#i-???! where the hell did this even come from brain

[syluss-littlecrow]

release

<Caleb x fem!reader>

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell. 

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him. 

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side. 

You're supposed to be back already. 

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread. 

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue. 

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you. 

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think. 

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze. 

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…” 

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched. 

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles. 

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed. 

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did. 

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.” 

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room. 

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view. 

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed. 

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit. 

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…” 

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath. 

He sighs. 

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that. 

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.” 

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?” 

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face. 

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off. 

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.” 

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare. 

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again. 

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer. 

Then he turns away. 

What the fuck? 

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head. 

“You should go back to bed. It's late.” 

He turns to open his door for you to leave. 

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.” 

He pauses in his steps. 

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door. 

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.” 

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind. 

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed. 

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?” 

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts. 

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly. 

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh. 

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin. 

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more. 

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough. 

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad. 

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed. 

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb. 

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed. 

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily. 

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs. 

“We both know you wouldn't.” 

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full. 

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted. 

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up. 

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily. 

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes. 

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed. 

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit. 

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head. 

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven. 

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name. 

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second. 

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down. 

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?” 

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him. 

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink. 

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else. 

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below. 

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him. 

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips. 

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?” 

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you. 

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out. 

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It’d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.” 

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.” 

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace. 

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens. 

What day is it now? 

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks. 

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime. 

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny. 

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again. 

Are you even awake to realise this? 

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight? 

He watches your breathing steadily. 

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning. 

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below. 

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots. 

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.” 

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder. 

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls. 

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths. 

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again. 

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom. 

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.  

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward. 

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always. 

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence. 

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you. 

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint. 

6 missed calls. 

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you. 

[fawnhart]

sugar and rafes first time meeting ! ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭

You remember the moment your whole life started to crumble. It was a Tuesday, you think. Maybe a Wednesday? Doesn’t really matter. The days just blur together when you’re stuck in a house where you’re not allowed to live

You were listening to Jeff Buckley. You had it on repeat for weeks now, hiding it under a loose plank in the floorboards of your room. Your parents would never allow it. Not in a million years. Especially your mom. She’d explode if she ever found out. Everything was so god damn evil to her

But that day you thought you had time. She was supposed to be gone for at least another hour. It was Wednesday. Church group meetings. It was always a Wednesday.

You slipped the CD into your player old and busted up, the kind with the cassette tape thing but with a CD attachment, so it wasn’t completely outdated. You sat on your bed, staring out at the little slice of sky visible through your window, not really thinking about anything in particular just thinking. Then you heard the door downstairs.

“What the hell is that noise?”

You froze. Your heart dropped into your stomach. You thought your mom wouldn’t be home yet. You’d been so sure. You asked Mrs. Maggie to 1000% sure. But she was early. You scrambled to hit stop, but the music kept playing. Her voice, firm and pissed, was coming closer.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your pulse raced. You shoved the player under your pillow just as she stormed into the room, her eyes narrowing. She was already clutching that look the one that meant something bad was about to happen.

“What did I tell you about this?” Her voice was tight and screechy.

“I wasn’t doing nothin’” you said, your voice shaky. You didn’t even believe yourself. You knew exactly why she was upset. But you had to try. You had to try to be normal for once, even if it was just for a few minutes in your own room.

“Nothing?” Her lip curled, disgust in every word. “Baby, you think you can just fill ya’ head with that filth and call it ‘nothin’?’”

You bit your lip, holding back tears. She stepped forward, pointing at the CD player under your pillow.

“This is demonic! I knew it. You’ve been listening to the devil behind my back. It’s not enough that you’re dressing like... like one of those whores at school. But now you want to be dirty on the inside, too?”

Your throat felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing. What were you supposed to say?

“You’re going to ruin everything I’ve worked for. Everything your father and I have taught you,” she hissed, her eyes wild with something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t love, not even close.

“it’s just music,” you whispered, too quietly, but she heard you.

She grabbed the player from your bed and yanked the CD out.

“It’s. not. just. music,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s a gateway. It’s corruption to the brain.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell her that all you wanted was to be normal, to have what everyone else had. a life outside of this house, outside of her rules. But the words never came.

She was moving now, pulling open drawers, emptying them onto the floor.

“all that filth you’ve been hiding from me and I’ve been lenient on is done for. I’m taking it all.”

She tossed your music cds, your makeup, your books. Everything you’d spent months gathering, everything you’d used to try to feel like you were an ordinary girl, was being thrown away.

And then, the worst part.

“Your father won’t stand for this. We’ll have you cleansed”

You faltered. Cleansed? It was such a cold, clinical word. But you knew what it meant. The prayers. The rituals. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t live through that.

Your eyes were filling with tears, your chest tightening.

“I’m sorry!, I didn’t mean to. I won’t listen to that again, okay? I swear,” you pleaded, though you knew it didn’t matter.

But it was too late, she was already at the door

“You know honey, my church group has been just how ungodly you’ve been acting, but I didn’t believe them….. I hate that you proved them right”

locking it behind her with that final click that meant you were trapped.

You pressed your back against the door, the tears finally spilling over. You couldn’t think straight. Your whole body was shaking, your mind was screaming. I need to get out of here.

You knew what you had to do.

You waited for what felt like hours, listening to the muffled sounds of your mom in the kitchen. The smell of dinner wafted under the door, and all you could think about was how your entire life had been planned for you. You were supposed to be a good girl. A good Christian girl. But you weren’t. And you were never going to be.

Finally, when you thought your heart couldn’t take any more, you got up. You grabbed the little bag you’d hidden in the closet. Nothing but a few clothes, and the money you’d saved up from waitressing at ‘sticky’s’. Quietly, carefully, you pulled out the plank in the floor, grabbed the rest of your hidden things, and shoved them into your bag. You didn’t think twice.

You climbed out the window, holding your breath, praying that she wouldn’t hear you.

Once you were outside, you took off running.

You didn’t know where you were going, but it didn’t matter. You had to get out.

You ran for what felt like forever. The night was cold, but you didn’t care. It was better than being to the place you once called home.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You glanced around realizing you were for sure not on the cut anymore, the big tall houses made it clear to you were on figure eight now.

then you saw him

Rafe Cameron.

You’d seen him around, of course. He was one of the rich kids, always walking around with that stupid confident smile, like he owned the whole island. You’d never paid him any attention. You had enough of your own problems to deal with. But when you saw him standing at the end of the street, leaning against his car smoking god knows what, you froze.

You’ve heard the stories about Rafe Cameron. He’s the kind of guy everyone talks about but no one truly understands.

He’s always been a mystery, and he still is. But there’s something about him, something that draws you in, even though you know you probably shouldn’t get too close.

You never really expected to see him again, not after the way he disappeared seven years ago.

Rafe left figure eight right after that night, the night he ended up in jail. No one knows exactly what happened, but everyone has their theories.

Some say it was a huge mistake, some say it was just a matter of time, others say ward himself drove his only son out of town. But whatever it was, it was enough to make him walk away from everything. His family, his life there, his whole world.

He packed up and drove five hours away, living on his own, far from the memories and the mess the pouges he hated had caused.

In the time since, he’s built himself up. People talk about how he’s thriving now, working as a firefighter or something like that. Hard work, steady pay, and no one really bothers him anymore.

It’s like he’s trying to rebuild his life, piece by piece. But even though he’s been gone for so long, when he talks about his baby sister wheezie, there’s this soft, almost protective vibe about him

Now, he’s back in town, just for her birthday. It’s strange seeing him like this, but there’s something different about him. He’s older, quieter, and maybe even a little lost in his own way.

He was looking straight at you, his brow furrowed, like he knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice muffled by his blunt but clear in the quiet night air.

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step toward you.

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you weren’t alright!. You were running away from your own life, from your own mother. But you didn’t know how to tell him that.

“I... I’m fine,” you said, but even to your own ears, it sounded like a lie.

He took another step forward, still studying you with those eyes that seemed too kind for someone like him.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice softer now. “You look rough.”

Your breath hitched. ‘Gee thanks’ Yeah, you looked rough. You had been rough for years. But hearing it from someone else...it hit different.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know him. But you also didn’t know anyone who would help you, not like this. So you warily followed him

You stared at him, confused, trying to figure out if he was serious or playing some sick joke on you.

Then it hit you. He was talking to you like you weren’t just the religious girl with the crazy parents. He wasn’t weirded. He wasn’t judging you.

The last time someone came up to you, the whole town heard about it. Your parents tried getting them expelled from school for harassing you.

That was the last time anyone ever talked to you

“I know you know Wheezie,” he said, a little chuckle in his voice as he opened the door. “you can’t be all bad, right?”

Wheezie? then it clicked, the girl with glasses who could down 6 cherry milkshakes in a row, nice.

“Come on,” he said, the smile slipping from his face for a second, a real one this time. “Let me help you.”

You didn’t know if you were ready for help, but you were so damn tired. Tired of pretending everything was okay. Tired of running. Tired of fighting your own heart every damn day.

You took a deep breath and took up his offer.

