition to highlighting the uglier side of Quirk society, Kangen also parallels Eri: used by villains for her Quirk, but escapes and runs into a genuinely good person (Inko). It sets up the conflict between AFO's cult and Inko's family in Libra, and (SPOILER) later, in Let the Heavens Fall, the conflict between Overhaul and Inko (who let me tell you is SUPER PISSED that this upstart new villain's first major step is "torturing a child for her Quirk").

[lovebitesimagines]

Flames

Requested by @2heures

For a request where Thomas constantly is looking out for the reader because the reader prefers to go out and deal with rough/dangerous business by (herself) . Maybe sometimes she does need a little help. Thanks :)

I am so sorry that this is up later than expected! I may well re-do this idea at a later date, as I'm not sure if I'm 100% happy with how I've done this. I had so many ideas, I struggled to get one cohesive idea straight haha. I do hope you enjoy it, and I hope I've done this idea justice. 

Masterlist.

Tag list: @2heures @biba3434

Wanna be on the tag list, for any series? Lemme know!

Warnings: Fire, violence.

You’re head strong, and prefer doing business yourself. But sometimes, things don’t always go to plan.

It went without saying, that your marriage to Tommy Shelby, came with its fair share of excitement. Although, an outsider would be more likely to label your marriage as ‘dangerous’ ‘unstable’. You thought that was bullshit.

Yes, you knew what your husband was. You had been friends for a while, before your relationship had blossomed into something more. It was something that neither of you had seen coming, yet it had happened as quickly as a racing car and neither of you wanted to put the brakes on. You worked well together, the other half of you that neither of you realised was missing. You balanced each other out well, complementing the different quirks of your personalities. The Shelby family had welcomed you with open arms, relieved that Tommy had found someone who had settled so well into the family dynamic.

Yet you would be lying to yourself if you said you were never worried about Tommy. You had spent countless nights lying awake in your bed, watching the darkness slowly disappear into daylight, waiting for him to arrive home safe. When he did, you would feel relief wash over you as if you wore stood under a torrent of water, as you returned into his embrace, showing him with a million ‘I miss you’ kisses. But on those odd occasions, when he didn’t return home until the next day- or worse, the day after that- you would be restless with worry, unable to sit still or sleep. Your mind would be running wild, a concoction of dark thoughts and pictures appearing every time you closed your eyes.

You had taken it into your own hands, on more than one occasion, to face the danger your husband did. You knew how to handle a gun, how to fight and how to negotiate. Your way with words, and talent with your fists, was one of the things that made Tommy fall for you. Yet, your stubbornness and overwhelming desire to protect those you loved, did lead you to make rash decision, and go blindly into situations without assessing the danger first. This was often met with loud voices, and altercations. Tommy despised it when you did this, yet you loathed him walking head first into these situations. These differences in opinions often led to heated arguments between you both.

He hated it when you tried to deal with the rough side of business alone, so often you had to sneak behind his back to do so, although Tommy always found out. You knew the business inside out, including the people that Tommy associated himself with. You knew how to wrap them around your little finger, make them feel like they were safe, and then get them where it hurts. The Peaky Blinders adored that about you. All of them except one.

Tommy.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, sat across the table from Darby Sabini. His greasy black hair made your skin crawl, his pencil thin moustache twitching slightly as he glared across the table at you. A single oil lamp was lit in between you both, the dust that floated around the room highlighted by the flame. You ignored his henchmen, who stood behind him, arms folded, and frowns etched upon their faces. It was adorable, you thought, their pathetic attempts at seeming threatening.

“I must say, I was surprised when you asked to meet me Mrs. Shelby” Sabini drawled, leaning back in his chair. The aura of confidence that shrouded him, caused a sick feeling to bubble in the pit of your stomach. You hated men like him with a passion. He pulled up the cuffs on his shirt, before continuing to talk. “Usually it’s the man that does the business see”.

