#AH MAN THAT REMINDS ME SO I'LL RAMBLE HERE NOW

[dourpeep]

WAAH okay I just finished the first ep of season 4 for bsd and I just OTL

I remembered something from the light novel that season 4 is opening with (book 3, The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency), so don't peek if you don't want to be spoiled for those who either haven't read and want to, or want to wait for the anime to release more episodes

BUT MAN I'm so sad remembering this, but seeing it happen and reading is just???? It hits different but in a good way (or as good as angst can get lmao)

but just seeing 14 yr old Ranpo versus 26 yr old Ranpo and realizing that he really hasn't changed-

He knew, when he was 14, that people didn't see what he saw and understood that his 'ability' was something that was unique to him due to his upbringing and parents (both brilliant people--his father specifically being an incredibly well-known detective- so really, it makes you wonder if this influenced his bragging but that's something for another time), but kept himself under the guise that people understood because...

If adults can't see what he can see, then how are they supposed to help him out when he's still a child? A child can't do everything themselves, so the idea that no one would be able to help him just makes his parent's death that much worse

And despite Fukuzawa not really knowing this straight out, it's interesting to see how he handles it

Not sure how to comfort a child whose essentially jaded with a lack of trust towards others and a continually decreasing will because he just keeps on getting beaten down? Oh easy, just tell him that the thing that's been giving him indirect woe is a skill. He only is being affected by his own brilliance because it's something that can't be helped. Give him a reason to be proud of it instead!

Uh but I'm getting carried away.

Anyway-- then we see 26 yr old Ranpo now who, really, has known the entire time that his 'skill' isn't a skill, but instead accepted Fukuzawa's attempt at comfort those 12 years ago because now it's more the idea that...if it isn't a skill, then what is he useful for? Within a group of people so talented--not just due to their individual skill, but their combat abilities and all that--why is he so special that he is a part of them? And why would he be so deserving of everyone's praise if he's just...normal?

Long story short, I just mainly remembered Ranpo's deep insecurity that's rooted in his view of his own competence and the effect of the loss of his parents at an early age and I just wanna grab his cheeks and stretch

ALSO ALSO in season 4's first ep when he's trying to nab a bite of the actress' sweets and she eats it instead that was soiefhoih what a brat

#peep peep #I got carried away as per usual but anyway it's always Ranpo hours-- he lives in my brain (and sitting on a tiny chair on my desk) rentfree #OTL I should re-read book 3 just for the sake of it #AH MAN THAT REMINDS ME SO I'LL RAMBLE HERE NOW #but I highly suggest you read the light novels for bsd if you like the series!! #it's Asagiri's first time writting in a novel form iirc and it's quite nice to see the development of voice and style as well as going from #something that's more directive to more descriptive instead!! #You can really see the effort that was put into them considering the base idea is that manga tends to entirely dialog heavy #so seeing how Asagiri went about it as well and his notes at the end of the novels is cool!! #Especially considering the development of a voice is so drastic between the first and third books if you were to compare! #Ahhhh alright alright that's all- just wanted to touch on this because it's something that I've been very inspired by nodnodnod #bsd #bungo stray dogs #edogawa ranpo

[mephicchi]

((Drow have become a particular favourite of mine in the last 2 years or so. My fondness for elves oddly enough comes from a game about dwarves that is very anti-elf propaganda especially in the fandom. Tieflings are very fun! I'm one of those heathens who entertain the idea of taking a lot of creative liberties with their visual design. After all, what is the point of playing the ttrpg imagination game if you've no imagination eh.

I shall let that comment slide… for now… but watch out!))

Dearest Barkeep,

You're a fun one, I'll give you that. You wish to discourage my intrusions, and yet also wish me luck in not being caught. What's the matter, old man? Are you so bored buried under all this paperwork that the only thing that entertains you is a break-in? I'd hate to disappoint you, so I'll look forward to receiving word from you once you've discovered where I've hidden this note. Can't make it too easy on you, but I doubt it will prove much of a challenge for a knight such as yourself to find.

And the questions? My dear barkeep, it would be too dead a giveaway if I were to answer honestly. But I'll ponder the idea of leaving you a clue. As for dishonest answers, I'll listen to whatever you listen to, perhaps I'll even sit outside the door and lend an ear to the next bard you fancy to spend your gil on. I just love white. Pristine pure white. All this snow everywhere as far as the godsdamned eye can see. I don't know how you can stand this view. There's nothing to see. No wonder you're bored. Coeurls are lithe and sneaky. And cute. Like me, no? Hmm. No, on second thought they'd be terrible at stalking your halls unnoticed. A lovely little cherry tree could liven the space up in here, alas it would probably die by how dark you keep the space. Pity. I only drink pure spring water. Hydration… love it.

Feel free to ask more if you feel so curiously inclined, although I cannot guarantee you'll receive the truth in turn. Unfortunately I must be off now, I believe I just heard your front door. Returning from the Humming Grove cafe I expect.

Adieu.

// Your description of a game about dwarves that's very anti-elf reminds me of Dwarf Fortress, I haven't played the game myself but I've seen some stuff on it, then again, Dwarves hate on Elves in most pieces of media, so it could be any game. I too love taking lots of liberties with the design of my Tiefling characters, it's one of the reasons I like them so much, the "official" limitations that WotC put on Tiefling skintones and the kind are naught but a long forgotten "suggestion" to me, I played through Curse of Strahd as a snow white Tiefling with sun-like yellow eyes, he was a Life Cleric, I know it sounds pretty basic and way too overboard with the holy theme but it was immensely fun. (Thinking back on it I could've taken so many more liberties, like horns that form a sort of halo, or take the Tiefling variant that has wings and make them feathery angelic wings, at that point I could've just played an Aasimar though, but ah, perhaps it would have been too much, although maybe there could have been a subplot about the citizens of Barovia seeing my character as a sort of angel having come to save them, sounds too main charactery though and I wouldn't have liked to take attention away from my fellow players)

Ehm, I rambled a bit there, but to conclude the ooc part of this, dear anon, please tell me about your favorite DnD character, no matter if it was yours or one belonging to someone you played with! (If it doesn't give too much away, of course) // A good day to you, my ever so secretive patron.

I will say, when I didn't find a letter of yours in my paperwork today I was a little disappointed, yet when I was getting ready to leave my office to attend a meeting with my Count I got stung by a thorn of the rose you placed in my Uniforms pockets, for a second I thought it was poisoned and I was victim to an assassination attempt, but when I found your letter in the selfsame pocket my suspicions were proven false, or were they?

Your confusion on the topic of your intrusions is justified, but the explanation for it is quite simple, I do not mind your trespassing in the slightest, I quite appreciate this exchange of letters, but what kind of Knight-Captain would I be if I didn't take precautions after there has been a break-in to my office? Many knights of similar positions in other houses of Ishgard keep their office under constant watch, I am already a lot more forgiving than them by only having my knights check my office if they pass by it during their patrols, though that is quite frequent.

Your answers are intriguing for sure, though I shall not tell you which parts exactly, I shall keep my suspicions about your identity to myself until I have actual proof, therefore I cannot let the opportunity to ask more questions pass, even if they may be answered with little truth.

So tell me, do you fancy any particular book, or perhaps even a series of books, I noticed that someone browsed through my collection recently, it must have been you. Are you perhaps a combatant of any kind, and if you are, please do tell me what your preferred weapon is. And lastly, I do not expect a clear answer to this, since it would be boring, why are you so inclined to stay anonymous, you put quite a lot of effort into not revealing your identity, even when you have supposedly visited my tavern already, or have you? Perhaps we shall see each other in my tavern tonight, but I wouldn't know, would I? Signed, Mephiston Godefroy

#this is very fun #perhaps I am a little self indulgent by enjoying this so much #<3 #Mephiston #Personal stuff

[ghoulbread]

25 for your oc verse!

25. best scene you havent yet written, but have an idea for?

context i guess?? seth goes to a seer to ask about his family. a seer (fortune teller thats actually legit, though they are quite vague and sometimes misleading) tells seth that he can find his family in a church down the street, he hasnt seen his family in YEARS, and he KNOWS his bio family is dead, so whats the seer up to?

(under the cut cuz it got long sorry)

seth (element of darkness) goes into a church building. the walls are wooden, with a red-purple carpet adorning the floor. seth is slowly but surely stepping towards where an altar would be, but instead theres a curtain covering the stage (idk what its called... yknow how in a church you go up some stairs and theres the altar and everything??? idk) the curtains a pale purplish blue. he grips the curtains, and tears them back, revealing a man writing something at a desk. the man looks up, and his eyes widens at seth. seth immediately summons shadows around him, getting into defensive.

the man stares at him, before raising his hand in greeting. "hello, are you alright?" seth makes the shadows recede, not realizing he had gone defensive. "im f-fine. i was, uh, told by a seer that my... family, uhm, would be here? who are you? you... are, uhm... well, uh, not who im trying to find." the man chuckles, eyes softening in understanding.

"my name is timothy. this church is now my home, as it was abandoned many years ago. and a seer, you say? you are aware that they mislead you, if they so desire?" timothy, a man in his middle ages with grey in his otherwise thick brown hair, plays with a clock hes working on. seth places his hand together, looking pensive.

"ah...then, uhm... i've been f-fooled? thats... i spent a few coins for that..." timothy looks at him. "how old are you, young man?" "i'll be turning, uhm, 21 in the fall, sir." timothy nods. "you remind me of my daughter. though... she's been missing... for quite a while now. she was quiet, and quite polite... i miss her, but i have not a clue where to start looking."

seth stared at him, memories of a fuzzy childhood coming to the forefront. "your...uhm, daughter? what...what was her name?" timothy paused his fiddling, face scrunching up. "sabrina... she disappeared when she was... oh, god, when she was 13. she... i should've been a better father. it's been 8 years and i never looked for her. i should have. i could have. i had all the time in the world, but..."

timothy paused his monolouge, noticing the pale face on seth. "oh! i apologize, you probably do not want to hear an old man ramble about missing children. you said you were trying to find your family?"

"sabrina. sabrina umbrud?" seth shakily asked, taking a step forward. "how... how did you know her last name? not just her last name, but mine as well. who are you?!" timothy reached for a screwdriver, eyes trained on seth's face.