He didn’t even look like the guy everyone made him out to be. Sure, he still had that wild, unpredictable look to him, but he wasn’t hostile. He just… asked if you needed help. Simple as that.

You didn’t know what else to say. You didn’t know where else to go.

He didn’t press you with questions. He just turned on the engine, his eyes flicking over you like he was checking to see if you were really serious about getting in.

"You're Wheezie's friend, right?" he asked as you climbed in.

You nodded, glancing at him, trying to gauge whether or not you were making a huge mistake. "Yeah... kind of, she’s always at the diner" you added, almost too quietly. You didn't want to give him the wrong impression, what 18 year old is freinds with a 13 year old?

He smiled just a little, but it was different from the smirks you’d seen on his face at school or around town. “That sounds like her” It wasn’t mean. It was soft

You can’t help but wonder what really happened in those seven years, what it was that changed him, but for now, you’re stuck here in the passenger seat of his truck, staring at his side profile as he drives.

Something about being around him feels oddly comforting, even though you know there’s so much you’ll never understand.

The ride was awkward, the kind of silence that felt thick enough to choke on. Rafe had the radio low, some song you didn’t recognize playing in the background.

You focused on the streetlights flashing by, the pavement blurring, but all you could think about was the tight knot of anxiety in your chest. You didn't belong in this car, in this moment. You should have been running in the other direction, but... for some reason, you weren’t scared. Not yet.

You had no idea where the hell you were going. That’s when he asked.

“So, do you have anywhere to go?”

You looked at your lap, clutching the bag tighter. You couldn’t tell him the truth, not completely. Not yet. "yeah" you said, your voice barely above a raspy whisper.

He didn’t say anything at first. But then you heard him exhale, like he was thinking it over. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been through but….but you’re safe now,” he said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle, like he’d somehow sensed how scared you really were. “Ok?”

“Ok” You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. He wasn’t wrong. You were scared, terrified even, but for the first time in forever, someone wasn’t judging you for it.

No one in your family ever told you you were safe, ever told you that everything would be okay. You sniffled, the tears threatening to spill over.

You didn't want to break down in front of him.

The car slowed to a stop, and you realized you were at a diner, the neon lights buzzing softly. Rafe looked over at you, almost like he was waiting for you to protest or make some excuse. You didn’t. You just followed him out of the car, not saying a word.

Inside, the place smelled like burgers, fries, and cigarettes. The warmth was a stark contrast to the cold night outside, and it made you feel a little safer, like you were stepping into something straight out of a movie. Rafe led you to a booth and slid into the seat across from you. For a second, you both just stared at the menu, neither of you speaking. You didn’t know if you were supposed to order, or if he would. But then he broke the silence.

"What do you want?" He didn’t sound like he was expecting an answer right away. Like he was just making sure you were okay.

You looked at the menu, but your mind was elsewhere. You didn’t care what you ate. You just... didn’t want him to feel like he had to do this.

Like he had to take care of you.

“Just fries and a water,” you said, you didn't even know why you said it. It wasn’t like you had much of an appetite.

He raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment on it. He called the waitress over and ordered for both of you. A burger, fries, and a milkshake. When she left, he turned to you, his gaze softer than you thought he’d ever let it be.

"How are you holding up?" His voice was quieter now, the edge gone. He wasn’t the Rafe Cameron you’d heard about, the one everyone warned you to stay away from. He seemed... almost normal, it was freaking you out.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I don't know," you muttered. "Just tired, I guess."

He nodded, leaning back in his seat, but you caught him glancing at you every few seconds like he was still trying to figure you out.

“What are you running from” he said bluntly, his stare showing no signs playfulness, just a full serious look

you looked away, your tears sticking with your mascara and glitter eyeshadow “Home”

“Been there” he nodded taking in your appearance in, how could such a pretty girl like you be so alone and lost?

The food came quickly, and Rafe pushed the plate with the burger and fries toward you. "Eat," he said simply. “I’m not going to let you go hungry.”

You picked at the fries, not feeling hungry but not wanting to make him feel like you didn’t appreciate it. The milkshake was so cold and thick, and when you took a sip, you felt a small sense of comfort settle in. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

As you ate, Rafe kept glancing at you, almost like he was waiting for you to crack. When you sniffled again, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve, he frowned. "I already told you, you don’t have to be scared," he said, his voice dropping a little. “You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

It was a strange thing for him to say, considering who he was. But in that moment, you believed him. You really did.

When you finished the milkshake and most of the burger, you felt a little more alive again, but the weight of everything of your family, of the lies, of everything that had pushed you to this point, was still there.

And you still had nowhere to go.

you just had a sparkly sack and a dream.

Rafe didn’t say much after that, just leaned back in his seat, and let you gather your thoughts. But when the waitress came by to take your plates, you stood up, and swung the creaky glass door open feeling that familiar unease creep back in.

"I’ll just go to the docks, the ferry leaves at 6am," you said, Turing around to see rafe as he followed right behind. You were going to take the ferry to the mainland, with the little money you had left. You weren’t sure where you were going from there, but it was something.

Rafe’s expression turned serious, almost annoyed. “No,” he said flatly.

“what?”

“I’m not letting you go to the docks. It’s dangerous, and I doubt you even have enough money to get anywh-.”

“You can’t fix everything!” you snapped, feeling all the frustration you’d been holding back suddenly spill out. "You can’t. fix. everything"

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I can’t fix everything,” he said, his voice firm. “But I can try to make sure you’re okay. I can’t just let you go off like that.”

You glared at him. “You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you like he was weighing something in his mind. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his buzzed head. “I know enough.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say. Your whole world was falling apart, and yet, here was this guy, this person you should’ve never trusted, according to everyone you knew

but then again why does it matter what everyone says? if you’re going by that logic then you would be at the bottom of the barrel.

“You want to runaway right?” he said, voice steady. “I have a place, it’s 5 hours away, that far enough for you?”

“Do you even know how old I am!? Hello, I could turn you in right now for being a weirdo” you asked with sass, anything to get him off of your case

“ ‘sticky’s’ won’t hire under 18.” He said nonchalantly rolling his eyes, “unless you lied or where getting paid under the table? Then I could turn you and your employer in”

You didn’t know if it was the exhaustion in his voice, but something in you cracked. “i didn’t lie, I’m 18” you said your voice trembling slightly. “I’ll go with you. But no funny business, I will jump out of the freaking car” you said crossing your arms

“Whatever you say, sugar”

Was this a good idea? Probably not. You’re parents would ironically raise hell over this town once they found out their precious daughter had run off with Rafe fucking Cameron

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[colossrat]

Is the captain insane or just brain rot?

Batman has several children, and even so it is very difficult for him to keep up with the new slang or memes of the generation. So the fact that Captain Marvel, a guy who appears to be between 25-30 years old (but theoretically has bazillions) stupidly knows a lot of these jokes, doesn't enter his mind and he finds himself constantly just questioning the sanity of his co-worker.

Because it's all so absurd, he can't tell anymore when the captain is just being himself and dropping the most meaningless piece of lore in the world, or if he's reciting a tiktok meme

several league members don't really know, at least not the older ones

After a mission, Marvel is talking to cyborg. Is the topic about dating? teachers? Superman is listening in the background while he has his own conversation with Batman a little away, so he's not really listening.

But something catches his attention, and it's the captain's choked tone of voice, almost as if he were crying

Marvel: oh my god, oh my shayla, no... ;(

Supes go pale and tune off from the conversation that he is not part of, feeling that he has just invaded the privacy of his colleagues

Batman: superman? whats wrong?

Superman: I-- I think I just overheard the captain lamenting about an date he had with a teacher called Shayla… he was crying, i think… I feel horrible, I didn't listen on purpose---

Batman:

Batman: who that fuck is shayla?

billy was just joking, because actually his teacher made him change seats in the class so he wouldn't be sitting next to freddy anymore, since they talk like hell, and he was demonstrating to cyborg how shaken he was by reciting "oh my shayla"

Then there's that time where Voltage (Freddy or Lieutenant Junior) is with them during a magical mission, and out of nowhere the two start communicating using "u i a", in rhythms that resemble morse or binary code…

Marvel: u i a i u i-i a-i?

Voltage: u i a i u-u i i a-i.

and they both start laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world

Zatana: Is this an extinct language or something?

Dr. Fate: I would also like to know… I think I'll have to do some research, but maybe it's an ancient, witchy language. I didn't know that the captain was teaching witchcraft to his apprentice.

And then there's Batman discreetly writing down all the lyrics they say. he will question constantine or jason blood later to see if it mean something to them

everything gets more confusing when these codes start to have pop music melodies, not that they recognize these songs at first

And a time when John Constantine is explaining something at a meeting for the league, something about fusing magical objects that were stolen. and the captain is almost combusting to keep from laughing.

Constantine: So in theory, the thieves took the hyperball staff and put it together with the cursed sapphire stones, and put that together with what they gathered from the cord wand and sickle feathers--

Marvel: and then they became hyperphires-corckle? like, HPCK?

Constantine: what in the bloody hell is this?

Marvel: -- nothing… no, no, I confused the objects-- it's nothing. it was from-- another category of magical objects, there is no correlation, you can continue.

