CHAINSAW MAN, oneshots

MISTRESS - Beam/Female Reader

Mermaid Devil - Part 2

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The place you called home was completely dark and smoke-filled. The blue screen became hazy in your eyesight as the smoke gradually expanded the area. Your nose and throat have lost all sensation.

You were sucked into the cushions of the couch even more, the cushion's roughness is noticeable on your skin given how little it was washed.

The motions on the TV screen danced in your pupils as the vibrant light reflected off of your quiet eyes. They're laughing and smiling on the screen, the actors, or rather, their characters, are. You watch this show every day after work even though it is dreadful.

It's been a long time since you've watched an episode of Friends and smiled with them. Watching them has not been the same since you were a child, nothing since then has stayed the same.

Things were so damn simpler, back then.

The absence of light was evident. The only light that was present was from your TV, where its beam illuminated the room. You were laying on a curved couch in front of the flat-screen television. The décor in your apartment was monotonous and expressionless.

You had a tall couch, and a tall television stand, and overall everything stood tall. The plants you had installed when you first moved in have been neglected for so long that they're nearing their end. Their demises were ignored in your amenity.

Smoke escaped from your mouth as you exhaled. Your bare arm rested on the side of the couch, remote and charring cigarette in hand, your shirt and tie left neglected on the floor. It was a brief and uneventful day for you despite everything. Don't be bothered, but 'twas your birthday today. A day made notable by whoever gave a damn, and you sure as hell didn't.

Besides, you didn't have anyone you wanted to go out with. For instance, you didn't even tell any of your co-workers about it. Whoever they are. You didn't know. Why bother remembering their names when they were vanishing by the day? Socializing was bothersome anyway.

Nonetheless, the question is, how d'ya manage to get the day off? Well, Makima, the new chief lady, pulled you to the side when you arrived at work that morning. It came as a surprise to you when she suggested that you take the day off on your birthday, for you to appreciate it. You assumed she discovered your birthday from your file or something of that sort. Unrealistic to assume she just knew. Not like you both were buddies.

Anyhow, there wasn't much of a problem with your absence. Work had been lackluster as of late with you not having a partner, and thus not doing much work in the field with the horrid devils. To ensure that at least one devil hunter can return, the majority of them are sent with their partners. Really, all you've been doing is waiting for your next one to come, along with some paperwork, of course.

Shame what happened to your last partner. God bless his soul. The man didn't die or anything, but the lifestyle of a devil hunter, fucked with his head. He abruptly resigned, which was not all that shocking, and it had now been over three weeks. For roughly two months, you were partnered.

Despite appearing unconcerned to the naked eye, you secretly wished him the best. You didn't know him long but you think you remember him saying how he had a family or some shit. His wise choice to prioritize oneself over this soul-crushing career truly made you consider leaving and pursuing something else as well.

Whereas this thought was a temporary fantasy and ridden as dust as your hand unconsciously grazes your bare stomach, scars from years of this bullshit that pays the rent are all your fingers felt. The sensation your fingertip heeded, the jaggedness, makes your mind flash through all the horrid memories it mercilessly stored.