#that year was eaten up by animal crossing so hard

[non-binary-laurie-strode]

It's so funny to move Pokémon from Sword to Scarlet and be like, Oh, all of these legends are at the level they're at in Dynamax Adventures. I really did not care about them huh.

[rhadamanthes]

Medecine. Satoru x reader

word count : 7k :0

warnings : mention of overdose, drug use, SLOWBURN, scent kink, doggy style, dubcon (just to be safe), oral sex (f!receiving), ANGST, fluff, public sex, cowgirl position, happy ending.

Satoru Gojo overdosed on the 31st december. This shaked the friend group like never before, it also was the worst way to start the year. He was discharged from the hospital a week after his admission, a wish from his parents, not wanting the word to spread around that their prestigious family has a junkie son. 

A few weeks have passed ever since, everybody is here for him, trying to lift him up and get his mind on something else. Of course it's hard, none of you are professionals and he hasn't got the treatment he needed. The best you can do is be here for him. Personally, you have never been really close to Satoru, in the friend group you're closer to Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji, and Sukuna. His loudness and obnoxiousness throw you off a bit, but now you feel guilty, was it the drug or his personality ?

Smoothing the part of your hair you knock on the door, you're on babysitter duty tonight, you're nervous it's the first time it's only going to be you and him usually there's other people around. Today nobody else was available. The group went partying and thought it was a really bad idea to bring him in this type of environment given the fact the last time he went, he almost died. Yuuji asked you if you could watch over him as he knows you're not a huge party animal.

The door opens and Satoru welcomes you in with a sly smirk. Taking off your shoes you follow him to the living room.

"So what's the programm tonight you're going to lullaby me to sleep?" he asks, chewing loudly on a piece of gum.

"Actually, no. Suguru told me to make myself at home so... Have you eaten yet?" you ask, taking the tupperware out of your bag.

"Hmm no, i'm not really hungry and this looks disgusting" he says pointing at your food.

You roll your eyes making your way to the kitchen Satoru on your tail. Placing the food in two plates you launch them in the microwave. You cross your arm on your chest looking at him. He just stares at you with a curious glint in his eyes; Not a word is exchanged but the silence is comfortable. The bell of the microwave snaps you back to reality and you give him a plate, going back to the living room.

Both of you sat on the floor to eat on the coffee table, the TV playing some random show. You start digging in your plate and Satoru does the same. You're waiting for his reaction, and you're not disappointed. This man is crouched over the plate, absorbing bite after bite not even lifting his neck, moaning in the process.

"It's disgusting isn't it hm?" you tease.

"Tell me you have more," he says with his mouth full. You furrow your brows at his manners shaking your head.

"No but i have dessert"

He just nods his head resuming licking the plate clean.You chuckles wondering when was the last time he ate at all. Dinner wraps around and you're both dozing off watching the show.

"I never really saw you around" he blurts

"Well i'm very discreet and you're kind of the opposite"

"Maybe you're just stuck up"

"Maybe you're just a drug addict" is what you want to say "Maybe i am" is what you go for.

You spent the rest of the night commenting on the poor acting of the show. You feel like Satoru has warmed up to you and vice versa. Later Sukuna knocks on the door to pick you up, he rushes you because his little brother is in the car intoxicated, telling you that if he throws up on the seat it'll be your fault. You don't even have the time to properly tie up your shoes that he's grabbing your arm directing you to the exit. You quickly wave to Satoru who is smiling at your interaction with Sukuna.

The reason he's picking you up is that Yuuji is your roommate, it makes sense for him to drop you both off at the same place. After a bit of effort and a lot of scolding from Sukuna, Yuuji is finally in bed and you're too. Exhausted, you can't wait to go to sleep.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

A few weeks have passed since that night, you're now the assigned babysitter when the group is out partying, you don't mind anymore, you've learned to know Satoru better and he's actually a great friend, he's funny and sarcastic. Underneath all of that you see clearly that he's broken and dealing with a lot. You told the group that he also needs some alone time as for the past few months he's been surrounded with presence 24/7. Suguru almost burned you at the stake for that but when Satoru backed you up, he calmed down. You think he's getting better and better until one night you come to his place and the smell of weed lingers in the air. The scent takes you to the balcony where he's sitting on a garden chair.

"I like your new cologne" you say through the sliding glass window.

Satoru jumps from his seat, eyes wide looking at you with guilt. You extend your hand so he can give you the blunt. He sighs, taking one last hit before passing it to you. Taking a seat next to him, you smoke on his joint. After a moment you give it back to him. He looks at you hesitantly before taking it.

"I know what you're doing, this method where you only smoke weed to keep sober from any other drug ? It's not the solution" you say harshly.

"And what do you know about withdrawal" he chuckles, taking more hits.

"My sister was a drug addict" you state plainly and the smile on his face immediately wipes off.

Satoru clears his throat in embarrassment, passing you the blunt one more time, you take it, only to throw it off the balcony. His mouth opens wide and he stares at you like you just killed his entire family. You stare back daring him to say something. In defeat he only gets up and goes back inside.

"Come, I made chicken curry" You smile, following him inside.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

It was rare for you to see Satoru during the day you were in class, and following the New year's event he decided to stop college for a while. But today is an exception. Your only class of the day has been canceled so you decided to visit him. It's 2 in the afternoon and he clearly just woke up, only wearing a boxer and a cringey wolf t-shirt. His hair goes in every possible direction and his eyes are hooded.

"Rise and shine darling!" you say shaking the takeout bag that you picked up on your way here.

"You must be god sent i'm starving" he says locking you in a bear hug you can barely breath.

When you're done eating, Satoru looks better already, you're scrolling through your phone.

"There's this place I want to try, a bakery type of stuff, everything they make looks delicious. Do you want to come with me?" you ask, turning your head his way.

"Sure, I crave anything sweet. " he says with an insistent stare and a wolfish grin. You wonder if there's a hidden meaning in his words but quickly brush it off urging him to get dressed up.

You're waiting in the hall when he finally comes out dressed and combed out of his bedroom. Since you mostly see him when he's at home on late nights you forgot how he cleans up nice. He's wearing a grey shirt and black slacks. That's a change from the wolf pyjamas for sure.

"What are you doing ?" you laugh as he searches through the cabinet

"Car keys"

"Oh no need! It's a ten minute walk!" you say grabbing his arms to get on the way.

You lost count of how many girls turned their heads to look at Satoru, your arms are locked with each other, some of them glance at you with pure jealousy in their eyes. You're about to make a comment about that, but turning around, Satoru is breathing heavily, mouth slightly open. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest, stopping in track.

"Do you want to stop for a minute?" you ask in a sweet voice.

"For a ten minutes walk ? What's next ? You're going to change my diaper ?" he breathes, not looking you in the eyes.

You feel even more guilty now. You know his overdose took a toll on his health but you wouldn't think it was that bad. He feels insecure about it for sure. Shit, you should have just shut up. Once in the pastry shop you took a table next to the window, neither of you have uttered a word since his little outburst. You clear your throat asking him what he fancies to break the ice.

"Listen, I shouldn't have talked to you like that earlier. I know you try to help me" he says, closing the menu, taking your hand in his.

"It's fine" you smile at him "Don't take this the wrong way but since the break is approaching i wanted to get back to the gym would you like to come with me?" you ask threading carefully over your words. He purses his lips and you're about to take back your words when he answers.

"Guess I could use the extra exercise," he answers, leaning back on the sofa.

You squeeze his hand excitedly and order from the waitress. When the food comes, you happily taste the treats, sharing with each other. After a moment Satoru sip his drink, lost in his thoughts, you can tell he wants to say something.

"So your sister is she-"

"Alive and well" you cut him off to avoid an awkward moment. He exhales loudly as if a weight was taken from his shoulders. Nodding his head he asks you more questions.

"How did she get clean ? She went to rehab?"

"No, she had it really bad one night and wanted to get clean"

"You can say the word you know, I'm not going to burst in tears" he says laughing to lighten the atmosphere. You hit his calf under the table.

" She didn't overdose, she just had a really bad trip, and then she found out she was pregnant, she always wanted a baby, she decided to make it right for the kid" you say, meeting his gaze. "I'm not telling you to impregnate someone to get over it" you add huffing through your nose.

"You sure you don't want this ? Me and you in the park while little Saori is running around" he says, caressing your hand with his thumb.

You shiver in disgust at the thought of a fetus growing inside of you, hitting his calf once again as he laughs at your face.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

A few days after the pastry date, Satoru hasn't answered any of your propositions to go to the gym. So today you decided to join Sukuna on his training day. You hate to go to the gym alone, scared to look ridiculous in front of everyone, he's an expert so it should be fine. The smell of sweat floods your nose. Looking around you quickly notice a mop of strawberry pink hair, to your surprise you notice white hair too. A smile spreads on your lips and you're on your way to join them but the conversation stops you in your tracks.

"I was breathing like a damn cow in front of her, over walking for a mile, this is stupid I don't want this anymore" Satoru grumbles

"Well you're in the right place but it's going to take some time, don't expect to get back in shape in a week" Sukuna answers, giving you a short glance ,you feel like a deer in the headlights.

"Go fetch a rope we'll start there" he adds, pushing him in the direction with his hand.

Satoru walks toward where the material is staked, while Sukuna approaches you, putting a finger over your mouth.

"I know we were supposed to train together today, but I think it's better if he doesn't know" you nod your head "Don't mention this to him, act like you never heard this conversation hmm?" he says taking off the finger from your lips.

"Thank you" you mutter, before discreetly leaving the room.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Tonight is board game night with the whole crew. Everybody is at Satoru's place, It's been a while since everybody has been reunited in the same place. Yuuji is currently banished from the living room, he is on the terrace for stealing too many banknotes during Monopoly. The end of the round is near and he's giving everybody puppy eyes to be admitted back in, before moving to the next game. He's sleeping at Megumi's tonight but Sukuna still agreed to come pick you up. From dobble to mime games the night has been filled with laughter and funny banters.

Almost everyone has gone home by now, you're chatting on the couch with Satoru when Sukuna sends you a text to come down. Satoru accompanies you in the hall as you put your shoes on. You're about to hug him goodbye when he presses his lips against yours. The kiss is soft, he takes his time to taste you, holding your cheeks like you're made of glass. You don't move, or deepen the kiss. You're dumbfounded. When he breaks the kiss you stare at him waiting for an explanation but he just stares at you with a smile, petting your hair.

"Satoru?" you call in a meek voice.

He shrugs his shoulders, still smiling like a fool, "You were beautiful tonight" he adds.

A warm sensation spreads in your chest at the compliment.Suguru calls him from the kitchen, before you can answer and he disappears down the corridor.

The car stops and you haven't noticed your home yet. You've been in your thoughts for the whole ride, thinking about the kiss, how his lips felt and why he did it? you take your bag from the floor, mutter an apology and reach for the handle when Sukuna grips your arms.

"What happened, you look like shit" he states, Sukuna has always been honest with you, and you know you can trust him.

"Satoru kissed me tonight" you exhale loudly.

"And ? you felt butterflies in your little tummy" he laughs. You hit his arms feeling frustrated already.

"Sukuna! Don't you think it's weird? I mean if he grabbed my ass or just started humping me-"

"You'd smacked him, i hope" you give him a mean glare at his intervention.

"What I'm saying is that a kiss is very intimate. I wasn't expecting that. What would you do if I kissed you?"

"I'm a loyal man so I'd probably have to kill you" you slump in your seat at his words, he's not being very helpful.

"Do you know how many drugs were found in his system that night ?" he talks in a more serious tone.

Your heart clenches in your chest and you shake your head sheepishly.

"A lot, too many, he should have died. He's like this, he takes, takes and takes and then there is the aftermath, don't think too much about it, he probably just wanted to know what it felt like." he says.

You nod your head feeling the tear prickle in your eyes. You have trouble falling asleep that night, thinking about everything that happened and what's about to come.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Sukuna must have been right, after the kiss incident none of you brought it up and things went back to normal. It's Sunday, you're in your bed watching a chick flick. when the front door buzzes. You play dead ,not wanting to move from your cozy bed. After a moment you hear banging on the door and decide to see who the hell is disturbing your peace on this holy day. No surprises it's Satoru, his million dollar smile almost makes you forget that he made you get out of bed.

"Took you long enough" he says, entering the appartement.

He lets one of his hands go to your hair as he scratches your scalp with his long fingers. You close your eyes at the contact, relaxing in his hand. You felt sleepy before he interrupted you, but now it's even worse. You lead him to your bedroom. Getting back under the covers, he does the same getting rid of his jogger and hoodie, leaving just his shirt on.

"Your bed is cozy" he says nuzzling into the sheets.

"What brings you here ?" you say, yawning, eyes fixated on the screen.

"Come ooon can't friends visit on Sundays ?"

"Not when they're trying to knock my door down" you laugh, meeting his gaze "You know I'm probably going to fall asleep, this is not going to be interesting."

"I love to watch you sleep" he teases, fixing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Creep" you mutter.

As predicted you fall asleep a few minutes after. You looked tired for the past few days, so Satoru is not surprised. He's looking at you, the steady rise and fall of your chest, you look so peaceful, getting closer to you he plants a kiss on your forehead, the scent of your hair strikes him, you smell like lavender cotton and vanilla,so sweet. He's obsessed. Hiding his nose in your hair he takes another sniff. He smells you over and over again still not satisfied, he lowers his head into your neck smelling the scent of your skin mixed with your body lotion. He moans a bit, fuck he could eat you whole right now.

He wants to go lower again, smelling between your breast, pressing his nose against your crotch. But he can't do that to you while you're sleeping, you're the best thing in his life right now. You make him feel whole, you make him feel like he can overcome anything as long as you're by his side. He just can't, fighting his pulsions, he settles for your hair, breathing your scent again and again.

When you wake up Satoru is crushing you under his weight, you do your best to push him away, as he groans in his sleep. Damn he's heavy. squeezing you in his arms, he hides his face in your neck lapping at your skin. You shiver calling him out.

"Satoru stop!" you say in a firm voice, sitting up straight.

"Hmmm, let me make you feel good please" he moans looking at you through heavy eyes.

You admit that seeing him like that makes you feel dizzy, and you're always horny when you wake up from a nap but you can't have sex with him, he's your friend, and he's going through a lot right now he will probably regret it, or get too attached.

"No we can't if you came here for this I'm sorry but you have to go" you say fleeing his gaze.

"No, no, no!" he says, catching your face in his hands "I came here for you, it's the first time i feel really excited in a while, I want to share this with you" he adds kissing your nose softly.

"Satoru, I'm happy you're gaining sensations again but it's a very bad idea" you say looking him in the eyes.

"Why bad ? Am i scaring you?" he asks, in an overly sweet tone searching for your look.

"You're talking in the heat of the moment, you'll regret it"

"No I won't, I don't regret kissing you, I don't regret any moment spent with you."

You believe him, and you want to let go hand taste him, but he only starts to see clearly now it would feel like you take advantage of him. Satoru lays your body down gently, kissing your cheeks, throat and collarbone. His plump lips feel heavenly against your skin. You surrender, letting your hand go to his hair, as you shimmy out of your panty. He groans between each kiss until he reaches your crotch. His piercing gaze meets yours and you nod, giving him access to your pussy. He takes the time to breath in your scent first, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly.

Heat creeps to your cheeks at the way he acts, soon enough his tongue licks at your bud. It feels rough against your skin, you squeeze your thigh against his head. After a few more licks he starts to fully devour your cunt, mouth sucking your clit in while his tongue laps at it repeatedly. Satoru moans louder than you do, he really wasn't lying about feeling horny again. His grunts turn you on even more, you start to grind against his face. You're close, after a few seconds you cum all over his face.

Satoru is out of breath,but smiles through it all. He almost looks high right now. You chase this idea out of your head. You trust him. kissing you through your daze, he places you ass up, face down.

"Like this, baby, hm? So you can keep on watching your little movie" he says, directing your head toward the screen. You nod eager to feel him inside after all his teasing and begging.

Without warning he enters his full length inside of you, air is knocked out of your lungs as he immediately starts to pound you. You close your eyes relishing in the feeling of his big cock inside of you. You're happy you gave in, this is exactly what you needed. You throw back your ass on him gripping the sheet to steady yourself. His moans are still loud and obnoxious drowning yours, but you don't mind, you like your men being vocal.

Gripping your hips hard, Satoru goes full force inside of you until he releases his seed inside of you. His back hit the mattress behind you, panting through his climax. He really came fast you think, is it the overfull emotions? the newfound libido? You're embarrassed and won't bring it up for sure. You wanted to cum on his cock too. You lay down next to him caressing his hair.

"I'm going to make you cum again baby don't worry hmm, this is all thanks to you. I wouldn't want to be sober if it wasn't for you" he coos placing kisses down your body to eat you out again.

His words make you freeze, this isn't good, at all. You know what you have to do, and you dread it.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Your belly is tied in knots and your throat is tight. You knock on the door. Waiting anxiously. Satoru let you in a few seconds later. Smiling ear to ear he leans in to kiss you but you turn your head, his lips landing on your cheeks. You already feel bad, clenching the handles of your bag.

"We need to talk" you clear your throat looking at the floor.

"Sure, Is everything alright ?" he asks, rubbing your back, urging you to come forward but you prefer to stay next to the door. When you're done telling him what you need to, he'll probably not want you in his space anymore.

"I can't keep doing this. You and me, it can't happen anymore" you say looking him in the eye for the first time that night.

"What do you mean ?" his brow furrows.

"The thing you said the other day, about being clean because of me"

"Don't worry about that, it's all good" he says trying to put his hand on your hair but you take a step back.

"No, it's not, I may not always be in your life, what happens then ? What will happen to you ? You have to want this for yourself, not for someone else..." the tear well up in your eyes and you want to throw up.

The way he's looking at you makes you want to disappear, you feel like a stranger in his home.

"If you're not planning to stay then go away"

"It's not what i mean-"

"Go away, you're searching for the most ridiculous excuses to leave me, so just go away right now." he says in a harsh tone, your heart clenches.

"Satoru I'm doing this for yo-" before you can finish your sentence the door of the living room slams shut behind him.

The silence is heavy, through all the times you went to his apartment you never felt that uncomfortable. Holding back your tears, you get out without another word. Clicking the door shut you realise that this was probably the last time you saw him. The tears fall freely on your cheeks, you sob, shoulders shaking. You sit on the stairs that lead to the next floor, not trusting your strength at the moment.

From your spot you can hear object clattering in satoru's appartement, you feel like a terrible person, you want to go inside and apologize, tell him you didn't mean it, that you don't want to be away from him, you do, but you can't and it's killing you. If you call Suguru he'll probably make you cry even harder. Picking up your phone you dial a number that you know by heart.

"Yeah"

"Sukuna please" you cry in the receiver.

"What happened? Where are you ? " he asks in a worried tone.

"I'm at Satoru's please come i'm scared he'll do something please" you beg pathetically

"To you? What the fuck happened?"

"No! to himself, I don't know just please come."

"I'll be there" he hangs up

You rest your head on your knees, crying silently. After a moment you feel a hand on your head. You know it's Sukuna, but you're too ashamed to even look him in the eyes. He sits next to you and caresses your back until you calm down.

"I called you a cab, whenever you're ready you can go." he says in a calm voice.

Your sobs have died down a bit, his presence reassures you.

"We had a fight"

"You don't have to tell me." the tears flood your eyes once more, you're so lucky to have him. You hug him close.

"Thank you," you mutter.

After accompanying you down, Sukuna went back inside. Needless to say, you didn't get much sleep that night, or the ones after.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Summer is around the corner, days are getting longer, warmer, but somehow it makes you feel like crap. Everyone around you are planning trips with their friends, and you just feel empty. The group knows about what happened between you and Satoru, not the details, just that you're not on speaking terms anymore. It was hard at first, everybody wanted to know why, but eventually, seeing the states you both were in, they dropped it. you're closer than ever with the brothers, Nobara and Megumi, since you live with Yuuji they would drop by any chance they get.

As for the rest, Suguru doesn't hide his hatred for you anymore, he either completely ignores your presence or bad mouths you straight in your face. Shoko, and Utahime try to tone him down but he's way too protective over his friend.

You haven't seen him since, you asked around for updates but they always stayed vague telling you not to worry. You miss Satoru, you miss him dearly. How can a person you befriend at the beginning of the year make her absence so hard to bear? Maybe it was more than friendship. You think about it often, if you had never said anything would you two be in a happy relationship? It doesn't matter, what's done is done, you just have to learn how to live with it.

You're currently on a walk downtown, to clear your head, and not stay cloistered in your room. Without noticing you pass in front of the pastry shop you used to go to with Satoru often. You stop in your tracks looking at the facade. You kind of want something sweet right now, is it a good idea ? You hate to attach places with people but... you only went there with him, it was sort of a ritual ever since the first time you tried it.