He simply couldn't get the PPAP thing out of his head, and the gestures that John made to symbolize the objects coming together reminded him of that iconic clip (pen pineapple apple pen)

the magicians' heads are racing to understand what a hyperphires-corckle is, and so is the heads of everyone in that room. except for Barry who is shaking to keep from laughing since he understands where the captain really came from with that.

Hal is looking at him confused. He was off Earth for so long that they created a whole system of new magical objects? Not that he was already aware of the old ones. fucking magic.

and sometimes there is no context at all, marvel will simply drop one:

Marvel: gegagedigedagedago...

Wonder woman: What did you say, brother??

Marvel, completely seriously: Abin mery alongtameago...

Hal: Is he insulting us...? wait marry? married?!?

Marvel: wede wude--

Flash: I think he's possessed, I'm going to call John and Batman!!

One day, there is an alien invasion. they are green, thin and bald. Billy can't help but say:

Marvel: Oh my Olympian gods, they are of the "dame tu cosita" kinda alien no way!!

Hal: Now you HAVE to be kidding me. Ring, what the fuck is he talking about?

and the ring responds by saying that they are aliens X from planet Y with characteristics of being tall, thin, green and friendly

Flash: friendly? they are invading the earth!

Marvel, joking: maybe they just want to dance and have "nossas cositas"? lol, you know their stuff

Green Lantern's ring glows and says "this species is known to visit other planets in search of dance partners for entertainment"

Marvel: oh.

And then Marvel is pushed to dance with them next to Green Lantern since apparently they both have knowledge about the race and how to entertain them?

Marvel is a horrible dancer, the movements he makes are humiliating (yes, the moves in the meme), but it doesn't take long for the aliens to ignore the green lantern and imitate the captain, completely amazed by his dance. forgetting the invasion and forming a dance circle around him

Batman: I think I'm having a stroke.

Flash: I don't know how I'm going to look at his face after this…

Hal: I can't believe they didn't even care about my dancing…

Wonder woman: I thought your dance moves were very good, green warrior.

Hal: thanks Di...

Voltage, who for some reason is there, recording: this is going to be a hit on my tiktok.

Shayera: this is too humiliating to see, I'm going back to the watchtower.

Martian Manhunter at some point joined the dance circle. he is not part of that race, despite strangely having certain physical similarities. he just found it very entertaining

Marvel was very happy to have him there, he doesn't like to be embarrassed alone. The gods in his mind are giving him migraines cause they're laughing so hard

And also, the Martian is someone who can understand the captain's jokes, since he has a lot of access to watchtower technology and he doesn't do much when he's not in action, so he ended up becoming an iPad kid

but he avoids showing that he understands because despite recognizing it, he is very very shy

Cyborg also understands since he is literally connected to the internet 24/7, but he plays dumb because he doesn't want to look unprofessional and childish, not in front of his bosses at least

There was a time when Marvel came out talking about a toilet monster eating people in Chicago. flash thought he was talking about that skibidi toilet meme or something and commented about it with the league. It took a good few minutes for Marvel to convince them that it was true and that he needed help.

In the end it really was a giant toilet monster that was eating people and teleporting them to random sewers around the world.

One day, Marvel spends hours talking about a magical bipedal tiger that drinks tea. he actually spent HOURS talking about interesting facts about this tiger. No one was paying much attention, thinking it was some meme or joke that they weren't aware of.

He said that the tiger was a stuffed animal, an attraction at the zoo, a zoo employee, a super old cartoon icon, an explorer from another dimension and a lot of other things at the same time. Obviously they thought it was a lie?? or just not real

Several times at other times, days or weeks, Marvel commented on this tiger. Did they start to think it was some kind of series? maybe

until a moment came when the fucking tiger appeared at the watchtower, having tea with the captain. He had a green plaid suit and a posture fit for royalty. He greeted all the heroes who passed by with great respect and grace. They no longer know what to believe coming from the captain

But how the fuck were they supposed to know that a tiger named Mister Tawky Tawny was real and was the captain's best bestie friend forever ever?

[theocddiaries]

Knuckles: Can you believe it wasn’t that the butterfly killed my caterpillar and hid the evidence to replace her? It was that my caterpillar turned into a cocoon and came out a butterfly. Yeah, Shadow, like a Transformer. Tails: Conversations like this? All the time. No one gets bored here… Shadow: Well, I’m really glad your Miss Daisy is okay, Knuckles. But I asked you if you knew where the ring bag Longclaw gave to Sonic is. It’s the last thing he has from her, and he lost it because of me. Knuckles: Well, I don’t know. The last time I saw it was when I gave the last ring to Tails. That's one hell of a story too. You see, Sonic went crazy when an evil hedgehog almost killed our dad-- Shadow: I know, I was there. It was me. Knuckles: And if you were there, why are you asking? Shadow: Goodness, Knuckles, are you stupid or what’s wrong with you?! Knuckles: Oh, there he goes, too! Look, Shadow, I don’t know how things were back in the bunker, but here we respect each other, okay? Sonic [enters the living room]: Hi. Knuckles: I'm sure you learnt that from this dumbass. Sonic: Who are you calling a dumbass, dumbass??? Knuckles: See how he treats me?? One day, hedgehog, I’ll give you a punch that’ll unscrew your head from your neck. Sonic: Not if I punch you first and make your two remaining brain cells bounce off each other! Knuckles: Oh yeah?? Well I-- Maddie [comes in after hearing the noise]: Boys, what kind of talk is that??? Your dad and I tried to raise you with manners and values, and now I have to listen to you say things like that? Where did you even learn to talk like that?? Tom [passing through the hallway to the kitchen]: Mike! What’s up, dumbass? Are you with Brian? Pass him the phone… Bri, how are you doing? Ha ha, not if I punch you first! I'll make your two braincells bounce off each other! Shadow and Tails [hold back laughter] Maddie: Tom…! Tom: Wait. [covers the mic]: Maddie, please, I’m on the phone with my brothers. One here trying to be a role model for the kids, and you’re doing things like that in front of them. I can't believe you sometimes.

[nameless-jamie]

JUST SAY YES

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

TW: cursing, kissing, emotions

Jamie Tartt had played hundreds of matches under the stadium lights at Nelson Road. He’d scored breathtaking goals, taken crushing losses, and heard the roar of the Richmond faithful chant his name. But tonight, standing in the dimly lit tunnel, his heart hammering against his ribs, he realized that none of those moments—not a single one—had ever come close to this.

This wasn’t about football. This wasn’t about the game.

This was about her.

Y/N.

The woman who had been by his side through everything. The one who had seen him at his worst and never turned away. The one who had called him out on his bullshit when no one else dared to. The one who had believed in him, even when he hadn’t believed in himself.

And now, she was carrying his child.

A baby. Their baby.

Jamie still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, the sheer enormity of it. Some nights, he’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, completely wrecked by the knowledge that soon, he would be holding a tiny, fragile little person who was half him, half her. And he knew, deep in his bones, that he wanted her by his side forever.

There was no time for any more second thoughts. He just needed to ask.

"Helloooo?"

Y/N's voice carried across the empty stadium as she stepped onto the pitch, the soft grass crunching under her trainers. There was a teasing lilt to it, but underneath, there was curiosity too. She didn’t mind coming to Nelson Road—she’d spent so much of her life here by now that it felt almost like home—but still, she had been curled up comfortably on the couch when Jamie had called her, insisting that he needed her to come to the stadium because some accident happened there and she needed to help him.

An accident he couldn’t possibly fix on his own.

"Jamie Tartt, you better have a good reason for dragging me out here this late, I was snug like a motherfuckin' bug and—”

Now, as she stepped onto the pitch, her silhouette outlined against the deep navy sky, Jamie felt like he was on the edge of something life-changing, he was ready. He cleared his throat loudly. That was the sign for the team to get started...

“Wait. Jamie? Are you there?” she called again, glancing around.

And then—

The lights flickered on, flooding the pitch with golden brilliance.

Y/N froze in place as the sudden brightness illuminated the entire stadium, making the empty seats glow under the floodlights. She turned to him, brows furrowed, her breath visible in the crisp evening air.

“What the hell—”

And then, before she could finish, the massive screen above the pitch flickered to life, casting a soft blue light across the field. The letters appeared slowly, deliberately, until the message was fully formed:

WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Jamie could hear the sharp inhale she took, could see the exact moment it registered in her brain. Her wide eyes flicked from the screen, back to him, back to the screen, as if she was trying to confirm that this was real, that this was actually happening.

And that was when he did it.

He stepped forward, right to the center of the pitch.

And in one smooth motion—because, of course, he had to be a little dramatic about it—he dropped to one knee.

Wearing his full Richmond kit.

Because, if he was going to propose, he was going to do it right.

For a moment, she just stared at him, completely frozen, her hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes glistening under the bright stadium lights.

Jamie’s heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, but he kept his voice steady, soft, honest. He wasn’t nervous about asking the question—he already knew what he wanted, knew that she loved him—but still, his stomach was a fucking wreck. This was big.