"because, uh... i... i am... well, wow, this is..." seth fumbled over his words, looking around like the words would physically appear if he did. after a moment, seth blurted out, "do you know what transgender means?"

timothy looked bewildered, before his face morphed into understanding. "oh. is... are you implying what i think you are?"

seth nods quickly, shame creeping into his face. "i- yeah, i mean i- y'know, the hormones kind of changed my face, and i totally forgot about you, which, y'know, i REALLY shouldn't forget my own adoptive father, and-"

a hug interrupted him.

"i'm not sure i believe this, fully. but if this is real, and you are to be my... son. then... i'm sorry, i never looked for you. i... are you still- what should i call you?"

"seth. hi."

"seth... it's a nice name. i guess that seer was correct, after all."

-

ermm. i have no idea how to write characters. or if thats like, organic??? also this kinda turned into an actual story, oops

#asks #i WAS gonna name this ocverse ''elemental'' but uh. d/sney already took that... so... yknow. #now i need a new name. but. ill come up with something!! #transgender win. seth was always gonna be trans btw. even 9 year old me was like hmm. this man isnt cis #sorry it took so long the demons called Inspiration and Motivation got ahold of me

[twogyuu]

Oh my gosh, 9 hours?! I thought my licensing exams were rough at 4– I hope your board exam went well! Sometimes resting before a big test is actually the best because your mind is more refreshed.

Have the BEST time seeing Seventeen! I’m so excited for you!! I went to the Oakland show last weekend and it was AMAZING! Dare I say, even better than Ode to You? (because we were fortunate and had ot13– especially seeing Coups be able to interact with fans and just seem so happy to be there this time— even if he did have a stomachache, his eyes screamed joy and love for fans showing up and filling every level of the massive venue!) Level 1 is always where I get seats for shows because I’m on the shorter side of average height as well so it’s just easier to be able to see that way 😅

My one big recommendation is to not film to much on your phone, you’ll walk out remembering less that way. I try to stick to recording all the ments, but I get too tempted by my favorite songs not to film them and then don’t recall as much of the experience 🙃— but like how could I not record the HHU stages? 🤩 Here’s hoping Mingyu is back for your show because good Lord that man will destroy you in person with his visuals! And Jeonghan is just breathtakingly beautiful… but yeah, your girl had straight tunnel vision for Wonwoo since he was on my side of the stage most of the show 😍😍😍

Ah! Do share your experience when you get back!! (Okay, I’ll stop rambling now… but also I’ll pop in occasionally to remind you that Alcohol Free is waiting lol)

-wisteria-woo

Hello hello!!!!

AGGGHHH IM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY! I'm on my way back home from the Fort Worth show yesterday!!!

Thank you for the well-wishes on my boards! I really hope I pass 😖 Partially because I don't want to have to do them again, partially because it kind of determines my fate for next year too 😭

Onto more fun things!! THANK YOU SOSOSOSO MUCH FOR THE CONCERT TIPS! I tried my best not to record but couldn't resist for some sets (I'm looking at you RWY 😭)! Unfortunately, Mingyu was unable to make it still because he was still in quarantine 😓 That said, it made it a very dangerous place for me because my eyes were WANDERING 😵‍💫 Surprisingly, maknae line out of all members caught my attention most 😳 Seungkwan was all over the place and so full of energy! Maybe it's because he was on my side more frequently lol, but his fan interactions were the cutest!!! He also challenged Chan to a dance battle and might I say, he kicked his way into my heart 😳🥲 Chan was so full of energy and happy to be back! It was so nice to see so much support for him because from what I've gathered his fan base is smaller (?) Vernon also!! WHAT A MAN 😭 He has such good groove when he dances and his stage presence is like ? Idk how to explain it lol, chill, but also not? LOLOL

TL;DR: My whole bias line is a mess and in the works rn 😂 Who knows? My whole layout might change to be a Seungkwan stan in the next few days 😶

In regards to the whole concert!!! Interestingly, I remembered vocal unit's stage best??? Maybe it's because I didn't record it like you said (recorded HHU and PU's lol). Legit, I cried so hard during Our Dawn Is Hotter Than Our Day, it was embarrassing 😅 It's my sad gorl song and this year I particular has been a year of growth and learning, but painful nonetheless. It's also nearing the end of summer here, and I was just so happy and relieved(?) I did something big and expensive for my own happiness (no other deep reason) for once 🥲

ANYWAYYYYSSSSS this is so long! I'm so sorry LOLOLOLOL.

I'll try to get back to writing ASAP! This trip really threw me a curveball with writing and haven't gotten as much done as I needed to 😵‍💫, so the reminders will be appreciated 😂

P.S.!!! The concensus seems to be Wonwoo other than Jeonghan 😂 I'm trying to figure out a muse for an apocalypse fic!!! I've had about 5 dreams now where I run into Cheol at the end of the world - figured it was a sign 🤔😂

#as always #i love hearing from you and hope you're doing well!!! #wisteria woo #🥰🥰🥰 #💙💙💙

[miloslushie]

cw: attempted assault, violence, excessive cursing

send me an ask or a dm if you wanna be tagged for this series! next person up is jeno ;)

taglist: @sangiedarling

"Hm? Ah, hello mom!" He sees his target and smiles, quietly tailing him. He shoots smiles at people who bump into him and continues talking on the phone, weaving through the crowd. "Ah... It's so nice to hear from you! how's dad?" He hears his mother, but he wasn't really focusing on what she was saying. Instead, he was observing the man drunkenly stumbling into a crowd of people. The man kept looking behind him, an indescribable sort of fear on his face. Jaemin's smile grew wide.

He hides by leaning on a lamppost, listening to his mother ramble about some meaningless event as the man makes a fool of himself. The man had grabbed some poor soul on the shoulders and started yelling some bullshit. If anyone paid attention, they'd realize he was asking for help. He lets him have his fun for a while, and tunes back in on the conversation he was having with his mother.

"Me? hm, I'm not doing much. I'm just training, and hanging around my friends.. yeah, I'm taking care of myself, of course." His eyes narrowed at the man, watching as he fell to the floor and grabbed a girl's legs, screaming obscenities and cries for help. Jaemin's smile grew wider. "In fact, I'm having the most fun I've ever had... really, I'm not kidding!"

His mother makes a jab at him and he laughs. He's reminded of his baby telling him his laugh sounded villainous on that sunny day they went out for coffee.

"villainous? Are you saying I'm a bad guy, (Y/N)?" He remembers teasing them and watching the eye roll they gave him. So pretty. "You know what I mean, Nana."

He snaps himself back to reality when he hears one of the people scream as the man claws at the girl's pants, intending to drag her down to the ground. Showtime.

"I'll call you back, okay mom? I love you!" He hangs up and advances towards the man and his victim, making his smile fade into a thin line. No one should know the glee he feels as he takes a swing at the man, disorienting him. Though, he can't help the small smile as he sees the man recognize him and yell even louder, pointing at Jaemin as if he was the devil.

He's right, but they don't know that.

He fakes a look of concern and turns towards the shaken girl, asking if she was okay. After receiving a shaky nod from her he turns towards the man once more, this time with a look of fake frustration and barely contained mirth. He hoists him up by the back of his collar, sneering at him. "Thank god I came here in time.. I've actually been trying to track him down since he stole my wallet." Jaemin produces the fake wallet he planted on the man and shows it to the crowd of people gathering around them. "The police are looking for him, actually. So I'll go and send him to the station now. Sorry for the inconvenience!"

Before anyone could respond or even offer help, Jaemin had dragged the man away, walking with haste away from the crowd. As he watches the crowd of people disperses and fade out of view, Jaemin's smile fell from his face completely. The curve of his mouth corroded into a line as he gripped the collar so tight his hand became red.

"You're a lucky duck, Ahjussi. Aren't 'cha?" The man let out a yelp of fear when Jaemin moves to grab his hair instead, pulling it back. "Jen just had to let you go out and play, and I had to fetch you. No matter-" Jaemin leads them into an empty street, where a banged-up car laid. It was the man's car, and he knew it, by the look of familiarity crossing his face.

"That was your last connection to the human world, I don't have to worry." He slams the man against the car, pinning him by his head to the side of it. He brings himself closer to the man and whispers slow and dangerous. "Now, a location has been input on the GPS of your car, all you have to do is drive and the car will guide you to the spot."

The man stays silent, and Jaemin tsks, banging him against the side of the car with barely contained fury. "Are you listening?"

"Yes, yes.. Yes, please." The man sobs and Jaemin continues. "Don't cry now, Ahjussi... You had this coming, you deserved this.. You, and people like you, will be brought to that spot, every time any of you even think about doing what you did.. Tell me, what did you do?"

The man continues sobbing, almost keeling over with the force of the tears pouring from his eyes. Jaemin sees red and bangs his head on the roof of the car, gritting his teeth. "What did you do, you pitiful fuck?"

"I touched what's yours! P-Please, I touched them! I touched (Y/N)(L/N)!" Jaemin bangs his head even harder onto the roof, rage almost overtaking him. He lifts the man's head up once more, and takes a deep breath. It's Jisung's turn, not mine. "Damn fucking right you did, now you will atone."

He opens the car door and shoves the man in the driver's seat, observing as he hastily turns the ignition key. The car reves to life and drives off, almost bumping into every car on the road. Jaemin smirks as he watches it drive away, turning to walk in the other direction. He blends into the crowd as he takes out his phone to text the group chat he had pinned to the top of his WeChat.

Na Jae Min: Done. Get ready, sungie.

Park Ji Sung: kk

Lee Min Hyung: Good job jaem, (Y/N) would be so proud

Jaemin lets a cheeky smile slip as he advances towards the train station steps, descending down to the underground. He almost bursts into laughter thinking about his baby's look of glee at the death of that fucker.

Yes, they'd be so happy.

#yandere kpop #kpop yandere #nct yandere #yandere nct #yandere #yandere nct dream #yandere na jaemin

[valberryy]

efficacy. — zhongli

hi!! this started out as an oc fic, but i thought i'd convert it to a reader insert!! i tried to change some of the more "explicit" oc info, so hopefully it's fine now!

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injury/death, contemplations of/vaguely attempted murder, slight swearing. if these topics are sensitive to you, i'd recommend clicking away.

i. 

[Name]'s life would be nothing without order. They found a certain comfort in routines—working at the bookshop with Jifang in the afternoons, working for their less-than-legal clients once night fell. There was an odd kind of safety they found in it, in completed contracts and crossed-out bounties on a board: as they wiped the blood off their blade at sunrise, they found themself glad they no longer lived at the whims of ice, and snow, and migrating deer.

