#so now i'm sitting in my room fighting for my live with a headache trying to watch a movie for class :(

[witchwhaat]

saw akira at cinema

[fxchild]

The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter nine: Make you stay.

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Miles pov

I think it's been one- no. Two weeks, since Y/n had that.. encounter? It's not like we had sex or anything but I definitely didn't expect to make out on her bed until Flora came banging on her door complaining about a nightmare, while Y/n forced me to hide under her damn bed on the cold floor for half an hour while she made sure Flora went to sleep and didn't bother us again. I was kinda glad we got interrupted if I'm being honest. Even though Y/n pounced on me like a lion to a gazelle, she seemed pretty nervous whenever I kissed her too hard or if I touched her leg. Believe it or not things have been even more awkward than before when we were constantly nipping at each other and now I'm starting to miss the fighting more than the dry tension in the room.

Anyways, I've got about fourteen days to make things less awkward and for her to stay with us for the summer. I heard her talking on the phone a few days back, thinking about taking up a different job in California. Her teacher recommended it or some shit, get into a better college. She's not going to Harvard I know that for sure.

Something that's been pissing me off is that Quint has been messing with her head so now she sleeps with the door off and the lamp lights on. I asked him to lay off but it's not doing much. I've been trying to sneak in to make sure he's not fucking with her in her sleep or anything. She's only sixteen like me after all, he shouldn't be messing with kids our age, especially the ones I want to stay.

Uhm, another thing is that I've been out of it for a day or two. Like my throat is pretty dry and I've had a wicked headache. I swear to god if I wake up tomorrow with a cold I'm gonna be pissed.

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Your pov

It's been about two weeks since Miles and I had that half-assed hookup. Ever since then it's been so awkward. We can't even speak to each other now for more than two sentences before getting freaked out and forgetting what we were talking about. I mean, it's easier to focus on Flora and her work, but at the same time it's boring without being able to pick a fight with Miles. I miss our back and forth bickering because at least it kept us talking and occupied. I have fifteen days before I go back home for the summer, I really wanted to stay but I've gotten more job offerings in new places and I want to go out and explore. Plus, spending the summer in some creepy ass house, with a boy who can't even be in the same room as me for five minutes doesn't seem like the ideal summer. I feel bad for leaving Flora, and I guess Miles because they are all alone with Ms. Grose, who is lucky if she can live another four years. But I need to put myself first, that's what's important. I just wish Miles would talk to me before I leave, because even though we snap at each other, he's been growing on me. I'm not saying I like his stuck up asshole personality but I see how he is with Flora and I sometimes wish he could be able to open up to me like that.

This morning I woke up to the sound of projectile vomiting. I figured it was coming from Flora's room since she ate a lot of chocolate last night. I ran to her room to check on her to find her still asleep in her bed. Then I realized that the puking and groaning was coming from Miles room. I debated on leaving him there to take care of himself since he thinks he's grown and can take care of himself but then I remembered the time I was drunk. The way he drove me home at 2am and stayed outside my door all night in case I felt sick again. I walked into his room and knocked on his closed bathroom door.

"Miles, it's just me. I'm gonna come in okay?" I say as I hear him groan and spit into the toilet. I open the door to see his face almost glued to the toilet bowl, gasping and throwing up. I sit next to him and rub his back, grabbing a few sheets of toilet paper so he can wipe his mouth when he's done. "Get it all out, that's it.." I whisper to him as he continues to gag.

When he finishes he grabs the toilet paper from my hand and wipes his mouth, flushing the toilet. I let him sit on the floor with his back pressed against the wall for a moment as I grab a washcloth, drenching it in cold water. I put it on the back of his neck as he tries to stand up. He walks over to me where I'm putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and handing it to him.

"Make sure to brush your tongue too." I put the cap back on his toothpaste. "I'm gonna get you a new shirt, there's a little bit of puke on it." I point to the spot on his shirt. I walk out of his room and open his closet, looking for an old shirt in the piles on the floor. Miles walks back into the room and curls up on his mattress with his washcloth in his hands. I didn't even realize he came back into the room until he spoke up and groaned.

"Jesus it's fucking freezing in here.." I turned around to see him shirtless, breathing heavily and laying down. I grab a random green shirt and walk over to his mattress.

"No Miles, sit up you have to let your stomach settle for a bit." I prop his pillows against the wall and help him sit up a bit. I let him put his new shirt on and pulled the covers up to his waist. I felt his forehead and winced at his temperature. "Miles, you're really hot." I sighed and bit my bottom lip trying to think of how to take care of him.

He let out a chuckle and wrapped a hand over his stomach. "I'm hot? Thanks.." I frown at him since this isn't something to be joking about. "Not funny." I say with pursed lips and put the washcloth on his forehead.

"I'm gonna go to the store to get you some medicine. Flora used it the last time she was sick. Do you want me to pick you up something?" I put my hands on my hips and waited for his response.

He sat there for a second to think, "Am I even allowed to eat anything? Like I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to eat when you're sick." He tilted his head, squinting his eyes.

"You're allowed to eat Miles but only if you feel up for it. I can pick you up some grits, or popsicles? Do you sound up for that when you get your appetite back?" I rub the back of my neck, giving him a sympathetic look.

"I'm not hungry..I-I don't care okay? I'll be fine by tomorrow." He shakes his head and waves his hand in the air.

"Okay, well I'm still going to the store because I'm not putting up with your whining later. I'll be back in an hour okay?" I shrug and ruffle his hair lightly before trying to smack my hands away.

I brush my teeth, grab my keys and put on some slippers. I head out to the car to start for the store.

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Miles pov

She couldn't have taken any fucking longer to get back from the store could she? I'm sitting in my bed, trying my best for an hour to hold my stomach until she comes back but it's getting too painful. I ran to the bathroom throwing up nothing but stomach acid. I was panting and almost crying from the pain, it felt like my stomach was twisting. Y/n hears me gagging and rushes into the bathroom to rub my back and hold back my hair. When I'm done, there's tears in my eyes from the pain and she gives me this stupid sad look like she feels sorry for me or some dumb shit. I sit on my bathroom counter as she hands me my toothbrush again. She opens up a small can of Gingerale and puts it on my nightstand.

"You don't have to drink it now, but if your stomach feels funny again try some. It works trust me." She smiles and feels my forehead again to see if my fever had gone down a little. I sit there under the covers with my head against the wall as Y/n sits at the end of my mattress reading a book.

"What's that?" I say weakly, motioning to the book. I catch her attention and she smiles. "A book?" She giggles trying to be funny or something.

"Yeah, no shit." I chuckle and she gives me an unamused look. So apparently I'm not allowed to be funny anymore I guess. "What's it about?"

"It's about a prince trying to find his princess through a dream. It's really cute." She gets up to sit next to me on the mattress, showing me the blurb.

"Oh.. fantasy?" I mutter out as a question.

"Yeah, I like fantasy. You don't?" She tilts her head to look at me, tabbing her book before closing it. I shrug, "I mean, it's not bad but I just can't ever get into it."

"Well maybe that's because you haven't read a good one." She smirks, and for a second I feel like we aren't talking about books. I shook my head and stayed silent for a few minutes.

"You know, I usually get sick in the summer." I give her a side glance. I lied, I never get sick. This was the first time in probably a year and a half I've gotten sick. "I mean, who's gonna get me a cold washcloth and rub my back when I'm throwing up?" I smirk at her slightly.

"Ms. Grose?" She jokes and I roll my eyes.

"Be serious Y/n. She's so old I think she's gonna kick the bucket any day now. And when she does that, who's gonna help me take care of Flora? I don't have any parents you know." I sit up more and turn to face her, putting my hands in my lap.

She sighs and turns to face me. "Who said I was leaving?" She gives me a confused look.

"Y/n I heard you on the phone. I mean California seems nice, but is that what you really want?" I give her a dead eyed look and raise a brow.

She studies my face letting out a deep breath, "Miles, you don't even like having me around. We fight all the time, why do you want me around?" She shakes her head and leans back a little bit.

"Come on, Flora will miss you. She'll be upset that you aren't coming back. I mean she really loves you, fuck, she wants you to be her mother! She needs you, Y/n- I-I need you okay? I can't even take care of myself while I'm sick and you expect me to take care of myself, a whole property and a little girl? I mean, jesus, what do I have to do to make you stay?" I spurt out quickly, motioning my hands everywhere with dramatic tones.

She smiles for a moment and grabs my hand, "You just did." She gives me a sincere look, like we finally came to an agreement. I let out a relieved sigh I didn't even know I was holding and she giggled. "Why do we fight so much? Everything would be so much easier if we just listened to each other, you know?" She asks even though she sounds like she already knows her own reason.

"I think you know why I do it.." I look at my red candles I caught her staring at one day in particular when she first came into my room.

She looked at the candles then back at my eyes. "Because you don't know how to treat people?" She barely whispered out. She looked into my eyes for a moment before speaking once more. "I only pick fights with you cause I think you're kinda cute." She admits, leaning back again.

I raise a brow, "You think I'm cute?" I chuckle and she let's go of my hand, she's trying to bite back a smile.

"Yeah, you're cute. So what?" She smirks and we stare at each other. I think we were both waiting for one of us to do something, anything. But no one moved or spoke. After a moment of my silence she got up and put the covers back over my waist. "You should get some rest, it's not good to stay up when you're delirious." She gave me a dejected look and turned off my lamp.

"I'm not delirious." I grab her wrist gently and assure her.

"You're sick, Miles." She gives me a stern tone, and eyes me down to let go of her wrist.

"I know what I'm saying, Y/n." I gulp and give her the smallest smile I could muster and let go of her wrist, laying back into the pillows. She slides a hand on my forehead and it goes into my curls. She kissed my forehead and walked to the door.

"Get some sleep, call me if you need anything okay?" She gave me a sad smile and walked out of the room.

Now she was just confusing me because did she just reject me without either of us talking about dating? I don't think I asked her out but I think I wanted to. I want to I really do, but how the hell am I supposed to do that when she can't take me seriously? I better get over this damn sickness soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi hi! It's fxchild back again with another chapter! Sorry if this is bad I had to rewrite it THREE times because it kept god damn deleting. This took me 2 hours and 15 minutes to write (I timed it yes) so hopefully you enjoyed it. Plsplspls if you did not see my other post to put some requests in because this will be one of the last chapters until Mr. Fairchild finishes his story. I literally do not care what you ask me to write as long as it's not acc insane. If my requests don't work PLEASE dm me I will answer because no one texts me like ever ! Anyways, I love you guys so so much 💕 thank you for continuing to motivate me to write.

-fxchild

[the-kr8tor]

I'll give you my blood if you give us an alternate ending for that time loop 🥺

Hi hun! Don't worry you don't need to sacrifice your blood for the alternative ending!

Fun fact I've actually originally written it to have a happy ending, but when I was nearing the end, I thought it would be a lot better for Hobie to accept it and finally let go (and also I kinda written myself into a corner) so I've written a bit on how it would've went down.

Thank you for reading, angel! I'm glad you liked it! ❤️❤️❤️

The original fic here

Under the clocktower alternate ending under the cut.

Hobie opens his eyes, the smell of smoke mockingly fills his nostrils, yet he doesn't get up. Maybe he should let this one burn everything, might as well right?

You run towards the kitchen, skidding to a halt when your hip hits the table. You groan out as quietly as you can, so you don't wake up Hobie.

He gets reminded of why he keeps fighting, why keeps on trying to get out of the loop and finally rescue you from your demise.

Hobie sits up, he clutches his head from the searing headache, his fingers feel numb. He feels breathless but at the same time he feels like he's choking on too much air.

All the times he's been killed and injured has finally caught up to him. He wonders what he's done to deserve this kind of punishment, surely there's more people deserving of this awful gate right?

Hobie doesn't want to believe that there's a higher power orchestrating all of this, or some spiritual cause. He lifts his head up with a groan, trying to push away the migraine knocking on his eyelids.

He roams his eyes on your room, your choice of decor, the faint blue of the walls, and the various scientific books litter around your desk.

"Wait" Hobie gets an idea, his eyes flick over your stark white coat, your name embroidered elegantly on its chest pocket, on the bottom of your name sits the name 'Alchemax'

His eyes widened when he remembered a conversation from last week.

Hobie jumps out of bed with a renewed vigour. He runs towards you trying to salvage what was left of your breakfast.

Hobie grabs you by the waist, hugging you from behind.

"Hey! Good morning to you too, you're in a good mood" you laugh.

He missed that, your laugh.

He turns you around to face him, cupping your cheeks.

"What did you say last week?"

"I said a lot of things last week, Hobie, you gotta be more specific"

"Right, when you were talking about your new job at Alchemax, what did you say you were hired for?"

"Oh! That, I was hired for programming their new collider, guess you were too busy kissing me to remember" you huff out.

He kisses you on the lips furiously, that has to be it, it has to be.

You pull away breathlessly, concern filling you.

"You okay, Hobie?"

"From now on I'll remember, I'll remember everything that you say" he pecks your lips with a smack, "know that I love you, alright?"

"I know, I love you too"

Your neighbor knocks on your door, before you could answer the door he stops you, Hobie grabs a bag of sugar then he quickly opens the door tossing it haphazardly towards the general direction of your neighbor. He closes it in a bang.

"Babe, I know you hate him, but that was a bit mean" you put your hands on your hips. "I mean really, that bag was heavy"

"He'll live" hopefully by the end you do too.

Hobie rushes to put on his suit.

You look at him confused "isn't it a bit too early for your patrols?"

"Nope," he pecks your cheek "do me a favour, take the other route this morning, I heard there's a robbery near the route you usually take" he lies.

"Yeah, sure but that takes longer though, can't you just swing me to work, you're already up anyway, please?"

Hobie takes one look at your pleading face, he almost falters. But he has to do this now.

"Sorry, love, maybe next time, yeah?" He opens the window, he stops himself, taking one good look at you.

This has to work.

He sneaks inside Alchemax.

Hobie pulls the fire alarm to get everyone out.

Once everyone is out, he finds the collider, then destroys it for good.

He feels a tugging sensation, he feels it go away immediately.

As he swings away, he glimpses your form amidst the crowd.

The clock rings out.

He fights Goblin, precognition on his side.

While he fights Goblin he tries to find you on the bridge, but you weren't anywhere near it, he doesn't know whether that's good or bad.

He defeats Goblin, he swings back home.

Hobie finds you singing to yourself, as you read on the couch. He checks the clock -7:00 pm

Did he do it? Is this it?

He runs to you, touching your shoulders. You yell at the sudden presence.