The door opens, revealing a silhouette that you know too well. His eyes meet yours and you feel your heart sink to your stomach. This cannot be real. It's like the word stopped the instant his blue eyes crossed yours. Satoru is standing ten feet away from you. It's the closest you've been in a month. Taking a good look at him, a weight gets off your shoulders, he looks good, as usual, but healthy. No dark circles, clean looking clothes and he gained muscles, his arms look bigger.

You're happy to see him like that, relieved. He's holding a craft bag with the shop logo on it. You can't help but smile, he really does have a sweet tooth. Satoru takes a step forward but you immediately start walking again, not trusting yourself to have a conversation with him without bursting into tears or begging for his pardon.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

"I'll Have a piece of red velvet with a white chocolate chip cookie, a salted caramel and a piece of brownie too please." The waitress takes Satoru's order neatly packing it in a box.

That's his guilty pleasure, even after a good workout session he always needs to have something sweet. After paying, Satoru gets out of the shop, Freezing at the sight of you. Fuck it's been months, it feels like year, and at the same time, it felt like yesterday he was sitting at home with you,cracking the most stupid jokes ever heard.

You cut your hair, you have new piercings too. You're beautiful, even more than the day you left him. He wants to talk to you, stepping forward he's about to greet you, but the second he gets closer, you run away like a scaredy cat. He chuckles to himself at least you are still the same at heart. Looking at you disappear through the streets, He thinks about everything that has happened since that night.

When Sukuna entered his appartement, he pounced on him, ready to throw him out. Unfortunately, at the time Sukuna clearly overpowered him, and with his emotions in shambles he was an easy take down. The following days after your announcement were some of the hardest in his life. He wanted to do everything, anything to get your attention, to have you close to him again.

His darkest thoughts wanted to make you pay for abandoning him, do something irreversible to make you feel guilty. So you'd learn your lessons and never leave him again. When the news traveled to the group, Suguru came by his place telling him he should have never trusted you, he vehemently insulted you but Satoru put him in his place. Despite his anger for you, he still had affection for you and wouldn't tolerate disrespect on your behalf.

Sukuna had the role of his jailor, literally. Every other day he would drag Satoru to the gym by his neck, no matter how much he slept, if he showered or not, through the insults and more. Eventually Satoru stopped complaining and integrated it in his routine.

This being the first step, Sukuna then registered him in an addict meeting, feeling it would be easier for him to talk it out with people that know what he's going through. Just like for the gym, at first he kicked and cried but eventually, he accepted his fate. He truly wanted to get better. A part of him wanted it for you, when his life was gonna get together you could come back ! But Satoru realised that this is the exact reason he lost you, so he started acting for himself. Filling his free time with new activities instead of just rotting in bed.

Weeks after weeks, he finally started to see the end of the tunnel. Summer's approaching and the days getting longer helped him too. He dreads it a bit too. Soon all of his friends would be on summer break, celebrating and drinking their college year away. Temptation will be everywhere, in the shape of a beautiful girl, a red plastic cup, or a rolled up bill.

No matter what he did, you never left his mind, he tried to convince Sukuna a few times to let him see you, but he was always categoric in his answer : none of you were ready. So when he met you outside the pastry shop, his heart almost exploded. He wanted to run to you, cover you in kisses from head to toe, show you everything he accomplished, and finally finally hear you say you're proud of him.

Satoru was happy he saw you, alive and well he wonders if you ever brought someone else to this place, he never did, it was too personal, kind of ridiculous when you think about it, but his memories with you were precious. He came home with a smile on his face that day.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Today is the end of your college year ! The results were published and everybody is passing ! A relief, the summer can finally begin. Tonight, everybody is meeting at yours for a little before party to go to the bar later. The atmosphere is so festive and you're happy to unwind. But you can't help but ask where Satoru is, you were the designated person to keep him company during parties and whatnot. He's he home alone ? Your heart clenches.

"He was at the gym when I called him" You hear a voice behind you.

Turning around, Sukuna is looking at you with a smirk.

"Huh what, who are you talking about" you clear your throat, embarrassed to be this obvious.

"He's coming later, talk to him in private" he nudges your shoulder

"No it's a bad idea, I'll leave before he gets here, thanks for the heads up."

"It's been months, stop torturing yourself, you did the right thing. Just talk to him and make your choice then."

You'd be lying if you said that you don't want to talk to him. Ever since you saw him, you debated calling, or sending a text about a hundred times. You never did, never had the courage. Maybe tonight you really should talk to him ? After all it's the end of a cycle it can be a new start. A deep sigh escapes your lips, you need some air. You quickly put your shoes on and leave the appartement.

There is a park nearby, it's closed at this time of the day, but it never stopped you from going anyways. Climbing the fence you take a seat on your favorite bench, it's near a pond, the sound of water is relaxing. You get lost in your thoughts when the bench cracks under the weight of another person. turning your head, you fall face to face with Satoru. Your heart jumps in your chest and your reflex is to stand up.

"No! please, don't run away this time"

You missed his voice, it's enough to make you tear up, sitting back down you look right in front of you. He calls your name softly, sitting close to you.

"How have you been?" he asks, resting his arms on the top of the bench.

You chuckle shouldn't you be the one asking this ?

"Good" you look at him, god he's handsome, he's close and fresh out of the shower by the way he smells like cologne. "How about you? How's... Life" you ask awkwardly.

"Good," he repeats with a smile. You can't help but smile too. You missed him so much. Holding back tears, you hug him close to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I should have been there for you Satoru. I'm so sorry". you sniffle.

"No baby it's not your fault" he rubs your back, talking to you in a soothing tone. "The things I said that night were out of anger. You did what's good for me, you're good. Sukuna helped me out a lot. It's because of you. I'm getting better, I should thank you" he kisses your hair.

Gosh how he missed your scent, still rubbing your back, he takes a deep sniff of your perfume.You can't help but laugh, shoulders shaking, he does too. You break the hug to really look at him.

"You look good" praising his physics, you rub his arms, squeezing at his biceps

"Look at this," he says, flexing his muscles.

The black t-shirt he's wearing stretches around the bicep. And you feel your pussy quiver. Feeling shameful, you slap his arms playfully, for him to stop. You both giggle.

"You look good too, I like the double helix" he says, pointing at your ear. You tuck your hair behind your ear to give him a better look.

"I heard about your classes too, congratulations" he kisses your cheek. You mutter a small thanks, feeling the heat consuming your body.

You didn't know you were that needy until he was so close, giving you his attention. The both of you catch up, losing track of time. Satoru places your legs on top of his, tracing circles over your knee with his thumb. It's hard for you to concentrate, his hands are big and warm, his thighs feel so strong under yours. Your thoughts are interrupted when you see a flashlight in the distance. Shit the guardian. You exchange a panicked look with Satoru, pinning your body down to the bench, he puts a finger on your lips.

Your heart is beating loud in your ears, he's so close, his perfume is flooding your nose, the heat from his body is seeping into yours. Shit you're getting horny again. when the footsteps go away, you waste no time kissing him. you both moan at the contact. The kiss is messy and needy, you're both throwing all of your pent up frustration and desire in it. Tongues twirling with each other as he fondles your breasts in his large hand. At this rate your panty is going to be drenched. Satoru breaks the kiss, looking at you with heavy eyes.

"Do you want this?" he asks out of breath.

"Yes Satoru, please, I'm ready"

"You are baby ?" you nod furiously, getting hungrier by the second.

Sitting back on the bench, he helps you up on his lap, you feel a bulge under your ass and grind against it. He Hisses, squeezing your ass.

"After this, what will happen ?" you can't help but ask not wanting to repeat previous mistakes.

"Whatever you desire, if you want to keep this going it will, if you want a break, or to never see me again, so be it" he says, blue eyes piercing yours.

"I don't want to be separated again."

"Then we won't" he smiles widely, biting at the skin of your neck.

You moan gridning harder on his cock, you take off your sweater pulling his face in your breasts. He wants to do the same with his shirt, but you stop him.

"Keep it on, I like it"

"Dirty girl" he smiles, sucking one of your tits in his mouth.

Each of your knees are on the sides of his body, you stand on them to take the remaining piece of clothes from the object of your desire, Satoru undresses himself too, groaning eagerly. You spit in your hand to jerk his cock and his head falls backward.

"Fuuuck baby" he moans, you forget how loud he was.

You keep going a few times until you can't take it anymore and impale yourself on his cock. You feel every vein, every inch of his skin, you're full to the brim.

"Satoru you're so big" is all you can mutter as you move your hips slowly to get used to his size.

He kisses your forehead multiple times, taking your ass in each of his hands. He starts to bounce you up and down on his cock at a slow pace. You lock your arms behind his neck appreciating the come and go in your dripping hole. Your mouth is slightly agape, he starts to go faster and you moan out loud in the empty park. Satoru's big cock fills you up perfectly, his tip is pushing your gummy walls out and you feel stretched perfectly as he keep fucking into you. The way he's just lifting you so easily without breaking a sweat drives you mad, it's like you weigh nothing for him.

"Look at me," he begs. You oblige, his cheeks are red with pleasure. Mouth open just like yours, you dive in for a kiss, drowning his delicious moans.

Wanting to relieve him a bit, you place your feet flat on the bench, fucking yourself on him. You throw your ass back with all your might, you want both of you to feel it in the morning. His thrust meets yours as he piston up in your cunt. Your excitation is leaking down your thigh and on his balls, the sounds of your two body mixing feels so sinful, echoing in the empty park. A familiar sensation spreads in your lower belly.

"S-satoru, I'm close baby."

"Shit, wait for me doll."

You hold your orgasm as best as you can, clenching around his dick, begging him to finish.He warns you when he's about to burst and you cum in unisson, forehead against forehead, breathing heavily in each other's mouth. His cum mixes with your excitation, running down your bodies. Pulling out of you, Satoru jerks his cock furiously.

"What are you doing? " you ask, hazy from your high.

"Making up for last time, I was lame." you stop his wrist, looking him in the eye.

"It doesn't need to be now we have all night."

"Night?" he cocks his head to the side.

"All summer" you chuckle pecking his lips.

"Sounds good' he replies, kissing you again.

Sharing sweet kisses you realise that this could work out, you feel tingles in your belly thinking about spending the summer with him, and the same complicity you had before you fell apart.

[littlesubcutie]

Imagine this,

Your daddy comes home it’s been a long day, he’s had a rough one and is angry he decides to take the edge off by getting high and having a few drinks with you. As you take hit after hit of weed you can slowly feel yourself getting stupider and worrying what’s got daddy all worked up. He’s silent and just keeps feeling you he’s “fine”. The more high and drunk you get you start to tell him exactly what you want begging him to just take all that anger out on you, you promise him you can’t take it he can be as rough as he likes.

He looks at you in a way you’ve never seen before his eyes filled with rage grabs you by the throat and pushes you into the wall with such force you’ve got tears starting to swell up in your picture perfect eyes. He questions you “are you sure you’re up for this princess, are you sure you can take this”. You whimper and managed to get out softly while his hand is still choking you against the wall “y-y-y-yes daddy” as the tears start to drip down your face.

That was all he needed to take out this fucking stressful day on his put and without wasting a moment he rips a hole in the front of your tights and starts rubbing your clit hard and fast which only leads to him slamming finger after finger in your tight little pussy without warning you whimper at the pain of each finger he adds as tears flow down your precious face. Barely able to breathe now and losing consciousness you tell him “yes hurt me daddy I’m yours to do as you please”. He grabs your throat just a little tighter and starts sliding you up the wall until he can get your legs over his shoulders and the moment he does, he lets go of your throat allowing you to breather again and just as you take that first breath in it’s followed instantly by moaning as you can feel his tongue and mouth sucking on your clit through the hole in ripped in your tights earlier.

This was such a rush you’ve never had someone care so little and yet so much to give you exactly what that sick slutty brain of yours has craved for fucking years, you’ve finally got a daddy that will cross the line of pleasure and pain and do the things you’ve fantasised about for years. It doesn’t take long for all that pressure that been building up inside of your pathetic slutty body to finally want to be realised. These thoughts of him possibly being the only one that could ever make you feel this way combined with the pain and pleasure he is given to you has you ready to cum already.

He keeps eating your pussy like he hasn’t eaten it in weeks acting like an animal that’s barely been feed occasionally stopping to put bite marks in your thighs just to watch you fucking quiver from the pain each time you look down he smiles every time you shake and whimper from it hurting which in turn makes you happy because your finally being a good slave for daddy and giving him what he wants.

You ask him if you can cum and he promptly replies “no, wait until I say you do as told whore”. You get lost at the thought of him saying this to you but try to keep a clear mind and focusing on cumming when daddy says he stops eating you out and bites down on your inner thigh harder than he has ever before you almost jump off of him screaming from the pain and as you look down you can see he has made you bleed from the bite.

He licks the blood up and starts eating you out again while tears of pain and pleasure stream down your face, he’s getting faster and and faster and stops for a second and says “you can cum now my pathetic needy little slut”. You take no time in screaming out in pleasure as you doesn’t stop eating you eat while you shake violently on his shoulders against the wall as you’ve never felt this type of pleasure before and you’ve never cummed as hard as this but he want stop he keeps eating you out even as you beg him to stop he keeps going and going until all the pressure finally releases even harder than it ever has before and your pathetic little pussy squirts all over your daddy’s face.

You get embarrassed, slightly blushing and worried about what he’s gonna think of you. You’ve never done this before, you didn’t even know you could do this until now and it’s all because of him, all you do know is you just don’t want it to end not now, not ever.

He licks all the squirt up mixing it in with the blood until his had his fill and then grabs you off his shoulders and forces your ruined face already covered in tears into the floor “clean up your fucking mess now” he says as he pushes your face into your squirting mess on the ground. You start to lick it up and ass you do you can feel him rip the hole in your tights just that bit larger and before you can realise what his happening you can feel his big thick juicy cock right in your pussy where it belongs. You moan from the pleasure and as you lift your head up to moan you are met with him smashing it back into the floor. “Did I say to stop cleaning your fucking mess you stupid slut you do as I say, do you understand.”

You start licking again and cleaning the floor while he pounds you from behind using his bodyweight to keep you pinned to the ground. It feels so good and you can feel his cock so deep inside you rubbing in places you never thought possible for a man to actually hit. As you clean the last few drops. You moan to him “please breed me daddy, I know I’m a stupid little slut but please breed me and make me yours”. You felt his cock grow in size and width from those words you knew he was close now as he pushes your head into the ground he grabs your long perfect hair and rips your head up just to make sure he hears you moan. He demands “ come again and I’ll breed you I’ll make you mine for life”. Hearing this words and it’s already to late you have no time to warn him you’ve already started to cum “I-i-i-I’m cum-cum-cuming daddy” you scream out as fucks you like no one has ever done before him.

He can feel your pussy tightening around his cock and and cumming all over it and he doesn’t stop slamming into you while he cums and breeds you like the pathetic needy little slut you are. You feel his hot warm cum feel your needy pussy up there’s so much of it, it’s dripping out of your pussy while he keeps fucking more and more of it into you. He pulls his cock out and leaves you dripping in crying in the fetal position as he leaves the room.

Moments later he returns “ are you ok princess, you did such a good job letting daddy take his anger out”. You whimper while crying “yes I’m ok, do you feel better daddy”. He replies “yes darling it’s all thanks to you, let me take care of you”. You can feel him cleaning your bleeding bite mark up with some antiseptic and he picks you up and carries you to the shower. He starts washing your hair and cleaning your body off while you cry on his shoulder still in awe of the pleasure you’ve just had.

As he showers you and looks after you you can see him looking at the damage his down and you see a single tear start to form in his eyes “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to hurt you this much I just had a really bad day”. You respond “I’m glad I could make it better” as you share a tearful embrace with each other in the shower you look at one another and kiss passionately and the last words to leave both of your lips at the same time is “I love you”.

You know who xx

This.... ladies and gentlemen... is how you capture my attention 🤌

[green-like-the-sky]

hello! i hate to seem impatient, but did you receive my ask about your time travel au tomtom headcanons? i'm worried that tumblr might've eaten it. thanks! ^^

BESTIE I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY tumblr didn't eat it i just forgor

ok, tomtom time travel headcanons! this is long and rambling sorry

full disclosure i started tinkering with a time travel au for them right after i read The Mirror and the Light, so back in 2020(!). Since I got back into Wolf Hall recently, I decided to pick it up again. I don't want to give away all the plot points so some spoilers are under the cut!

they come through to modern London just before More's trial (opening scene of the fic posted here!). The Tower is a crossing point in my mind, so much has taken place there and so many lives have been lost that the temporal walls are thin. Other people from their time have crossed through too. Perhaps they meet up with them in the future... (they 100% do)

Cromwell is convinced modern London is not real, he's just hallucinating or having a fever relapse and it takes him a few days to come to terms with the fact that yes, they're really 500 years in the future. The things that have stayed the same (more or less) convince him. The Thames. The trees on Putney Heath. More being insufferable now as he was then.

More actually accepts the time travel pretty quickly but he pretends not to because he knows that will annoy Cromwell.

they are told by their host (spoilers!) not to google themselves, because they can't know their historical fates in case they ever get transported back to 1500s (nobody knows how the time travel works, or if it will happen again)

(the internet, generally, is astounding and More immediately wants to know what became of Erasmus and who the Pope is now)

Later they both confess to googling themselves anyway. Not to know what their own fates were, but what became of Gregory and Meg. Bonding moment!

After they have acclimatised for a couple of days they are let out to explore London on their own. They get lost on the tube. They go to a coffee shop and don't know how to order so end up just ordering what the people in line ahead of them got (iced mocha with whipped cream nearly kills More)

Cromwell wonders what he could have achieved in Henry's court, with internet access.

Cromwell also wonders what he could have achieved in Henry's court, caffeinated.

They contemplate starting a podcast (thankfully they are talked out of this)

Eventually Cromwell realises the insufferableness of More is not actually insufferable. Sudden overwhelming realisation that perhaps the reason he tried so hard to make him take the oath was that back then he was in love with him. More: didn't you know?

They hook up.

The fic ends with them having been in the future for four years and counting. They're both perfectly happy. More is a university lecturer (his knowledge of european reformation literature is astounding, his colleagues think!). Cromwell has been dabbling in law again. They've got a nice place with a little garden, plenty of room for More's animals (Cromwell makes fun but he does have a black cat of his own)...

ANNE is the only other person from their time period who also came through the doorway in the Tower. It happened just before her own execution so she is slightly ahead of them, in Tudor-timeline. She also has been in the future for 20 years, she's thoroughly established, she fits neatly in to modern London, she has a great job, she's divorced with a grown up daughter.

(her grown up daughter is the person who finds the Toms in the Tower, believes who they say they are and takes them back to Anne's flat the first night).

Anne slaps Cromwell when she first meets them in modern times. She ignores More.

Anne is annoyed they are there, but knows how they're feeling and what they need to do to survive in the 2020s. It's also nice to see familiar faces, even if it is them

They end up all going to a karaoke bar and get drunk, and, well, 500 years is a long time to hold a grudge.

The Toms' girldad instincts kick in around Anne's daughter. She's in the first year of her undergrad and More can't resist helping with essays. Cromwell bonds with her over the weirdness of them both being separated from family by half a millenium (she's desperate to know about her 'big' sister, Elizabeth I!)

I have rambled on a lot here sorry but that's a general overview! if you want to know anything else please do ask!!

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Wild (1/4)

Title: Wild (1/4)

Pairing: Lycanthrope!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Wolves, angst, animal attack, crying and panic attack, mentions of HYDRA captivity, some fluff

Summary: Over the years, Y/N has found that in times of great need, a wolf appears to aid her. She relies on its presence until one day, her wolf is in need of her help instead.

A/N: This is the first part of a four-part mini-series! I’m very excited and I hope you all enjoy. There is one Russian word in this part, a nickname that is translated as “chickadee”. Fic dividers are by @firefly-graphics​

Miniseries Masterlist

The first time you ever see the strange spirit, it appears at the edge of your vision, blurry and almost shapeless until you turn to face it. The wolf stands proudly, its black fur a stark contrast against the snow, and its lip turns up in a snarl you can’t hear over the wind.

You shiver as you lock eyes with it, unsure of your fate. The thought crosses your mind that the creature could easily take you down. You won’t stand a chance; you haven’t eaten in days and you’re weak from walking mile after mile. Escaping your captors is no easy feat.

Frozen in place, you hold your breath as the wolf approaches, its footsteps silent and even over the snow-covered brush. It brushes against your leg and a rush of warmth goes through your body, causing another shiver. The wolf whines when your teeth chatter and you flinch away, surprised. When it presses closer against you, the snarl long gone from its muzzle, you freeze again. A wet nose nudges your palm and you swallow thickly as you lift your hand to pet the coarse fur on top of its head. The wolf remains still and silent, and you carefully grab a fistful of fur after a few more hesitant strokes.

