#i am so unbelievably over being fucking alive what is the point of fucking anything

[jasonntodd]

.

[revvetha]

I rly don't know what to do with my life at this point, everything is so stagnant. I am so unbelievably uncomfortable everywhere all the time. I hate the clothes I wear, and at nearly 30 I still keep thinking some day a switch will flip and then I will finally start dressing how I want and feel that I deserve it. More than anything I hate every inch of my flat, it's not a home and I'm never comfortable there. I know I literally will never be happy or able to rest and heal while I'm renting. This space isn't mine, to the point where touching its walls and floors and my own furniture actively disgusts me.

I used to be so so smart and now my mind has just stopped working. I've basically stopped writing my PhD and I no longer care about it. Those five years were utterly pointless. And now I cannot engage with any new knowledge or information whatsoever, anything new freaks me out and my brain completely blocks it. I can barely think about anything at all. All I can do is relisten over and over to podcasts I already know. I need a change, but I know change will not be possible while I live in a place I despise. I need to move out, but even though I could afford it easily there is just no place to go. And on top of that I don't even know if I want to stay in this city or even in this country. How on Earth do you decide where to live for the rest of your life? God, the thought of settling down and staying in the same place for a whole decade or even longer freaks me the fuck out. Especially alone. The only thing I would have been happy to actually dedicate my life to is no longer possible, and even a year later I still haven't managed to accept that in the slightest. I have no idea how to stop chasing after what I know to be a pipe dream. So I don't know if I just need a reset in a new country or something. My life is going nowhere and I don't know what to do, all I know is that I'm miserable and uncomfortable and terrified all the time and have been for well over a year.

The fact that I don't get a second try at this life is fucking kiling me. Everything I want to do, I have to do while I'm alive right now currently. Genuinely how is a human being supposed to live with that

[goremet-chef]

trying to keep my emotions in check is so fucking hard man. like the pain i feel is so intense and real, but i also know i feel it for nothing. AND YET when i acknowledge this, the pain persists anyways!! never reassured properly cuz i can never see to kill the little voice in my head whispering "what if they do though? what if its true?" its so. frustrating its so PAINFUL this shit is slowly killing me man

its like. im scared to be caught in it if it IS true, to the point where ill just. back up and straight up leave sometimes

even when nothing bad has happened, and everyone is normal, even the smallest thing will tip me off and ill start feeling bad. ill start feeling like something happened and everyones upset with me, they like me less, theyre bored of me, annoyed, disgusted, ETC

its so scary man. and the worst part? i will never ever bring it up. ill never talk it through, never make my feelings known because i cant BEAR to make everything about me!!!!!! even if sharing how i feel isnt inherently selfish, ill feel like it is. itll tear me apart. there is no fucking escape!!! if i never say anything, then im leaving mid conversation to go cry in my bathroom and coming back like nothing is bothering me. if i do say something, ill sour the mood. everyone else is always having a good time, how could i just.. RUIN that? because i misinterpreted something and decided suddenly that no one actually likes me and im just.

im stuck in this loop where like. i want to be a good friend, a FUN friend. i dont want people to watch what they say around me, i dont want them to check up on how im doing, i should just be doing GOOD. but im not, i never am. its such bullshit man

why do i have to live so fucking miserably? why do i have to feel this pain, why do i always tear up over seemingly nothing? why is everything so heavy all the time

i hate that im someone who needs some kind of accommodation, i wish so desperately that i was just.. normal. normal enough to not cry like a fucking baby while everyone else is having a good time. i wish i wasnt like this, wish it so fucking badly

i dont make friends with shitty people, all my friends are so cool and sweet but like.. i just cant bring myself to bring it up, ever. i wanna be silly goofy dominic. i want them to love being around me so much that they forget about the unbelievably massive pile of mental issues i have. i want them to forget how easy it is to hurt me, even if its completely unreasonably and stupid

most of the time im successful, cuz ive got a quieter bpd going on. all the feelings are just as intense and suffocating, but i just. keep it all bottled inside, keep it all in the safety of my room. theres no like.

this is the closest ill ever get to sharing. spitting it out into a void because im too cowardly to confront my OWN emotions

i think thats what hurts the worst. i feel so fucking SELFISH. i know everyone has emotions, and id respect and love everybody elses, but mine? nothing makes me feel worse than when people actually care about me. it makes bottling everything up so hard. so hard when they ask if im okay and i have to lie to their face cuz im still not strong enough to confess whats slowly eating my alive

im just too scared of being too much. its like this line that i cant cross. i dont want to be overbearing, i dont want to be so outwardly emotional, i dont want to be VISIBLY MISERABLE to the people who love me, or at least like me enough to stick around.

but im so unsocialized that this is damn near the only way. i wanna be the fun silly goofy friend but the fact of the matter is that im just not. watching me try to participate in any conversation is just.. painful. and i can SEE how painful it is. its embarrassing how bad i am at talking. it only makes things worse, pulls me back from my dream of being someone that people ENJOY speaking to. its sad

even if im not as boring and awkward as i think i am, the fact that i think it alone holds me back. theres been so many times where i just.. bite my tongue and stay quiet even if i have an opportunity to tell a joke or something cuz the voice in the back of my head tells me "what if they dont get it? what if they dont think its funny? what if they only pretend to laugh? how embarrassing would that be?" and its right. i have to like.. silence myself so that i wont ever face any kind of rejection, because if i do itll kill me and ill feel so fucking miserable over it

i wish i didnt live my life this way, but in my head there are very few options, and all of them are bad

[bosjess]

I am so afraid and I don’t know what to do about that

I did isolate myself. It didn’t help. But I can’t be around people, because there is something deeply wrong with me that I think is unfixable.

So I end up hurting people. And I don’t mean to, but I do. And now I’ve made my own bed because I think I’m going to be killed over it. It’s that or live in constant fear, the rest of my life.

I can’t even type this out without knowing that somebody can see this. And I can’t do anything about it. Like I am being watched all the time, I don’t have any privacy and I don’t know for how long.

And I can’t fix it? What could I do? I can’t really. I can vanish, I can die. I think that’s the inevitable conclusion. It’s the prewritten ending, I don’t get a say in my own story. Sort of, because it’s my fault that I’ll die.

I am so, so tired. Bone tired. I am exhausted like I’ve never felt exhausted, it’s like every atom or something just feels complete overwhelm to the point where it feels like a constant heart attack. And I don’t know if I have made people feel exactly like that, or close, but I I probably have. And it is truly awful, and I can’t fix it.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? I think it’s a toss up between killing me or keeping me alive to suffer more and more. But it honestly feels like my heart is going to give out. I can’t explain it. I feel like I’m on another plane of existence with the terror. And it’s satisfying I feel that way, for them.

I don’t actually hate whoever’s doing this (I mean, I think I know who. Could be wrong, could be someone else. I don’t know. I live with that uncertainty. That’s part of the fear). But I’ve said I’ll roll over and be killed. When will it be enough? I don’t think there’s ever enough punishment. Everything’s gone. It was anyway but I can’t start over. This was that, I can’t even live in a house or go back to school. I can’t even live in the state, or probably under my own name, if I wanted to live.

I don’t. I really don’t. Desperately. Good god. I am buried under the weight of my shame and my own guilt. I am buried under the weight of fear and exhaustion. My life ended so long ago. I don’t know how to just..I can’t fix it. I can’t do more than be sorry. I can’t do more than go to therapy, again. Unless i torture myself. But I have. I have done that. They’ve done that. What’s next? I know I’m a terrible person.

I can’t ever feel safe again. Trusting a human being is not…a thing. And I don’t deserve to, like I can’t exist around other people. That doesn’t leave me options, does it? Like it truly leaves me no options. Zero. What could I possibly do?

And I can’t ask, I can’t beg because there will never be truth, and the more I am absolutely petrified the better this is. So it’s never going to end. I did feel hope once, but I’ve come to realise that yes, fine, I didn’t deserve to feel hope. I did not deserve to try, I didn’t deserve to live. Never. I just deserved to end, for what I’ve done to people. Maybe if I post all the things I did online, that will help? Publicly? But at the same time no because it will drag them back into it and that hurts them. I can’t even be good to torture like this though. I cannot do anything. I already feel dead. I’ve stopped feeling real anymore because like this is so bizarre but also so overwhelming that it just…like I can’t be living. I think I died, sometime, and I’m in hell, maybe? I don’t even believe in hell.

The worst part of that too is that is exactly what is meant to happen, because if I am feeling this much fear and whatever then it means I’m delusional and wrong too. So even if I had more than a tiny whatever of self esteem (if that) then I can’t say anything, I can’t get away, because I’m unbelievable. I have no credibility.

I lost all interest in life. I am afraid of horror films now. There’s one on tv and it’s making me feel worse. I don’t care about anything I once did anymore. I have the faintest flicker of interest but it goes so quickly and now I think they’re all really gone.

I’m simply not there anymore. Yesterday I felt a level of fear I’ve never experienced before. And the thought to just bash my own skull in is so nice. So nice. But I don’t know if my body will let me. And I don’t want to with my mother here right now. I think there’s going to be a point very soon where I really do lose touch with reality or something. I don’t know when but it’s just..I have no idea. Other than dying what is the way out? How can I escape and how can I be sorry enough without dying? What the fuck do I do now

I have rambled but I want to scream

[killingmyself-s-l-o-w-l-y]

Maybe I'll just write all the things I wish I could tell her here. Since I'll probably never be able to.

Why am I privileged if you can get anything you want? You own so much clothes and shoes that you literally scam to get. You literally commit a crime to get free shoes. It's called fraud.

Do you look at all white people and think in your head that they're privileged? Just cuz their skin color. When did you start thinking that? Why do you think that? Does that apply to homeless white people? People who were more abused than you? Do you look at poc and categorize them into levels of oppressed and privileged? You're pretty light yourself. Does that mean you're not as oppressed as someone darker than you? Or does being mixed make you more oppressed?

No your son will never be looked at as mixed. Hate to break it to you. But your son looks 100% Asian. He'll only face Asian hate if that's what you believe. Racism isn't alive and well the way you think it is. Of course there are individual cases of discrimination.

Why is me not wanting to watch the news racist? Just cuz the things that are on the news are "poc issues", well that's what you think. That's not what I meant and you know it. I hate the news cuz it's depressing. Always have. I literally don't care what's on it. It's always negative. I'm not gonna subject myself to something that'll make me sad, anxious, angry. Unlike you, I actually enjoy happiness.

I'm privileged cuz I can avoid the news. Well, so can you. You're American. You can just as easily turn off your phone and go outside. And to say "you're 26 years old" like it'll mean anything. You are too. We are literally the same age. You're not somehow more mature than me cuz I have a different life than you. Cuz I have hobbies you deem childish. Cuz I enjoy life like a child cuz I like to believe the world maybe isn't all bad. Or cuz I present myself as more free-spirited. I really don't know what my age had to do with anything. I'm not gonna look up triggering media just to make you happy cuz you're an activist that demands everyone "educate themselves". I. Don't. Care. About. World. Events. If it's not affecting me in my household. If it's not affecting my income, my happiness, my home, I don't see why I should fill my brain with complete despair. And the fact that I came across a video of a 4 month old dying cuz you wanted me to "educate" myself, while my daughter was 4 month old and it had me sobbing. You sat there and TOLD ME THAT WAS GOOD?! You told me that triggering myself was a good thing, are you fucking kidding me?! And then you turn around later on and contact my MOTHER IN LAW to tell her you think I'm unstable and that I should be thrown into a psych ward. Wow. Just wow.

If you think I'm so unstable why would you actively promote that I put myself in a situation that would make me more unstable. Make it make sense.

Oh and BTW I TOLD you that I would be triggered and you still PUSHED. You pushed to the point that I relapsed on self harm after being clean for a little over a year. And then you again, turn around and tell me *I* fucked up. Are you fucking shitting me right now?! Like it's somehow my fault that YOU VIOLATED MY BOUNDARIES. JESUS.

that's what abusers do.

God, I can't believe I never noticed how abusive you are. You're so toxic. Like, I get it you're going through some shit but WOW. Literally inexcusable.

But let me continue. You owe not only me but my fiance, his friend, my mom, even my mother in law, money. You took SO MUCH. Thousands of fucking dollars. And you turn around and say no one ever does anything for you. Unbelievable. Fucking ungrateful. We helped you get out of debt, which you fell back into. We helped you get a car, which you hated. We helped you live at my house cuz your abusive mother kicked you out. While you were pregnant! Everytime I went out with you I paid for the fucking food. Same with my fiance. Cuz we wanted you to save your money. Cuz you always complain you have negative in the bank. But you refuse to get a job. Cuz you "hate healthcare" well no one if forcing you to work healthcare. There's plenty of other jobs that need to be worked. But you refuse. And you do "influencing" instead. Yeah, just cuz you get a few sponsors doesn't mean you'll make bank. Get another job and actually pay the people you owe back ffs.

You're lazy. And fat but we'll get into that.

You complain constantly about your weight and the comments you get about it. Well, stop binging. Stop emotionally eating. And if that means going to intensive therapy to work it out so be it. Oh BTW, see a fucking therapist you can afford. Or see 2. One that you like and one that your insurance covers. Ffs. Get some fucking help. You have so many issues and you're so miserable. Maybe you need medication. Get some fucking sleep. Drink water. Stop drinking so much coffee. Stop buying coffee also. You're wasting money. You have fancy expresso machines and shit. USE. IT.

God you live life so lavishly and you think IM PRIVILEGED?! Who gets to live at a literal home rent free? Not me! Yet you complain about all this useless worthless pathetic crap all the time but do nothing to change your circumstances. You whine that your partner is abusive but whenever I offered refuge it wasn't good enough. You complain that you don't want his mom to raise your child but you scroll on your phone instead of participating in raising him. You whine that you're fat but still eat junk and never exercise. You whine that you're tired but you never sleep. Get your life together.

It's crazy that you think I'm immature for keeping my distance after my best friend of more than half my life called me racist for not wanting to talk about politics. For not wanting to watch the news. Cuz it made me... uncomfortable. Cuz ya know, silence is violence. Even tho I didn't feel comfortable talking about an issue that I knew NOTHING about. Cuz I'm privileged for tuning out. For just trying to live my life. Yet you took every single thing I texted you as some sort of petty passive aggressive comment. I literally just wished you a happy Thanksgiving. There was no hidden jab to get at you. Didn't realize your criminal mother was finally facing the consequences of her actions. Oh and it's not ghosting cuz you didn't reach out either hunny.

You are so goddamn miserable you can't even realize that maybe the whole world isn't out to get you. Maybe I have my own life. With my own child. And a healthy relationship that you're clearly jealous of. There's so much I shouldve said when we were on that last phone call but you wouldn't let me talk. You SCREAMED at me. At the top of your lungs. And you laughed in a condescending way. You look down on me. You think I'm less than you. I can't believe that. Just, wow.

Not to mention you called me a few different names. Did I ever once call you a name? No. No I didn't. But I did call you what you are. A jew hating, white hating person. A liberal, leftist, sjw, activist.

The fact that the world doesn't know how fucked you've become is appalling. Of course the internet doesn't know how you really are irl. Or what you've become. You used to be nice. Compassionate, kind, understanding. But what happened? Did you sell your sold to the devil? Maybe it was college. A place where they brainwash weak minded people. You don't even realize how hypocritical you've become. It's sad really.

Oh and I forgot to mention how you belittled my eating disorder. How could I forget. Cuz you're so insecure about your weight being a fat person of course when my anorexic mouth spouts shit like "I'm fat" you took that personally. Like "if you're fat than what am I?" Bro. Are you serious right now?! My eating disorder has literally nothing to do with anyone else but myself. I don't care if others are fat. That's their prerogative. But me? I fucking hate how I look. It's called body dysmorphia, maybe you should look it up sometime.

Way to take something not even related to you and twist it to be about yourself. What's that called? Narcissistic? Bffr.

[finsterhund]

Almost my birthday. And then almost the day I lost Cazza. Struggling unbelievably badly. I'm trying anything to hold it together. I have a healthy potato plant and I got a tiny little oak sapling and I have several little sprouts from apple seeds and I have my childhood willow tree cuttings starting to root. They are the only things keeping me alive at this point.

