#if I want my teeth to stay where they are

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

cw - yandere behavior, choso doing perverted stuff, bondage, problematic behaviors, smut, mdni, not proofread

imagining you and sick pervert!choso being roommates in an apartment together.

sick pervert!choso doesn’t like when you leave the apartment. he has some form of separation anxiety when it comes to you, but actually, he just loathes the idea that other people are getting to see you when he can’t.

sick pervert!choso who sets a curfew for you to help “ease his worries”. you agree because you like the fact that someone is watching out for you.

sick pervert!choso who ties you up to his bed when you break curfew one night. he doesn’t even touch you inappropriately. he just keeps you right where you belong: in his room.

sick pervert!choso who coos sweet condescending words to you while you’re tied up in his bed. “you know why i had to tie you up, don’t you?” you swallow thickly and nod your head. your eyes are glassed over from tears and the alcohol you had consumed earlier in the night.

sick pervert!choso who assures you that he forgives you for staying out past curfew. “it’s okay, baby. don’t cry. i just needed you to stay here with me for a little while, okay?”

sick pervert!choso who keeps you tied up until the next morning. he only unties you to lead you to the bathroom. he cares for you so tenderly as you shower and brush your teeth, but it’s right back to being tied down to the bed after your little break.

sick pervert!choso who admires you while you sleep. he loves how soft and vulnerable you look. it makes his dick twitch in his boxers, and he doesn’t understand why. he just knows he has to take his own bathroom break now.

sick pervert!choso who finally lets you go after a full day of being tied up, but he gives you big puppy dog eyes the moment you try to go to your own room, so of course, you sit with him and let him kiss the rope burns on your wrists.

sick pervert!choso who has a love/hate relationship with your job. he hates the fact that he has to share you with your job, and he hates that other men get to look at you while you work. what if they start getting the idea that they actually have a chance with you? then, choso will have to kick their teeth in :(

sick pervert!choso who also loves the time you’re gone sometimes because that’s when he gets to go shopping in your room! he breaks in, and he only steals a few things… like your used panties.

sick pervert!choso who will spray your perfume against his pillows while your gone. he will have a pillow with your perfume shoved against his nose while he chokes his throbbing cock with your panties.

sick pervert!choso who makes it a mission to fuck all of your used panties, leaving behind globs of cum in the crotch portion as he cries out your name however loud he wants to because you’re at your stupid job.

sick pervert!choso who noticed you’re taking far too long at work one evening. he’s blown up your phone with texts, and he finally checks the apple tag on your car that he accidentally left behind between the seats. you’re at a bar… without notifying him first.

sick pervert!choso who paces around the apartment all night, debating on just showing up at the bar, but he knows you’ll be upset with him for stalking you. his heart leaps into his throat as he hears the door open up.

sick pervert!choso has your back pressed against the door in record time. his nose is buried in your neck and shoulder as he’s trying to smell for anyone else’s scent on you. “where were you, baby? i was worried…”

“my boss brought us all out for drinks since we hit a big deadline, chocho. i’m sorry. my phone died.” you say as you rub his back, trying to soothe him from how tore up he was.

sick pervert!choso who leads you up to his room anyways to tie you up. you should’ve known better than to keep him worried and waiting like this! now he’s all pent up with too much possessive energy… he needs to see you bound to his bed to ease his anxiety.

sick pervert!choso forgot to hide the evidence of his activities all day. a few pairs of your panties are scattered around the floor, and he immediately tries to do damage control, but it’s too late. you already saw them.

“chocho, is this why my panties always go missing?” you ask as you pick up your favorite white cotton pair. you hold up the pair for him to stare at it with guilt in his eyes.

“i try to always return them!” he says with a small pout. “they smell like you. it helps me…”

sick pervert!choso who’s terrified that you’re going to give him a look of disgust. he knows that you’re going to hate him forever for being so sick and demented. he doesn’t want to have to, but he will drug you to keep you here with him. he loves that you stay willingly, but he’ll do whatever he has to do to keep you by his side.

“you do this while i’m at work?” you ask slowly. choso can’t see an ounce of disgust in your face.. only curiosity and something he can’t quite put his finger on.

after gathering his confidence, he finally nods his head, “and sometimes while you’re asleep…”

sick pervert!choso who’s awe struck when he watches you slide your panties out from underneath that sinful pencil skirt you wear to work. he’s nearly drooling out of his mouth as he looks at the pink lacy fabric.

“you want them?” you coax, and he’s quick to nod. the thought of being able to feel and smell them while they’re still fresh and warm… he’s about to cum in his pants from the thought.

“i’ll give them to you if you agree not to tie me up tonight,” you bargain with a knowing smile. “i also want to watch,”

holy shit. sick pervert!choso’s heart is hammering through his chest. this is like a fantasy come true. he reaches out and takes the panties from you, and he’s quick to hold them over his nose.

he groans and palms his throbbing dick through his pants as your scent fills his nose. he takes another deep breath, committing the scent of your pussy to his memory. he’s never experienced anything this divine in his life.

you sit on his computer chair as you watch your roommate fall apart over a simple pair of your panties.

you cross your legs together, watching as choso’s eyes are resting on you. he pulls out his massive cock, and be strangles the lacy pink fabric over it. he then slowly wraps his hand around the pace, and he fucks himself into your panties.

it’s truly a sight for sore eyes. choso’s leaned against his bed, whining and whimpering pathetically as he claims your panties again and again. he wishes he could shove the pillow over his nose, but then, that would block his perfect view of you.

sick pervert!choso would’ve never expected for his sweet roommate to react the way you do to the sight of him fisting his cock with your panties.

“fuck,” he growls, and he pumps his dick faster. the fabric is becoming slick with his own pre-cum. “you want me to mark your panties like this, baby?” he asks, managing to dirty talk you without stuttering or whimpering.

“yes,” you barely whisper. you’re so caught up in the sight of him — you almost forgot to reply to him.

his hips start to raise with each pump, and he feels himself getting close. he grips his cock tighter, imagining it was you gripping him like a vice while he fucks your tight pussy until you forget your own name.

a moment later, he groans as he quickly aims his cock, and he cums all over the crotch of your panties. rope after rope of his cum cover the pink fabric until it’s a sticky mess.

he pants as he looks over at you, and his heart is elated by the fact that you look just as desperate as he feels.

sick pervert!choso knows he could he making a mistake, but he takes a leap of faith based off your facial expression. “put them on,” he roughly demands, holding out your freshly ruined panties to you.

your eyes widen, and you look up at him with a little bit of uncertainty. however, you know you two are on a path of depravity now that you watched him claim your panties. you slowly take the panties from him, and you carefully slide them up your legs.

a moan escapes your lips as you feel his warm arousal press against you. it’s sticky and wet. it’s slightly uncomfortable, yet you’ve never been more turned on in your life. it was like a raw act of deprivation as you wore your panties that he had soiled.

“you like that, baby?” he asks, and he can’t help the small tremble in his voice. he desperately wants you to like it as much as he likes it. he’s enamored by the sight of your thighs clenching together. he might just make you wear the panties for the rest of the night.

you nod shyly with a small hum.

sick pervert!choso who never knew his roommate was a secret deviant freak until he watched you sit in panties filled with his cum all night long.

sick pervert!choso who falls even more in love with you after feeling so raw and close to you, and he has no idea that you have plans to ask him to use your panties while you’re wearing them next time <3

[missdynamighttt]

kickin my feet and shi thinkin abt husband! katsuki not leaving without his goodbye kiss from his wife, even after an argument.

you stood by the kitchen counter with your arms crossed, still fuming from the argument that had erupted the night before.

katsuki, equally stubborn, was getting ready for work, his movements a little harsher than usual as he shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his keys.

neither of you had really spoken since the fight. it was stupid, really—something about schedules and plans.

"gotta go."

you heard the jingle of his keys as he walked toward the door. for a moment, you thought he was just going to leave. good. let him leave. maybe a day apart would cool both of you down.

but then, he just stopped.

you didn’t turn around, but you felt his presence by the door, unmoving. you were about to glance over your shoulder when his voice broke the silence.

“where’s my kiss?”

your heart stuttered. slowly, you turned to face him. "excuse me?"

"you heard me," katsuki grumbled, his ears tinged pink. "you always give me a kiss before i leave. so... where is it?"

your lips parted in disbelief. “we just argued for the whole night and you want a kiss?"

"yeah, and? doesn’t mean you can skip it."

the audacity. the nerve. you opened your mouth to tell him off, but the stubborn, almost childlike look on his face made your resolve crack.

he was dead serious. this man could be furious with you—could spend hours brooding in stony silence—but he still needed his goodbye kiss like it was a non-negotiable part of his day.

"katsuki, i’m still pissed at you."

"and i’m still pissed at you," he shot back, brows furrowing. "but we don’t leave without a goodbye kiss. that’s our thing and i’m not leavin’ without it."

he looked genuinely annoyed—and not just because of the argument.

ever since you’d started dating, no matter how bad the fight, you never let each other leave without a kiss. this was the kind of annoyance he reserved for things that threw him off his routine.

and apparently, your daily goodbye kiss was part of that routine.

still, you stayed put, stubborn as fuck. he shifted, gripping the keys tightly in his hand like it was the only thing stopping him from marching across the room.

you saw the conflict flash in his eyes—pride battling something softer.

"just...” he finally muttered, voice low and rough. “c’mere. please.”

that single, reluctant please just broke you.

with an exasperated sigh, you stomped over to him. he watched you carefully, guarded but hopeful. you stopped just inches away, folding your arms.

“this doesn’t mean i’m not still mad,” you mumbled.

“i know,” he said softly.

you placed your hands on his chest and stood on your tiptoes, giving him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. or at least, you tried to. as you pulled away, his hand shot out, cupping the back of your neck.

“oi,” he said, voice losing its earlier irritation. “that ain’t a real kiss.”

you glared up at him, ready to argue, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart stutter. his thumb brushed the side of your neck as his grip softened.

"even if we fight," he muttered, voice lower now, "i still love ya. and i still want my kiss."

your chest tightened. damn him for being sweet after pissing you off.

you leaned in again, pressing your lips to his more firmly this time. he responded immediately, mouth warm against yours, his hand cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

it wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, almost punishing. his teeth scraped your bottom lip, and his tongue pushed into your mouth like he was trying to kiss the fight right out of you.

when you pulled away, his expression had softened, the hard lines of frustration melting into something quieter.

"i love you." he kissed your forehead, then straightened. “well?”

you raised an eyebrow. “well, what?”

his gaze darkened. “say it.”

you roll your eyes dramatically. "say what?"

his jaw clenched. "say you love me too. you don’t get to leave me hangin’ after all that kissin’ shit.”

a smirk tugged at your lips. oh, he was really fishing for it now. “i love you too, okay?”

the words barely left your mouth before his hand shot out, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you toward him.

"good," he muttered, before slamming his lips against yours in a another kiss that left you breathless. it wasn’t sweet or gentle—it was hungry, desperate, like he was trying to make up for lost time.

“wait, katsuki, you’re gonna be late—” you gasped against his mouth as his hands roamed down your body.

“fuck work. i’m late anyway," you tried to speak again, but he kissed you so hard it left no room for words.

the argument? forgotten. work? completely irrelevant. all that mattered was the way he was making you feel in that moment, pulling you closer, making your head spin.

his hands tugged at your clothes with an urgency that told you he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

“got better things to do while my girl is pissed at me.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hi everyone!! js wanna put this out as a thank you for the 2k follows, oh my gosh i am beyond happy i made it this far. hope yall stick around for more^^

[reverseblackholeofwords]

So I once went to a very disconcerting ramen restaurant where I and my friend are the only persons there besides one (1) waitress who clearly doesn't want to be there and a couple on a date that look very much like a guy in his late forties or fifties and a maybe-nineteen college student but I digress.

The floor is too shiny, the walls are red. There are mirrors behind a bar reflecting down at us from a very Dutch angle. We seat ourselves after the waitress glares at us and informs us that she doesn't care where we sit in a tone that very much implies she would prefer we drop straight to hell. Now I'm not a person who really cares about the over friendliness of waitresses but we are bordering on openly hostile here and we haven't even sat down.

She then disappears into the back and music starts over the sound system. Playing, I kid you not, The Twin Peaks Intro Music. She returns with menus, and I ask - honestly "befuddled" is the only appropriate word - "Is this the Twin Peaks theme?"

And she smiles at me, unblinking and with way more teeth than is generally considered socially acceptable, like I've passed some secret test, and for the rest of the time we're there, she's perfectly nice to us. But the couple in the corner have a very terse and awkward date, all of which we can't help but overhear, before they leave separately. And the music stays uncomfortably Twin Peaks themed. No one else enters the entire time we're there, even though it's prime time for dinner and the street outside is busy.

We get up, we pay, and as soon as we leave, I get a killer migraine that lasts for three hours. Weirdest most disconcerting restaurant experience of my life, but also the best ramen I've ever had hands down.

A restaurant named You're Not Supposed To Be Here, where the whole point is that the vibes are unnerving. The lighting is weird, the whole place has a faint scent that's not a bad smell, but it's certainly not food smell and you can't quite identify what the hell it is. The music is weirdly janky and you can't quite tell what's wrong with it, the vocals aren't exactly garbled but sung in a language you swear you've never heard anywhere and couldn't name if you tried. Only hiring staff who have anxiety and they're 100% permitted to show how much your presence here stresses them out.

[rollingeevee]

Wait if we have the Beasts bites what about Anciens?

Maybe in AU where they also corrupted or smth like that, how would their bites be like? (Ofc u don’t have to answer that im just dumping my ideas here xd)

I actually think I have an ask about Ancients somewhere else in my ask box that I plan to answer soon (they don’t have a bite but they do have smth similar in a way) but you specifically mentioned corrupted Ancients. And that inspired me… SO HAVE A TRUTHLESS RECLUSE X READER ONESHOT! MUAHAHAHA

Warnings: A lil suggestive?