As if it knows what you needed, the beast begins to walk forward, heading back the direction you’d come for almost an hour before veering off the path you’d created. You hold onto its fur, allowing it to lead you and carry some of your weight. The wolf’s steps never falter, even when you lean heavily against it. After another hour or two of walking, just as your legs are on the verge of giving out, it stops at the edge of the forest. A tiny circle of cabins stands in the distance. Smoke rises from each cabin’s chimney and tears of relief pool in your eyes. When you look down to pet the wolf again in thanks, it’s gone.

You don’t see the animal spirit again for years. It appears again while you’re walking home from work, tears clouding your vision as you let the crowd push you along the sidewalk. Everything feels numb. You’ve been fired, and over something that wasn’t even remotely your fault, to boot. You need this job. The income isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep you afloat while you try to get your bearings in this new city.

As if escaping to New York wasn’t hard enough on its own, you whine to yourself.

Sniffling, you step out of the way, ducking into a narrow alley so you can try and compose yourself for the rest of your walk home. People won’t say anything if they see you crying, but it doesn't matter. Your pride is at stake. Your ego had taken a big enough beating during the confrontation with your boss.

Something soft brushes up against your hand and you jerk away, looking down to see a large wolf standing beside you. It doesn’t meet your eyes, and you stare at it curiously. You remember it being larger and black. Now, its thick fur is only mostly black. Streaks of white are spread across its body, blending in with the dark to create patches of salt-and-pepper. One of its front legs is entirely white now.

You sniffle again, staring down at the wolf in utter confusion. Where did it come from? Glancing around the alley, you look for some sign of a den or a pack, but there is nothing. No one passing by seems concerned, either. It’s as if the wolf is invisible to their eyes.

“Hello,” you murmur. Hesitantly, you stretch out your fingers to brush against the wolf’s fur. It shudders under your touch and you quickly jerk your hand away, but stop when the wolf whines and looks up at you with sad eyes.

“Are you hurt?” you ask. You sink down into a crouch, sniffling and wiping tears and snot into the back of your hand. You should probably be more careful in case the wolf is wild, but it doesn’t seem intent on harming you in any way. “You don’t look hurt. You must be old, if your fur is turning gray. Are you an old boy? Huh?”

You keep your voice gentle and soothing and despite the fact that it shakes, the wolf seems to relax as you speak. Slowly, continuing the nonsense spilling from your lips, you lift your hand to pet the wolf’s ruff. This time, it leans into your touch. Its eyes even close as you pet and scratch, giving it as much affection as you could muster.

While you knew in your heart this is the same wolf as the one that had led you to safety after escaping HYDRA, it didn’t make sense that it’s in the city. You’re thousands of miles from where you’d hid in that cabin all those years ago. An ocean stands in the way and you know that logically, it isn’t possible. This wolf seems so different, too. It’s gentler, though it seems more confused and desperate. It’s less sure of itself. Upon closer inspection, you can see that not only is its fur different, but it's bulkier. The wolf that had led you to safety was built with lean muscle, while this one is sturdier.

“What are you doing here, huh? You looking out for me?”

The wolf opens its eyes, staring at you intently. You hold its gaze and your ministrations over its neck stop.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Are you trying to tell me something?”

As if in a dream, the wolf nods its head. You swallow hard.

“Holy– Can you understand me?” It nods again and you lean back, pressing your back up against the stained bricks of the alley. “This can’t be real. Wolves can’t understand humans and there’s no way you’re even the same wolf as before. Besides, wolves are pack animals. You don’t even have a pack here.”

The wolf huffs and steps away from you, then looks down the alley. You know nothing’s there except dumpsters, pallets, and boxes, but when you finally follow the wolf’s gaze, your heart drops into your stomach.

A lion stands proudly in the space between the buildings, staring at you and the wolf. His hide is golden and faultless, and his mane is lush and full.

Your head spins and you fall from the crouch to sit on the ground. Unable to look away, you stare at the lion, unblinking and mouth gaping wide. He approaches slowly and takes his place beside the wolf. They’re similar in stature, though their appearance is night and day.

“This can’t really be happening,” you whisper as the lion leans closer. He sniffs at your face, then down your arm until he can nudge your hand with his nose. You swallow thickly and lift your hand to pet him. Your hand shakes as you stroke his coarse hair.

You sit on the ground in the alley, alternating between petting the wolf and the lion for what seems like an eternity. No one passing by appears to pay you any mind and no one interrupts. Finally, the beasts step away from you and look at each other. You watch in wary silence as they stare, then turn and head back the way they’d come.

By the time you get to your feet and race to the end of the alley, they’ve disappeared into thin air. You stand in place for several minutes before a shiver runs up your spine, shaking you back into reality. You blink, then gather your wits and step back into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk to head home.

“I’ll be home soon,” you say, shifting the phone so it’s better wedged between your shoulder and your ear. “I promise. Yes, I got everything on the list. Okay, love you. Yep, bye.”

You let Natasha end the call as you wiggle your key fob into a better position and press your thumb against the unlock button. The headlights on your car blink once, then twice, as the locks disengage. Sighing heavily, you dump the tangle of plastic grocery bags into the trunk and slam it shut hard enough that the car rocks.

You’re opening the driver’s side door when a pained yelp echoes through the grocery store lot and against your better judgment, you pause and look around. On the far side of the pavement, nearer to the tree line than to the store, a group of coyotes has ganged up on something large and white and furry.

And oddly familiar, your brain provides as you get closer, your feet pounding against the asphalt as you make a beeline for the dogfight.

“Hey! Hey, leave him alone!” you shout.

The coyotes pay you no heed and on a spur-of-the-moment thought, you grab a loose shopping cart and charge. As soon as you’re within five feet the coyotes book it away from the wounded wolf. You shove the cart off to the side, sending it careening into an oak tree, and stop in your tracks.

The wolf stares up at you, its fully white fur bloody and blue eyes dull with pain. You pant as you stare back, unable to look away.

“It’s you,” you say, crouching down and then shifting to kneel on one knee as you continue to catch your breath. “It’s really you.”

It whimpers and lays its head down on the weeds, though it still tries to keep its eyes on you.

“They got you really good, huh?” You stretch out a hand, inching closer, and the wolf growls low in its chest. Immediately, you jerk your hands away and hold them where it can see. “Whoa! Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you! I’m here to help!”

After a moment more, the wolf lays its head back down and stares at nothing. Blood continues to seep from the wound, soaking into the thick fur around it. You look around before finally getting to your feet and grabbing the shopping car you had discarded.

It’s tough and uncomfortable for the wolf, but you finally manage to heave the animal onto the bottom shelf of the cart and push it over to your car. The wolf is heavier than you thought and you’re huffing and puffing by the time you make it around to the back door.

Quickly, you spread your spare blanket over the backseat and haul the wolf inside. You shut the door behind it and get into the driver’s seat, glancing back at the wolf through the rear view mirror.

“You still with me, buddy?” you ask.

The wolf whimpers and you watch its chest rise and fall unsteadily a few times before kicking yourself into gear. You throw the car into drive and practically race home. If the cops in your town actually cared to give speeding tickets, you would’ve gotten several just in the half hour drive to the tiny house you and Nat share on the other side of the forest preserve.

As soon as the car is parked, you clamber out of the car and start shouting for her. Nat comes running at the sound of your voice, though she slows at the sight of the massive wolf spread across your backseat.

“Don’t just stand there!” you snap at her. “Help me!”

Natasha jolts into action, grabbing the other end of the blanket and helping you maneuver the animal into your cabin. Once you’re inside, you lay it out on the living room floor. She pushes the coffee table well out of the way, then brings the first aid kit. You kneel beside the wolf, stroking its head and ears with your clean hand, murmuring soft reassurances. It’s relaxed now that you’re inside, and though it whimpers in pain when you begin to clean and stitch the gash as best as you can, it doesn’t growl or move to harm you in any way.

“Should I ask?”

You look up at Natasha as you remove your gloves. She’s been watching from the doorway into the kitchen, cradling a mug of tea between her palms.

“About?” you prompt. Looking back down, you begin to clean up the mess of bloody gauze and wrappers.

“The wolf in our living room. I figured that was pretty obvious,” she says, snorting slightly. “I thought you hated animals.”

You sigh and get to your feet. The wolf lifts its head slightly to look at you and you shush it, leaning down to gently rub its head again.

“It’s okay, stay right there. I’m not leaving, I just have to clean up and get you some water.”

Natasha watches you as you straighten, then push around her to get into the kitchen. While you clean your hands and search the cabinets for some way to give the wolf water without it having to stand up, she sips her tea in silence. You can feel her expectant gaze on you, but you can’t answer her questions, at least not yet.

The magnetic pull you feel towards this wolf, as well as your past with it, feels like something out of a storybook. You have no explanation for why you feel so inclined to help it, nor for why it’s even in your sleepy little town. Its lion friend is nowhere to be found and as you wait for the tap water to turn from ice cold to a drinkable temperature, you let your mind wander to the first time you’d seen the wolf. It had looked and acted so differently. Then again, you’d only just escaped your captors and the drugs they’d pumped into your system had lingered. You had no certainty that anything you’d experienced those first few days was real.

The feeling of needles pricking your skin and long, sharp fingernails digging into your arm makes you shudder. You can still hear the voices of your trainers, yelling at you to control yourself better as they send bolts of electricity through your body over and over again, until finally you lack the strength to control your limbs even in the slightest.

“Y/N! Hey!”

Natasha’s voice, and then her hand on your shoulder, make you flinch. You bat her away and the water bottle in your hand falls to the sink, dumping the water into the basin. It splashes up the sides and onto the counter and floor, but you stare at Nat with wide eyes, chest heaving.

“You’re okay,” she soothes, holding both hands up for you to see. Her mug sits on the counter a few feet away from the sink. “You’re safe.”

You swallow hard, your eyes fixated on her face.

“You’re safe here, Y/N. It was just a memory. I need you to trust me to help you. Can I touch you?” Natasha asks.

You can trust her, part of your brain reminds you. It’s instinctual, and after a moment, you feel yourself nodding. But your skin’s crawling as the anxiety curdles in your stomach and your heart pounds, and your breathing quickens when Nat steps closer to you, reaching for your head.

A low growl from the kitchen doorway makes her stop. She turns, and you let your eyes drop to the white wolf that now stands just inside the kitchen. Blood drips onto the floor from the stitches it’s ripped open, but it stands with all four paws planted firmly on the tile and its teeth bared.

“Whoa, okay,” Natasha says, keeping her hands up. She backs away, moving away from the wolf and closer to you, but the wolf growls louder at her movement.

You stare at it, dazed and confused. Every part of you is telling you to run, but something holds you back. You can still feel the memories pressing at the edges of your mind, trying to push you into them and into another spiral, but instead, you find yourself falling to your knees.

The wolf immediately comes to you. It doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around it, nor does it make a sound when you press your face into the cleanest patch of fur you could find on its body. It simply keeps its gaze focused on Natasha, and it keeps its body positioned neatly between the two of you.

“синица? Can you hear me?”

Slowly, you feel your sense coming back to you as you hold onto the wounded wolf. You swallow, then lick your lips to get rid of the sandy feeling.

“I’m okay,” you whisper into the fur. “I think he came to protect me.”

“How do you know that? Why would he protect you?” Natasha asks.

“He… He led me to the village after I escaped HYDRA.”

Your friend stays silent. She knows about your past, but you left out some of the details from your time after your escape. You hadn’t been sure that the wolf was even real, not until now.

After a moment, the wolf sits and you can feel its strength begin to wane. The two of you are propping each other up, and the realization shocks you back into a more solid state of mind. You blink a few times and inhale shakily, shifting your grip on its fur.

“It ripped its stitches,” you say.

“I can redo them.”

Shaking your head, you pull away and gently help the wolf to lay down on the tile. It lets you maneuver it without complaint and when you meet its eyes, you shiver under the intensity of its gaze.

“Thank you for coming to me,” you whisper once Natasha leaves to retrieve the first aid kit for you for the second time that day. “You have always been my protector, haven’t you?”

You pet the wolf as you work, and as you cut the thread at the end of your second set of stitches, you lean down to press a kiss behind the wolf’s ear. It twitches and you laugh.

“Sweet boy, you’re just a big puppy dog. I’ll bet you’re playful with your lion friend, aren’t you? Where is he? Is he here with you?”

The wolf sighs and tilts his head back to look outside through the sliding glass door in your kitchen. It leads out onto the deck and from the floor, you can barely see the forest that lay beyond.

“Did you lose him? It’s okay, you can stay here. I’ll take care of you.”

You keep murmuring to the wolf, stroking its fur with long, slow movements, until its eyes drop and it drifts off to sleep. Natasha comes to check on you an hour later. She finds you propped up against the cabinets, also asleep, and she gently shakes you awake.

“Pillow,” she whispers, pushing it into your hands. She’d spread a blanket out on the tile and you let her push you down onto your side. You tuck the pillow under your own head as she covers you up with the second blanket.

Taking care of you comes easily to Natasha. She was the one who helped you most throughout your recovery after the wolf had led you to the forest village all those years ago. She had stood by your side through hell and high waters, and you defended her in turn. You’re a great team. When she was forced into retirement by her director, the two of you moved to the most secluded part of the state. You’d purchased the cabin and turned it into a sanctuary for yourselves. Ever since then, you’ve tried to live quiet lives. Natasha gets a hefty pension from the government and you do online freelance work, though she insists that you don’t have to. Her money is more than enough to cover both of you, and then some. She often declares that being able to provide for someone so that they can enjoy life after so much hardship is the one perk to come from her time as a spy.

    When you wake again, you’re curled up with the blanket and pillow, but instead of the pillow cushioning your head, you’re cuddling it. Your head now rests on top of the wolf. He’s warm and his fur is soft, and the steady rise and fall of his chest is so soothing that you almost allow yourself to drift back to sleep right away. The need to pee, however, forces you up into a sitting position.

You yawn and rub your eyes, looking around the kitchen. It’s dark outside now and Natasha is nowhere to be found. You have no doubt that she’s in bed. The clock on the microwave above the stove says that it’s just past midnight, meaning that she’s already finished her nightly routine of checking on her old colleagues and reading whatever classic novel she’s working her way through again. If it were any normal day, you’d also be in bed and fast asleep. 

For a brief moment as you stand, you consider going to sleep in your room after you use the bathroom. Your bed is definitely more comfortable than the hard tile currently beneath you, but you can’t bring yourself to leave the wolf.

His wounds are, surprisingly, mostly healed, though you play that off as a trick of the shadows. It’s dark in the kitchen, even with the light coming in from the sliding door that leads to the backyard. It would be crazy for a wolf—or anything or anyone, really—to heal that quickly. Then again, your wolf has never been normal. He’s appeared to you in the most distressing circumstances, and he’s changed colors. He seems to be able to sense when you are in danger, even if the danger you’re facing is only your own mind.

You’re deep in thought and staring at the animal when he lifts his head and meets your eyes. A bolt of lightning zips down your spine at the eye contact and you shiver, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. He knows you, and you know him. You know that he likes to run in the forests and that his favorite color is a bright, bold blue. He hates the cold and somehow, you know that he likes sushi.

“You’re very strange, my sweet boy,” you murmur. He huffs at your words and shifts slightly on the tile, laying his head down on his front paws. When you move to leave, he whines and starts to get up. You turn and quickly soothe him back down to the floor.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” you explain. “I’ll be right back.”

Once he settles again, you step into the small room and shut the door, turning on the light. You stand at the sink for a moment and stare at yourself in the mirror. Nothing has changed about your appearance, except maybe some darker circles under your eyes than before, but somehow you feel different. You can’t put your finger on what’s exactly changed, but you know it’s there, and that thought scratching at the back of your mind is enough to make you uneasy.

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[filthforfriends]

Chapter 4: Comfort

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Authors Note (CW: Addiction, hard drug use)

Word count: 4.1k

“The label would like to fly you out to London.”

“Do they know we’re broken up?”

“This isn’t for an event. Sony believes that you’re the most effective kind of damage control when it comes to Damiano. They’re probably not wrong.”

“Is he okay?” Already, you’re opening Twitter.

“For now. I think he’s reached a turning point where the drugs are more scary than they are rewarding. If we can just get him into rehab…” In moments of wishful thinking, you’d done some research into rehab programs in Rome. In a moment of poor impulse control you’d stuck Damiano’s name on wait lists, which was no small undertaking. It meant using confidential healthcare information that you knew from the five year relationship. The fact that he hadn’t consented made it not entirely legal, but you justified it as a means to an end.

“The label is willing to refund Damiano for the program, whatever he chooses.” 

“I think the difference might be an Italian-speaking facility.”

“I agree. So you’ll come?”

“Yes,” you wince. This might go horribly and hurt like a motherfucker.  

“Good. Your flight leaves in four hours. The car service will drive you to the hotel. They have a gig tonight.”

“Oh lord.” The chauffeur actually took you straight to the venue, promising to deposit your belongings in your hotel room. You still had your friends and family badge. Wearing it again felt like putting on a costume. The cavernous backstage area was weirdly empty. You had to follow the arrows to the dressing rooms, of which there was an entire hallway. It was unusual that each band member had their own and that none of them were there to greet you. Handlers and security gathered around the entrance to what you assumed was Damiano’s room with crossed arms. You weren’t sure why, until you heard the yelling.

“Shit, he’s gonna shred his voice for tonight.”

“We’re past that point,” someone responds, not even looking at you.

“Just leave him to calm down,” another suggests.

“We need him for soundcheck,” someone else hisses. Many of these staff members were added since the breakup. Luckily, you found Ronnie.

“Hey, staring at him like a zoo animal isn’t helping, no?”

“Oh, hey. Yeah, um…” 

Damiano comes out of either a closet or bathroom, slams the door and bellows, “Why the fuck are you watching me?”

“We don’t know what he has on him or if he’s eaten today.” Damiano slides down with his back against the wall and curls in a ball behind the couch. He’s so defeated and powerless that it shatters your heart into splinters of glass.

“He’s totally dysregulated. Have you offered him food? Water?”

“He’s insisted that he won’t eat,” says another new voice. 

“Get him some pizza from the bougiest place you can find and if he doesn’t eat it, fine. What about his rider?”

“It contained alcohol so we had someone remove it.”

“You removed the whole rider, not just the alcoholic drinks?” You look at Ronnie in astonishment. “Fresh fruit is on his rider because he eats it before a gig. So he has something in his stomach, but it won’t make him sick running around on stage.”

“Right can, uh…can someone get some fresh fruit for Damiano?”

“No citrus, no pineapple,” you add. “Don’t need to douse his vocal chords in citric acid right before a gig. Also throat coat tea and cold compresses to help him calm down. Alkaline water, as well.” You look into the giant dressing room to see if he’s noticed your voice amongst all the others. Dami seems to be in his own little world, and not in a good way. You can’t do this with an audience.

“One more thing, could you just back up a little bit.” You herd the onlookers out of the doorway so you can achieve privacy. “Just a little more, mhm. Okay, great.” Before they realize what you’re doing, you close the doors of the dressing room in their surprised faces. Trying not to startle him, you place a hand on Dami’s back. It smells like he forgot to put on deodorant. Or maybe he was so stressed he sweated through it already.

When that doesn’t elicit a reaction, you rub his back and run your fingernails along his scalp. Dami shivers and looks up in confusion. That was your touch, but how the hell were you here? He’s obviously high, pupils completely blown out. Could phone camera’s catch that on stage? 

“I closed the doors, it’s just me and you here.” He’s still processing, confusion turning into surprise.

“What did you take? Blow and liquor?” He nods sheepishly and avoids your eyes. “What about pills?” Looking sincere, Damiano shakes his head. 

“They sent you here to talk to me?”

��I guess. I’m not here to chastise you, though. It seems like you needed some peace.” You stroke his head, then down his face. Dami leans into you organically. 

“Can we sit on the couch instead of the floor?” As he stands, there's a timid knock on the door. Someone slides a couple trays inside. Fruit and tea on one, ice water water and a stack of cloths on the other.

“Thank you,” you say curtly and lock the door. “Ohh-kay, do you want some tea for your voice?”

“No thank you,” Damiano clears his throat. You wrap the first cold rag on the back of his neck and use the second to softly wash his face, redipping to keep the cloth cold. As much as you’d like to ask questions, it was clear that soothing is what Damiano needed.

“I’m gonna go grab the other tray.” You start eating the fruit yourself, knowing that will encourage Dami, and he takes sips of tea. You exchange the rag on the back of his neck with a fresh one. This is the tipping point. He opens the water bottle, but doesn’t drink. Instead, Damiano reaches towards you, arms around your waist and head in your lap as his face crumples.

“I can’t control it!”

“I know,” you murmur, stroking his flushed complexion.

“I can’t control it and I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I just want to go home.” How childlike we all are, when worn down to the bone.