I keep thinking about how when my trees are bigger I can get nice big pots for them and I can top dress with those black and neon colored aquarium gravel I saw at the pet store. That's basically my only "able to think into the future" thing I've got.

I've been regressing. Really bad. In multiple different ways.

My body is also not doing too well. My jaw is so painfully tight and locking up from grinding/clenching/whatever and I have bites all over the inside of my mouth, immune system is practically useless and I'm both unable to sleep and unable to stop sleeping. No clue how to explain that but hopefully it comes across okay.

Somehow didn't shower for over a week. I finally did last night and I stayed in there for over five hours because I didn't want it to stop. My roommate forced me to have pizza. Not as in I didn't like pizza. I like pizza a lot. But as in I didn't feel able to eat it he had to manually steer my brain into getting pizza. I don't think I've had a proper meal other than the pizza in several days.

Otherwise I've been inside. Only inside. Except to walk Scott when nobody else is around. I'm trying to avoid interactions as much as possible because some of my more violent tendencies can get past my meds when I get this bad. I don't want to make somebody feel bad or upset or unsafe or some shit. It's harder to mask and hide how not okay I am and hide my developmental disorders and mental disabilities now. I realize I mask a whole fucking lot even though it's never enough.

Just been fucking crying and I suspect disassociating. The days are going by but I'm not conscious of things happening.

Sorry for no updates. Just want you to know I'm still here. In some capacity at least.

My first bean plant I think is dying. There's some sort of kink in the stem and even though I've given it a brace I don't know if it's going to pull through. At least in terms of growth beyond the spot. I'm really hoping it doesn't die around the same day Cazza did. I think I will actually fucking go postal.

I got a new to me daylight simulating reptile heat lamp for my plants and they seem to like it. More than the shitty pink grow light bulbs I had before from the dollar store. It's what my potato and apples exploded out under.

I want American chestnut saplings. I want my childhood cherry tree back. I managed to "unlock" an old memory of when people killed the tree I liked when I was very small. The one in the front yard with the scarf(?) tied to a lower branch. I have the image of the entire root they dug out being lifted out of the ground and the curling shape of that big ass taproot as they stole it from me.

I keep trying to Google to see if it's possible that if there's some level of roots of my cherry tree still left in the ground that they could potentially send up sprouts that I could maybe someday ask the new owner about. You know, like American chestnut stump sprouts? But all the internet has to say is how to kill those potential spouts. It's not helping me feel better that's for sure.

Fruit trees I know for a fact were killed from the front yard of the Spot house since I lived there too I remember also. I think there are still some there though.

My neighbor was bothered by me somehow a couple weeks ago but I have no clue what the fuck I did and they won't tell me. I try my fucking hardest to be palatable for people in real life and not be difficult or annoying and shit still fucking happens. I fucking ask and I'm not given an answer and it's just brushed off. It's probably my neurodivergentness being unsightly or some shit. They have irresponsibly soft views on dog husbandry and joke about me being no fun for not letting Scott run around off leash or not eating random shit off the ground on so maybe it's that??? But they did literally mention that they knew "something was wrong" with me when we first met. This isn't a new thing and I haven't seen them since I've gotten this bad right now but I still keep fucking thinking about it.

I don't belong anywhere. I don't have a home. I don't have a family. As real as things online are to me they aren't physically tangible and monkey brain want to feel and hold.

I'm aware right now at how I try to take up as little space as possible and it's still never enough. My roommate has stuff filling practically every area of our shared living space, stuff lining every wall, and he gets mad at me for having my computer chair in the living room or fixing something out on the floor. When he was having his mental health emergency I comforted him and let him lie on my bed and held him while he cried but as he got better the "getting short with me because I'm not immediately putting my tools and shit away" started up again. So now I'm keeping things I need to clean in a garbage bag in my room so it doesn't get grime on my stupid ass carpet I've been repeatedly vacuuming because if I put cups and pots and other shit I need to wash and soak on the kitchen counter by the sink he'll get after me and make me feel more upset.

There's a mold problem so I have to clean things more frequently. He says it might be in the plumbing. Knowing things I think this may be correct. I have no clue where the fuck that shit is coming from otherwise.

I like watching him play Zelda tears of the kingdom but I wish I could play. I've been unable to play games for idk how long. Same with reading, drawing, everything else. It looks like a good game at least. I like it. Reminds me of going over to my friend's house and play Ocarina of Time. Tulin feels a lot like Orion. Makes me wish I could actually accomplish something with my books. He's like if someone who wasn't a complete fuck up managed to make the character and put him in something that actually fucking got released.

I think once I've exhausted all the old vegetable seeds my neighbor gave me I'll stick to just my runner beans and trees from now on. A lot of them don't seem to be viable anymore so it's not gonna take too long but I feel bad. I hate having dirt I hate having dirt spill on the stupid fucking carpet. I want to just say fuck it and rip that shit out of my bedroom so fucking bad. I think at this point the only thing stopping me from doing that is how I'd have to take my furniture out to do it and my roommate getting mad at me. Theoretically due to how the landlords are a stupid corporation of brainless degenerate cunts if I kept the shit ass carpet all in one piece if I removed it when it was time to move out I could just nailgun the bitch back in and they'd be none the wiser. I'd probably do a better job than the stupid incompetent nepo baby they get to to maintenance in these cubicles regardless. Apparently they're under new management and fired that guy? Who fucking knows. I still don't trust whatever chud they send in to replace the shit plumbing job or rewire the faulty electrical. My roommate's light switch shocks him by the way. I'm sure that's totally normal. The hallway outlet started smoking years ago so we simply just don't use that. Probably just the wind.

I had to unclog the kitchen sink. It's gross. It's built in such a way that particles won't actually fully go down. As in they used the wrong shape pipe pieces. Simply stellar. I can't be assed to replace it yet though. The bathroom sink is slow draining too and roommate keeps reminding me to fix that as well but I don't fucking want to right now. Maybe I should because fixing things helps me feel better but I hate the yucky gross gross. I wish I could actually wear gloves but it is so damn hard to use my hands with gloves. My stupid fucking mental brain stupid and my stupid fucking impaired fine motor skills. Hands are basically just imprecise lumps of meat that twitch and shudder.

Somehow it's 4AM. Wow. Idk. How did this happen again.

I wish my seedlings would stop dampening off or whatever the fuck. It's probably the goddamn mold or some shit. I wish I understood how plants get nutrients with hydroponics because I'd do that but I'd be so fucking upset if they died.

Wish I had a parent who cared about me the way I care about my plants lol. Wish I had some level of security.

Also you know. Wish Cazza was back. It's gotten to the point where she feels like a theoretical supernatural entity now rather than my flesh and blood real life best friend who I used to be able to hold and touch and pet and smell and feel and hear and talk to and have close by always there for me.

Value village has been inexplicably closed for no reason for a month now and that was the one thing I could go and do and see new things. If it shuts down for good that will just be one more nail in the coffin.

Roommate says we can go to Home Depot for my birthday to get stuff for my plants but I'm scared I'm not going to want to or that I'm going to regret spending money. (Also very real possibility that he's going to get mad at me for spending money)

Maybe I should just buy an established tree. One that can with proper care thrive in a pot under grow lights. I wanted there to be a bond. Some sort of cosmic significance. Like the tree being related to one from my childhood or hand grown from seed by myself but I think I'd benefit from having someone that's already established enough that I don't have to worry too badly about pests and seedling conditions and shit. Something that doesn't feel too delicate for my stupid hands. I have to think how the hell I managed as a toddler but my tremors were probably much better. I don't remember having them until 12+ so it's probably the case. Maybe I'm also just not remembering my failures too. I don't know. I wish I wouldn't have planted my apple tree because mom would have kept it in its pot and someday I might have taken it back from her. But I have new baby apples and hopefully at least one will make it.

The Anakin quote about sand is so bitterly relatable to me now about just regular ass dirt. God fucking hate dirt. I need an adult who's respectable and wise and trustworthy to teach me about successfully growing healthy plants in soil-leas mediums. If there's horticulture or whatever the fuck school would I even be able to afford such a thing? Would it be accessible to my mental and physical shit?

Some pride though is that my mom told me I wouldn't be able to germinate store bought poppy seeds and I did. I fucking did. Take that. No clue if they'll grow past seedling stage with whatever the fuck is going on but I still fucking did it. No luck with pomegranates and mango seeds seem to be moldy before you even fucking eat the fruit but I specifically germinated the seeds I was told I couldn't.

Also fuck whoever told me that cuttings you're trying to root need darkness. You shitheels on the internet I swear to christ because I saw a guy on YouTube do an experiment and guess what!? Cuttings sprouted much better in a clear uncovered glass jar. Also despite algae they did better without water changing too.

I'm currently using hydrogen peroxide to fight the mold problems. It seems to be going away but I had to repot my green onions and cut them back significantly to hopefully save them.

One day I hope I have a house and some land. I want a solarium. I want a big glass room with lots of sunlight that's far away from other buildings or people or smoke or dust or other crap. There's a small orchard outside of the solarium that's surrounded by a windbreak of evergreens. So that it's only visible from the inside. When there's storms I can watch rain hit the glass and make a big waterfall across the roof and down the walls. You know, like the things in dairy queen dining rooms.

That's what's keeping me going. Eventually all the old super rich people will die and then disabled people (hell even a perfectly employable healthy guy in my generation at this point) will finally be able to own a house again.

Still hoping it'll be my grandparents farm though. I won't give up on that house even though everybody else has.

Nothing more to say that isn't repeating things or depraved rambling off into nothing so idk update over I guess.

[neopolpleb]

Curiosity Saved The Cat | a Micheal Myers x GN!Reader

warnings: none! Just a sweet ol thingy bout you and ol mikey meeting

A/N: Aye babies this isn’t my first rodeo on this hellsite but you’ve probably never seen my work unless you have the memory of an elephant and an obsession with Karl Heisenberg!

But! New user new me y’know. So this is my first fic as Neopleb and I hope you stick around and maybe send in some requests!

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His favorite activity was to watch you. Sometimes you didn’t know. Sometimes he knew you knew, but your favorite was when he didn’t know that you knew.

You were used to the iconic Micheal stare. I mean, dating this seven foot hunk of a killer for a few years meant you had to get used to it or it just wouldn’t be pleasant for you. Thankfully, you were able to take his glares and glances but you also learned how to tell them apart.

Of course, theres the stare that fills even the strongest of men with fright as they realize their death is soon nearing when they look into the emotionless gaze that hid the truest form of evil. The Shape.

You’re grateful you’ve never experienced the full force of that gaze. You had seen it be fought off the night you two met. It was replaced with the next stare; curiosity.

The day you two met is a memory you cherish, but of course your logical side always is ringing in the back of your head “HOW THE FUCK DID I SURVIVE EVIL FUCKING PERSONIFIED???” or something along those lines.

The answer was simple, you intrigued him. Micheal had never seen anything like you. He couldn’t understand it. The shape was banging in his skull telling him to kill you right now. Finish the job. But Micheal for once didn’t listen. For once in over many decades, he let his more human side take over and he just left.

Imagine the look on your face when Micheal Myers, who was five seconds away from killing you just up and walks away. You didn’t know how to react. You sat in the corner of your silent bedroom praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn’t change his mind about sparing you.

You didn’t want to provoke him in anyway so you cast logic to the wind and didn’t contact the police. In the weeks following the encounter you thought you had just been a miracle and would never have a run in with the masked fellow again…

Until you started noticing things. Things like, windows being open that you were sure to have closed the night before. Locks suddenly broken no matter how many times you would replace them. You tried your best to calm your thoughts but the obvious answer was basically hitting you in the face. He never let you be. He had been watching you the whole time.

Of course you freaked out, but then came the confusion. Why hadn’t he killed you? You had lived in Haddonfield long enough to hear the stories, and from what you gathered, Micheal didn’t really keep victims. Of course if they ran he’d find them again, but it was usually a quick job. So why are you still here?

That was a question even Micheal couldn’t answer. It felt like everyday was “the day he is definitely going to do it” but it never was. He just watched you. Almost as if you were a science project that he had to observe.

He couldn’t wrap his head around you. To the naked eye you were just a normal person. You moved from the city to live a quiet life, a fresh start, in a small town in Illinois. You kept to yourself. The only person who knew you by name was the usual cashier at the local supermarket. You minded your business. Yet some how you caught the eye of god’s most terrifying creation.

After a few weeks of trying fix the locks, even going as far to super glue a few windows shut, you gave up. They always found themselves open again, you came to the thought that “if he hasn’t killed me yet, why am I to be so worried?” Which on your part isn’t the smartest, but no one ever said you were the sharpest knife in the drawer.

It was a silent night it February. You had fallen asleep on your couch after a long day of studying for your exams. You hadn’t slept in over 20 hours, and you were out cold, so you didn’t hear the creak of the back door opening.

Micheal stalked in, as silent as ever. Hiding in the shadows as he mapped out his plan to finally end you tonight. He headed towards your bedroom, expecting you to be there asleep in bed as you usually were. He stopped as he spotted you passed out on the couch. Half your body was hanging off the side and there was a pencil stuck in your hair.

He stared at you again, the curious gaze returning as his plan slowly faded from his mind. You were an enigma. How did you capture his gaze like this, why did he push everything aside just to watch you. You were just another victim. Another body. Another object to him. Why is his mind seeing you as something more.

The thing that pulled him from his thoughts was your body slamming to the ground after just a bit too much of you came off the couch. He quickly hid in the shadows of the hallway, planning his escape as you tried to get your bearings after your rude awakening.

You rubbed your head, groaning as you slowly stood. You waddled over to the kitchen to get a glass of water before chasing the lingering sleep to your bed. You felt his gaze, you had become more aware of it once you had given up on shutting the monster out. You grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it was tap water. The stream filling the glass was the only sound that could be heard throughout the house.

You leaned back against the counter as you sipped the water. Glancing around the room hoping to spot your watcher but you as always, you never could. You sighed shaking off the gaze and setting the cup in the sink before heading towards your bedroom.

You made it halfway towards your hallway before you spotted the silhouette in the shadows. Your brain was yanking at the reigns of your body to run, hide, call someone, ANYTHING. Yet you just… stood there. Not as if you were frozen in fear, but as if you were having a staring contest with your intruder.

You took a deep inhale and let it out in a sigh before you continued your walk to your room. You knew that this could possibly be your final moment, but it was almost 4 am and you were still incredibly tired. So with logic to the wind, you walked past Micheal who kept his gaze on you the entire time.

You couldn’t see his face, but it was contorted in pure confusion- Why weren’t you running? Why weren’t you cowering in fear. He stared in shock as you reached your bedroom door at the end of the hallway.

Your hand grabbed the knob turning it gently, before glancing back at the man who now stood on the opposite side of the hallway, still watching. You opened the door slowly, turning back to face him.

“… Theres uh- Theres leftovers in the fridge. Spaghetti. You can have some if you want, just put the plate in the sink when your done please.” You spoke quietly, before quickly closing the door to your room. Immediately jumping under your covers as if you were a child hiding from the monster in your closet, but you knew even a child wouldn’t be dumb enough to offer a monster DINNER.

You squeezed your eyes shut and cut out the world as you let sleep take over, hoping to awake the next morning.

You did in fact wake up the next morning, your bedroom door was left open, which you let go quickly considering the fact that you were still alive. You slowly crept out to the living room, glancing around to make sure your visitor hadn’t stuck around. You didn’t see anyone, or feel any gaze so you walked to your kitchen feeling more safe.

There was a bowl left on the counter, you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “Dude breaks into my house, eats my food, and I ask him ONE thing and he can’t even do it? Unbelievable.” You fake being dramatic to yourself, as you set the bowl in the sink and begin making yourself breakfast.

You begin cracking eggs into a bowl when you hear the creak of your back door opening. You pause momentarily, before continuing your cooking. A few silent seconds later and you feel the familiar gaze resting on the back of your head.

You continue your cooking and point to the table,

“If you want breakfast sit down and it’ll be done soon” it came out more confident than your offer last night and you hope that you didn’t anger him. Thankfully, you hear a chair being pulled out and you take a glance to see Micheal sitting, his gaze still locked on you.