“I thought about doin’ this in some fancy restaurant,” he started, his accent thick, rough with emotion. “Maybe somethin’ all posh and romantic, like one of those private little candlelit dinners where they bring out a ring in a glass of champagne or some shit.”

She let out a watery laugh, shaking her head at him, and he could see it—the way her shoulders started to tremble, the way her lips pressed together like she was trying to hold back a sob.

“But then I thought,” he continued, “Nah. That’s not us, is it?”

Jamie glanced around the stadium, exhaling slowly, feeling the weight of everything this place meant to them.

“This is where it all started. This club. This team. You and me. I spent so long messin’ about, not knowin’ what I wanted, not realizin’ what was right in front of me. And now, we’re here.” His gaze flickered down to her belly for a brief second before returning to her eyes, soft and filled with something so much bigger than words.

“We got a little one on the way, and I want them to grow up knowin’ that their mum is the best fuckin’ person I’ve ever known. And I want them to know that I—” he exhaled, a soft smile touching his lips, ”—that I loved her from the start, even when I was too much of a dickhead to say it.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped it away quickly like she didn’t want to lose control, but Jamie saw the way her breath hitched, the way her entire body trembled under the weight of what he was saying.

He reached into the pocket of his shorts—because yes, he had figured out how to keep the ring in there without losing it—and pulled out a small velvet box.

Slowly, he flipped it open.

The ring sparkled under the stadium lights, catching every glimmer, every reflection. He had spent weeks picking it out, agonizing over it, making sure it was perfect—something classic but timeless, something that would look just right on her.

“So,” he said, voice lighter now, teasing, “What do you reckon? Fancy marryin’ me?”

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief, her hand still covering her mouth like she couldn’t quite process what was happening.

“Jamie, you absolute idiot,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Before he could even react, she was on him—dropping to her knees in front of him, throwing her arms around his neck, holding him so tight that he nearly toppled over. Jamie let out a breathless chuckle, wrapping his arms around her just as fiercely, feeling her warmth, her love, everything he had ever wanted, right here in his arms.

“You’re such a dick,” she mumbled into his shoulder, sniffling.

“Oi, that ain’t very romantic,” he muttered, grinning as he buried his face in her neck.

“I’m eight months pregnant, I’m allowed to be emotional,” she shot back, laughing through her tears.

Jamie pulled back just enough to see her face, to cup her cheek and wipe away a stray tear with his thumb. “Yeah, well. Get used to it, love. You’re gonna be stuck with me now.”

She smiled—wide and breathtaking and his—and pressed her forehead against his. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Kiss me, please?”

And then—

The sound of popping champagne.

Y/N jumped slightly, twisting toward the sidelines, where the entire fucking team was spilling onto the pitch, cheering and clapping like they’d just won the goddamn league.

“Oi, bruv, about time!” Isaac called out, grinning as he lifted a champagne bottle in the air.

“We were this close to drinkin’ it ourselves,” Colin added, laughing.

“Took ya long enough, Tartt,” Roy grumbled, but there was a rare, small smile on his face.

Jamie groaned, burying his face in Y/N’s shoulder as she cackled, shaking her head. “You got them involved in this?”

“Course I did,” Jamie muttered, rolling his eyes. “What’s a proposal without a bit of spectacle?”

As the team surrounded them—cheering, hugging, clapping him on the back—Jamie felt it, deep in his chest.

This was home.

Not just the stadium. Not just the pitch.

Her.

And as he kissed her, right there in the middle of Nelson Road, with his teammates hollering around them and champagne bubbling over onto the grass, he knew one thing for sure:

This was the best moment of his entire life.

And it was only just the beginning.

[bubble-tea-blossom]

The Smuggler and the Soldier

8. The Note

Pairing: f!reader x Joel Miller, wc: 4.2k

Warnings: first aid descriptions, sutures and blood, 18+ ONLY

Previous chapter

You wish your brain would leave you alone. One night without dreams would be nice. Or at least if they're going to be wildly vivid and strange, make them them pleasant. Like an acid trip with a talking bear or something.

Nope.

His face. Gunner. Its inescapable. No matter where you run, his head just grows bigger. His eyes shine like searchlights, exposing you in any corner of shadow you hide in.

Then his hand grabs your face. Nails digging into your cheeks as he turns your head left then right, inspecting. Only this time, your head never stops spinning, round and round like your neck is made of rubber.

You must be dying. All you can smell and taste and feel is the metallic iron of blood. It's rising from the floor and submerging you as your head is spun faster and faster.

You try to scream but opening your mouth only gains you a mouthful of warm sticky blood.

You have to fight to wake up. Clawing at consciousness like scaling a cliff.

Your eyes blink open slowly, eyelids made of stone. Even awake, your head is spinning, but at least your neck isn’t twisting infinitely.

A few seconds pass and you realize the scent of blood hasn’t passed with your dream either. Neither has the touch of it. You raise your hand that was laying on the cot, the palm is wet and red.

You sit up, moving much faster. You look down, at the blood soaking the mesh. Your rattled brain confuses it for yours and you worry for a second if you started your period.

Except for when you follow the trail, its clearly is coming from the smuggler.

His back is to you. The shirt he was wearing before was transformed into one long bandage that's wrapped around his torso. You must have really been out of it when you returned last night because you definitely did not notice that.

The makeshift bandage is more red than plaid at this point. It looks like a fucking murder scene. Only his muttering in his sleep keeps you from worrying that he's dead.

“Hey,” your croak is barely audible. You clear your dry throat and try again.

“Hey!” You get louder, but your voice is still quiet and croaky. You try to poke him to wake his ass up. You don’t want to prod a wound which looks like his whole torso so you end up jabbing your finger at his temple.

He stirs but doesn’t wake up. So you pinch his ear. Hard.

He snaps upright like a cobra, smacking his head against yours when you don't get out of the way fast enough, snatching your arm and violently twisting your wrist all in one move.

At your yelp, he lets you go, blinking the sleep away. He retracts, looking a little guilty while you rub your wrist.

“The hell you doing?” His voice is thick.

“What are you doing? Was your plan to just lie there and bleed out?”

Even with both of you leaning back, when the moment calms again, you find it too intimate, sitting on the same uncomfortable cot, nose to nose, glaring at each other.

You get up, and begin pacing around the room, trying to shake off the cobwebs of sleep and the way that moment made you feel.

Joel slowly straightens out, rubbing his eyes. With both feet on the ground he finally speaks, “I need your help.”

“No shit.” You snap, arms crossed.

Joel wisely keeps his mouth shut.

You sigh, “Look, if I do this, you owe me. Got that? I didn’t ask for you to come back. I don’t owe you anything.”

Joel nods, “I know.”

“And if-“ you barrel on before you realize he agreed. You hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh, ok then.”

"Well, first things first. I'm going to have to stitch you up." You grab his leather backpack from the ground and plop it on the desk.

“There’s a med kit near the bottom,” he tells you.

You rummage through his pack, sifting through spare clothes, and food rations, but mostly boxes of amo. You find a black fabric case, and pull it free. Its surprisingly heavy.

You’re already unzipping it when Joel speaks up, “that ain't it.”

The muffled clinking of glass while you handle it strikes your curiosity. The case is obviously important.

You open it like a book. On the sides are rows of small vials of glass tucked into slots, inter spaced so when the case closes they don't rub against each other. There's at least fifteen vials.

The burn of Joel's gaze ignites against you while you carefully pull one free. You hold it up to the rays of light filtering in through the boards on the window. The liquid is clear, the faded label reads 'doxycycline'.

You do some rough math as realization hits you. Slowly, you lower the vial, turning it in your fingers, the glass cool but thin, especially at the rounded top where it was meant to be broken. One drop on the floor and the precious liquid gold inside is gone. Wasted. Doomed to evaporate on the dusty floor, never providing life saving care that it could. Just gone.

You swallow your dry throat in order to speak, eyes still taking in every detail of the little bottle in your hand, "This was the payment?"

Joel speaks behind you, "Yes."

This was worth your life? You can only ponder it through a detached lens. You have experience with black market medication dealings. You know how desperate people are. How much they are willing to sacrifice for a little bottle just like this one in your hands.

"I'll take it as a compliment," you speak dryly, it does not feel like a compliment, seeing an objective amount your life costs. It makes you feel smaller than ever. The ant the mean kid burned with a magnifying glass and laughed as it writhed in agony. You return the vial to its empty slot. The whole case is worth enough that your tired brain can only come up with 'a fuck ton'.

You zip the case back up, "Well at least it might come in handy." You leave it on the table and resume your dig in the smuggler's backpack. You finally find the med kit, at the very bottom, which is not where you would keep yours. Its hard, white plastic, the iconic red cross on the front.

Inside is packed with very basic essentials. Nothing fancy. Mostly bandage rolls, a tourniquet, antiseptic wash. The suture kit is actually a sewing kit, meant for clothing repairs. It make do.

After gathering your supplies, you set the chair by the cot. But one look at Joel, his blood soaked torso. You're missing one last thing. Water. And lots of it.

Luckily the ocean isn't that far, but sewing him up on the beach in the open is too risky. You look around the little safe house for a pail or container. You dip your head into the bathroom as you pass and there's a bucket in the corner.