“That’s why I’m here, to take you back to Rome after this gig.”

“No, I fucking hate Rome,” he bites.

“Rome is your home.”

“No, you were my home and now whenever I go to Rome I can’t come home.” Closing your eyes, you try to steady yourself, with a few deep breaths, then a few more. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I fucked it all up and I’m afraid…it feels like I’m too far gone to turn back.”

“You are not too far gone! People spend years in hard drug addiction and they’re not too far gone. Please, don’t give up on yourself! I haven’t given up on you, not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are right here, right now, acknowledging that this is out of your control.”

“I’m so afraid of getting better because there’s only one direction. If I don’t do it then I’ve failed. If I fail, then I might as well die.”

“No, that’s not true! If you’re alive, then there's always a chance to get better. And if you relapse, you can get clean again.” As you say the words, they sound more like a Hallmark card than a mature piece of advice. Neither of you were equipped to handle this particular moment.

“Then you won’t want me anymore!”

“Yes, I will! My love isn’t that fragile. I am not that fragile. I dealt with your self-destructive alcoholic ass for months before we ended it.”

“I’m never happy. Even the blow doesn’t make me happy, it just keeps me going. The other day I was so close to trying crack, just to see if I would fucking feel something again.

“But you didn’t?”

“No, but I almost –” You lean down and press a long kiss to Dami’s cheek.

“You’ve already started getting sober then. Plus you’ve admitted that you need to get better, that this is all out of your control. Three weeks ago you couldn’t say that. You’re doing good.”

“It feels like it was all for nothing. I burned every bridge to force Sony’s hand in a new contract, and now I’m even more miserable than before. I can’t even enjoy it because I can’t enjoy anything! I’ve driven so many people away and the ones left are other addicts, but they’re all fucking miserable too. I can see them pretending they’re not and its so fucking depressing that sometimes I don’t even want to –”

”Go on,” you whisper horsely, stiller than a granite statue.

“I don’t even want to be alive anymore,” he finally admits. “The entire world thinks I’m a druggie playboy and they’re not wrong. I’ve destroyed all my credibility, every good thing that people thought about me and I’ll never get it all back.”

“I disagree, I think an epic rebrand will be humanizing and make you more lovable than ever. People crave a comeback story.”

“But I never put 100% into getting sober before! I don’t know how to try, what if I’m not good at it?”

“I guarantee you won’t be, which is why you’re going to go to one of the best rehab facilities in Rome. You’re gonna get psychiatric care to treat the why of your addiction so you can stay clean.”

“Come on,” Damiano sits up, face riddled with skepticism. “It takes weeks or months to get into those places.” He starts eating just like you’d predicted.

“That's why you’ve been on half a dozen waitlists for a few months.” Damiano scoffs and catches a grape in his mouth.

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have.”

“How would I –” When he makes the connection, Dami’s mouth falls open in surprise. “You? But you’d need my SSN and fiscal code, right?” You nod with a self-satisfied grin. “Did you steal my identity, y/n?”

“For your own good.” He shakes his head in mock disapproval, but gives it away with a poorly suppressed smile. “I secured a spot for you before I got on the plane.” Secured was a nice way of saying frantically called and pathetically begged until I got a yes. His face falls.

“What? Do you really hate Rome that much? I’ll visit you.”

“No, no…I was just hoping for an excuse to stop by the apartment for a night.”

“When you get out, you’ll make me dinner and meet Cheeto, okay?”

“I’d love that. We’ll have– ‘scuse me.” He makes a face then bolts to the bathroom. Damiano turns on the faucet and fan, but you can guess the sound he’s concealing. Giving him a few minutes before checking in, you snoop through all his stuff. In the bottom of his box of cigarettes is a mostly empty dime bag of white powder that you almost missed. There’s also a pill case at the bottom of his purse which has coke in it, too. You feel silly after checking the room itself for drugs, as if Damiano wasn’t taping heroin to the underside of the sickly-green velvet couch.

“Babe?” Oops. “Dami, I’m coming in okay. In sickness and in health.” He’s sitting on the floor in the corner, panting, face scrunched in pain. You retrieve the water and cold compress tray.

“You really can’t keep anything down?” He shakes his head, obviously exhausted. “I’m so sorry. I know that cocaine can be hard on your stomach.”

“My own fault,” he winces.

“Yeah, but I still hate seeing you suffer.” You sit down on the floor beside Dami and pull his legs across your lap. Naturally, his head rests on your shoulder. You rub his back for a while, wiping it down with a cold cloth first.

“That's nice,” he whispers.

“Mhm.” You make a fresh one to wipe the sweat from his face. Then you take an ice cube and run it across the top of Dami’s chest to stimulate the vagus nerve. His breathing starts to slow and he leans into you more.

“I really miss this.”

“Affection?”

“Comfort. Everyone is…exhausted with me.” Not knowing what to say, you wrap one arm around Dami, set the other hand above his knee, then rock back and forth. For a few more minutes, you sit in silence on the hard tiles of the bathroom floor, just being together.

“Okay, I’m about to fall asleep, which means I need to get ready.” With a grunt, Damiano stands upright, then pulls you up after him. “Thank you, my lo – sweet – y/n.”

“Smooth.”

“Mm, thanks,” he cringes, walking up to the sink. He picks up a travel toothbrush and fresh tube of toothpaste that someone had already left there, prepared for this moment. You unlock the door and peek your head out to find Ronnie leaning his back against the opposite wall. 

“Hey is he, is he gonna do the show?”

“Yeah, can you get us tickets back to Rome as soon as possible? His place is being held at a facility that does 24/7 intake.”

“Like right after the gig?”

“Yeah, I don’t feel comfortable taking care of him overnight. He needs people who know what they’re doing.”

“So he agreed to rehab. How’d you get him in?” 

“Uh, name dropped,” you shrug, trying not to overcompensate. “So by the end of the show we’ll need a car ready with all our luggage, plus a change of clothes for Dam.

“Something inconspicuous. There’ll be a car waiting when you land, of course.”

“What if Twitter finds out we’re traveling?” Fans wanting a picture was inconvenient, but paparazzi wanting a story were truly the worst ever.

“Security will be there as soon as you deplane. We’ll keep this need to know.”

“‘Kay because he can’t handle any stress. I’ll need an ETA before we take off to give the facility and um…I don’t want him to get arrested for drug possession.”

“Damiano never puts drugs in his luggage, he always keeps them on his person.” You can already feel the nerves of walking by drug sniffing K-9s, hoping to god that there isn’t any significant residue in the bottom of his pant’s pocket.

“So we’re depending on the addict to be rational, thorough, and honest in the process of throwing all his drugs out? Really?”

“He’s good about not taking stuff through TSA. We wipe everything down. There's a system and we haven’t been caught yet.”

“And as great as that is –”

“Y/n,” Ronnie takes both your hands in his own. “Neither of you will end up in English prison tonight, I promise.” The lingering skepticism is written all over your face. “I promise,” he insists. 

Damiano acts the very same before going on stage. He smokes a cigarette and bounces in place to mitigate his own adrenaline.You always stand with him in this moment, rubbing his arms and reminding Dami to be gentle while stretching his neck. It’s comforting to see the band comradery persist now that they’ve come together. There's fist bumps, plus Thomas and Victoria threatening to ruin the other’s performance. Mia is joking along with them, cheeks flushed and her top inside out. Tom keeps a hand on the neck of his guitar so it doesn’t hit her.

At this moment, you’d kiss Dami good luck, having to get on your tiptoes because of his stage shoes. Today you slink into the shadows and see him take a breath from an oxygen canister. Their stage manager counts down from ten while shining a flashlight at the floor, so no one trips on a wire or seam in the stage. You can see him put the persona on, then drop the cigarette on the floor and stamp it out. If you were beside him, Dami would take a final puff and hand it over for you to finish. 

Ethan goes on stage first, then the rest of them. The audience releases a wall of sound and the unhinged screaming only intensifies as the lights go up. You can barely hear Ethan’s sticks click as he counts the band in. Mia cheers with the crowd, in case Thomas looks back. They never look back, but you both did it anyway. Just in case. She begins walking towards the audience exit. It was easiest to slip in front of the barricade unnoticed at the beginning because of the hysteria. You feel the tug in your chest to go with her, sing the lyrics to songs that Damiano had shown you first. 

“Y/n! Oh my god!!” It's jarring to be noticed in real time since you feel so stuck in memories.

“Mia, hey!” You try to match her enthusiasm. “Looks like you’re having fun.” You flick the tag of her blouse as she comes in for the hug.

“Yeah, this venue is huge!” She doesn’t pick up the reference, but enthusiastically agrees anyway. Her and Thomas were both like that: sunny.

“I see you made use of the space.” Mia finally looks down.

“Oh shit! We weren’t sure how long the show was delayed, but Tom thought we had more time to, you know, finish. I wouldn’t touch his guitar if I were you.”

“Ew! You guys are disgusting, I’m so happy for you.” 

“Yeah, thank you!” she laughs. “Let me just...” Mia ducks into Thomas’ dressing room and fixes her top. “So, c’mon let’s go watch.”

“I, um…We’re not back together.”

“Okay, but I’m sure Dam would love to see you out there.”

“I can’t be filmed or photographed today. Also if you could not tell anyone that I’m here?”

“Uh, sure,” she’s put off, torn between staying backstage with you and watching the show.

“But, you go ahead! I have a ton of work stuff anyway, so I’m actually gonna be busy.” A total lie, but Mia isn’t the type to question the authenticity of a friend.

“Oh, okay! Love ya, good luck!” She pulls you in for a goodbye side hug, and practically skips down the hall. Was Damiano expecting to see you in front of the barricade? He probably hadn’t thought about the social media and paparazzi component, which meant he’d be disappointed. This realization didn’t change anything, it just made you miserable. 

Except for the roadies, it's just you backstage. The actual concert was their time off, since they began hauling gear in total darkness as soon as the band finished. Despite how labor intensive their jobs were, the crew was in good spirits, their laughter echoing down the hall. They wore all black with tattoos scribbled on their forearms and cursed as much as possible. You consider saying hi, but this is no longer your space. It'd be like walking into your childhood bedroom with the Justin Bieber posters, hot pink bedspread, and tinkerbell night light still intact. You were visiting a past life, like a ghost.

While Thomas opens the encore with his solo, Dami runs back to his dressing room. You know that his body has become dependent on coke to get through a show and that if he stops now, he’ll crash before you can hand him off to the professionals. Still, it's awkward for both parties. Damiano pulls the pill case from his purse and looks at you with a pained expression.

“I…can’t do this while you’re watching.”

“Right, okay.” You stand up and gesture towards the door. “So I’ll just…”

“No, no, you shouldn’t have to leave. I’ll just go in the bathroom.” Dami closes the door halfway and hesitates because that seems a bit excessive.

“Are you gonna shove it up your ass or?” Dami’s laughter bounces off of the tiles.

“No, I only do that on certain occasions.”

“Like a birthday special?”

“Exactly.” You can hear the tap of something plastic against the porcelain sink. “Can you tell me you’re disappointed in me or something? This feels wrong.” You try to come up with something to say, but end up blanking.

“You are…a very bad boy.”

“Kinky.”

“Ugh, I’m trying! Disappointing…your behavior is disappointing. You are too grown not to know better. Refusing to acknowledge a problem exists is…counter productive to healing. You need to prioritize healing because nobody can do that for you. You have –”

“Okay, done!”

“Thank god.”

“See you in 15!” You walk around the kitchen collecting possibly useful supplies for the car ride, plus the pizza box with Dami’s name on it. The chauffeur walks down the hall with Damiano’s clothes in a garment bag.

“Your flight departs in two hours and 41 minutes,” he says in a professional tone. “Shall I take that to the car?”

“Huh?” Oh, thank you.” The jitters have already started to set in. “And has Damiano’s luggage been inspected?”

“Inspected, ma’am?”

“Yes, has someone on their team looked through it?”

“His luggage was packed by a member of their staff, although I am not sure if they inspected it in the process. Should I ask?”

“Yes, please.” He walks away looking bewildered. You hear the final scream of the concert and try to locate Damiano through the rush of activity backstage. Each band member walks towards the dressing rooms with a towel in hand, drying the sweat from their faces. Dami is exhausted, but he smiles wide when he sees you.

“Hey, were you out there?” 

“No, I didn’t want to get mobbed when those photos hit Twitter.”

“Ah, smart.” He’s still disappointed.

“I’m sorry, but I need you to hurry up and shower. There's a change of clothes hanging in the bathroom. Also I made a cup of baking soda and water for your stomach. Our flight leaves in two and a half hours.”

“Jesus.” He pulls his shirt off while walking into the dressing room, the muscles of his slick back rippling. For a moment you’re very distracted with memories of digging your fingernails into that back while he fucked you to overstimulation. Or when you’d peg him from behind, cupping his balls in the palm of your hand, lips to the nape of his neck. Damiano made the most beautiful sounds when he bottomed. So whiny and demanding.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“Huh?”

“I was saying it's so nice to see you,” Victoria panted. Ethan agrees behind her.

“Yes, you look well.” His formal way of speaking had endeared you from the very first meeting. Tom is nowhere to be found, probably finishing what he and Mia started before the gig.

“Oh uh, thanks. Sorry, I’m distracted. Our flight is…soon. Too soon.”

“Like tonight?” Victoria exclaims, pulling her own shirt off. She was bare breasted and unapologetic as per usual.

“Yeah, I guess the sooner, the better.”

“So he’s really going? Of his own volition?” 

“Mhm! He’ll be in the facility by breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Oh my god, that's amazing,” Ethan lets out a huge sigh of relief and Vic grins.

“I’d hug you if I wasn’t disgusting.”

“Well, that’d just give me a boner,” you deadpan. Nobody loved raunchy, flirtatious humor like Victoria.

“Ooh, well since you and Dam are on a break…” She wiggles her eyebrows and shimmies closer, sauntering around you with a provocative expression. Meanwhile, Ethan is silently laughing with his eyes scrunched. It's enough to evoke a genuine smile, but also your heart aches for the months you’d missed with these dumbasses.

“Since he’s busy, do you want me to show you what it’s supposed to feel like?” She gives an over exaggerated wink. There had been a strictly no band members policy in your non-monogamy.

“I heard that! Keep your paws off of her, Vic!!” Dami yells from the bathroom.

“Ugh, fine!” She gives your ass a robust slap before disappearing into her dressing room. Your understanding was that “on a break” and broken up were vastly different things, even though phonetics would suggest otherwise. Had Damiano lied or were you reading too much into it? And why did it make you so happy? Before you can get caught in a hell cycle of intrusive thoughts, Ronnie walks up and hugs you. 

“I’m really glad you came,” he admits, pulling away. Your arms hang limply by your sides in surprise. Ronnie wasn’t the hugging type or the emotional type, but his eyes are glassy. It throws you off guard even further.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah.” He clears his throat roughly. “And we checked everything twice. Someone is currently wiping out Damiano’s purse, just for you.” 

“We can’t all be rock ‘n roll. Some of us have to be anal as fuck.”

“Agreed. I just wanted to wish you luck.” He gives a tight lipped smile and continues down the hall.

“Am I gonna need it?”

“Hopefully not,” he yells over his shoulder.

“Very reassuring, thanks.”

Notes: This is queue. I am currently camping because today is the anniversary of my grandmother's death. Taglist will be updated when I return. Thank you for reading, I promise it gets way less depressing really soon.

-XOXO Eden

Taglist (or taglist removal)

Masterlist

@surelyfreedombound @shinshans @lonnybunnys @davianos-blog @hauntedpostperson @lizzylynch1 @kammerstx@harryssshouseee @slavicgoddess13 @persona1read1ng@katyldamusic @whore4damia @the-chaotic-cow@icarodamiano @gr8rainbowpunk@elvirabelle@bright-shiningstar@maneslut @stardustingold @little-moonbeam-666@que--sera--sera

[after-witch]

Song of a Broken Heart [NeedleAndDead OC Lucas x Reader]

Title: Song of a Broken Heart [NeedleAndDead OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: You crossed a line with Lucas, and it could never be taken back.  OC belongs to @needleanddead​

Word count: 1700ish

Notes: yandere; kidnapped reader; violence; gore; reader death; you fuck around and find out!

There was blood on your hands. Not a lot. Just a smear of blood that still clung to your skin, despite the fact that you were running through the woods at a speed you never knew you could accomplish.

It wasn’t your blood, though. It was from Lucas. Only a smidge, what had seeped from his shoulder when you pulled the knife out. 

The knife had clattered to the cabin floor as he stood there in absolute shock. And then you ran through the front door, bolting as fast as you could.

You didn’t even have shoes on. The forest floor whipped at your bare feet. Rocks and branches and bramble. But the pain had to be ignored. It had to.

Lucas was behind you. He was coming.  You knew he was, without turning back, without thinking.  You swore you heard him breathing hard; gruff, growling noises that made your bowels  turn icy and spurred you on to run even faster.

It could have been an animal. It was night. It was the woods. But animals did not sound so purposeful. Animals did not let out sounds of rage directed, you were sure, squarely at you.

The woods were dark. The full moon above helped a little, but not enough. You weren’t familiar with them, in the way Lucas was. That was how he’d gotten you in the first place. Stupid, lost little you, apparently ripe for the picking while the rest of your camping party was hacked to death.  

And here you were, back in those woods, this time running for your life all over again.

Don’t stop. Don’t fall. Don’t stop. Don’t fall. If you do, he’ll get you. If he gets you…

You didn’t see the hole you stepped in. You only felt your ankle crack, only felt the wind rush at your face. You hit the ground with a dumb oof sound. Your hands scraped against the ground, rocks and branches, squishy mildew.

But then there was the sensation of someone standing behind you. Gradually, reality came into focus, and you heard him. His breathing. The ground crunching underneath his boots. You pulled yourself along,  scrambling backwards like a crab so you could at least see him from your position on the ground.

You almost wished you hadn’t.

He looked wild, manic, his chest heaving and blood still seeping from his shoulder.

Adrenaline propelled you on your feet, even though your foot dragged pitifully as you took limping steps backward. Back and back until you hit a tree. A big, beautiful tree that had been there for hundreds of years before you were ever born and would be there after your corpse was eaten away.

There was nowhere to go. He had you. And it was then that you noticed the axe dragging in his hand for the first time.

“Oh, God,” you said, eyes darting around wildly. Cornered animal and all. Where could you go? There had to be an escape. There had to be.

But.

There was none.

You were trapped in the woods, and he was going to kill you.

He took another step closer and your stomach clenched. Urine ran down your leg, warm against the inside of your pants.

“Please, p-please--” The begging came out all stuttered, incoherent. Stupid. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t really listening to your words, anyway.

He stalked forward. The scar on his neck seemed to stick out more in the moonlight, making it look shiny, damp with his sweat.

“You…” He said, and oh, there was so much contempt in it. It had nothing of the soft, cooing tone that Lucas reserved for you before. Patient and entirely delusional.

Now? Now he fucking hated you, and you saw it raw and clear in him as he came towards you.

The leaves underfoot crunched, branches snapped, and your nerves jolted with each sound.

He stopped in front of you, and it made it worse. Because up close, you couldn’t hide from the anger in his eyes. Anger and hatred and something worse--betrayal. He looked hurt. But the hurt wasn’t soft. It wasn’t something you could smooth over with some sweet words and a kiss on the cheek.

This was a deep hurt, blood red, pulsing with anger. A hurt there was no coming back from.

“Lucas,” you breathed out. Your throat was so dry. You had no spit left to swallow.  Your chest twinged in pain every time you breathed. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m--”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” His spit fell on your cheek, and--

The axe connected with your shoulder before you realized he even swung his arm. There was a startling sound that seemed to come from within your body; a crunching, thudding noise, as the blade broke through your flesh and into the bones of your shoulder.

It hurt in a way you couldn’t comprehend. You had never hurt this much before. And now there was so much pain, concentrated, heavy.

Your body fell forward as you let out a guttural cry, but the blade was stuck into the tree behind you, keeping you pinned by your ruined flesh. You didn’t get far.

You whined in your throat. “Lucas,” you said, barely making sense, half-shrieking the words. “Lucas, wait, wait, I’ll do, I have, I won’t, just--just--” useless, meaningless words came and went as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You cried out again when he pulled against the axe,  yanking it out of your shoulder.

“Oh,” you said, mouth gaping in incomprehensible pain. “Oh--” Blood ran down your skin. You looked at the axe, its silver blade was coated with a thin stream of your blood. A piece of your flesh stuck to it. 

“My… my shoulder…”  You said, whimpering. Your hand went up to graze the injury and it only hurt more. A chunk of your flesh had come out with the blade, and it went deep enough to cut through some of the bone. 

You didn’t quite understand what you were seeing; you’d never been hurt like this. This couldn’t be real. This was something that happened in movies...