Tonight was odd, though. 

A dagger twirled deftly between their fingers, and [Name] raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the informant sitting before them. A mask and hood alike obscured his face, and he seemed almost to hesitate slightly beneath their burning gaze—a newbie, then, or a fool.

"So?" they asked, their voice like a whip-crack in the silence. "Don't waste my time."

"Apologies," he said, and [Name] had to resist the urge to scoff. At another raised eyebrow the informant dug through his things and passed them an envelope. 

Gingerly, they tore it open. "...Wangsheng?" they muttered to themself, before glancing back up. "I trust you have the right compensation?"

A stiff, "Of course," was their only response. 

The knife between [Name]'s fingers stilled, before it became embedded in the cheap wood next to their now-client's head.

They stood, gave an almost-mocking flourish of a bow, and walked off without another word.

ii. 

[Name] did not glance up from the shelf they were restocking when the footsteps of another customer coming up the stairs came into earshot, only saying a gruff, "Welcome," as they grew closer.

Their only response was a content hum, and they resisted the urge to sigh in relief that this particular patron wasn't a chatterbox. 

The minutes trickled by in comfortable silence, as the man—for he was a man, [Name] learned, as soon as they looked up and towards his direction—browsed through their selection. The only sounds to be heard were the blowing of the breeze and the idle chatter of people walking past.

"What a fine collection you have," he said, and turned to face the counter they were seated behind. At the sight of his face they were thrust back into two nights ago—an unpleasant evening in a dingy old house, an envelope in one hand and a cheap knife in the other. 

Not now, they thought to themself. Not now, when the blood can seep into the floorboards. The smell will hang for days.

"Thank you," they elected to say in reply. "...Will you be buying?"

He nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Indeed. The entire stock, actually."

[Name] faltered. "The entire…?" They coughed into a fist, regaining their composure and leaning forward on the counter. "That's going to cost you, sir."

They could almost see the excited sparkles around him as he opened his mouth to speak again, and whatever thoughts they had on how elegant and refined he seemed were thrown out to sea.

"Yes, of course," he began, "there truly is no treasure greater than knowledge, after all—there is a subtle nuance to the art to capturing a moment in time so vividly using just words alone…" 

As he continued to ramble, [Name] rested their chin on their palm. The daggers concealed beneath their clothes were cool and heavy on their skin—a constant reminder, a subtle threat. 

When his voice trailed off they gave a small, polite smile, standing upright again. "If you have the Mora, there should be nothing stopping you, sir."

The faraway, almost dreamy look in his eyes grew lucid at the mention of Mora. "Ah, of course. Mora," he said, and started patting his pockets searching for his wallet.

When neither of them heard the telltale clinking of coins, they glanced at each other almost exasperatedly. 

"My deepest apologies—"

"...No, it's okay—"

The knife still burned against their skin, but they brushed it aside for a moment to grab an unwrapped copy of a book under the desk. They held it out to him, their face blank but the faintest, faintest hints of amusement dancing in their eyes.

He was…interesting. Dead men can rarely boast as much.

 "Take it," they said, simply. 

His eyes seemed to widen in pleasant surprise. "Are you certain?" he asked, and at [Name]'s casual shrug in the affirmative he gingerly took it from their hands. 

"Thank you kindly," he said, raising the package in the air and inspecting it. "I'll have to repay you, for this."

They looked at him again, and thought of the envelope from the other night, thought of how they could almost feel his pulse as their fingers brushed just seconds prior.

"I'll hold you to it, then, sir," they elected to say.

Not now, not now, not now.

iii.

On his lips played a gentle smile that [Name] couldn't help but to distrust. 

"There's a restaurant I believe you'd like," he had said. "Allow me to treat you for lunch, as thanks."

Their head had thus begun to swim with backup plans and what-ifs. Did he know? Was this some elaborate ruse to poison them? Surely not, right? They had been so careful up until now, too…

They blinked away their initial surprise and canted their head to the side. "Where?"

At that he went off onto another tangent, just as long as the ramble he had gone on a few days prior. [Name] found themself zoning out, glancing at where they knew his jugular was beneath his collar—or perhaps poison during their impromptu outing would fare better?

No, they scolded themself, there would be witnesses at a restaurant.

"...Don't worry, of course, I'll be sure to bring the Mora this time around," he said with a velvety laugh, and [Name] suddenly found themself back in the present.

They leaned forward on the bookstore counter, an eyebrow raised. "I don't even know your name, Mister Philanthropist." 

Another smile graced his features, then—apologetic this time, and he outstretched a hand for them to shake. "My apologies," he said. "I am Zhongli, consultant for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."

Gingerly, they took his hand in turn. They could feel the rhythmic beat-beat-beat of his pulse under their fingers.

Soon, they thought. 

"Call me [Name]," they said, and forced themself to smile.

A few days later, it just so happened that both of their schedules were free. 

"Would you still be willing to indulge me?" Zhongli asked—he had been visiting more often lately, and it just so happened that many of his visits happened to be on the days [Name] was there, as well. Jifang seemed curious, and honestly they were as well—did he enjoy their company? Was there something about their short, curt responses that didn't turn him away?

Or maybe he was planning something, too?

Nevertheless, despite their raging paranoia, it wasn't like they were in much of a position to complain. Jifang seemed content at their new, distinguished guest, and [Name] took it as an opportunity to learn more about him for the time being. 

"...If you so wish," they said, plucking the book he was holding out of his hands to wrap it for him. 

"Only if you do, my friend." Damn him and his deflection. "But it is my firm belief that the generous receive what is due to them, in time."

They hummed idly as they thumbed through the book he had chosen—something or other about the natural beauty of Inazuma—and then glanced back up at him.

And that was how they found themself here, they supposed.

Their table was relatively silent compared to some others, but it was by no means uncomfortable or awkward. With the idle chatter of other people and the clear sky above as a backdrop, the two dined in comforting silence—only the clinking of ceramic against each other to be heard, and to [Name]'s surprise, no traces of poison to be found whatsoever.

As the sun began to dip down the horizon, and all their food had been finished and the bill paid, the two found themselves taking a stroll down by the docks. Zhongli's gaze was trained ahead, while [Name]'s flitted about cautiously.

"Forgive me if I'm prying, however…" he began, "...But you're not a native, are you, my friend?"

A jolt, then, a bolt of white-hot fear running through their limbs. Did he know? Did they give themself away? 

"I'm not," they said. "I was born abroad." 

A satisfied hum was their response, and when they turned to glance at him, they found the smallest of smiles on his face.

"It's getting late," Zhongli said. "Thank you for today. I'd like to do this again, with you."

[Name] took pause at that. They thought once again of the envelope hidden under their drawers, and the knives hidden under their clothes.

They thought about the way Zhongli rambled on about whatever tale it was the storyteller across the street had spun—how "that indeed is one interpretation of it, but in the original text, the author actually meant to imply that…" 

There was a pang of what almost felt like guilt in their chest, at that. 

"...And I, you," they said, finally, "...my friend."

iv.

Perhaps stumbling into your supposed assassination target's home half-bloody with an arrow sticking out of your side was not the brightest idea, but in [Name]'s defense were two things: first of all, they had no fucking clue it was Zhongli's in the first place, and secondly, they couldn't exactly keep running from their angry former client with an arrow sticking out of their side.

And thus whatever levels of discretion they normally would have had were thrown out the window as they climbed into Zhongli's in the dead of night, and probably knocked something over in the process (if the new bruises were anything to go by). 

(To be fair, they had been calling each other friends for a while now. Is this what friends did? [Name] couldn't be sure—their shady friends weren't exactly the best examples, after all.)

They had just sat up and groaned in pain when Zhongli came in, alarmed first at the noise and then at their sorry state. 

"...Sorry," they muttered through gritted teeth. "Thought the place was empty—ow, shit! I can—I can do it mysel—"

"Nonsense," he said, his voice and hands firmer than they had noticed before. "...I still haven't repaid you for your favour to me, after all."

They stopped for a moment, at that. "...I thought the lunch was repayment?"

Somehow, Zhongli found it in himself to laugh, albeit tensely. From where they were sitting, they could see his face a lot more clearly than they had before—the tenseness in his brow, the flecks of gold in his amber irises, the way his nose crinkled at the density of the smell of blood.

"No," he replied, "that was a thank you."

They hummed, before hissing in pain again. "Pull the other way; the arrowhead went in at an angle—"

"Ah, yes, my mistake…"

[Name] continued, "I suppose this is your repayment, then?"

They only barely hid their surprise when he shook his head again. 

"I'm doing this because I want to, [Name]."

(Somehow, they liked their name better when hearing it from him. Was it the timbre of his voice? Was it the appeal of hearing your name from a man who was supposed to be long-dead?)

"...I see."

As he sealed the last of the bandages and allowed them to adjust their clothes, he helped them over to what they assumed was a guest room, of sorts. He helped them to take a seat on shaky legs, and placed a firm, almost comforting hand on their shoulder.

"Promise me you'll be more careful, my friend."

They glanced away, their face oddly warm. Wasn't blood loss supposed to do the opposite? "I can't guarantee that, Zhongli."

He followed their gaze over to the floor, and then glanced back at them. "If not that, then I'd at least ask you to…rely on me more," he said, and something about the sincerity in his voice struck them as odd. 

They almost wanted to burn that envelope in their drawers when they went home.

[Name] glanced back up at him, forcing themself to face his questioning gaze.

"...I'll try." 

But only for you.

+1.

In [Name]'s life, there exists a line they do not dare themself to cross. On one side stands sweet Jifang from the bookshop, the tenacious Traveller and their friends, and the ghosts of their loved ones from Inazuma; and on the other stands themself and their other shadowy benefactors. 

The first to tread the line between the two was Zhongli—who, despite the bounty on his head, still managed to maneuvre his way into them somehow being able to call him their friend.

Honestly. The Seven damn him and his stupid charisma, and his stupid voice, and his stupid encyclopedic knowledge of silk flowers.

When [Name] woke up, they were not in their home. 

Through their shock they failed to register the bandages wound around their torso, and bit back a yelp of pain as the wound threatened to reopen. In the dark they could see their overwear folded neatly on the bed next to them, and Zhongli asleep, slumped over in a chair.

Suddenly, they were acutely aware of the old bone knife under their clothes—their only souvenir from home, unstained by blood for years, and years, and years.

Would Zhongli be its first, then?