"Fuck! Hobie, you could've said hi first, jeez" you greet him with a hug. "You okay? I saw the fight on the news, you were absolutely brilliant, she couldn't even get a hit in"

"You're home early" he asks as he roams his eyes on your body, trying to find any injuries.

"Yeah, there was a fire at Alchemax, couldn't even get inside the building," you rub over his heart with your knuckles, trying to calm his raving heart. "On my first day too, just my luck huh?"

He hugs you tightly "yeah, just my luck"

Hobie waits for the other shoe to drop, he waits throughout the night, he doesn't sleep, he just lays on your bed, embracing you tightly against his.

He does this until the sun rises, your clock signaling the next day, the new date written in bold red numbers. For the first time he smiles at the morning sun.

Hobie looks down at you, checking your breathing, in and out, your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.

He did it, he kept his promise.

❤️

-This wasn't obviously complete lol, since I trashed this ending, while in the middle of writing.

-Another fun fact! I didn't outline the entire story but instead I wrote it based on the five stages of grief.

- i didn't continue with this ending because I liked the angsty version more whoops. 🤭

[paikothecateater]

fluffy ass anko family sunday evening where they exist in peace and comfortable silence is my everything

Alright, well I'll try to add to this.

It's 7pm on a casual Sunday evening, Iceland is laying across the living room sofa having a quiet conversation with Mr. Puffin who was snuggled up on his chest. Norway had been perched up on the window seat for about an hour now, reading and occasionally throwing withering glares at the aforementioned puffin. Denmark had been stuck at the dining table with countless boring looking papers sprawled out in front of him. He had spent most of his day hunched over these damn papers. His vision had begun getting all fuzzy as a result of the reading glasses he'd had on all day. He'd occasionally cast glances at the other two, the sight of Iceland talking to his puffin like a child giving him enough positive reinforcement to keep going. He turns to look at them once again, but is met with the sight of Iceland almost exactly next to him, Mr. Puffin cradled in his arms. Denmark removes the annoying glasses to properly look at him managing a small smile.

Iceland wordlessly takes a seat right next to Denmark who almost immediately absentmindedly wraps an arm around him.

"you need something, Ice?"

"you've been sitting here for a really long time."

"yep, miss me already?"

Iceland rolls his eyes, but he doesn't manage to fight off a smile. Denmark pulled him in gently and kissed his forehead.

"I just wanted to know if you were almost done."

Denmark rubbed his eyes with a huge groan.

"not even close."

He puts the glasses down on one of the piles of papers and gets up.

"I'm not going to get anything done at this rate."

He pulls Iceland out of his seat and leads him over to the living room. Denmark all but throws himself on the sofa with a sigh. Iceland took a seat on the floor by the sofa. Norway sat up in the window seat in a pose that could only be described as cat-like.

Denmark rubs his temples to try to get rid of the pounding headache he'd gotten from both the glasses and the stress he'd accumulated over the course of the whole day.

Iceland reached over to sympathetically brush Denmark's hair back.

With a sigh, Norway finally got down from the window seat and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed Denmark a glass of water and a cold pack for the headache as well as a bottle of painkillers. He walked over to Denmark and handed him the water and medicine while strapping the cold pack onto his head. Much like Iceland, Norway also wasn't a fan of seeing his older brother so tired.

Both he and Iceland managed to climb up next to Denmark and snuggle up to him. Despite it only being 8:30pm, the three found themselves drifting off, the comfort of having two of his favourite people in the world all snuggled up in his arms almost completely eradicated any stress or anxiety he felt about needing to finish the paperwork. Mr. Puffin seemed to be the only one left awake and he was more than happy being cradled by Iceland for a whole night, so he wasn't going to be the one to wake him or the others. Even Norway's presence couldn't bother him right now and vise-versa Norway had even begrudgingly reached over to pet him.

Of course the three would be in complete agony the next day given the awkward position their bodies had been in the whole night, but that couldn't possibly matter right now.

All that mattered was that despite everything, they were together, they were safe and nothing could force them apart at this moment.

[frickingnerd]

let me love you (until you learn to love yourself)

pairing: shinjiro aragaki x gn!reader

summary: awaking from a coma, you find shinjiro at your side, blaming himself for what happened to you. but your words manage to get through to him and offer some comfort…

a/n: fighting the feminine urge to put in a plot twist that the reader was dead all along and shinjiro is just hallucinating to cope (I DIDN'T DO IT, I SWEAR! THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!!)

“please… wake up again, please!”

a quiet voice echoed through your dreams. it sounded distant at first, but with each passing moment, it seemed to be getting closer. clearer. louder.

“you have to wake up again…!”

you felt someone squeeze your hand. at first, you could barely feel it. but as you seemed to slowly wake up, you could feel someone desperately clinging to you. as if they were afraid you'd slip away, if they didn't hold you tight.

“mmhh…?”

you opened your eyes, only to quickly shut them again, when you were blinded by the cold light of the room. the light gave your headache and you were barely even awake! still, you blinked twice, trying to open your eyes again. and that's when you spotted the person sitting next to you on what seemed to be a hospital bed.

“s-shinji…?”

the boy's head hung low and he had been mumbling to himself, before you woke up. when he heard your voice, his head shot up and in the blink of an eye, he had pulled you into a tight hug. you winced in pain, your entire body hurting. but shinjiro barely even noticed, as he began talking.

“i'm so sorry, this is all my fault! i wish i would've never left you alone! if… if i knew this would happen, i would've never left you alone!”

you gently wrapped your arms around shinjiro. he was clearly distressed, but you couldn't quite remember why. you knew there was something you were forgetting, but with all the painkillers in your body, you struggled to think straight and remember what had happened to make you end up here.

“it's okay… i am okay, shinji!”

you weren't quite sure if you were alright. but you were still alive! so it couldn't be that bad, right?

“n-no, you…”

shinjiro only clung to you more. he gripped the cloth of your shirt with his fists, desperately holding onto you. and then, you felt his tears dripping onto your clothes.

“this is all my fault… if i had never left you alone – if i had never left S.E.E.S., then i would've been there to help! you never would've gotten hurt, if i was there. i would've protected you, but– but i wasn't there. god, why did i leave? why did i leave you alone, risking your life like that…?”

shinjiro's sorrow turned into anger.

as you pulled away from him, you could see his furrowed brow and that look of self hatred in his eyes. it wasn't the first time he looked like that. that october night, when he lost control of his persona. he had that same look in his eyes that night…

“this wasn't your fault…”

you gently brought a hand to his cheek, wiping away his tears. shinjiro looked at you surprised, but then his eyes reverted back to that look. he was in utter disbelief how you could show a monster like him such kindness.

“you have to stop blaming yourself, shinjiro. none of this was your fault. you're a good guy…”

shinjiro couldn't accept your words. he softly shook his head, before turning away. your hand that had been resting on his cheeks slowly sunk.

“i– i can't forgive myself. no matter how often you say that it wasn't my fault… i don't think i could ever forgive myself…”

you hadn't seen shinjiro this honest before. you knew that he lived with regret and guilt, but he had never admitted to it this openly before.

“if you can't let go of the past… then make sure that this past won't become your future”

shinjiro turned back to face you, confusion written on his face.

“if you keep isolating yourself, you'll just pile up more and more regrets. like being unable to save me…”

shinjiro seemed to be listening to you now, so you brought a hand back to his cheek, gently caressing it. instead of pulling away, he melted into your touch, closing his eyes and leaning against your hand.

“isolating yourself won't stop bad things from happening. it'll only stop you from preventing them! you can't do everything on your own. so, please… let us help you. together, we can make sure you'll never have any regrets again! let us carry your burden, shinjiro…”

your words finally seemed to have reached shinjiro. his face softened and tears began to roll down his cheeks. only this time, he began to smile softly, as he wiped them away.

“you're right. thank you…”

shinjiro softly held your hand, pressing a gentle kiss onto it, before looking at you again. and this time without that pained look in his eyes. this time, his eyes were brimming with fondness and affection.

“thank you, for saving me from myself. if it wasn't for you, i'd never allow myself to be happy again…”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Drugged Hero Whumpee used as Party Favor at Villain's Party part 16

Warnings: living weapon whumpee, blood, forced betrayal, friend pitted against friend, forced fight, living weapon vs hero, stab wounds

Shadow let out a gurgling sigh, closing her eyes, and didn't fight the soothing darkness that washed over her, letting it carry her away completely.

Shadow awoke with a blasting headache, black spots dancing in her vision. She could hear a heated argument somewhere close by. Her skin felt sticky and wet as she forced herself to sit up, and she realized she was covered in blood. And a few inches away from her was a lifeless corpse, another sprawled a little further. It quickly dawned on her that she was still in the experiment room, where she'd been forced to kill two of Archenemy's henchmen. She'd somehow, miraculously, survived. She was so sure she would have died this time, given the extensive injuries she sustained. Her healing powers could only do so much, after all.

"Did you or did you not help her when I strictly told you not to?!" Shadow flinched at Archenemy's angry voice, and craned her head to see him getting in Ava's face, spotting fire with rage.

With a groan, Shadow shakily pushed herself to her feet, swaying unsteadily. Instantly, the argument died into silence, Archenemy's focus snapping to her. He looked shocked, then delighted, the latter the emotion Shadow dreaded most from him. Delight for him always translated to pain for her.

"You sure are persistent, I'll admit," Archenemy laughed, shaking his head in a mixture of amazement and disbelief. "Like a cockroach. No matter how many times you're crushed, you always somehow manage to come back." His lip curled hatefully. "But also like a cockroach, I want you exterminated. You served your purpose -- I got everything I needed for my studies from your regenerative blood. Which means I don't need you anymore. Pitting you against my two traitorous henchmen was a fun experiment, but I am bored now."

Archenemy yanked one of the small daggers from a sheath on Ava's leg, pressing the handle into his living weapon's palm and closing her fingers around it. "Be a dear and kill her for me, all right? I'm sure you can do what my henchmen failed to," he sneered. "Old-fashioned way, no using your powers. This will be good fight training for you anyway."

"Yes, Sir," Ava answered robotically, and took a step in Shadow's direction, dagger in hand.

Shadow instinctively scooped up the blade that had stabbed her earlier to defend herself, still coated in her own blood as she hesitantly brandished it against her friend.

"Ava, listen to me, you don't have to obey him," she pleaded desperately. "He doesn't own you. You are not property."

Ava's eyes were cloudy as she slunk closer, muscles tensing up to attack. Shadow cursed under her breath, sliding into a defensive stance.

Ava lunged. Shadow ducked, diving at her friend's feet. It was enough to catch Ava by surprise, and Shadow tackled her to the floor, wrestling to get the dagger away from her. "Ava, snap out of it!" Shadow cried out. There was a note of genuine panic in her voice, because this time Ava would be fighting to kill. And Shadow knew Ava was one of the few people who could kill her. They'd been on the same hero team, after all. Ava knew all her strengths, and her weaknesses.

Shadow's head snapped backwards after a brutal elbow to the face, and Ava followed up by punching her right in the Solar Plexus, knocking the breath out of her.

"Ava, please, stop--" Shadow coughed and wheezed, trying to get words out. She barely managed to keep hold of her blade. But Ava was too lost in her own head, launching at Shadow with a bloodthirsty snarl.

And this time... Shadow didn't dodge. She took the full force of Ava head-on as she slammed into her, feeling a strong hand grab the front of her shirt and pin her against the wall.

Shadow stared into the face of her friend -- a stranger -- and watched, helpless, as Ava drove her dagger up to the hilt in her chest, between her ribs so that the blade rested mere inches from her heart. One twitch of her hand and Shadow would die. That was the limit of her power, and Ava knew it. Go straight for the heart if you intend to kill someone with regenerative abilities. The pain was immediate, searing. Shadow gasped and would have likely collapsed on the spot if it weren't for Ava's hand on her shirt keeping her pinned upright.

Shadow's mind was already racing, the fighter side of her analyzing the dozen ways she could flip the tables on Ava. After all, she still held a blade of her own in one hand. She could use Ava's close proximity to slash her throat open. But she didn't. She couldn't bring herself to hurt her friend, even if her friend didn't share that feeling and was fully willing to kill her.

Shadow raised the hand holding the weapon, watching Ava's eyes flick to it and track the movement -- and let it slide through her fingers to hit the floor with a clatter.

"I refuse... to fight you... anymore..." She rasped hoarsely, Ava's dagger still buried deep in her chest. Ava frowned in obvious confusion.

Trembling, Shadow screwed her eyes shut, bracing against the pain as she suddenly threw her arms around Ava, chin on her friend's shoulder as she pulled her close in a warm embrace. "It's -- ungh-- o-okay," Shadow whispered into Ava's ear. "Archenemy... is making you do this... it's not... your fault..." Her voice cracked. "I forgive you... and I'm with you... to the end. I'm sorry... I couldn't save you..." Shadow's voice trailed off into a weak mumble. There was another slicing pain in her chest as the dagger was suddenly yanked out, and Shadow crumpled into a heap on the floor when Ava let her go.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove

[the-dawn-star]

Place to Stay part 25(Klaus M. x Gilbert!Reader x Elijah M.)

A/N: Hello everyone and I'm really sorry about the long wait! I haven't been feeling great and I am completely lost with this story so I would love to hear your guys's ideas about the story. All comments and likes and stuff are really appreciated!!

-S

+2300ish words, proof read by @Ana_Mia_Lisa on ao3.

Lying in bed with darkness surrounding me was comforting. I could forget who I was and the deeds I had done on the last day or two. The only problem was that I laid in that massive bed alone, while Klaus moved to one of his many guest rooms. I felt bad for taking his bed, but Klaus had insisted on it. He had insisted on the fact that we should not go further than the kisses we had shared after I showed up on his doorsteps. I knew I might be annoyed by his behavior now, alas, I would probably thank him for that. But having the room only to myself made me feel like I wasn’t being watched at every second.  

I pulled the cover over my head, giving myself a nice, dark place. Being alone in the darkness, I felt a knot of hair at the back of my hair and I let out a deep sigh. I have had a headache since I first woke up. I had been up for nearly an hour trying to fall back asleep, but my thoughts didn’t let me do that. Instead, I had fallen into a quiet, hyperventilating mess, and because of a miracle, no one had heard me.

This time it didn’t take an hour to fall asleep. After all, I was exhausted. I had been exhausted for so long. I was asleep for minutes but it didn’t give me the rest I was so desperate for. My dreams are filled with images of Damon’s blood covering my body, of me killing him for good. But none of those images brought me joy.  

--- 

The raindrops hitting the window woke me up a third time. My sleep had been restless so waking up when my body didn’t any less rested as I felt when going to bed didn’t really surprise me. But it was calm, and mostly quiet except for the tiny dripping sounds of the raindrops. 