The blood that met your fingers mingled with Lucas’ dried blood. You were bleeding. You were bleeding because he hit you with an axe.

When you looked back at him, your eyes were wide with shock and horror and a little hurt of your own.

He didn’t look at you with pity or sympathy. He was breathing wildly, eyes wide. There was blood on his own shoulder from where you stuck the knife in.

Christ, it hadn’t been a carefully thought out plan. It had been stupid and impulsive. He left the knife out for once--and now, you thought, had he done that on purpose?--and you took your chance.

Only you missed his neck.

Only you realized, far too late, that there was no way you could get away from him, even if he was injured.

“Can’t believe I let you trick me.” Lucas was muttering now, his voice hot, low, bitter. His breath hit your cheek, spittle flying. “Just another fake. Liar. Bitch.”

The word stung in the air like a slap.

Not because it hurt your feelings. But because the words confirmed the warm, creeping knowledge that teased and tickled at your chest: you were going to die out here.

You should have known that from the moment your fingers curled around the hilt of the knife, really. But you’d been hoping, stupidly, that you could kill him then. Then you’d hoped, stupidly, that you could run away.

Look where that hope got you.

Your body trembled as pain radiated down your shoulder and your arm. You tried to move it and it made a grinding noise, which did nothing to cover up the pained moan from your lips.

“Wasted my time,” he spat again, and the axe connected with your shoulder again. “Wasted my love.”

The pain was not shocking now, and none of it was masked by adrenaline or surprise. It was sharp and explosive, invasive, sticking inside you like tar.

You screamed and screamed as he hacked away, covering the sounds of his enraged noises, but it didn’t matter. You couldn’t move away. You couldn’t run. You could only feel every last bit of agony as the the blade pinned you each time he swung, precise, strong--until your arm was hanging on by ropes of bleeding tissue. Sharp edges of bone stuck out from the hole.

He swung one more time, and your arm fell to the forest floor. More blood spurted from the wound, seeping, half-gushing out as you stared at the empty, mangled space where your arm used to be.

“My arm,” you said, blank, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Lucas, breathing through his teeth, promptly grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and threw you to the ground without a word.

You tried to scramble away, and there was the dim thought--why isn’t my right arm moving?--before a boot stomped down on your chest.

Sparks exploded behind your eyes, and your chest cracked and split. More pain, this time radiating from inside you, feeling sharp and awful. Something foamy and metallic bubbled up from your lips, and you stopped trying to scramble away. Your arm wasn’t working very well, anyway.

Lucas stood above you, eyes burning with disdain and rage. You could see him so well, despite the pain, despite the blood loss and agony that was starting to make everything so fuzzy.

Your blood was splattered across his face like freckles.

Lucas’s body went all blurry as he moved above you. Turning, pivoting a little and… What was he doing? What was he--

Somewhere, in the distance, you thought you heard chickens.

The axe came down on your face in one swift motion.

There was sudden blackness and untold pain. Hot. Awful. Your nose and mouth split in half, your forehead cracking. There was again the awful inward sound of your bones crunching, like some sort of vibrating speaker that radiated pain. This time that sound blotted out everything else, including the stuttered cry that came from your broken mouth.

He pulled the axe out and raised it again, though you couldn’t see it anymore, couldn’t really think about what was happening other than pain.

Your body jerked reflectively, your arms and legs twitching like a poorly made puppet. You felt only pain and wetness. Blood and urine and tears and something bitter foaming from your mouth.

You heard a sound and there was undoubtedly a final thought somewhere in you, but it was only something half-formed and primal that guttered out as Lucas’ axe came down and severed your skull in half.

Then there was nothing at all.

You were gone.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Fourteen - Chance Meetings

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Fem!Reader, (3rd Person)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad's boss's son. He was the creep that stole girls' underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it's not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn't sleep with him, right? ...right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! Sorry this chapter's out a little late, been doing lots of travelling.

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

“Tomura-kun!” her father greeted a little too happily (re: kiss-assey) as Shigaraki was led to the deluxe little camp the family had set up in the bleachers, “My wife just told me you were here. What a nice surprise!”

“Yeah, I guess…” he pulled his hand free to rub at his neck. A freedom that the younger brother seemed more than happy to grant.

“Onee-chan said he has to sit with us since he doesn’t have any friends,” he said, crossing his arms.

“That’s not what she said!” Shigaraki snapped at him — probably a bit too harshly. But that only seemed to amuse the young boy more. It seemed that a desire to piss him off ran in the family.

“Don’t be rude,” her mother scolded with a light swat to the youngest child’s hand before turning back to Shigaraki with a smile, “We’d love it if you’d sit with us, Tomura.”

She patted the open spot next to her encouragingly.

“O-Okay. Thanks…” he bowed, quick and awkward, then moved to sit down as far away from her as possible while still on the blanket they’d laid out.

“Have you eaten anything?” she asked as he settled, taking him by surprise. 

If he was being honest, he thought for sure that the family would pretty much ignore him once he actually sat down. And if he was being even more honest, he would have preferred it that way. He was completely ill-prepared to answer a question as high-stakes as “have you eaten” right now.

“Tomura?”

He quickly realized that he was taking entirely too long to answer, “Uh—”

A loud grumble interrupted and startled them both. He was pretty sure he’d never blushed this hard in his life as her mother laughed sympathetically.

“I’d say that answers that,” she turned to pull a cooler bag into her lap, “What kind of onigiri do you like? Pickled plum, bonito flakes—?”

“N-No, you don’t have to do that,” he waved his hands up at her and pointed back towards the entrance, “I’ll just grab something from the vending machine.”

“Don’t be silly! We always pack extra,” she insisted, opening up the bag, “And a growing boy like you needs a fresh breakfast!”

Shigaraki considered pointing out that at nineteen, he was actually done growing now, but the way she looked him in the eye left very little room to argue. So that was where her daughter had gotten that look…

He looked down to her insulated travel bag to get away from it and, true to her word, there was probably enough plastic-wrapped onigiri and snacks in that bag to feed the entire swim team. 

(When he thought critically about it, that was probably the reason why she had so much.)

And he’d be flat-out lying if he said it didn’t look delicious. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d had onigiri that wasn’t from a convenient store — had he ever, even? Kurogiri was nothing if not dedicated. Everything he cooked was a full, decadent meal — usually western. Quick and simple were not in his vocabulary. And each meal was always portioned out perfectly so as to never have any meaningful leftovers, nothing to make onigiri out of.

Of course, he knew that he could request anything he wanted to eat, that Kurogiri would be more than happy to make him onigiri if he asked. But then that would involve actually admitting that he was missing something in his life.

So buying stuff from the convenience store was just easier.

“...do you have salmon?” he finally muttered.

“Oh, tons!” she smiled, pulling one of the rice balls right from the top and handing it to him, “That’s my daughter’s favorite flavor too.”

The onigiri slipped a little in his hand at that, earning a knowing smirk from her mother. He kicked himself internally — what a stupid fucking thing to be so happy about. Who cared if she liked salmon? It’s not like that meant anything, it was the best flavor after all. She’d be stupid if she didn’t. Right?

…Ugh. This was going to be a long day.

Continue on AO3

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[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE | CH. 3 (Michael x Reader)

it feels so good to be writing this guy again god... i've rly pulled from my own Michael headcanons for this one so i hope you enjoy! :D

Michael Myers x trans!Reader (he/him)

Summary: "Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You dabbled the brush in the dark red eyeshadow. It would hopefully hide his scars as well. You weren't even sure how familiar people were with his actual face. You wondered if people knew what Michael Myers, the man, looked like. Or if they just saw the white, pale face of the Boogeyman when they closed their eyes.

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Halloween in Haddonfield was always a high-strung time.

Ever since the Halloween killings a few years ago, the town had since taken a hesitant approach to the holiday. Parents went out with their kids or simply stayed home with them. If phones went down or power went out, teens were told to cross the street and get help. But people would still dress up, still go looking for candy, and still sneak out to make out with their respective partners.

But Halloween had come and gone without much issue for you. Of course, Michael had been busy that night. You'd stayed up late into the night to wait up for him, watching horror movies with some candy and popcorn until you heard your back door open and heavy footfalls approaching. He didn't have many injuries - he rarely did anymore - but he was still soaked in blood.

With the holiday over, you wondered what Michael would do next. You lay in bed and stared up at your ceiling for the first few days after Halloween stewing in your worries. Would he leave? Go back to the institution? What was he going to do? Surely he couldn't keep killing, right? There'd be no people left in Haddonfield eventually.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he'd sit on your couch and watch television - intrigued by the nature documentaries and cartoons the most - and follow you around the house when you were home. And if you were out at work or shopping, he'd stalk you from a distance. It became the new normal.

Months passed. Fall colors began to fade to browns and whites as November came. You still left out food for Mayhem in hopes he'd come home but you were beginning to lose hope. All you could do was pray that he didn't suffer before he died or that he wasn't eaten by some other animal. Michael would watch you from the doorway, dressed in a sweater and plaid pj bottoms you'd gotten for him as you sat on the steps of your back door, hoping your kitty would come home. It must've been silly to him but he never stopped you.

He didn't kill. At least, not that you knew of. You tried to avoid the news for the most part and with your dad gone, you didn't have much inside information anymore.

The guilt hadn't really set in yet either. You missed him, of course, but he'd never been very present. The death of your mom had hit him hard and you always felt like he'd never properly forgiven you for it. How a man could resent his son for something he didn't do was ridiculous to you. You missed the idea of your dad more than who he actually was.

But you made Thanksgiving. Michael was familiar with the concept though it had been a long time since he'd participated. So, you went all out. Turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, gravy, the whole nine yards. The two of you ate together on your couch and watched Charlie Brown episodes since those had become Michael's favorite to watch. You both ate your weight in food and fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch. You'd never seen him sleep before and you were momentarily taken aback by how peaceful he looked.

It was nice.

One afternoon when you got back from work, you saw Michael masked up and standing outside your front door, holding something wrapped up in his arms. When you'd gotten closer, fearing the worst, you nearly wept with joy to see Mayhem bundled up in a towel. Cold and shaking and most certainly sick but alive. You'd gone to the vet's office a shaking, sobbing mess, just happy to have your kitty back.

Mayhem had to have surgery for his infected wounds and would be on antibiotics for awhile. But he was home and thats all that mattered to you. You'd thanked Michael profusely and brought home pumpkin pies for weeks after, even with the fall pumpkin flavors out of style. They were definitely his favorite. He liked most sweet things, honestly. You were surprised how much of a sweet tooth he had.

November browns turned to December blues as snow and frost started making appearances. The first day it snowed, you'd bundled yourself and Michael up and gone outside to see the falling snow. He wore the mask much less now, leaving the thing on the kitchen table more often than not, so you got to put a cute wool hat on him and drag him outside with your mitten-clad hand clasping his. "Come see, come see!"

Michael had looked up when he noticed the snowflakes falling. Just a light flurry. He watched as you stuck your tongue out and caught snowflakes on your tongue and gave you a strange look. "Try," you nudged him gently. "It's fun, I promise."

He'd done it but only to make you happy.

And still, he hadn't killed yet. You wondered if it was just a Halloween thing. If he was a normal person throughout the rest of the year. Obviously you'd never pushed about what happened with his sister - you liked living - but you wondered if the killings were a result of the trauma. Trauma that the great Dr. Loomis neglected to acknowledge. Because it was far easier to pretend Michael didn't feel anything. That he held no remorse for what he did. Yet the doctor didn't put together that Michael went from a totally normal boy to suddenly nonspeaking and monotonous after killing her.

It had affected him, even if the doctor nor Michael himself wanted to acknowledge that.

Life continued on. Mayhem made a full recovery and spent his days lounging in the winter sun. You would cut Michael's hair to keep it from growing out of control and he helped you shovel snow from the driveway. You noticed that he liked working with his hands and seemed to enjoy drawing on loose paper around the house, so you got him paints and canvases and cleaned out your dad's old room to let him have an art studio. The two of you lay down old newspapers and he'd disappear for hours up there to paint.

Michael didn't show the paintings to you. Not often anyways. That wasn't really the point anyways. But there were a few times when he'd leave a dried canvas outside your bedroom door or on your bed. Your favorite so far had been a blur of pale blues and whites of a winter sky, your own profile looking up at the sky. The way Michael painted was streaky, like his hands shook when he painted. Lines were messy and colors bled together, but you recognized yourself in his art.

It was interesting, seeing yourself through someone else's eyes - much less his - translated to art. You kept the painting in your room and you'd trace your fingers along the dry paint, tracing his lines. And you wondered - fleetingly and with bright red cheeks - if you looked beautiful in his eyes.

You liked to think that you did.

It was around the middle of December as you attempted to get ready for a holiday party. Attempted being the key word. "Michael," you sighed, adjusting your elf hat. "I told you, I'll be back later tonight. I've left dinner in the fridge and I promise I'll call when I'm coming home."

Michael glared at you. He had a habit of being a brat and you found it equally annoying as you did endearing. He'd put the mask on after he learnt you were leaving but that was pretty normal. Whenever you weren't around, he'd wear it. But he'd also wear it when he was just generally stressed out or upset. He'd become significantly more comfortable not wearing it around the house over the few months you'd been living together.

You wondered, briefly, if he ever slept. You hadn't seen him do so since Thanksgiving and it momentarily worried you.

"If you're so upset, why not just come with?" You snorted to yourself. "I can do your makeup, dress you in a cute sweater. Could be fun." You joked.

You focused on doing your own makeup: dark green eyeshadow and red lips. Makeup wasn't your preference but it suited your elf costume. A simple green tunic with red and white striped knee-high socks. The hat and boots you wore were matching greens and you'd heavily blushed your face, drawing little snowflakes in white liquid eyeliner. It was cute.

You heard heavy footsteps approach you until you felt Michael standing directly behind you. "Wait, are you-?" You spun around to stare up at him. "Are you serious?"

A blank stare. He put a hand around your neck and you noted his tense shoulders. A few months ago, this gesture would have terrified you. Now, you knew that it was just his way of expression. A knife and a violent hand was all he could use to convey things to you. So you didn't panic at all.

"I'm not making fun!" You insisted, lifting a hand to push lightly at his chest. "I just can't tell if you're actually interested in going. You know there'll be people there, right?" Silence. "People you can't kill." More silence. "I'm not kidding either. You can't kill or hurt anyone if you come with me." It had been a long time, sure, but you could never be totally sure what Michael's motives may be.

Michael just let go and took a step back. You gave him a look. It was hard to tell what went on in his head a lot of the time. You'd certainly gotten better at reading him but Michael could still be unpredictable. So, watching him turn on his heel and stalk towards the dresser made you pause.

He fished out a black t-shirt and matching black jeans - clothes you'd gotten him for when he needed to change out of that jumpsuit - and turned to face you. You blinked once. Twice. "You seriously want to go with me to a Christmas party? Dressed up? Without your mask on?"

And Michael nodded once.

That was significant. You could count on two hands the amount of times Michael nodded or shook his head at you. So for him to be this certain about it...

"Alright then, c'mere big guy." You gave him a soft smile and motioned for him to sit on the bed.

As he took the mask off - hands shaking and hesitant - you started leafing around in your vanity drawers as you heard him change. A soft, colored contact lens would help disguise the injured eye. It was a jade green, yeah, but it was better than nothing. Heterochromia was uncommon, not unheard of.

You set the small package aside and looked through makeup options. You found some red eyeshadow you could do around his eyes and on his nose, some blush, and your white liquid eyeliner for details. You collected all your goodies and turned to face Michael on the bed.

Your smile fell when you saw him dressed in the black clothes but still gripping the latex mask tightly, his knuckles whitening as he hung his head and stared into it's face. He looked almost out of place on your bed, amongst the pale blue sheets and stuffed animals.

"You don't have to go." You reassured softly. Slowly, he looked up at you. "I know this isn't something you normally do but," Michael blinked slowly as you continued rambling. "I don't want you to feel like I'm making you go with me. You can stay and I'll be back soon and I- I can bring back pie or something. Don't feel pressured."

Michael stared at you for a long time, fingernails digging into the latex of his mask. The last thing you needed was Michael snapping and killing people at the party. You'd both be in trouble for that.

But you also wondered if he was unfamiliar with being given choices. You'd never forced Michael into anything he didn't want to do and you had a feeling that wasn't typical for him.

He slowly, ever so slowly, unclenched his fingers and let the mask fall to the floor. The two of you stared at it for a long time as he blinked at it. You could tell by the clenching in his jaw that he was certainly fighting something off.

You wanted to make it easier for him.

So you sat down gently on the bed beside him and reached for his face. His flinch was the most emotion you'd ever seen from him and it made your heart clench. "It's just me," you said softly, opening the container with the contact lens inside. "'m not gonna hurt you."

Michael just glared slightly at you. You giggled softly and opened the contact lens case up. You'd have to cover up his injured eye, at the very least. "Alright, have you ever put contacts in?" You asked, looking up at him.

You saw something pass over his face quickly, barely there, before his face schooled itself once again. He shook his head once. This was going to be tricky. It took some time to get the contact in his eye. Neither of you really knew what you were doing. Michael had never put contacts in and you were scared it'd roll back to his brain. But, through your combined efforts, it now sat comfortably in his eye. Pretty blue-and-green heterochromatic eyes. Even with the scarring, he looked... normal.

"Should I even ask if you've ever worn makeup?" You asked teasingly. You knew he hadn't. Probably. But you were curious how new this all was for him. "I'll be brushing your face and around your eyes. Is that okay?"

Michael blinked slowly, which you took for a yes.

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You dabbled the brush in the dark red eyeshadow. It would hopefully hide his scars as well. You weren't even sure how familiar people were with his actual face. You wondered if people knew what Michael Myers, the man, looked like. Or if they just saw the white, pale face of the Boogeyman when they closed their eyes.

Your heart clenched a little as Michael shut his eyes, a hand reaching out to clench your hip tightly. He hated feeling vulnerable. You were only an exception to his 'no-touching-me' thing because you'd proven your loyalty. In exchange, he gave you his protection. But he still disliked giving over control and holding you was the best he could do to abate his worries.

He trusted you, despite himself. The thought made you smile to yourself as you brushed red powder around his eyes. Neither of you had planned on caring about each other so much but here you were.

You hummed to yourself as you worked - some pop song you'd heard while grocery shopping a few days ago that still haunted you - and you felt Michael's grip on you slowly relax. "So, a few of my friends will be there," you said softly, brushing around his eyes in a sort-of raccoon style. It obscured a lot of the scarring, thankfully. You took out some black eyeshadow to highlight around his eyes and make them look sunken in. It made him look just a tad intimidating, black soot that petered out to a dark red. "They might try and talk to you but I'll try and take over. If they ask, I'll tell them you're mute and they won't expect you to speak. Okay?"

Michael gave your hip a squeeze for affirmation.

"What do you want me to call you? I mean, I could just call you Michael but I'm worried it'll look suspicious." You hummed while you dusted red on his nose to resemble Rudolph. "Though I guess no one's worrying about the Boogeyman on Christmas." You teased playfully.

He opened his eyes and gave you a slow blink. It was strange, seeing him look this normal. Soft brown curls still messy from the mask, half-lidded eyes as he stared at you, and a defined jawline. Michael was objectively very pretty. He had good skin and pretty eyes, especially with the eyeshadow, and-

You cleared your throat and reached for the blush. "This might feel a bit rougher than the other brush but it's alright, I promise. Close your eyes again?" He shut his eyes again and you brushed a heavy blush on his cheeks. Before he could open his eyes again, you'd grabbed the liquid eyeliner and held under his chin as you began drawing freckles on the warm pink. Little, simplistic snowflakes around his eyes and white dots that faded out towards his nose. That way you two could match!

You smiled to yourself as you worked and it wasn't until you capped your eyeliner that you realized he'd been staring at you.

There were a few times in the time of you knowing Michael that you wondered if he could read minds. If, in order to be the scariest possible thing to a person, he had to know exactly what scared someone. Of course, you knew that was ridiculous. This wasn't a Stephen King novel. But still. It felt like he knew what you were thinking a lot of the time.

You straightened up and gave him a soft smile as you dropped your hand. It was almost hysterical to you - seeing the Haddonfield Boogeyman dressed up like Rudolph - but you restrained yourself from laughing. So you just stood quickly and went to grab some little horns off your vanity. They were simple, just a brown headband with some simple horns tangled in pretend lights, but they were undeniably cute.

Michael seemed to squint at them before looking at you. "Trust me, they'll look super cute on you." He seemed to relent himself to his fate and let you put the horns on him. Gently, you fluffed his hair so that you couldn't see the headband as easy. Stepping back, you looked him over.

Michael fucking Myers, dressed up as a reindeer. Cute little nose, horns, and all.

"I could just call you Mike," you hummed, tilting your head at him. "That'd be less suspicious." He glared at you and you smiled with a faux-innocence. "What? Don't like it?" Michael glared harder and you laughed. "Alright, alright, I guess Michael isn't that suspicious. Hopefully they won't ask for your last name." You shrugged.