Wary of bathroom buckets, you inspect it, "please be a shower bucket," you pray as you pick it up. It's clean.

Oh so you'll answer prayers about buckets but nothing else? You chide the god who you know is dead.

Bucket in hand, you go to exit the bathroom when the movement in the mirror stops you in your tracks. You have to steel yourself to gain the courage to look at your reflection. Slowly you face the sink, and inch by inch raise your eyes until you're staring through your own pupils. They're uneven. Big surprise there. You definitely have a concussion.

Despite the pain you feel, seeing how shit you look is jarring. Short lacerations dominate one side of your face, caused by your skin tearing between your skull and the knuckles the soldier used on you. Your ear didn't escape any of the hits either. A cut on the ridge of your ear is too wide to stitch itself back together, you suspect you'll look like an alley cat even after it's healed.

Your nose is broken, the bridge swollen, bloody and crooked. Trying to set it straight yields a huge rush of added pain and no visible difference. Then there's your eye, the skin around your entire orbital bone has turned deep purple, the swelling preventing you from opening your eye all the way.

Your bottom lip was lacerated as well, dried blood resting in the cracks of your dry lips.

Confronting the visual proof of what happened stuns you. You knew it was bad. Yet you remember almost nothing. Only the rest of the soldiers leaving the room, and facing off with Bruce, and then you woke up to a needle in the thigh and Joel's scared, handsome facing hovering over you.

Some much hate and you were forced to wear it when you weren't even a part of any of it. You want to ask, what did I do to deserve this? But you already know. Nothing.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Joel's cold tone fills your head from what feels like a lifetime ago.

You have to force yourself to look away from your reflection with more strength than making yourself look in the first place. If you keep staring at yourself, you're going to do something very stupid.

You march out of the center without a word, slamming the door behind you.

All the walk down the beach, down the metal staircase, the images of the glass vials flash through your head. You kick sand over any blood splotches left on the ground.

You return to the boat, scanning the horizon but you see nothing. You crouch slowly, cupping water in your hands. First you scrub your hands with your nails, then slowly you wash your face, hissing at the salt in the water digging into the numerous cuts and scrapes. Despite the bite, you feel better afterwards.

You wash out the bucket, then fill it, keeping as much sand out of it as possible. But the eye sore of the boat on the beach holds you back from returning to the visitor center.

Two paths play out in your mind. One where you return to the boat, paddling it slowly down the coast. Maybe faster than on foot, but far easier to track. All FEDRA would have to do is follow the direction they saw you heading.

The other path, is returning to the city on the foot. Getting lost in the maze of the wasteland. Much harder to track. They'd have to follow on foot too, the broken concrete streets are too decayed to drive on them anymore. And most importantly, you wouldn't be in the open.

Your mind's made up. First you search the boat for anything you could use, which is not much. A coil of rope. Then you drop your pants and shirt on the sand besides the bucket. You hate swimming in heavy clothes. Then you make the executive decision to paddle out until it gets taken by a current. Once it's past the waves and floating on its own, you jump out.

"Fuck," you gasp as the cold water shocks you awake more efficiently than coffee ever could. You begin your swim back to shore.

Standing on land, dry clothes over your wet body, you watch the the waves carry the boat. You hope it gets far enough away before it crashes back on land to confuse anyone following, hopefully get them off your scent.

You pick up the bucket, and return to the visitor center.

Walking into the office, Joel looks at you, surprised, "You came back."

It's a statement, but also a question.

You stare at each other while you decide what to say. Finally you settle on, "Against my better judgment."

You want to demand him the same question. But the look on his face already tells you it's the same answer.

Joel looks you up and down, "You go for a swim?" He's standing, well more leaning over the desk, looking over maps.

"You'll get blood on those," you scold, stepping into the room. He takes a step back from the maps.

You set the bucket of water down on the ground, "I drove the boat away, I figured it was more of a liability than anything else."

Joel grunts. You can't decipher if it was a grunt of approval or the opposite. You're too tired to care. But then he says, "Good thinking."

Well at least he's not criticizing every choice you make like some men you've worked with.

You eye the cot with a little disdain, "I'll sit on the blood soaked cot, you sit on the chair," you tell him.

You do your best not to sit on the giant patch of blood, but your pants are already stained with variety of people's blood anyways so what's the fucking difference at this point.

The smuggler makes quite a site as he walks over to you. Bare chest covered in blood that you know is not all his. Blood he spilt and blood he bore for you. Looming over you, you make the mistake of making eye contact before it's broken when he sits down.

"You need to wash yourself after this" you deflect any unwanted emotions of fear or anything else with a cold remark.

He settles in the chair, leaning against the the back, facing away from you, "Agreed."

You heave a deep sigh as you wash your hands in the bucket. You hate doing sutures. No matter how many times you've done them, you still get queasy. You would much rather be getting the stitches than giving them.

You start by unraveling the makeshift bandage. Unsuccessfully, you try to keep all parts of your hands, save for the very tips of your fingers, from touching the warm body in front of you. You know it's a little silly since you're about to get very hands on. Peeling the fabric from around his ribs forces you to pass your hands around the front of his torso. With each pass your face dips close enough to his skin your breath rebounds off and warms your lips.

Finally, the bandage is free. You toss it in the far corner of the room where it hits the floor with a wet plop. The full extent of the damage is revealed.

The slash is long, extending from just above his hip all the way to edge of his shoulder blade. It's deepest at the base, becoming more shallow as is rises, however the deepest parts are concernedly deep. Days of bed rest would be ordered by any actual medical professional. Something tells you that is as unattainable in your current position as a vacation to Italy.

"Ok, let's get this over with," you announce.

You start by mopping all the dried, congealed, and fresh blood away. At the first splash of water, Joel stiffens ever so slightly before he relaxes again and makes no further hint of discomfort at the salt water soaking his wound.

"Thank you," Joel's voice is quiet, almost sheepish as you pat dry the edges of the wound.

"Thank me after you're sewn up. I'm no medic," you pluck the needle from the spool and begin threading, "This from the axe?"

"Yes ma'am."

Images of the soldier swiping the axe at Joel flash in front of you.

"Half a second later and this wouldn't be fixable." The axe would have stuck in his ribs, and tore out his insides when pulled free.

"I heard you scream and knew to duck," he tells you.

"A man that listens," you swoon while rolling your eyes, another deflection for the little spark of happiness his words lit deep inside your belly. Do people in your normal life ignore you so much that that would rise a reaction from you? Apparently.

The needle threaded and hovering, you steel yourself. One hand keeping the skin still, the other pushes the sharp tip of the needle through the flesh, the initial moment of resistance that you have to gently force past has you anticipating a flinch, a groan, a curse, anything. The needle is guided out the other side of the wound and you pull it free. Still, there is no reaction from your patient.

Looping the thread twice and slipping the needle through to create the knot, you tighten it til the skin closes taught. You cut the thread and move on to the next.

Stitch after stitch, you work your way up the wound. Gaining more confidence combined with the time pressure that right now you two are sitting ducks has you stitching and tying off the sutures faster and faster. Yet when you take a moment to view your work you're not even halfway done.

Diving back in, you lose yourself in the bloody task, trying to do a good job with the lack of expertise. As you tie off what must be your thirtieth stitch, Joel yawns.

"Did you just yawn?" you ask, pulling the the thread taught through his skin.

"Mm, did I?" He sounds sleepy.

You can't help the laugh that comes out more as a scoff, "Not your first rodeo?"

"Not my first rodeo."

"I can tell," you glance at the numerous scars adorning his back. Some are easily identifiable as gunshot wounds, others are more mysterious in origin.

You loop the thread twice and pull the needle through, closing the suture. You snip the thread and start on the next one.

"I'm glad you know what you're doing," he admits.

"Mm, May, would be looking over my shoulder, telling me all the things I'm doing wrong, then probably just shoo me away and take over. Guarantee you'd barely scar if she was doing this"

"She a medic?"

"No, not really. She was a seamstress at a theater production before the Outbreak, a transferable skill I guess. Turned into the neighborhood seamstress in the QZ, clothes or bullet holes, she can patch you up."

Talking about May, you're slapped with the reminder of the situation. You would do anything for her, and now when she's in the greatest danger, you are too far away to do anything. If FEDRA finds her, she's dead. Very real memories blur with fears, and for a moment, as if from a crystal ball, you watch a soldier shove May to the ground and put a gun to her head.

In an effort to distract yourself, you keep talking. You aren't sure why.

"Even from the start, when people would come over to get patched up, she'd have me watch. Teach me what she could. Her eyesight has started to go these days, so I've had to take over a lot of it."

There's a very long pause. You get to your fortieth stitch when Joel speaks, "Is she the one that you traded insulin for?"

Your hands falter in their movements, but you have to get over it quickly, finishing the knot. This is the first time Joel's brought up your first meeting. The last time he spoke of it, he threw it back in your face. Told you it means nothing.

"Yes," your next stitch starts with a jab rather than a poke, but you get a hold of yourself, honed with detached professionalism.

The final stretch approaches, your fingers stiff from prolonged focus. The smell of blood has overwhelmed all else for so long that you no longer notice it.