Sometimes you still wonder why he hadn’t killed you. He doesn’t talk much but in his more talkative moments he joked that he only kept you around for your food. Though in truth sometimes he doesn’t really know the answer. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Hell he didn’t even believe in love period before he started hanging around you. Yet something about you stuck out to him, but he has a lifetime with you to figure it out.

[liz-allyn]

shudder; part 6/6 [agent mobius x reader]

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4.4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: smut, language, soft daddy kink, sex in otherwise unsanitary conditions, writer's horribly pathetic attempt at dirty talk

A/N: Here it is guys. I struggled with this chapter a lot, also mad respect for gn!writers. I don't think I succeeded in keeping it neutral (welcoming feedback on how I can improve) so I removed that tag.

You watched a small fire crackle in the darkness of an elevator shaft, being used as a chimney. Rain spilled down the walls, running over old steel and concrete, but at least you were no longer in it.

Once you had had the strength to move off the beach, you found a footpath scaling up the face of the cliff which led to an abandoned mining post.

The population of Olympus-V had steady decline for decades, either by migration, poverty, or famine. The planet had been practically barren for years, save for some mining operations to squeeze the last of the planet’s natural resources.

It was in one of those posts where you were now taking refuge with Mobius. You sat on the ground near the elevator shaft, your clothes still soaked, while Mobius fiddled around with building a fire. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

“You know how many centuries it took early man on Earth to figure out fire?” Mobius mused as he tended to the flames. “I mean, it’s not a competition or anything, but other civilizations had it down in like a few decades, max.”

You rolled your eyes miserably. “I got him killed, you know,” you replied, not having the energy to follow Mobius into another one of his “fun-facts-about-history” rabbit holes. You’d been quiet for a while, with Mobius having to hold both ends of the conversation. The grim tone in your voice gave him pause.

“The new guy,” you clarified, your tone flat as you spoke of your deceased partner. The last time you and Mobius had spoken, he had sang his praises. “It was only our fourth mission together and he’s dead. Because of me.”

Mobius sighed and turned away from you, “That’s one interpretation.” He dropped another piece of coal into the flame and came to a stand. “Or,” he added, “you could say he was a great analyst who made rational, competent choices and was working with the best data he had. The fact that he trusted you doesn’t make him any less responsible for the outcome.”

He idly wiped his hands on his pants, carrying on and providing no harbor for your self-pity, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Your tone was icy. “Because you weren’t there.” You glared at him from across the smallish room you were huddled in, bitterness souring your voice. “You sent me away, remember?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his head slightly. “I had no other choice,” he parroted the same old response.

That wasn’t an answer that satisfied you. At all.

“Why?” you bit back with a mocking tone, coming to a quick stand. You pulled no punches. “Because the TVA told you to? Because if the Time Lords—”

“—Time Keepers—”

“—Time Fascists,” you hissed, “think that I have a crush on you, they'll zap me out of my useless existence?”

He glanced over at you, smirking with his head tilted slightly. He replied with a voice as sweet as caramel, “Are you saying you have a crush on me?”

Your shoulders dropped. “You’re insufferable.” You turned away, wishing you could find a different mine.

“Hey, considering my recent valiant and heroic efforts to rescue you,” he replied, “you’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” You let out an exhausted sigh, but he kept going - cool as a cucumber. “I thought we had a thing going there. I mean - first, you kiss me—”

You spun on your heel. “Kiss you!?” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “On the beach.”

“I was resuscitating you!” you argued. “You call that a kiss?”

He shrugged innocently, a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he responded matter-of-factly. “But, uh, yeah - it was a little underwhelming.”

He grinned slyly. You wanted to simultaneously melt into him and burn him alive. You scoffed, shaking your head incredulously.

“What was the point?” you exclaimed. “What’s the point of rescuing me if I’m nothing but a - a tool? A blunt hammer for the TVA to snuff out anyone that steps out of line?”

The pain in your voice was unmistakable, and Mobius dropped his playful banter.

“You think I’ve enjoyed spending the last - however long it's been - hopping around the timeline hunting people who are no different than me?” Your heart ached with every word, “You think I enjoy killing?”

“No,” he answered, weighed with guilt, “I don’t.”

Your rage flared. “Then why won’t you just let me go!?”

“I can’t,” he quietly explained, eyes cast down. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Fuck this infuriatingly charming, cowardly little TVA sheep-whore.

You felt the venom pooling on your tongue. “God! You’re such a company man, aren’t y—”

“I can’t!” he raised his voice in a way that you’d never heard before, stunning you into silence. He lifted his gaze and looked at you solemnly, his expression filled with regret. His words were weak, broken - barely above a whisper. “...Let you go.”

You stared blankly at him, reading the tragedy written on his features. With his defenses down, you could clearly see every word: I don’t want to let you go. I need you, forever. You are mine and I am yours and nothing else makes sense beyond that. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

Were those his thoughts, or yours? You didn’t know anymore.

Mobius reached up quickly and loosened his tie, before deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You were staring like a deer in the headlights. “Wha-Wai-what are you doing?” you blurted uncomfortably with a furrowed brow.

He rolled his eyes. “Not catching hypothermia, if that’s alright with you,” he snarkily said as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a soaked white undershirt beneath. You remembered that you both were freezing and wet. “I’m drying my clothes by the fire. We still have 10 hours and 23 minutes until we hit the radiation peak.”

Ah yes, you had almost forgotten.

Ten hours until the end of the world, or at least of Olympus-V. And because Mobius’ TempPad was unbelievably conveniently out of juice, and unable to open another Time Door, you were pretty sure you had about the same amount of time left to exist.

Mobius confidently felt otherwise. He rattled on some jargon about needing a massive source of energy to power the TempPad - something about electromagnetic waves, solar bursts, radiation of a dying star, the “sweet spot” between a steady charge and a gruesome death. You honestly stopped listening back at the beach.

You were too busy questioning his motives and your own. Were you happy that Mobius was trapped with you, about to be swallowed by the sun? Or were you furious that he idiotically ran right into an apocalypse and now you both were going to die.

He quipped that at least that technically made him a hero; maybe he’d get a plaque in the TVA cafeteria. You would’ve made some kind of cheeky comeback, but you were already dying inside at that devastating thought.

“Not to be too forward, but you should probably do the same,” Mobius added, bringing you back to the present situation where he was undressing in front of you. “You’re shaking like a chihuahua right now.”

You were about to question the puzzling thought of him being in a place in time to observe a chihuahua, but then he pulled his wet t-shirt over his head. You turned your gaze away reflexively as soon as you spotted human flesh.

Here you were - former soldier, mercenary, and spy, and fearsome hunter of the Time Variance Authority - blushing like a shrinking violet. It’s not that he didn’t have a point, it was just--fuck, he’s undoing his belt— is this real life right now?

“Don’t worry,” he scoffed flippantly. “I’ll even turn my back to preserve your innocence and sanctity.”

He was being facetious but it made you wonder if he had any idea how un-sanctified you were. Your eyes widened at the thought: Did he watch that on the highlight reel too?

Now he was pulling his slacks off, and you were tracking in real time again. He kept his promise and had his back to you, allowing you the privacy to undress. And you did.

You peaked over your shoulder to see him lay his clothes out in front of the flames. He dragged over an old canvas tarp he’d found - pieces of which he’d stripped off for kindling - and moved it to a safe proximity from the fire. He sat down in the middle of the tarp, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around him.

And he kept his underwear on - boxer briefs, you’d called it - not that you were trying to look below his waist or anything.

Once he was at rest, he rubbed his hands over his bare arms to create friction. You mirrored his steps one-by-one, until you were also sitting in your underwear on the canvas with your bare backs inches apart.

You both were quiet for a long time, facing opposite directions, surrounded by the cold darkness, and the sound of trickling water. You could still hear the waves thrashing and the rain bartering on the rocks outside. The crackle of the fire - the way the flame danced and dimly lit your surroundings, brought you a sense of peace. It was almost... romantic. Even if it was the end of the world.

“I know this is my fault,” Mobius declared, breaking the silence. You could hear struggle in his voice. “I know I was supposed to stay within my lane. My purpose is to preserve and protect the timeline, and that’s it, it’s just....” He sighed, and you listened carefully, hanging on his words. Was this doubt?

It sounded like he was trying to understand himself. “Something’s different now,” he explained, with a little bit of wonder and fear. “When we’re together, I feel… like I’m someone else. And I’m not who I was before. Before you.”

You quietly listened, thinking about how much you identified with what he was saying.

“My head is telling me it’s all wrong,” he said, “that I’m making a mistake. That I’m playing with fire.” His next thoughts brought the tiniest grin to his otherwise grim voice. “When I’m with you… I feel like a dope… Reckless.” The smile faded as his thoughts sobered him. “Dangerous.”

In the silence that followed, you wondered again whose thoughts you were hearing - his or yours.

“How can something that feels so right be wrong?” he mused openly - for you, the Time Keepers, and all the Sacred Timeline - to hear.

The question that hung heavy in the air had such a clear answer, of which you were certain. Your mind raced trying to think of how to respond, how to explain. You simply couldn’t find the words.

So you turned your body towards him. You reached over Mobius’ shoulder gently to cup the side of his face, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was slow and chaste, projecting every intention and emotion that you lacked the words to describe. Each time you moved your lips, you took another breath; you wrote another line of your love letter to him. He sank deeper into your kiss, as your souls tangled and caught fire.

And then you felt it.

You were positioned behind him, with his back to your chest when a burst of lightning crawled up his spine. A desperate shudder racked his body. He pulled away from you breathlessly, his eyes closed, as you both panted and glowed with the heat of the moment.

“If I didn’t know any better,” your lips curled into a sultry smile, “I’d say I was making you nervous.”

He opened his dark bronze eyes at that, drinking you in. He couldn’t help but mirror your mischievous smirk. In an instant, he snatched you up and pulled you onto his lap. You kissed him hungrily, straddling him, as his hands glided over your body.

Your mind went foggy, as any composure you had in the situation was evaporating. His lustful kisses scorched your skin as they traveled down your neck. He lifted you higher so that he could drink more of you in. You gasped and sighed at how your body reacted to him, your fingers digging into his scalp. He groaned with pleasure as he found your open mouth again, your tongue a welcoming partner.

He pulled you in tighter, your hips grinding further into him. You felt his want, hard against your body, and you felt the last of your innocence pooling between your legs. The friction made you let out an un-sanctified moan, breaking away from his kiss. The sound of your voice intoxicated him.

You were in a controlled descent backwards as he lowered you to your back.

When did you start trembling? Has it really been that long since your last time?

Your hands danced across his chest, triggering goosebumps. Even his skin wanted you. You writhed beneath him as he positioned himself between your legs. You were bursting like a firecracker with anxious need. Your hands groped him, nails gently grazing - traveling down his torso and beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He gasped as your fingers wrapped around his organ, fluttering his eyes shut at your touch. You were on autopilot, your physical need in command of your body, as you attempted to pull his stiff erection from his boxers.

Mobius snatched your hands and you froze. He pulled your arms up, grasping your hands tightly, and pinned your wrists to the floor on either side of your head. You were hit with a wave of confusion, followed by shame.

Maybe you’d read this wrong. You looked up at him, half-expecting to read an expression of disgust.

What you found was the opposite.

His eyes— gentle, dark, and focused intently on you— telegraphed a message for you to read carefully:

You were not the one in control here.

You felt the wind of butterflies deep in your core as you realized he had clear goals for you in mind. He was asking you - imploring you - for command of your body. For the record, he already had it - whether or not either of you were conscious of it.

You lay still, save for your chest’s gentle movements, as his eyes unravelled the layers of your being. Trapped in his gaze, you were stripped bare in more than just flesh.

You were time travelling again - years into the past. The pages of your chapters fell away, until you felt like a pupil again, watching your master navigating the geography of your body.

His grip softened, giving your palms an affectionate squeeze before he released your hands. His leering gaze was already gliding down your valleys, and his hands followed, letting his fingertips brush the delicate flesh of your forearms as they travelled.

All your mind could do to focus was count your every breath as his touch and kisses grazed your skin. You wondered how long it had been for him. You quivered at the thought of him planning this moment.

He took time tasting you with each kiss - down your chest, your belly, the crest of your hips. You lifted your core with his encouragement, allowing him to pull away your last remaining piece of clothing. You were finally unveiled before him. He sighed softly, mind buzzing, as he delicately spread your legs apart.

He moved so slowly with intention, relishing each moment. You were on the verge of losing it and he had yet to touch your most sensitive areas. He could feel your hips squirm with anticipation.

“I want you,” he pacified you, “more than anything.” He tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh. “But I need to know that you want this too. Without a doubt in your mind.”

You were desperate by this point, way past “willing.” Regardless, he met your eyes, waiting patiently for your consent.

You were consumed with lust. “Please,” you stuttered in passionate exhilaration. You could barely recognize your own voice, “You can do anything you want to me.”

His face twitched into a sinful smirk. “I know.” There was that confidence again. “But that’s not what I asked.” He steadied his composure and fixed himself in your sights once again. You gazed at him with a more sobered expression, giving this moment the respect he wanted.

He watched your lips now that he had your attention. “Tell me you want me to make you feel good,” he seductively implored. “Tell me you want me to take you, here and now. I need to hear you say yes.”

The way he asked for your consent could’ve put you over the edge by itself.

“Yes,” you practically moaned under your breath. It was a sinful, thirsty plea. “God, yes, please. I want you to touch me.”

That ignited his fuse.

He lowered to his elbows, positioning his arms beneath your legs. His mouth was on you, leaving you aghast at the force. It was like he wanted more than just to please you - he relished in devouring you, like a frozen dessert on a hot summer day. You jolted and gasped, more from surprise than pain. He took note anyway, and steadied his animalistic pace.

It wasn’t long until your eyes were rolled in the back of your head. You were thunderstruck, arching your body and moaning with ecstasy.

The way his name sounded each time it sprang from your lips made him drunk. Every time you uttered it, you felt him tense and groan. It was a perpetual cycle. Your hips would reflexively buck from the intense pleasure and he would just hold on tighter. He forced your thighs apart as you encouraged him to unleash more rapture on your body.

This was not a particularly new position for you, but it was good. You weren’t sure where he got the experience, but he was really, really good.

And if “Sacred-you”— “NC-17-rated,” “parental-advisory-warning-labelled” badass-you—could just see yourself now: writhing on the floor while being laid out by an older man, one whom you’d rarely seen out of a brown suit and tie. You didn’t think this man knew how to fire a gun before, but you were practically mewling for him like a kitten.

And god, he really seemed to enjoy it.

You warned him that you couldn’t last much longer. You felt the tension building inside. You wanted desperately to satisfy him, to feel him inside of you, to have him enraptured with you. But unless he slowed down, you were going to lose it right here with his mouth on you. You knew he had needs, and you began to plead with him to let you fulfill them.

You pushed down on his shoulders, begging him to let you have a turn. He pulled away, pausing only briefly.

“Uh uh,” he chastised you with a wicked grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He was back on you before you could reply, this time reaching two of his fingers into your core.

Your head dropped backwards at the sensation, and now you were obscenely begging him for more. You’d happily given up any attempt at controlling what happened next, focusing solely on the nuclear fission in your body.

You blossomed for him as his fingertips pulsed on the most sensitive flesh inside inside you. Muscles you didn’t even remember you had repeatedly contracted. He impurely hummed and he lapped greedily at the fruit of his labor.

You were gasping for air, beaded with sweat, as you came down from your high. He leaned over you to witness the sunset of your orgasm. Eyes full of lust, he pulled himself free of his boxers and discarded them as he watched you.

When you glanced down to see the stunning sight of his stimulation, it re-electrified you. You pulled yourself into a sitting position on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs straddled him eagerly as he lifted your hips over his member.

The erotic sound you both made as you slid down his shaft was sinful enough to cast you both into hell. You kissed him, open-mouthed, and tasted yourself on his tongue. Now that you were on top of him, wrapped around him, he seemed more frantic and less calculated with his movement.

He was gazing up at you like a lustful teenage boy, letting himself be taken by passion. “God...” he whispered, suddenly less skilled with words. “You feel so... ah!... s-so beautiful...”

“You’re so hard…stretching me so tight,” you groaned into his mouth, and he growled in agreement, nodding his head.