Michael surveyed you silently, tilting his head the way he always did. Inspecting. But, more accurately, looking at something he found fascinating. It was how he looked at his victims sometimes. How he looked at you.

"Well Mikey," you said as you went to grab your bag of belongings, dismissing that train of thought. Technically, your bag was a purse but you didn't think of it like that. "Shall we?"

He just stared at you. He hadn't killed you for the nickname so you assumed it was fine. It wasn't like Michael would tolerate things he disliked, after all.

How Chrissy had managed to get this party together was beyond you. She was a girl you'd known in high school and had kept somewhat in touch with since you'd both graduated. She'd been a year above you and had been dating the quarterback of the football team, or something like that. Popular, well-liked, and clearly still trying to ride the high off of that despite graduating out of high school cliques.

The house was decorated to the nines in lights with little reindeers made of lights sat grazing outside. Soft snow decorated the front of the house and highlighted the pretty rainbow lights all around the exterior. They ran all along the roof and even down the porch where you and Michael stood. You'd rung the doorbell and were waiting for Chrissy to answer.

When she did, smiling widely and dressed in an inappropriate Mrs Claus outfit, she surveyed you and Michael. "And who is this handsome guy? Bitch, I thought I told you to tell me if you knew any cute guys." She teased, letting you both come in and take your coats off. There was already a good amount of people in the large suburban home, most drinking spiked apple cider and Christmas cookies.

Michael held your bicep once he was free of his coat. "Sorry Chrissy, he's, uh," you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with a cover story. You panicked when she gave you an expecting look. "He's my boyfriend." You blurted out quickly.

Well, that worked.

Chrissy pouted exaggeratedly. "Damn. Well, anyways, mingle! Have fun! We're doing the Secret Santa thing later- Oh! Did you bring your-?" You held up the red and green gift bag and Chrissy beamed, happily taking it from you. "Perfect, alright, you're free to go!"

You led the way, Michael still holding your arm, and went to the kitchen. It was strange, leading the Haddonfield Boogeyman through a Christmas party. Usually, you were able to dismiss the fact he killed people from your mind. It had gotten easier since he hadn't killed anyone in nearly two months, but you didn't play ignorant for his sake.

The kitchen was clean, white, and pristine. Chrissy's parents had a maid who cleaned everything so their house always looked more like an interior design catalogue rather than a home. You swiped a candy cane sugar cookie and gestured for Michael to grab one.

He just stared at you, eyes widened ever-so-slightly. "What?" You asked. His head tilted to the side and you felt your face heat up. "Oh, sorry... It was the best I could think to say in the moment. Are you... okay with that?"

Michael stared at you, eyes calculating. You almost began spouting apologies again before he took a cookie - frosted to look like a snowman - and bit into it, never breaking eye contact. You weren't sure if that was approval or disapproval so you both just stood there. Staring awkwardly at each other and eating sugar cookies.

When he finished his, he seemed to straighten up. Stepping forward, he gently brushed his lips to your forehead. Not a kiss - he wasn't exactly skilled in that area - but the intent was there and the message was clear. Your face lit up and you nodded when he pulled back. You could've sworn his eyes softened. "Cool. Cool, okay." You said softly.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek - leaving a faint lipstick stain - and grabbed another cookie with a glass of the cider. You passed him the cookie and motioned for him to follow you into the crowd as you suppressed a giddy smile.

The party went smoothly, all things considered. Of course, everyone you talked to wanted to meet your new boyfriend. "It's a recent development," you'd say. If anyone asked him questions, he'd bite into the cookie and you'd answer for him. He was a mechanic you'd met when he worked on your car. He liked painting and was sweet with your cat. And you'd been dating for a month and a half now.

Michael would occasionally hold your wrist as you two walked around. It felt normal. Painfully so. As if you and Michael were just two normal young adults at a Christmas party. As if you weren't harboring Haddonfield's own serial killer. It felt sweet - feeling Michael hold onto you as you led him around. You'd hold his arm sometimes when you talked, pleasantly buzzed from the cider and enjoying the warm Christmas atmosphere with your boyfriend.

Perhaps it had come too easily to you to call him that.

When Chrissy's parents came home with some of their own friends, you hadn't thought much of it. Until the sinking, chilling remembrance that Chrissy's dad - John Kallas - was a police officer. A friend of your dads. Who had been part of the force looking for Michael around Halloween time.

You clutched his arm as one of your friends talked to you, not really listening to them and instead focused on keeping Michael out of sight of Officer Kallas.

But the older folk seemed to retreat to one of the sitting rooms, barely sparing the partygoers a glance. You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

The Secret Santa went without a hitch. You sat next to Michael on the couch and curled at his side. He'd seemed surprised at the gesture and slowly put his arm around you, making you blush sweetly. You'd gotten a new book on plants and growing vegetables ("Oh, you think I should grow tomatoes?" You'd looked at Chrissy. "Well, if you insist!" She'd laughed.) and you leafed through it, skimming the words as you sat against your boyfriend's side.

When it finally came time to leave, you chatted with Chrissy in the doorway as you and Michael shrugged your coats on. As you went to step out the door, Officer Kallas was making his way to the kitchen and you saw his stumble out of the corner of his eye, watching you and Michael leave.

You took his arm tightly and walked briskly to the car, not wanting to give the officer the chance to come see if he'd really seen The Boogeyman as your date to his daughter's party.

Christmas came and went. You'd gotten Michael new paints and a sketchbook with some charcoals and the two of you ate pie and roast chicken and cookies you'd made after Michael's insistence. Apparently the ones at Chrissy's party had swayed him. At least he'd helped you make them. His frosting skills left much to be desired but he had fun painting them and adding sprinkles.

At one point, you must've gotten frosting on your cheek. Slowly, he'd reached over and brushed the offending icing from your face and he licked it off his thumb absentmindedly. As though it were a perfectly normal thing to do.

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. Neither of you had really brought up the party - or your relationship. At one point while frosting, you'd decided to see something and stood up under the guise of getting more icing. You paused, brushing curls back from his forehead as you tilted his head back, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

He blinked up at you slowly. Like a cat did to show it trusted you.

As you made your way to the kitchen - trying and failing to stifle your smile - you felt his eyes on you all the way.

But it was New Years when things really changed.

You and Michael had the television on with the channel turned to watch the ball drop. It wasn't typically a tradition you cared about but you could tell your housemate was intrigued. He'd been upstairs painting for most of the day while you cleaned the house up a bit. It was still too snowy out to be gardening. You looked forward to spring and being able to set up your garden again.

Once the sun set, you made hot chocolate and ordered pizza. Michael preferred just plain cheese but you'd gotten yours with olives - something Michael always gave you looks for.

It was cute. He had a lot of personality once you knew where to look. And he'd clearly gotten very comfortable with you during the time you'd been living together.

The two of you had been sitting on the couch. 11:59PM. One more minute until the new year. "It's not the most exciting thing in the world," you said from your spot beside Michael, "but it's cute. It's nice to see everyone get together over something like this."

Michael had just stared at the television with a slight tilt to his head.

10...

You felt your throat tighten as a thought came to your head. Chrissy's words came back to you as you recalled her talking about her favorite New Years tradition.

9...

"Hey, Michael?" Your voice was soft. You'd barely even realized you'd spoken until you felt his eyes on you.

8...

Swallowing was a challenge for you. "There's, um, a kind of New Years tradition. That, um, means-"

7...

"-you'll have good luck for the rest of the year."

6...

"Want to do it?"

Michael just stared blankly at you. His eyes darted between your two eyes, calculating.

5...

He gave you a single nod. You quickly darted your tongue out to wet your lips.

4...

"Trust me," you said more than asked.

3...

He just stared at you as you moved your hand up slowly, touching his face with your fingertips. It felt like the sound of your heart pounding was audible, even over the sounds of the tv.

2...

Michael's eyes widened ever so slightly.

1...

You leaned forward and kissed him. The sounds of cheering could be heard but it sounded like it was underwater. All your senses were fixated on the man in front of you. He felt tense under your touch, even as you slid your hand to better cup his face.

But then you felt him lean into the kiss and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

Michael didn't exactly have a lot of experience with kissing but he was clearly trying. You scooted closer and he put his hands on your hips, lifting you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

You sat in his lap as you kissed, parting occasionally to breath but you only felt yourself choke when Michael would stare up at you with half-lidded, glassy eyes.

He was pretty, you admitted to yourself freely before leaning back down to kiss him again. Slowly, you ran your hands through his curly hair as you kissed.

Things changed on New Years but you certainly weren't complaining.

The snow had finally begun clearing up and you could go outside again with relative ease. Rain and sleet was more preferable to snow for you, since it made walks in the forest more enjoyable.

You and Michael were dating. Or, at least, the closest he was comfortable with in regards to dating. You kissed sometimes, he'd stand at the foot of your bed when you slept, and he let you touch him more. Slow but steady progress.

He seemed to genuinely like you and trust you.

One day, you'd needed to go shopping to grab some things. "Michael?" You called out as you fastened your shoes, "I'll be back around 5:30, alright?"

Ever since the party, he'd gotten better about you leaving the house for short periods of time so long as he knew when you'd be coming back. Because if you didn't, he'd hunt for you. You didn't doubt that.

Michael appeared in the doorway of the kitchen a few feet away from you, staring at you. You shot him a smile and grabbed your bag. "See you soon!" And off you went.

Looking back on it, you wished you had stayed home.

At the grocery store, you had been examining a box of cereal when someone approached you. Chrissy. Her smile looked tight, forced. "Hey," she said sweetly. "How've you been?"

"Good," you said, looking concerned. "Are you okay-?"

"How's your boyfriend. What was his name, uh, Michael?" She looked like she'd be sick and you felt a jolt of white-hot adrenaline rush through you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed the worst. Her dad was standing at the end of the aisle dressed in his uniform with his partner beside him. And they were watching you.

"He's traveling. Went to see family." You tried to keep your voice neutral.

Chrissy pouted. "Someone die?" Her faux sympathy got worse. "Maybe his sister?"

She knew. You don't know how she found out, but she knew. You don't know why they took so long to do something about it but you felt compelled to run.

Times like this you wished you had a way to get ahold of Michael.

You tightened your grip on your bag and narrowed your eyes, hoping you could maintain your lie. "No. His dad is sick."

Chrissy clearly didn't believe you. But she didn't stop you as you put the cereal box in your cart and walked away. You could hear footsteps picking up the pace behind you and you picked up speed.

When Officer Kallas called your name, you turned on your heels and shoved the metal cart forward, driving it into his stomach. You took the opportunity to bolt out the door as you heard him call for backup on his walkie talkie.

His partner was still hot on your heels as you ran towards your car. All you had to do was get inside and you could get away. Go to a phone booth or something and call Michael. Tell him to get Mayhem and get out and you'd come get him. Something. Anything.

But you'd never get the chance. Because the officer grabbed you around your middle and lifted you. "Put me down!" You shrieked.

"You're being taken into police custody for suspicion of harboring a criminal. Come with me." He dragged you towards a police car where Officer Kallas was standing.

They overpowered you, shoving you into the backseat and slamming the door, locking you in. Tears fell down your face as you panicked. He wouldn't know they were coming. They'd catch him and then what? Would they kill him? Shoot to kill?

You felt like throwing up. All you could do was curl up in the seat and sob.

The only thought on your mind was that you hoped he'd be okay.

Dr. Samuel Loomis considered himself a brilliant man.

He'd been on Michael Myers' case since the child first arrived at Smith's Grove and he liked to think he knew Michael better than anyone. He'd studied the boy, subjected him to various medications, attempted to trigger anything out out of the man.

Years went by and there had been no response. So there had been talk of releasing Michael with parol. Dr. Loomis had done everything he could to prevent that from happening.

Then Halloween had come and Michael had escaped. And, yet again, he had escaped.

"Doctor?" Officer Kallas's voice broke the psychologist from his stupor. He'd been staring out the window of his office again, lost in thought.

"Come in." He turned, looking over his shoulder and freezing.

There you were. In handcuffs with tear tracks on your face. "We apprehended them like you asked. We'll head to their house to retrieve-"

"Don't," Loomis held up a hand. "No. We've got all we need right here." He approached you slowly, like you were something to behold. You felt gross under his stare. "Michael will come looking for them. Then we'll catch him. We can't give him any advantages."

Officer Kallas nodded and you bit your tongue to prevent any objections from spilling past your lips. You didn't want to give the doctor any more information than you had to.

The officers left you alone with him and he sat at his desk. "Tell me," he hummed, "what was being held captive by Michael like?" You looked at him, brow furrowed. He seemed to misinterpret your confusion. "I know you were held by him for quite some time. Your friend Chrissy told her father about it. You were-"

"I wasn't prisoner." You spat, almost offended.

"So you were simply afraid." The doctor clicked his pen, beginning to write something.

You glared at him. "What is this, an interrogation?"

Dr. Loomis lifted his head. "I've studied Michael for sixteen years," he said, "and I've never seen him so fascinated by another human being."

"Maybe you're just shitty at your job." You scoffed.

Were you not glaring daggers at the man, you would've missed the angry look you received back. "Perhaps." The doctor said. "But in good time, my theories will be proven." He stood from his desk, approaching the door and grabbing your arm. "Michael will come for you. And when he does, I'll finally rid the world of that potent evil."

You wish you'd stayed home.

[jamevaa]

Part 2 (?)

Sam hasn't dreamt about Jess in a while. He wakes up feeling slightly unsettled, a phantom ache like how his shoulder sometimes remembers being dislocated too often on humid days. For a moment he's disoriented, the walls too far and too close, no rotating fan in his field of vision, but Dean's soft snoring settles him into the present like very few things can; a remote cabin, ancient but surprisingly clean, so far north they could practically spit in Canada, hunting an extremely familiar case of not-actually a wild animal attack. 

His phone says it's a little after 4. Sam considers going back to sleep, Dean's arm warm over his ribs, but years of experience have taught him it's no use. Instead he rubs sleep out of his face, carefully slipping out of bed. The floor's cold in the small kitchen. He wrangles the old drip coffee maker and settles at his laptop.

The deaths point towards werewolves, but the territory's massive. Sam looks at the pattern of bodies, pins dates and times, locations, tries to see patterns. There's nothing consistent, so he turns to victims. Some hikers, some folks that lived away from people. A researcher. 

Something pokes at the back of Sam's mind and he focuses on the researcher.  Digs into her area of study, more details on why she was out there. It's not hard. This kind of information isn't really protected. By the time Dean shuffles in, Sam might have a location. Well, a smaller territory, at least.

"Hey," he greets. He started a new pot of coffee in the last hour. Dean pours himself a cup, bleary. Nurses it in silence for a few minutes, hip leant against the counter.

"Did you get any sleep?" Dean finally asks.

"Enough," Sam answers. They got to the cabin close to midnight the previous day and he'd slept a little in the car. "I think I know where we can start looking."

Dean leans over his shoulder to look at his screen, body still bed-warm and radiating. Sam tilts the screen up a little. 'So whatever's out there, I think they're following a tagged lynx." Sam points at a highlighted piece of map. "I cross referenced the tag's geolocation data with the deaths and they all happened more or less where the animal was at the time."

"Think we could be dealing with a werelynx? Maybe it's a new kind of monster."

Sam etches a smile. "Maybe. More likely, that tag got eaten by something bigger."

Dean makes a disappointed noise and straightens with a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Good find." He goes for the fridge. They'd brought a few things, but not much. Mostly it's empty shelves and drawers. "How'd you even think of that connection?"

Sam hesitates, unsure, but the feeling of being found in the dark and numbness by a pair of green cat's eyes is still sharp relief. "I dreamt you were a cat. It gave me the idea."

Dean tilts his head with a why not quirk of eyebrows. "Bet I make a great cat."

Part 1 : https://www.tumblr.com/jamevaa/744416290534473728/sam-sits-on-the-sidewalk-long-after-the-fire-has?source=share

[themswritinwords]

Find the Word Tag III

Tagged by @blind-the-winds

Tagging @stesierra @silvertalonwritblr and @cwritesfiction for the words truth, flight, counter, and mist.

Also leaving an open tag for anyone who would like to participate, and your words will be stay, price, trouble, and hold.

My words were frankly, forest, fix, fade, and friend. I pulled from The Hundred Fifty Seven Deaths of the Immortal Ethan Ellis, though I had to change tense/grammar because "frankly" didn't happen, and "fade" in the present tense happened right in the middle of a big spoilerous pivotal scene.

frankly

“I’ll be frank with ya, E,” Ira said solemnly as he pulled an ancient ten dollar bill out of an even ancienter leather billfold. “God love ya, and so do I, but yer about as dense as cold molasses and yer feet are even colder.”

forest

Over his twenty-odd years, Ethan had made it a point to stay out of the woods where there wasn’t a path—those stories Mam had told him about children getting eaten by wolves and witches had stuck with him. So he wasn’t exactly an expert on the matter of forests at twilight. Still, even he had enough experience to know that this particular forest was far too quiet. No movement in the sparse undergrowth or thick-laid leaf litter. No reaction to his presence from animals of any kind, large or small. Not so much as a birdsong or insect buzzing. The only sound that reached his straining ears was his own quick, shallow breath and the damp shuffle of his bare feet on the debris of the forest floor.

fix

Her feet sounded rapidly on the stairs and immediately returned with the same speed. She held a small leather bag out triumphantly. “If we’re gonna figure out how to fix it, we need to know exactly what it’s doing to you. Feel up to moving?” “That depends,” Ethan said warily. “How far, where to, and what’s in the bag?” Rolling her eyes, Anna crossed the living room and turned on a floor lamp, then spread Ethan’s couch blanket onto the ground. “Just over here, just over here, and exam equipment.” “What was that last one?” Ethan gulped. “I just want to get a look at how your body is handling this,” Anna explained. She knelt beside the blanket, patted it invitingly, and began taking things out of the bag. A stethoscope, one of those triangle hammers for testing reflexes, fancy forehead thermometer, even an ear flashlight. “Why do you just have these things in your house?” Ethan murmured, watching her remove a blood pressure cuff.

fade(d)

The muzzle flashed. But the pain never hit. Suddenly, Ethan was standing above himself, looking down at the moment as a bystander. A cold wind ruffled his hair, and something hard and sharp clawed up his back, slipping tenderly around his shoulders. Oh Ethan. You always were a bold one. The stench of decay flowed over him as bony fingers stroked the sweat-limp hair from his forehead. The scene before him faded into a dark void, and hot breath whispered on the back of his neck. I’m going to miss that, you know.

friend

Ethan spat aside the tiny flashlight he had pilfered from Lee’s glovebox. “What?” He started shuffling back out again. “You might wanna stay under there,” Anna suggested. “Your friend is back.” Blinking in the sunlight as he emerged, Ethan followed Lee’s surreptitious pointing toward the abandoned storefront. There, under the awning, the man from outside the Auto Zone had parked his cart and was resting against one of the concrete pillars. Lee gave Ethan a warning look. “I don’t want—” “Incidents,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “I know.”

[sparkywrites25]

Wings of Survival

Summary: In that moment, Levi Ackerman is faced with an awful decision regarding the bodies of his comrades but maybe he can be spared making it.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Petra Ral | Rivetra

Taglist: @lunar-rainclouds @captain-natey @1wholeheartedly-nii

We could have made it home clear… Levi thought with a bitter rage as he rode towards the back of the formation where two horses, one laden with the unnecessary burden of a dead scout, were struggling to keep up with the rest. Levi’s eyes lifted towards the two titans that were following them. A 12-metre and a 10 metre. Hardly small fry. White heat blazed away in the captain’s check as his attention shifted to the panicking soldiers in the wagon. 

His eyes fixed an icy stare on the stubborn scouts currently luring the titans towards them all. Dieter and Jurgen, the two who wanted to fetch their comrade’s body. 

Insubordination as well as stupidity, Levi mused. We could have made it without any more losses, you thoughtless, selfish bastards. 

Even from this distance, he could see the realization of what Dieter and Jurgen had done cross their faces as they shot horrified glances at the rapidly oncoming titans in pursuit. They kicked at their horse’s sides harder, shaking the reins like the poor animals weren’t already running for their lives. 

It happened so quickly that Levi almost missed it. Ivan’s body toppled away from Dieter and rolled onto the ground and, ultimately, right under a titan foot. 

Levi cursed under his breath. So now, all of this was for nothing. His hands gripped the reins so hard that the leather pressed painfully in his hands. 

We’ve lost enough fucking people today and now we’re losing more. The faces of his squad appeared one by one before his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as they showed up. Except for one. Her face lingered, the sight of her smile bringing up snatches of images of her writhing beneath him, her smile heightened by rosy cheeks and her lips pecking across his cheek as his body dropped onto hers, overcome by bliss. Less than twelve hours had passed since she was waking up in his arms, welcoming his kiss and telling him this mission would be okay. When they both knew that might well be a lie.