Quietly they stood and dug through their folded clothes until they felt it—the uneven blade, the worn-down grooves near the hilt. They skulked their way over to where he slept, and tried to ignore how painfully peaceful his slow, even breaths were.

His eyes fluttered open just as they pressed the blade to his throat. He seemed too calm, though, not even a twitch of his hands or a hitch in his breath to give away any surprise at all. All he did was place a loose grip on their wrist—a stark contrast to their white-knuckled, shaking hand—and ask,

"What are you doing, [Name]?" 

They grit their teeth. "...I'm sorry," they said, "but I have a contract to complete."

Something in Zhongli's eyes softened at that. This was his domain, they realised—contracts, and contingencies, and wordplay. 

His grip on their wrist tightened, ever so slightly, and he traced his free hand over their clenched jaw. "But so do we," he replied. "I've still never paid you back, after all."

There was a pause, then—a long, pregnant silence. 

"May I kiss you?" Zhongli asked, his voice like a whip-crack in the space between them. [Name] said nothing, but the crease between their brows deepened further. 

The dagger embedding itself into the floor and the soft, firm press of their lips against his was enough of an answer.

#genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact oneshot #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #too many thoughts!!!!! not enough braincells #i ammm just . barking #hoo #bee writes

[ethanharli]

Requested: On Wattpad

Paring(s): Aizawa Shouta x Top Male Reader.

Warning(s): Angsty shit comin' up, fighting, villain attack, severe injuries, death.

DNI; if you use she/her pronouns.

_________

I don't know when it happened, but we slowly drifted apart. My eyes stung as I leaned against the wall in our hallway, my wings tucked in tight so he wouldn't spot me as I listened into his conversation, he sounded so happy..

It had been a month since we had our meaningless fight, and I was expecting us to bounce back like we always did, but not this time. From that day forward he barley talked to me, barley looked at me, and always came home later then usual. For a month I tried my damned hardest to make it up to him, I apologized until my throat went sore and tried to make him dinner, I played our song in hopes that would help but it went unnoticed. I even tried to take him out on a date since it's been a while, but that was in vein as well.

So now I just sit on the side, listening in on his conversations so I could find out what was wrong, but every time he called the person on the other line he seemed so happy, happier then he'd been ever before we fought. There was a time where I kept telling him I loved him, and he just shot it down telling me to 'Shut up already' then proceed to do whatever he was doing. I just don't understand what I did wrong.

"We can't tonight, [Y/n]'s home and like you said we can't have him finding out."

The breath was suddenly knocked from my lungs as my talons dug into my arms, ripping through my shirt and towards my skin as I starred at the floor with wide eye's.

No.

He, he couldn't be..

Pushing the thoughts down I quickly headed towards our shared room, not wanting to be anywhere near him in fear that he'd hear the choked sob that ripped past my throat. My heart ached as I slowly fell to my knees, bringing my hands up to run through my hair, tugging on it harshly as I curled up into a small ball, my wings wrapping around me as a form of comfort as I tried to quiet my sobbing not needing him to hear me, nor needing my quirk to activate over my stupid emotions.

Hearing footsteps slowly coming down the hall I quickly ripped my hands from my hair, accidentally cutting my face in the process as I moved towards our bed, grabbing my duffle bag from underneath and quickly setting it down before stuffing clothes inside of it. I had originally came out there to tell him I was taking a job overseas, they said it was risky and they needed someone to get on the inside, so I took up the job without question, but now I know he wouldn't even care..

I didn't even feel the pain in my face as blood slowly trickled down my cheek, falling onto the bed sheets and floor as I moved around, "Where are you going?" My breath hitched as I stopped in place, not wanting to look at him after what I heard, the pain in my chest kept reminding me not to do it, that it'd hurt even more, but I didn't listen. Turning my gaze towards him I saw him leaning against the door frame with a brow raised slightly at my actions, until he noticed my tear filled eyes and cut up cheek.

"What happened-" I was stunned when he came up to me, carefully grabbing my face with his hands as he examined the gash, I didn't even know I was holding my breath until I let it out, feeling my body tremble lightly as I I looked at him. It had been so long since he showed this much emotion to me, so long since he showed he actually cared and I wanted nothing more then to lean into his touch and pull him into a hug, but the words of his conversation still flashed through my mind and I quickly took a step back from him, shocking him slightly ad I grabbed the rest of my clothes.

"Ah y'know.. Accidentally cut myself with my talons, you should know it happens a lot" I didn't mean to spit the words out as harshly as I did, but I couldn't control the rising pain and anger that flooded through my veins. So I stuffed my clothes in the duffle bag and used the ends of my long sleeve shirt to wipe away the blood on my face. "I'm going away for a while, I was asked to go on a mission overseas so I don't know when I'll be back."

Pushing past him I didn't dare look at his face, but instead I fiddled with the wedding band on my finger, reminding me that he and I had spent nearly eleven years together. But with a drawn sigh I took it off and placed it in my pocket, not caring for the eyes that bore into my back as I looked over at him with a pained smile. "I hope you have fun."

---

And as it turns out my suspicions were correct, Shouta has been cheating on me. Toshinori was hesitant on telling me but deep down I knew what was going on, I can still remember how I sat in the hotel room, letting out choked sobs and pain filled screams from how my world slowly crumbled down, shoving me back into a dark abyss I haven't been in for a long time. But I couldn't help the fact that I still loved him, he was the man I nearly spent my whole life chasing after, and when I finally got him everything felt magical, but it way only an illusion..

Smoke filled my lungs as my wings tried to bat it away as best as they could in the small space, the villains had found out that I was a hero and slowly everything came burning down. My clothes charred up as I carried a child in my arms, he couldn't have even been four and I tried my best to lull him to sleep, using my voice to calm him down as we fought through the debris. The other pro's said they'd be here shortly but things just seem to be getting worse as I limped forward, with no one in sight.

Catching a glimpse of a certain black haired male made my breathe hitch, not expecting him to be here, but I quickly pushed the thoughts away, getting the people out of here is more important. "Eraserhead over here!" I shouted through the smoke, watching as his eyes filled with relief when he spotted me. Moving past the fire he ran up to us and I handed the kid over to him, not bothering to make eye contact as I looked around.

"[Y/n] I need to talk to you-"

"Not now Shouta." I spat out, my instincts were going off even more then before and I felt like someone else was watching, "No I really-" And there it was, a small glimpse of silver quickly flying towards us. "SHOUTA MOVE!!"

In a blur I pushed him to the ground, the sound of the kid crying barley echoing through my ears as a numbing feeling spread throughout my body. Shouta's eyes filled with pain and tears as he looked up into my eyes, a cough ripped through my body as blood splattered over him.

Is that.. My blood?

My eyes slowly traveled toward my chest, seeing a metal spike piercing through it and barley making contact with the two below me. Blood flooded through my mouth and down my chin, forcing coughs to ripple through me as I pushed myself back some more, to give them space. "Y-ou.. Need to- go" I tried to speak, but most of it came out as gargled whispers, yet I know he heard me and was quick to shoot it down.

"No! I can't leave you here- I- I can get help-" The tears slowly slid down his face as he spoke quickly, rambling on until I weakly brought my hand to his cheek, watching as he took my hand in his and sobbed at the sight of me. "I'm so sorry [Y/n]" He choked out, while my vision slowly turned black, fading in and out of reality.

"It's okay Sho.. But you need t-o go" I smiled softly at him, my eyes beginning to flutter shut, "I.. Love you."

"I-I know.."

#bnha aizawa #x male reader #aizawa x male reader #x seme male reader #aizawa x seme male reader #cheater aizawa #angst #aizawa x dom male reader #x dom male reader #bnha #mha #aizawa shouta #shota aizawa

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Eight: Here's To Hoping

(Image not mine)

Rated: PG

~You see I had this crazy dream last night, this man he talked to me He told me everything that's good and bad about my history

He told me that you are, you are the future

And the future looks good The future looks good to me~

"Jack," Sam sighed, checking his watch, "You gotta face the possibility that Marty may not be coming."

Jack was pacing back and forth across the motel's parking lot, trying his best not to slip on the crystallized asphalt. Dean had called the frozen tarmac 'Black Ice' and Jack felt that the term was quite accurate, it did feel like he was trying to walk on ice. But Jack just couldn't stand still. It was seven thirty-five A.M. and Marty still had not showed.

"No, she's coming. I'm sure of it!" Jack said with conviction, wringing his hands before shoving them into the pockets of his jacket. The small amount of force he applied was enough to throw him off balance. Jack's feet slipped out from beneath him and his head smacked against the frozen tarmac.

Sam flinched in sympathy but didn't move from the spot where he leaned against the Impala. He made no move to help Jack up as this was the sixth time he had bashed his head on the black ice in the last fifteen minutes. That fall and the five others before it would have been enough to kill or at least critically injure your typical human being.

So naturally, or rather unnaturally, Jack sat up and rubbed the back of his head. The blood soaked his hand as the wound quickly mended itself. Soon all that was left of the injury was a puddle of blood, nearly identical to five others on the ground that quickly began to freeze. Jack scooted on his knees to the edge of the parking lot and used the snow gathered there to wash the crimson substance off his hand. He stood carefully before beginning yet another round of pacing that would most likely end the same way it had the last six times.

Jack wished he could be sitting in the Impala with Dean and Cas but he found that waiting for Marty was more important to him, so he kept pacing. He wouldn't have to wait much longer. Dean had said that they would wait until eight o'clock before going to look for her. That arrangement had taken quite a while to agree upon. When Marty had failed to show up at six o'clock, Jack had immediately feared the worst.

"What if-what if she's hurt, or something? What if she got kidnapped?" He had worried.

"Jack, I'm sure everything is fine. People have different versions of what 'bright and early' means," Dean had reassured him, taking a long sip of coffee. He did not want to be up, but one thousand miles was a long way to go, so it was best they got up early. Besides, the earlier they checked out, the less they would have to pay, the motel charged by the hour and the rates weren't cheap.

"I know, but you saw what happened last night! What if those guys came after her again?" Jack had leaned back against the Impala's seats. The only reason he had gotten into the car in the first place was for the air conditioning. He was deeply worried that Dean might just decide to take off without Marty.

"Jack raises a valid point, Dean. The odds that those men from the bar should come after Martina, are considerable," Cas noted.