He broke away from the kiss, “God - yes, ah, you’re s-so tight, baby...” You grinned excitedly as you climbed and descended his length. You moaned like a porn star as you rode him.

“I can call you that, can’t I?” he said through his own breathless moans. You glanced at him in confusion. He looked concerned. His hands braced your hips as you continued your movement. “Is that okay?”

“Wha-what?”

“The pet name,“ he explained through sighs, “B-Baby? I-I don’t want it to sound de-demeaning, or... patronizing—”

Okay. Now he was overthinking it.

“It’s fine,” you urged him to move on, growing more frustrated, but now he was babbling nervously.

“I could call you something else—”

“—don’t care—”

“—’s’important to me that you know I respect you, and I’d never—”

“I don’t care, I—You can call me whatever you want. Please, daddy… Just— fuck me…”

You crashed your lips on his, but felt his breath hitch as he tensed you immediately. You either said something very right, or very wrong. The sex had all but come to a screeching halt, as you reluctantly met his eyes.

He gazed at you thoughtfully, gears turning.

Timidly, you searched his face for judgment, for any sign of disapproval, but instead, there was a look of almost— awe.

You watched the change in him as the devil overtook him. His eyes turned three shades darker, pooling with lust. His expression of wonder melted into a devious smile. Your dirty talk awakened something in him, like he was remembering a long-forgotten visceral part of himself.

He scooped you up and laid you on your back again, pulling himself out of your body. You only had a brief time to revolt, until he sat up on his knees and he lifted one of your thighs up, pulling your leg over his shoulder. You watched curiously trying to figure out what he was doing, until he gripped your hips and pulled you downward— over his shaft.

You let out a painfully delicious cry as he bottomed out inside of you. He hungrily watched your expressions and relished in the sound of your moans.

His hand braced the inside of your other thigh, holding your legs open so that you were spread at the right angle for him. As soon as he began to thrust, you were done for.

You groaned with ecstasy. “That’s... it..,” he praised you, eliciting more cries from you.

There were no more performances. There was no more pageantry. No more room for pretending to be anyone other than who you are.

You were coming undone for him, and he watched every moment. Every dirty thought and fantasy you ever had might as well have been written on your body. He studied each line.

“Oh god, Mobius—yes,” you babbled as you squirmed.

“Yeah?” he breathed, teasingly. “Does that feel good?” You nodded frantically.

Sweat beaded down his chest as his hands roamed to find your sweet spot, and another desperate wave of ‘yes’s flooded out from your lips.

“What did you call me?” he enticed, his mouth watering for your response. “What name did you call me before?” You were struggling with words, but he wouldn’t stop until he coaxed the right one from you.

“Say it.”

You tangled your fingers in your scalp, turning your head away. He thrust into your hips a little deeper, and you cried out obscenely.

“Say it,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I wanna hear you say it again. I wanna watch you say it to me.”

More lewd noises dropped out of your mouth, as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Yes, please, I love what’re… doing t’ me… I need it, daddy…”

He groaned with a lecherous smile, biting his lip. “You are so good for me.”

Lust was dripping from each word as he drew them out. His honeyed, Southern accent had returned. His eyes were blown black as he cooed with praise, “You make me wanna be so bad.”

You were gone after that. Your head tilted back, crying out through another climax. He could hear his own voice—that’s it that’s it—moaning in the distance somewhere, but he was enthralled with your little pleas. The tones of your voice washed over him; he used them to quell the blaze inside.

He knew everything he wanted to do to you, and everything you wanted him to do. And he couldn’t get past the feeling, as he buried himself deeper inside of you, that this was all... familiar.

This picture of you, spread out gloriously beneath him, was impossibly familiar. He imagined a bed that wasn’t his own, and light blue cotton sheets that couldn’t have been his, and the sunlight peeking from a sheer curtain, and falling across the ecstasy-filled face of his lover that he couldn’t have ever married...

That was....you.

Your voice was echoing in Mobius’ head. You whined and whimpered, glowing with passion, signaling that you were moments away from your climax. And then he was here - on Olympus-V with you, and he felt you tighten and flutter around him.

The sight of you, writhing beneath him as you reached orgasm, pulled a deep moan from his chest. White hot light flooded his vision. His body jerked and reacted in unison, filling you with his seed.

For someone for whom time had little meaning, he was now obsessed - trying to catch and hold back each fleeting moment. He leaned forward, his body spent, and you pulled his chin down into a longing kiss.

His mind was spinning. His lungs were still taking deep breaths. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as he struggled to make sense of what was real and what was a dream.

“I could never let you go,” he declared, deep in contemplation. You didn’t quite understand the connection in the present moment. You didn’t remember.

“Then stay with me,” was your gentle reply.

He gazed once again into your eyes with a knowing smile. “Always.”

A/N: And I'm leaving it there. For now. Please reblog with feedback, or send me a message on your thoughts. This is my first attempt at writing in a long, long time. Also it's my first attempt at smut so be nice with your feedback :-)

THANK YOU to all of you for your wonderful comments. Please reblog for support!

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia @simsiddy @coloursforyourportrait

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

[amazingmsme]

Annoying Turnabout

This was supposed to be a quick little drabble, but I have no self control and it got away from me. No matter, Ace Attorney needs more fluffy fics like this. Phoenix is so fucking cute when he’s embarrassed, and I probably made Edgeworth more teasy than he’d actually be. But that’s okay your honor, they’re smitten.

Miles Edgeworth was a composed man. He didn't often joke around and laughed rarely. His smile was more of a snide smirk, even when it was genuine. And to top it all off, he had an air of superiority about him, like he was too good for anything even mildly amusing. Which is why Phoenix was determined to make him crack.

"Y'know Miles, even though you were an uptight kid, you still knew how to have fun," he noted. Edgeworth cocked a brow, glancing up from the magazine he was reading. "Is that so?"

"Mhm."

"Your point being..." he prompted, trailing off as he went back to reading. Phoenix shrugged, the hint of a smile on his face.

"I don't know. I just never thought you'd grow up to be such a stick in the mud," he said, hoping to gain a reaction from him. Edgeworth stiffened, hands clenching and crinkling the pages as he glared at him.

"Excuse me, what did you just call me?" he said through his teeth.

"You heard me. Or do you need hearing aids?" he asked smugly. Miles knew he was just messing with him. Trying to rile him up. And he shouldn't give him what he wanted. But oh, how he wanted to play along.

"You're the one who needs hearing aids, old man," he said, a teasing note in his voice.

Phoenix chuckled and shook his head. "We're the same age, so you basically called yourself old." Edgeworth looked up, eyes wide and hair falling in his face. "Nhg- You know damn well that's not what I meant!" he said, slamming a fist on the table.

He merely smirked, propping his feet on Edgeworth's desk and leaned back in his chair. He even put his hands behind his head in a show of defiance. "Do I?" Miles glared harder and grabbed his ankles, shoving them off the desk. Phoenix flailed his arms to regain his balance as the chair teetered on its back legs.

Edgeworth hummed as he steadied himself. "Pity, I was hoping you'd fall."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he teased, leaning forward this time. Miles rolled his eyes and went back to reading. Phoenix huffed in annoyance when he was ignored. He stretched his leg out under the table and lightly stepped on the toe of his shoe.

He grunted and pulled his foot away, only for Wright to repeat the motion. He looked at him from over the top of his magazine. "Is there a reason why you're more insufferable than usual?" he asked.

The truth of the matter was that Phoenix thought he was unbelievably cute when aggravated. And deep down, he was a little shit.

"Nope," he said, popping the "p."

"What are we, five years old now?" Miles asked incredulously.

Phoenix shrugged. "Hey, I'd rather have a mental age of five than 50," he sassed.

"Wright. You are testing my patience, and you don't want to know what will happen when it runs out," he warned.

"You know what? I think I do actually," he taunted. Edgeworth let out a deep sigh and stood, straightening the collar of his suit jacket.

"Very well. If you want to act like a child, I'll treat you like one." Phoenix cocked his head to the side, staying still as he watched his old friend come closer. As Miles loomed over him, only then did he falter. He gave a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Uh, Miles? You got that scary look on your face that you use in court. Y-you know I was only joking, right?" he asked, trying to appear as innocent as possible.

"Believe me, I'm well aware. However, your little jokes aren't near as amusing as you may think. Don't worry, I'll give you something to laugh about." Before Wright could question him, he poked a single finger in his exposed armpit. He yelped and immediately slammed his arm to his side.

"You know what? You're right, I was being stupid and childish, I'll leave you alone now, I promise!" he rambled.

Edgeworth shook his head and tsked. "You will leave me alone. As soon as I teach you a lesson." When he took another step forward, Phoenix rose from his chair, standing behind it to use it as a shield.

"B-but you're usually so mature! I thought you'd be above something as childish as ti- as this!" he said, face turning bright red as he stuttered and failed to say the word. This only made Edgeworth's smirk grow.

"Normally I am. But you bring out the best in me Wright. Certainly a bit of immaturity is required to deal with you."

They stood there, just staring at each other for a solid 10 seconds. Phoenix's eyes darted to the side before he made a dash for the door. Miles easily caught him, arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him into his clutches.

"No no nohoho I'm sorry!" he giggled, shoving at his arm. Miles dug his fingers into his sides and he burst into bubbly laughter.

"For some reason, I don't believe you. You know, you're awfully cocky for someone who's so ticklish," he mused playfully. Phoenix's blush darkened and he covered his face with one hand.

"Shuhuhut uhuhup!"

"Why should I? You obviously can't make me in your state," he teased. He began kneading his soft belly and his laughter deepened and his thrashing increased. It was a bright and slightly goofy sound, and it was perfectly fitting for the ace attorney.

"Mihihiles dohohon't!" he whined through his frantic giggles.

"Don't what? Come on Wright, use your words," he goaded, one hand scratching up his ribs. The only response he got in return was a loud squeal. "Glad to see my memory is serving me well. Does Larry still abuse this knowledge?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"Yehehes okay? Nohohow quit ihihit!" he giggled, curling in on himself. His arms flailed about uselessly as Miles squeezed and prodded his belly. He snorted loudly and blushed profusely, hiding his embarrassed face in his hands.

Edgeworth barked out a laugh. "I forgot how you snort when you laugh too hard. How hilariously charming," he teased. Poor Phoenix was dying of embarrassment.

"Nohoho it's nohohot!" he argued, followed by another snort.

"Sure it is. And don't even get me started on this spot," he taunted, reaching up to scratch the nape of his neck. Phoenix arched his back with a shrill screech of laughter, leaning into Miles. He fell into a bubbly stream of giggles, not even bothering to fight back anymore. Not that he could get away even if he tried; Edgeworth was stronger than he looked.

"Still just as ticklish as when we were kids," he mused, shaking his head fondly. It was only when Phoenix started to hiccup through his hysterical laughter that he finally showed mercy.

He helped steady him as he regained his breath. "Yo- hic-you jeherk!" he scolded, cheeks still burning red. Miles rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know. I'm truly the worst," he joked along. They both chuckled.

"If you think I'm gonna leave you alone after that, you're wrong. I can't just let you get away with an attack like that! I have to annoy you twice as much now," Wright said, crossing his arms.

He merely shrugged, smirk growing. "In that case, I'll just have to tickle you twice as much."

Phoenix flinched and took a step back, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. "N-no you can't!"

"Oh can't I?" he asked, arching a brow. He cocked his head to the side in amusement. "I'd think again before testing my patience. Unless you're keen on finding out what I can really dish out," he warned, even winking at him. Phoenix whined and hid his face in his hands.

"I forgot how insufferable you can be," he grumbled.

"Well then you're really not going to like what I'm about to say."

Phoenix felt his heart both flutter and sink to the pit of his stomach at the same time. "What?" he asked, because the curiosity was going to eat him alive.

"I recall you admitting that you found all of this to be fun," he said with a triumphant smile. Wright's mouth gaped open, face turning pale before his blush came back in full force at the very accurate accusation.

"Wha- I- we were kids! Of course I liked it back then, it was playful roughhousing! I grew out of it!" he claimed, desperate to reclaim some of his dignity.

Edgeworth tutted, shaking his head. "Oh please, you know I'm too smart to believe that. You even went as far as to provoke me into action, resorting to your old methods in the hope that I would remember."

Phoenix was left speechless... Miles really hit the nail on the head with that one. He groaned, admitting defeat and flopping into the chair at the desk. He rest his head on the cool wood, wrapping his arms around his face to shield himself from Edgeworth's gaze.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of Wright. I find it rather amusing myself," he teased, sitting in the opposite chair. He looked up to glare at him.

"Of course you do."

"Oh please. Teasing's half of the fun. You told me so yourself."

Phoenix's eyes narrowed. "No I didn't." Then his eyes widened as he thought it over. "Wait, did I?" he asked aloud, more to himself than to Miles.

He shrugged. "No, but the fact you believed you could have only proves my point."

He let out a small, frustrated scream and slammed his head back down on the desk as Edgeworth's snide chuckling filled the air.

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || v

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. but that was a year ago - things are different now. and you have other things to worry about. things like moving halfway across the world for university; and moving in with the very boy who’d broken your heart. 

warnings: f!reader

wc: 4.3k

m.list | ch. 4 ↞ ch. 5↠ ch. 6

Life moved too quickly.

That was the only logical conclusion you could come to after the past few weeks. One minute you’re finding out you’ve got a scholarship to a university overseas, the next you’re spending as much time with your friends as you can without burning out, and then suddenly you’re standing at the airport, suitcase in hand and loved ones lined up in front of you like this is some fantasy RPG and you’re about to go into the final battle.

Your family had said goodbye before, but that didn’t seem to make it any easier. You’re the youngest, after all. The baby.

“Remember to call if you need anything, okay?” Your mother said, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I know, mum,” you smiled. “I love you.”

She sighed, pulling you into a hug. She said nothing more, letting the slight tremble in her arms say all that was in her heart.

Your father was next, ruffling your hair with a certain melancholy. “Be good, you hear?” He chastised. “Don’t talk to boys.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Dad…”

“I’m just saying, there are more important things to focus on,” he nodded sagely. “And don’t go causing any trouble.”

“I won’t,” you nodded. “Promise.”

Kaori was next, a certain mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Send me a photo of every pigeon you come across,” Kaori said.

You grinned at her. “Really?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “That way I’ll know you’re alive every day.”

You stuck your tongue out at her. “That’s a terrible plan.”

“Is it so wrong for me to want to check up on my little sister?” She teased. “I just want to make sure you won’t forget about me.”

“I won’t,” you laughed. “I’m sure you won’t let me.”

“Too right,” she grinned.

She gave you one good, tight hug. She, more than anyone else in your family, seemed to be the best at swallowing this whole situation. It was a relief to know that someone would be there to console your parents.

Finally, Amaya. She pouted at you, pulling you into a rough hug.

“Don’t forget to text me, okay?” Amaya mumbled, her arms tight around her shoulders. “Or I’ll knife you.”

“I know,” you chuckled, squeezing your grip on her waist. “I’ll keep you updated on everything, don’t worry.”

“You better,” she huffed, pulling away slowly.

Once, you might’ve dreamed of going to the same university together. But life had a funny way of taking your plans and crumbling them to dust in the palm of its hand.

But you were sure that no matter what, your friendship would hold steadfast. Amaya wasn’t the type of person to let things die so easily.

You couldn’t delay any longer.

As you walked through the gate, you wondered if Tooru had felt like this. If he’d been hounded by this unrelenting fear, doubt, and anxiety. If he’d also felt like throwing up. If he had, he’d covered it up well.

That thought didn’t do much to quell the lurching in your stomach.

Tokyo had once felt unbelievably far away. But California? That was a different beast.

✧ ✧ ✧

After a twenty-hour plane ride and two stop offs later, you’d come to the conclusion that airports, in fact, were the most unholy places known to man. Whose fault was it that airports were labyrinthine hellholes which were impossible to navigate?

By the grace of God, or perhaps as an apology for the godforsaken pilgrimage that was your flight, you managed to find the luggage pickup area with relative ease. By the time you managed to haul your suitcase off the baggage carousel you were ready to take a nap for the next three months.

You sighed, looking up at the clock hung high on the wall. 5:21 AM. Ew.

You felt a touch of pity for all the workers rostered on at such an ungodly hour.