Swimming through your head are memories. Just as each one crests to the top, another comes rolling in, flooding you in a never ending cycle. Memories of May. Memories of your mother. Memories of the Outbreak, and the first time you killed someone in self defense. All the things you’ve done to keep yourself safe.

The man sitting in front of you is what pulls you back to the present. What has he done? In the short and yet simultaneously long time you’ve known him, he’s done a lot.

This doesn’t scare you like it should. Sewing the flesh of a man that’s shed his humanity, even if it was in exchange for survival. The veterinarian performing dental surgery on a tranquilized bear sheds their instincts to perform their duty.

You loop the thread and slip the needle pulling the last knot taught to his skin. Thread snipped, and needle put down, you pull a compression bandage from the kit.

“Stand up for this, it’ll be easier,” you order.

Joel complies silently, pushing the chair out of the way.

You get him to hold one end of the bandage against his side while you wrap it around his torso. It's the same dance as before, forcing you closer with each pass of the bandage around him, your heart beating faster with the uncomfortableness. It only covers the worst part of the wound, the rest of it you tape gauze over the stitches.

"There," you announce, taking a step away, "how's it feel?"

"Sore," Joel answers.

"I bet, you lost a fuck ton of blood," you're honestly a little surprised he's standing.

The smuggler does his best to scrub his hands and arms free of blood in the bucket. You give him some privacy, rummaging through the desk and collecting all the maps and papers you can find.

You carry them out into the main room, laying them flat on a table by the boarded windows. You pause at the single sheet of paper already lying on it. You pick it up gently, it looks faded and its coated in a thick layer of dust. You deposit the maps to read it, the strain hurting your eyes, the words jumping around on the paper.

Vivienne,

It's Andy, I've been waiting here for you and Elise for the last week. Where are you? Goddamn Viv, we agreed where to meet if we got split up. You can't be gone. I can feel it.

I'm heading to the tallest building downtown, I can see it from here. I have a feeling you'd head there, hoping to meet up. I'll stay there as long as I can but be careful, there are hunters in this area.

We got ambushed by some. Jordan got shot. I tried my best but I think he became septic. I buried him behind the building, facing the ocean. I'm so sorry, baby.

I'll see you soon, I know it. Tell Elise I love her to the moon and back.

And Viv, be careful.

Love, Andy

Reading the note, you hold the paper more preciously, like a newborn duckling. Its full of love and loss and desperate hope. You could use some of that right now.

Opening the front door, you don't have to step out far to see the building he was speaking of. It sticks out even more these days with the adjacent buildings in partial collapse. It's fucking huge. Sticking straight up into the sky like an ugly rod of rebar. The view you'd have from the top would extend in miles on either side of the coast.

The door opens behind you. The smuggler steps outside, looking much cleaner and fully dressed in a coffee brown t-shirt.

"I think I have an idea," you tell him. You point to the skyscraper, "perfect place to watch for any followers coming from the water while we heal." Your concussion is going to slow you down and Joel is vulnerable to infection until the wound closes, not to mention the severe blood loss.

Joel takes his time to answer, but you know he isn't ignoring you. You watch from the profile his eyes scan the building, take in the surrounding city, weighing the pros and cons.

"Could work," he says finally, "you think they'll follow?" He turns to you.

"I don't know," you sigh, "it's what I would do, if I was a fucking sociopath. Send a small team, skilled trackers, take out the loose ends."

"How much of a threat are you now?" Joel asks, which is a very polite way of asking how much you matter.

"To FEDRA as a whole? Nothing. To an offhand mission, we're both proof that whatever sham they're playing at is a lie."

"So a lot." Joel sighs.

"Yep," it helps to express your thought process out loud with someone. KNowing that Joel is now just as tangled in this mess makes it but it a lighter load to bare, "if they are following, we're sitting ducks. We need to get going."

"There'll be infected out in the city." Joel warns.

"Where are there not?"

"A lot more," he presses.

Looking at his serious face, the grey at his temple, you trust he isn't exaggerating. Since coming to the QZ, you've spent your years behind its walls, rarely patrolling the perimeter much less venturing into zones far beyond. Joel has, being a smuggler comes with an experience you don't possess.

Just one more thing you'll have to trust the man on.

You let your bravado slip, "Is there another option?"

You catch his eyes skip around the injuries on your face, his heavy brows pulling in before he shakes his head.

"Then let's get going."

You take lead, heading towards the downtown core, the smuggler following a few paces behind. Your eyes set on the skyscrapper. The sight of it, standing tall like a bolt of steel defiance against the rest of the crumbling city fills you with a naive wonder if Andy and Vivienne ever reunited. Or if he's still waiting up there, hoping.

A/N: PSA don't wash wounds with salt water.

[ryuucam]

MIXIN’ N MATCHIN’!

when … your best friend can’t stand your crush on genshin men anymore, and starts working on a genius plan to get you guys together!

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ lumine & albedo, zhongli

a/n … zhongli’s section takes place during the lantern rite! i don’t know much about chinese celebrations and their customs so i did my best to research some information. please lmk if i got anything wrong!!

[honkai: star rail version coming soon] [pt 2 coming soon]

#1 MATCHMAKER OF ALL TEYVAT (AND BEYOND) … LUMINE!

lumine has been traveling teyvat for what seems like ages now, the journey to find her brother becoming more and more lengthy as time passes. luckily she encountered you, quickly bonding a tight friendship, reminding her of her home-world, where she used to play matchmaker with her friends. so, when one day she notices your gaze lingering just a little bit longer on him, she quickly puts 2 and 2 together… detective lumine starts her mission now!

case 001 — ALBEDO

even someone who wasn’t a genius like her (in her humble opinion) could notice how your cheeks turned redder and your gaze softer in front of the charming alchemist from dragonspine. really, it’s both a blessing and a curse — lumine now doesn’t have to wander around the snowy mountain by herself (paimon isn’t the best company…) but the price to pay is watching your atrocious attempts at making conversation with albedo.

what’s worse (is there even anything worse than watching two awkward idiots stare at each other without doing anything??) is that she can see that albedo likes you too. hell, was he always this talkative? who even cares about how much mucus cryo slimes produce in the summer? you, apparently — which is precisely why she set her mind on getting you together.

albedo, apparently, doesn’t only look like a charming, romantic prince, but also seems to act like a cheesy fool in love, sketching you over and over and over … in his top secret sketchbook. one day, when he’s too busy blabbering about the logistics of the nth lost puzzle he found (and you’re too concentrated on pretending to listen to him), lumine wanders back to his tent, swiftly snatching his sketchbook and throwing it into her bag. once it’s time to head back down the mountain, she can’t stop giggling to herself, savoring the look you’ll have on your face once you’ll see the infinite sketches of you.

unsurprisingly, once she brings out the drawings you feel like fainting. THE albedo having a whole diary about you? you feel like you’re on cloud nine. this surely can’t be true, of course, he probably has one for each of his friends… thoughts like this go in and out of your brain as you scan the pages, before something catches your eye.

a portrait of you, with a cryo crystalfly peached on your nose. when did he even find the time to draw this? as your face reddens, your gaze drops to the corner of the page, met with a quickly scribbled caption…

mein schatz, sketch #88. lumine chuckles as you shriek — what’s left is getting either one of you to confess.

[case 001, SUCCES!]

case 002 — ZHONGLI

lumine is sure that she’d make a great detective. of course she would, she has an amazing eye for catching up with the feelings of those around her. you’re lucky she’s also incredibly patient — otherwise, she’d have already hypnotized you or something to make you admit your feelings for the wangsheng funeral parlor employee. yes, you’re awfully lucky, because she has now set her mind on setting up a date between you and none other than the geo archon himself, zhongli.

but how? you haven’t visited liyue in a while, and surely showing up for no apparent reason (even if she’s the hero of liyue! she doesn’t need any excuse!) would rise up some suspicions. wait, what is she thinking? of course she has a reason to visit liyue! this year lantern’s rite is just around the corner — and surely you won’t mind accompanying your best friend, right? plus, zhongli will be there too!

as you both reach liyue, all dolled up for the celebration, lumine quickly ushers you to wanmin restaurant, claiming that some of your friends are already there — what about her? of course, she’s busy with something, she’ll be right back! you can barely nod before being greeted by xinyan and yunjin, not noticing the funeral parlor director herself approaching lumine. little did you know, hu tao has already taken note of mr. zhongli’s fondness of you, especially since he’s been lamenting the lack of your presence more often.

sometimes even the best detectives need helpers, lumine thinks. hu tao will do for now. lumine can’t hide her excitement as they both start chattering about their foolproof plans for getting you and zhongli together — and apparently their giggles are too loud, or they said your name too many times… well, whatever it is, they’re screwed now. really screwed, lumine thinks, as she and hu tao turn around, met with yaoyao’s adorable doe eyes.

“big sis, miss hu tao, what are you talking about?”, she voices, her words laced with pure curiosity. “well, we uhm…”, lumine tries to scramble her thoughts together — if yaoyao spills the beans to her master cloud retainer, lumine’s sure that she’s done for, as xianyun would waste no time in chiding zhongli for not asking you out sooner.