I closed my eyes again, hoping to get back to sleep. But the sleep would not return to me. Instead, the rain was overshadowed by fighting somewhere in the house. It was known that the Mikaelson family had its own issues but still; I wished I could yell at them to stop and let me sleep for just a minute longer. 

But all the sleep was pushed away from me when I heard my name being yelled at by a person I had known my whole life. I forced myself up and out of the warm covers and took one deep breath. Talking to my sister was going to be a hell of a screaming match and I was nowhere near being ready for that. 

I put my college pants back on and quickly made sure I was looking at least semi presentable. 

Walking out of the door was a shock just because the first thing I heard was my name being screamed once again by my sister. I didn’t want to see her face full of disappointment and anger that I had become so accustomed to. 

I walked to the first floor trying to find the source of the yelling. 

Also in the living room was my sister Stefan while Kol was lying on a couch, clearly intrigued by the screaming. Klaus meanwhile was sitting in an armchair, but the hybrid didn’t seem as impressed as his brother with the topic at hand. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, walking in and getting everyone's attention. 

Klaus almost jumped off of his chair and came to me taking a hold of my hand as if asking if I was okay. I smiled at him trying to reassure him of my mental state and turned my attention to my sister. My sister who looked disgusted by my closeness with the hybrid. 

“What is going on?” I asked again and walked past Klaus to my sister. 

“You really need to ask what was going on after you let Elijah and Klaus torture Damon and then stabbed him yourself.” 

I knew Elena was going to be upset but still it always hurt to see your only sister, only surviving family being upset by your actions, and your actions only. 

“Oh, calling it torture is a very big overstatement and I’m sure Damon is just fine and recovered from his wounds. And after all you have been there to nurse him back to help, I’m sure.” Elijah said, leaning on a door frame. 

I had to be thankful for Elijah saying something before I could embarrass myself. What I didn’t like was the clear innuendo that my sister was being more intimate with Damon than she should have (not that I had any room to judge how she spends her time). 

Kol let out a laugh enjoying the drama more than anyone should, but judging an immortal vampire was barely my place either. 

“What is it?” I asked as calmly as I did not want to continue bickering. I took my sister’s hand to mine trying to unpack the tension in the room. First, Elena looked at my hand that was holding hers and then turned to look at my face, unsure what to do next. I smiled at her, so dearly wanting to infuse the situation. But she did not respond and lowered her gaze from me. We all waited for a moment in silence.

“We came to take you home…,”  Stefan said, when it was clear that my sister wouldn’t be speaking. 

“Why would I come with you…?” I asked, confused, but I couldn’t pull my hand away from my sister's gentle grip.

My name was whispered so quietly that I almost missed it, before turning to my sister. 

“I- I found Jenna’s ring, you know the one that she promised you. I- I was wondering if you still wanted it…” 

For a quick moment, I didn’t see my sister in front of me. I saw the young girl who was terrified for life and cried silently at our parents' funeral. A young girl who was just as traumatized by her past as I was. She missed them so much, even if she didn’t talk about it with me, but she did miss them. She most likely still blames herself with Jenna’s death, and a clump traveled to my throat and my headache sent needles to my temples. I wanted to sleep, sleep on my own bed and fall into a deep sleep where I couldn’t be woken up by tiny raindrops. 

Another stab went through my head and the bright lights forced my eyes to flutter, trying to be okay with the lighting. 

“Yeah…, I- I would still like it if it’s okay with you.” 

“Of course…,”

“Let me just get my stuff and you know get ready…” I said, before letting go of Elena’s hand and almost ran away back to my safe haven. 

I threw the door open and ran to the small pile that included yesterday's clothing, clothing that was partially covered in Damon’s blood and tears. I bit my lip and turned away from my clothes. 

I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his clothing for a moment. 

I checked that the door was closed just to be sure, before hesitantly walking to Klaus’s closet. I wanted to be quick for the people downstairs and grab the first t-shirt and sweatpants I could find. 

I pulled my catch against my chest before hearing a low laugh behind me. 

I let out a small squeak out of panic and turned around only to see Klaus leaning on the door frame. For a moment I waited for a teasing comment by the hybrid about seeing me changing. I smiled already waiting for the comment, but it never came. Klaus looked mad and clearly had no time for humor. I let my smile fall and I pressed the pile to my chest, like it could protect me from anything.  

“Is something wrong?” I asked, kind of scared of the reaction I might get from him.  

“Your sister seems nervous…,” Klaus said quietly while walking right in front of me and I couldn’t help but to take an involuntary step back.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, wanting to stay oblivious to the subtext but I saw the anger bubbling under his skin. 

But in my mind, I wanted to scream, for once I had a good feeling about my sister. About the possibility of me not crying myself asleep for a fucking once. That I could have a nice day with my sister. So why, why was Klaus trying to ruin it?  

“Don’t...,” I whispered, warning him of something that I had no power to do.  

“I’m trying to keep you safe, when you clearly cannot do it yourself.”  

I had seen Klaus angry many times before, but not once had that anger been towards me. But now I can understand the reactions that my friends gave when they were the reason for his anger. *

I took another step back until the backs of my knees hit the bed.  

“Maybe she is just scared of being in a house with the man who killed her aunt.” 

I saw immediately that Klaus’s gaze softened. At least he had some sense of understanding to look apologetic. We hadn’t talked about the happenings of the full moon when Klaus had broken his curse and I was more than happy to bury it deep inside of me. I had learned to look at how bad the situation had been in all parts but still it didn’t mean that I didn’t miss my aunt.  

Klaus whispered my name and brought me back to reality with it.  

“I’m sorry, is that what you believe that I might care about your well-being?” Klaus was clearly annoyed by my distrust but still understanding of me wanting to be on my sister's side.  

“I don’t know...,” I admitted and let myself fall on the feather light bed.  

Klaus walked in front of me and pressed his warm hand against my cheek. His touch was so gentle and such a rare sight of kindness. I wanted to melt to his touch, I did melt to his touch. I wanted to kiss him and tell him of all the things I wanted to do.  

A tiny smile got to my lips. 

“If you cannot believe me, let’s say that what I'm about to do was my idea, and my idea alone..., can you accept that?” There was a tiny sense of pleading in his voice and my need to kiss him grew even more.  

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I whispered, not sure if I was saying yes to the hybrid’s plan. Maybe, it was just a statement without any correlation to anything we had spoken before. 

“No one needs to get hurt… You trust me, don’t you.” 

I looked up to see the gentle face of the man who had committed such horrible acts throughout history. I leaned to his touch. 

“Yeah, I trust you…” I admitted and took his hand to mine, carefully pulling him down to the bed with me. And to my surprise Klaus sat down next to me without a fight. 

“You are so beautiful, love…” Klaus said so quietly that I barely heard him but still his words got a smile to my face. It was nice to know that someone found you pretty, especially when normally you were mostly ignored by the people around you. 

But I had never been too good with telling my feelings to the people that I cared about. Particularly to the people who didn’t need to be around me. 

I didn’t know what to say. Was there an obvious answer to someone calling you pretty? 

So, I leaned in, giving him the time to push away, but he didn’t, letting me kiss him. 

There was no fire in the kiss. Just a gentle kiss, where both parties are scared of scaring the other person away. Like the fear of breaking the surface of the calm ocean that surrounded us. 

I pushed myself closer to him and pressed my hands to his chest slowly giving him the hint of laying down to the bed. Klaus got the hint quickly but wrapped his arms around you and took me to the bed with him. Klaus’s hands went up and down on my body, melting me to his arms. I was basically laying on top of him, trying to not to crush him. I needed to feel more, more of him, more of passion, more of anything that would keep my mind out of the mess of this town and its people.  

Klaus’s hands traveled down my back to my hips, while gently pulling me closer to him. Maybe Klaus felt the same way, maybe he is just as tired as I am. Maybe this is one way that he can feel like in control, like he isn’t just a pawn in someone else’s game.  

Maybe I could make him feel better about... well everything. 

But like so many times before, there was an unnecessary interruption.  

Someone cleared their throat and had to push myself off of Klaus’s touch that I wouldn’t simply ignore the person interrupting us.  

Klaus seemed clearly as bothered by the interruption as me, but still let me get off of him but didn’t bother sitting up as I did.  

But when I looked at the door, I simply wanted to die. Die and crawl to the deepest part of hell where no one could ever find me. Because at the door was standing my sister, who had nothing but bewilderment on her face, and Elijah who seemed to enjoy the situation a lot more than it should be allowed.  

“Hi...;” I said, trying to break the absurd tension but not succeeding as well as I would have hoped.  

“Are you ready to leave...?” I liked to think I knew my sister well, and moments like this proved it. There was a tiniest bit of anger and pain in her eyes. But she still tried to keep it together and I appreciated her for not yelling in front of Klaus and Elijah.  

But I knew what was going to happen.  

Taglist:

( @dark-night-sky-99 @venomsvll @teenwolfbitches28  @haloangel391  @queenthorin1 @ollieandbonnie @hcqwxrtss123 @redwolfs-things @theweirdoleigh @mostly-meg @fandom-princess-forevermore @musically-ambiguous @isawritesstories @felinegrate @i-like-horror-andshitt @original-siphon @meyocoko @eddiebea @multistanhell @haroldpotterson @anastacia1705 @fictional-characters-i-love-them @beingsthings @kiaraandrea @hazgold @hallecarey1 @ethereal-imagies @pinknerpersona @ lil-writer-523 @malfoylaufeysonweasleybarnes) @queen-of-arda bellamy1998 @susannahmikaelson @kleinegamerin @alnitakstarsky03 @meme-queen-1999 @hellish-witch

[keenzinemugstudent]

Vasco x thicc reader! Thighs!!!

(Second Story here👇)

Okay okay but hear me out *take in a deep breath and let out a loud sigh* Thighs! Now you can't tell me that Vasco isn't a thigh man y'all can not tell me this sweet innocent sweet gentleman looking boy isn't attractive to your thighs! okay here goes one day Vasco was at his crush house (aka you) cause you asked him to watch a new movie that just came out yep it's kind of like a date I guess and while sitting down eating popcorn and pizza in the living room both watching the TV, when all the sudden Vasco's eyes started to wonder and they just so happened to land on your thighs! He was blushing like an idiot he liked everything and I mean everything about you from your smile, personality kind nature but what he loved the most were your thighs. He was honestly trying not to be rude for starring for to long and didn't want to be a creep but come on whenever he got hurt or had a headache from his fights protecting people from the bad guy's you always offered to let him lay his head on your lap to rest. He would try to decline a blush on his cheeks but you'd just tell him it wasn't a problem and lay his head on your thighs playing with his hair he absolutely loves when you played with his hair while telling him he'd done a good job defeating his opponents he always shred tears of joy when you praise him like I said this boy loves you so much! He had asked Jace if it was normal to like your thighs so much, even tho shocked/embarrassed Jace being a good friend said it was okay to like your body parts it was normal (Jace was blushing like an idiot but was happy that his friend was finally becoming a man well more manly I guess back to the date!!!)

You noticed that Vasco was quiet so you turned to see him not looking at the movie but at your thighs.

"Vasco?" He looked up startled from being caught handed you just smile, "Y'know if your tired you can lay down on my lap." The poor boy was blushing like an tomato

"I-i'm sorry Y/N I didn't mean-" you just laugh at the flustered boy.

"It's okay really! I don't mind!" You move the popcorn bowel from you lap and pat your thighs with a smile, Vasco nervously laid his head in your lap with his face still red you just chuckle and start playing with his hair making him relax eye's closed and hands on his stomach.

"Y/N's skin is so smooth and soft!" The boy thought to himself or so he thought...

"Aw well thank you Vasco." You kiss his forehead making him open his eyes in shock starring up at your smiling face his eyes look at your pink lips NOPE his down soul done left his body it was to much for the poor guy he was out like a light. You started to panic trying to wake up the leader of the Burn Knuckles

"Vasco? Vasco? H-hey! Wake up!"

Hey at least he died in a peaceful way right?

Well that was fun to write here another one warning it's long and kind of lame⬇️

[thranduilsperkybutt]

requirements.txt=unsatisfied

Pic source: 1

Pairings: Johnny Silverhand/V!Reader; Exceedingly minor Goro Takemura/V!Reader alluded to Warnings: Endgame spoilers; Arasaka!ending; I take liberties with the ending (everyone lives AU); yearning; fighting; nsfw banter (no actual explicit behaviors); angst with a happy ending; mentions of canon-typical drug use and violence Word Count: 9,936 words Reader Gender: Female Author: Meg Summary: Johnny always wants a lot of things--- a smoke, a good fuck, for you to turn the radio to 107.3 instead of that new age crap you like. In a perfect world, he'd like to have his own body back, too, but this isn't a perfect world. This is Night City, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to forgive you for going and doing this. Turns out that being in love requires being unsatisfied. A/N: Look. I finally finished playing the game as corpo!V and I will not live with these endings, alright? I'm gonna make my own.

“Think they make shitty motels like this just for screw-ups like us?”

You make a point to continue staring at the ceiling of the ‘shitty motel’ room, deep breathing the mildew and age-old cigarettes. He isn’t wrong, but you don’t want to hear it right now. He always has a way with words. Wiping your hands down your face, you do your best to ignore him, but Johnny wasn’t the most dismissible parasite you’ve ever had.

“’Parasite’s’ talkin’ to you, fuck-up,” he flicks his cigarette butt at you in retaliation for the thoughts in your head and it glitches through your thigh with a fuzzy tickle in your neurons. “Do ya’ really think Arasaka is gonna’ just let you waltz away after grabbin’ that stuck-up bitch princess of theirs? You’re fucked.”

“Was fucked before that, Johnny--- royally, if you’ll remember,” you groan, and turn away from him. He appears on the other side of the bed, leaning over it to glare at you. “Got you to show for it, after all.”

“Why are you so chill about this? Takemura fucked you both by deciding to take a life-sized souvenir from your trip to Cherry Town---"

“Cherry Blossom Market---” he barely acknowledges your interruption; you doubt he cares about the situation past hearing himself talk either way.

“--- and you’re just gonna’ do what? Sit here like a ditched date, waitin’ by the phone for that ‘Saka scum to call?”

“Johnny,” you push yourself up into a sitting position, headache threatening a presence at the back of your skull. The edges of his shoulders have that glitchy quality you’ve come to know follows his movements at times when he crosses his arms, but his glare is clear as ever.