Still, I wouldn’t put my living comrades at risk to give her shell to her father… not that there was one to give anyway. 

Levi’s thoughts flew back to the forest where the bodies of Gunther, Eld and Oluo were strewn in the female titan’s wake. While there was no sign of Petra, there was enough blood to indicate that she’d been eaten. Either that or directly swallowed. His grip hardened even more on the reins and felt the material digging into his palms. If he believed in such things, he might have believed that the world hated him. That he was only allowed a few years of having people around him, having people he cared about before they were taken away again. But he didn’t believe in that crap. This was just a shitty world and now it had taken his squad too. It took her. 

Captain… 

The use of his rank had never given him feelings like this before she joined his squad; tiny shoots of exhilaration spreading through him. He’d never feel that again. 

He grit his teeth, shoving those thoughts away as he neared the back of the formation.

A titan fist reached out and grabbed Jurgen next. The man writhed and screamed as he was brought to the monster’s mouth. 

Levi grit his teeth, cursing his injured ankle. Another soldier gone. 

Jurgen had made a reckless and stupid call but he didn’t deserve to be eaten for it. Levi could understand that desire that had driven him and Dieter to this; he was just experienced enough to know that it was a bad idea. 

Dieter may well have been heading for the same fate if a slim, quick figure with dark hair hadn’t appeared. Levi watched the recognizably skilled movements of the young cadet as she cut the titan down before it could kill Dieter and then moved on to finish off the other. Surprised she left Eren, he internally scoffed although it was good to know she was still in good fighting form. It was one of the few mercies in this shitshow.

Another two titans were moving in from the west, full out sprinting after the wagon. Mikasa looked back towards them. 

“Leave them!” Levi shouted to her. “Go back to Eren.”

“Sir!” she called back, giving one last look towards the titans before urging her horse into a full gallop and away from the wagon. 

Levi maneuvered his horse into turning around so it was now running alongside the wagon in the same direction. There was no real mystery as to why this wagon was currently failing to outrun the titans. Several rows of corpses occupied most of it plus the weight of the two soldiers guarding them. The solution was painfully simple and disturbing. It came down to another sacrifice; a last gesture for grieving families versus the lives of those soldiers still alive. 

Nausea clawed at him. “Dump the bodies!” he ordered. 

The soldiers’ faces snapped around to look at him, unmistakable horror covering them. “Sir?!”

“Dump the corpses. You need to jettison the extra weight.”

“But sir, we can’t!” One of the soldiers protested. “It’s not— Their families--”

“If you don’t do it, the horses will tire and the titans will catch up,” Levi told them, voice terse as his gaze jumped between the titans and the wagon, placing a hand on his leg. This conversation would be unnecessary if he wasn’t injured. Damn it all. “Then the titans will kill you and squash them anyway. Either way, these bodies aren’t gonna make it home.” He knew his reasoning was cold. He knew he was a bastard and that right now, he sounded like one. He had to. 

The soldiers flinched in the same way Dieter and Jurgen had earlier. Now they had a choice to make? Would they follow in Dieter’s idiotic example? What choice would they make? What path would they choose? He observed them as they eyed each other, each one searching for any indication of what the other thought they should do. It irritated the hell out of him, reminding him of Erwin’s advice after Isabel and Farlan had died. Don’t leave your choices to other people. Decide for yourself.

“Do it!” he snapped at them. 

“Sir!” They answered, faces painted with anguish and turning towards the bodies.

A rushing sound, accompanied by a female battle cry cut through the air, pulling all three men’s attention from the corpses. Levi’s head whipped around. Over his shoulder, behind one of the titans, a figure flew towards its nape. There was a flash of ginger hair before they disappeared behind the titan’s neck. His heart gave a flutter in his chest. Could that really be…?

Petra…?

xxxxxxxxxxx

Heat rushed at Petra’s face as her blades cut through the titan’s nape. Her eyes watered so much that she turned her face away as she completed her swing, body flung high into the air. Cool air soothed her heat-seared skin and she spun herself in the air. Not as gracefully as the captain, mind you. 

In doing so, she snatched a few seconds of taking everything in below her; the formation in retreat, wagons nearly overloaded with wounded and the dead.  Levi riding next to the last wagon surprised Petra. Why wasn’t he engaging the titans himself? 

She had no time to linger on those thoughts. She dropped, firing a cable into the upper back of the other titan, keeping one eye on her previous adversary as it stumbled, feet catching on each other, forcing it to fall sideways. It knocked into the other titan just as Petra shot towards the nape of the upright titan’s neck. Instead she collided with the dying titan’s hair (as well as another stinging blast of heat.) 

Petra cursed as her face met with a mass of hair. She felt her cable unhook from her intended target as a force suddenly knocked the dying titan’s head back. The impact sent her backwards as the titan collapsed. The other titan’s fist hovered in the air, covered in blood. As Petra fell, her eyes met enormous curious ones that were now following her movements. 

Shit. 

xxxxxxxxxxx

It was Petra. As soon as that damn titan had lurched forwards from the slice, Levi had gotten a decent look at her. Something loosened in his chest. You haven’t lost her. He stared after her moves, watching how her attempt to cut down the second titan was ruined by the first one tripping into it. 

His fist clenched on his leg. The impact of the titan’s fall as well pretty much guaranteed that Petra’s approach would be spotted sooner now. 

Fucking dammit. Clumsy oaf. 

Levi pulled his horse into slowing down and turning back towards the scene unfolding in front of him. 

The titan that had been knocked into retaliated with a punch straight to its comrade’s face. The impact caused Petra to fall backwards, or maybe she jumped. In either scenario, it was worse news since the titan was already half-turned and its watery eyes were staring at her as she dropped. 

Her falling wasn’t a problem in itself. Unless her gear was damaged, she could hook onto the titan but being able to do an attack would be so much harder now.

Levi’s heart pounded so loud, he couldn’t hear the disappearing mass of rumbling hooves anymore. His blood burned. Every instinct pulled at him like a puppet. 

Fucking titans.

When he looked up at Petra again, she was flying up towards the titan’s face. 

Voluntarily.

“Don’t be stupid!” he roared, panic and anger poured into his shout.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Thank the Walls for slow titans, Petra mused as she shot her cables into the titan’s forehead. It was an incredibly irresponsible and reckless maneuver and it was only going to amplify her immediate danger by about 1000% but hooking onto its back was no longer an option.

The cable pulled at her navel and she swung up towards the titan’s face. 

“Don’t be stupid!” The captain roared and Petra knew he was looking at her. She heard the incredulity in his voice as she neared the mouth. Really gotta time this right, she thought as the titan began to open its mouth. Petra gagged as its foul breath reached her. Decay and blood hit her in a wind. 

She shot her hook into the shoulder. At this close range, she landed on it just as the titan’s mouth snapped at the air she’d been occupying. Petra squeaked as she landed. That was way too close. There wasn’t enough time to think too much though. She fired her hooks into the top of the titan’s head, allowing her to dangle as she jumped off the shoulder. It didn’t leave much for momentum and the titan was already moving around, trying to move her. 

She clambered up to the nape but being able to stay there was hard with the movements. She lost her footing and swung in small semi-circles while the titan tried to figure out how to get its arms to such an awkward spot. 

After about five swings, Petra just gave up on regaining her footing and began slashing the nape each time she passed.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Levi’s heart was on the verge of forcing its way out of his chest after witnessing the titan’s near miss. 

Too close. Too fucking close. One second longer and he’d have been watching her die. His chest clenched like his ribs were squeezing at his heart. His chest gave a heave and the sick feeling swelling in his stomach was borderline painful. 

Screw this. He wasn’t going to lose her twice. 

He began to charge towards the titan. “OI! You dumb brute!” he called out. “Over here, ugly!”

xxxxxxxxxxx

The swings and slashes were particularly uncoordinated with the titan’s attempts to turn and reach for her. A hand came flying toward her once or twice but Petra slashed at it whenever it did. 

“OI! You dumb brute!” Levi shouted. “Over here, ugly!”

Petra’s heartbeat quickened. Captain… From her position, it wasn’t possible to see him but she didn’t need to, to know what he was doing. If it had been most people except for Levi Squad and certain officers, she would have called them out on their recklessness (however hypocritically). But Levi could handle himself. What’s more, he was giving the titan a target that it could see. Unless this thing was an abnormal, it should focus on that.

The titan turned towards the sound, its body going still. Petra immediately began clambering up the titan’s upper back. The titan turned its head again, only for Levi to shout up to it.

“Hey ugly! Look at me when I’m talking to you. You filthy beast. When was the last time you jumped in the river? Of course, it’s, probably best you don’t. We don’t want to drink your disease-ridden filth. You’re disgusting, the lot of you.”

The titan looked away again, re-focused on wherever Levi was. Petra bit down on her lip hard to fight back a laugh as she reached the nape of the neck. 

She readied out both of her blades and swung them in a vicious arc across the titan’s skin. Another blast of heat hit her and she dropped back to get away from it, extending the cables until she hovered over the hips. 

The titan crumpled forwards, hitting the earth with a boom and Petra recalled her hooks, sliding down its back until she could jump off its shoulder. She scanned around the area until she spotted the captain to the left. 

He guided his horse into walking towards her, his expression pinched like he was in pain. “That was too fucking reckless, Petra!” he barked. He was breathing harder than usual. “You were so fucking close to being titan food. That move towards his face… that’s never okay, do you hear?” 

“Yes,” she said, cringing as she approached him, “I know, Captain. I was pretty desperate,” she admitted. Putting fingers in her mouth, she whistled for her horse. The noise pierced the surrounding countryside. In the distance, the formation was growing smaller and smaller. No horse appeared to be approaching so far.

“You should have retreated, got to the ground and tried again.” Levi continued, slightly breathless now A deep scowl was etched into his features as Petra moved by his side. “You shouldn’t be so careless with your own life, Petra. We have to fight smarter than that.”

His wording was… interesting. “I’m a Scout,” Petra smiled weakly. “Isn’t being careless with our lives what we do?”

His brows knit together so quickly, they formed a single thin line across his crumpled forehead. “You think this is funny?”

Her smile dropped. “No. ‘I’m sorry,” she told him. It was then she saw that he was holding a hand down by his side. She slipped a hand into his and felt him squeeze. 

“For fuck’s sake, Petra,” Levi breathed. “You came so close— I already thought--” He cut himself off and pulled on her hand. “Get on,” he jerked his head. 

“I can get my horse.”

“It’s run off,” he insisted with a low growl. “We can’t linger here.”

Petra raised anxious eyes to him. “It’ll slow your horse down with two of us.”

“Luna can manage,” Levi’s tone was curt. “Your horse isn’t coming.” Petra raised her fingers to her mouth again to whistle but Levi tugged her hand again. “Please?” His voice went super quiet. “Let’s get out of here.”

Petra gazed up at him. His features had softened into sadness now rather than annoyance. She nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand slid down her wrist and he helped pull her up behind him. Once he was sure she was secure behind him, her arms around his waist, he urged Luna into a gradual gallop. Soon the trees and fields were whipping past them.

“Thank you,” Petra murmured against his neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “for distracting that titan.”

“Your kill would have taken about ten times as long if I hadn’t.”

Petra released a huff, wishing that she could argue with him about that but it was likely true. She took a small measure of warmth from the slight tinge of pink to the captain’s cheek from her kiss. “Yeah, fine,” she mumbled into his shoulder. 

His hand covered one of hers at his waist. “Never pull that shit again,” she heard him mutter.

She leaned her forehead against his neck. “I’ll try and avoid it.”

“Not fucking good enough.”

“Captain, I might have to do it at some point.”

“Tch. I doubt there’ll be a situation where it’s your only possible move, Petra.”

Petra leaned against him more, moving her free hand up and down his arm in gentle rubs. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

“Good,” she heard him whisper. She gave him another peck on the neck, smiling as he shivered. “I’ve lost enough of you today as it is.”

The earlier warmth inside her quickly fled from her at the reminder. The adrenaline and focus of battle had taken her mind away from it. She lay her forehead against the back of his shoulder. Their squad…. they were all gone. Lost to that monster. She thought back to the scene in the forest. “Did… did we…. did we manage to get…?”

“We’re bringing them home.”

Petra nodded against him. “Okay, well that- that’s something.”

xxxxxxxxxxx

By 10pm, everyone was back in HQ, fed, showered and resting. 

The castle hallways were quiet as Petra navigated her way through them, descending each staircase with the silence of a ghost. Ironic, considering her destination. 

The morgue stood at the other end of the hallway from Eren’s “bedroom”. 

Petra glanced in at his cell on her way past and was glad to see the boy sleeping fairly soundly, light snoring softly rumbling from his bed. She stopped and looked in on him, her expression sad. He’s just a boy in all of this. But then, so were many of them. Military training may start at twelve but it didn’t make the reality any easier to accept. We send children as soldiers. How many cadets had they lost in the battle of Trost? She pushed down those thoughts. She’d had enough of battle today. Instead she continued her way to the morgue.

It had once been a small hall for the servants to dine in. Over a dozen wooden tables had been pushed together in small groups. Many of them had a row of bodies draped in sheets over them. At the back of the room, Petra approached the bodies of Eld, Gunther and Oluo. 

She reached out to touch Eld’s cheek as tears began to pour out of her. “Goodnight,” she whispered and leaned down to touch her lips to his forehead. “I hope you’re at peace now.” It was the one consolation that she could convince herself off right now - being free of this “shitty world” as the captain would call it. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.”

Moving onto Gunther, she kissed his head too. “Goodnight. I promise I’ll keep checking on Nifa for you.” She closed her eyes, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back a sob. Thinking back about how much she’d teased Nifa, offering to put a good word in with Levi so Nifa could be in a squad with her boyfriend. Nifa had laughed and called that one of her cousin’s worst ideas. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get there in time.”

Petra’s heart felt a dozen times heavier as she reached Oluo. Brushing back a couple of stray locks from his forehead, she kissed him there. “You knew I cared, didn’t you? You could be a giant pain in the ass but you always had my back. Even when I was arguing with people, you stood up for me even if I was in the wrong.” She bowed her head against his. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

The dam broke after Oluo and, as Petra straightened up, she clasped both hands across her mouth.

When would it all end? Losing people to those monsters. Burying comrades. Having memories of training with them and then living with their absences as the memories grew dimmer and more colourless. When would humanity get to know peace again. Haven’t we suffered enough?

“Hey.” 

Despite the fact that Levi spoke so quietly, his sudden appearance and movement of his arms around her made Petra stumble back into his chest in surprise, her hands on his arms. “I’ve got you,” he murmured against her temple before kissing it. She leaned back into his warmth, face turning into his cheek. He raised a hand to brush away her still streaming tears, alternating between each cheek. “Nothing will ever hurt them again,” he told her. “Their time in this hell is over.”

Petra nodded, sniffling as she tried to muffle the sobs. “I-I-I know.” She snuggled in closer. “You were saying goodbye too?” she asked after a minute or so.

“I was saying thank you.”

[paradisecas]

my mother told me i should go and get some therapy

@midamoulweek day 7: resilience and/or storytelling irdk

Adam arrives at her door ten minutes late, panting but grinning. “Sorry,” he says. “I got Michael to whip something up for us so we didn’t have to meet here but then he made this house which defeats the whole purpose—“ He’s flapping his hands about, a move Kate rarely saw on him when she was alive. “So I had to deal with all that.”

It should be nice to see him so animated, but knowing the source of his excitement dulls the moment for her.

Michael. Once upon a time, he was just an archangel that Kate’s mom made her pray to at Sunday service. He was nothing but a sculpture outside a church or a warrior in a painting or a character in a story.

Now he’s her son’s boyfriend. The boyfriend that got him stuck in hell for a thousand goddamn years.

“Why would he make my house?” Kate asks.

Adam is leaning in the doorway, catching his breath. “It’s familiar to all of us,” he explains. “It’s where he and I hung out the most in—and Ghoul obviously—you know.”

And there’s the other problem.

Kate doesn’t remember dying that well. It was quick for her, in the end. Sure, she remembers being hunted in her own house; remembers the scratching in the walls and the thumping from the vents; remembers something grabbing at her ankle and pulling from under her bed. But after that, it’s pretty much nothingness. For her, being eaten alive was quick and messy. According at Adam, at least; he never saw the crime scene, he says, but he does have a first person account from the thing that ate her. Because he’s dating that thing too.

Ghoul didn’t give Adam the same courtesy of a quick death; his was long and violent, because he was John’s blood and not just a one night stand from almost twenty years before. And yet somehow, somehow, Adam doesn’t hold the hours of screaming and bleeding against him.

Is it her fault? Did she neglect him so much during his childhood that he resorted to latching on to monsters who hurt him? If she spends more time with him now, can she get him to see that he doesn’t need to be with them just because they have some sort of twisted connection?

Does she even have the right to speak against them, now that Adam is older than her by hundreds of years?

Who knows. All Kate knows is that she, for some reason, agreed to meet them. To have dinner with them.

She’s probably going to regret this.

“I got him to make our house. Like, on earth. So you can see what life is like for us!” Adam beams at her, and it’s hard to pretend to match his enthusiasm.

“I’m excited to see your house, baby,” she tells him, only sort of lying.

“Michael and Ghoul are super excited to meet you too.”

“Are they?”

Adam laughs. “Not really. They’re nervous I think. I mean, Ghoul didn’t get to know his dad until recently so he’s pretty sure he’s gonna mess this up, and you know Michael’s dad killed him so. Parents are weird for him.”

Ah, yes. The Ghoul that John killed is also in Heaven. And Michael’s dad is God. Like, The God. Well, not anymore. These days, The God is the devil’s kid. Apparently.

“Well,” she says. “We’ll see how they do.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

Oh, she won’t. Her hopes are all the way in hell at this point.

Because this is Heaven and spatial physics are nothing to literal angels like the one Adam is dating, Adam only has to lead her a few paces down the driveway before she spots a house across the road that wasn’t there before. It’s small, smaller than her house, but it seems—homey, at least.

“We live in Maryland for my school,” Adam says as they cross the road. “Michael actually created this house for us there too ‘cause we wanted something kinda further from town. Ghoul and I had an apartment in Minnesota while Michael was dead but it wasn’t big enough for three people anyway.”

He says it so casually. While Michael was dead. Like it’s normal to come back from the dead.

But after everything he’s told her about his life, maybe it is normal. He’s done it twice, so what does Kate know?

At the door, Adam stops. Turns. Shuffles his feet.

“What is it?” Kate asks immediately. Is he having doubts about dinner? Is he having doubts about his relationship?

“Michael and Ghoul are really important to me,” he starts.

Damn.

“I’m honestly not expecting this to go well at all because neither of them make a good first impression but... maybe keep an open mind?”

“My mind is already wide open, Adam,” Kate deadpans.

“That’s fair.” He huffs a laugh. “Okay, yeah. We should probably—if I take too long Michael will think I’ve run off with Gabriel again.”

Gabriel, also an archangel. Because Adam is friends with other angels, too.

The inside of Adam’s house—or its heaven recreation—is nothing like she’d expect from him. They weren’t minimalists when Kate was alive by any means, but there are a lot of trinkets and paintings and little things scattered about. None of the walls have any clear space, the couch in the living room is little more than a heap of blankets and pillows, and beside a window decorated with hanging bits of stained glass in the shape of a butterfly is whole bookshelf filled with everything except books.  

One shelf is just little angel figurines, which maybe they think is funny? One is just rocks in shapes and colors she’s never seen on earth or in Heaven before which actually checks out with what Adam told her about Michael’s proclivity for showing off the planets he helped create. One shelf has a dozen framed photographs crammed together so tightly that she can’t even see them all, but the ones she can all feature at least one Adam.

On the other side of the window, there’s also a bookshelf being used for its intended purpose and overflowing with books, some small and some massive and very few that Kate recognizes. Those on the top shelf all have thick, weathered spines gilded in gold lettering that maybe isn’t actually lettering. Since she died, Adam’s become quite the linguist; he says he’s fluent in the language of angels now. Which is not something she’d ever expected for him, or anyone really.

It’s the house of a well traveled family, which makes her happy, but then she sees two real-life Adams who are not her son and the happiness fades.

“Hey guys,” Adam says. He stays by Kate’s side instead of joining either of them, for which she’s grateful. “This is my mom. Mom, this is Michael—“ He points to one with a flat sort of frown. “—and Ghoul.” The other one is grinning in a way that perfectly mirrors Adam’s, which Kate does not like.

They’re all wearing different clothes, but Kate immediately forgets who is who. “How do you tell them apart?” she asks, before cringing at the realization that she sounds like she’s talking about two cats that look the same instead of two potentially very dangerous beings.

“Everyone always asks that,” Adam laughs. “I know we have the same face, but I really think we look nothing alike.”