"Fine, if the shrimp doesn't show by eight, we go looking for her, and if we can't find her by ten, then I don't care; we're leaving without her," Dean decided. That was when Jack climbed out of the vehicle and began his trek back and forth across the parking lot. Sam had just followed him.

"I dunno, Jack. She seemed sorta skittish, don't ya’ think?" Sam now spoke.

"What are you saying?" Jack asked, turning to Sam.

"I'm saying that maybe you freaked her out. Maybe she got scared and ran off. Maybe- I don't know- maybe she's hiding, or something." Jack's eyes narrowed.

"You think she's scared of me?" He asked, though it sounded like more of a statement than a question. "What did I do wrong?"

"No, no. Jack, you didn't do anything wrong. I think, maybe she's just scared of coming with us- of what that might mean for her. I don't think she's scared of you, Jack. Marty doesn't seem like the sort of person that scares easy," Sam reassured. A smile tugged at the corner of Jack's mouth.

"You're right. She doesn't."

"If she doesn't show, we'll go looking, but you have to be ready in case she's changed her mind."

"She-she wouldn't do that, she promised!" Jack insisted.

"Sometimes people break their promises," Sam warned.

"She's coming. I know she is."

"Okay, Jack." Sam ducked back into the car, leaving the young Nephilim to wait in the cold. Jack turned on his heel to resume pacing.

He forgot he was standing on the ice.

Down Jack went. Yet again. Bashing his head on the asphalt. Yet again.

This time, Jack decided to just stay down for a bit and closed his eyes. He could hear Dean's obnoxious laughter echoing from inside the Impala. Jack came to the conclusion that black ice, and ice in general, was hard, impossible to walk on, and absolutely unforgiving when you slammed your head against it. Jack decided that he didn't like the black ice, he decided that he didn't like ice at all. This was fortunate as seemed as though the feeling was mutual.

There was a skidding noise somewhere off to his left and Jack opened his eyes. He turned his head towards the sound and directly beside him was Marty's amused looking face, only eight inches from his own.

"That was the most graceful thing I think I've ever seen in my life. You should consider ballet, Jack," She said.

Marty lay on the ice next to Jack with her head propped up on her elbow. Her mouth was twisted in a smirk and she held an eyebrow in a raised position. The expression appeared condescending, but Jack could see the sparks of affectionate mirth gleaming in her eyes.

Now, the reason why Marty was laying on the ground was a mystery to Jack. He was also baffled as to how she had managed to sneak up on him the way she had. If she had been walking down the street, he would have seen her coming, but he hadn’t, and it wasn't as though he had been laying on the ground for very long. If she had been close enough to see him fall, then how had he not seen her? Jack sat up and his brows pulled together in slight confusion.

"Where did you come from?" He asked. Marty followed his lead and sat up with a shrug. A large, overstuffed backpack was slung over her shoulders, yet she carried it with ease.

"From over there," She said, causally gesturing to the thicket of trees just behind the Motel as if it was a normal thing for people to go bushwhacking to their destination instead of simply taking the road.

"Why?" Jack wondered. Marty shrugged again.

"Cause' it's faster and way funner than using the road," She answered. Then she blinked and her face sort of scrunched up and she shook her head, laughing to herself. "Funner? Funner? That's not even a word! I think I need to use the sleep." Jack laughed with her for a moment before glancing to his feet and frowning. "What's wrong Jack-Jack?" The line between Jack's brows deepened and he looked to Marty.

"Why do you call me that?" He asked, temporarily distracted from his cold, slippery problem. Marty's mouth twitched with a tiny laugh.

"Jack-Jack is a character in a movie about superheroes. Have you ever seen The Incredibles?"

"No, I haven't."

"Oof, buddy! I'll have to show it to you one of these days, just remind me. Anyway, Jack-Jack is a baby with, like 50 different powers that he just uses willie-nillie and, yeah; it's a pretty funny movie and when you said you had powers and that you're, like two, that's just what I thought of," She explained. "And I'm rambling again, sorry!"

"I don't mind. I like knowing what you're thinking about," Said Jack. Marty ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a shy sort of way.

"Nah, you'll get tired of it eventually." Marty tapped her forehead. "Up here is nothin' but a random mix of movie quotes, song lyrics, and paradoxical questions."

"I don't think so," Jack said, shaking his head. Marty made a face.

"Well I do! I live up there, dude! Anyway, what was the long face for?" Her change of subject brought Jack to his problem.

"I don't like ice," He said, as if that explained everything. Marty raised an eyebrow in question, "It's impossible to walk on!" Jack exclaimed.

"Ah, I see. I guess that explains why you look like a homicide victim." Marty gestured to the frozen pools of Jack's blood on the tarmac and the blood coating the back of his head. "Want some help getting up?" Jack nodded.

Planting her feet on the icy surface, Marty stood and extended her hand for Jack to take. He used her arm to pull himself up, doing his best to replicate what Marty had done to stand. He wobbled a bit and almost fell back down, but Marty caught and steadied him before that happened. When he was vertical again, Jack glanced toward the Impala and realized that now he had to get over to it without falling. Marty was quick to notice his worry.

"Come on, Jack. It's really not that hard, look!" Letting go of his hand and sliding out onto the ice, she twirled once, jumped into the air and then twirled again, lifting her foot to her knee. Her foot touched back down and dragged her to a stop, facing Jack who looked like he'd seen a miracle. "See?" Marty did jazz-hands.

"I don't think I can do that," Jack said, sounding a little intimidated.

"Oh, no way. That took me years, I was just showing off!" She explained with a wave of her hand. Moving back to him, she reached down to pick up an instrument case and wrap a gray plastic grocery bag around her hand.

"You should teach me!"

Marty chuckled and pulled some of her hair away from her face. Her black-to-grey-to-white hair was down again today, descending all the way to her knees. Jack had never met anyone with hair that long, but he thought it was amazing.

"Alright, just remind me take you ice-skating and movie bingeing, kiddo."

"I don't think you can call me 'kiddo'," Jack said with a frown.

"Why not? If you don't like it, I'll stop saying it."

"Well, I am biologically older than you, right?" Jack pointed out. Marty chuckled.

"Where does a two-year-old hear a word like 'biologically'?"

"I heard Sam use it."

"Makes sense." Marty shrugged. "Anyway, you're right, but I call everyone 'kiddo' age doesn't really matter. I call people all sorts of things."

"Like what?"

"You'll find out, honey-bunches-of-oats."

"Is that one of them?"

"Yup!" Marty snatched Jack's hand and helped him over to the car where she knocked on the driver's side window. Dean rolled it down and she glanced at the men inside. "Hey guys!"

***

"H-hey, Marty! You-you came!" Sam greeted me, he sounded surprised.

"I promised I would!" I said, I didn't miss the 'I-told-you-so' look Jack shot at Sam, "Dean, could you pop the trunk? I've got precious cargo." I raised the instrument case with my violin up into view.

"Yeah, sure." Dean climbed out of the car and skidded a little getting to the back where he opened the trunk.

I swallowed deeply. There were a LOT of weapons in there. Dean pulled on a tab and a panel came down, covering the arsenal in the truck's false bottom. I placed my case in carefully and slid it all the way to the back. Taking off my backpack, I positioned it between the case and the truck's door so my instrument wouldn't slide around. It was the most valuable thing I owned; I couldn't have it getting damaged. I then nodded to Dean and he closed the trunk. I was really doing this.

Jack opened the Impala's door for me and clung to it like a lifeline as I gathered my hair and slid into the backseat next to Cas. The boy followed after me and pulled the door shut.

"Here we go." Dean put the car into gear and rolled it out onto the road.

"So, where are you guy's taking me?" I asked, shifting to get comfortable in my seat.

"Lebanon, Kansas," Dean answered.

"Ooh, that's a long way away. I'm sorry I was so late. Did I make you very late?" Dean shrugged.

"Doesn't really matter, but yeah."

"I'm really sorry, I just wanted to say goodbye to somebody," I apologized, "But I brought chocolate! Will that atone for my sins?" I raised the bag of goodies Dan had given me.

"Hell yeah!" Dean reached back and opened his hand for the brown gold. I dropped a truffle into his palm, tossing one into Sam's lap and handing another to Jack. I held one out to Cas but he turned me down.

"No thank you, Martina," The angel said, gently.

"It's Marty, remember?" I corrected him and shrugged, unwrapping the candy. "Well, more for me, I guess." Dean reached his hand back again, asking for seconds. "Dude, this is gonna be a long ride, we gotta save our provisions." I declared, dramatically slapping his hand away.

"Aw, man!"

"Suck it up, butter-cup." I was about to pop the candy into my mouth when I noticed something on the wrapper. "Does anybody here like nougat?" I asked. Jack's head snapped up, his eyes begged for the truffle in my hand.

"I do."

"Oh good! I can't stand the stuff!" I passed him the chocolate. Jack looked at me like I was insane.

"Oh no, Jack. She doesn't like nougat, are you sure you guys can be friends?" Sam joked. At least I was pretty sure he was joking.

"You say that like I committed high treason!" I chimed.

"I dunno, I do feel betrayed," Jack said with his mouth full. I faked a gasp.

"I don't believe this! Jack, are you breaking up with me?" Dean burst out laughing, Sam snorted, and Jack just gave me his lopsided grin. My comment even won a quiet chuckle from Cas. I took that as a good sign.

"Yeah, I think so." Jack chuckled.

"Can we still be friends?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my every word. Jack pretended to think about that.

"Only if you teach me to ice-skate," He mock-decided.

"It's a date! Wait, no its not, you broke up with me." I reached out and shook Jack's hand, sealing our satirical deal. The car shook with laughter and I gave myself a mental tally mark as I tied up my treat bag, placing it at my feet. When the laughter died down, Castiel was the first to speak up.

"Was that an instrument case you brought with you?" He asked.

"Yeah it is. Why?"

"I'd just like to get to know you," He answered simply.

"We all do. So, what instrument do you play, Marty?" Sam turned in his seat to look at me.

"Uh, I play the violin," I answered timidly.

"Are you very good?" Sam wondered.

"Um, well, I don't know. I'm sorta out of practice, but I started playing when I was eight," I replied. Sam chuckled.

"I'll take that as a yes." His tone was warm, despite his previous distrust. It made me smile, maybe I was winning him over.

"Okay, my turn," Dean spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"What's with the hair? I mean, that's a lot of hair. Why don't you cut it?" He asked. I bit my lip and nodded, trying to think of an acceptable answer.