“You obviously haven’t researched your enemies that well, Mr. Sabini” you let his name tumble out of your mouth as if it was poison, not wanting to keep it behind your lips any longer. You mimicked his leaning back in the chair, wanting him to get the impression that this was a relaxed situation. It was nothing but. He couldn’t see the gun that was hidden in a holder, wrapped around your thigh, under your dress.

“That’s what you think, Mrs. Shelby” Sabini drawled, his voice sending uncomfortable shivers down your spine. He leant forward, his eyes glaring into yours, not even blinking. His henchmen took a step forward, and suddenly the atmosphere changed. A chill crept around the room, and you instantly knew that something bad was going to happen. Sabini pulled out a gun from his pocket, pointing it at you. “You think that I don’t know you?”

“You know nothing about me” you whispered, not breaking the eye contact that you both maintained.

“Oh I know everything about you, (Y/N). I know that you think you’re better than me. Smarter than me” his voice rose as he spoke, he stood up slowly and made his way over to you, the gun pressed to your forehead. The metal was harshly cold against your skin, your heart stopping in your throat. You had massively underestimated this man, and now you knew you would pay for it. “I suggest you stay still Mrs. Shelby, or this will hurt a lot more”.

His henchmen made their way towards you, pulling rope from their back pockets. It was soon tied tightly around your wrists and your legs, cutting into your skin. Panic spun in your stomach, as you tried to push the anxiety down. How did everything go so wrong, so quickly?

“Why did you call this meeting exactly, Mrs. Shelby?” Selbini growled in your ear, pressing the gun harder onto your forehead. You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly. “You think you have any place in mens’ business?”.

The gun pressed harder into your skin.

“I like meeting my husbands potential business partners. See if they’re worth risking everything for” you retorted, hoping your voice didn’t break and give away the fact that you were incredibly nervous. You knew your confident front was slipping, it had in fact been doing so since the chilling pressure of the gun was pushed against your forehead. Selbini laughed cruelly, before walking away. His henchmen were walking around the room, pouring a liquid substance all over the floor. It took a few, brief moments before the smell hit your nose.

Petrol.

Panic.

“We’re going to leave you here to burn Mrs. Shelby. Just like you fucking Peaky Blinders let everyone else fucking burn” he snarled, turning to face her briefly as he stood in the doorway. “I wish it didn’t come to this”.

He drew a match against the door frame, dropping it to the floor. The floor ignited instantly, the trail of petrol bursting into flames. The room was illuminated by the threatening orange glow.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

You were trapped.

Flames began to lap at the walls around you, like a hungry kitten in search for milk. It cruelly cackled at you, taunting you, making you aware of your fate. Thick clouds of black smoke masked your vision and choked your lungs. You desperately pulled at the rope which bit into your skin.

It was hopeless. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t breathe. Time was passing by too quickly, and any chance you had of escaping the fiery furnace was slowly becoming non-existent.

You began to slip in and out of consciousness, overcome by the smoke which took residence in your lungs. You were unaware of how long you had spent in the room. Ten minutes perhaps?

Your vision slowly began to fade, your eyelids gradually shutting closed. You felt yourself getting lifted up, and heard panicked, angry voices fill your mind.

Blackness.

You awoke to sunlight bathing your skin, the arms you felt still tightly wrapped around you, the sensation familiar and comforting. You blinked several times, adjusting yourself to the uncomfortable glare of the sun rays. Your body ached, as if you had been run over. Your lungs stung, smoke still remaining. You pushed yourself up, violent coughs forcing their way out of you, each one feeling like a punch to your chest.

“(Y/N)!” you heard a familiar sounding voice whisper from behind you, their voice choked with uncharacteristic tears and worry. You would know that voice from anywhere. You turned to face them, your vision still slightly hazy.

Tommy.

His arms tightened around you, as you brought your hand up to caress his cheek, his skin smooth under your touch. The dampness of his tears gently tickled against your fingers, your heart sinking at the sensation.