“Pure Vanilla, please!” You begged your lover. “Our friends need our help! I don’t understand how you can just sit here and refuse to acknowledge that!”

Pure Vanilla, or Truthless Recluse as he’d renamed himself, remained silent. He stared intently at you, a gaze that used to be so warm and filled with care and life, now reduced to tired, intimidating darkness.

As you pleaded with the one you adored so dearly, fallen to Deceit, his mind swam with thoughts. Shadow Milk had allowed your stay in the Spire with him for a reason yet unknown to you. But the reason was becoming apparent to Pure Vanilla. Shadow Milk knew of the relationship between the two of you, and he knew that with corruption now plaguing the Truthless Recluse’s heart, it would only be a matter of time before the once compassionate Cookie found himself overcome with that Beastly urge to bite. And Shadow Milk, ever the lover of theatrics, wanted to see the once so pure Cookie give into his new, corrupted urges. To embrace the inner Beast that he knew lay dormant within.

He was taken out of his thoughts when you announced that, if he wouldn’t help you, you would find and help the young Cookies on your own. He seemed to snap to life at that declaration.

His arms were around you before you could reach the door, pulling, almost yanking, you back into the depths of the room Shadow Milk had provided for him. You turned to face him with a scowl. “Pure Vanilla, let me go!”

“Stay.” Was his only response, though it was more of a command than anything. His tone had lost the warmth you’d come to know and love from it, replaced by a cool, possessive rumble from deep within his chest that seemed to vibrate your entire body.

Your expression became desperate. “Please, my love…” your voice was quiet and despairing. “Please… let me go… or come with me… I cannot allow Shadow Milk to torment those poor children who have done so much to help you… to help us…”

His grip tightened. “You’re not going anywhere.” He asserted.

“Pure Vanilla-”

“Don’t leave me…” His voice was but a whisper this time, far less oppressive and dominating than his previously issued orders. Almost�� vulnerable. You felt a spark of longing familiarity in your heart. You raised your eyes to look into his own. Those tired, beaten eyes shimmered with anguish and a helpless need for your presence. Pure Vanilla was still in there… somewhere… buried deep, surely, but he was there.

With soft eyes, you turned your body to face his and wrapped your arms around him in a hug. He nuzzled his face against the top of your head, nose buried in your hair. He sat down upon his bed, dragging you down to straddle his lap so that he could hide his face in the crook of your neck. As he breathed in your scent, the muscles of his body seemed to relax. It was another glimpse of the Pure Vanilla you knew and loved, further solidifying your belief that the Cookie you adored still existed amongst the corruption. But your focus on this caused you to fail to catch the feeling of his lips twitching against your dough.

What little was left of Pure Vanilla in the corrupted cookie urged him to stay calm. To resist. But Truthless Recluse could no longer fight the urge to bare his new fangs…

You heard your lover suck in a breath through his parting teeth. His body felt tense again, now feeling akin to a predator poised to strike. Before you could figure out what was about to happen, he sank them into your soft dough with a hiss. You cried out as the area was flooded with a chilling cold that quickly spread throughout your body like a potent venom. You felt him exhale through his nose in what seemed like relief, the urge that had been gnawing at him since he fell into Deceit finally sated. You weakly whined as he swiped his tongue across the fresh mark that seemed to pulse with magic, unable to move as he pulled you so close that there was no longer any space between your bodies.

“All mine…”

[bunbundubdub]

Below The Belt - Caleb Chapter 1

At this point I should make the phrase 'this story kinda turned out far longer than planned' my catchphrase because oopsie it happened once again. Happy reading! TW: Caleb being pent up and desperate, dry humping to completion, inexperienced idiots in love, Caleb is a virgin, biting, grabbing hard enough to bruise ------------------------------

That Caleb loved you with every atom of his being was a fact that no one could deny. While his recent career change had turned him into a sharper, ruthless man when it came to his subordinates, not to mention his enemies, once your name was spoken, it was as if the sun broke through the endless clouds.

With you he was always so incredibly gentle, most of those who knew him now wouldn't believe that this puppy of a man was the same no nonsense Colonel they were used to.

And this gentleness translated into the bedroom just as much. At least for the time being. For the longest time even his biggest desire was sated just by you saying his name with that voice reserved just for him.

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest when you first gave him an embrace, something you didn't give a second thought, just so happy that he finally won you that plushie you wanted to much that you couldn't help but throw your arms around his neck and squeeze him until he could barely breathe.

He still remembered your faint scent that clung to his shirt all day.

Then you kissed him and he thought his time had come, that someone had decided to end his miserable existence and allow him to pass through the pearly gates at last. But as he opened his eyes again, there you were, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and grinning like the idiot in love that you were.

He in turn looked at you like he had just had the epiphany of a lifetime. Like he had just gotten the answers to all the questions he could ever ask and more still. Then he took his chance and kissed you back.

Where your kiss had been gentle and careful, a cautious testing of the waters so to speak, his was hungry, demanding and overwhelming all at once. His hands that had rested at his side immediately grabbed at your hips, nearly yanking you off your feet as he pulled you as close as he physically could, before tangling his left hand in your hair and descending down on your lips.

He knew his skills were more than unrefined, merely gathered by the glimpses of couples as he passed by them and some videos he refused to admit to watching. As corrupted as he had become as a person, in his eyes the love he had longed to shower you with for as long as he could remember, was as pure as fresh snow fluttering from the winter sky.

His restraint, trained and perfected over the years, shattered in an instant and you could barely say that he was kissing you, he was devouring you. Teeth would clash, his tongue was as invading as it was demanding and once he had crowded you against the wall, it was hard to tell where you ended and Caleb began.

His lips wouldn't stay idle once you had managed to get him to part for a moment to catch your breath. Feeling like he had been given full reign the moment you had kissed him, his lips would travel to your cheeks, your temples, your jaw, your neck, really just any place he could reach.

How to cover up the marks he was leaving on your collarbones and chest was the last thing on your mind as his hands began to explore as well. While yours were firmly planted on his broad chest, one daring to travel up to tangle in his dark hair, his were far more unrestrained.

While still squeezing your hip the hand on the nape of your neck steadily descended downwards, coming to rest on your behind, the fingers of his left hand digging into the muscle for a moment before the right hand joined in and he lifted you up.

Given his lack of experience and all the pent up feelings and desires he had bottled up inside him for all these years, the second he pinned your core against the wall with his hips, fingers now kneading your thighs, he was as good as gone.

You could clearly feel what your body was doing to his, the stiff bulge still contained by his pants rubbing against you harshly. For now he was too far gone in the moment to think of anything else but to finally find release with your body, in which way he didn't care too much about.

He could barely hear the moans leaving your mouth as his was still attached to your chest like a leech, as the friction from his relentless hips and the intensity of the moment brought you closer and closer as well.

Caleb reached his end with an almost violent tremble, biting harshly into the junction between your neck and shoulder, his fingers almost definitely leaving bruises from how hard he was gripping you and maybe it was this combination of pain and the pleasure of his minstrations or maybe even the desperate groan that bordered on a sob that left his throat, but he quickly pulled you over the edge with him.

He apologized profusely afterwards, mortified by how quickly he had lost control and how far he had things allowed to go, but you were having none of it. There was no trace of the confident and sometimes even cocky man that had fought his way past his gentle behaviour, just a man hopelessly overwhelmed and in love, looking for reassurence in your eyes.

Caleb refused to leave your side for even a second for the rest of the night.

[matchpointfaist]

why do fools fall in love? 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

riff lorton x rich girl! reader

riff lorton hated a lot of things. he hated his birthday, holidays, cops, unsweet tea, the sharks, his parents. more than anything, he hated all the summer birds, the richer than god families that poured into manhattan every year, staying in their summer homes and driving their summer cars and flaunting all their summer money. he hated the way they flounced around the city, going to the drive-in in their convertibles, showing off at all the clubs with their pristine clothes, forever serving as a reminder of everything he could never be.

he knew they looked down on him, saw the way their noses scrunched as he walked past, the way they clutched their purses tighter and avoided eye contact. he hated that a small part of him yearned to have what they did; not necessarily the money, but the company. they were always together, all the perfect parents with their two perfect children and the way they all got along perfectly well. he knew he’d never have it, and he told himself he didn’t want it, but each time he saw their smiling faces, he knew it wasn’t true.

your family got to town in june of 1957, moving into your summer house just on the edge of the city, a massive white victorian with bright blue shutters and an equally bright car parked in the driveway. the first night, you begged your parents to let you go to the fair until they eventually gave in, sending you on your way.

it was there that riff first saw you, his eyes finding yours through the crowd as he hung back near the fence, smoking and people watching. he knew he shouldn’t even give you a second look- you were everything he resented, he could tell from your shiny white teeth and your starched skirt and your little kitten heels.

you were with a group of other kids he’d grown to hate, surrounded by people he’d never know, laughing at some undoubtedly stupid joke. the sound carried, and he tried to pretend it didn’t warm his chest to hear it, to pretend he didn’t want to become the cause of it.

the evening went on, and he tried not to watch you, busying himself with rolling cigarettes and talking to the guys. you went off with some guy after a couple hours, and he pretended it didn’t bother him. he was just about to leave when he heard it- your voice, sharper and louder than he’d previously heard it.

“get off of me!” you nearly yelled, and his brows furrowed, turning the corner to look for the source of the commotion. the guy, someone he didn’t recognize, was grinning like an idiot and grabbing at you and your cheeks were pink, your eyes teary as you pushed him off, breathing so rapidly riff could see from across the alley.

“hey! get off her!” he was on the guy before he could think, shoving him back roughly, “get lost,” he practically scrambled away, the intimidating demeanor he’d had with you melted away, leaving a scared little boy behind.

“are you alright?” riff hoped his tone had softened as he turned to you, where you sat, smoothing your skirt with trembling hands. “yes, thank you,” you nodded, wiping your eyes carefully, “he didn’t- he just tried,”

his chest ached as he watched you, and before he could remind himself he was supposed to hate you, he slid down to sit beside you, offering up the only clean handkerchief he had in his pocket. you took it with a small smile, wiping your cheeks before returning it to him, “thank you, really. you didn’t have to do that,”

“course i did,” he shrugged, his eyes trained on the small spot of lipstick you’d smeared onto the cloth, “he shouldn’t have touched you. i’m riff, by the way. you’re not from around here, are you?”

you shook your head with a little laugh, introducing yourself, “i’m just here for the summer. my family’s from boston,” you glanced down at the thin watch on your wrist, cursing under your breath as you saw the time, “i’m so sorry, i have to go, i’m late. i’ll see you around, riff!” you stood with a hurry, wiping your skirt and picking you purse up.

“wait!” he stood beside you, “i’ll walk you home, you shouldn’t be out this late alone,” to his surprise, you immediately accepted, smiling and thanking him and god; you looked so pretty with your hand wrapped around his arm, and you smelled so good and he knew this was wrong, that he should just let you go, that the two of you could never be together.

but he kept walking you, kept listening to you chatter about how happy you were to be summering here, how happy you were that you made a friend. him, your friend? he nearly laughed, but he just smiled and nodded. when you arrived at your driveway, he tried not to let his demeanor shift too much at the sight of the massive house, the pristine condition of it.

“i’ll see you around, right?” you asked, sounding slightly hopeful, and he decided to just go with it. sure, he hated everything your presence stood for. but he couldn’t hate you, with your shining smile and kind words and soft touch. so he nodded again, “i’ll see you. goodnight,”

he watched until you closed the door behind you, shaking his head at the way he felt like a lovesick fool, the way you’d broken down the walls he’d so carefully built in just one night.

[lsunstreakerl]

more scrapbook paper max. be gentle with him please, he doesn't get enough hugs.

"Max. Maaaaaaax."

Someone is nudging their toe into Max's thigh.

He cracks an eye open, disoriented. There's something thudding against the warm wall behind his back, and he's sitting on cool tile. The room has a greenish hue.

"You better not be dead, I need to interview you for my assignment."

He's in the laundry room. Why is he in the laundry room?

"-We're supposed to interview an upperclassman and ask about their school life balance, and the internship work, and the battleworks stuff-"

Max is in the laundry room because his suit was stained. His suit was stained because he bled all over it. He bled all over it...?

"-So I was like, yeah, I'll just ask Max, that'll be fine. And then I spent half my morning trying to track you down, and everyone said you skipped class, which like- fair, but then you weren't upstairs in our dorm- we should really get a better lock on that door dude-"

Right. Big lizard thing. Mean big lizard thing. Casual evening assignment for him and Daniel that very rapidly turned not casual. Max is forgetting something.

"-And I have been looking everywhere. And now we're here, and I'm pretty sure you might be dead? Also I don't think your right side was purple last time I saw you. Unless it was, in which case I'm very sorry if I've offended you. But it doesn't look natural, cause like- it's just your arm and also your chest a little bit- what is your workout routine- so I'm thinking it's maybe bad."

Oh right. Poisonous big lizard thing.

Max blinks, staring up at Liam.

"Oh! You're not dead!"

Surely Max was not this stupid as a freshman.

"Obviously."

Liam looks from Max's face to his arm.

"...do you need the nurse?"

Max also looks down at his arm. It's definitely not supposed to be that color. He's not sure he could move it if he wanted to.

"Yup."

------

"Are we lost?"

Max feels his teeth grinding, squinting as he looks across the landscape in front of him. They're supposed to have a senior with them, but Kyvat had disappeared almost half an hour ago when he heard a noise- which breaks basically the first rule any of them are taught for Fog trips, to never go alone- and now Max is stuck with a freshman clinging to him.