“What? Don’t like me callin’ him that?” he rolls his eyes as he certainly feels your annoyance spike, “Jeez, didn’t think you could ride ‘Saka’s dick any harder, but if you literally want to---”

“What crawled up your holographic ass and died tonight?” you bark back, and the glint behind his eyes tells you that this is what he wanted all along. A fight, interaction, anything other than you just melting into the stained mattress of this motel room while the fan drones overhead in excruciating monotony. Johnny’s at his worst when he’s bored or cornered, you’ve found.

“I don’t know, V, maybe the fact that while I’m livin’ in your head, I’ve gotta’ listen to all your disgusting little thoughts about that Grade-A asshole? I’ve never had a dry spell that’d make me wanna’ sleep with a corpo drone, but maybe old habits die hard for you, huh?” You try to ignore his jab at your corporate background, but you know he just can’t help himself, “At this rate, alert a joytoy pronto, because I think I’ll throw up if I gotta’ watch you eyefuck your ronin anym---"

“You’re so fucking annoying sometimes, Johnny, you know that?” you rub your temples, trying to bite back the heat in your cheeks. No telling if it was from embarrassment at his inevitable acknowledgement of your major-league crush on Goro, or an oncoming stroke. At this point you are wishing for the stroke.

“You say that, but you’re not havin’ to watch how pathetic you look waitin’ on Takemura to call. Shit, even that cop you turned down would be better than this guy.”

Rising to your knees, you point a finger directly against his chest, feeling the fuzzy presence of your fried synapses mistaking him for something real at your fingertips, “Know what? Maybe I will fuck Goro the next time I see him, just to screw with you. Maybe I’ll finally get some peace and quiet when you slink back to God-knows-where to hide in my head while I lay back and take it from the big, bad, ‘Saka scum.’”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growls down at you, the fire in his eyes flickering from your own to your lips and back again. “If you wanted me gone, you’d’ve taken those omega blockers by now.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’d take a half-dose of pseudoendotrizine just so I could kick your ass, if it wouldn’t mean kicking mine, too.”

“Now, there’s a thought,” he reaches out, pushing you back by a phantom grip on your shoulder. Your body flings itself onto the mattress without a thought, “But I don’t need a pill to kick your ass, remember?”

“Asshole,” you grumble defeatedly, but his anger seems to dissipate, if only a little.

“Bitch,” he chuckles, and it’s a short sound of disbelief. “Don’t pout like a damn kid.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of mean, Silverhand?” you look down to where he still stood beside--- no, knelt onto, now--- the bed. His lips are quirked into a slight smile, one brow raised like he doesn’t quite understand just why all your annoyance has seemed to sink away into the dingy carpet and rotting walls of this place. Maybe it’s the exhaustion settling into your bones?

Or perhaps it’s the uneasy feeling in your gut when he looks at you. Despite the mountain of resentment your soul screams that you have every right to have at him for stealing your life away from you with every waking second, you can’t seem to bring yourself to hate him.

He clicks his teeth thoughtfully, dipping his weight onto the knee he has on the bed, but it doesn’t creak under his weight or acknowledge his presence, “It may have come up, once or twice.”

He isn’t really here, the soft static framing his hard edges reminds you.

“Why, then?” Why does he keep falling into the same pattern? Why does he treat you like this? Why does he look at you like that afterwards?

You don’t ask any of those questions, but you don’t have to. He’s in your head, after all--- but you think he’d be able to figure them out even if he didn’t have a front-row seat to your every thought. You still aren’t sure how much of your consciousness he is privy to, but you know it’s enough for him to know more about you than any other person ever has.

At this point, he might know your mind better than you do.

You wish you could read his half as well.

“Maybe I just don’t like watchin’ you run head-first into what’s bound to be another shit-show’s all, choom,” he deflects, but his eyes don’t turn from your gaze. There’s something guarded in them, sure, but they soften all the same.

You sit on his bullshit explanation for a few seconds, tasting the thought on your tongue, “Is that what we are, Johnny? Chooms?” It’s an unsatisfactory descriptor, but you don’t know if there’s a word in the English language that can accurately describe what you are to each other.

“I don’t know, V. Are we?”

Before you can even think of an answer, the sound of your holo ringing breaks through your ears and Goro’s image appears in your optics.

Johnny huffs and just like that, any softness in his gaze disintegrates with a roll of his eyes, “Go on--- know you’re giddy as a schoolgirl to answer that.”

“Fuck you, Johnny,” you grumble, before picking up the line and watching him straighten up off the bed before disappearing from your gaze in a static glitch. “Goro---”

“V, meet me, quickly as you can. I’m sending the coordinates.”

---

Your fingers run over the markings of Johnny’s initials you’d just carved against the metal. It’s jagged, raw, and as good a headstone as he was ever going to get, given you’d probably never find where his body had been truly laid to rest. In a city like Night City, after so many years? He’s lucky enough that Arasaka had dumped his body at all, instead of incinerating it like most folks these days.

“There, how’s that for a marker?”

Johnny leans back from where he’d been moping and gestures to your makeshift headstone, “Say this was my real grave, what would you write? ‘Here lies Johnny Silverhand…’”

The words roll around your head in tandem with the pit of dread in your stomach. It didn’t feel right talking to him like he was dead, even though the rational part of your mind knew it was true. The real Johnny Silverhand died more than fifty years ago, and you were left talking to a ghost--- a copy that seemed close enough to the real deal, but you never would be able to know if he was a good one. More recently, though, he’s started to seem just as real as the ground you walk on and, while you know that’s something to be deeply worried about, you can’t help but have come to enjoy his company.

When he’s not being an asshole, that is.

For better or worse, he was, “The guy who saved my life.” You’d been through so much--- everything--- together. It hadn’t been intentional on his part; he’s only a piece of broken prototype tech going haywire in your head, but it was still true. He’s saved you in more ways than one, lately.

The words sink into him, dragging his shoulders down like the same ache you feel in your soul. His eyes meet yours beneath his sunglasses, holding you in a regret so deep that you think it will swallow you both with the knowledge that he’ll be the death of you.

Johnny reaches up, metal fingertips clicking on his shades in a way that’s so honest in your ears that it’s difficult to remember it’s just another one of your disconnected mind’s lies anymore, “You don’t know how much I want that to be true.” He pulls the barrier from his face to dangle between his knees as his free hand wipes at the perpetual dirt on his skin, “Listen, I realize I’ve fucked up a lot of things. Either let down or used every last person who gave me their trust--- blind, selfish bastard that I was--- but I’ve managed one thing, for now. Not to fuck this up. What we have.”

Johnny’s always wanted a lot of things--- a smoke, a good fuck, for you to turn the radio to 107.3 instead of that new age crap you like. He's rather demanding, day in, day out.

You've been privy to his every request as it flits through your shared head for long enough that he’s come to annoy you nearly as much as he's grown on you. He’s like moss overtaking a stone, so slow that you don’t realize it until he’s covered all of you. He’s changing you into something neither of you can quite recognize anymore, and as the days pass, you worry you’ll never be able to wash him away and return to the person you were before him.

Worse, you don’t know if you will want to.

“What do we have, Johnny?” you sigh, looking up at the light-polluted sky. You weren’t far enough out of town to see stars, just the dim void and flickering city lights reflected on the clouds above. Maybe if you were at camp with the Aldecados, you’d spot a star among the dusky sky. Maybe life would seem simpler, easier, “I don’t know what you want from me.” All you know for sure is that you were growing so tired of the fight. There’s this hurt in your chest; you can’t tell if it’s yours or his. Maybe it’s something you share. Maybe this is what he means.

Or something close to it, “Most of who I thought were my friends, well, it turns out they couldn’t hardly stand to be in the same room with me. But you?”  You hear him pause, but you don’t dare to look at him. There’s a stammer in your chest, and you’re terrified at what it means, “You’re forced to be right fuckin’ here, twenty-four-seven, and you don’t seem to hate my living guts.”

This silence is something you can only achieve on the outskirts of the city, but you know it would be worse if you were further away. It’s almost excruciating, being alone with your thoughts--- being alone with his.

“There a point in there?” your heart aches for him, and you know he can feel it. It’s more than pity, more than friendship, but you try your hardest not to think of what it could possibly mean--- let alone, say it.

He knows, though. Of course he does. He has to.

“Just that… I think you’re my first real choom, even though you’re a real bitch sometimes.”

Your head lulls forward, and it takes all your strength to muster a glare at the pained smile dancing at his lips. There’s more to it than that, you both know it, but you’re grateful that he’s feeling somewhat merciful tonight--- it was something you didn’t know he had in him.

Maybe it’s only something he has in him when it comes to you.

“Chooms, huh?” tilting your head, you pretend to mull it over like it’s a proposition of eddies from a fixer. Playing it off with a shrug, you concede, “I could get used to being Johnny Silverhand’s choom, I guess, even though he was a total dick at first.”

“As if you didn’t deserve it,” Johnny smirks.

“Uh, remind me again, who’s been whining about missing his smokes since day one?” it’s a half-hearted blow, and his widening grin shows it. “Better yet, beggin’ me to get my rocks off?”

“My own personal hell is being stuck inside a non-smoker, and it doesn’t help that you’re practically a nun,” you toss a rock at him for that, and it goes straight through his chest like he isn’t even there. He isn’t, but he grins at you anyways, “Still… who’d’ve thought we’d make it this far?”

You sit there for a beat, feeling your own smile turn at your lips, before sighing, “You know, if you really want a marker, we could get you one at the columbarium.”

“For what, an empty box?” shaking his head, he puts his shades back on to perch atop his nose.

“Please, I have more of your stuff than even your most devoted fanboys. I don’t need it all. We could, I don’t know, ‘retire’ something of yours there. You know, as a symbol,” his gaze weighs heavy on you, and you can’t for the life of you understand what’s going through his mind. It frustrates you nearly as much as his stare seems to, and you shift your gaze back to the sky in your attempt to escape his holographic scrutiny.

“Let me guess, you’ll bring me flowers every day?” it surprises you that his tone isn’t mocking, but rather curious. “Would you visit his grave?” he seems to ask.

Trying to lighten the mood, you tease, “You know me, too busy trying not to die for all that.” You look back to him with a wink, “Plus, preem flowers are expensive these days, choom. ‘Fraid you’ll have to settle for the synth ones. Besides, you seem like a cheap date to me.”

“Bitch.”

“Just say, ‘Thank you.’”

It’s as close as either of you will come to what you really want to say.

---

From the roof of Misty’s building, it’s almost as if the troubles of the city no longer exist. You think you understand why Jackie found his choice up here. It seems as good a place as any to choose between life and death.

You would have to come to yours, too, soon. Maybe you already have, and you just don’t want to admit it.

The thought dwells in your head, and it feels like the only choice that makes sense.

“You’re not considering that. Please, tell me you’re not seriously considering going to those bastards again for help,” Johnny’s voice tears you from your dreadful stare over the neon Night City advertisements staring back at you. Promising everything from NiCola to the market version of the prototype Relic crammed in your head. “You’re trying to make sense of something that makes zero damn sense!”

You think he might wind up hating you forever, for this.

“Takemura said---” you begin, but he cuts you off as he stands from his spot on the ledge overlooking the city and takes up pacing.

“Fuck that guy!” Johnny rounds on you, fiery as ever--- but there’s something more terrible in his eyes; a grief that only comes from knowing he won’t be able to change your mind. “You’re just takin’ the easy way out! Those ‘Saka bastards won’t stay true to their word, you know. All they do is lie, and they’ll keep lying to you so long as it gets them what they want from you. You can’t really believe they’ll help you or me!”

The truth is, you’re too tired and you don’t know what’s worse: the taste of blood on your tongue, or the look of disappointment in his eyes.

You should be at least used to the blood by now.

“I’m dying, Johnny. Hanako is the only person who can maybe help us. Name someone else. Anyone! They made this tech---”

“They’re only gonna’ hurt you. We can do this a different way,” he stops pacing to stand so close that you can swear his boots touch yours. It’s as if you could feel the heat radiating off him, but that may just be the fever settling deathly into your skin, “Hell, give me the keys and I’ll get us to Mikoshi. I’ll burn this whole fuckin’ city to the ground to get you there and I’ll throw the pieces of you back together myself! I’ll gladly die trying---”

“But I don’t want you to die, either,” you fight back the tears at the thought of it, and he huffs down at you in utter exasperation, “can’t you get that?”

“Think they’ll do any better by me at Arasaka?” his chuckle is humorless, coming strained from the back of his throat. “You don’t believe that.”

“I can cut us a deal…” you look down, away from him, blinking out beyond where he stands towards the city lights. You don’t want to fight with him right now. You don’t think you can.

“With what leverage? Deals are only good so long as you have the upper hand, V,” he kneels into your eyeline, reaching out to grasp your chin in two silver fingers and turning you to face him fully. It’s gotten to the point that his hands on your skin feel akin to something real, dulled synapses firing with every spark of his hands on your skin. It’s how you know you’re close to the end. “Who is gonna’ be in your corner after they get everything they want?”

“Goro’s a man of his word.”

“You’re so fuckin’ naïve. Just as dumb as you were when you took that bullet to the brain from Dex, and I had to save your ass then, too,” Johnny growls your name like he hates you for it, but who knew how much you would come to welcome the end? Because when he frustratedly drags you forward by a harsh grip at the back of your head to eclipse his lips over yours, you can feel it. Him. In the burnt neurons of your addled mind, he is there against you--- kissing you with death on the edges of his lips, in all the heavy grief and anger that your choice has brought forth in him. It’s a terrible knowledge that pours from you into him of how much you’ve come to love him, and how desperately you know he’ll hate you for this, because maybe he’s right; maybe you really are naïve for wanting to believe in some way out of this.

He gasps against your lips like it wrecks him to the core; voice hoarse with the emotion as he curses, “Damn, you’re one stubborn bitch.”

“Inherited only your best traits, Johnny,” it’s just as dry on your tongue, and you lift your hand that has been clutching the omega blockers to your lips. You want to say it--- tell him in words how much you care for him. Instead, you murmur against his lips, “Please, don’t be mad,” and swallow the pills.

“I got a feeling you’re gonna’ regret this, choom, and I won’t be there to help you,” he leans away, and you feel the drugs start to kick in when his voice becomes more distant. “Don’t do this. Miracles like the one you’re hopin’ for don’t happen for screw-ups like us, you know.”

“Trust me.”

“I wish I didn’t trust you at all,” he sounds just as tired as you do when he says your name one last time before you blink and he’s gone. The bitter aftertaste of the pills tastes like betrayal on your tongue, and you already know Johnny will haunt you for the rest of your days.

You’re quickly reminded of why you’ve always hated taking the omega blockers.