"Well, my mom loved to braid hair, and my sisters, Bree and Jackie, hated having long hair so they cut theirs real short and my mom couldn't do anything with it, but I liked having my hair long. My mom would spend hours working on my hair, that was our time together. See, she always got so sad when I would cut it and now I just-" I stopped and looked at the floor of the Impala. "Now I just can't bring myself to cut it. Not without her. I don't want to make her sad. It's all I've got left of her." With a start, I realized I was crying and quickly wiped my tears away with my sleeve.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" I cut Dean off.

"It's okay." It had to be.

"Well, what about the color, what's that about? Or does this have a tragic story behind it too?" Dean asked, trying to make a joke. I cracked a smile.

"Oh, I've always wanted to have it like this. I love the fading colors, so hiding from a blood thirty vampire just gave me the motivation to actually go through with it," I shrugged.

"So, what's your real hair color?" Dean pressed.

"Black."

"Wait, that's natural?" He sounded stunned.

"Yeah!" I giggled a little. "The black is real, only the grey and white parts are dyed."

"You're lucky, black hair is cool. Looks good on you too."

"Thanks’ Dean."

That was when we passed the small, wooden sign on the side of the road. The paint was old, faded by the sun, and chipping away but I knew what the words said.

Now leaving Copper Harbor We'll get you back soon enough!

As I watched the town I'd called home for so many years fade from my view, I found myself hoping that I'd never return. I looked forward at the road ahead of me and the hunters beside me.

I looked to the future.

The future was looking pretty good.

~See, I had this crazy dream last night, this man he talked to me He told me everything that's good and bad about my history

He told me you are, you are the future

And the future looks good The future looks good to me~

Lyrics from: The Future Looks Good by One Republic

#jack kline x oc #jack kline #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline x reader #spn #spn fanfiction #superntural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #alexander calvert #alex calvert #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #jack is baby #the writing gets better #jack kline humor #jack kline fluff #fluff #my name is cas and i write stuff #fanfic #thanks for reading #have a nice day #misha collins

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch nine

read ch eight here

masterlist

an; i’ve really struggled with juggling all my responsibilities lately so please forgive me. i just ate questionable fried rice and i’m feeling mediocre at best. have a great day you guys.

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 3.1k+

edie's pov

i take in a deep breath and click the call button on my phone after hovering over it with my thumb for a few long and painful seconds. i slowly bring it up to my ear. on the third ring, a small click sounds on the other end.

"ah! you're still alive. yippee!" tony's voice chirps jokingly at me from wherever he and the rest of the avengers were staying. i sit up in my bed and play with the end seam of my shorts.

"i am..." i trail off awkwardly, not entirely sure what to say to the man. he's making me call him everyday, and i don't know how long it's going to last, but i'm already running out of things to tell him at this point. i'm healing, my bruises are fading, the pain is subsiding.

"is peter treating you right?" he asks. i gulp at his question, remembering the moments peter and i shared only a day ago.

"u-uh yeah, wait- um what do you mean?" i stutter out, mentally kicking myself.

"i mean, is he taking care of you? yanno, making you chicken noodle soup or hot chocolate and giving you back massages- actually scratch that last one, i don't wanna think about that." he rambles on, my face flushes and i pull loose pieces of fabric off of my shorts completely in panic. no way can mr. stark find out about peter and i...whatever we are.

"hey! it's not like that." i mumble, doing my best to cover my nerves.

"yeah, sure it's not." tony retorts back with a snort, his voice just above a whisper. i'm at a loss for words, "uh, pfft, yeah, it's not."

"i don't care either way- well, that's a lie, i care a little bit. just keep healing and make sure peter stays sharp out there." i squirm in my spot and continue to update mr. stark on my condition, eager to get off of the phone.

with a final 'goodbye' and 'don't do anything stupid'- he ends the call and i flop back down on my bed. my side only slightly aches when i move now, becoming less of an annoyance and more of a numbing feeling.

i glance around my room at my fresh yellow walls. the color brightens the space and brings a warm feeling to the pit of my stomach. but my bed is still in the middle of the room, making me feel open and vulnerable on all sides. with one big huff i roll out of bed and plant my feet at the end of the frame. i give one push with both hands and the bed goes skidding back to the wall. in the process, my side cramps up and a burning sensation pushes its way through my body, making me wince.

"you okay there?" a soft, yet teasing voice speaks up from behind me. i dip my head down between my arms still placed on the bed and peek at the intruder through my legs from upside down. peter stands there, a lazy smirk spread across his lips. i roll my eyes and flip my head back up to turn around and face the boy.

"absolutely. i don't always need your help, parker." i reply and lean against the end of my bed. after the alarm went off last night, peter and i spent our time making food until he had to go out on patrol, more hesitant that ever to leave. none of us said a word about the disturbance, despite my suspicions. he returned late in the morning, later than his usual schedule. and when he did get back, he went straight to sleep, not even making it to his room. he stayed fast asleep on the couch until late afternoon. i guess he came straight to me after he woke up.

it's only been two days since i've been out, but my body is growing restless at the lack of adventure. jealousy poked at heart knowing that he would be the one seeing and protecting the city until mr. stark deemed me ready to get back out there.

i push the feeling away, not wanting to focus on things i have no control over.

peter takes a few steps closer to me, speaking playfully, "so, mr. stark gave me a call today. he wanted to know if i was taking care of you." once his body reaches mine, his fingertips immediately move to trail along my hips, "what do you think, wolfie? am i taking good care of you?" his voice lowers the closer he leans in.

i gulp audibly at his question, thinking back to my own conversation with mr. stark. my eyes meet his and i can’t t form any words under his gaze. so i just nod sheepishly at him, it seems to be the only thing i can do lately. peter's mouth curls into a satisfied smirk and it makes my stomach drop into my feet. an overwhelming surge of heat passes through my body and i have to lean back farther into the mattress for support.

peter and i didn't really talk about what had happened yesterday. at the time, it didn't seem weird or out of the ordinary. it felt natural, good. now that we've—i've—had time to think about it, well, i don't know what to think. i don't even know what to say to him. it's embarrassing how much control he seems to have over me, after so many years of being able to joke around as friends.

now his closeness makes my heart squeeze both in adoration and frustration. i'm angry at how fast he's able to make me melt into his hands. i used to tease and make him blush, now he somehow turned the tables. just add that to the list of things i can't control.

peter leans in, close enough to pepper a soft kiss to the corner of my lips, "i gotta head out, but i'll be around." he pulls away and points to his ear, where his comm rests.

"see you around." i say with a level voice, now too focused on gaining a hold of myself to be sweet with him. he drops his remaining hand from my hip, choosing to ignore my change in demeanor. with a small wave that reminds me of the nervous boy he used to be, he turns the corner and i'm alone again.

my skin is buzzing. the feeling is mostly concentrated on where peter's fingers had been, but it's spreading quick. needing a distraction from the feeling, i change out of my comfy clothes into something a little more suited for action. i rumble through my luggage and pull out a black sports bra with leggings to match. before i leave, i shove my own comm in my ear.

after making my way to the training room, i set up a few different targets. the first one is a simple circle with three red rings spaced around a red center, i place it firmly on the ground. the next one is the same, except this time i suspend it into the air, letting it sway back and forth. the last one is a little different. it's human shaped. as a fighter who refrains from hurting people as much as possible, i'm hesitant to set this one up. but after what i went through, i need the practice on a human target.

i flip through my phone and search for some music to get my energy up, i connect to the speakers that run throughout the house and crank up the volume. the bass of the music cancels out the continuous buzzing through my body, allowing me to shake the tension away. i stretch in front of the mirror before pulling a table to the far side of the room, opposite the targets.

on the table i set out an array of throwing knives, each one reflecting the fluorescent light from the high ceilings. i run my hand over the edge of one knife in particular before grabbing the handle and nailing the middle of the hanging target in one fluent motion. the knife sticks out from the center as the momentum violently swings the target in the air.

i take in a deep breath and pick up two more, one in each hand. i throw both at the same time, hitting the grounded target side by side with barely an inch between them. i continue to practice on the two targets, using up all the knives on the table in the process. i'm sweating and panting as i go to collect them and start again. i let my eyes pass over the human shaped target, but i quickly look away and focus on the other two once again.

after ignoring the last target for what seems like forever, i stop myself mid throw as i notice how shredded the others have become. i drop my arm to my side and use my other hand to turn off the music.

the silence of the room makes the pounding in my ears almost unbearable as i scope out my last challenge of the night. the lifeless figure has no face. it's only the silhouette of a head and torso, a simple shape. despite the fact, i can still see the features of one person in particular.

i raise my hand and ready myself to throw the potentially deadly weapon held in my grasp. i can feel my heart rate pick up and i stare down the figure before me.

a female, seemingly innocent.

my breathing grows heavier as i fall back on the memories of that night, only a few days ago.

she looked scared, all i wanted to do was help.

my stance falters at the thought. my eyes clouding over as i grit my teeth and shake my head to snap myself out of it.

"see what happens when you try and help people?"

with a grunt, i charge at the inanimate target before me. my legs cross the floor in three simple strides as i jump up to plunge the knife into the head of the target. i slide down and i hold the knife tighter in my grasp, letting it slice all the way down the figure, nearly severing it in two. i drop the weapon.

with heavy breaths, i turn to grab another human shaped target. i kick the other one out of the way, replacing it with the new one.

i try different attacks, needing to set up a new target every time i 'kill' the last one. i do it again, and again, and again- picturing the same face every time.

peter's pov

i can't just come out and tell edie i'm searching for the people that attacked her. but i can't come up with any explanation as to why i'm staying out so late—err, early? i don't know. i do know that every second i'm not out here looking, it's becoming more and more dangerous for her. it scares me.

the sun is peaking out from behind the tall buildings of the city. i spent the entire night staking out two people specifically, but no such luck. now i'm sat atop a building, hesitant to call it a day and go back to edie. but, oh boy, i want to see her. thinking about her makes my heart swell, and now that i'm finally able to show her how i feel, it seems like the whole world let out of sigh of relief for me.

i like the way she reacts to me. it being a huge contrast to the playful, witty banter that we used to share exclusively. now, when we get close- i'm the one who takes control. it's a weird change of pace between the both of us, but i don't mind it one bit. it’s almost like i crave it.

once making the decision to go back to the compound, i swing myself across the city, eager to see edie. i get to the door and press a suit covered thumb over the touch screen. the glass door slides open and i slip into the cold air of the compound, making sure the glass shuts and locks behind me before i go any further.

i pull the mask off my head and stumble into the living room, hoping edie is somewhere close. when i don't see her, my face drops and i turn to jog down the hall towards her bedroom. not finding her again, i raise my hand to the comm in my ear and speak.