"No."

He's lying. Sort of.

Max has made a few solo Fog trips, but that's because he's perfectly content to go apeshit and destroy everything around him to find a way out- it's how Daniel had met him the first time, before Max got enrolled.

He can't exactly do that with Bearman at his back though- the kid would die. Max can feel him stepping closer, practically pasted alongside Max's back, even though he's nearly as tall as Max is by now.

It's embarrassing, honestly. Max has two years on him- the least Bearman can do is let Max catch up to Daniel before he outgrows them both.

He might be able to try-

"Ollie."

The kid perks up behind him.

"Yeah?"

Max chews at his bottom lip for a moment. He's never tried this before- a tuned down version of what he's done in the past. He's not sure if it might still hurt Bearman, depending on how long they do it. He's not sure if they're going to get Kyvat back.

But they don't all need to die out here.

"Keep holding onto me. I'm going to try and feel a way out- I need you to tell me if you think there's a threat."

"Okay."

Credit where it's due, Ollie is brave. They weren't even supposed to go into the Fog today, not with a freshman- but things had gotten messy up top, and it had been safer to drop into the complete unknown without supplies rather than stay.

Which kind of sums up the year Max has been having.

That it's only January is irrelevant.

He closes his eyes, tries to carefully build up the charge in the area around him, feeling out for where it stops.

It's much easier to just have a full spark and follow that path, but again- tiny freshman. Max does not want to have to explain to the board why he's brought back a barbecued Bearman.

And Ollie's dorm mates would be sad.

Also, begrudgingly, Max kind of likes Bearman.

He sets off tiny little sparks, soft snaps of electricity, and then he's walking.

The Fog is difficult because it's not real. It causes hallucinations, makes you question what you see, what you hear. It obscures your sight, leads you wandering in circles until you die. Or until one of its natural predators comes to eat you.

Max is not interested in either of those things happening today, so he keeps walking, pulling Bearman behind him as he keeps setting off small snaps, carving out his own path.

He's not trying to get to a specific outlet- there's no way, not with the tiny amount of charge he's generating- just needs to get to one.

"Max-"

Oliver sounds nervous, and Max opens his eyes. There's nothing around them.

"You're hallucinating."

"Okay."

The benefit to traveling in groups through Fog is that it can't show the same thing to two people at once- which is why traveling alone is borderline suicide.

Max isn't going to feel bad for Kyvat- it's his own fault.

He closes his eyes again, feels Bearman jolt softly next to him when he accidentally sets a charge too hard, shocking him.

He's not going to feel bad about that either- he's got empathy in limited amounts.

Otherwise Bearman is good about sticking close, doesn't complain about the numerous static shocks he must be experiencing.

Max can feel a headache building at the base of his skull- he's not used to using this much precision for this long. He's been working on it with Lambiase, but it's still difficult.

His fingertips have a slight tingle- they're not numb or charred the way they get when he's really pushing it, just an uncomfortable pinprick sensation.

One of his sparks flares at the edge of his senses- it's snapping in regular oxygen, not Fog.

He doesn't open his eyes, because they're not out yet, but he must be smirking, because Bearman sighs in relief.

"Please tell me you found it."

Max hums, keeps guiding them.

"Maybe."

He can feel it when they hit the cool air- Fog is dry and stale, constantly. He blinks his eyes open, and sure enough- they've just stepped out of a dilapidated doorway, into the middle of nowhere.

"How the fuck-"

Bearman is looking at him, and Max shrugs. He's not going to explain it- he'll sound like a maniac anyways, and he has enough of a reputation as is.

He leans forward and hits the emergency button on Bearman's suit, sending off signals back to the academy and their supervisors.

"Stay here."

Oliver's eyes widen, darting between Max and the doorway.

"You're not actually going to- mate."

Max frowns at him. He's not taking judgment from a freshman- Liam is bad enough, and they have to bunk together.

"Stay. Put."

Bearman swallows and nods, and Max turns back around and steps into the Fog.

Stupid senior.

[ladykailitha]

Share With Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 5

We are now in the latter half of this story and hooboy is going to worse before it gets better. Again this story is done, I'm just putting out the remaining chapters I have.

We have the Forrest talk, The Wheeler House, and Wayne blows a gasket. Poor, poor Wayne.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

“Dustin looks up to you so much, Steve,” Eddie murmured. “It’s all he talks about. Hell, it’s all they all talk about. If Jeff and them didn’t know you before they joined Hellfire they would have gotten psychic damage with how much they talk about Steve the hero.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, well. I wish he’d tell me more to my face instead of all the bullshit I do get from him. Like he had a bag filled with flashlights and I asked him where he got them, do you want to know what he said?”

Eddie let out a pained sigh. “Something snarky and rude?”

“Right in one,” Steve groused. “He said that I was an adult and shouldn’t have to be told everything. Like no one else gets that amount of disrespect. Including you, who is older than I am.”

“That little shit head,” Eddie said with another sigh. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks.”

They walked in silence for a moment or two before Eddie spoke up.

“I’m learning this week that I’m coward,” he murmured, poking and twisting his hands nervously. “I didn’t think I was until Chrissy. But when I saw her raise up to my ceiling...I–I just ran. I could have stayed. I could have tried to help. I knew that this place was and I couldn’t help her.”

Steve shook his head. “Do you remember the first comic I ever drew for you?”

Eddie’s eyes widen and his hangdog expression cleared. “The gun, the boy running to his car before dashing back into save the day, the fear...”

“Yeah, Eds,” he murmured. “It was always about that. Running in is okay as long you know that when the time comes you’ll do the right thing in the right time.”

Eddie ran his hands over his face. “God, Stevie,” he murmured. “I hesitated. To jump in after you. You had just been dragged in and Nancy went in right after you, Robin merely a second later. But I paced that god damn boat before following suit.”

“So what?” Steve said, reaching up to guide Eddie’s face to meet his head on. “I bet I can tell you what your thought process was.”

“Steve...” Eddie whined. “Jumping in after immediately was the biggest sign of true love I’ve ever seen.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t want her, I want you. Because I know you hesitated to jump because you weren’t sure if you should go back to sure and let everyone know what happened or to jump in and protect me and the girls. You chose to protect us, Eddie. Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? I love you.”

Eddie closed his eyes and let go of all the jealousy and envy he had over Nancy and what they had before Eddie came along. He knew Steve was gay. He knew that Steve had chosen him and had kept choosing him, time after time. But when he saw the way the two of them teased each other, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head, causing him to throw his vest at Steve.

He nodded and then accepted the kiss that Steve gave him. They might be in a hellscape running for their lives with an evil wizard and all his minions chasing after them but they had each in other in this.

And they would make it. Together.

~

“They’re gone!” Nancy cried. “They aren’t here. They should be in this shoe box, but all that’s in here are the shoes that I ruined my junior year. I broke the heel on the one and had to toss them both out.”

“What do you mean they’re gone?!” Eddie bit out through clenched teeth. “How could they be gone?”

“It doesn’t make any sense!” she cried gesturing wildly. “They should be here!”

Steve wandered over to the wall and looked up at the poster. “Nance, when did you exchange your Blondie calendar for the poster?”

“Steve is that really important right now?” she snapped and then she turned around to see said calendar on the wall. “Oh!”

“What does that mean?” Robin asked, trying to break the tension that suddenly ramped up in the room.

“I think the Upside Down is stuck in 1983,” Nancy murmured. “But since the revolver isn’t here either, I’d have to guess November 6th.”

Robin and Eddie shared a confused glance.

“I don’t know what that means,” Eddie admitted, sticking his hands in his back pockets.

“That’s the day Will disappeared,” Steve said absently. He poked the calendar a couple of times. “What is so important about that day...?”

Nancy just shook her head. “What are we going to do now?”

“Well,” Steve said with the shrug of his shoulders, “we can always make my weapon again.”

Nancy raised her eyebrows and then grinned. “That will certainly help, yes.”

~

They thundered down the stairs, but Steve stopped. Nancy and Robin kept going, but Eddie slowed down and looked back.

“What’s up, Stevie?” he asked as he watched his boyfriend strain as if he was hearing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Hey, guys wait up!”

Nancy and Robin turned around to see Steve inch down the stairs, his head cocked upwards.

“Can’t you hear it?” Steve asked. “It’s Dustin, I’m sure of it! And I think...Max.” He shook his head. “I can’t quite make it... out...”

Before Nancy could scoff again, Robin giggled.

“I can hear them too!” she said excitedly jumping up and down and clapping.

It didn’t take them long to figure out how to communicate with them and they found out that they had picked up Erica and she had been read in.

“How many times do I have to be right before you believe me?” Dustin barked angrily.

“Jesus Christ. This kid's gotta get his ego in check,” Steve said twisting his lip and shaking his head ruefully.

Eddie leaned over to look past Nancy and Robin, “It’s his tone, right?”

After everything was decided that they all meet up at Eddie’s trailer, Eddie grimaced. “How are we going to get there? It’s like seven miles from here.”

Nancy looked around for a moment. “Well if it is the 6th, then all the kids would have had their bikes here. I mean it might be a little tight for the boys, but it’s better then walking.”

~

Once they were back top side, Wayne bullied the four older teens into showers and changed before sitting Steve down to do a proper stitch job while everyone caught up with what everyone had learned, but especially Nancy’s vision.

“We have to attack now,” Nancy said. “We don’t know who he’ll pick next and Max shouldn’t have to live on borrowed time.”

“Yeah,” Dustin said, nodding along with her. “We know that while Vecna is in the void his body is vulnerable to attacks. If we can lure him into attacking someone to open the fourth gate then we can attack his body in the Upside Down?”

“Oh is that all?” Eddie sneered, rising to his feet.

“Yep!” Dustin said cheerfully and Eddie slowly said back down in disappointment.

Wayne crossed his arms in front of his chest and sat back, allowing Steve to stand up. His back arms had been cleaned and properly bandaged, his sides had been sterilized, stitched, and re-bandaged, his neck cleaned and bandaged to keep further dirt out of the wound.

“Yeah?” Wayne said, “And who’s gonna be fighting this evil wizard of yours? Steve? The fella I just spent the last twenty minutes putting back together? Or the two ladies who are still in high school? Or any of the other children here, present?”

Dustin opened his mouth, but no words came out and everyone shifted around nervously as for the first time an adult put their foot down and said they shouldn’t be doing this.

Max came back into the front part of the trailer. “I tried reaching the Byers again and it’s a busy signal again.”

“Which means we have even less time then we thought,” Nancy insisted, putting her hands on her hips. “We need to take him out now before our friends get hurt, especially since we don’t know who his next victim will be.”

Wayne licked the bottom of his lips slowly. “Well you ain’t doing it with the eight of ya.”

Everyone looked around in confusion as it seemed like they were all counting their numbers.

“Before we get further,” Steve said quietly. “We do know who his next is. I read the files from Ms. Kelly’s office. I know how they all started. For Fred, Patrick, Chrissy.” He paused and then looked up. “Max.”

She froze in place and fought the urge to look over at the person she knew he was talking about, trying to look everywhere else.

“Yeah, Stevie?” Eddie asked gently. “Who’s next on the evil wizard’s hit list?”

Steve sat down hard between Lucas and Eddie and propped his chin on his knuckles. “It always starts off with visions. Visions of things he thinks you’re guilty of. I’m guessing in Max’s case it was Billy, like it was Nancy’s siblings in hers.”

Nancy wrapped her arms around her waist and looked down at the ground, rocking back on one heel of her shoes.

Both Wayne and Eddie tilted their head in the same direction at the same time as they regarded Nancy.

“Something tells me,” Eddie said wetting his lips, “that she knew that. Didn’t ya Nance?”

Max looked back and forth between Eddie and Nancy. “I was about to suggest using myself as bait, because if we can distract him long enough for a strike team to destroy his physical form, we can get rid of the Upside Down for good. But you’re telling me that she knew she was the next victim and was still going to let me be the sacrificial lamb?”

Steve shook his head. “Good ole Nancy Wheeler, only looking out for herself. We could wait a week and have Nancy be bait. Hell, we all have Walkmans. We get enough batteries and enough tapes I’m sure Max could last that long. But she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to go through the visions and guilt. Because she knows deep down Vecna, Henry, whoever is right. It is her fault Barb died.”

“Uh...” Lucas said into the resulting silence. “So are we going with Max or Nancy because that is really something we should decide before we get any further...”

“I’m all for taking the bastard out now,” Wayne said with a shrug. “But not with just us. We need more people.”

Steve turned to Eddie. “Are the boys still in town?”

Eddie got up and started waving his hands. “No. Nope. Absolutely not, Steve. We aren’t dragging them into this. Ignorance is hella bliss in this case. You know it is!”

Dustin shook his head ruefully. “If you’re suggesting who I think you’re suggesting, it couldn’t hurt. I mean Jason is amassing a lynch mob and we need all the help we can get.”

“I’d want to know,” Lucas said softly. “After what Jason and his goons did to Gareth. If I were them, I’d want to know.”

Eddie turned to glare at him. “And what did they do to Gareth?”

Lucas explained why he was no longer with the basketball guys to Nancy, Robin, Wayne, and Eddie.

“God damn it!” Wayne cussed. “That’s how they found out about the lake house? And Chief Powell just let them go? I’m going fucking sue this whole incompetent asshole county!”

“Well,” Nancy said, “I’m against it. We need a small strike team not a god damned army.”

“The hell you don’t,” Wayne snapped. “I saw the beast that damn near took out the mall and if it’s Henry Creel like we think it is, then we’re going to need everyone we can. And since we’re spread pretty thin on the ground right now with the Cali crew in the wind and Hopper dead... we need people. I would rather it not be children, but I’m out of options right now.”