It takes everything you have left not to sob at the feeling, like you’ve lost a limb--- gone numb and tingling painfully with the ghost of where he was. It’s as if everything is muted, including the deepest parts of yourself. You’re in a bad way, and you know you don’t have much longer now.

So, you find yourself committing to the desperate choice you’ve made, but you don’t call Hanako.

Instead, you call the only corpo you trust besides yourself, and hope it isn’t stupid to do so.

Takemura.

---

He is dressed in all white when he comes to find you at Misty’s Esoterica, looking like a harbinger of death in every sense of the word, “You… look like shit.”

“Don’t look half bad yourself, Goro,” you chuckle, but it turns into a wracking cough that leaves you with a more urgent taste of blood at your lips.

“Are you in any shape to negotiate?” he wonders, but it’s not threatening--- more of a genuine concern displayed with the arch of his brow. Johnny may disagree with you, but you still dare to think him a good man.

“Not in much shape to do anything, anymore, but I know exactly what I’m useful for. My eddies are on Hanako knowing this, too,” you lean on the arm he offers when you stumble on your way to the car. “After all, she sent you. Smart woman.”

“I would have come even had she not,” Goro confesses, pausing with his metal-laced fingertips on the back door. When you shoot him a questioning look, he offers you only a simple, “We have done much work to not see this through to the end, yes?”

“Who’d’ve thought we’d make it this far?”

Goro nods in agreement, before you’re sliding into the car behind Anders Hellman and hoping the Swede knows half of what he thinks he does about your condition, “Agreed.”

---

There’s something to be said for dying. It’s not always as bad as people make it out to be.

Some people would consider you dead. You always find yourself wondering what Johnny would think, these days.

You absentmindedly turn the Rubik’s cube in your hand with no real aim at solving it, letting your mind drift in the overly sterile room Arasaka’s finest clinicians have sequestered you to.

“Barbaric,” Goro called it once, but that didn’t stop them from putting you right back here again. The news plays softly on the screen you’ve been allowed to have after they determined it wouldn’t exacerbate your oversensitivity, but not even the privilege of phoning what few friends you have left can eat away at the boredom that’s settled into your bones in this space station. What was there to say, anyway?

Hi, it’s your favorite lab rat again! How’s it going in the real world? I’m going insane up here!

You can’t help but dwell on the thought that maybe Johnny was right about it all. Maybe it isn’t worth living if life is going to be like this.

Arasaka made no guarantees past what you had signed for on the dotted line the day Hanako had again sent Goro solely to break the news that your body was dying even after Johnny’s Relic had been extracted from your mind. It would seem the soft spot you’d held for Goro was well known by the Arasaka heiress. The woman is nothing if not strategic.

Hell, you’d gotten yourself a worse deal that day than you’d gotten for Johnny at the start of this. After all, you’d had nothing left to bargain with by then.

You were technically a construct, now. A lab experiment dreamed up by Arasaka’s best bioengineers and a team of physicians lead by Anders Hellman. Your current body was a multi-billion eurodollar joint Arasaka-Biotechnica venture that had only been put at the top of Hanako’s list when implanting her father’s construct into Yorinobu had gone awry. You’re convinced she would have been content to let you rot on a biochip in Mikoshi for the rest of your existence otherwise. After all, your contract never said when they had to provide you with a body, only that they were obligated to when the technology existed to allow it.

Turns out, rewriting someone else’s psyche does more damage to the physical body than anyone in Arasaka thought it would. You don’t know why it was such a surprise to them all when Yorinobu’s body couldn’t handle it, considering what it did to you. Maybe they just didn’t care, with how desperate they’d been to get any semblance of leadership back.

All you know is that Johnny Silverhand probably rolled over laughing in his grave, wherever it is, when Saburo Arasaka died a second, painful death.

They were using you as a top-secret prototype for Saburo 2.0, as you’ve come to call what will inevitably be the body they attempt to stick him in next. Sure, Arasaka as a company is facing charges in the New United States on Yorinobu’s death--- something about human testing that everyone knows will never stick--- but that will be swept under the rug much like any bad press Arasaka has gotten over this past year, with either cash or bullets dispensed.

“Shit,” you curse as you grow frustrated with the cube, tossing it onto the thin hospital mattress they kept on your bed. Rubbing your eyes as you try to refocus, it still feels strange to not feel the metal embedded in your skin. Worse still, you had to get used to what a fully ‘ganic body felt like again.

“You even human anymore, with all that chrome?” you can almost hear Johnny’s words to you when you got a new set of mantis blades from Vik’s clinic right before heading out for the oncoming fight at Clouds with the Tiger Claws. It was so long ago, now, but it doesn’t feel like it. That’s what Mikoshi does to a person, you figure. It’s hard to fully comprehend that so much time has passed.

Sometimes, you think you do hear him in more than just a memory. Like he’s still there, in your head. The doctors say it will pass with time, but they’ve been wrong before. Safe to say, Johnny literally changed your brain chemistry.

At least some part of you hopes they’re wrong, because you don’t know how you’ll make it in this world without him if Arasaka doesn’t stay true to their word.

It’s like you’ve lost a part of yourself, and you regret it more every day that you’re forced to live in this white box of a test tube that they’ve put you in. You should have died with him at Mikoshi. Gone out in a fiery blaze of glory and torn it all down with you, if only it would’ve made you feel a little better right before the end.

His last words to you had been as you went under the knife, right before they carefully excised him from your brain like a tumor.

“If this plan doesn’t work, Johnny--- If you wind up being right about Arasaka---” you had called to him through the code, as it weaved and curled around his form. It created and destroyed him all at the same time, but Johnny’s frown was still clear as day to you.

“I’m right about Arasaka,” he sounded nearly as exhausted as you had been on that roof the last time you’d talked. Defeated was something you’d never expected to see on him, “See? You haven’t changed at all. Still think you can outsmart the whole world, when you’re really just out of your depth.”

You didn’t want to think of this as a betrayal, but that’s what it was starting to feel like as you marinate in his sadness, “Look… I just want us to part as friends, for now. Just in case I don’t get to see you again after this, I wanted to tell you goodbye as proper friends.”

“Not sure that’s possible, anymore,” cut you to your core.

You wanted to reach for him, through the flickering code, but you didn’t dare. Heartbreak tastes a lot like blood on your tongue, even here.

“That’s what we are, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, V. I just… don’t know.”

It was all you could remember of the interaction, though you’re certain there had to be more than that. Sometimes, when you dream instead of sleep, bits and pieces of it come back to you. That’s what you think it is, at least.

It’s far too real to be any normal nightmare.

It sounded too familiar when he said things like, “I just wish you’d stayed loyal to yourself,” or, “Those ‘Saka docs are cutting out a piece of us. Something we’ll never get back. It’ll leave a hole,” in those horrible dreams where memory emerges from the subconscious.

Perhaps this is just what you deserve. Your penance. The price you’ve got to pay for your choices, and the deal you made with the devil.

After all, nothing in Night City is ever free.

Multiple lifetimes of suffering, of being forced to go on without him? It’s almost poetic, in a Shakespearean tragedy sort of way. If this body fails, Arasaka will just test your construct in a new one until they get it right.

You’re company property and the Biotechnica cloning program is only in its infancy. Anders Hellman had told you as much himself when you’d asked.

“You’re one of the first successful cases, so far,” was, specifically, what he’d told you. It wasn’t much; Arasaka clearly wanted you in the dark.

You’d already proved too much trouble when left to your own devices, historically.

Have they brought you back before? How many bodies did you live and die in before this one? They could’ve wiped your memory of it, or maybe cut your engram into a million different pieces until something fit. You would never know the truth of what’s been done to you, most likely.

The door to your room slides open with a whirring noise, breaking you from your thoughts when the same scientist who you’ve come to understand is one of your daily handlers walks in, “It’s time for your daily tests.”

You try to not let the sarcasm drip from your tongue, but you’ve been failing at a lot of things these days.

“Always a pleasure to see you, too, Suki.”

You are dead, and this is just purgatory.

---

They eventually shipped you back to earth, “in accordance with the great progress you’ve displayed over these past few months,” as Anders had told it.

Earth was exhausting. Even though the Arasaka lab they had put you in had all the comforts of home, save for the overly-clinical aesthetics, it still took weeks for your body to become accustomed to its own weight. It was only then that you realized the space station’s simulated gravity was slightly less than that on earth, to allow for less pressure on your new joints and bones as your mind settled in. It’s perhaps why you had been able to relearn walking in the first place, because on earth you were much clumsier than you remember ever having been before.

There were bruises on your legs from the amount of times you’d tripped down or stumbled into something. You’re surprised they hadn’t yet put you in a padded room, but you must’ve been making progress, because eventually they sent a familiar face to see you again.

“おはようございます,” without translators installed into your body’s cyberware, the words that fall from Goro’s lips as he offers a slight bow take a moment for you to mentally decipher.

You don’t rightly care, because you’ve not seen a familiar face other than Anders since waking up in this body. Let alone, anything close to a friend.

He stiffens and freezes when you step forward to drag him into your arms, holding him in a tight embrace that almost has you melting against him with how much of a relief it felt to feel another person. It’s too forward, and you’d never have done it under normal circumstances---

But you’re so relieved to see him.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” you murmur as you release him, catching the slight tinge of a flush at his cheeks. He straightens his shirt, donned in black from head to toe. His hair isn’t pulled back, for once; it’s a little longer than when you had seen him last, “You look great, Goro.”

He seems to relax slightly at the familiar words, as if he hadn’t been quite sure what to expect of you at first. You watch as he takes you in, optics dilating as his settings switch with the distance you put between you again. It makes you slightly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

You know you look different. Sure, the core basics of yourself are the same, but you’re slimmer than you were before in this cloned body. Your cyberware is gone, as are the scars from a lifetime of mercenary work. Any tattoos you had were no longer etched into your skin, including Johnny’s. Then, there’s that new Arasaka logo brandished behind your ear that matched his own. The only good thing about your new appearance was that your hair had finally grown long enough to cover the logo when you left it down.

“You look like shit,” he cracks a smile after a second, “but it is good to see you, too.”

“What are you doing here?” you wonder as he walks further into your designated quarters, hands clasped behind his back, “Don’t tell me you get to tell a girl she’s dying twice.” He observes the room not unlike he did when he’d visited you on the space station, though seems less displeased with your living situation this time.

He doesn’t say, “barbaric,” at least.

It’s your words that earn his chastising side-eye, this time, “You should not joke. I do not want to do that again.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” the prodding does nothing to urge an explanation from him as he moves towards the desk on the other side of the room. The metal on his fingertips glints with sunlight as he moves the papers lying there--- some of the most recent status reports you’ve been given on your performance in Arasaka’s testing. A lot of it was redacted, but you were given just enough to know you weren’t dying currently.

That, they seemed to be taking as a win.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as his optics dart back and forth on the papers, reading them quickly. Surely, he’s had a briefing before he’d been sent to see you. Maybe he just doesn’t trust it was a full picture, or he wants to know what parts of it you know.

Settling into the couch, you reach for the tin of mints you’ve been hoarding recently. Popping one into your mouth, you turn it around as the fresh flavor bursts through your skin, scent sparking in your nostrils.

“Playing doctor now, Goro?” that gets him to look up from the papers to shoot you an unamused look that said just answer the question. You sigh, nail tapping the tin as you take a moment to get his answer, “Well, I’m tired and sore all the time from the physical therapy, and hypersensitive to almost fuck all. Oh, and they still won’t let me get any chrome installed--- even the minor stuff like optics.” You sigh, and the minty feeling tingles on your tongue, “Do you know how much deliberating it took for the white-coats to finally decide I was ready for an operating system update?”

“And the nightmares?” Goro turns away from the desk to instead lean on it, crossing his arms as he looks towards you. So, he had a more thorough briefing on your status than you expected.

You avert your eyes. It was bad enough having to talk to the mandated shrink about them. You really didn’t want to get into what plagued your mind with Goro.

“They’re nothing. It’s the physical symptoms that Arasaka cares about. That’s what’ll get Saburo a new body or not, right?”

He doesn’t let you off the hook that easily, “Arasaka has underestimated the impact of the mind on the body once already, at great cost. I do not think your mental state is considered ‘minor’ to your doctors and scientists, V.” After a moment’s pause, he confirms what you are thinking, “It is not considered something to be ignored by Arasaka’s board, either.”

“Is that what you’re here for?” you can’t help the irritation that seeps into your tone, “To give a first-hand report back to Hanako Arasaka and the board on my progress? Came to see the test subject for yourself instead of just reading the memo?”

“V…” his brow furrows, frown settling onto his lips as you turn your body away from him on the couch.

“Well, you’ve seen me! I trust you’ve gotten all the spicy details you need for your report on my mental status.”

“くそ,” he swears under his breath, as if exasperated with your antics. There is a stillness that comes with the silence between you after that, and you don’t dare turn to him. Instead, you focus on the tin in your hands and the mint in your mouth. Anything other than the pit in your stomach at the remembrance of the nightmares that plague you more nights than most.

There’s a shuffling of clothing and the sound of footsteps approaching as Goro comes to stand beside you, “You are… hypersensitive to words as well, it seems. Look at me, V.” You refuse to do it, and he sighs. In your peripheral, you can see him move to sit beside you on the couch, “Hanako-sama does expect me to relay your progress upon my return, but that is not the sole purpose for my visit.”

“Why’re you here, then?” it may be childish to still refuse to look at him, but you can’t bring yourself to. You feel as if nothing will be as it was before--- like even though you’ve fought terribly to return to normal, there would never be a moment when you felt like yourself again.

“You are being released.”

Your head snaps up to look at him when he says that, utter shock undoubtedly on your face. His own expression remains level, rock steady as he always seemed to be. You can see the truth of his words in his eyes; he has no reason to lie to you. You doubt Hanako would put him in a position to knowingly do so anyway.

“Released?” you breathe the word. You can’t quite believe the truth in his eyes.

“Hellman’s team has decided you have progressed as much as can be expected in a clinical setting. They think you are ready to return to a more ‘normal’ routine. I am here to tell Hanako-sama if I believe they are correct, based on what I know of you… who you were, already,” Goro holds up a hand, quelling the excitement he undoubtedly sees blossoming in your eyes. “This does not mean a return to what your routine was before. You cannot return to mercenary work.”

“So… I’m to live as a civilian, then?” you shift your whole body to face him, legs folded beneath you.

“In a sense… you will still be under Arasaka’s supervision, expected to meet every scheduled appointment and test. If you miss even one, you will be collected and returned here. There are other requirements, but I will leave those to be explained by your care team,” Goro watches as the news sinks in. He looks away, admitting, “I am maybe not the best to answer any questions you have about this.”