Kate thinks if Adam and—Ghoul?—swapped places enough times she wouldn’t know who was her son and who was the creature. They really are all identical.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Milligan,” the one she thinks is Michael says. “Was the journey okay?”

Kate blinks. It was like, five feet from her front door. Of course the journey was okay.

“It was like, five feet from her front door.” Adam says, exasperated but smiling. “Of course it was okay.”

“I’m just trying to be polite,” Michael grumbles. “You’re the one who told me not to be rude.”

“And I really appreciate it,” Adam says. At that, Michael’s frown melts into a little smile that takes a decade or maybe an eternity off his face; he looks young in a way a primordial being should not.

“You can call me Kate,” she tells him, because she can be polite too. And there’s something not right about an archangel calling her Miss anything.

“Kate,” Michael echoes. He turns the soft smile onto her and she doesn’t know how Adam handles it. There’s too much in his eyes.

Then the other one steps forward. “Great to see you again Kate,” Ghoul says. “Big fan of your work. Sorry about the—“ He mimes grabbing and pulling and biting. “You know how revenge is.”

Actually, she doesn’t, but she might soon.

“If it’s any consolation, your liver was exquisite. Best I’ve ever had; you really took care of your body!”

Adam rolls his eyes fondly—fondly!—and says, “I told you not to bring that up.”

Ghoul shrugs. “Just thought I’d mention the elephant in the room before it got any bigger.”

Kate can’t do much but try to smile back awkwardly. This is weird. Too weird. She almost wants to pinch herself to make sure it’s not some weird fever dream, but what is Heaven if not the biggest fever dream? Anyway, she’s already pinched herself plenty of times since Adam first broached the subject of his love life. It’s all too real.

“Should we eat?” she suggests. The sooner they eat, the sooner she can leave.

As Adam leads them all into the kitchen, Kate catches sight of a—a few bones and a skull? just sitting on a small table at the end of the hallway. They vanish a split second after she sees them, and when she turns her gaze it’s to the sight of Michael averting his.

It turns out that Adam made baked ziti, the one real meal she’d taught him when he was a teenager. It warms her up a little to think of him sharing her recipe with his family.

Except Michael doesn’t take a plate because “angels don’t eat,” which he explains almost sheepishly, and Ghoul has his own bowl of—something. Something that Kate does not want to look at too closely.

So it’s horribly awkward as they eat. Adam compliments his own cooking, because of course he does, and Kate also compliments his cooking, because of course she does. Michael at least comments that it looks good, and Ghoul holds his (full!) mouth open until Adam feeds him a bite.

“It’s fine,” he says, chewing thoughtfully, “but my stuff is better.”

Kate shoves a massive forkful into her mouth to stop herself from asking about what his stuff really is.

Conversation doesn’t really flow either, which is maybe due in part to the fact that Kate never has an empty mouth for more than a few seconds at a time, but what is she supposed to say?


With Kristin, they’d talked about college and careers and school stuff. Little things that Kate could relate to. How can she relate to anything about the lives of two monsters?

There are customs for meeting your kid’s partners, right? The shovel talk, or whatever. She never had to give Kristin the shovel talk because Kristin was kind and funny and like, sixteen years old.

Something in Kate’s gut tells her it’s maybe not a good idea to threaten an archangel and a thing that already killed her, plus the whole ‘hurt him and I’ll hurt you’ thing is a moot point by now, so she avoids that conversation. But she can still ask, “What are your intentions with my son?” so she swallows her mouthful and does just that.

With lightning fast reflexes, Adam reaches out to clamp a hand over Ghoul’s mouth that was just beginning to open.

Kate does not want to know.

“My intentions?” Michael asks, the picture of grave seriousness. “All I want is to love and cherish him as I have done for many centuries now. Your son saved me, Kate, so I will do everything within my abilities to make him happy.”

Cute sentiment, really, and Kate does enjoy the way Adam’s face burns a bright red, but Michael kinda ruined it by bringing up the centuries and the saving. Her baby shouldn’t have to save anyone except in a hospital setting. And he definitely shouldn’t have been alive for centuries. A century, maybe, but that’s it. 
“And how do you plan on doing that?” she asks.

“I will do whatever he asks of me,” Michael answers. “I even let him keep the Ghoul.”

Kate opens her mouth to say something along the lines of, “I don’t think that’s a good thing,” but Adam cuts her off.

“Michael helped with all my paperwork,” he says, wrenching his hand off of Ghoul’s mouth and wiping it on his pants. The motion leaves behind a smear of blood, but his skin is unbroken. Kate tries even harder to avoid eye contact with Ghoul’s bowl. “We were both declared missing and then I missed a decade, so he’s the reason I even got into school again.”

It’s like he can’t even hear himself. “And why were we missing, Adam?” she asks, unable to help it. “Why did you miss a decade?”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably.

“I mean—“ Adam starts, but he doesn’t finish his thought. It’s his turn to take a too-big bite of ziti.

“I assure you, I will spend the rest of my life making up for what I did to him,” Michael says.

“Right.” Kate wipes her mouth. “What about you, Ghoul? You never got to answer my question.”

“My intentions?” Ghoul giggles, strained and high pitched. “Um, same as Michael. Love and cherish him or whatever. Make up for killing him. Rock his—“

“Okay!” Adam interrupts. “See, mom? They feel bad. So. We’re all good here.”

Sure. They feel bad.

“And don’t you think they’re cute?” Adam continues, which.

Yeah, they are cute, but only surface-level cute and only because Adam is cute.

“Wait, I know how to win her over,” Ghoul smirks. “Remember when you were a kid and got her to buy you candy?”

And then he pulls the exact same face—puppy-dog eyes and all. It is incredibly cute, but again, less so with the knowledge that he only knows how to do that because he has Adam’s memories. Which he got from eating him.

But Adam laughs at Ghoul, and even Michael twitches with an amused smile.

“He still makes that face,” Michael tells Kate hesitantly. “As if he needs to beg for anything.”

“No, come on, you can be stubborn!” Adam’s grinning again. “Just the other day I wanted to stop at that diner and you said no!”

“Because you should eat better,” Michael says. He sounds like he’s scolding Adam, and Kate doesn’t know what to think of that. “You’re going to be a doctor, you know. You really should eat a vegetable sometimes.”

“He took us anyway,” Adam whispers, winking at Kate. “I guess the face does come in handy.”

Ghoul chimes in after that with his own rowdy anecdote of a time when they had to beg Michael for something. In this story, it’s taking them back in time to see a certain concert. Apparently, Michael didn’t want to upset Jack—the devil’s son, now God, also his nephew—but still caved.

Kate lets them tell their little stories. The smile doesn’t fall from Adam’s face for the rest of the dinner.

She has to hand it to him; her son knows how to move on. When John first entered their lives and did not act the way a father should, she’d seen it in Adam—the inability to forgive. And as the years went by, she saw that inability grow into resentment and then into something like hate.

The hate is still there, even, especially when he talks about Sam and Dean, John’s other kids that Kate knew nothing about until she was dead.

For human slights, like with John, it seems that Adam has no interest in forgiving. Sam and Dean did more than just skip the holidays with him, she knows that, but even Adam’s hatred for them is something very human. It’s why his relationship still has her so perplexed; he can’t forgive blood, but he can choose these two guys?

But the way he laughs. The way he lights up.

Kate can’t forgive Michael or Ghoul. Most likely, she’ll never get over what they did to her baby.

Adam is stronger than her. She’ll let him have his happiness as long as possible, and when it crumbles—because there’s no way it can’t, like when a kid thinks a feral cat can be his friend but it still ends up swiping at him—she’ll be there to pick up the pieces. Just as she disinfected the scratches and pressed superhero band-aids and kisses over his wounds back then, she’ll keep him safe as he pulls himself back together for what will likely be the hundredth time.

Until then, though—he can play happy.

Once the food is gone and plates are cleared, the three of them seem to just fall into each other. Ghoul leans against Adam who leans against Michael and they’re all a bit hesitant, still, but it’s obvious they’re just going off of muscle memory and Kate can’t stick around and keep watching. She can’t.

“What did you think?” Adam asks as he walks her home.

Instead of answering with words, Kate offers a grimacing little smile that he seems to understand.

“Okay, yeah, I thought so.” The enthusiasm he exuded for a minute there has faded into resignation. “You’ll just have to come see us more,” he says, more confidently. “We can keep the house up.”

“You’re sure these are the guys for you? I’ve met some very nice men and women here and I’m sure there are plenty more who are still alive—“

“Mom.”

“This just isn’t what I wanted for you,” she sighs. “It’s not normal, baby. They hurt you. They killed you. I don’t understand how…”

“They also love me.” His voice softens. “And I love them, and they’re right for me. You’ll get it someday.”

Probably not. Probably, she won’t even try, because someone has to see reason.

“Maybe,” she says, and they both know she’s lying.

Her house is dark. It’s never seemed so empty; Heaven brings life to even the lifeless. But now there’s no Adam making her breakfast in the mid-afternoon morning and all the pictures are a thousand years old for him and—something she’s never considered before—they’re probably weird to him, knowing that it’s only ever him.

They bid each other goodnight, Kate holding on to Adam maybe too tightly and for too long as they hug, and then he’s off into the night, heading back to the monsters she has no way to protect him from. 

Kate has to step into her dark, empty house all alone.

[cero-tia]

I come to you with grave news, my parchment companion--I have had a fearful encounter today, and it brings up ghosts that I fear to look upon. My mind is filled with shadows and I have felt every hair on end since I returned home, as though expecting to find danger around every corner and under every bed. Let me tell to you the events of the afternoon.

I was in the forest, first of all. It is the time of year when the sun hangs low in the sky, and the birds make the trees sing with their calls as they flit about hunting for food. All of the animals are out in great numbers, gorging themselves on the abundance of the summer before the short days of autumn set upon us. I like to go out among them; it can be very peaceful in the late afternoon, when the air is warm and the shadows are growing long as the sun moves south in the sky. Those shadows are more threatening to me now than they have ever been, and I fear them again like I have not feared them in years. It was not only the animals and myself out today, and I am certain that I have seen an outsider.

There has been no one this deep into our forest in years--ten years, although I dread remembering that time. Sometimes I see the evidence of careless hunters who cannot kill with a single shot, but it is only ever in the form of wounded deer or wolves that I put out of their misery, and the closest I come to the hunter is to take their arrows for myself. They are often good quality, though they need to be fletched again after the animal breaks the arrow shaft off in its attempt to save itself. I have no fear of a single arrow in a dying buck, though.

What I fear very much is the realization that, crossing a petite field between the oaks, I could hear no birds. There ought to have been hundreds of them singing praises to the fruits and nuts on which they fatten themselves, but I was shamefully distracted by the trail left by a family of boar and failed to notice the cessation of song. I froze in the golden grasses, sinking as low as I could in them, but my shadow lay long before me and I made an easy target. The silence was terrifying; even a wolf will not trouble the birds so. My heart was as a rabbit in my throat, trying to escape and pounding hard all the while.

Something must have startled a flock at the end of the field, because half a dozen of little song birds took off all at once and made for safety in taller trees, but my gaze immediately went to from whence they had fled, and I saw a movement. Deep in the shadows, obscured by thick branches and a fallen grandfather of a tree, there was a shape that was not animal in nature, though it was close to the ground and shaggy with fur. I saw the faintest shine of gold, as off of a thread or button, and the shape resolved itself in my eye to be that of a man. I knew it at once--the man was kneeling or perhaps crouching low, trying to hide, but once I saw a portion of the shape I could see the whole of it clearly.

And my dear confidant, is it foolish of me to swear that I have seen this man before? My hand shakes as I pen this, but I believe I have seen that gold before. One man in the past had eyes like the setting sun, and today I am certain that I once again laid my own eyes on his, and was seen in turn. There is a hunter in my woods, and he once took something very dear from me, and I fear his presence more than I have ever feared anything.

I will stay close to home for some days now, and hope that the woods will discourage him from seeking to explore further. The trees have a way of turning aside and defeating travelers and interlopers, and I am not ashamed to say that I hope that man breaks his ankles in roots and is eaten by wolves, though it sounds cruel of me to say so. It has been many years since I have so feared observation from anyone but bear cubs and wild red foxes, but once more I feel the presence of a stranger in my home, and try as I might to remain optimistic of his demise by the wild woods, I am not convinced of my safe passage through my own forest anymore.

I hope for the blessing of being able to tell you that there is no more sign of travelers in my trees. For now, anon.

-- A journal entry from the beast in the center of the cursed forest, named Cicero by his father, heir to a forgotten dukedom, called Cero by the nurse who raised him

[202311073]

🎢 My Fantasy About Andre Rieu Before the Next Journey to...

We got out of the bus. I was 16, and my name is Frilly for my beautiful hair.

I’m wearing a short pink dress a to below halfway down my girly thighs. It’s tight of course around the waist and “bust.” It has cute buttons. It has warm stockings for the cold, cold, cold winter.  Hee hee hee!  (I getting used to this…)  I have a pink like bonnet beret, you get the picture, like “Little Miss Muffet.”  I have a cute made up animal backpack with lots of space. I have dress shoes on that are warm and sorta pointy. I have on my gloves. I have my hair smooth with waves at the very end and bangs combed to the side parted on the side some. The material is made by me and thick and strong and soft etc. It’s, like, perfect now!

So, Frilly has eaten well and exercised. Andre Rieu has some real children and some “adopted” ones. Frilly is not the littlest nor youngest etc. She is still gonna grow, but she is younger than Andre Rieu. So, she is 5’6”. I guess Andre Rieu is usually sorta around 6’. That’s tall for an American. There are fat men in California. The skinny girls cling to them, and they tall. Of course, I was just a little girl from Miami playing around in Disney World…

So, it’s still daylight. Frilly was ready and had fun on the bus… tho it’s the night that’s “fun.” “Florida” kinda fun.

She has a hard time wandering around the other people. Andre Rieu is doing his job and overtime with his peoples. Frilly rubs nearby and rotates towards him and says to her “adopted” dad since her dad is deceased, as her mom, who she never knew well… and he sees she is more tired than everyone else and picks her up and talks to her so she can relax and not “talk back” and he helps her to sleep. They arrive at the restaurant and she wakes up in his lap, and she gropes her hand around the toy. She has a hard time sitting so walks around eating. They get back on the bus and she sits alone in the back and Andre Rieu comes by to cuddle her in his lap since she doesn’t know she can’t really sit or else she’ll get tired, now.

They arrive at the “performing arts center” in East Germany.

Frilly is working with the young men. She gets treats and eats her meal and stuff. When she is done, she wanders around. She gets to sit with some of the gentlemen and boys in different tech…

When it is all over, they eat at a nice quaint place. They get back on a transportation and head for a nice big hotel.

Frilly has a great time in the shuttle with TV in it.

They get back and she wanders around and buys candy and hangs out and uses the gym!

They go back to the hotel rooms and shower and next day is another travel.

The next night at the hotel they get back a little earlier. They fall asleep watching movies. Frilly usually plays undercovers partly. She has pajamas on she loves a lot and great kinda full covering slippers. Her favorite TV shows that come on in the same places at the same time like at 3 AM were the cartoon of the cross eyed bunny and  a documentary about Audrey Hepburn (Dutch) and a lot about her in “My Fair Lady,” 1 year younger than her Gramma. So, this time, she gets to stay with Andre Rieu and he’s not alone today, with a few other people of different types and ages. She is up playing a game with some kids mostly. She is looking forward to waking up early as always using the gym an hour and the pool an hour. They have a surprise for Andre Rieu since he’s in charge and so cute and sweet. They bring in a cake and presents and have a party. They take a video and pictures and wind down and put on a favorite program. Some are on their devices or online. Next day is great. At the end of this one, Frilly goes to a children’s museum and buys food and some souvenirs, like a T-shirt, a keychain, and more. She goes crazy and at some point gets to see the “adopted” of some dad, who has his real children, and she’s not the youngest nor littlest there. She runs into him and bounces up and hugs him and she squeals when he lifts her up and carries her around and talks some around and other people come and they all have fun!... and life has lots of things and great media.

[creaturecompanionsofficial]

The Flowerhorn

we'll discuss one of the most famous aquarium fish from one side of the planet to the other - The Flowerhorn! It effectively gets seen because of its extreme body shape, astonishing colouration, and above all the notable lump head or the Horn/kok. What's more, it's undeniable to go gaga for this astonishing fish and want to claim one. Thus, I will present you the total species profile of the Flowerhorn in this article, which will assist you with getting to find out about this fish.

About Flowerhorn

Flowerhorns have a place with the cichlid bunch and are unadulterated man-made crossovers. They were first reared in Malaysia and Thailand and as per a few sources, were gotten by cross reproducing between Red villain, the Trimac cichlids, and the half and half Parrots.

They initially entered the market during the last part of the 1990s and before long got famous because of their eye-getting body shape and the conviction of money related gains whenever kept at home. Before long specialists and, surprisingly, average citizens began having one and afterward they were sent out to different nations also. Thus, presently they are effectively accessible and one of the most preferred aquarium fish among specialists.

General Profile: Care Level: Middle of the road Size: 10-16 inches Personality: Forceful Diet: Omnivore Min. tank size: 75 gallons/285 liter Tank arrangement: Freshwater; Semi-planted; Uncovered lined, or Fine sand Similarity: Extremely restricted. Ought to be kept alone. Life range: 8-12+ years Tank Arrangement

Flowerhorns develop large (10-16 in.) and subsequently, it is prescribed to have a base 75-gallon glass tank to keep them blissful. Go for a square tank or a tank that is taller.

Flowerhorns, similar to their predecessors, love to dig the substrate (like the cichlids) and evacuate plants (like the blood parrots), and in this way enriching the tank turns into somewhat muddled. An exposed lined tank is awesome; while in the event that utilizing substrate, utilization of delicate fine sand is recommended. Plants will be evacuated and eaten up, so the tank ought to contain a few phony plants and bunches of enormous measured stones or embellishments and some driftwood as well. Flowerhorns like low to direct water stream thus canister channels can be utilized.

Water Boundaries Water boundaries should be practically awesome to keep your Flowerhorn solid. The suggested temperature is around 26-32 degrees celsius with a pH of 6.5-7. Keeping these boundaries right and steady is significant, to keep the Flowerhorn solid.

Standard water changes consistently will definitely assist with keeping off the poisonous substances. Additionally, ensure you dispose of any garbage and uneaten food left in the tank.

General Consideration Flowerhorns are great at adjusting and getting great invulnerability against normal infections. In any case, in the event that you wish to raise a solid and cheerful Flowerhorn, standard water changes, great water boundaries, and ideal eating regimen is the key! They are not so powerless to normal sicknesses like white spots or blade decay; still you should consistently check for any early indications of disease. Flowerhorns effectively get actual harm. Being forceful and regional, they will frequently find the tank glass hard, battle with stones and driftwood, uncover rock, and even leap out. These wounds can be tried not to by ensure tank improvements are protected (that is without sharp edges), tank isn't oftentimes upset, and there is a safe top for the tank.

They may likewise get a few contaminations, which can be relieved whenever distinguished early and treated with the right synthetic compounds/meds.

Similarity Like cichlids, Flowerhorns also have an extremely restricted similarity. Flowerhorns are known for their profoundly forceful and regional way of behaving with any living animal in their tank. This makes Flowerhorn the most un-viable with any local area tank.

In any case, we have a few options like large measured pleco, panther pleco, and puma cichlids, which will do perfect in a Flowerhorn tank as they lean toward being close to the surface and have very tame way of behaving. Likewise, Oscars and Swamp cichlids might be a decent decision however you can't foresee the specific result. Additionally more the fish, the greater the tank you will require.

Diet Fortunately, these outlandish species are not particular eaters and will eat what they are given. In any case, there's a trick - you might want to take care of them just high nourishment flowerhorn food, which gives an adequate number of supplements that their body requests. Furthermore, subsequently, purchasing great quality food is an unquestionable necessity or, more than likely they may just become powerless, the kok will decrease in size, and may try and turn out to be effectively defenseless to sicknesses.

Closing - Would it be a good idea for you to Get a Flowerhorn Fish? Presently summarizing, you could go through a portion of the parts of keeping this mystical cichlid. Flowerhorns, most importantly, are extraordinary fish and make the focal point of any space they are kept in and consequently it's a great decision for a café, gathering, or even your front room. They are not really sensitive and it is uncommon to become sick. Also, even fledglings who are prepared to assume the liability can go for possessing their own special Flowerhorn.

In any case, with that comes the requirement for a greater financial plan sum for tank arrangement and getting a decent quality Flowerhorn. Extra costs like flowerhorn food and meds accumulate into it. You will require a greater tank and should invest a lot of energy keeping up with it. In any case, it's simple for somebody who is truly keen on possessing a Flowerhorn and keeping this brilliant pet solid and blissful.