Eddie pushed his fingers into his eye in frustration. “Fine.”

They all turned to him in shock.

“Fine,” he bit out again, flopping back onto the sofa. “I’ll round up the Hellfire crew. Shit, I’ll even see if Marty and Janice are in town for the week, because if we’re dragging people into this shit, we’re getting the whole band back together.”

“We’re going to need weapons and supplies,” Steve said with a sigh. He didn’t like the plan, but it was all they had. “And way to get all us of there.”

“The weapons are easy,” Wayne said with a huff, “War Zone. They’ll have everything you need. For both.”

“If we’re trying to avoid people from town,” Erica said, rolling her eyes, “maybe we should avoid a store called War Zone.”

Wayne snorted, “And you got somewhere else we can load up on supplies, little miss?”

Erica opened her mouth but no words came out.

“That’s what I thought,” Wayne said smugly.

“That takes care of one,” Robin said with a nod. “But what about transportation?”

“I have something,” Eddie said with a grin.

Steve came up to stand next to him. “You got some hidden car we don’t know about?”

“It’s not exactly a car,” Eddie said smirking at Wayne, “and it’s not exactly mine, but it’ll do.”

“Boy...” Wayne said warningly.

Eddie willfully ignored him. “Hey, Max you got a bandanna or mask I can use?”

~

Tag List: SEVEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle @strangerfolks

[nanamineedstherapy]

Tsundere vs. Tsundere: A Battle of Pride (& Boob Grabs)

Tsundere!Four-Armed!Ryomen Sukuna x Even More Tsundere!Reader

Summary: You want to touch his toddies. Tags: Tsundere x Tsundere Warfare, You Made Sukuna Malfunction, Congratulations, He Tries to Kill You but He Can’t Because He’s Embarrassed, Grabbing the King of Curses’ Tiddies: A Cultural Analysis, Four Arms/No Peace, Sukuna Has a Chest and We Will Respectfully Objectify It, Reader Is a Menace to Society (and to Sukuna Specifically), Slow Burn But Only Because He Keeps Running Away, Enemies to "What the Fuck Are We?", No Beta We Die Like Sukuna’s Dignity, Reader has negative shame, Sukuna has four arms and zero escape routes, Sukuna tries to murder you multiple times but honestly? He kinda likes it.

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, was feared by all. He was a merciless, bloodthirsty deity, a demon whose name alone sent shivers down the spines of the strongest sorcerers.

And yet.

"Come on," you huffed, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Just one squeeze."

Across from you, Ryomen Sukuna, all four arms folded like an impenetrable fortress, gave you a deadpan look.

"You are repulsive."

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you perverted little worm," he grumbled, looking disgusted but also slightly concerned for humanity. "Who the hell asks a man to touch his chest like this?"

"A woman of culture," you corrected.

Sukuna exhaled through his nose like a disappointed father.

"You do realize I don’t even have—"

"Yes, you do," you cut in. "Look at those pecs. Absolute meat slabs. That’s not a chest, that’s a national monument."

His eye twitched. "You—"

"—should be honored that I even want to."

"That’s it," he snarled, unfolding his arms, looming over you like the eldritch horror he was. "You are the most insufferable human I have ever met."

You sniffed, tilting your nose up. "Fine then. I’ll just leave since I’m so unwanted."

Sukuna blinked. "Huh?"

"It’s clear you don’t want me around," you continued, sighing dramatically. "I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted."

He narrowed his eyes. "Tch. Good."

"Great."

"Fine."

"Fine."

A pause.

You turned on your heel, marching off with your nose still high, shoulders squared.

Sukuna watched, waiting for you to stop, to turn around, to say something else—

But you didn’t.

You just kept walking.

His eye twitched.

The audacity.

He let out a sharp click of his tongue. "Oh, for—get back here, you pathetic little thing."

You stopped immediately, turning back faster than you should have.

He stared.

You blinked at him.

"...You were waiting for me to stop you," he accused.

"No, I wasn’t," you said, too fast, too defensive.

"Tch. Liar," he muttered, folding his arms again. "Pathetic."

You smirked, walking back over, smug. "Aww, so you do want me around?"

"I never said that," he snapped.

"But you implied it."

"Shut up."

You grinned like a little gremlin and stepped closer. Sukuna stiffened slightly but didn’t move away.

He was playing with fire, and he knew it.

"...So," you hummed. "About those boobies—"

"For the last time," he snarled, four hands twitching in irritation, "I DO NOT HAVE BOOBS."

"I dunno, Sukuna," you mused, eyeing his very grab-able chest. "I think you do. And I think, deep down, you want me to appreciate them."

"I WILL KILL YOU."

"You won't."

"You are two seconds away from being crushed under my foot, you flea."

You pouted, leaning against his massive frame like a lazy cat. "Then why haven’t you done it yet?"

A vein bulged in his forehead. "Because you’re too damn pathetic to waste my energy on."

"That’s cute. Keep talking."

He gritted his teeth. "Get. Off."

You looked up at him, utterly unbothered, and smirked. "Make me."

For the first time in his cursed existence, Sukuna did not have a comeback.

He glared down at you, his simmering rage met with your absolute lack of shame.

Neither of you moved.

It was a standoff of pride.

A battle between two tsunderes too stubborn for their own good.

Finally, Sukuna scoffed, reaching up with two of his four hands to shove you off.

But instead of throwing you away—

His hands landed on your waist.

He realized too late.

You grinned.

"Aww, look at you," you mocked, reaching up with both hands to squeeze his chest like a gremlin. "Such a big scary curse, and yet, so soft."

Sukuna short-circuited.

"YOU—"

"Shhh," you cooed, squeezing again, lovingly. "You’re ruining the moment, my sweet."

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME—!"

"I’M NEVER LETTING GO."

Sukuna roared, his rage shaking the very ground beneath you—

But his hands on your waist did not move.

And you grinned even wider.

Sukuna was a beast.

A god.

The King of Curses.

He had slaughtered armies, razed entire civilizations to the ground, and bathed in the blood of his enemies for sheer entertainment.

And yet.

“W-What the fuck was that?” he barked, stumbling back like you had just struck him with a Divine Retribution technique.

You licked your lips, looking very, very pleased with yourself.

"Huh. So you are sensitive."

Sukuna looked horrified.

"You—you disgusting little—" He slapped all four of his hands over his chest like some kind of violated Victorian maiden. "Did you just—"

You smirked. "I licked them nipps."

His entire body locked up.

For the first time in his immortal existence, Sukuna—the monster who had instilled terror into the strongest warriors, the man feared across history—ran.

He ran.

A whole four-armed sprinting menace.

You watched in absolute delight as he took off, tearing through the temple ruins like his life depended on it.

"Oh my god," you wheezed, doubling over with laughter. "This is the best day of my life."

---

Later, you found him lurking in the shadows like some kind of brooding, shirtless villain.

"Oi."

He twitched.

You approached, casual as ever, like you hadn’t just discovered his Achilles' heel (or nipples, in this case).

"Still sulking?" you teased, arms crossed, smirking up at him.

Sukuna was leaning against a half-crumbled pillar, arms crossed over his chest like it would protect him from your crimes.

His eyes snapped to you, burning with residual humiliation. "Say another word and I’ll tear your tongue out."

You hummed, tapping your chin, pretending to think. "That’s funny, coming from the guy who ran away the second I—"

"Shut. Up."

You grinned.

A slow, sinister, menace-filled grin.

"You know, Sukuna," you mused, watching the way his muscles tensed in pure, unfiltered rage, "it must be so hard being you."

His eye twitched. "What the hell are you—"

"You know," you continued, milking this moment for all it was worth, "all alone, up in this temple, no one to understand your struggles."

Sukuna glared. "I have no struggles, you imbecile."

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "No one to talk to… No one to help when things get rough…"

He snarled. "I don’t need—"

And then—

You delivered the final blow.

You placed a hand over your heart, feigning sympathy, then tilted your head slightly, voice dripping with fake concern—

"Must be tough… lactating by yourself, handsome."

Silence.

The world stood still.

Sukuna stared at you.

You stared back.

A vein bulged in his forehead.

His four fists clenched.

The entire atmosphere darkened.

You, completely unbothered, bit back a laugh.

His breathing got heavier. "I am going to rip you apart."

You shrugged. "I’d like to see you try."

He launched at you.

You screamed in pure joy, honked his boobies and ran away.

A/N: Scream in the comments, or Sukuna will lactate alone forever. Your choice. 😌 If you want to discuss Sukuna's Lactation, my asks are open. (✿ ͡≖ ͜ʖ ͡≖)

All Works Masterlist

[allthingsfangirl101]

Number 1 Client – Gary Johnson

Gary's POV

"So, that's basically it," the guy stuttered nervously.

"Let me get this straight," I sighed, "you want me to kill your wife because you think she's cheating on you."

"Yep."

I couldn't help but look the guy up and down. I hid my smirk behind my coffee cup. Before I could nicely make it clear that there was no way his wife was cheating on him, my phone started ringing.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "It's my girl. She knows I'm. . . I'll be right back." I excused myself from the booth and answered my phone. "Hey, baby. I'm in a meeting. . ."

"Gary!"

The fear in my girlfriend's voice made my instincts shift. I instantly left the diner and jogged to my car. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Someone. . . I was on campus. . . And someone. . . They came out of nowhere. . ."

"Y/N," I said gently as I got in my car. "I need you to calm down, gorgeous. Take a deep breath and talk to me. What happened?"

"I was leaving class," she said through her tears. "I was almost to my car when this guy grabbed me. He started dragging me. . . I fought him off but. . . I got hurt, baby."

"You what?" I asked through my teeth. I took a slow breath, forcing myself to calm down. My free hand gripped the steering wheel tightly as I heard my favorite girl cry. "Where are you, gorgeous?"

"Some girls on campus saw the guy attack me," she whispered. "They called the cops and helped me to the campus infirmary."

"Stay there, okay? I am on my way," I said, still trying to calm myself down as I turned on my car and started pulling out of the parking lot.

"Gary?" Her broken voice stopped me before I could hang up.

"I'm still here, gorgeous."

"Please hurry."

"I will be there as soon as I can, sweetheart."

* * * * *

I sped through town, not caring about how many traffic laws I broke. I found Y/N's car in the parking lot and parked next to her. I've been on campus before so I kind of knew where I was going. Running into the infirmary, I was greeted by a room full of cops.

"What are you doing here, Johnson?" My buddy, Elliot asked.

"Where's Y/N?" I asked quickly.

The look on Elliot's face changed. He sighed before pointing to a row of beds separated by curtains. "She's being checked by a doctor."

I started to run to her, but he stopped me. "What the hell. . ." I started to threaten him.

"I can't let you back there, man. I'm sorry," he sighed.

"But she. . ."

"I know she's your girlfriend," he started to list off. "And I know you love her, but I'm afraid we can only let family back there."

"Her family is in a completely different state, Elliot. I'm all she's got."

Elliot looked over his shoulder and debated something. When he turned back toward me, I knew he had made up his mind.

"Congratulations on your engagement, man," he said with a knowing look on his face. "You're fiancée is right through there."

"Thank you," I sighed before jogging towards the bed. I didn't wait to tear open the curtain. The doctor and Y/N both jumped.

"Who are you?" The doctor commanded. "You can't just. . ."

"Gary!" Y/N sobbed. She jumped off the bed and closed the gap between us. I wrapped my arms tightly around her, holding her as close to my chest as I could get her.

"It's alright, baby," I whispered. "I'm right here. Everything's okay."

"They almost grabbed me, Gary," Y/N whispered.

"I know, but you got away," I tried to reassure her.

"But I almost didn't," she stuttered.

"You got away," I said firmly. "You need to focus on the fact that you're okay. You're safe. Alright? I'm right here."

I tightened my arms around her as she sobbed into my shirt. I forced my anger aside as I tried to focus on holding her so she knew she was safe.

"What do you need, gorgeous?"

"I don't know," she sobbed. I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"That's okay," I whispered. "I'm here when you know what you need."

Someone cleared their throat. I looked over my shoulder, not letting go of Y/N. I sighed when I saw Sergeant Hank across the room. He made a motion with his finger for me to follow him.

"Baby," I whispered. "I'll be right back."

I started to walk away but she grabbed my shirt and pulled me back with a small whimper.

"It's okay," I tried to soothe her. "I'll be right back. Do you remember my friend, Elliot?"

"From your birthday?" She asked, still tucked into me. "Is he the one who got drunk, tried to start stripping but ended up falling off the table?"

"You never let me live that down," I heard Elliot mumble.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "That Elliot. He's going to hang out with you until I get back, okay? And if you need anything, he'll come get me."

"Okay," she said, her voice soft and shaky. I pulled out of the hug and gently grabbed her face in my hands. I pressed my lips to hers, giving her a gentle kiss before following Hank.

"Look. . ." I started.

"Before you get all defensive and huffy," he cut me off, "we are looking into every lead about who attacked your Y/N. We're searching every camera on campus to see if we can get eyes on her when it happened."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Sarge," I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest and glancing toward Y/N's hospital bed. She had her knees tucked up to her chest and I could tell Elliot was trying to get her to talk to him.

"I know," Sarge said, clearing his throat. "We need to keep in mind that this might be someone you helped put away."

My head snapped back toward him. "You think someone's going after my Y/N because I set them up?"

"It's possible," he shrugged. "There have been no other reports of girls getting kidnapped on the college campus. And the odds of someone choosing Y/N out of random versus someone targeting her. . ."

My eyes returned to Y/N. She hadn't moved since I left her. My mind raced with all the possibilities of who could be going after my Y/N. I didn't realize how tense and angry I was getting until Sarge roughly grabbed my elbow, making me face him.