Oh, and whoever was responsible for escorting you to your new ‘home’.

As you trundled through that godforsaken place, suitcase trailing behind you and carry-on slung over your shoulder, you were too tired to think and too tired to worry about who might be waiting for you.

That clawing anxiety had gripped you for the first hour or so of your flight, but it’d been completely replaced with other worries.

There’s only fiberglass separating you and an absurdly high fall… what happens if the plane goes down? What happens if one of the wings caught fire? What if one of the doors inexplicably ripped off mid-flight and sucked you out through a vacuum?

Regardless, you’d landed with your soul very much attached to your body – although that in itself presented you with a host of new problems.

You glared at the signs pointing in every conceivable direction, praying that your English was good enough to decrypt this mess for you.

Arrivals. That sounded right.

You dragged your feet in that direction with a big yawn, decorum be damned.

A thin crowd was gathered at the gate, waiting to greet the ragtag group of travellers who filtered through. Mothers, daughters, beloved friends, lovers…

You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes and the hope that you’d catch sight of some familiarity.

Oh.

There was your name on a placard, written in hiragana.

And holding it…

Shit.

Iwaizumi Hajime. He was glancing around the airport, seemingly a little bleary-eyed.

Your flight-or-fight response was well and truly activated. Had he really shown up at the airport at five in the morning just to pick you up?

Oh no. Oh God. That’s… not what you were expecting. Sure, you’d been told you’d be “picked up” from the airport, but you’d just expected some taxi service or something. Your mum had sorted that all out anyway – she’d insisted that you let her do that, at least, to give her some peace of mind.  

But she hadn’t told you it would be Iwaizumi picking you up. Were you supposed to have assumed that? Fuck.

With the inside of your cheek trapped between your teeth and a sinking feeling in your gut, you dragged yourself towards him.

Each step you took towards him just seemed to make him look even hotter. He was wearing a loose white shirt, but you could tell that he was built. Even more built than he’d been when he left. He hadn’t done his hair in that spiky Godzilla style he used to, and it’s longer than when you’d last seen him. He’s gotten a tan, too – an unfairly flattering golden tan.

And he was wearing a pair of fucking grey sweatpants.

I’m going to die, you thought. It’s official. I am the world’s biggest idiot, and Iwaizumi Hajime will be the cause of my death via cardiac arrest.

Was it too presumptuous to text your family your goodbyes?

He caught sight of you.

You made eye contact for the first time in a year.

What do I do? Your thought, cursing yourself out for being so… so like this.

But Iwaizumi just waved at you with a small smile on his face.

You closed the distance between the two of you with trepidation, scouring your mind for what to say to him.

Hi? How are you? It’s good to see you?

None of those felt quite right. You were much too tired for this. And he was much too hot—

“Hey,” he smiled, dropping his hand to his side.

“Hi,” you nodded, resisting the urge to bow. Should you bow? He is your senior… but this isn’t Japan. But that didn’t change the rules of etiquette, did it?  

“I can carry that, if you need,” he said, nodding towards your luggage.

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have refused on the basis of pride alone. But you’d just flown halfway around the world, and you were doing your best not to drool at the bloody Adonis standing before you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, handing him your carry-on. You managed to finish the hand off without your fingers brushing, much to your relief.

Iwaizumi observed you for a second, a touch of concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” you smiled at him weakly. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a lie.

“Understandably,” he chuckled, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket.

You frowned as he jangled them around one finger. “You drive?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I got my license back in Japan. Managed to transfer it over.”

“Huh,” you said. When had he learned to drive? That’d been happening right next door and you’d had no idea?  

“You ready?” He asked, looking at you over his shoulder as he turned around.

You nodded, tugging on the handle on your suitcase.

The two of you made your way to his car, which turned out to be a dingy-looking thing cobbled together with dull navy metal and rubber.

You said nothing as you packed the luggage into the boot, Iwaizumi doing most of the grunt work. Part of you felt bad, but you knew full-well that he had more strength in his right middle finger than you could ever dream of having.

He strolled around to your side of the car before you had time to remember which side of the road Americans drove on.

“Here you go,” he said. The asshole just had to open your door for you too, didn’t he?

You nodded your thanks, settling into your seat with a little more frustration than feasible.

He’d slipped into the driver’s seat as you finished buckling yourself in, and before you had time to take much of anything in, he was backing out of his parking lot.

You watched him from the corner of your eye.

He looked so… casual, doing this. The Iwaizumi you knew had never been behind the wheel of a car. And yet now, he’s moving like it’s second nature.

How much had you missed? So much must’ve happened while you were out of contact.

“Hey, uh… Iwaizumi?” You mumbled, clenching your fists in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for picking me up,” you said, chewing on your cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No problem,” he chuckled.

You felt like you should say something else. But you’re weren’t sure what. He seemed relatively calm, given the situation. Saying the wrong thing could potentially fuck that up.

“How was your flight?” He asked, gently making his way through the car park.

“Uh…” Was there a polite word for ‘awful’? “It was fine.” You shrugged. “I made it here in one piece, so…”

Iwaizumi chuckled. The sound made your stomach flip.

You leant back in your chair, closing your eyes with a sigh. You didn’t know how far away your apartment was. Fifteen minutes? Ten? An hour?

Your brain reeled with potential small-talk topics. There might be a lot of time to fill.

“Take a nap if you need to,” Iwaizumi said.

“Thanks,” you hummed.

Maybe he was aware that he was giving you an out. Maybe he had no idea.

But you were more than happy to take it regardless.

✧ ✧ ✧

A pre-made bed was waiting for you in your room. You blinked at it a few times, the brain-fog of a long flight still clouding your mind.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Iwaizumi said, leaning against your doorframe. “I just got you some sheets because I didn’t think you’ have the energy to sort all that out today.”

You’re going to cry. Cry, and then die.

“Do you need help unpacking?” He asked.

You turned around sharply at those words, waving your hands about. “Oh no, no… I’m fine.”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as if he was appraising you. He simply nodded. “Well, call out if you need me.”

“Yep!” You offered him an unbearably stretched smile.

“Alright,” he said. With that, he was gone.

You sighed, turning to your suitcase. It was laid on the floor, unopened.

Shit. This really was a big move, wasn’t it?

And, you’d moved in with Iwaizumi. Something you’d never expected – not like this, anyway.

Shaking that thought out of your head, you kneeled in front of your suitcase. Something about it felt more reverent than it had any right to. You unzipped it slowly, pushing back the battered red lid to reveal your belongings.

You bit the inside of your cheek, starting with the first layer. You’d packed your pyjamas on the top – a move you’d like to thank younger you for.

As you placed it in your lap, you gazed at the rest of your belongings crammed into your suitcase.

You hadn’t brought all that much. Mostly clothes that you thought would be appropriate for the Californian weather, a few knick-knacks and keepsakes that you felt particularly attached to, a handful of your favourite books, your polaroid camera…

So much had been left behind. You didn’t mind that, for the most part; but it still felt like you were abandoning a part of yourself. Everything you’d accumulated over the past nineteen years, just…

Maybe your parents would hold onto all your things. But it wouldn’t be remiss for them to throw them away.

It’s all just part of growing up. That’s what you told yourself – you had to change, move on and get over it.

If Tooru could do it, you could to. You had to.  

But now it felt like his shadow was hanging over you darker than ever. Part of your own journey had been dictated by him; if he hadn’t recommended you live with Iwaizumi, where would you be?

What was Iwaizumi even like now? Was he a good person? He’d been very nice and polite ever since you’d seen him at the airport, but…

Was he trying to be warm? Or was he keeping you at an arm’s length? Could your ‘friendship’ ever recover from… that?

You swallowed, running a hand over one of your dresses.

Honestly, you just wanted to go to sleep.

You didn’t want to leave the room because that meant you might bump into Iwaizumi. You didn’t want to unpack because you had the sneaking suspicion that it was going to make you feel like crying. You didn’t want to call anyone because you knew you didn’t have the energy to do so.

There was only one thing to do, then.

You managed to drag yourself towards your bed, hoisting yourself onto it with a grunt. You curled up on top of the sheets, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The ache in your eyes didn’t subside as your closed them, but there was nothing else to do.

Attempting to rest was better than nothing.

✧ ✧ ✧

A knock on your door.

You bolted upright, startled out of your uneasy slumber.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi’s voice was distant but distinctive.

“Hm?” You didn’t trust your own voice to hold up.

“You okay?”

You bit your lip. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

It wasn’t your best lie,

A long pause followed.

“No, you’re not.” His voice was soft, gentle. Not like what you’d expected.

Although, you weren’t even sure what that was.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Uh…” You swallowed roughly, crossing your legs. “Yeah. Sure.”

He needed no more prompting, letting himself in and leaning himself against the wall.

There was good distance between the two of you. You’re grateful for it.

“What’s wrong?” He looked genuinely concerned. Why, you didn’t know.

Nor did you know if you should actually tell him. There was admittedly no reason to; at this point in your life, he was just a roommate.

“It’s just…” You sighed, your mouth moving before your brain. “It’s a big move, you know? I don’t think I’m ready for it.”

You’d had this conversation over and over again, both with Tooru and with Amaya. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. It was the one thought you couldn’t escape, no matter how hard you tried to justify this whole thing to yourself.

“You’re more ready than you know,” he said softly. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I guess…”

“It’s not easy, but you can do it.” His tone was resolute, not harsh but firm. It almost makes you feel like he’s right. Almost.

“And…” He swallowed, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I’ll look out for you. You’re not alone.”

You weren’t quite sure what those words made you feel.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi.” Your voice is quiet enough to go unheard, but he smiled. It was only a little smile – one someone who hadn’t known him for so long might’ve missed – but it was genuine. You couldn’t tell if that was a good omen or a grim portent.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about this tonight,” he nodded, standing up straight. “You’re already exhausted, so you’ll only make it harder for yourself.”

You pouted at him, much to your own surprise. Unfortunately, he was right.

“Give me a moment,” he said suddenly, disappearing.

You sighed, lying back on your bed and closing your eyes.

It felt like you’d entered the Twilight Zone.

Maybe things would improve when you started uni. Then you’d have something else to think about that wasn’t just ‘oh God, I moved in with Iwaizumi Hajime and that was stupid, dumb, and a colossal mistake.’

Your instincts were begging you to book a flight and go straight home to Japan. Surely, you might be able to get into some university – sure, you missed the entrance exams, but perhaps…

Were you already chickening out? Tooru had moved halfway across the world entirely on his own, but he’d never once thought about turning back. And yet here you were, lying in your bed feeling like you were about to disintegrate just because your roommate happened to be someone you used to have feelings for.

God, that was pathetic. It was only day one.

“Here you go.”

You flinched, sitting up suddenly.

Iwaizumi stood at the side of your bed, holding a mug out to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded. As you took it from him, you peeked at the tea bag.

Your favourite. He’d made you your favourite tea. You took a tentative sip.

Shit.

“I hope you still like it that way,” he said, a touch of pink to his cheeks.

It reminded you of winter back home.

“I do.” You looked up at him, giving him a genuine smile.

He smiled right back, his face softening in that rare but stunning way you remembered.

You were a little proud of yourself for keeping it together.

“I, ah…” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, taking a few slow steps away from the bed. “I’m going to go to bed. I’ve got practice early tomorrow, so…”

You nodded.

As you watched him leave, closing your bedroom door on the way, you wondered if you should’ve asked him what his training was for.

But you just sipped your tea.

This really was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?

✧ ✧ ✧

By the time you woke up in the morning, Iwaizumi was out. That was something of a relief. Iwaizumi not being around meant you could explore the apartment without the fear of bumping into him.

So, you took the opportunity, sneaking out of your room and taking stock of the layout of your apartment. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room attached to a kitchen… it wasn’t big, but you weren’t about to complain.

It’s quite a change from the family home you grew up in, but the change is a little exciting. It’s certainly liveable, and you know your parents are grateful for the fact rent was affordable enough.

The apartment was well-tended and clean. You weren’t sure if he’d cleaned it up before you’d arrived – which wasn’t unlikely – or if he usually kept it this neat – which also wasn’t unlikely.

A few photos hung on the wall, some with people you knew, some you didn’t. There were a few photos of the Seijoh team, exhibiting various degrees of chaos. Some others included people that you recognized as his friends from high school, and there were several of himself, Tooru, Hanamaki and Matsukawa. 

Other photos were a total mystery, though. Probably friends from university, a mix of men and women you didn’t recognize.

You didn’t let yourself look at them for too long; your mind was concocting too many questions, too many narratives that made your gut feel all funny.

The only other thing of particular interest was the television and the DVD stand next to it, stuffed full of both Japanese and English movies. Most people streamed these days, but Iwaizumi had always been a bit of a traditionalist when it came to technology.

Regardless, the small size of the apartment meant there wasn’t all that much to explore.

You slunk back to your room after a close inspection of the bathroom, which you decreed as ‘clean enough’.

By the time you passed through the threshold of your room, a quiet blanket of exhaustion settling over you. Jetlag really was a piece of shit.

You tossed yourself on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe you could call someone. But you weren’t sure how the time zones lined up. Your parents wouldn’t be happy with you if you woke them up at some ungodly hour, and Kaori needed the rest. Amaya might be up, but you didn’t want to stress her out…

Tooru was an option. He wasn’t that far away in the grand scheme of things, and he might’ve been able to offer some advice…

But he was probably busy. And you’d already bothered him enough.

God, why were you so frustrated? Was it exhaustion? Anxiety? How difficult it was to wrap your head around the situation? You just wanted to sleep for a week.

Before you knew it, your eyes fluttered closed, and you drifted into an uneasy nap.

✧ ✧ ✧

A firm, steady knock cut through your barely conscious mind.

You blinked rapidly, frowning. Shit, did you have another nap? That better not become a habit.

With a groan (and a great deal of strain) you managed to get off your bed, dragging yourself to your door.

You opened it with trepidation.

Iwaizumi stood on the other side with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of yakisoba with chopsticks poking out of it in the other.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, eyes flicking to the ground, “you didn’t come out to eat, and I didn’t see any dishes in the sink, so…”

“Ah,” you swallowed. “Right.”

You hadn’t eaten yet. All day.

“Thanks,” you nodded, taking the bowl from him. To his credit, it looked good; plenty of vegetables, and nothing seemed to be burnt. That might be a low bar, but you digressed.

“Would you like to eat at the table?” He asked.

You resisted the urge to stare at him.

Eat at the table? Like… like… a family? Did roommates do that?

“Sure,” you nodded. You’re not really sure why – some fear of hurting his feelings, probably.

But you tottered after him, hoping to God that your stomach would settle enough to allow you to eat.

Iwaizumi settled himself down at the table, his seat already prepared with a glass of water, a bowl, and a pair of chopsticks.

He set the glass of water in his hand down opposite from him, in what seemed to be your designated spot.

You slipped yourself into the seat, taking note of just how uncomfortable it was. Affordability over comfort – a student mantra, apparently.

“How was practice?” You asked. You just wanted to fill the silence. Once upon a time, silence between the two of you wouldn’t have made you feel like crawling out of your own skin.

“It was good,” he nodded. He didn’t seem like he was trying to be terse of anything – Iwaizumi was just a man of succinct, short sentences.

“I’m assuming it’s volleyball?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

You took a small bite of your yakisoba. It reminded you of home. “Are you still a wing spiker?” You asked.

“Mhm,” Iwaizumi nodded. “Although there’s a fair bit of competition for the spot.”

“Really?” You asked. You couldn’t imagine a volleyball team where Iwaizumi wasn’t heralded as a magnificent player.

“A lotta guys wanna be the ace,” he grinned.

You smiled. That made sense.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you both focused on your meals. Your appetite was voracious, now – you hadn’t even realised how hungry you were until you’d started eating.

“Did you leave the apartment today?” Iwaizumi asked, making you jump.

“Ah, no,” you shook your head. “I was worried about getting lost.”

“Fair.”

Another silence settled over you, a more pensive expression taking over Iwaizumi’s face.

He was completely unreadable. Probably because you knew nothing about him. Not anymore.

“Would you like me to show you around tomorrow?” He asked.

You blinked at him, completely blindsided.

“We could get lunch,” he offered.

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to process the muddle of feelings inside you.