“i mean, why are you hiding and talking about mr zhongli and miss y/n? if you have to tell them something, they’re both right there!”

right where? lumine and hu tao lock eyes, mirroring each other’s shocked expressions. as they turn around for what feels like ages, they’re met with a shocking sight (hu tao’s sure that she’s going to pass out).

surely enough, here you are, hand in hand with none other than zhongli himself, as he tells you about the history of the lantern rite. zhongli, for once, isn’t reminiscing with his eyes closed in reflection, but he’s looking right at you, with a deep, affectionate gaze. as he leans in to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, lumine feels like crying — what was the point in making all that effort if she was going to be beat by zhongli’s passion for history??

[case 002, FAIL-ish?]

[babvc-au]

Bendy pauses. “Holy water!?”

Cuphead raises a brow. “...Do you even have holy water?”

“…” Bendy hides a regular water bottle behind his back. “Yes…”

“...”

“Listen, I’m not here to—"

The front door clicks open. They both freeze.

Boris steps in, blinking at the scene before him. “Uh… Bendy? What are you doing?”

"I… huh!?" Bendy whipped his head to the side—He's gone!? His breath caught. Was he seeing things? Or was he just exhausted?

His mind races. Did I just imagine that? Am I going crazy?

Boris raises an eyebrow. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

Bendy forces a laugh. “Uh—yeah, I’m fine, haha.”

“You sure?”

Bendy sighs. “Yeah. Sorry if I’m freaking you out. I think I’ve just been really tired.”

Boris still looks unconvinced. “Then you should get some sleep tonight. I’ll cook breakfast in the morning if you want.”

Bendy musters a small smile. “Yeah… I’ll do that. And sure.”

Boris nods and heads toward the bathroom.

The moment the shower starts, Bendy hears a rustling sound. He looks down—his eyes widen in horror.

A bat is crawling out from under the couch.

“Boris—!” He yelps, only for a hand to slap over his mouth.

“Shh!”

Cuphead is back, standing over him with an annoyed glare.

Bendy stares, heart hammering.

"Hey, Bendy, have you seen my brush?" Boris calls from the bathroom.

Cuphead tightens his grip, eyes silently warning him before slowly letting go.

Bendy swallows hard. “I-it’s in the orange basket on the top shelf,” he calls back, not breaking eye contact.

The water runs in the background. Boris won’t be coming out for a while.

Cuphead takes a step back, arms crossed. "Listen. I'm not here to hurt you or your brother, got it? If I wanted to, I would've done it already. Like, I dunno… back in that alley when I saved your sorry hide."

Bendy swallows. “But—"

Cuphead cuts him off. “So now that we’ve got that settled, you better listen, because I’m not repeating myself.”

Bendy hesitates but nods.

“What you assume I am? You’re right. But I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m here on orders, investigating something-"

Bendy stares at him, still too stunned to process anything. He bearly listens, his voice fading into the background.

“-ay, now stand still.”

“Wh-what?”

Cuphead sighs deeply, realizing he wasn’t listening, stepping closer. "Ugh, just hold still!" Cuphead grabbed Bendy’s shoulders, forcing eye contact. His pupils gleamed red as he concentrated.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Nothing.

Cuphead’s frown deepened, why wasn’t it working?

Still nothing.

Bendy shifts awkwardly. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Cuphead lets go, looking frustrated. What’s up with this guy? No one can resists memory wiping...

Bendy clears his throat. "Um…"

Cuphead just stares at him, deep in thought.

Something isn’t adding up.

And with that, he suddenly vanished.

Bendy stood frozen in the middle of the room, his heart still hammering in his chest. His eyes flicked back to the spot where Cuphead had been just seconds ago. Gone. Just like that.

The room was quiet now—too quiet.

Bendy swallowed hard. His tail twitched. His hands clenched and unclenched as his mind scrambled for some kind of rational explanation.

Had that really just happened?

A vampire. A real, actual vampire had just been standing in his house. Had spoken to him. Had tried to—what? Hypnotize him? Erase his memory? They can do that right?

Bendy took a step back, his foot bumping into the couch. His legs felt like jelly.

What the hell is happening?

His brain felt like a tangled mess of wires, static buzzing in his ears. This wasn’t just some dream. He could still feel Cuphead’s grip on his shoulders, the intense weight of his stare.

Boris’ voice suddenly broke through his daze.

“Bendy?”

Bendy flinched.

Boris was standing at the hallway entrance, rubbing his damp fur with a towel, looking at Bendy with concern.

“You okay?” Boris frowned, glancing around the room. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Close enough, Bendy thought.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? That guy—the guy he’d briefly met just the other day—had just broken into their house? That he turned into a freaking bat and crawled out from under the couch like some horror movie monster?

Yeah, sure. Boris would totally believe that.

Bendy forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… just got lost in thought, I guess.”

Boris didn't look convinced. "You sure? You’re acting weird, bro."

Bendy exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to relax. “Nah, I’m fine. Just, uh… probably need some sleep like i said.”

Boris studied him for another moment before shrugging. “Alright. Just don’t stay up all night pacing. I swear, I heard you moving around the house at like three in the morning.”

Bendy stiffened.

He hadn't stayed up last night. He had been asleep before Boris even went to bed.

Bendy forced a grin. “Heh, yeah. No promises.”

Boris rolled his eyes but dropped it. “Just don’t pass out on the floor or something.” He turned and headed for his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence settled over the house again.

Bendy let out a shaky breath and ran a hand down his face. His fingers were trembling.

He needed to sit down.

Stumbling back onto the couch, he buried his face in his hands. His mind was racing, replaying the last few minutes over and over.

A vampire. A real vampire. And he was after something.

And for some reason… it had to do with him?

Bendy shuddered. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

He barely had time to process that thought before remembering something.

The kitchen window.

It was probably still cracked open.

A chill ran down his spine.

He got up and went into the kitchen.

Had he really left?

Or was he still watching?

Bendy quickly shut the window.

---

Scene 13:

A dim lantern flickered inside the small tent, casting long, restless shadows against the fabric walls. Felix sat hunched over a pile of books, his fur slightly ruffled, exhaustion lining his face. The night outside was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves.

His ear twitched.

A sound—faint footsteps crunching the forest floor.

Felix tensed, eyes flicking toward the tent’s entrance. His hand hovered near the edge of his book, ready to slam it shut.

Then, a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Hey, Feel. How you holding up? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

Felix’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He turned to see Sheba, standing just outside the tent flap. Her brown eyes reflected the lantern’s glow, warm yet cautious.

“Oh, Sheba… I’m—” He hesitated, looking away. “I’m alright. Just, looking still. Y'know?”

Sheba stepped inside, her movements careful as if afraid of disturbing something fragile. She could tell he was on edge. It's one of those nights probably. She could just feel it.

“Feel, I told you this once, but I’ll tell you again—” She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “What happened back then… that wasn’t your fault...”

Felix stiffened.

"I know..."

Sheba looked over his face carefully, seeing his growing distraught.

"Do... you want to talk about it?"

A flash of crimson. A scream. The overwhelming pull of something dark surging inside him.

He shut his eyes. His claws subtly dug into the pages of his book.

“I …” His voice came out hoarse. “I would rather not talk about it."

Sheba sighed but nodded. She’d learned when not to push.

Instead, she knelt beside him, her eyes scanning the mess of books. Some were old and tattered, barely holding together, while others had frantic scribbles lining the margins.

“Still burying yourself in these, huh?” She picked up a book and flipped through it idly. “Find anything useful in'em?”

Felix exhaled, quickly flicking theough pages. “No. Just the same dead ends.” His tail flicked in frustration. “It’s like chasing a ghost. I know the book exists. I know what it looks like. But finding it? That’s another story.”

He leaned back, running a hand through his fur. “I’ve already searched every library in town. There’s one left, but if I don’t find anything there, I’ll have to move on to the next city.”

Sheba studied him, her expression unreadable. She’d known Felix for years, long enough to recognize the weight in his voice. The way his exhaustion wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper. Something that had been gnawing at him for far too long.

She set the book down gently. “Then I guess we better hope that last library’s got what you need.”

Felix gave a small, tired chuckle. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The lantern flickered. Outside, the wind rustled the leaves again, like whispers in the dark.

Sheba glanced at Felix one last time before turning toward the entrance.

“…Just don’t forget, Feel,” she murmured. “You’re not in this alone.”

She stepped outside, leaving him in the soft glow of the lantern and the quiet hum of unread words.

Felix sat there for a long moment, staring at the book in his lap.

Then, with a slow breath, he turned the page.

Alrighty Folks! The Time Has Finally Come!

Hopefully this is everything and i didn't miss any panels or doodles for this post, but here is almost everything about BABVC's comic sketches, wips, doodles, refs, and even scripts i never finished, plus more! Doodles and other art stuff will be added to the end of this post. (Due to how many wips i have and such, there will be multiple reblogs happening as i go through this so bare with me.)

So, did you want to know how BaBvc would have went? Here's your answer. (This will contain a mix of the script, old comic wips and context)

Now, well jump to where we left off in the comic with a smol refresher.