“Will I be staying in Tokyo?” is all you can think to ask, mind racing at the prospect of even a little freedom from this quarantine.

“At first, but I believe the goal is to reintroduce you to Night City should you continue to progress---” his words are choked off when you quickly grasp hold of his shoulders, pulling him into another hug. Just like before, he freezes, though this time he recovers enough to loosely hug you back.

“Thank you, Goro, for everything.”

---

The Corpo Plaza apartment didn’t feel like home, but it was closest to Arasaka tower and the Biotechnica building--- both of which you have to visit frequently. Well, at least it was less frequently than when you’d first been sent back to Night City, but it still wasn’t worth the constant drive from a different district.

Your fingers trace along the metal outlining your face as you glance at yourself in the mirror, having just finished a shower. The cyberware embedded in your cheeks is similar to what you had originally, though slightly different. You like it all the same, even if it had to be approved by Arasaka first. Every day you felt more like yourself, but you doubt you’ll ever be 100% you again. Too much has changed for this sense of newness to ever leave.

Even when you had reconnected with Victor, he looked at you like something uncanny. A dead woman walking. Misty could barely manage to look at you at all. Panam and the Aldecaldos had migrated; you were still waiting for her to return your call to figure out what they were up to these days. Judy was long gone, but getting out of Night City was maybe the best thing she could’ve done after everything.

Only Johnny’s old contacts seemed to remind you of who you were, and perhaps that’s because they’d never truly gotten to know you too well. Then, there was the feeling of loss that still gripped your soul. The ghost of Johnny Silverhand haunting your every thought and plaguing your dreams at night. You doubt you’ll ever be free of him. You hope he never fully fades from your psyche.

As much as it hurts, you still love him.

In hindsight, that’s probably the real reason why it would never work out between you and Goro. You’re still holding a torch for a dead man, and you’ll never be truly satisfied with anyone else.

In the end, Johnny has truly ruined you. Maybe it’s his last laugh: your complete inability to move on.

Your deal with Arasaka at the beginning had been for them to save him. To put him away into Mikoshi for the rainy day that the technology existed for a body suited for him to be a reality. The contract required them to release him into Night City after he had been deemed healthy, but you knew as well as anyone that contracts like these had loopholes even with the best lawyers pouring over them. Arasaka could truly do whatever they wanted with him once he was out of your head, other than destroying his engram.

When you had asked them the status on them holding up that end of your bargain, you had been met with cryptic answers. Hanako refused to meet with you, and you were in no shape without your combat cyberware to hunt her down yourself.

You’re terrified, honestly, at the idea of never seeing him again, nearly as much as you fear facing him.

Sighing, you step away from the mirror to move towards your bedroom while you towel-dry your hair as best you can. Tomorrow you were to report to Arasaka for your end-of-the-year testing and physical. Hellman would probably personally chastise you for the pizza you’ve ordered tonight. It was far from the approved meal plan, but it wasn’t as easy to find food that fit the diet and still tasted good outside of Japan. Finally, you understood Takemura’s issue with Night City’s synthfood.

Still, if one slice of pizza was going to kill you, you figure it’s a good enough way to go. Anything beats being an Arasaka pencil-pusher for the rest of your days.

“Night City Legend, Felled by PieZ,” the headlines would read, and it wouldn’t even mention the billions you’d cost Arasaka if you died.

Water drips down your jaw and you wipe it away with the towel before tossing it into the hamper. Scooping up an oversized sweatshirt that screamed support for the debut album of SAMURAI, it soaks up the few water droplets you’ve missed when drying and effectively covers the dog tags against your chest. Looking down at the hamper, you wish that Arasaka would sign off on you having a pet finally. Nibbles was doing fine at Victor’s, but you missed that furless cat.

The sound of your holo ringing is accompanied by Goro’s face flashing in your caller ID, and you pick up after a few moments, “Yo?”

“こんばんは,” Goro appears with his hair pulled up into a bun, and you could’ve been fooled that it was the old days if not for the few extra gray hairs he seemed to have now. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“What? You worried I’ll disappoint?” you roll your eyes at his pointed look. “You know I’m doing great now, practically would be back to my old self if they’d ever let me get my combat cyberwear.”

“And you know that Arasaka has invested too much in you for you to involve yourself in a Night City street fight. Do not think they will approve all your requests tomorrow, V, regardless of your progress,” he speaks reasonably, and maybe that’s what grinds your gears the most. You know good and well that Arasaka has everything riding on you. If you successfully keep from pushing daisies they’ll move forward with Saburo’s resurrection. Hell, maybe they already were. For their one and only living test subject, you’ve been doing relatively well, if not a little hypersensitive at times still.

“Not every fight in Night City is one you pick. What if I need to defend myself, huh?”

“Do you feel in danger? Has something happened?” Goro’s voice has an edge to it, concern, and you shake your head.

“I’m just making a point. Most folks who die in this city are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. My combat chrome would give me an edge again. Call it an investment in keeping me alive,” you snort, and Goro’s lips quirk upwards at your dry humor.

“You can plead that to the panel tomorrow after you pass all their tests. I think you should… what is the phrase? Not get your hopes up?”

“Did you call me just to bum me out, Goro?” you sigh, moving through your kitchen to rummage through your fridge and find a NiCola.

“Only to discuss reality.”

“I think you’re just scared I’ll kick your ass with all my chrome one of these days for how sassy you are,” the sarcasm drips from your tongue, and this time Takemura does sound thoroughly amused.

“I would like to watch your attempt at that, but I think you will need to remove the pizza from your diet first, V,” then, he hangs up. Never one for drawn-out goodbyes. You think you prefer it that way.

“I could’ve kicked your ass while on an only-pizza diet, once,” you grumble to the apartment around you, taking a swig of the NiCola. The ring of the doorbell breaks you from the thoughts of just how you can get back at Goro for that comment, “Speaking of pizza…”

Barefoot, you stroll towards the door, hoping the delivery guy followed your instructions to leave your food at the door. You don’t want to deal with awkward small talk with another human right now. Not bothering to check the cams to see if your instructions have been followed, you let the door slide open with a swipe of your hand against the key screen.

The door is barely halfway open when a hand catches your throat and forces you back into the apartment, a body forcing you up against the entryway wall as you choke out a startled noise under a firm grip. Terror claws at your skin as you grab at the arm attached to the hand before you manage to get a good look at him when he stills against you, breathing hard. It takes a moment for wide eyes to take in enough of his features to recognize the dark eyes staring back at you.

“J---”

“You couldn’t help yourself from being corpo scum again, could you? Selfish, that’s what this whole thing was--- what you are,” his voice--- oh, fuck, his voice, it rings in your ears in a way it never has before. Deep, familiar, and real. Strained with anger and choked with a breathless fury, but something else breaks against the fire swirling in his eyes--- some relief that settles nearly as devastatingly in your bones as his skin lays heavy and warm against yours.

You can’t believe it. You must be hallucinating. You’ve finally cracked and lost it. Something was malfunctioning in your head, certainly, because there’s no way he’s here.

Your fingertips shake as they reach out, away from the firm grip he still has on your throat, to ghost against the slope of his jaw. The scruff of a beard still remained there, but was shorter than how he had lived in your head. The scars on his face were gone, along with the tattoos on what skin of his you can see beneath the leather jacket he wears. His left hand was at your throat, and it was made of flesh and bone, not metal.

He swats at your hand when you finally touch him, a hurt in his voice that was so real that you couldn’t trick yourself into believing he was just a hallucination, “Did you ever think about what I wanted, huh, when you chose this?”

But you still can’t get past the sight of him, finally managing, “Is… it really you?”

“Fuck yes, it’s me. What’s wrong with you?”

“Johnny,” you gasp his name, nails digging into his pristine forearm, tears nearly blinding you as they well in your eyes at the overwhelming emotion that surges from your chest. You can’t hold it together, trembling against him, and only then does his grip soften at your throat.

His voice sounds devastatingly mournful as he growls in the quiet of your apartment, “You sold us both to fuckin’ Arasaka, V. Look what they did to you. You’re their property. Doesn’t it make you sick? Some things are worse than death, and I doubt ‘Saka will ever leave us to it, now.”

You hear what he’s saying. It sounds just like him, and your heart breaks at the sound. At the warmth of him, and the way his dark hair ghosts around his cheeks slightly shorter than you remember it being before. He’s really here, and he hates you.

His voice cracks, “Why are you crying?”

“I-I missed you,” you confess between the sobs, trying to swallow up the emotion. Damning yourself for not holding it together better than this at the sight of him, but it was such a shock, and only one thing could run through your mind as dreadful regret sank into your soul, “a-and now you’re going to hate me forever.”

He looks at you like he’s stunned by the words coming from your mouth, or maybe he’s shocked it’s all you’re capable of saying when you’ve betrayed him as thoroughly as he perceives.

“Shit, V,” he murmurs, reaching up to drag his thumb against your cheek and wiping away the messy tears that trailed there. He looks down at you like he’s almost annoyed at you for crying, but there’s a strange look in his eyes that you can’t fully place. “I wish it was something as easy as hating you, but I just can’t seem to catch a fuckin’ break.”

The confusion at his words nearly stuns your tears into small hiccups as you breathe, “What?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hate you,” it sounds like dread on his tongue, like fear and grief for the situation you’ve both found yourselves in. It sounds like a confession, from his lips, “I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for what you’ve done to me, either. I haven’t felt right without you since I woke up in this damn useless body. Feels like I should still be in yours.”

A breathless huff escapes you, almost akin to a laugh, as you realize what he’s trying to say, “You missed me, too, huh, rockerboy?”

“You’re the only thing about this damned city I missed,” he crowds you in, pressing you fully into the wall with his own body. “Not drugs, not alcohol, not music--- I came back here for you. Bein’ clean and having to put up with those ‘Saka corpo-drones has been the worst time of my life, by the way, but I did it because they said you were alive.” He looks at you, a hint of incredulousness in his eye, when he asks, “What the hell kind of a deal did you make with them?”

You’re terrified to tell him, but you can’t lie to him. Not after everything.

“I’m the reason Saburo Arasaka will live.”

Johnny curses, fury twisting his face, but the defeat is worse, “I should hate you. Fuck, why can’t I hate you?”

“I’m sorry---”

“Don’t lie to me,” he cuts you off, biting, “you’re not sorry. You don’t care if Saburo Arasaka lives or dies so long as we get to live.”

“Fine, you’re right,” anger flares in your own gut, exhausted annoyance lacing your tone, “but is that such a crime? I want to be okay again, Johnny! I want you to be okay, too!”

“And you’ll sell our souls for it?!”

“God, you’re such a dramatic asshole!” you nearly scream, slamming your eyes shut in your distress, “Go ahead and blame me for falling in love with a dead man, too, then! I should’ve known it would kill us both, but I couldn’t stop myself from loving you, Johnny! I wouldn’t have been able to go on knowing I’d left you to die, okay? That’s why I did this! Call me a selfish bitch if you want to; maybe you’re right---”

“Yeah? Well, I guess maybe I’m to blame for falling in love with a selfish bitch,” he growls, so close that his nose touches yours, and your eyes snap open just as he leans in to crash his lips against yours. It’s not wholly unlike the last kiss you shared with him, when he was just sparks on your neurons, and yet it’s entirely different.

There’s a taste to him now, but it’s not the cigarettes you had expected, but more akin to nicotine gum. Has he stopped smoking? He smells like leather and some sort of amber-scented cologne that has you weak in the knees.

But the way he kisses you is what nearly scrambles all coherent thought. He’s so warm and firm against you, the reality of his touch, tongue, and lips against yours desecrates the memory of the slight stimulation your neurons had simulated when he’d been in your head. Johnny seems to be in no better a state at the feeling of you against him, gasping into your mouth when your hands find his hair to drag him closer, and all the while all you can think is how happy you are that he is alive here and now.

It barely feels like it should be real.

He parts from you, catching his breath and staring at you with a look that sends heat rippling down your spine, flushing your skin in its wake.

You blink at him, head lulled back, and whisper through the feeling of having him back, like some piece of your soul coming home, “Fuck, I missed you, Johnny, so much.”

“You’re probably the only one, choom.”

“That’s not true. There’s Rogue, and Kerry---”

“They got their closure when I was hitchhiking in your skull. How can I just waltz back into their lives now?”

You tilt your head at him, “It can’t be that the Johnny Silverhand who was never afraid to die, is actually scared to live?”

He scoffs, leaning away from you with a roll of his eyes, “Is that the kinda’ psychobabble your ‘Saka shrink has been feeding you?”

“Could be,” you shrug, and a glint of the light at the metal around your neck catches his eye, “don’t mean it isn’t true.”

“What’s this?” he invades your space again, dragging a fingertip to loop at the chain at your neck, leading beneath your sweatshirt, and tugging it until the necklace drags into view. Dogtags clink in his hand and his eyes snap back up to yours in shock, “These--- you still have ‘em?”

Your cheeks heat with the find, and you don’t know why it’s so embarrassing even after you’ve told him that you’re in love with him. Of course you would’ve kept his dog tags. It only makes sense, but you want to defend it. The words crawl up your throat, and it takes all you have to swallow them down.

Instead, you reach up to begin to remove them, “You should probably have them back, now.”

Johnny’s hand catches yours, stilling it, “I… don’t know if I’m ready to step back into ‘em right now. ‘Sides, maybe I like the look of ‘em on you.”

You search his gaze, but he seems sure enough about the decision, “Alright. I’ll keep them, for now.”

“Good… It suits you,” a ring of the apartment door breaks you from whatever scrutiny weighed heavy in Johnny’s eyes. “The fuck is that?”

“My pizza this time, I hope,” you huff, pushing him back just enough to escape from between him and the wall. “I don’t know if I can take two of you showing up at my door tonight.”

Johnny trails after you, watching you open the door and pluck the pizza box from the ground where the delivery guy had left it as instructed, “Good news, there’s only one Johnny Silverhand.”

Turning towards him, you smirk, “Luckily.”

“Screw you.”

“You wish.”

[doyouknowbtsswag]

Drunk Confessions |Bang Chan|

I smiled and watched everyone party about the awards we won. There were of course drinks more specifically alcohol. It's been hours of us partying and I had my fun and drinks but I was too exhausted to get drunk. I was running out of steam but the boys seemed to be having the time of their lives. Well, not all the boys the younger ones still didn't have the tolerance to drink much so they were passed out on the couch. Han and I were the only ones not smashed but we were pretty tipsy so when we brought Jeongin and Seungmin to their rooms we stumbled a bit but we both knew they wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Honestly, I don't blame them for knocking out so fast they just wanted to have a good time on top of that we won a few awards. After getting the two into their dorms Han and I went to ours.