"I know how much you love Y/N," he said firmly, "but I need you to calm down. I think it would be best if you let us handle this one."

"What?!" I yelled a little too loud. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Y/N looking at me.

"You're too close to this, Johnson," Sarge sighed. "I mean, look at you. Your knuckles are the color of the infirmary's walls."

I forced myself to unclench my fists. "I'm fine," I said slowly.

"You literally said that through clenched teeth," he chuckled. "Gary, you are one of my best undercover agents, but right now, Y/N needs you more than we do. I promise that if we need anything that you can help with, I will personally give you a call."

* * * * *

I left the bathroom and walked back into our bedroom when I heard Y/N let out a soft whimper. I froze in the doorway when I saw her tossing and turning.

"No. . . Please. . . Help. . . Gary. . ."

The second my name left her lips, her voice scared, I ran to her. I sat on the bed next to her and tried to get her to wake up.

"Y/N," I said, gently grabbing her shoulders, "it's okay, baby. Wake up. Come on, Y/N. Wake up."

I shook her a couple of times but nothing seemed to work. "Come on, baby," I whispered. "Please, wake up."

Only Y/N could ever turn me into a whimpering, scared guy. Nothing scared me — nothing except losing my Y/N.

The second she jumped awake, a sob got stuck in her throat. "It's okay," I tried to soothe her. "You're safe, baby. Look at me."

I had to grab her face to make her look at me. It took a second before I could see recognition in her eyes.

"Gary?"

Her name was so soft it felt like I was just stabbed through the heart. With my hands still holding her face, I rubbed her cheeks with my thumbs.

"It's me, baby," I whispered.

"I was. . . And then. . ."

"I know," I gently shushed her. "It was a dream, Y/N."

"No," she said, her voice breaking. "It wasn't."

I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around her. It took Y/N about 45 minutes before she finally fell back asleep. I, on the other hand, couldn't. I was more focused on ignoring my Sarge's orders and doing whatever it took to find the bastards that targeted my Y/N.

Part 2 Coming Soon

[sugarbutterbailey]