What on earth was going on? Perhaps he was just reaching out a friendly hand. And, chances were, he felt some kind of duty to protect you.

“Sure,” you smiled. “Sounds great.”

You weren’t stupid enough to push away the only ally you had in this strange new world. Hopefully, other friends would come. But for now, it was just you and Iwaizumi in this little apartment, trying to make this arrangement work.

You had to make it work.

You’d find a way.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: aaaa thank you for your support so far! sorry this one’s a bit choppy, but i think you’ll enjoy chapter 6 (i hope sfdlkdfj)

[willywonderfan]

Willy is dead.

Willy: (sings about being alive.) It is good day to be not dead!

The Janitor: Pow! (Stabs a broom through Willy's heart.) You are dead!

Willy: I am dead! (Falls to the ground.)

The Janitor: Heh heh heh heh...

(Tito comes by, doing a dance.)

The Janitor: Oh shit. (Throws his broom away.)

(Tito sees that Willy's dead.)

Tito: (Gasp) Willy is dead.

Willy: Yes, I am dead!

Tito: Why is Willy dead!?

The Janitor: I don't know.

Willy: I think it was-

Tito and The Janitor: Shhh, You are dead!

Willy: O.K! (Goes back to being dead.)

(Knighty Knight enters)

Knighty Knight: What's up you two, (pulls his sword out.) who up for a- Gah, what the bloody hell just happened!?

Tito and The Janitor: Willy is dead.

Knighty Knight: Willy is dead!?

Tito: Correct.

(An invisible audience cheer Knighty Knight for saying the right answer.)

Tito: So, did either of you see the murderer?

Knighty Knight and The Janitor: Nope, sorry mate.

Tito: I will find him, I will capture him, and no one will ever die again!

Knighty Knight: Oh, well that's nice.

The Janitor: I'm damn proud right now!

(They both start clapping and Freddy enters the scene.)

Freddy: Ateeeennnntion! Willy is dead.

Tito: We know!

Freddy: Who killed him?

Tito: We don't know!

Freddy: I will find clues! (Starts looking around and finds The Janitor's broom.) What's that, a weapon? That thing is why Willy is dead!

Everyone else: Willy is dead!?

Freddy: Yes, he died!

Everyone else: (Gasp)

Arty from a far: Incoming!!!

Freddy: Ahhh!!!

(Freddy gets ran over by Arty's ambulance. Arty rushes out to heal Willy.)

Arty: Everyone move now! (Kisses Willy's forehead.)

(Willy starts ascending to Heaven but is pulled back to the ground because he isn't really dead.)

Arty: In my medical opinion Willy is dead!

Knighty Knight: Arty, what happened?

Arty: My professional opinion, Willy was killed!

Knighty Knight: Oh God!

Arty: I don't think it's anything to worry about.

Knighty Knight: Well, now what?

Plushtrap: Clipity clop mother fuckers!

Tito: Oh, come on...

Plushtrap: Look at this, Willy's freaking dead! What do you think of that? Uh?...

Tito: Yes, Plushtrap.

Plushtrap: Yeah?

Tito: Go home!

(Vanny waves to Plushtrap from her car.)

Plushtrap: Oh, come on! (Plushtrap enters the car to go home.) Fricking unbelievable, no seriously you all suck!

(They drive home but crashed because rats ate the car brakes.)

Plushtrap: Ahhh!!!

Tito: Okay, let's get back to the point!

(Willy starts poking his dead clone with a stick.)

Willy: I think my clone is dead!

Everyone: That was just a clone!?

Arty: (Gasp) Plushtrap, I will heal you! (He rushes to heal Plushtrap, but is blown up.)

Willy: Seriously, who killed my clone!?

(Pigpatch enters while drinking bourbon.)

Pigpatch: It was me!

Everyone: (Gasp)

Pigpatch: Yes, I did it like this.

(Pigpatch shoots Knighty Knight in the forehead.)

Knighty Knight: Ahhh!!!

Pigpatch: Woopty doo!!!

( Everyone else is staring at Knighty Knight's dead body in horror.)

Pigpatch: That's a joke lads.

(Everyone else starts laughing.)

Pigpatch: It was (burp) him! (Points to the Janitor.)

Everyone else: (Gasp)

The Janitor: How did you know!?

Pigpatch: I didn't! (Burps) that was a joke too. (Starts drinking bourbon rapidly until he dies of alcohol poisoning.) Oh, I'm dead!

The Janitor: (Laughs maniacally) That's right, it was me!

Tito: You monster!

Willy: But why!?...

The Janitor: Because you're skinny boy, and another thing you're ugly.

(The two start arguing while Tito's just wondering what's even going on anymore.)

Willy: Janitor!

The Janitor: Danm it Willy, fuck off! You are dead!

Willy: No, you! (Shoots The Janitor with Pigpatch's gun.) You are dead, not big surprise!

Tito: Well that was idiotic, I'm gonna jump off this building now. Watch and learn! (He jumps off the roof, to his death.)

Willy: I am alive, is nice. ( it pans out to show that the entire thing was a play, and that everyone's fine.)

Willy to the audience: Yes, this is stupid!

[nightshadedawn]

Writing prompts!!

Select one of the prompts and a ship and I'll write 300 words for it! I'll keep this open for a week!

Prompts are broken up into categories and further numbered within those categories to help everyone quickly find prompts, so please either give me the category and number of prompt or the prompt itself.

Fuck

"Fuck you." "You know what, [name], I've been trying but you haven't been cooperating." "What."

"I don't hate you." "You bought an entire fucking island to avoid me so we wouldn't be roommates our second year of college." "It obviously didn't work out well because we still ended up in Art History together."

"I'm fucked, I'm screwed. I'm gonna faaaaiillll."

"Well, fuck me and leave me to bleed."

"You're crazy." "Yeah, I'm fucking insane!"

"I have fucking questions!"

"You sir- are fucking hilarious."

"I love you but you're a fucking idiot."

"Love- fuck off."

"I'm cute as all fuck, but I'm an asshole if you piss me off."

"Insomnia's a real fucker, you know?"

"Fuck it- just- breathe! Breathe, damnit!"

"You and your bisexual ass can get the fuck out of here."

"Let's fuck the world over, 'cause that's all we're good for."

"Fuck it. We're not done yet."

"Occasionally I tell people to go fuck themselves just to mess with their puny lives."

"I didn't want anyone else. Fuck it, I just wanted YOU."

"You're a fucking bisexual disaster. Don't at me, brah."

"I'm just a sad, mostly human being that doesn't know what they're doing with their life." "Only mostly?" "Granny honestly got it on so who knows what the fuck Mom is."

"I don't mind if you call me a freak, just don't say it to my face. That's really rather rude." "You're a fucking idiot." "Yes, I've been told."

"I'm DONE! I'm done acting happy, I'm done pretending to be okay, I'm DONE playing this game. I am so. Fucking. DONE. With shits like you! Don't ever come near me again."

"The only reason I kept fighting was because of the people I cared about! And you took them all away from me! I'm not done fighting yet! I'm not done fucking fighting until your body is rotting in the fucking ground!"

"Giving a fuck what other people think about you is like giving them control of your life."

"Please don't pretend to give a fuck about me. I know better now."

"They said I can't." "Well, fuck 'em." "What?" "You're not weak. It's your life. Fuck 'em. Do what you want."

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you. Which is to say I don't. I can't. I'm weak as all fuck."

"I'm as cute as a cucumber. Wait, fuck, that's a kiwi."

Shit

"When you're a sarcastic piece of shit but people keep falling in love with you anyway."

"My sister is a huge piece of shit." "Awe, that's not nice. What'd the shit ever do to you?"

"Shit aside, this isn't the worst plan put into motion."

"Literally no one cares about that shit."

"I'm not a bitch, I'm an asshole. Guys still want to screw me even if all I spew is shit."

"Congratulations! You're in deep shit."

"You've shown great aptitude for bullshitting."

"Shit... I don't... I don't know why I'm crying... Just please don't leave me alone..." "Never."

"I'm one of those people that people regularly tell me not to do stupid shit and I do it anyway."

"I've lived my life watching through windows. I'm ready to go break shit now."

"I promise, I'm okay."

"You expect me to believe that bullshit!?"

"I'm just getting a little tired of having to deal with this shit!"

"Hey, I'm kinda feeling like shit tonight. You think you could... come cuddle me?"

"I don't see myself as someone who breaks promises, spills secrets, or tells lies. I'm not a great person like that statement would suggest. I just don't talk to people enough, and when I do, I don't give enough of a shit to care."

Asshole

"'Cause sometimes, people are just assholes no one else cares about."

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to-" "Now why don't I believe you?" "Because I'm an arrogant prick and an asshole." "At least you're aware of your short comings."

"No, I'm not getting high off lemonade. What are you drinking, bitch?"

"If you're not sucking cock for the fun of it, I don't know what you're doing with your life."

"Ten out of ten. Would bang again." "Please stop." "Love you, babe."

Forget

"I haven't quite forgiven you for that." "No, I don't expect you did."

"The most unforgettable stories are also the most unbelievable, don't you know?"

"I don't need you to hold me like it's okay to forget. I need you to hold me like it's okay to remember, to hold on, and then to let go."

"Sometimes people forget... I'm not normal."

"The world is a wonderful, beautiful, amazing place. That's why it doesn't matter if in thirty years, no one remembers us."

"I want you to remember what it felt like to fight against me."

"Do you remember what it was like when we were young and alright?"

"Do you remember what I promised? That we'd always be together. I don't break promises. Not to anyone, but never to you. As long as you'll have me, I'll be right here. So please, let me stay."

"I want you to remember this feeling; it will follow you all your life."

"Why don't you remember ANYTHING I said!?"

Pain

"Don't you ever wish we could ever be something different? Like, I don't know. Something less hellish?" "I don't know. Sometimes I welcome the pain."

"I just get so restless, and I can't stop moving, and when I have to sit down and focus... it's really hard because I just want to be up. It's genuinely painful when it strikes in the middle of class or something."

"Pain is what made me human."

"You don't understand all the pain we went through to get where we are now."

"I will break, I will burn, but I will not let you hurt me."

"Listen to me and this broken heart of mine."

"It's not your fault you've been hurt before."

"I don't enjoy hurting people." "Could'a fooled me."

"Does it hurt?" "Always."

“It’s not me you have to worry about killing you if you hurt our daughter, it’s my wife.” “Oh, honey, you know me so well.”

"I knew from the beginning I'd never be able to hurt you."

"I shouldn't care. Caring only hurts."

"Sometimes when people get hurt, they shut themselves away. They push away people and the things that hurt them. But I think it's more interesting when they fight back. Revenge is a bitter tale, but it's a more interesting story told."

"I don't want to fall in love. Falling means you get hurt. I want to grow. I want to grow to love someone, see them at their smallest and grow into their mightiest. I want to grow to love, because when something grows, it never stops growing."

"My head feels heavy and my heart just hurts."

"Don't stress the small stuff. It only makes your brain hurt."

"In the end, we were made of blood that could be spilt and bones that could be broken."

"'Broken,' he'd promised. And 'broken' he'd become."

Death

"I have been scared of many things. Surprisingly, my death has never been one of them."

"They're both very strong willed, bull headed, "death to all those who defy me" kind of people."

"Even the bravest close their eyes when facing Death."

"Death seems like the best option right now." "No. No, it does not."

"Touch my phone and you accept Death as your new best friend."

"You tend to just find death everywhere you go. Isn't that a problem?"

"Death is not a good look on you, honey."

"I've got about a hundred years worth of death on my hands and isn't that great?"

"Death comes to all those who wait for it."

"Murder, death, and mayhem are my favorite things to write about."

"You are an angel of death by association. This is your duty."

"I hope you've got some kind of special armor under that dress, 'cause with the way you're surrounded, if you don't, you're gonna die."

"We're gonna die." "That's the plan."

"How many times must she die before you're satisfied?!"

"This time, I'm not letting you die for me."

"Someone's gonna die tonight, but it ain't gonna be me."

"Fine. I'll let you die. I'll just have to bring you back to life."

"But why'd you have to die?"

"If I die, it's officially Your Fault."

"Welp. time to die again,"

"No! No! You don't get to die! You don't get to die and leave me alone!"

"Don't ask me that! Don't do that!" "Why?" "Because everyone knows that when you talk about the future right before a big battle, you're gonna die!"

"When it comes down to it, I want you to make sure I die."

"How did you save them?" "Easy- I died."

"I would live and die for you, but I'd never kill."

"We are not gods. But I shall die like one anyway."

"There was a time when I swear I was just waiting to die."

"I'd rather destroy myself than let her die for me."

"The truth is- I'm just tired of watching you die."

"I've died so many times, and I'm still falling for you."

"I am so done with children." "You have nine." "And I would die for each and every one of them."

"It's a miracle in itself that you haven't died yet."

"The explosion killed thousands. How are you alive?"

"You bother me." "I can't imagine why." "Surely it has nothing to do with the fact you've killed hundreds of people including my family. That couldn't possibly be it."

"I trust you, but the question is, do you trust me?" "I trust you not to get yourself killed." "I think you might be asking a little too much."

"How are you going to tell your sister you killed her best friend?" "I'm not." "That's no way to start a relationship."

"You are legit trying to kill me." "Oh darling, if I really wanted to kill you, I wouldn't be trying. You'd be dead already."

"I'm pretty sure I killed someone. But then again, I could be wrong."

"I'm going to kill someone." "Oh dear god, please be me."

"Ohhhhh, my sister's gonna kill me for this one."

"One time my sister tried to tell me I wasn't right. Valid, I wasn't. But I still tried to kill her anyway."

"Do what you will. But don't come crying to me if it kills you."

"Oh god, just kill me now." "As you wish."

"The next time somebody tries to kill, me, I'm gonna scream." "I should hope so?"

"This child threatened to kill me." "She threatened to burn the entire city to the ground. I don't see what your point is."

"We are all dead and it’s your fault!"

"Oh look. The sun is shining, nobody is dead- today's gonna be a good day."

"I swore I wouldn't do it again. But here I am. Wishing all of them dead."

"I guess being dead wasn't good enough for you. You wanted to erase me from history too."

"Who even knows if we'll be alive tomorrow?"

"What story did they tell you?" "That'd I'd never make it out alive."

"And if I refuse?" "Well, *chuckle* don't suppose you'll get out of this alive."

"You just need to survive."

"The world is a cruel, unfair place. But it's the one we live in, so we gotta do what we can to survive."

"You've done your best to destroy me, but I survived all along."

"I survive because there is nothing else I could do."

"The world didn't want me. But I survived anyway."

"I think I'm more surprised that you're telling me this than the fact that you survived it."

"We exist in this time and place. This isn't the end."

"You hide it in the corners of your mind like it doesn't exist."

"Once upon a time, there was a girl. A regular, ordinary type of girl. The kind of girl... that no longer exists."

"In any other world, we would not exist."

"Hell exists in ways you don't expect it to."

"I exist in your eyes, but not in your life."

"You weren't supposed to exist."

"I suppose that magic exists. In some way or another."

"Time is inconsequential. Unreal. It doesn't exist. All that exists is the here and now."

"The world only exists the way we want it to."

"The world need not know you exist. More importantly, the world need not know you exist as you do."

"Who's dying this time?"

"I've existed long enough to know this is a very bad idea."

"We only sort of exis

"There's something beautiful in the way you look at the world like nothing else exists."

"We exist to be tempered into impossible weapons."

"I am aware of worlds and things that should not exist."

"The difference you have to learn about the past and future is that the future gives us a reason to keep living... the past only exists to hold us back."

"You are the bane of my existence." "I'm the bane of existence in general."

"How many times have I thought about dying? Too many."

My entire life you've made me cry. All you're doing now is making me cry again.

"My room's a mess. Kinda like my life. But nobody's complaining about that."

"My life was wonderful. But it was better without you in it."

When life gives ya lemons, we find someone who has vodka and makes martinis.

"She's living her life in monochrome."

"There are some things in life that just get you down. And then there's her."

"I've been wrong all my life. This is just another instance, isn't it?

"Home is not a place. It's a feeling. Feeling of contentment, life, respect, safety. That is home."

"I live off of two things: spite and validation. I live to spite those who say I can't, but I need validation from those who say I can."