"Good night," I said my words a bit slurred.

"Night," Han said back his words slurred as well.

I got ready for bed I felt like two and a half hours of partying was good enough. I laid in bed still hearing the music being blasted but I didn't mind as long as I was laying down. The music finally died down two hours later giving me the chance to fall asleep now. I closed my eyes but then heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I asked annoyed drinking some water as I was mostly sober.

"Chan" I heard in a very slurred tone. "I wanted to talk"

"About what?" I asked a little nervous as he walked closer to me sitting on the floor in front of me. You could tell he was drunk by the way his eyes looked and how relaxed his body is then usual.

"Why are you always pretty?" He said leaning his head on my bed and looking at me. "I don't understand it"

"Chan-"

"Shhhh," He said putting his finger gently on my lips. "Let me talk"

I just nodded as he took his finger away from my lips. He smiled and giggled watching my confused face.

"I like you," He said.

"Chan that's the alcohol talking," I said looking at the man I've had a crush on since the beginning.

"Wait I lied," He said.

"See the-"

"I love you!" He giggled grabbing my hand.

"Chan please don't lie to me," I said shakily, maybe I'm just imagining it maybe I'm not fully sober.

"I'm not," He said frowning. "Why would I lie to you?"

"Why all of a sudden? Why now?"

"I just wanted to, do you not love me back," He said looking down.

"No!" I said before pinching the bridge of my nose. "That's the complete opposite, I do love you"

"See! We can be together" He smiled happily as if he were a kid.

"You won't remember this tomorrow" I chuckled.

"How could I forget you?" He said his head bobbing back and forth.

"Here come in bed," I said scooting over so he could climb in. I know I can't drag him to his dorm and I didn't want him on the floor.

"Okay.." He said as his words got softer and softer. Once he got in bed he looked me in the eye one last time before he passed out."I really do love you..."

"I hope you remember this" I whispered running my fingers through his hair admiring him before falling asleep myself.

I woke up and felt arms around me. My head hurt from drinking but I remembered everything. I tried to escape Chan's grip which only grew stronger. I turned around and saw him with his eyes closed.

"Stop moving I'm trying to sleep" he mumbled.

"And I'm trying to escape," I said still fighting his grasp.

"Stop and stay for a little more," He said opening his eyes.

"Do you even remember last night?" I said looking away from him.

"Not some of it but what I told you" He cupped my cheek and made me look at him. "Was all true, I love you I have for a while but never had the balls to tell you"

"I love you too"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was too scared," I said.

"Guess we both could've been together a while ago if we told each other."

"It took one drunk night to get a confession," I said as he grabbed his head groaning. "Was it worth the headache?"

"Yeah because we wouldn't have told each other our feelings if last night didn't happen."

"You should probably get cleaned up I'm gonna go get Motrin and make hangover soup for everyone," I said as he finally let go.

"Fine," He said getting up. "I love you"

"I love you too" I smiled softly before leaving the room the only other person up was Han.

"Good morning ready to deal with hangovers and laugh at them?" Han said.

"For sure" I smiled as we got to work.

[leeizzy]

Roy hates rainy days. It's not only because of his fucked knee. No. Roy's been hating those days with every part of his aging body. Ankle, muscles, headache, even the one joint on his right fucking pinkie. He hates those days, when they remind him the fact he is pushing forty.

"What do you want, grandad?"

Roy growls through his teeth.

"A fucking fucked Precious Moments collection figurine."

Nothing personal, really. That one little prick has always been the sort of shameless in the most annoying way. Jamie Tartt frustrates him. With his messy hair, glistening skin and sparkly fiery eyes under the rain and frail sunlight. On and off the field, he reminds Roy of something he can't shake. So yeah, maybe it's a bit personal. And bitter.

~~~

Roy hates rainy days, when clothes smell moldy and trainers are ruined faster. Even he has money now to afford a cabinet of fancy water resistant ones. Still a bitch to clean all the dirt and mud though. He thinks to himself, watching Jamie wipes sweat off his face and isn't it just the pinkest shade of pink.

"What's next, coach?"

"Breakfast. Rain's getting heavy." 

His knee has been telling him to hurry up already. 

"We'll have about 10 minutes to reach my place before..."

"Roy! Please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I might throw up now."

Jamie puffs and clutches at his arm, trying to stand straight, with both hands clinging to Roy. They stands still when a bunch of kids running by, splashing water in an enormous puddle on their trainers. The warmth on his elbow is comforting, strangely, soothing his ache from cold air that rain always brings.

~~~

"Sorry. I don't know where else to go."

Roy has thought he was drowning, the moment he opened his door to a bruised and bleeding Jamie Tartt at 2 in the morning.

Jamie sits in Roy's kitchen, in his night trackie, oversized t-shirt, messy walnut hair and hands bundled up in his niece's dragon blankie. No word has come out since he walked through the door. Every thing feels so wrong, when Jamie is anything but a cocky mouthy little bubbly golden retriever. It makes Roy sick in some way. As if nothing makes sense and the world is spinning out of his callous hands. 

There'd always one or two kids, every year, through out his days in the academy. Jamie doesn't want to say and Roy doesn't need to ask. He knows the kind of scar you'd have from a beating like those. He sees it in Jamie, the same eyes he still haves, facing his own shitty parent, even though any one of them is no longer a defenseless child. Different excuses, but the stories are still the same. He cleans up the cut on Jamie's cheek in silence, with all the calm and softness that he can muster in himself.

"I don't mean to bother..."

"There's a couch in the living room. A bed in the guest room." - and some space on my bed, - "Pick one, Jamie."

Rain is tapping gently on his window. And Roy can't seem to sleep. He keeps waking up from a nightmare, or perhaps a long buried memory, that there was screaming and banging out of his bedroom door, the sounds of gentle rain, rumbling thunders and someone's distant crying.