“I thought I lost you” he whispered, his eyes closing at his confession. “Seeing the building up in flames, I-I-“

“How did you know I was in there?” you asked, your voice croaky.

“Do you really think you step out of the door, without some form of protection?” his fingers ran through your hair, his eyes searching yours. “I’ve always got you”.

“I love you Thomas Michael Shelby” you whispered, pressing your lips gently against his.

And you knew, that you would always have him.

[codenamesazanka]

What are your feelings on Shigaraki getting a redemption? From your post comparing Gaara and Shiggy, I got the feeling you didn't care for Gaara becoming a good guy. Personally I would love for Shiggy to have a redemption arc!

Nah, I actually absolutely loved Gaara’s redemption arc!

tl;dr: Gaara’s redemption was done super well in my opinion. & I have no opinion on redemption for Shigaraki’s character, I’m waiting to see what happens! I wouldn’t mind it, should a few conditions be fulfilled. But I also don’t mind him not being redeemed. (Does he deserve to be? Sure.)

(Super, super long post because I love Gaara and I wasn’t smart enough to write meta about him when I was in the Naruto fandom so this is my 14-year-old self breaking out to do what was never but should’ve been done.)

I loved him being a homicidal 12-year-old, and I also I loved him having turned into the 15-year-old ninja leader who re-discovered love and bonded with his siblings (the sand sibs!!! I love them).

I love this brat and his post-goth self

What I hated was this guy:

Who the fuck is this. Who the fuck. Who the f—

So here’s the thing about Gaara!

He was literally created to be a monster, manipulated by his father into being one, on top of having a literal demon inside of him that would break his mind and take over. One can see how it led to him being the murderous, unstable 12-year-old he was. Yet.

A lot of the bad guy stuff he did was also by his choice. His father wanted a weapon; Gaara became something worse, one that became too much to handle; gone horribly right. He killed for pleasure, he threatened his siblings, he almost crippled an important side character because he could, he released the demon on purpose, outside of orders.

Gaara was traumatized by his upbringing and influenced by how others judged him; but he also eventually arrived at his philosophy by himself. The influencing words for him were “love only yourself and fight only for yourself [because no one else will, monster]” and he took that to heart. Then he turned it into “I exist to kill all humans other than myself, so for long as there are people for me to kill, I will not cease to exist; I will feel alive.” Damn.

I totally get it. His own father tried to kill him, again and again. Sent assassins after him. There was no one he could trust, and the only comfort came from relying on the demon inside of him, and killing others to feel alive. But—

From the way he interacted with others, he knew what he did was wrong. Not the self defending himself from assassins; but things like killing people who surrendered or treating his siblings like shit. There were a lot of fanfic that blamed all his monstrous acts on the demon inside of him, or like an insanity defense; but I never thought so. He had moments of demon possession, but for the most part, he retained his self, he reasoned, he made choices. If I wrote meta back then, man…

It was why when Gaara turned good, it was solely on questioning himself and reframing his perspective, and not like, extracting the demon from him. He reflected on himself, he reconsidered everything he thought, he listened to another person’s philosophy, and here’s the most important part: he made the choice to change.

Because when faced with that moment, it wasn’t because he was arrested or told a secret that changed everything or it was revealed he was actually loved all along or freed from external manipulations. He could’ve gone back to his old ways. He was still in the same situation as before; the only thing that changed were the choices he could make despite everything. So, quite immediately, he apologized to his siblings.

And so began the long process of atonement. He went back and saved the guy he almost crippled, he opened his heart and reached out to his siblings, he decided to become ninja leader despite the poor, poor relations between him and the village (which yeah, started because they treated him as a monster, but then he started killing for pleasure…). He worked hard.