"e, you there? where've you run off to?" i turn on my heel again to step into my room down the hall. as i do so, her voice floods through my head.

"training room." she utters, her usual soft voice sounding hardened and cold. i quirk an eyebrow up as i change into more comfortable clothes, confused by the girls tone. nevertheless, i finish up and trot over to her.

as i round the corner, my eyes settle on her standing in the middle of the room, rolling her shoulders back with a knife in her hand. i stand quietly and watch her movements, hesitant to step in and become an accidental target. edie raises her arm to throw and adjusts her feet into a low stance. so quickly, i almost miss it, the knife flies through the air towards a human shaped figure. to my surprise- it clatters against the target and falls to the floor.

she lets out a groan and pulls at her hair, muttering profanities under her breath as she turns to see me staring. her body stiffens under my gaze and slowly she lowers her arms to her side, a doe-eyed expression on her face.

"you're back." she mutters. i take a few steps into the room and gulp at what i see. targets similar to the one she just attacked are shredded and thrown across the room in piles. there must have been fifty of them, each one damaged in a different way.

looking back at her, i force a smile on my face, "you've been busy, yeah?"

her eyes follow the path mine took and she shrugs, indifferent, "mhm. training." i nod hesitantly.

"have you slept at all?" i pipe up, curious at how long she has been here.

"not really, no."

another nod, and i shuffle over to the table that holds her collection of weapons. i'm impressed with her skills, seeing as she has no 'super powers'. but damn, she could take anyone down in seconds. i admire the girl in front of me, hoping she knows just how much i do. not long after, a bug of curiosity wiggles around my stomach.

"do...you think you could teach me?" the words slip out of my mouth before i can think of the consequences. edie looks at me with a stoney expression that makes my heart jump. i regret my words immediately, afraid that i offended her or something.

i try to take it back, "i mean- only if you want! i know it's stupid so you don't..."

the devilish smile that creeps along her face shuts me up, "i'll teach you."

i let out a small breath, "o-okay. i should probably go change." i say as i look down at my baggy clothes and compare them to her tight fitted ones. edie shakes her head and waltzes up to me, the smug smile still gracing her lips. i grow nervous, realizing i'm in her territory now. this is her thing, so i force myself to hand over the reigns.

she gestures to the rows of knives on the table, "take you pick, parker." her cool and confident voice sends a small shiver down my spine. i look closer at the table and gingerly run my fingers along each sharp edge. i stop at a knife with a shiny black blade and red handle and i pick it up to feel the weight of it in my hand. the blade isn't metal or steel and it has small ridges on the surface. i bring it closer to examine it even further.

"that's obsidian, black volcanic glass. it was used a lot in the stone ages," edie takes the knife from my hands and twirls the point on the tip of her finger, "it's sharper than steel, and nowadays surgeons use it in their scalpels...good choice, peter." she smiles up at me. i can feel my cheeks flush. she places it back in my palm and struts to the center of the mat, "we'll start close, hopefully you can hit the target. how's your aim?"

i roll my eyes at her taunting words and walk over to her place on the mat. edie strolls around me in circles, observing my body language- which is less confident than i'd like to admit. she stands in front of me and plants her hands firmly on my hips, twisting them into a desired position. next, she does the same with my shoulders, all the while sticking her tongue out in concentration.

then she comes to the knife in my hand and pulls it away, only to place it back and wrap my fingers around it one by one. it immediately feels more comfortable in my hand. she circles me one more time and hums in satisfaction at her work.

"now, obsidian is brittle, so it's really important to make your shot count or else you risk breaking the blade," edie comes back around my front and leans in close, her finger resting under my chin, "don't break my blade." she threatens with a smug smile curling at the edge of her lips. i can't stop my eyes from dropping down to look at them, and she notices.

edie traces her finger along my jaw line, making me shiver once again. i groan at the lack of control over my body and my eyes widen at the sound. she just smiles and lets her hand fall down my chest to finally rest at her side before taking a step back. she points behind her to a circular target a few yards away.

"give it a go." her voice grows softer, encouraging me to make a move. i tighten my grip around the knife and raise my arm to chuck it at the target. i stop short.

"could you...maybe show me first?"

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit @kitykatnumber @franksholland @goddamnit5sos @thehugslut

#shoutout to tom holland #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #peter parker #holland #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #original character #peter parker x oc #bummer summer #avengers #iron man #tony stark #mj #ned leeds #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland chaos walking #chaos walking #tom holland cherry #cherry #marvel #mcu #one spidey boii’s masterlist

[esselley]

It’s @celesoran‘s bday!!! Please accept this small Speed Demons ficlet! :D

On a scale of one to ten, one being the least worst, and ten being the absolute most terrible, a rowdy bar in the rougher part of town on a Saturday night is probably on the higher end of Asahi's discomfort spectrum.

He knows Daichi and Suga love this place, though, because it reminds them a little bit of the old days, the scent of smoke and danger always lingering in the air, the possibility of fight or flight always right around the corner. Asahi doesn't miss those days nearly as much, and he knows the two of them are more or less happy in the relative stability they have now, but he does understand the notion of rose-tinted glasses born from nostalgia.

Asahi likes the quiet, though. That's why he watches from a booth in the corner of the room, nursing a soda and snacking on admittedly delicious chicken wings, while Daichi and Suga jostle for elbow room at the crowded bar. They're both already tipsy, and are making a game out of swatting each other's asses and then acting like one of the other rowdy bar patrons around them is the overly friendly culprit.

"I have a question," a voice to his right says, and he looks over at Kageyama, who is frowning at the bar over his beer.

Kageyama is also not a fan of the whole bar scene, as far as Asahi can tell. He regularly has trouble trying to make out what Kageyama is thinking, though; unlike Suga, who always knows, or Daichi, who Kageyama just informs willingly. Asahi never knows, and he's too nervous to just ask, so he has to guess.

This time, however, it seems like Kageyama is initiating things, so Asahi says, "Yeah?"

"Do you sit over here because they're so embarrassing?" Kageyama asks, tipping his bottle in their friends' direction.

Asahi looks over, just in time to witness Suga haul off and let fly with a devastating smack of his palm, except he misses entirely, hitting the backside of the guy standing next to Daichi in his drunken state. Asahi and Kageyama both cringe visibly.

"Yes," Asahi says, "yes, it is."

"They did say it was fine if you didn't want to come, though," Kageyama points out.

"I know," Asahi admits, "but, sometimes I like to come along just to make sure—uh oh…"

He starts to stand, as he watches Suga trying to apologize to the man he just accidentally and violently spanked. Asahi can already tell from the gleam in Daichi's eye and the hard edge around Suga's mouth that the man may have had a few choice words of his own to say.

"Sometimes," he says quickly to Kageyama, "I like to come just to make sure they've got a fast out when they need one."

Asahi hates confrontation more than anything. But he'll be damned if he doesn't back his best friends up in a fight.

By the time he gets there, Daichi is already using The Smile. Not a good sign. People are starting to watch them, but Asahi pushes his way through the crowd, muscling his way through as gently as possible. He's taller than most, so it's not hard. Behind him, he hears an angry curse followed by a distracted "Sorry," that sounds like Kageyama has squashed someone's foot and doesn't particularly care. Asahi is grateful to him for following.

"Hey, Daichi," Asahi says, as congenially as possible. "How are you guys doing?"

"Hey, Asahi!" Daichi says, about three times as loud as is necessary. "We're good, we're good! Some people just don't know how to accept apologies, that's all!"

"I don't want an apology," the man says, "I want my wallet back."

"And we already told you," Suga says cheerfully, "that it's not our problem you forgot to bring it and want us to pay your tab." He jerks his head in Daichi's direction. "I only buy him drinks, asshole."

Asahi sighs. Here they go.

"What'd you call me?" the guy asks. "What'd you just say?"

"What?" Suga asks lightly, with the biggest shit eating grin on his face Asahi has seen to date. "I didn't—did you guys hear me say anything?"

"You called him an asshole," Kageyama says, helpfully. Suga blinks at him and then burst out laughing.

"You're right, I did!"

"Okay!" Asahi says quickly. "I think maybe it's time we—"

"Hold on a second, headband," the guy says, and Asahi realizes he is being addressed. Awkwardly, he touches the band holding his long hair back, and the guy nods. "Yeah, you. None of you are goin' anywhere until you gimme back what you stole."

"Listen," Asahi says, "they didn't steal anything. We're sorry for the other… thing, but—"

It is at this moment that the night turns, as they say, wild. Asahi watches, eyes widening, as the guy grabs a nearby bottle and then smashes it against the bar top, shattering the bottom into messy, jagged edges.

"Ah," Asahi says, "that's an escalation."

"Listen up, you little shits," the guy says, and Daichi and Suga look ready to fight, and Asahi is trying to figure out whether to just start throwing punches or get Kageyama out of the brawl zone first, "I don't like getting the cops involved in my affairs. So either you can hand it over, or I'll—"

That's where he cuts off—with a startled, grunted "OOF—", eyes going bug wide in his face as he hunches over and drops the bottle, which shatters all over the floor.

Everyone stares at him, confused, but Asahi is staring at the person behind him, because that person has just headbutted their angry accuser right in the kidneys.

Whoever this newcomer is, he's small and wiry, with brown hair spiked high enough to make him look a little taller than he actually is. He looks up at Asahi, and his eyes are sparkling. He seems utterly thrilled to find himself involved in this altercation.

For a brief moment, it flares, for Asahi—that rose-tinted nostalgia, the thrill of danger.

Then someone yells, "FIIIIGHT!", and the brawl breaks out.

Asahi ducks a swinging fist just in time, coming face to face with Daichi, who shouts, "Time to go!" The owner is already yelling down his phone to the police. He spots Suga, who is giggling maniacally like the orchestrator of doom that he is, and points.

"HEY, YOU!"

Suga stops laughing. "Okay, yes, time to go."

A hand grabs Asahi's wrist and he whirls in panic, before realizing, it's the guy with the spiky hair.

"Out back!" he shouts over the noise. "Come on!"

Asahi has no idea who this guy is, but he follows him without a second thought.