"Please don't live for tomorrow. Live for today."

"My favorite kind of people are the ones who live for themselves, and not for anyone else."

I knew we'd live forever.

"There's not enough time on Earth to see everything. We could go back a billion years and live every moment up to now, and even then we wouldn't see everything." "Nah. But with you, I'd like to try. I feel like I could do anything with you by my side."

[one-boring-person]

Too Bad, Sweetheart. (Part One)

The Expendables x reader

Warnings: swearing, death, gun use, injury, alcohol consumption

Context: after an incident on a job, the reader is "let go" from the team, only for them to realise they want them back.

A/n: I hope this isn't as bad as I think it is 😅

This reached the "long post" limit thing, so I'm uploading it in two parts

Masterlist

After having spent years in a profession where I often have people trying to kill me in my own home, my mind has easily become attuned to when something is wrong, and right now, something is definitely off. Standing before the door of my dingy apartment, I feel a frown crease my brow as I look over the battered door, my hand instinctively moving to the small of my back, where my pistol is tucked into my jeans, as it always is, the other hand going to take hold of the door handle. I pause where I am, uncaring of how stupid I must look, listening closely to the area around me, tuning out all external sounds except the telltale ones of some person coming towards me. 

There's nothing, only heavy silence.

Not quite trusting the thick quiet, I try the handle, only half surprised when it's unlocked, the door cracking open with a soft noise. Cursing internally, I push it open completely, making sure no one is stood behind it as I wait just before the threshold in case there's someone on the other side. Nothing happens, so I step inside, drawing my gun and holding it by my side, cocking it with one hand.

Swinging the door closed behind me, I stand in the darkness for a moment, allowing my eyes to swiftly adjust, sweeping the room as I do so, easily locating the intruder. A figure is sat, facing away from me, on my worn old couch, the silhouette easily recognisable to me, even from the little I can see. Instantly, I feel the low burn of anger bite at the back of my throat, my face falling into a state of blankness as I make my way over to him, having made sure the rest of the room is safe, my steps slow and soft, though I know he is aware of my presence. To my surprise, however, he doesn't move. Not even when I press the cold muzzle of the gun up against his skull.

"Get out." I order him, keeping my voice level and cold as I hold the gun to his head.

"And "hello" to you, too." The familiar voice snarks back at me, his British accent as thick as the last time I heard it.

"I'm not gonna ask again." I ignore his greeting, pushing lightly with the gun until his head tips forwards slightly.

Slowly, the man stands, turning to face me, my gun pointed directly at his forehead as he trains scrutinizing eyes on me.

"You ain't looking so good, (Y/n). Out of work?" He questions, reaching over to flick on the desk light on the coffee table, casting us both in a warm light. Lee's features seem softer like this, though there's a harshness behind his eyes.

At his comment, I feel a poisonous scowl etch itself onto my face, my anger flaring up now. My grip on the gun tightens.

"Get out." I repeat, my voice strained now as I hold back my seething fury.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" He scoffs, stepping away from my gun and going over to the wall, turning on the main light.

"That's generally what a gun is used for." I reply, keeping the weapon trained on him.

Lee shrugs, leaning against the wall.

"In my experience, it's always more of a scare-tactic." The mercenary remarks, before he gestures to the room around us, "This is a bit of a downgrade."

Again, I feel myself start to seethe, my muscles going tight, his comments starting to rile me up.

"Get. The fuck. Out." I snap, nodding to the door, clenching my jaw tightly.

"Easy, it was just an observation." Lee furrows his brow, "We need to talk."

"Like hell we do." I scoff, scowling harder.

"Yeah, we do actually."

"What makes you think I want to talk?" I practically snarl, fed up with his pestering.

"Not much, doesn't mean we're not gonna." He shrugs again, a smirk playing briefly at the corners of his mouth, "We need you back on the team."

Silence settles on us. A look of disbelief crosses my face, followed by outrage, then anger, before settling on cynical amusement. I can't stop the sharp, dry laugh that escapes me.

"Do you, now?" I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the rolling anger in my gut.

"Yeah, we've got a job that we're gonna need your expertise on. We thought about others, but Barney insisted it was you. I know you left and all-" He starts, watching me hopefully, only for me to interrupt him.

"Hold on, I left? Last I checked, you assholes fired me." I growl, unbelievably angry now.

"Err, well, yeah, but we made a mistake. We need you back, (Y/n), we've gotta do this, and we need you to help. Barney wants to take you on again. He regrets letting you go, and so do the rest of us. We miss you, (Y/n). Please come back." Lee nearly pleads with me, stepping forwards.

"Give me a break, Christmas. What makes you think I want to go with you? After what you all did to me?" I bite back, gesturing around myself, "You think you can break into my "downgraded" apartment, tell me I look like shit and ask if I'm "out of work" after everything that happened? Jesus, Christmas, did you guys get gassed or something?"

He's speechless. Blinking, he stares at me, fumbling for words.

"Sure, at one time, that might have been banter. Maybe we'd have joked about it, and we'd have teased each other. But now?" I laugh wryly, "Not in your wildest dreams, Christmas."

Again he struggles to find words, an occurrence I remember being scarce, the Brit always having something to say.

"Now, get the hell out of my apartment before I shoot. And no, I won't hesitate." I order him, nodding to the door again.

With a sigh, Lee casts me one last look, before he goes to the door and steps out, clearly defeated.

*

Gunfire pelts the air around me, my own gun spitting back at my attackers as I peek out from behind the fallen crate, my ears ringing from the barrage of sound. A wound at my hip bleeds profusely, a bullet somehow having managed to get past my body armour and to skin, leaving me with an injury that'll most likely scar.  At this moment, I don't care, my attention focused on the targets across the room, adrenaline making it impossible to feel too much pain in any case, allowing me to take out the enemies with relative ease. To my left, I can hear Toll and Caesar shouting at each other, the latter bringing out one of his heavier guns as they chase a unit of soldiers only a nearby hallway, leaving me alone in the room with the other killers.

Gritting my teeth, I feel the clip come to an end, meaning I have to drop back behind cover and reload, swiftly unfastening the magazine. Throwing it aside, I go to take up a new one, only to realise I'm totally out, leaving me with my pistol and a couple of knives. I swing the rifle onto my back, taking out my pistol and cocking it, before I lean back out of safety, shooting a couple of shots.

All of them hit, leaving me in an empty room, my breathing hard and ragged as I try to recover. Leaning back against the crate, I nearly have time to catch my breath again before the gunfire starts again. 

This time, it's only from one gun, a handheld pistol of sorts, probably like mine, the owner not shooting at anything in particular. Frowning, I glance around, my eyes widening as I see who it is.

It's our target, Pierce Fenwick, the rogue mercenary stepping into the centre of the room with a smirk, his eyes on mine. Confused, I raise my gun, ready to shoot if he does, painfully aware of my orders to keep him alive. They'd stressed this: keep the target alive, he's needed for questioning. I had no problem with this, but I'm still wary of him.

The final shot ricochets off of the walls, leaving the room in silence again, the report ringing out around the space. 

"I know you're there. You might as well come out." Fenwick calls out, his smirk evident in his voice, "I'm not gonna shoot."

Not quite believing him, I wait a couple of minutes, unsure of what to do.

"Come on, I know you need me, so I'll go quietly." He tries again, his conviction finally persuading me to hesitantly stand and face him.

"Ah, there you are." He grins mockingly, "Here to get me?"

Staying quiet, I edge forwards, my gun aimed at his head.

"Too bad, sweetheart. I don't intend on going anywhere. At least not in this life." With that, he lifts his own gun, pressing it against his forehead. 

I have time to widen my eyes before the gunshot tears through the quiet, leaving me standing in front of a collapsing body.

Instantly, horror fills me, dread and despair flooding my being as I step forwards, only to hear a pair of sharp intakes of breath behind me. Spinning on my heel, I see Barney and Lee standing there, Toll, Caesar and Gunnar quickly joining them. All of them carry shocked faces.

"What the fuck have you done?!" Barney finally manages, his tone low and laced with fury.

Confused, I glance between them and the body, only now realising what it looks like. Eyes widening, I turn back to them, raising my hands.

"I didn't shoot him! He shot himself!" I try to argue, but it's already too late.

The boys shoot me foul looks as they file past, heading to the body to see if there's any way of recovering him. Finding none, they turn to me, scowl in place.

"Nice one, (Y/n)." Gunnar growls, walking away.

"What? I didn't do anything!" I try to reply, only for the others to step past me, all except Barney, who stops before me.

"We're not blind, or stupid. You've just cost us the entire job, and that's a lot of money. We had specific orders to keep him alive, and you disobeyed them." Barney sighs, his expression furious, "We'll fly you back, but once you're there get your stuff from the hangar."

My mouth falls open as he leaves me there, not quite able to understand what just happened.

Part Two

[i-make-questionable-choices]

And Then There Were Two

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Blood, Injury, Character Death (alluded to).

Word Count: 1,655

Summary: Regardless of how hard Dean tries to keep everyone safe, some things are still out of his control.

A/N:I have been sitting on this one since fucking January, it was complete, it was edited and for whatever reason my brain was like: don't post it. So here I am finally overcoming that bullshit to tell you that one: I am alive. And two: this is going to be the start of a crap load of angsty oneshots because this is the first square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card: Amputation. As always, please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!

“Y/N!”

Being weightless was strange, your stomach lurched as your body was whipped backwards. It was almost like being on a rollercoaster when the seatbelt wasn’t super snug and you kinda got jostled around a bit.

Except this time wasn’t just a tiny bit scary. This time was terrifying.

You hit the rocks with a sickening crunch, and there was no doubt in your mind that you had broken most of your ribs. You could almost declare yourself lucky -  the angle at which you had hit the wall had saved your head from being crushed like an empty soda can; and you simply tumbled down to the ground - almost.

The rocks in this area were prone to crumbling, and a net had long been installed on the cliff face to keep any of the loose cracks formed by erosion from breaking off completely and served as just an extra second for anything below.

When you had collided with the wall, however, the weight of your body sliding against the rocks had severed the net.

And the boulders came crashing down.

“No!”

Deans second cry of anguish was accompanied by the agonized screech of the burning wendigo; Sam had managed to get close enough with the blow torch in that brief moment of chaos to set the monster alight.

It was as though hell were raining down on you, the dust from rock hitting rock eluding your eyes as you tried to heave yourself up and out of the way, only for a softball sized chunk to hit you in the back and send you sprawling since more.

And then you couldn’t move.

The pain was unbelievable.

A screech ripped through you, loud enough to be heard as the final boulder hit the ground with a deafening crash. Loud enough to make Deans heart freeze in his chest.

Loud enough to make Sam’s drop into his stomach.

Their safety disregarded, the pair rushed towards where they had last seen you, shoving what rocks they could to the side with hysterical strength.

If Sams heart had dropped to his stomach before, he didn’t know where it was when he saw you.

The back of your shirt was tattered, soiled with blood and grime from the rocks where it had scraped across. One particularly large gash where the small chunk of rock had hit you.

As he took in the limpness of your form, he barely noticed Dean come to his side, trying to take in what neither of their minds wanted to accept that they were seeing.

Your arm, from the middle of your forearm and down, was pinned under one of the largest boulders from the collapse.

Already there was blood trickling towards you, small snakes leaving the shelter of the rock to pool against your face.

Dean threw himself against the rock, unable to grasp that even with the two of them, the rock that pinned you was simply too large to be moved.

Sam was too shaken to stop his brother, tentatively, he brushed your hair out of your eyes, relieved to feel the faint fluttering of your breath against his skin, and to see your eyes closed, you were, at the very least, not in pain.

He looked up at his brother.

Dean had collapsed against the boulder, in the faint moonlight, Sam could see tears budding in the corners of his eyes, mimicking those he felt himself.

“Dean-”

He stopped himself, loathing the way his voice cracked, hating the resignation to the inevitable.

“I know.”

Sam wondered if he hated that even more; Dean would always protest when any plan of theirs put one of you in harms way. He would always insist that there could be more options, even if that might drag things out so long as you and Sam were safe.

They both new there were no alternatives here.

Dean crouched beside you, shrugging off his jacket, then his flannel, the former of which he covered you with and the later of which he began to wrap around your arm. Accepting the stick from his brother he looped into the fabric, finishing off the tourniquet.

Neither brother bothered to check the time to ensure it didn’t stay on to long. There was no point.

Hesitantly, Sam retraced his steps to where he had dropped his knife. It had fallen from his hand as he ran towards you. When he had first gotten it he had appreciated the sedation at the end. Not to much to make it stick itself in a monster and not want to pry out, but enough to bite through the bones.

He hated that now, even though he knew he should be grateful, it was their only way of getting you out from that boulder.

Dean had hardly moved when he returned, still crouched over you, but one hand now cradled your cheek while the other rested underneath your head as if to protect you from the hard ground.

Sam could hardly keep his voice from cracking when he addressed his brother.

“You’re gonna have-”

“Don’t.”

Deans voice was so final, so flat, that Sam sagged from the power of but one word.

Without Sam having to finish, Dean moved his hands to steady you, one resting on the back of your shoulder, the other one your mid-back. The spurt of blood at the first saw of the knife was sickening, and Dean had to turn away lest he throw up. His heart seized in his chest as you tensed under him, and he steeled himself to hold you down to keep your thrashing at bay.

Your eyes shot open first, darting about before they fixed on his face, then on Sam’s blade that was sawing through your upper arm. As your body lurched, Dean prepared himself for a scream, only to have you vomit what little snack you had eaten before the hunt, and they pass out once more.

The sound Sams blade made as it sawed through your bone was spine chilling and part of Dean was relieved when it was over, the other part was even more inclined to vomit. 

 Barely seconds later, your body shifted as the knife severed the last of your skin and what was left of you arm slumped towards the ground.

Sam, who had discarded his own flannel alongside Dean, reached it over and wrapped it around and over the stump; he too could feel a sickness rising his stomach, the reality of what he did hitting him like a freight train.

As Dean scooped you up, gently maneuvering you over his shoulder, he met Sams eyes for the first time since the rock slide. Just like himself, Sam had silent tears racing down his cheeks, despair visible in the depths of his eyes. Dean longed to reach out and hug him, but more pressing matters were at hand.

The pace they made as they rushed towards the Impala was astounding. The hike out had taken them almost and hour and a half. It only took them half the time to make it back to the car. The whole time Sam had has his phone out, searching for a signal to call 911, Dean had tuned him out 4 minutes ago when he had started talking to the dispatcher.

They were to meet the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Fortunately the road out to Deadman’s Cliff was quiet and Dean didn’t have to worry about how fast he went as he pushed the Impala to her limits.

Sam, who was riding in the back keeping, albeit pointless, pressure on your arm, and checking that your were, in fact, still alive, had had to brace himself against the roof and seats a few times as Dean burned around corners much faster then they were meant to be taken. Sam would later wonder how they hadn’t crashed in those moments.

Only when they heard the wailing of the ambulance, nearly an hour from where they had began their drive, did Dean ease up on the gas. Fortunately for them, the ambulance was about ten kilometers down road, so they had just enough time to make a safe stop without the car flipping over.

It seemed unreal as the paramedics leapt from the ambulance, the bright lights of the interior felt fake as he watched them unload the gurney for Sam to set you on, they strapped you in, protecting your neck with a cervical collar before pushing you in. He hardly could process time as he watched Sam climb into the ambulance the doors shutting as Sam turned back to look as him and then the ambulance sped away, leaving a broken man standing in the middle of the highway.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, it could have be seconds, or minutes, maybe even hours; but eventually Dean snapped back into reality. He could no longer hear the wail of the ambulance, or see the bright lights even on the vast expanse of plains. He could feel the tear stains on his cheeks though, could feel the aching in his heart, and the terror in his mind. As he made his way to the Impala, he could feel a strange numbness seep through him.

He and Sam had done all they could to help you, but you had still gone almost and hour without basic wound care, resulting in a high chance of infection. The blood loss and the shock wouldn’t help you fight it off; and you had gone two whole hours without any professional help. Even then, the paramedic’s were still limited in what they could do to help you. And with a sinking feeling, Dean realized that your death could be coming far too soon.

It was too much, with so many feelings left unsaid, and so many more coursing through him, Dean Winchester sat behind the wheel, and wept.