That was a redemption story I really liked. It’s true that Gaara had a terrible childhood and a good reason for turning out the way he did; but eventually, there came a point where he couldn’t blame his actions on that. He was understandable, but not forgivable - yet. There were choices made on purpose, connections rejected out of hatred, and blood on his hands. I think ‘redemption’ is all about coming to that choice on your own, owning up to that and working to correct those wrongs - even if it’s impossible, even if it’s never ending.

Gaara’s story is really much like Shigaraki’s. I wouldn’t be surprised if Horikoshi was influenced by the character! Prototype Sazanka had his name written out as: 沙惨禍. “Sand Calamity”. Hehe.

But yeah, Gaara started out as a creepy character that showed up antagonistic and began murdering people outside of what was allowed in ninja society. He showed no mercy, he told his siblings he never thought of them as family, he tried to kill an unconscious hospital patient. Pretty unsympathetic except for very, very subtle hints; until bam! Backstory. Yeah, it made you want something better for him!

It was a matter of how.

*

I have no opinion on redemption for Shigaraki’s character. I’m waiting to see what happens. I would like it!

If! Shigaraki reaches that conclusion by himself. Not him realizing he was so manipulated by AFO none of his own actions were actually his actions. Not him being ‘unbrainwashed’, if that even was a thing. Not a secret revealed to him that changes everything, wow, if only I knew this, I would not have become a terrorist… Not him getting captured and All Might begging the courts to be lenient on him and dragging him kicking and screaming to rehabilitation.

I really like Shigaraki! What made him fun was that he’s a willful brat. “Before we leave, let’s kill a kid!”. “This asshole stabbed me so I’m releasing bioweapons onto the city.” “I’m going to hold this boy hostage in broad daylight and discuss morality.” He delighted in destruction, he looked for ways to hurt people most. All his chosen actions.

Does he deserve to be ‘redeemed’/recover/be allowed to atone for his actions/given the chance to change? Sure!

It’s just, Shigaraki’s gotta make that decision on his own.

*

One thing about Gaara’s redemption is that, yeah, he was ‘saved’ by the main character, Naruto. Talk-no-Jutsu, I think that was called, the main character’s habit of changing someone’s life/morality/philosophy/sinful ways simply by telling them his feelings.

But it made sense. Naruto and Gaara were proper foils. Both have demons inside of them, both were shunned by the village, both struggle with feelings of loneliness and hatred and finding a reason to live. Sure, Gaara had it worse since he was targeted for assassination; but Naruto related Gaara’s pain at a basic level. And Gaara recognized it too.

They understood each other, that they were mirror versions of each other, that they very well could’ve ended up like the other, the difference between them that one had someone who cared about him, and one didn’t. Naruto showed Gaara a different way to live - but he didn’t force it. Naruto simply told Gaara he empathizes with him, but if Gaara tries to hurt his friends, he’ll kill him. It’s thanks to Naruto, but Gaara realized his path to redemption on his own.

So excuse my lost of control here, but what the fuck kind of foil is between Deku and Shigaraki??? Deku getting Shigaraki redeemed is, currently, laughable.

One is quirkless and got bullied (I maintain my position that these things are overemphasized and made worse than it was by the fandom), but had a loving home and grew up as a normal kid…

for Shigaraki, being at home made him anxious, then he gets a truly dangerous, frightening quirk, and then he’s raised to be a a weapon by Japan’s Number One Villain.

Why are there so many AU fics of Deku having a deadly quirk? Or made him be so relentlessly bullied? Or kidnapped by Villains and forced to work for them? Overall, fics that make his situation/backstory worse? It’s cuz he’s boring. All these stories is just taking Shigaraki’s past and giving it to Deku to make him more ‘badass’ and then have the audacity to write Shigaraki as a dumb tamper-tantrum-throwing manchild. Don’t get me wrong, I actually love reading these fics cuz I’m a sucker for AUs, but honestly.

Talk-no-jutsu isn’t gonna work here.

Still! Should Horikoshi go for redemption, I wouldn’t mind! I just need to see exactly how he handles it. If he screws it up, I will also never forgive him.