loml - s. rogers

steve rogers x reader

summary: you thought he loved you, but it was so easy for him to leave you

warnings: angst !!! fluff if you squint maybe. no use of y/n

word count: 2k

a/n: my first song fic oooo & my first fic since 2021 be proud of me <3

~~~

you said i’m the love of your life

about a million times

“what?”

“i- i’m not coming back.”

the busy atmosphere of the coffee shop suddenly dissipated. it was as if someone turned on noise cancelling headphones. you had to set down your cup in fear of gripping it too hard. the last thing you needed was a shattered coffee cup.

you take a deep breath. “what do you mean you’re not coming back?”

“the life i shared with you was beautiful. what i did to help the world was honorable. but i can’t help but think of the life i could’ve had.” he spoke, trying to hold your hand.

“you told me i was the love of your life.”

he stayed silent. He had so much time to think this through, yet his entire plan flew out the window. steve couldn’t look you in the eyes, instead he stared just beyond your ear.

-

at dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger

and put it on the one people put wedding rings on

and that's the closest i’ve come to my heart exploding

you and steve sat at the table with his friends. they were great, really. you’d been in some relationships where your boyfriends friends straight up hated you and made it known. but with steve’s friends it was different.

natasha asked you questions about your life and sam genuinely seemed interested in what you had to say. you were in the middle of a conversation with bucky when you felt steve fidgeting with your rings. he took your ring off your middle finger and slipped it onto your ring finger and left it there. 

you looked up at him and smiled. you’d never felt your heart beat so fast, like it was about to explode. the thought of being with him forever was everything you’ve ever wanted.

bucky looked away from you for a moment, focusing on steve’s hands switching the ring. he moved his gaze to his best friend, silently asking if he was serious. steve just smiled and laughed, ignoring him.

-

you talked me under the table

talking rings and talking cradles

i wish i could un-recall

how we almost had it all

“so what’s next?” you asked, sitting up against the headboard in your shared bed.

steve walked out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth. he sighed, pulling on a shirt. he had just gotten home from talking with natasha about the sokovian accords.

“we’re on different sides.” he spoke bluntly.

it was clear he didn’t want to speak about the subject any further, so you didn’t push. instead you hum in response and set your book to the side.

you helped him as he slid under the covers next to you. he took your hand and laced his fingers in between yours, holding you close.

“sometimes i think about leaving. taking you with me somewhere no one can find us.” steve closed his eyes, squeezing your hand tightly. “we could settle down. get married and have kids. be something other than captain america.”

you wanted this. god you wished this could happen, but you knew deep down he would never leave captain america behind. you just wished he’d see that he could be both here.

“we’d have three kids, two daughters and a son.” you smiled just thinking of what could be. “we’d name one after your mom and our son’s middle name would be james.”

steve chuckled as he wrapped his other arm around you. “we could get a dog and name him something basic like spot or teddy.”

“sounds perfect.” you laid your head on his shoulder for comfort. “i would support you no matter what. i’d go anywhere with you.”

he kissed the top of your head. “i’ll never leave you.”

you both stayed like this for a while. perfectly content laying in each other's arms. with the state of the avengers crumbling you knew you’d have less and less of these moments so you had to take advantage of every last one.

i’m combing through the braids of lies

“i’ll never leave”

“nevermind”

-

and who’s gonna hold you like me?

who’s gonna know you?

“tell me again.” you demanded, your voice terrifyingly calm.

“after the funeral, i’m going back to put the stones in their correct timelines. but i’m going back to peggy. i’m sorry.” steve leaned back in his chair, he could feel a migraine coming on.

you blinked. there’s no fucking way that who’s was actually happening, you thought. after years spent being together how could he just leave you? like you meant absolutely nothing to him.

“when did you decide to do this?” you questioned.

“when we went back to 2012. i realized it would work.” he started to explain.

you instinctively run a hand through your hair. it was a coping mechanism. you mindlessly braid and tangle your hair as you get lost in your thoughts.

steve kept talking but you couldn’t hear him. your mind was too full. your senses went into overdrive. all you could focus on was the sound of the espresso machine whirring in the background. the clinking of the cups. the chattering of other coffee shop patrons. the brightness of the sun shining into the building. 

how could the sun be shining right now? you wished it was raining to reflect on how you were feeling. you were having the worst conversation of your life and all you could think about was how happy it looked outside.

you snapped back into the conversation when you heard him say something about how your relationship had stalled during the blip.

you interrupted him. “absolutely not. you pushed me away but i still stayed. i told you i would stay by your side no matter what and i did. do not blame this on me.”

“i’m sorry i have to go.” steve repeated.

you watched as the man stood up from the table and left you there to your thoughts. it felt like everyone was staring at you, like they heard your conversation. but the reality was, no one paid any mind to you, instead they were all catching up with their loved ones as yours left you in the coffee shop.

-

but you’re in self-sabotage mode

throwing spikes down on the road 

the funeral was beautiful but unsettling. normally you’d be standing next to steve but instead opted to stand with peter parker and his aunt. you hadn’t seen him since he left you and you hadn’t told anyone what happened. you felt like at any moment you might breakdown.

thankfully you were at a funeral and could blame your emotions on tony, although that seems disrespectful. after the service, you briskly walked to your car, trying to avoid any confrontation. obviously, knowing your friends, sam had cornered you before you could even get past the house.

“what’s gotten into you? why’d you stand with parker?” your best friend asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“sam, i need to go. i’ll talk to you later.” you whispered, trying to push past him.

there’s no way you thought that would work, but still you tried. 

“what happened?” he lowered his voice.

you knew you were going to have to tell him at some point, or you were sure steve would’ve told him his plan.

“he didn’t tell you? you’re his best friend and he didn’t tell you he was leaving all of us to go back to her?” 

sam looked at you, shocked. no, steve didn’t tell him. you glanced over your shoulder at steve talking to 

bucky, the former had a stern expression on his face.

“looks like he’s telling bucky right now.” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

sam wrapped his arms around you tightly. he whispered his thoughts to you as you tried not to cry. 

“it’s all my fault. i introduced you to him, he never would’ve hurt you.” he apologized, but you stopped him.

you broke away from the hug and looked him in the eyes. “no, you don’t get to blame yourself. no one could’ve seen this coming. you’re my best friend, and that will never change.”

he let out a sigh of relief. you notice his eyes flicker from you to the two men far behind you. you turn to look behind you to see steve gesturing for sam to follow him.

“go, it’s fine. i’m going home.” you said, smoothing your outfit down.

“come with me. i know you don’t want to talk to him, so you don’t have to. just come with to let me say goodbye and then we can stay in and order take out, ok?” sam asked, well pleaded.

sam held out his hand for you to take. you hesitantly took it, the two of you walking toward bucky and steve. you stopped walking when you neared the group.

“i’m gonna wait here, ok? just let me know when you’re done.” you smiled weakly, taking a seat on a bench facing the water.

you tried to ignore what was happening behind you, but it was difficult. you wondered what was going on inside his head right now. was he thinking about the way he was going to find her? his future life with her?

“how long is this gonna take?” you heard sam ask bruce.

“for him, as long as he needs. for us, about five seconds.” bruce responded.

you held your breath. this was actually happening. he was leaving. some small part of you agreed to staying because you thought he wouldn’t do it. there’s no way. 

“going quantum. in three, two, one.” you heard banner countdown.

and just like that, he was gone.

-

oh, what a valiant roar

what a bland goodbye

you closed your eyes and pulled your knees to your chest. you knew if you opened your eyes you’d start to cry. but you refuse to cry over someone who left you to start over with someone else.

you sniffled softly, listening to the sound of the lake. you loved the way the water smelled. the wind blowing swiftly through your hair. 

“it’s beautiful out here isn’t it.” you heard a voice say.

you opened your eyes suddenly and looked around, spotting someone who wasn’t there before.

“steve?” you questioned.

this wasn’t the same man you once loved. this was a man who’d lived a full life. he was older, his hair white, his eyes content.

“what are you doing here? i thought you left.”

he turned his body towards you. “i did. i lived a long life with peggy. i wanted to grow old with someone, and i have.”

you teared up again. it’s obvious he looked happy and you were torn on how to feel once more. 

“i’m sorry i couldn't love you enough.” he mumbled, running a hand over his face.

you stood up from the bench and turned your back to him. “i loved you. i cherished you. i risked my life time and time again just for you. you knew more about me than my best friend and i regret that. i wanted to get married and have children with you so i waited until you were ready. well now i know you were ready, you just didn’t want it all with me. i’m sorry steve, but i dont think i could ever forgive you.”

“i’m sorry.” he whispered, reaching for your hand.

you turned around to take one last look at him. you memorized every new detail about him. this was the closure you needed to try to forget him. 

finally, you walked away. you left sam with bucky, letting him say his final goodbyes to steve. your dress swayed in the wind as you briskly walk to sam’s car. you felt awful ignoring the calls from your friends but you knew you needed to be alone for just a minute to reflect.

you got into his car, shut the door, and finally let the tears flow.

and i’ll still see it until i die

you’re the loss of my life

[starlit-writer]

in sickness and in health, ch. 4 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

here is chapter four!!!! this chapter is shorter than normal, but i needed to get this done for you guys <3 i definitely am excited to continue this, and i hope you are too!!! as always, if you want to be added to the tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3

if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

word count: 3,070 chapter three masterlist ao3 link

Your head was pounding as you stalked through the hallways of the base, away from the gym. You didn’t know your destination, your heavy, angry footsteps becoming a monotonous beat that kept you from falling over the edge. You were filled with so many confusing and conflicting emotions, which made it hard to think, let alone even begin to comprehend the miserable cocktail thrumming through your veins. Your omega side was so enamored with Simon’s behavior, whining to stay close and let him apologize, but your more logical side wouldn’t let you. What had he done to deserve your forgiveness? 

The short answer? Nothing. Sure, he stayed by you when you were sick, but he was the reason for it to begin with. Past then, it’s been nothing but fights and weirdness, and you hadn’t seen any glimpse of change or improvement. You felt lost and confused - the two sides of your being constantly at war with one another. 

You were so lost in your own internal conflict, you didn’t even notice the other person in the hallway until it was too late, and your face met the hard planes of their chest. The scent of wind-carried sea salt, fresh candied apples, and the dust of a demolition site invaded your senses, and your head whipped up in surprise to find Soap looking down at you. His signature smirk was playing on his lips, but his bright blue eyes shone with concern as his hands settled onto your hips to keep you in place before quickly slipping off. 

“Woah there, bonnie. Where ye headed with all that steam blowin’ out yer ears?” 

You stared up at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - an apt representation of how you felt at the moment. You tried to come up with something, anything to tell him, but no words would fall past your lips. The vitriol you felt towards Simon died in the back of your throat, your omega caught between wanting to defend your alpha and the reality of your situation. So you settled for placation. 

“I’m fine, Soap. Not a big deal.” 

It was a lie passed through gritted teeth, and Soap could tell, especially as you looked away to avoid his eyes. His gaze softened, and he brought a gentle finger to your cheek to force you to look at him. 

“It’s Ghost, yeah?”

You blew out a frustrated puff of air, unwelcomed tears welling in your lash line. You were angry - angry with Simon, with yourself, with your designation, with society as a whole, anything you could possibly blame to even attempt to make sense of all of your emotions. But even anger couldn’t completely mask the bone-deep grief that had settled over you like a lead-lined blanket. All you wanted was to feel normal again. Unfortunately for you, it seemed likely for that to never be the case again. You were bonded to an alpha who, up until a week and a half ago, refused to even acknowledge you outside of mission-related conversations, and now he had become some sort of overprotective, overbearing asshole. 

“I just… I don’t know what to do. I want to hate him. Gods, I want to hate him. But…”

“He’s your alpha.”

“Exactly.” You ran a hand down your face, trying to force the traitorous tears away. Soap sighed in resigned understanding, his hand settling on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but notice how his touch was angled strangely, his wrist turned out in an odd angle that just so happened to press the scent gland on his wrist right into your own scent gland right in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You weren’t wearing your scent blockers, a medically necessary intervention to try and keep the bond sickness away. Why he wasn’t wearing his, you didn’t know, but it felt rude to point out or ask about. You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself that it was just coincidence, a mistake, but the way he pressed his skin further into yours made it hard to believe. 

To confound the emotional turmoil even further, your omega was now not only at war with your logical, rational side, but also itself. Soap’s touch, his scent, felt good. Safe. More familiar to you than even your own alpha’s after the last few months. But that was just the problem, wasn’t it? Soap wasn’t your alpha. He was a part of your pack, sure, but he wasn’t your alpha. And right now? Right now all your omega wanted was your alpha, no matter how upset you were. But, you were far too prideful to actually admit that at the moment. 

Instead, you gently shrugged off Soap’s touch. As his hand slid off your shoulder, an almost sad smile appeared on his lips. “He cares about you, you know?” 

Your gaze snapped back to Soap’s, your lips parted in surprise. Your mind whirled, racing with conflicting thoughts, hopes, fears, and desires. Soap shook his head, that same sad smile accompanied by a small, sad laugh. “He does. He’s just shite at showin’ it. Just… give ‘im a chance, aye?” 

And with that, Soap walks away, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his military-issued cargo pants, leaving you completely shocked and stunned. 

—

It was nearing midnight, if the time blinking in a bright red on your alarm clock was any indication, but sleep still stubbornly refused to take you. You were sprawled out uncomfortably on your military-issued bed, the result of tossing and turning nonstop since you had laid down. After your conversation with Soap, if you could even call it that, you picked up a shift at medbay, but even your work, something you had missed deeply in the worst throes of the bond sickness, couldn’t quell the pain and anger. But even worse than the pain and anger was the confusion. Why did Soap act the way he did? It felt like there was more than what he was saying, but maybe you were reading too far into it. And right now, as shit as it felt to say it, it was the least of your problems. 

It had only been a few hours since Simon had interrupted your sparring session, and the bond was stronger than it had been, even with your anger and resentment and the distance that you had created between the two of you. You still couldn’t feel his emotions very well, even when you tried to focus on it, but you just chalked that up to the fact that your own emotions were blocking him out, as strong and volatile as they were at the moment. It didn’t matter to your omega though. Your base instincts were prowling inside of you, your skin prickling with the need to be near your alpha. 

And that’s how Simon’s crumpled up sweatshirt that you had thrown into the corner ended up on your bed, tucked between your pillows as you laid in the dark room. Soap’s words echoed in your ears, his Scottish brogue repeating to just give Simon a chance. You were so tired. Tired of everything. The type of bone deep exhaustion that you knew a simple night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. And that type of fatigue only brings weakness, and weakness brings irrationality. Plus, Simon’s sweatshirt was losing its scent, leaving your omega side even more on edge. Even though you hadn’t touched it until tonight, it had been sitting in the corner for a week, and it barely held the residual scent of the harsher scents of Simon’s pheromones. You knew that already, as you had unabashedly buried your face into it a few minutes ago to try and subdue your omega side enough to find sleep. But instead of finding the smoked pine, wet gunpowder, and a freshly-lit cigarette smell you knew should be there, you found it all smelling stale and rotted, which only made your omega freak out more. 

You flopped onto your back, a groan of frustration leaving your lips. You picked up your phone for the umpteenth time that night, but this time your finger hovered over Simon’s contact. Soap’s words whispered in your mind again, but this time, you listened. 

Your fingers flew across the screen before your more rational side could stop them. 

Hey. Are you awake? We need to talk. 

You threw your phone down onto your bed, your hands flying up to cover your face as another groan of frustration pushed past your lips. You hated this. All of it. You wished you could go back in time and somehow stopped all of this from happening. But, it didn’t work like that. 

Simon wasn’t in any better of a state than you. He rarely slept as is, but he had found it especially hard since you had left his quarters. His thoughts were all consumed by self-deprecation and fear, and those thoughts became especially loud in the darkness of his quarters, where your sick, rotted scent still clung to his bedsheets from where you had laid for those three days. When he heard his phone buzz from where it lay face down on his bedside table, he had half a mind to ignore it, just as he had done with everything other than work the last week and a half. But something told him that it was important. He sighed, stretching his arm out to blindly grab at the device from where he was laying face down in his bed. He looked at the bright screen, his eyes adjusting to the light. As soon as he saw your name flashing across his screen, he flipped over and sat up. His heart raced as he read your text, so many worst-case scenarios flashing through his mind. 

He normally wasn’t the type to worry like this. To feel anything for anyone, as evidenced by the neglect he had put you through. But, after seeing you so close to death, and his conversations with Soap and Price, he had noticed it more and more. This all-consuming desire to protect you, to be what you need. But, he would still stand by what he told you that very first day, before you had passed out. If you still wanted to break the bond, he would. 

He just hoped that this wasn’t what this conversation was going to be about. 

Do you want me to come to yours or do you want to come here?

His response was short, succinct. The detached words completely betrayed the way his hands shook as he typed out the response carefully, trying to give you the space to make the decision without being too overbearing. 

Your response didn’t come on his phone. Instead, 10 minutes later, there was a soft knock on his door. He jumped out of bed, tugging on a pair of sweatpants. As he opened the door with one hand, the other was deftly tying the strings of his pants. 