Scene 6 Nightmare:

It's dark and bendy is in a black like void. He hears voices.

"Why? You had a chance!" OB growls.

"Who's there!?" Bendy shouts.

"Why did you resist?" OB

"What?"

Bendy's eyes are suddenly covered by cold clawed hands. And he tries to pry them off.

"Why!?" OB

"What are you talking about?! Who are you!" Bendy growls trying to fight them off.

"Don't keep me waiting much longer" we see the claws retract and three tails around Bendy.

"I'm sick of waiting"

The last shot is of Bendy's demon cross eye.

“But, how…?”

He hears a yawn from Boris as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “good morning, Bendy”

Boris blinks at Bendy’s hand and the bag, "You better not eat that so early in the morning, Bendy.” Boris scolded, ears pinned back.

“What? No, i wouldn't do that. But...” Bendy says, looking at the can thoughtfully. "Did you get some more after last night…?" He asked the tall wolf. Boris raised a brow at him, confused. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. "That's the same bag from last night when we went to the market right?" He asked. 

"Well yeah but, I lost it, remember?" Bendy said and looked up at his younger brother. Boris stares at him in confusion. "...You did?" He asked. 

Camera focuses on the can in his hand.

Scene 8:

Bendy and Boris enter Berry cafe and take a seat at a booth.

"So you honestly don't remember?" Bendy starts looking across the table to his younger brother.

"I really don't. I only remember us getting the stuff, and then after that, it's all blurry. Like I blacked out or something, and then it was morning." Boris replied. "Are you sure you didn't just imagine you lost it? Maybe it was a dream that you had last night." He points out.

"..." Bendy thinks, "Maybe you're right. I've been having weird dreams, and I guess it's possible." He says tiredly. "Though it really felt like I wasn't dreaming." He mumbled to himself.

Then Melody comes around shortly after and asks them what they would like to order. "Hello, welcome to Berry's Cafe. What would you - oh! It's you two, the usual then?" She smiles and lifts her paper and pen.

Bendy lifts his head and gives a small smile. "Ah, yeah, for me, at least. Boris?" He looks over expectantly for his order.

"Oh! um, what's the special today?"

"New York cheesecake drizzled in strawberries and syrup, it's so good!" she smiles and hugs her notepad dreamily.

Boris perks at that smiling "Guess I know what I'm getting now, (haha) and can I get a hot coco with that, thanks Melody."

"No problem! I'll put your order in right away." She nods and walks away allowing Bendy to see the other residents in the cafe. And surprisingly enough he sees someone familiar. His eyes widened a little, shocked.

(Isn't that-?)

Bendy looks at his right wrist and rubs it lightly.

(So it hadn't been a dream? I should probably thank him.)

Bendy stood, making Boris look at him. "Bendy?"

"I'll be back."

Bendy walks away and heads for the familiar person.

"Uh, Hey." he says. Catching Cupheads attention who opens his eyes. He looks a little confused and shocked to see Bendy for a moment.

"I wanted to say thanks for the other night you really helped me back there." Bendy says looking to the side awkwardly.

Cuphead says nothing for a minute. His shock turns to annoyance.

"Yeah, whatever, watch yourself, you're lucky I found you when I did." Cuphead says with a steady look. "Didn't your mom teach you not to walk around at night by yourself?"

"It's dangerous." He glares, narrowing his eyes.

Bendy furrows his brows at the semi aggressive tone. "Hey, I came to thank you, not get a lecture! And I wasn't by myself."

"..."

"Anyway like I said, thank you, seriously." Bendy frowned.

Cuphead stands up and looks down at Bendy, who looks up at him in return nervously as they stare at each other.

"Here you go sir, your order." Tostie says, giving Cuphead two drinks.

"Thanks," he says.

She walks away.

"There you are, Cuppy!" A new voice sounds in the cafe besides Bendy.

Mugs comes over and stands by his brother's side. Who gives him an exhausted look.

"Here." Cuphead hands him the second drink.

"Oh! Were you in the middle of something?" Mugs looks between Bendy and Cuphead.

Cuphead gives Bendy another glare.

"No. Let's go." He walks off, but Mugs falters and gives Bendy a nervous smile and a wave before he follows.

"Geez, what a jerk." (At least the other guy was nice) Bendy sweats but shrugs it off heading back to Boris.

"Was that someone you knew?"

"Uh, not exactly," Bendy says as he slides back into the booth.

It's silent for a moment before Boris speaks up.

"Bendy, listen, I know you're just as confused as I am, but you haven't told me a single thing about what happened last night, I was really worried about you."

"I know, I promise to tell you when I've made sense of it, ok? Just… give me some time."

Boris sighs, "...Ok"

Bendy looks away and out the window covered in fog with a thoughtful look. It starts to snow a little.

Scene 9

Cuphead glares ahead. (The hell? Did I not wipe his memory correctly? And what's with that weird smell?) He rubs his nose.

Mugman watches him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cuphead mutters. “I just need to go to the casino… again.”

Mugman frowns. “Huh? Why?”

“I’ll tell you later—unless you wanna come with me.”

Mugman hesitates, then nods. “Mmm… I’ll go with you.” Cuphead glances at him, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he keeps walking.

(Que this scene where they report to The Devil about Bendy being immune to memory wiping)

"Sir, I've come to report something." [Kneeling]

"What is it?"

"There's someone i met that's immune to memory wiping."

"..."

"Is that so..."

(Thus, The Devil orders Cuphead to keep an eye on Bendy and to report back if anything happens.)

Scene 12

Cuphead (bat form) climbs through the crack of the window in the kitchen. He hops to the ground and transforms back into his toon form. He dusts himself off and then looks up. Unexpectedly Bendy was in the doorway and saw everything.

(Que a funny nervous Bendy stares and throws a mug at Cuphead.)

Bendy runs to his couch and starts his spiel.

"What are you doing in my house!? Are you going to kill me!? You're a vampire! Aren't you supposed to stay out of houses unless you're invited!? Or something!?

"Huh?"

"Wait a minute, vampires have other weaknesses! I think I have a few things!"

Bendy runs out of the room, and Cuphead is left in confusion.

"Okay...this is weird." -sigh-

Bendy comes in and out with various "vampire deterrents"

"Garlic!?"

"No"

"A cross!?"

"Nope"

"A stake!?" (It's a twig)

"Na-da"

"Sunlight!?" (Its a flashlight.)

"Did you forget you saw me at the café?"

[pinkpastels113]

help-

Chloe knows that she shouldn’t be enjoying this.

She knows, and yet.

(And yet it feels so good.)

Her fangs sink further into the man’s neck with which she is sucking his blood from. It explodes in her mouth, smoothing over her tongue and sliding down her throat with every long draw from his veins. It feels so good to finally be able to do something about this hunger in her stomach, the almost insatiable desire for human blood that comes around annually without fail on All Hallow’s Eve. 

Especially on someone who deserved it.

[musubiki]

i want lime to tell mochi shes pretty 🥺

I DO TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

what im realizing about lime more and more (and especially in contrast to taffy) is how uhhh not vocal he is about how he feels when it comes to romantic emotions (which i know isnt a big surprise but ive been meditating on it A LOT recently, and actually working it into his character a lot more. i am increasing the romantic muzzle on him)

so SAME I WANT HIM TO SO BAD!!!!!!!!!! and it would take SO MUCH for him to work up enough guts to say it to her (even if its a short 2 second sentence or something)

but what sucks is that mochi will still think hes just saying it to be nice or to make her feel better, so shed smile and say like "haha thanks" to move the conversation away from it, but he could TELL RIGHT AWAY that she doesnt believe him and essentially dismissed it and it PISSES HIM OFF SO BAD!!!!! HES LIKE "I was struggling for THREE DAYS to figure out how to tell her or if I should tell her and I get a shitty 'haha thanks'??? Shes just brushing it off???!!"

which would actually probably lead to a really cute moment because the irritation would fuel him enough to grab her arm and DRILL IT INTO HER HEAD that hes not kidding or saying it to be nice or something. think full on, youre-the-most-beautiful-thing-ive-ever-seen-in-my-life-any-guy-would-chop-off-his-own-arm-just-to-speak-to-you-for-five-seconds-youre-so-drop-dead-gorgeous kind of rambling, the whole time her face is like. slowly increase the saturation slider to red.

and it starts getting into DANGEROUS territory for him because hes not necessarily filtering anything hes saying and it starts to sound a little less like "You are an objectively pretty girl" speech, and sounds more like a "I am attracted to you" kind of speech

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

not me curling my laptop charger wire the way you curl band equipment cords HAHAHA god i miss it

[tobyneedssleep]

There’s two canon versions of Anti, then I have my multiple au versions of Anti who could not be any fucking different from canon, and THEN i have the version of Anti that exists in my brain who just somehow manages to be his own creature entirely. what the fuck.

[lesbiansanemi]

Bad day. Horrible awful terrible bad day

[idkimoutofideas]

I had a dream that Aabria knew Jeanette McCurdy and somehow convinced her to do a season on Dimension 20

I don’t remember the characters or setting but I remember being really excited for it

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[inbabylontheywept]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.