-

Supernatural Tags: (open)

Dean/Jensen Tags: (open)

@akshi8278​

Bad Things Happen Bingo Tags: (open)

@badthingshappenbingo​

[valeskakingdom]

Request

Could I request a part 3? Jerome keeps the reader as his hostage for popularity and attention. Reader is really fond of the attention she gets as well and eventually sleeps with Jerome again? In the end she sees how Galavan kills him and is really sad?

Requested by @violentvaleska

So guys, here's part 5!!

Credit gif: @jokersbabe27

Jerome x female reader (part 5)

Warnings: mentions of violence and murder, depression

Word count: 3378

*Later that day at the charity*

"Already excited for my show, doll?" Jerome grinned through his magician costume. you hated that costume. It hid Jerome's beautiful face with a shitty beard, his hairs were under a stupid wig and a black cylinder. And that tuxedo...gosh, you hated it thought not as much as the wig or the fake beard. The worst on it was his name...'Rodolfo'. You were disgusted by that name.

No magician in that universe would ever call himself like that! It sounds so ridiculous!

"Of course! Though I already know you'll be amazing as always." You smirked pressing a kiss on his cheek "Give them the best show they've ever seen!"

"That ain't be a problem for me" Jerome grinned "Even Hundini wouldn't have seen such a great show." You giggled at his comment.

"Without further ado, please allow me to present you the Great Rodolfo!" Immediately, Jerome walked on stage, everyone was applauding - even you. You were excited for how he was acting as a magician. Of course, you knew he was doing it well anyway. Jerome was professional. He could play every role in this Earth perfectly!

"Ha! Greetings ladies and germs," Jerome walked on stage "I am indeed the Great Rodolfo! Please ogle my lovely assistant. Ohh, for my first act, I'll require a volunteer. Let me see. Duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, goose!" Jerome pointed at Bruce Wayne, the richest orphan in Gotham that was hated by every villain - really, everyone wanted to kill him.

"Hello, young man. Does this handsome gentleman have a name?" You heard Jerome saying after she went out to the crowd to bring him back.

"Bruce." The boy responded.

"Bruce! Well, Bruce. This won't hurt a bit." He clapped two great blades together "Is there a doctor in the house?"

Jerome sticked one of the blades in the box along with the other one. The audience gasped, them applauded him.

While watching you were astonished about Jerome's well, acting. Nobody noticed it was him. Neither Bruce nor the other guests recognized anything. Almost unbelievable for you.

"Some people say Bruce has a split personality." Jerome laughed loud while Barbara brought the little kid back to his actual place "For my next illusion, I'd like to call to the stage esteemed Deputy Major Harrison Kane."

Barbara pushed a rolling table, covered with a tarp, forward that it stood in front of Jerome. She pulled the tarp back and you could see any kind of knives laying down there. You were thinking about what was coming next. Is Jerome still playing with him or is he about to kill that guy?

Barbara bended down making the others noticed the next illusion was incoming. But a mistake happened, her mask fell down.

They're fucked!! You thought panicking. If anyone of the guests recognized them, they all would have a big problem. People would call the police, others die, the police finds you and eventually become informed about Theo, as well.

But Barbara kept being professional. Nobody made a move to start panicking or to call the police. Everything stayed normal.

"By the way, nobody is getting out here alive." At first the crowd laughed because they thought he was just joking - of course, he did not. Jerome killed the Deputy and the gunfire started. People were screaming and hiding in hope they weren't the next victim.

You flinched a little in surprise, although you might have expected it. Who would Jerome not kill expect you? He killed his mother, now the Deputy Major...it was just a matter of time to see who was his next victim.

For you, that all was pretty exciting, but also a big feeling of unpleasantness came over you. This situation reminded you of the day Jerome kidnapped you. You had flashbacks. You fear, you uncomfortableness, the nervousness, the wish to go home...everything came back - you knew best how the victims felt right now, and.

And as the last time, something told you that this situation wouldn't turn out well.

You wanted to be with Jerome right now. You just wanted to hug him, you wouldn't care whether he liked it or not, you just needed it.

But you couldn't go to him. You promised him to stay backstage to watch his marvellous show. And you knew, as everyone else knew what would happen if you broke the promise. His mood would change again and you needed to see whether it would turn out well for you or not.

You just stared at your lover. Finally he took the cylinder from his head as the wig, his black mask and the beard. Finally he presented himself again. You couldn't help but smile. You saw him being excited, being happy. He was the star in the show as he was the boss. You loved to see this: him standing there calm and managing everything while around him was pure chaos.

He was so professional you thought.

Out of nowhere, another woman was brought on stage, it was Lee Tompkins.

She was handhuffed, her gaze expressed fear and panicking.

They probably have taken her from behind as she was about to call the cops to tell what was going on.

You saw Jerome gazing at her with a smile - immediately, you hated her. You hated how you Jerome looked at her, how he smiled at her. It looked the same as every time he was smiling at you.

"Hey, darling" You felt shivers down your spine and jealousy came over you as he said that, you hated when Jerome was acting kinda flirty with other women. You always got the feeling they'd be much better than you but you also that your thoughts are wrong "I need to borrow your phone for a moment. We wanna tell Jimbo how the show's going on, don't we?"

And so he called him:

"Sorry Jimbo, it's just little old me!" He said nothing for a moment, then "Are you outside? You are, aren't you?" He cackled" Oh, goody!"

"Breathe, James. I haven't touched a hair on your girlfriend's pretty head." See for yourself. This is live television after all." You heard Jerome laughing after he responded to 'Jimbo'.

Then Jerome and Barbara tied Lee up on that big wheel pretending to shoot her head. It was all to entertain the crowd, to make them love. No one loved though - besides you. You loved their show. It entertained you and you loved to see your lover in action.

"True, but not the point. Hey, let's talk about what I want." Jerome walked down the stage closer to the camera "$47 million, a helicopter, obviously, the dry cleaning I left at Mr. Chang's be careful, the man is a crook, and mm, I don't know, a pony. Uh, you got ten minutes or I start killing people. Remember this is being broadcast to every home in Gotham, so, don't let people die. Bye!" Jerome laughed into the phone as he hung up "I think that went well." Jerome looked at you giving you a wink with a smile.

"Enough! You need to pack up your pathetic little sideshow and leave!" You suddenly heard Theo yelling from the other side of the stage. You were confused. What was he doing here? He told them to do this! Or did this still belong to the show?

"Is that right?" Jerome asked with a smirk.

"It may be presumptuous to speak for all citizens of Gotham. But we are sick of you! You're a small, vicious man with a pathetic need for attention. Enough man, for God's sake, enough!"

You were even more confused about Galavan's words. Something was in the bush. In his tower he spoke in high claims of Jerome that he was the star in the show, that he trusted Jerome most that he'll do it. What was wrong now?

"I'm curious what your leverage is here, Mr.?"

"Theo Galavan"

"Well, Mr. Theo Galavan, if you don't sit down, uh, I'm gonna shoot you. In your face."

"I know there is some human decency left in you. If you need a hostage, take me. But let these people go home! To their families, to their children." Before Theo could continue his speech, Barbara knocked him out with a some kind of pan. You giggled for yourself, almost laughed loud. It looked so stupid for you how he fell on the ground. It was like in a real blockbuster.

"Boring" Barbara stated.

"Right" Jerome cackled loudly, then he made his way to you with a big grin in his face. Automatically you grinned, too.

"How do you like the show doll?" Jerome grabbed your hands and pulled you close to him. You felt a slightly blush spreading over your cheeks as he pressed his lips against yours. His hands grabbed your cheeks softly to intense the kiss.

"I love it! It's very exciting" You grinned wrapping your arms around his neck while he wrapped his arms around your waist "But I'm much happier about you not wearing this cruel costume anymore. It covered your face, I hated it."

Jerome just chuckled about your comment and kissed your forehead.

"I have an idea," You just raised your brows looking at him in interest "Wanna be the star in my show?"

"Of course I do!" You smiled wide before he pressed his lips against yours quickly, then you both walked out. Gasps filled the room, all eyes were on you. They all knew who you were. You were the missed girl everyone was looking for. They either thought you were dead or that you were left at a lost place. But now you stood there - healthy, happy, self-confident.

"I know what you all think: That's (Y/n)! What is she doing here?! Where has she been?! I tell you all a secret: She was with me all the time." Jerome grabbed your face soft making you giggle "She's gorgeous, isn't she? Always has a pretty smile in her face."

Barbara pulled a next man up on stage positioning right in front of you and handed you a gun. Then she placed an apple on the man's bald.

"You know how to hold a gun, doll?" Jerome grinned wrapping his arms around you from behind. You felt his lips and his warm breathe touched your cheek. It was giving you chills in arousal.

"I'm not that stupid, Jerome." You made sure the gun was loaded. You positioned yourself to keep stable and pointed the gun at the apple. That was what Barbara and Tabitha have taught you over the days you were at Galavan's.

The man in front of you was shivering with wide eyes, his sweat was dripping down his forehead. His eyes expressed fear and you could see he wished you didn't kill him.

"Hold very still." Jerome growled at the man, then he covered his eyes with one hand "I can't look! Someone tell me how it turns out."

You inhaled deeply and concentrated on the apple. But as you pulled the trigger, just water came out and splashed into the old man's face. At that moment, you thought that Jerome jerked you around with tell you time the star.

Jerome just sighed in annoyance grabbing your gun and gave you a new one assuring you that he didn't know the gun was fake.

"Damn! Turn around." The man looked at you in fear and turned around. With his eyes he literally begged you not to shoot or at least to hit the apple. He was about to stop moving as you shot the apple from his head. The crowd gasps in shock and relief that the guy wasn't dead yet.

"Whoo!" Barbara cheered happily. You knew she was proud of you that you didn't blame yourself and missed the apple. You were proud of yourself, too. You shot without hesitation, not even thinking of missing the apple and accidentally shoot the guy.

Every one else kept quiet tho.

"Well, clap!" Jerome shouted kinda aggressively to the crowd - then they did it. Nervously and fast. He laughed slightly pressing a kiss on your cheek "Well done, doll."

"Thank you, Jerome." You grinned. He took the gun out of your hands and placed it on the table with the knives. Then he kept staring at them for a while, you could see he was thinking about something.

"Do you know how to use a knife? Just wondering." Jerome smiled at you.

Before you could answer though, you saw Lee kicked Barbara in the stomach making her grunt.

As Barbara looked up at Lee, you could see fury was written in her face. She was angry, mad...these words just described a very small part of her feeling. It was incredible how much hate a person could express.

You looked at Lee. You could see she didn't give a fuck about her consequences.

"Haven't been ten minutes," Jerome hissed holding Barbara's arm tight that she was unable to stab Lee "We need to buy you a watch." Soon as Jerome turned around back to you Barbara punched Lee in her face. The crowd and you all gasped in surprise. Jerome instead, just looked at you shaking his head in disappointment what made you chuckle.

"Well, I think it's time for tonight's first official victim. You all know and love. Poor rich boy...Parents murdered in an alley, and my favorite volunteer: Where is Bruce Wayne?" Jerome claimed waiting for the little boy's appearance - he didn't come though. Everyone looked around for the boy hoping he would come. They, as you, knew what would happen if he did - someone will die.

"You know, I'm an orphan, too, Bruce? I killed my parents, though." Jerome spoke to the microphone, then stepped away from it "Where are you hiding?"

"Bruce!" Jerome screamed in anger making you flinch a little - you were always surprised about his temper. It came rapidly and was gone after a few seconds "Where are you buddy?!"

"That little kid's afraid of you, Jerome." You giggled wrapping your arms around his torso kinda in hope to calm him down a little. You had no idea his temper could ride that fast. "Give that boy some time to realize how much fun he's gonna have with you."

"We don't have time, right now. We have a plan to follow." Jerome grumbled looking around for Bruce and slightly pushing you away from him. In your eyes, Jerome was  a mix of an infant and a monster or the evil itself. His impatience reminded you of a child that didn't get his will. And his eye expression expressed fury, evil and the strong wish to kill the kid. It was fascinating, and almost frightening.

"Kill his butler!"" Barbara suggested.

"Alright, last chance Bruce but it's about to get very butler-brainy out here." Jeromekept looking around. While that, some of Jerome's colleagues grabbed the butler's arms right pushing him forward to Jerome. He was an older tall man in a black tuxedo looking very concerned for the little boy - understandable.

"Brucey!" Jerome yelled looking through the crowd but the boy still didn't appear "I'm bored. Shoot the butler." Jerome turned to you with a grin, not even really paying attention to what was happening around him. He just wanted you.

"Stop!" Bruce claimed panicking and ran fast in front of the stage to his poor butler.

"Let's get this started, huh?" Jerome gasped pulling Bruce back while pointing a gun at his head "You! Check behind the curtain! Make sure no one's playing silly buggers"

One of Jerome's colleagues nodded and walked to the curtain. He moved it aside the entrance,  he got shot.

"Drop the knife!" James Gordon shouted pointing a gun at Jerome, but he just laughed and pressed the young Bruce Wayne in front of his body, a sharp blade was pressed on his throat almost cutting his thin skin.

"I don't have a clean shot!" Gordon shouted.

"Stay calm, Bruce." The butler tried to encourage the little boy after he took a gun, as well, pointing it at Jerome. He totally ignored what Gordon said. His mind was all around Bruce.

"It seems like we've got ourselves a pickle." Jerome stopped laughing but pressing a knife against Bruce's throat. "What do you say Brucey boy? Wanna boost our ratings, huh?" Jerome cackled insanely again "Smile."

"I said enough!"  All of a sudden Theo appeared behind Jerome. He looked mad, very mad. Again you got that feeling of uncomfortableness. And again you got that feeling that something bad will happen now. You saw it on his gaze. This devilish grin. Something was in the bush.

And you weren't wrong. Shortly after Jerome turned to him slowly, Theo stabbed a knife into his neck.

Everyone gasped in shock, you were the loudest though. You heart dropped, you couldn't move for the moment, your legs became weak, cat got your tongue - you weren't able to breathe normal. You felt poor as you stared at Theo's hand that pressed the knife in Jerome's throat deeper and deeper - and that all right in front of you. Your whole body shivered, you were about to throw up every minute.

Tears built up in your eyes and some even streamed down your cheeks. This couldn't be real, this mustn't be real! You couldn't loose him, not now, not again, not forever.

Things have happened not quite perfect and you were mad at him, you didn't want to be with him, you even hated him for a moment, you were afraid of him... everything. You could say for one moment he was your biggest fear in your life because you were scared he'd kill you every minute, or every time you did something wrong. But that faded, it was forgiven, your love was refreshed. It was stronger than the night you two met for the first time. Your connection was stronger than ever before - you knew you belonged together. Why else did fate decide to let you two meet again? Why else would you fall for him again? Why else did he all you his doll, his girl, his queen? That weren't just words...it was more, a lot more.

You knew Jerome couldn't show love as usual people did, but you knew he loved you. His soft side towards you, him trying to make you smile, him protecting you when Greenwood teased you or harassed you..,that was all real. He didn't act at all!

All the memories came up. His smile, how you two hold a conversation for the first time at the circus, you felt the warmth on you hand again when you remembered how he held your hand. You could feel his arms wrapping around your body, and you could hear him calling you 'doll'.

And all this was gone forever now.

"I know, I know." He pressed Jerome down to the ground "Im so sorry, Jerome. You have real talent. But now you see, the plot thickens. Enter the hero." You saw Theo grinning slightly.

You could kill him for what he has done to him - and to you. He took all your joy away, he ripped your heart in two and three it away that it shattered in thousands of pieces. He had to die in your eyes. He just deserved it. You wanted revenge. You wanted to make him feel what he has done to you. You wanted to make him feel how you felt - sad, broken, shocked.

"I was gonna be.." With his last breath and his last courage, he looked up to you still having a grin in his face. His mouth opened shortly as if he was about to say something to you, but too late.

He was dead - dead as your happiness, your joy, you will to live. Your heart felt so heavy that every beating was exhausting you, as your breathing. The world was spinning around you. You body and your psyche couldn't handle what has happened just a few seconds in front of you.

He died, your love, your everything - your Jerome. And he will never come back.

And you died - inside.