Your gaze fell down to the movement, your cheeks heating up in a flush of embarrassment before your gaze snapped up to Simon’s. Your tongue felt heavy, uncertain of itself. “Hi.”

Your scent hit Simon at full-force. You smelled better than you had the last time you were in his quarters. Your warm, caramelized vanilla, full of spice and the thinnest layer of medical antiseptic and gunpowder. It smelled much more like you, right, but there was still something off. You smelled… defeated, almost, like you had given up. And, maybe, you had. 

“Hey,” he whispered back in response. He felt uncertain, something he wasn’t familiar with. “You said we needed to talk?” 

You looked down at the floor, biting the corner of your lower lip. You knew what you needed, what your omega wanted, but your logical side was holding you back. You nodded slightly, keeping your gaze averted. “Can I come in?”

Simon nodded, even though you couldn’t see it, and stepped back. You stepped inside, letting the door fall closed behind you. You looked around the room, noticing how much it hadn’t changed. Simon’s sheets were mussed up, and it was clear that he had been tossing and turning just as much as you had been. You sighed softly, running a hand down your face. Your omega side was whining, begging to be wrapped up in Simon, but it had finally started to settle down being within Simon’s quarters. 

Simon stood awkwardly behind you - like a puppy afraid to be seen. You felt the emotions radiating off of him, smelled it in the air. His normal scent had soured slightly, but you could tell he was trying to hide it. You glanced over your shoulder at him, and, sure enough, his hand was clamped over one of his scent glands to try and dampen the scent. He stared back at you, his brown eyes filled with a sad warmth. A frown tugged at your own lips as you saw the sadness in his gaze, a strange feeling of guilt flaring in your chest. 

“What did you need to talk about?” He asked softly, his gaze unwavering from yours. 

Strangely, just hearing those words from him broke something in you. Maybe it was the fact that you were exhausted, your omega so wounded and confused, or that you were so tired of being enemies - whatever the reason, it truly didn’t matter. Tears started to well in your lash line, your eyes closing to try and fight against the unrelenting tide. In the brief watery moment, you saw Simon’s face morph into thinly-veiled panic, and right when your eyes closed, you felt his arms wrap around you. 

“Hey, hey, love, shhh…” Simon muttered softly as he shifted his body to press completely against yours. Your hands came up to rest on his bare chest as the tears started to flow freely. Your chest stuttered as you tried to force air into your lungs, but this was all too much and yet, not enough. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”

You shook your head, but you weren’t quite sure what you were denying as the tips of your omega claws dug slightly into the thick muscle of his pectoral. “I… I’m tired, Simon,” you whispered in response, your voice weak and shaky. “I’m so, so fucking tired.” 

He pressed you further into his chest, your head slotting perfectly under his chin. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Do you want to talk about it?” 

You shook your head again, not trusting yourself to speak. Not trusting yourself to keep the armor of spite and anger that you had carefully crafted over the last few months at bay. You knew what you needed. From both yourself and him. 

Vulnerability. 

“Tell me what you need, love. Please. You’ve done such a good job blocking me out, I can’t get a read on you. I need you to talk to me. I want to help you, but I can’t without words.” 

“I-I didn’t do it on purpose,” You sobbed out, pressing your face further into his skin, angling it to get as close as you can to the scent gland on the underside of his jaw. 

A small grumble shook in his chest as he pulled you impossibly closer, a huff rustling your hair. He placed his lips against the top of your skull gently, rocking the two of you slightly as you wept. “I know,” he muttered, his lips brushing your hair tenderly as he spoke. “It’s my fault. I pushed you away. I fucked up. And I ain’t gonna stand here and make excuses anymore. There was reasons for why I reacted the way I did, but… now’s not the time to go into them. Just know that… I’m here for you. I got you, love. In every and any way that you want me.” 

“I don’t know how to forgive you.” The words were small, little more than a breath of shaky, pain-filled air that brushed against the thin, delicate skin of his throat. 

And, fuck, if that didn’t stab him through the chest like a twisting blade. He knew he deserved it, gods, he knew it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I know,” he whispered in response, but his voice lacked any real strength. He sounded hollow, like your whispered admission had completely shattered him. “I know.”

“I’m just so tired,” you repeated, your voice breaking on another sob. “I don’t know what to do, I’m so fucking… I’m torn, Simon. Every day the logical side of my brain and my omega have been at war with each other, and I’m so fucking tired of fighting it. I give up.”

“You… you give up?” Simon whispered, his voice coated in shock. 

You tilted your head up higher, moving away from him just enough to look up at him fully. Your cheeks were streaked with tears, the skin red and swollen. For the first time in a long time, you could feel his emotions through the bond. The shock, the self-hatred, the pain that ricocheted through his body felt almost like your own. Even through the onslaught of his emotions, you could feel your heart, which had been so cold and detached to his, warm slightly. He cares. You blinked, trying to will the tears away enough to look at Simon - really look at him for the first time, probably ever. 

“I give up on pretending I don’t need you.” 

Simon blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. 

“What?” he mumbled, his voice still filled with shock. 

“At least for now. I’m tired of fighting it. All of it. And I might not know how to forgive you, how to trust you outside of a battlefield, but I’m tired of sleeping in an empty bed away from the man I’m mated to. I’m tired of avoiding each other like the plague. I’m tired of feeling like I’m incomplete. I’m just… tired.”

Tired. Simon could work with tired. The trust and the bond strengthening and all of that can come after. But, it’s a chance. And that’s all he needed. 

“Do you want to stay the night?” 

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. You knew you couldn’t run any longer. And you knew that this, even just for a night, would help soothe your omega. The actual conversation can wait until the morning.

tag list: @kerst666 @misscaller06 @letaliabane @sai-int @itsmeamysworld @massivescissorsthingperson @aeeliy @alkalineapparition @cringeycookies @trulovekay @luvlyleah276 @mundanenonsense @unclearblur 

[gonerboy]

“If you see her, do not– I repeat, do NOT tell her where I am. Otherwise, she’ll start hounding me for a reading about her missing sheep again. I told her astrology isn’t meant to be used for such matters, but does she seem like the type to take no for an answer? Really… If she wants some help, why not go to the Knights? Or… you know what, why don’t you give her a hand next time you run low on commissions? That’ll keep you occupied for a day. (And it’ll keep her out of my hair, too…)”

-Astrologist Mona Megistus

◆ Name: Sasha

◆ Title: Snow-Touched Shepherdess

◆ Vision: Cryo

◆ Constellation: Pedum

If the wind should carry the sound of bells to your ears whilst walking near Mondstadt’s northern border, it may be Sasha and her flock of sheep out for a morning stroll.

Tugging at her cape, or each other’s tails, several pairs of hooved feet follow her like lemmings. So long as they stick together, they will be safe from harm – this is Sasha’s constant admonishment.

However, the spirit of freedom calls to beasts of all kinds within Mondstadt, and they are no exception. A fluttering butterfly catches Brigitta’s eye, a Geo Slime challenges Friedrich to a headbutting match, or an especially fragrant pastry draws the attention of Marta while on the street… like clockwork, something inevitably tempts at least one member of the procession to deviate from the path set for them by their ever-cautious guardian.

“Five, six… Wait! Where’s Gretl?!” As Sasha performs a headcount upon returning to the farm, the littlest among them is no longer present. “Ach, that naughty little Frechschaf… Liesl, come with me. Everyone else, stay here if you know what’s good for you. I’ll be back before sundown!”

And thus begins a day of searching and muttered curses. She prepares a strongly worded speech – How many times did she have to tell her not to stray? Did she know how long they spent looking for her? With every moment spent searching, Sasha’s seething only increases, her teeth grinding against one another in preparation to let loose.

However, upon finding the little ball of wool dozing in a field of dandelions, Sasha’s anger begins to melt like the morning frost under the sun. As she makes the long journey back north, a little lamb sleeps peacefully, slung over her shoulder.

After all, the scolding can wait until they’re back home, can’t it?

[theherothesavior]

Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Warnings: alcohol, slapping (not from Joel), light angst, my shitty writing, not proofread.

Author’s Note: This is the first thing I’ve ever really posted in here for a character so please be kind. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count: ~3k

………………….…………………………………………………………

Three months in Jackson means nothing when your brain is still out there. Out where the ghosts of the past linger as pale memories of a life you never even got the chance to live. No graduating high school, no getting to enjoy college, hell, not even a normal relationship with someone where the worst thing that could happen would most likely have been a shitty break-up and not watching them get eaten by a faceless fungus monster. Every day in Jackson is a reminder of what you’ve lost, or rather, what was taken from you. This illusion of a normal community makes you sick as you walk down to the bar, the only real thing in this fake town that is worth being here.

Passing through the Tipsy Bison to one of the stools against the bar is the highlight of each night at this point. Jack, the surly bartender who’s a spitting image of Willie Nelson, pours you your regular and you thank him, tipping your head back to down it before nodding for another. Around the fourth drink, the familiar smell of campfire and saddle leather settles next to you.

“Rough day?” He grumbles softly, Jack giving him his usual drink as well.

“Not in the mood, Joel.” You huff back, completely uninterested in speaking with your housemate at this moment. He scoffs next to you and your jaw clenches in aggravation. “What?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“Nothin’... just wonderin’ what’s up your ass lately.” He whispers, head turning to face you. “You’ve been like this since we got back here and decided to stay.” You avoid looking at him, continuing to sip your drink, making him sigh and move forward. “Listen, darlin’... I don’t really care if you talk to me or not, but you’re upsetting Ellie. She thinks you’re pissed at her.”

“I’m not,” You answer simply.

“Yeah, I know that but she doesn’t… she even said you came home drunk the other night and said some stuff about wanting to go back out there.” His voice is eerily soft, making you finally look at him. Remorse bubbles up your throat, wishing you could take those words back from her. You swallow it down.

“It’s not because of her. She shouldn’t worry about it.” You finish your drink, a little tipsy at this point, but wave to Jack for another. The next one comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and the next…and the one after that. When you call for your eighth drink, thoroughly drunk at this point, Joel stops you from downing it.

“You’re done, darlin’. Let’s go home.” His tone, still as soft as earlier and it makes my chest ache, the usual rough timber of his voice, lowering to a volume only you can hear. You push the warm feeling of him away, wanting to drown it in the warmth of liquor instead.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, reaching for the drink. He quickly downs it, keeping one arm on your waist as you lean too far off the stool, practically falling in his lap. “Asshole.” Your voice raises and he immediately rises, towering over you.

“Enough.” His voice, dangerously low as he glares down at you.

“I’m not a child, Joel.” You bite back, but the words slur from your tongue, falling between you two like fluff. “Then stop actin’ like one.” He says sternly, the commanding look on his face shooting straight down your body. Your knees grow weak and you can’t tell if it’s from him or the copious amount of alcohol from this evening.

“Don’t talk to me like that…” your voice barely above a whisper, no real power behind it. You push his hands off your hips and stumble out of the building, boots crunching as they meet the snow. The cold air whips across your cheek as you tilt your head back to face the sky, eyes closed, letting the snowflakes land in your lashes. For a moment, everything’s normal. The world didn’t end. You’re just standing drunk in the snow, enjoying the beauty of life, feeling as weightless and soft as the snow melting against your cheeks.

That doesn’t last long.

“Awe… are you drunk again?” A grating voice pulls you from your thoughts, from your moment of peace. You turn carefully and open your hazy eyes to see Mallory. The terrible woman who lives next door to you, Ellie, and Joel. The same irritating woman who is constantly trying to live in Joel’s pants. Her condescending smirk lingers on her face as you manage to answer, obviously drunk.

“Maybe. But at least I don’t look like you.” It makes no sense, but you’re too gone to care. She scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, too bad for you, sweetie, ‘cause Joel seems to actually notice me.” You can’t help the giggle that crosses your lips before immediately answering, “Joel thinks you look like a 40-year-old busted Barbie doll.” Your voice, slurred, but the insult doesn’t go unheard by Mallory. “Said…. He said… he thinks all the plastic in your body is what keeps anything from biting you. S’how you survived this long.” You giggle more to yourself but Mallory moves quickly, way too fast for your drunken reflexes, slapping you across the face. You hold your cheek, the cold weather making the sting worse.

“What the hell!?” You exclaim.

“Stupid whore! You don’t get to speak to me that way! You think that just because you have Joel wrapped around your finger and shoved so deep down your throat, you can walk around this town like you can’t be touched. Well… you’ve never been more wrong. He’ll see. He’ll see just what a liar you really are.” With that final threat, she shoves you hard, causing you to fall on your back in the snow. Your drunken mind struggles to catch up to what just happened and how you’re suddenly parallel with the night sky, a searing pain traveling up your spine.

“Shit..shit..shit…” You roll on your back, the cold seeping through your coat reminding you of the large gash you’ve been hiding for a few days now. Mallory laughs at you, bitterly, as you writhe on the ground, unable to get up in your drunken state. Her laughter gets drowned out by the familiar sound of Joel’s voice coming closer.”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” He comes stomping over, glaring at Mallory as she plasters a look of faux concern on her face.

“I don’t know, I think she fell because she’s drunk again. I was coming to help her up and take her home to you.” Her fake sweetness makes your teeth hurt just hearing it as Joel kneels next to you.

“Come on, darlin’.” One arm slips under your shoulders while his other hand holds yours helping you to your feet. “Easy.” He whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down your back making you hiss and recoil in pain, stumbling back at the quick motion and almost falling down. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes soften as he searches your face, his chest tight with worry as he watches you draw away from him. You mumble something incoherently, and he can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Mallory attempts to say something to him, her words falling on deaf ears as he slowly and carefully brings you back home. “Come on, up to the bathroom.” His voice, sweet but stern in your ear as he helps you upstairs, guiding you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He tugs at your coat’s zipper with a soft nod, like he’s speaking to a toddler, waiting for you to nod back before actually taking it off. The chunky sound of your coat unzipping, mixed with your drunken breathing is the only sound in the room. Once it’s off, Joel puts your coat to the side before turning back to you. “Okay, I need you to turn around and straddle the seat for me.” His hands tenderly move to your elbows, helping to shift positions so he can get a full view of your back. You sit back down and giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a slight grin on his face.

“Straddle,” you giggle more. “It’s a funny word.” Joel huffs out a laugh behind you, shaking his head. “Alright, Giggles, I’m gonna lift your shirt to check your back now.”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner before you undress me, Miller?” You joke and once again he grins when you can’t see, shaking his head. He doesn’t answer while he grabs the hem of your shirt and starts to carefully roll it up your back with his warm hands. Always so warm, even though it’s below 20 degrees out. His whole aura, the color of a diminishing fire. Not as bright as it once was, but still has the potential to burn bright again. Not in the same way, never in the same way, but warm nonetheless.

His hands move your shirt up and you hear his breath catch in his throat. “…sweet girl.” His words, laced with stress and pity as his fingers delicately stroke your bare skin. You shudder from his gentle touch and the cool air hitting your exposed flesh. “When the hell is this from? This doesn’t look new.” He asks, confused.

“S’not… from those raiders a couple of days ago.” You mumble, even in your drunken state you know he’s going to be pissed.

“2 weeks?!” He exclaims, stressed. “You had this for two weeks and it looks barely healed. Have you even been taking care of it? Or are you giving up on that too?” His hand moves and you hiss as your shirt grazes the irritated wound, making you just pull the shirt over your head leaving your top half completely bare.

“What do you mean given up on that too, Joel? What else have I given up on?” You manage to string the sentence together with enough sobriety to get your irritation across.

“Nothing… it means nothing.” His voice, withdrawn as he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink before turning the conversation back toward my back. “Why’d you hide this for two weeks? It looks like it’s a day away from infection.” He mumbles angrily finding an alcohol wipe from the box and running it over the wound making you grip the top of the toilet tank in pain. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?” He asks, a bit of frustration in his voice. You sigh in relief as he stops using the alcohol on your cut flesh, “...because I knew you’d freak out about it. You’d get all Joel about it and make me feel like shit.”

You answer quietly, each pass of bandage and cleaning solution on your skin, sobering you up slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, offended, his hands pausing against your spine.

“It means. Joel, that you tend to overreact over little things.”

“Little things?!” His voice raises, “This is a huge thing!” He yells, making you turn around on the top of the toilet seat to face him. “It’s a big cut, so what? It was fine until Mallory slapped me and shoved me onto the ground! You should be angry at her, not me.” You seethe, the alcohol making your bite not as strong as you want. “I’m angry at the both of you! Mallory is a bitter woman who is obsessed with the idea of me liking her, and I’ll deal with how she treats you tomorrow, but you,” he pauses, lowering his voice as he tries to calm himself down. Though his volume is quieter, his breathing is still heavy as he steadies himself to answer. “...you are a fuckin’ idiot for not telling me about something like that.”

You scoff, “I’m an idiot? You’re an asshole.” You stand up, “You already made me feel like shit about that altercation with those raiders. If I told you about the cut on top of that, you would have started a fight about me not going on patrols anymore.”

He laughs mirthlessly, “Damn right I would have. I didn’t want you going out there when we were out there!” The stress is evident in his voice as he steps closer.

“Okay, I’m drunk, so that makes zero sense.” You answer confused, unable to process his words at the moment. “You just like having control over what I do. You treat me like a child, like I don’t know what’s going on ever and that you’re the only one who gets a say in my life.” Your words are less slurred that earlier, but you’re still nowhere near sober enough to be having this conversation. “You act like you care, but you really don’t. You just want me around because you’re too scared to have your life change in anyway you can’t control. You see me as a burden to take care of, you think I can’t take care of myself and you don’t want me.” Half the things you’re saying aren’t true, you know he’s aware of your ability to protect yourself, but in this moment you just want to yell at him. You just want to make him feel something for you other than the indifference you believe he feels. Something. Anything that means he cares in the way you want him to, the way you’re too scared to admit to even yourself, let alone him.