A glance over his shoulder reveals Daichi and Suga are at least following—also, Kageyama, who literally flings some hapless drunk clean out of his path in his hurry to keep up. He looks like he actually may be trying not to grin, judging from the way his lips are moving. He does that sometimes.

They bang out the back door and into an alley.

"Where are you parked?" asks the guy.

"Uh…" Asahi spins in place, getting his bearings. "It's this way—"

The wail of police sirens in the night cuts him off and they all jump to action, sprinting away from the building.

"Go, go, go!"

They have to scale a fence. The spiky haired kid is like a little gust of wind, scrambling up it in two seconds flat and swinging his body over onto the other side before Asahi is even halfway up it. Suga can't stop laughing and almost falls trying to climb back down the other side—Daichi turns just in time to grab him around the waist. Kageyama refuses to just dump his beer and has to climb the fence one-handed, and it's a wonder he makes it over before the cops come flying down the road, screeching to a halt in front of the bar.

But they're already gone.

"It's that—one—" Asahi pants, pointing up ahead. They parked on a quiet side road a few blocks from the bar.

"Shut up," the newcomer says, and Asahi looks at him in surprise. "That's a fucking 1971 GSX! That's yours?"

"Uh, yeah," Asahi says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No way. No fucking way, dude," the guy is still rambling, as they all pile in. Asahi isn't exactly sure why he's getting into the car, too, much less the front seat, as Suga, Daichi, and Kageyama pile into the back, Kageyama squashed between them.

"Did you punch anyone, Tobio?" Suga asks.

"No," Kageyama says. "Should I have?"

"There's always next time," Daichi says wisely, slinging an arm over his shoulders. Suga ruffles his hair.

"The two of you are turning him into a delinquent," Asahi admonishes them, as he starts the car. The rumble of the engine earns him a low whistle from his front seat passenger.

"I'm already a delinquent," Kageyama protests. "I fix cars for an illegal street racing organization."

A head of spiked hair whips around, first staring at Kageyama, then at Asahi. "You race? Here?"

Asahi shrugs, hunching over the wheel at the sudden earnest attention he's receiving. "Yeah—well, I mean, I guess? Sometimes."

"Asahi, come on!" Suga says. "He races more than sometimes, and he's a menace behind the wheel."

"I'm not a menace," Asahi says. "I always follow safe driving practices."

"Do you race this car?" their new acquaintance demands and Asahi laughs.

"No, no… we have a lot of cars back at the shop, but this one's just… it's not really racing material."

"Not really racing—!" the guy slaps the dashboard so hard Asahi jumps. "Asahi, right? This is totally racing material. This could be the racing material!"

"No, it's an old model, I haven't kept up with it as well as I should—"

"Because you won't let us," Daichi calls from the backseat, while Kageyama nods.

"Could I have a look?" the guy presses, insistent, and Asahi stares at him briefly, before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Wh-why do you want to have a look?" he asks.

"Because I bet I can convince you to race it," comes the confident reply.

Suga whistles from the backseat. And then says, "Wait, who are you?" He loudly whispers to Kageyama and Daichi, "Has he been here this whole time?"

"I'm Noya," says the man with the sparks in his eyes. 

Asahi chews on his bottom lip. It’s not that he doesn’t want to race this car, it’s just that, as attached to it as he is, he doesn’t know if he could handle something happening to it—or worse, finding out this car, of all the ones he’s raced, can’t make the cut. 

“Why do you think that asshole thought we stole his wallet, anyway?” Suga asks Daichi in the backseat.

“He’ll find it where it’s supposed to be, now,” Noya tells them. “I figured he was going to be having a way worse night than I am, so I put it back.” 

Asahi’s mouth falls open. “You...”

Noya throws back his head and laughs. “Yeah... he’d been a dick all night, but even I felt bad for him after that shot to the ribs.”

Asahi can’t help it. He laughs, too. “Noya... if you want to take a look at the car, then... anytime.” 

“Yeah?” Noya asks him excitedly. When Asahi nods, Noya grins at him. “ "Then say the word, Asahi, and I’ll fix this baby up like new."

Happy birthday, Cel! 

And if you want more street racing, check out the rest of the verse here!

#haikyuu!! #asanoya #daisuga #asahi azumane #nishinoya yuu #sugawara koushi #sawamura daichi #kageyama tobio #haikyuu!! fanfiction #esselle writes #speed demons #essie's hq fic

[tayegi]

Hey lu! I just read equilibrium's new update and its so good! I have been waiting to see the drama unfold once OC realises that Jungkook likes her. This has got to be one of my favourite writings from you! The storyline is so fucked up and sad yet i could totally see this happening in real life. Take your time to write the next part and i'll like you to know that you have found yourself a loyal fan here! Have a great day!

Ah im glad that you liked the update! And as strange as it is, theres a bit of realism, huh? bc real life relationships are never perfect. and this is such a level of fucked up that it could srsly happen in our fucked up world haha. Thank you so much and i hope you have a great day as well!

Anonymous said:If I were OC in equilibrium I definitely wouldn't have continued or even gotten into the relationship to begin with. Idk maybe I'm too prideful but if anything I would be MORE upset over being in love with someone who obviously cares more about someone else WHILE in a relationship with both. Like I'd have to witness the extent to which the person I love values someone else more than me, be constantly reminded that even if I'm with him and he cares about me to a degree, I will always be 2nd best.

wait really? This is so interesting to hear! I mean, i completely understand your perspective, but i feel like it would be hard for me to resist... Like imagine if it was IRL Jimin and he wanted to share you with an outside party. Could you really resist that? I am an weak bitch and id prob crumble in seconds D: 

Anonymous said:I really don't understand why all of these anons are so upset with the Mc and not the boys as well? The three of them are clearly using each other, it's not just her using Jk. Anyways, I love your stories and this one is fabulous as well, and those stupid anons need to chill out. You're fantastic and have every right to put them in their place! I look forward to the next chapter!

exactly! The internalized misogyny on this site is fucking ridiculous. But all of your kind comments make me realize that these idiots are the minority so im super grateful

Anonymous said:Equilibrium is so compelling. It's essentially a story like a chair with three legs- if one breaks, the whole structures collapses. Each person is only willing on keeping eachother around for their own gain. If anyone should be blamed for this, it should be Jungkook for simply suggesting the polygamous relationship knowing full well what it could mean for him specifically. Even more so, he's the only person "playing the field" taking advantage of Jimin's affection and OC's desperation - C Anon

Anonymous said:Continuing on my last ask. I also can't help but to notice that both Jimin or OC are particularly biased. They probably didn't intend to act that way but they do. But they also respect the "third wheel" of their ideal relationship respectively. Jungkook didn't do that. He intentionally tends to Jimin's needs knowing that's what he wants for no other reason than to keep OC away from Jimin. Cunning John Junglecock... someone is going to get hurt with this relationship built on lies - C Anon

Yes exactly! Theyre all pretty messed up, but Jungkook seems to be the most conniving of them all. I love the way you’ve thought this through and your interpretation is so spot on! Thanks so much for reading so carefully ^^

Anonymous said:Now that ive read chapter 10....how the FUCK are ppl mad at oc for this mess? Oc is dense for not picking up on jimin being willing to sell her for a corn chip in comparison to kookie, but the boys are by far the worst. They should've broken up after a week, with everything as toxic is it is. Both have ulterior motives when they say yes to the relationship. Everybody is in competition. And there is like, ZERO communication between them until kookie confessed in this chapter. It's a hot mess.

i know right??? seriously asdfjlksdfjk. tho i wouldnt go as far as saying that jimin is worse than the OC. theyre pretty damn equivalent. But no one’s innocent here haha. It’s just a truly screwed up situation D: 

Anonymous said:You are queen and I love you. I literally don't give a flying fuck what anyone else says about OC being a 'whatever-the-fuck-they-said' cause mygOD ARE YOU A FABULOUS WRITER. Fuck me Equilibrium is amazing. I'm slightly tipsy rn, but I know good literature when I read it, and I am leaving it open to reread it tomorrow when I am sober, but even I can see that the characters are all equally using each other, and each of them are to blame for this shit-storm of a relationship. Perhaps JK even more?

ahahahaha this is amazing! I’m so glad that you are tipsy! TAKE AN EXTRA SHOT FOR ME!

and i know right? I feel like Jimin and the OC have been played. Theyre innocent idiots. But then again, it’s not like they were forced into doing anything. it was their own free will :/ 

Anonymous said:Gahh ch10 was so intense! I agree with others that all three are wrong to manipulate each other but idk i found myself feeling kinda sorry for Jimin by the end of 10? The way I've interpreted it so far is that he probably felt the most inclined to just go with it and agree to the poly relationship, or at least that's how I read it, and yeah fine maybe he hasn't treated yn quite as 'nicely' but like he hasn't condemned her for also being affiliated with jungkook, but then again he's using this(1)

Anonymous said:(2) relationship to be with jungkook but yeah sorry I'm repeating myself but I really get the sense that he's just been kinda going along with it rather than outright manipulating them both, and yeah his resolve has been kinda breaking over the last few chapters but the flashbacks suggest that Jimin is at heart caring and just lovesick with jungkook whereas the oc and jungkook seem to have an unhealthy obsession w jimin and y/n respectively. Sorry I'm rambling but yeah thx for the amazing fic!

yeah i can see it that way! I feel like jimin has a better sense of morality and guilt than the other two. They are unhealthily obsessed, but jimin genuinely cares about them both, so it’s a bit sad. :/ But you can also see it from another dimension-- Jimin knew the OC liked him, Jungkook knew Jimin liked him and they both are playing their respective parties to get to what they want. However, the OC did not know that Jungkook liked him until the latest chapter, so she was pretty much innocent until now. so yeah. it’s debatable who’s the most innocent, but it sure as hell isnt jjk lol 

Anonymous said:Equilibrium is amazing for me because the longer you think about it the worse the characters get likeJimin at first seems like the purest one but then you realize he knew the OC was always being bullied and used and she depended on him because he was her first friend and he still made the decision to use her once again.Also I feel like part of her feelings for him have something to do with her feelings she came from an environment where she was never treated well and then suddenly here he was.

YES EXACTLY! It’s so hard to tell. bc jimin does genuinely care about the OC, but at the same time, the OC wasn’t manipulating anyone or stringing along anymore until the latest chapter where she finally broke and turned into one of them. So yeah... it’s the lucifer effect, man. The situation will change you 

#equilibrium #ofsunshine-andrain #lu answers