Roy stares at the wall that restless night, thinking about Jamie's sleeping in a room downstairs across the hall.

~~~

Roy hates the rain. 

It's like Pavlovian or some shit. It worries Roy, whenever he senses the cold and the smell in the air. His heart drums a loud and steady rhythm, expecting, but dreads a knocking sound that could come on his front door. 

"You're still welcome when the sun is still up in the sky, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Even when I'm not beaten or soaking wet or drunk?"

"Yes, you prick."

I'm so fucking sorry. That's what he's been trying to say all this time, after one particular night outside the kebab place, at arse crack hour in the morning, fighting over some stupid thing.

Roy tosses Jamie a towel, turning away, because he's definitely not ogling at him and those glassy eyes, or fighting the urge to wrap Jamie up in said towel himself. The rain is making him shiver. 

"Don't want to come knocking only to find out that you're not home, coach."

"I really doubt that, Jamie." 

He always looks so young and fragile, standing like this on his doorsteps. Every fucking time. Soft light dances on Jamie's skin and Roy lets out a breath, knowing the baby prince (of pricks) is not bleeding or hurt anywhere, in any way. His trendy white shirt is almost see through, hugging him tightly, that sends some kind of jealousy to Roy's mind.

"What? So no fun night, ever, with some lucky lady, sharing a bottle of wine?"

"Are we talking about you or me?"

The familiar voice follows him inside, kicks off their private little dance. Roy turns on the stove. This is usually the moment Jamie would ask for tea and he would hand him a glass of warm milk.

"Aw. You'll make such a good house wife."

"Yeah yeah. It's just fucking work and groceries, and home for a wrinkly old spouse like me." - Roy doesn't mention almost every waking moment training and caring for a rising fragile footballer, of course.

Jamie fills the space with laughter. It feels nice, having him here, knowing he is safe. Roy contemplates, relaxing in the heat that is spreading from where their knees touch under the kitchen counter.

"You know. I used to have a poster of you on my wall."

"I know. I saw it. And you still."

Jamie smirks, throwing a tissue at him.

"Do you what I do when I look at it?"

"I don't know, draw on it?"

Roy slips off his chair, gets on his good knee to pick up the tissue and ask himself, exactly what he had let Jamie done to him. So many things, apparently. Curse? Decorative wall paper? Throw darts at it? At his heart? The possibilities are endless considering how far their relationship has come. 

"Nah. I would never ruin my mom's gift." - Jamie plops down the floor right in his face. - "Always want to do this more."

All his answers are out the window, the moment Jamie put a kiss on his lips. It was soft, in the most painful manner, but planted with bravery and hope, just on the corner of his mouth. Roy ends up staring at those blue grey eyes. They are screaming in his silent home, that 'this is it, either a penny or a fucking pound'.

He manages to look strong even when terrified. Fucking bastard, and his drunken careless bravado. There's no whiff of alcohol on him. Good. Neither of them makes a sound. So Roy can't help teasing him just a bit, letting Jamie's brain goes into panic mode with frantic scrambling and rambling. 

"Right. Um. Well, yah know, If you want to punch me now, or figuring out a way to let me down easily, I just want you to know that I respect you. Always been. And I lo- Ah... I'll be gone, no-, in a..."

Roy shuts him up with a proper kiss this time. Under his kitchen counter, Jamie's smiling silly on his lips, beaming brightly like a gorgeous sun.

Roy still hates the rain, though. Not that much, mind you. But maybe, secretly, he loves what it has brought him, sometimes.

*Inspired by this fic 'Fragile' - by gingerwren

[moon-alight]

Bf Yuma! Comforting you on a bad day

Of course. <3 Sorry for the wait, here you go.

Masterlist

My Way - &Team Yuma

Synopsis: You have been feeling terrible ever since you woke up and now you come home and get greeted by your sadistic loving boyfriend.

Warnings: swearing, slight burn-out, relentless teasing,

Word Count: 991

Note: Suteki means 'beautiful or gorgeous' it's a Japanese nickname.

It started with the headache you had when you woke up, it went away after a couple hours but you were still stuck at school. The time has never gone by as slow as today and to add, on your way home it started to rain and of course you didn't have your umbrella with you.

Life sucks. School sucks. Rain sucks. Everything sucks.

You walk inside the dorms where you went to almost automatically. There is a faint voice coming from the kitchen. There is one thing that doesn't completely suck. You think to yourself.

"Hey, buttercup!" You shrug off your jacket and look at Yuma who had just walked inside the room with a smirk. "How was your day."

"Don't remind me." His smile falters at your hostile answer. You take off your shoes and put them next to the door.

"You're soaked." Yuma points out when you walk closer towards him. You can't help but glare.

"Really? I didn't notice." You reply, sarcastically. It was the first time Yuma heard you like this. You are a sunshine to him, more happy than not, seeing you like this breaks his heart a little.

He takes your hand and without a word, drags you towards his room. You enter and watch as he takes a couple of towels from the closet and wraps them around you.

"You should've checked the weather before you went out." He tells you, moving back towards his closet and taking out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. "I can't believe you've been so reckless. You could get sick." A small smile forms on your lips at hearing him scold you gently.

"I'm sorry." You mumble and look down. Yuma's eyes soften and he hands you the clothes.

"Get changed before you really do get sick. I'll wait here for you." You take the clothes and stumble towards the bathroom. You get changed and make sure to dry your hair before walking back out.

When you enter his room, you see him sit on his bed with his arms open waiting for you to hug him. You smile and hobble over, climbing into his embrace and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"Now tell me, Suteki. What happened today?" You snuggle closer into him, if that is even possible, and sigh.

"Bad day." You breathe out. Suddenly, you hear Yuma mumble the lyrics of a song.

"Cause you had a bad day, you're taking one down You sing a sad song just to turn it around"

"Stop it."

"Oh, so you actually had a terrible day. . ." Yuma replies, stroking your hair. "Want to talk about it?" You shrug.

"I had a headache and school didn't go well, it started to rain and I forgot my umbrella."

"You had a bad day, the camera don't lie You're coming back down, and you really don't mind"

"Yuma, please." You groan when you hear him resume the song again.

"What? Thanks to you that song is now stuck in my head!" He replies. "You're the only one to blame."

"It's not funny." You tell him though there is a smile growing on your face.

"No?" He asks back. "I can feel your lips curve against my neck."

"No, you're wrong." A sudden tickle in your side makes a giggle escape you. "Yuma!" He does it again, and even though you try your best to fight it, you still laugh.

"I can't really believe you had a bad day, you're laughing a lot." He teases, continuing to tickle your sides.

"Alright-- YUMA!" You scream, he finally stops and you catch your breath.

"Let's go get some drinks from the kitchen to calm you down, huh?" He asks, moving away from you embrace and standing up. "My girlfriend is possessed, she suddenly started laughing." You gasp at him and stand up too.

Before you know it, you're chasing him down the hallway towards the kitchen. Yuma had always lived for teasing you, it's one of his love-languages.

"Nakakita Yūma!" You yell, finally stopping when you're standing on opposite sides of the kitchen isle. "Apologize!"

"For what?"

"I don't know, calling me crazy maybe?" You say, glaring at him.

"I never said that!" You cross your arms over your chest. "I never did! You're hearing things, Suteki."

"Yuma!"

"You had a bad day, you're taking one down You sing a sad song just to turn it around"

"YUMA!" He laughs when you playfully hit his arm. "Stop it! I had a terrible day, you're supposed to comfort me!"

"I am." Yuma replies and pecks your lips before opening the fridge. "I just do it my way."

"Your way sucks." You tell him and lean against the counters with your back.

"Does it?" Yuma asks, walking up to you with a smirk on his face.

"Yeh." You reply. "This could've been my thirteenth reason!" Yuma tries his best not to laugh at your sarcastic tone.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Hold me!" You reply, annoyed. "Hold me, hug me, kiss me, tell me it's gonna be okay!" Yuma sighs and puts the bottles down on the kitchen counter before walking to you and pulling you into his arms.

"Everything." *kiss* "Is." *kiss* "Going." *kiss* "To." *kiss* "Be." *kiss* "Okay." *kiss*

You smile softly, finding this terribly funny but you try so hard not to laugh. He would be smug about it if you did.

You soon realize you are lightly swaying left and right as if dancing to no music. You close your eyes and let out a content sigh as your head rests against your boyfriend's chest, his arms still protectively around you.

"It's pretty pathetic dancing without music, huh?" You ask softly, grinning to yourself.

"You want music?" Yuma asks and smirks.

"'Cause you had a bad day, you're taking one down You sing a sad song just to turn it around--"

"YUMA!"

[deathanddiatribes]

Grieving and Breathing

Being a funeral director involves a lot more public speaking than you would expect. There's a certain amount of the gentle reminders and people-herding required for any type of event, but then you get that family that looks utterly lost when you ask about an officiant for the service and suddenly you're being asked the worst and most inevitable question:

"Can't you do it?"

Many funeral directors will boast that they are 'certified celebrants'; this means they took an online course taught by another funeral director about how important it is to make eye contact and assure the family of your personal connection. I'm sure it helps some folks become more confident speakers and more competent directors, but it mostly seems like an overpriced encore of a high school speech class.

I go on this tangent mostly for context- where I currently work, families are actively encouraged to make their funeral director their officiant, which means my public speaking duties have become less a side effect and more mandatory. There was a script developed for us to work off of for these occasions where we are asked to officiate a funeral- it's short and secular, easy to customize per a family's taste or instructions. I don't mind it really; as far as scripted readings go, I've had to work with far worse.

There is a section in this script where you (the officiant) ask those present to pause, close their eyes, and intentionally breathe deeply in unison. If you're reaction to that is 'oof- that is some woo-woo white lady bullshit,' you are on the same page that I was initially. I felt embarrassed to look at a room full of grieving adults and ask them to breeeeeathe in deeply. But it was in the script. So I started adding in a joke- usually something about being a yoga teacher- to ease my own discomfort, and the obvious discomfort I would see on some of the faces reflected back at me.

Why was this so uncomfortable? Why was I embarrassed to ask people to fucking breathe? What I realized, when I let myself sit with my own feelings, was that I was attempting to relieve the discomfort that we feel when we remind ourselves of the fact that we have bodies.

We are taught that our bodies, our flesh, is inherently embarrassing; our bodies belch and itch and smell unpleasant and none of those things are polite. There is a heaviness to the shame we associate with bodies- we are the wrong shape, the wrong size, too exposed to the world. So we cover our skin and retreat into our minds where we do not have to acknowledge that we have a body. Because if we acknowledge and connect with the bodies we live in, we must accept that our bodies break, and they age, and they die. Our bodies follow the same path as the body at the center of a funeral- a body that is now actively breaking down. And that is frightening to acknowledge.

There is another aspect to our discomfort in our bodies though- and that is grief. Our bodies- our muscles and organs and bones- all grieve, just the same as our minds and our hearts. We say, ‘it’s just a headache,’ or ‘my back always hurts,’ without pausing and letting ourselves understand that those aches, that tension, is also part of our grief. I watch people actively fight the need to cry nearly every day in my line of work. When you're crying you feel less in control of your body. The emotional response of your physical form to grief makes it difficult to talk, to move, to focus. Grief is experienced by the body as trauma, so it's only natural that it triggers the 'fight, flight, freeze' response in your brain. Grief ignites the parts of our brains and our bodies that are trying to keep us safe from danger because those systems do not have the ability to distinguish between the trauma of a loved one's death and a physical threat.

That's' where breathing comes in. Breathing is unique in that it is both an involuntary action and a voluntary one- meaning that we don't have to think about breathing to stay alive, but we can actively control our breathing when we need to. When that 'fight, flight, freeze' response is triggered, our autonomous nervous system (the part we can't control) sends our breathing into high gear because it's getting ready to defend itself against a threat, either by running, hiding, or defending itself. But there is no threat. So there is no discernible end point for your body to register that it is safe again. And if you body does not think it is safe, it will keep your systems in that state of 'readiness', which translates into your body staying in a constant, exhausting state of stress.

The only part of this loop that we can actively change is our breathing. We can deliberately slow and deepen the rhythm of our inhales and exhales, giving our bodies a clear signal that we are not in danger. Once we relay that signal, the body can start to return to a baseline. Once we understand that we are safe, we can begin to process, and eventually heal.

I don't make a joke about breathing anymore. I intentionally face my discomfort in a hope that those who have gathered in grief can do the same. Being a human in a body is hard, and living in a body that is disregulated is even harder. So breathe. Close your eyes and take deep, slow breaths. Relax your jaw and drop your shoulders. Death has come and has left, and you are safe in this moment.

Breathe.

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

so I think I might have had a really bad allergic reaction last night. Description of a somewhat scary medical episode below.

I went into my room to go to bed and suddenly felt lightheaded and short of breath. This isn't uncommon for me so I thought "I'll just take my meds and lay down and then it won't be an issue anymore". When I laid down I suddenly got a really bad sinus headache, my throat hurt, and my face got really hot. I was like "fuck" because when my face gets hot it usually means I'm about to throw up. Except I didn't. Instead, I started to feel like I couldn't breathe. This happens because of anxiety sometimes so I started taking some deep breaths to try to get control over my breathing. My throat started to tingle, my shortness of breath got worse, and I started wheezing.

At this point I was in full panic mode and made my way out to the living room and called my dad who was in his office downstairs. While he was coming upstairs I looked at my face in the mirror I have by my sitting area and it looked super blotchy and strange. My hands were blotchy as well and I could feel when I moved them that they were swollen. My dad arrived, I quickly explained what happened and that I wanted him to sit with me in case it got worse, and he mentioned that one side of my face looked larger than the other, likely swollen. I took a benadryl and sat as upright as I could on the couch for about a half hour while it kicked in. I finally got to the point where I couldn't fight the drowsiness from the benadryl anymore and went back to bed. I'm super wiped out today and freaked out by the whole thing. It was bad enough that if I had access to an epi pen I definitely would have used it. In hindsight I probably should have gone to the hospital but it was late and I was incredibly tired so I didn't push to go. idk what to do now though, this is my second time having an episode of "am I going to die" sickness that I think was allergy-related but I know my doctor doesn't have any appointments until January.

[pnny1-blog]

It's been a month ago when Tim was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer they found it when running tests on him to figure out why a strong vibrant man got a illness that started out with lightheadedness for a few hrs in the morning then progressed to dizziness and a headache all day first trip to the local emergency room ( band aid station) they sent him home with a severe sinus infection! His condition steadily getting worse after two days he could barely walk because his tremors were so bad. Third day I had to call an ambulance. Them ass holes did not believe he couldn't walk they said it was a panic attack they basically forced him stand up and try to walk to the gurney as it would not fit through the door of our house he fell Three times trying to he finally crawled to the gurney. Once at the hospital I no sooner parked my car and they were releasing him saying that he was having a panic attack. Sent a prescription to pharmacy. I took Tim Home helped him to bed( he crawled ) went and got his meds. He stayed in that bed for a week I couldn't get him to get up for nothing, he was barely eating, peeing in a bottle and had no bowel movement. I kept trying to get him to let me call the ambulance again and if we were not satisfied with the outcome of the band aid station once they helped me get him in car I would take him to another hospital. Finally I told him I felt like I was watching him die. It was then he agreed to let me call an ambulance again. Same ambulance crew, they would not lift him to get to the gurney so he scooted- once they tried to make him walk no gait belt or anything, Tim fell on concrete busted his elbow open! He even had to scoot through mud water and gravel to get to gurney I was on ground behind him holding his back up because at this point he could not even sit up without support for his back. It had been even difficult for him to swallow at this point even his eyes would tremor. At the emergency room the doctor finally believed there was definitely something neurological going on. Had him transferred to different hospital via helicopter. This hospital throwed every test in the world to try and find out what was happening. They figured out his immune system was fighting with his nervous system, but why they didn't know. Through all the test, they found an lymph node on his lung it tested positive for small cell lung cancer. It was contained and had not spread. They started chemo right away! As far as the other thing it turned out it was a rare virus (only affects 200 people a year). Rabitina is what the country folks call the virus, it is contracted from infected rabbits, rodents, horseflies, ticks, etc. His body essentially had forgotten how to function properly. If they had not caught it his eternal organs would have stopped functioning his bowels, and prostate had already been affected.

After 25 days in hospital he had regained all functions except being able to stand up and walk. Hospital was trying to find an acute rehab to take him but they all said he was not a good fit for their program. The only other options we had was a skilled nursing home or home with outpatient therapy. We chose home no way was I sending him to a nursing home. So here we are he's been home for a little over a week now. He's been to see the radiation doctor twice (thanks to my brother-in-law helping me transfer him as I'm not able to lift him). He starts radiation Wednesday of this week. He will be taking radiation therapy every day for the next 7 weeks except weekends. He starts physical therapy tomorrow. He is starting to help us transfer already. I've been off work through all this so this is taking a toll on our finances as well.

I can't leave him alone for very long at a time as he can't fend for himself!

I will be adding more to this as our journey continues.

I also want to ad that after 22 years that we have lived together we finally got married while he was in hospital

[books-and-catears]

Hi! If requests are open could i request the brothers with a teen MC who's stressed about school?

When they come home they immediately throw themselves to bed, they often have headaches, they become more cold and distant, they often have a hard time submitting homework on time and they're not as lively as they originally were. How would the brothers comfort them?

I'm so fucking tired rn, i know it's the last month (even tho It's more like 15 days) but my teachers are starting a new important project where we have to host an EVENT along with our exam that is coming up in a week. And we're in fucking highschool-

Aw I think I accidentally opened my asks again but I read this and I relate so much to this; I needed this as much as you. Being a student is too hard sometimes. *hugs* Sorry sweetie you must be so exhausted too?

I'll definitely write this. I apologize if it's a bit short but thank you so much for this ask. I'll try and do my best okay?

Exam season has just rolled out in Devildom and Diavolo had recently announced that the Exchange students will not have a reduced syllabus and have to study like the rest of the demons, to get a better understanding of their culture and history. This sudden increase in work hasn't been easy on you.

Lucifer

He notices something off with you when you stop telling him leave his paperwork and get some rest. These days it seems he has to pull you away from your work.

He can see how dull and lifeless your eyes look as you try to politely sit through meals with everyone.

"MC do you have some time to talk?" He asks you one day in the middle of homework. "I'm a little busy Lucifer maybe later. I still have finish three more these essays." Wow how the tables turn.

He was planning to have tea with you, but as you usually leave the tea near him when he's working, he did the same. "Don't worry MC I'll take care of this." He whispers to himself.

You're only a child, why are you being so overworked? This is ridiculous. Immediately takes it up with Diavolo and the authorities at school to make sure you're not given more than you can handle.

Mammon

What do you mean you're not up for movie night? Again? This is the fifth time you've denied him. Mammon starts getting worried about you.

At first he's afraid that maybe you're only mad at him so he asks his brothers who you are spending time with. You are nowhere to be found in any of their rooms.

He reaches your room and finds you curled up in bed, groaning in pain, holding your head. "MC what's wrong?" You manage to squeak out, "Head hurts." It looks really bad from the way you're wincing.

He goes into panic overdrive, going up to Satan and Lucifer, even ringing up Solomon for headache cures. After you get a little better, he found out that it's school stress that's doing this to you.

Godamnit Diavolo! Why would you think it's okay to send a little human to Demon school? They work differently don't they. He will volunteer to do most of your work at school- even though he forgets his own.

Leviathan

Levi was excitedly waiting for you to show up to play his new game. It was the usual routine for you to come back from school, freshen up and then join him gaming four days a week. But you haven't showed up. For the third time this week.

He keeps texting and calling you but don't reply. At first he thinks it's because he's a yucky otaku but then he notices you aren't even getting his messages. So he ventures out of his room and finds you in yours.

You were fast asleep in your uniform, your phone switched off due to low battery, your bed unmade and your bag in a slump on the floor. You look like a game character who got defeated in a fight.

When he hears it is the school stress that is doing this to you, he adamantly hatches a plan. "Levi we have school why anime now?" You ask as he drags you to his room.

"Because you need a energy recharge! So I told Lucifer you'll be staying with me all day and watch your favourite anime." Levi said, handing you a bunch of snacks.

Satan

This is the ninth day in a row you had fallen asleep in the library. Yes Satan was counting. Everytime he finds you, you're curled up in a chair with a heavy bookon your lap and your notebook and pens strewn across a nearby table. Overdue assignments.

"Oh MC again?" He mutters as he puts his jacket on you so you don't get cold. When was the last time you read a book with him? You seem so busy and distant these days. He noticed the way you kept denying all his brothers hence he didn't approach you himself. Now he understood why.

Diavolo must be barking mad in his head if he thinks an adolescent human can work the same way as age old demons. He feels annoyed at how you're being overwhelmed.

You wake up to him sitting next to you, writing down your assignments. "Satan why..." Satan smiles and palms your head, "You need to rest, you've been working too hard. I'll handle the assignments, you sleep some more, I'm taking you to a cat cafe later. Playing with cats will help you feel relaxed."

Asmodeus

Asmo notices the redness in your sunken eyes on the very next day after you pull an all-nighter. He offers you to come to his room but you decline saying you have to prepare for upcoming exams.

He finds it increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut and leave you alone when you look like this. Your skin is breaking out, your cheeks are sinking. You're starting to look like Lucifer.

Look at how school is ruining you! You are only a baby and yet you're starting look a workaholic corporate worker.

One day he's had enough with your lack of self-care and he drags you to his room. You try telling him off "Asmo I have exams-" He snaps back at you angrily, "Today is your day off whether you like it or not. I will not have you mistreating yourself like this. Now come on we're doing a home spa."

Beelzebub

Everything seems wrong. You aren't eating well. And today you look like you're about to pass out while eating dinner. He can't eat when you're like this - he doesn't want your leftovers anymore.

You try to smile at him, "I'm okay Beel. I'm just not very hungry." He isn't buying it but you leave so suddenly he couldn't say anything. You seemed to brush people off and be on your own these days.

He noticed you skip the lunchline at school to scurry off to a lonely table to finish up some work. He gets an extra plateful of food and sets it down next to you.

"Beel I said I'm not hungry." You try to say but Beel is having none of it. He snatches your stuff away. "School can wait, you need nourishments to work. I won't let you work before you eat all of this, MC."

Belphegor

This is heavily annoying to him. He sees you running out of your room, sneaking into the library to study at 3 AM in the night. Did you just wake up and decide not to sleep ever again?

When he tries to approach you about this, you act snappy and cold towards him. He doesn't mind - he understands why you're like this. He's grumpy half the time when he doesn't get to sleep either.

As if he needed more reason to resent Diavolo. Not only did he drag you down from Earth and now's he overworking you in school. Is this supposed to help somehow? Cause the only thing this has done is reduce the smiley chirpy MC to Lucifer version 2.0

One day he sees fall head first onto the floor as you try to flee your room. You stumble and shake as you try to get up again. "Okay that's it. Enough of this." Belphie appears and takes you back to your room, throwing you on the bed. "Belphie I'm fine I just need to finish-"

"You need to finish your sleep. I thought humans had better self-preservation than this. You will not get out of bed until you've caught up on your sleep" He tucks you in bed and stays there until you fall fast asleep.