His jaw clenches, suddenly aware of the state you’re in as you stand in front of him. His eyes drift to your completely exposes top half, lingering on your breasts for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, schooling his features. “Darlin’... if you believe all that, then you really are an idiot.” He says flatly, internally trying to calm the inner turmoil brewing within him. He wants to tell you everything. He wants to admit why he worries, why he’s so protective, why he gets aggravated when you don’t listen to him wanting to keep you safe. “Put your shirt on and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but you try anyway.

“There you go again! Telling me what to do, when I don’t want you to.” You turn, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. “There’s only one reason I’d let you tell me what to do, but you don’t want that.” You mumble to yoursel, bitterly, not expecting him to hear all of what you said. When you turn, he’s stalking toward you, backing you up against the wall, his hand reaching to your waist to stop you right before your wounded spine hits the hard surface. He looks down, inches from your face, eyes almost black.

“You don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know what I do or don’t want.” His voice, at a dangerous level, his breath hot on your neck as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, go to bed, and we’ll talk about all of this in the morning.” You gasp at his firmness but you still go to protest. He leaves you no room for argument. “No. No arguments. All I want to hear is ‘Yes, Joel.’ and then go to bed.” He drops his gaze, looking at you to make sure you’re understanding him while waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Joel…” You answer with a small voice. He nods and moves to the side to let you pass by and exit the bathroom. You move slowly to your bedroom, still drunk and even more confused as you drop to your bed with a heavy sigh. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out.

The stabbing pain in your head reminds you of the overconsumption of liquor you had the night beforehand. With your face smushed against your pillow, your fingers tighten around the sheets as the room spins around you. With a groan, your attempt to sit up is over powered by the drastic shift of your insides, a tidal wave of nausea filling up your stomach, weighing you down like a flood filling a once empty pool. As you manage to shift onto your back, the memories of last night play in your mind. Each moment more vivid than the last as they project themselves onto the ceiling above you.

“Fuck…” You mumble to yourself, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyes like a reset button you so desperately need to work, but knowing it won’t. After another five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you manage to sit up, closing your eyes until you gain your equilibrium once again. With an awkward stretch, a sharp pain shoots across your back, making you yelp like a wounded puppy, and ignore the nausea as you shoot out of bed and rush to the mirror attached to the back of your door. You twist your torso with a hiss, attempting to lift your shirt at the same time to see what’s causing the burning sensation on your back.

When you manage to lift the well-worn fabric, you’re met with a giant piece of gauze on your skin, stretching over your spine. With the sight, more of the night comes rushing back to you. You let your head fall back, eyes closed in regret and frustration before looking back into the mirror. Something on the nightstand catches your attention, a scrap of paper. Crossing the room, your chest tightens when you read the words.

We need to talk -Joel.

Next Chapter

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 13

Harlow

I’M SHAKING when I sprint into my residence hall and up the staircase. I can't get away from Noah fast enough. My heart is still pounding as I make my way up the stairs. This shit with him is too much. I just want to be left alone and fade into the wallpaper, but he’s making that impossible.

And then there’s this shit with Talia . She seemed a bit down this morning when I saw her, and it occurs to me she might have intentionally fallen off the map for a while. She’s done this before. Once, when we were sixteen, and she’d just broken up with her boyfriend, she ran off for two days. Turns out, she was crashing in her cousin’s basement and had sworn that cousin to secrecy. And she did go back home eventually.

But what could have happened in the last day or two to make her want to go off-grid? It’s possible, I guess, but still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

Before going to my room, I head to Talia ’s room and knock on her door. It’s late, and I feel bad for disturbing Talia 's roommate, but I have to see if she popped up at some point.

I hear rustling on the other side of the door a few seconds before it’s pulled open. My heart leaps into my throat, and I pray it’s Talia on the other side, in her pajamas, looking annoyed.

It isn’t.

“What’s up?” Talia 's roommate asks, bleary-eyed like I just woke her up from a dead sleep.

I try to peer over her shoulder at Talia 's bed, but it’s pitch black inside the room. “Hey, sorry to wake you. I know it’s late. Did Talia make it home?”

She glances at the bed behind her and shakes her head. “Doesn’t look like it.”

My heart sinks. “Did she mention where she was going, or if she was planning on staying somewhere else tonight?”

She blinks at me like she’s trying to clear the sleep fog from her brain. “Shouldn’t you know? Aren’t you her best friend?” She doesn’t sound accusatory, just genuinely bewildered by my question.

I push out a breath. “If you see her, tell her to come see me. Doesn’t matter what time it is.” I pull her phone out of my pocket and hold it up. “And tell her I have her phone.”

The roommate holds her hand out. “You want me to give it to her?” “No, thanks. I’ll give it to her when I see her.”

If Talia is deliberately avoiding me, then I want a reason for her to come see me. And I know she can’t live without her phone. She’ll come looking for it sooner or later.

The roommate's hand falls to her side, and she’s already shutting the door. “Okay, cool. I’ll tell her you came by. ”

“Thanks,” I say just as the door clicks shut.

As I walk to my room, my stomach tightens, and I start to feel sick. If I don’t see the whites of Talia 's eyes by tomorrow, I’m going to the police. Period. I can’t do this on my own, and I now I know I can’t count on Noah’s help–he’s so damn unpredictable, I don’t know from one minute to the next what mood he’ll be in. Besides, his help comes with strings–strings that look a lot like chains.

I unlock and open my door quietly, so I don’t wake up Emily, but she’s not here. She must still be at the sorority party. I strip my clothes off and find my sweatpants. I don’t even bother brushing my teeth or washing my

face. I just crawl under my covers, and lie there, staring up into the darkness.

My mind immediately wanders to Talia —wondering if she’s safe, wondering if she’s okay—but I push those thoughts aside. Worrying going to help anything, and honestly, it’s just as likely she’s sleeping off a bender on someone’s couch. I mean, that’s what college is about, right? Making questionable decisions.

My thoughts shift to Noah. He’s such a mystery—and despite the serious ick his personality is giving me, I can’t help but be curious about him. He’s like a puzzle I’m itching to piece together.

I’d be better off not knowing what makes him tick, and just walking away—which, to be fair, is what I’ve been trying to do since the second I met him. Maybe I just need to try harder and be more forceful.

The guy is determined, though, and maybe that’s part of the appeal for me. His relentless pursuit. God knows I have a weakness for that quality in a guy. And look where that got me. Some serious emotional trauma, and hundreds of hours of therapy. Not to mention a seriously fucked up view of Noahtic relationships.

I manage to get a few hours of sleep, somehow, and when I wake up, my roommate is already gone, her bed made. Damn, I must have been dead to the world when she came back last night. And I know she came back because her computer and backpack are gone.

Sitting up, I rub the sleep from my eyes. My head hurts, like I’m hungover. I didn’t drink nearly enough to be truly hung over, so it must be from all the stress about Talia , and Noah, and just…everything.

I fish my phone out from under my covers and unlock it. No text from Talia . Though I don’t know how she’s supposed to text me without her phone—I don’t even know if she knows my phone number by heart.

I stick my phone on the charger while I hurriedly get ready, going down the hall to brush my teeth and take care of all my bathroom stuff in record time. Back in my room, I throw on some jeans and a T-shirt and put on some deodorant.

I grab my phone, Talia 's phone, and my backpack, then fly out the door. But I don’t go to my first class. Instead, I head straight to Talia ’s room. No answer. My next stop is the student services building. Inside the registrar’s office, a middle-aged woman is sitting at a desk, and I walk straight up to her.

“Hi, excuse me.” She looks up from her computer with a smile, and I continue, “I’m looking for my friend, but I don’t have her schedule. Can you tell me which classes she has today?”

I obviously know her major, but we hadn’t yet shared our schedules with each other. I could call her mom and ask if she knows, but I don’t want to worry her parents. It’s better if I just handle this myself, for now.

The woman’s smile falls. “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to share another student’s schedule. Is everything okay?”

“It’s just….she didn’t come back to her dorm room last night,” I say. “And I was hoping to find her in one of her classes.”

The woman shakes her head. “Sorry, I can’t help you. Is she an undergrad?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked to the Undergraduate Dean?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet. This was my first stop.”

“Okay, well, try that route first. If she needs access to your friend’s schedule, then we can pull it up at that point.”

I flash her a tight smile. “Okay, thanks.”

But as I’m walking out of the registrar’s office, I wonder if Noah could have gotten her to bend the rules and give him that schedule. Maybe I should have name-dropped him? He has an unbelievable amount of influence and power over the student body, but does it extend to the staff, too?

Outside the student services building, I pull my phone out of my pocket and stare down at it. I have Noah’s number. Shit ended badly between us last night, but he might still help me.

I suck in a breath and mentally shake myself. No. I’ll handle this through the proper channels. I’ll go to the Undergraduate Dean, or campus security, and see if they can help me.

My phone pings and I glance down at the screen. It’s Noah. Of course, it is .

Campus coffee shop. Five minutes.

It’s not even a question or a request. It’s a demand. Fucking asshole. I shove my phone into my back pocket without responding. Noah can go fuck

himself.

I head over to the Undergraduate Dean’s office to talk to her about Talia

, but she’s not in her office, so I end up having to leave a message with her assistant. I try to convey the urgency of the situation, but the assistant doesn’t look overly concerned. Still, she assures me Ms. Ramirez will get back to me as soon as she’s back in the office. I have my doubts, but I thank the assistant anyway.

My next stop is the campus security office. Again, I explain everything

—Talia acting weird, not texting me back, her phone found in the sand, and the security guy writes it all down, then adds the paper to a pile on the corner of his desk.

I blink at him. “So what happens now? Are you guys going to look for her? Ask around?”

He folds his hands in front of him. “Listen, students go missing all the time—they get stressed, and disappear for a couple of days. I’m sure she’ll be back. But in the meantime, I’ll get your note over to the head of security, and he’ll be in touch.”

That’s it. No sense of concern. No urgency. Just…we’ll be in touch. Wow.

Feeling defeated, I don’t know what else to do but head to my next class, and just pray someone calls me back. I’m five minutes early and find a seat near the door. As I��m pulling my laptop out of my backpack, someone slips into the empty chair next to me. I recognize the scent instantly. That fresh, masculine smell that can only be Noah Sabastian .

When I look up, he’s staring down at me, an amused smile stretched across his beautiful face. “Ignoring me, Little Rabbit?”

Fuckity-fuck-fuck. I should have known he would show up here, to my class. Following me around is his thing, apparently.

I put my laptop on the cracker-sized table in front of me, and push out a frustrated breath. “I thought I was clear last night. Stay. Away. From. Me.”

He ignores my statement, as usual. “I heard you were over at the student services building.”

For fuck’s sake.

I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, you have spies everywhere.” His smile broadens. “How’d you guess?”

I shrug one shoulder and open my laptop. “Having me followed is peak villain energy.”

“I don’t need to have you followed–I have people crawling over this campus.”

“Great,” I say with a frustrated breath. There’s no sense getting into all of this with him. “Why don’t you just tell me what the hell you want so you can leave?”

He leans across his micro-desk, and I swear to God, my heart actually skips a beat…or three. His intoxicating scent wraps around me, and I can’t help it, I suck in a deep breath. “Oh, baby,” he whispers with that devilish smile. “I love it when you play hard to get.”

This guy takes every ounce of patience I have.

“I literally hate you,” I say flatly, logging into my laptop, trying my best not to look at him. “Leave now, or I swear to God…”

From my periphery, I see him hold up a folded piece of paper. “You want me to leave? Really? Because…I have something you want.”

If he mentions his dick, I swear I’m going to punch him right in that perfectly sculpted jaw and take whatever consequences come. I’m so over this hyper-masculine show he puts on for everyone. It’s gotten really old, really fast.

I turn my head toward him slowly. “I highly doubt that.”

“Oh.” He pulls back, that cocky smile still on his face. “Okay, so you don’t want this class schedule for…” He unfolds the paper and glances down at it, reading. “...Miss Breanna Langley.”

The fuck?

I try to take it out of his hand, but he’s quick, and snatches it away, holding it just out of my reach. “Ah, ah. You want this, you come with me.”

I swallow and glance up at the front of the class, where the professor is unpacking his laptop. He has his back turned away from us.

“I can’t, I have class,” I say, hoping he’ll take pity on me, and just give me the schedule.

Noah turns his attention to the professor. “Yo, Prof.” To my amazement, the professor straightens and turns around to face us. “I need to borrow Harlow . Email her the class notes for today, yeah?”

The professor doesn’t even look bothered. “Sure thing, Noah. Say hi to your dad for me.”

“Cool.” Noah turns back to me with a self-satisfied smile. “Fixed.

Let’s go.”

The entire class is watching us at this point, including the professor, so I shove my laptop back into my backpack and stand up, sheepishly squeezing past a couple of people to get to the door with Noah right behind me.

Once we’re out in the hallway, and out of earshot of the class, I whirl on Noah. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have everyone in your fucking pocket?

He shrugs one shoulder. “My dad pays Professor Birk’s salary.” I blink. “What?”

“Well, I mean, not directly. My dad funds the grant that pays his salary.

Same difference.”

“Good God,” I breathe, exasperated. “Is nowhere safe around here?”

He leans against the wall, all casual strength. “I told you I own this university. I wasn’t exaggerating.”

I lift my arms, then let them fall in defeat. “Okay, here I am. You have me. Can I have the schedule now?”

“Coffee,” he says. “Everyone needs to see us.”

Welp, now I have nothing else to do. I might as well let him buy me a coffee. “Fine. This doesn’t mean you’ve won, though. I just like coffee.”

“Sure,” he laughs, and that laugh makes me want to punch him in that beautiful face. “Whatever you say.”

When we get to the campus coffee shop, it’s crowded, but our table is vacant, and already laden with pastries. It’s a little over the top, honestly, but I didn’t eat breakfast, so I’m not complaining. I grab a croissant and sit down.

Not three seconds later, someone brings lattes in mugs to our table. “I hadn’t even ordered yet,” I say between bites.

Noah just shrugs and watches as I finish off my croissant in two bites, then immediately tuck into a cheese Danish. He looks amused by my gluttony.

“I’ve informed food services that all your meals are to be charged to my account.” He pauses like I’m supposed to thank him or something, but I just blink at him instead.

“So, what, is this the treatment you give all your girls? Free meals and an excuse to ditch class?”

He’s watching me closely, and it makes me twitch a little. “Among other things.”

I hold out my Danish-free hand. “Well, I’m here, having coffee with you

—against my will, I might add. Hand over the schedule.”

He hands it over without an argument, thankfully. At least, he keeps his word. One very small point in his favor. I open the schedule and make note of her next class. “Three o’clock,” I say. “That’s her next class. Edmund West building.”

“Great,” Noah says dismissively like he doesn’t give a damn. And I guess he wouldn’t. Talia isn’t his friend, so why would he care? Whatever. I’m just glad I got Talia 's schedule.

What this does prove, though, is that finding Talia will be a whole harder without Noah’s help. So, fuck, I guess I need to play along with this consort shit for a while.

Still, it doesn’t mean I need to hang out with him for any longer than is necessary, so I suck my coffee down as quickly as possible .

Noah is leaning back casually, his arm slung over the chair next to him, watching me intently. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think he hated me. The look on his face is pure contempt, the edges of his lips curled up, his brows pinched. But a second later, it’s gone, replaced by that cold indifference I’ve come to know so well.

“There’s a get-together tonight. I want you there,” he says evenly. He hasn’t touched his coffee or the pastries, and I wonder why. Maybe he already ate? But then why invite me to what amounts to an entire continental breakfast buffet? I mean, damn, everything on this small table could feed at least fifteen people.

I take another sip of my coffee. “I’ll have to check my schedule,” I say evasively. I have to play nice with this guy, for now, but that doesn’t mean I have to be his puppet.

Besides, shit might be going on with Talia that I need to be available for. I mean, hopefully, she’s fine and just hungover somewhere, but…I have no real idea, so I don’t want to make any promises.

“I want you there,” he says flatly, another command.

Everything in me wants to get up from the table and tell him to fuck off, but he was able to get his hands on Talia 's schedule when I was told that it was impossible just minutes before. He has the connections I need.

I smile tightly. “Where?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ll pick you up.”

I push out a breath–and search my brain for any possible excuse I can throw out there that he would accept. But, I’ve got nothing. “What time?”

“Eight.” He pushes back from the table and stands. “In the meantime, don’t go to the police about your friend. That would be a bad idea.”

I don’t even have a chance to ask him why, because he’s already out the door. He just left me here alone at the table, so I do what any starving

student would do, I flag down a barista and ask for baggies to go—then I pack all that shit up and head back to my dorm room.

But the whole time I’m walking, one question keeps circling in my mind like a record on a turntable—why shouldn’t I go to the police about Talia ? What does Noah know that he’s not telling me?

[j0kers-light]

Two Steps Forward

Oh this chapter. This one right here had me evil laughing at my computer. What a time.

I dunno why I love writing the interrogation scenes out. Maybe because I like reminding the reader Joker is retelling the story of us and that everything is the past tense? This is him confessing, coming clean about his Light and that does something to me.

You spoiled him rotten on life and he couldn't, in fact he didn't want to go back to the way things were before he met you.Unfortunately that wasn't meant to be. He was Gotham City's most wanted and you were a mere (semi-famous) citizen.

OOOOH! I can’t wait to reveal why Joker turned himself in!!!

"I told you, Bats. I would never hurt her. I... heh, well I made a promise noT to."

Could this be a clue? 👀😏

“Depending on the time... she could be in one place or another, so I can't answer unless ya tell meee."

“Are you implying she's in multiple places? I won't fall for that again." A brief memory of having to choose between two people came and went.

RACHEL!!! I’m sorry I had to use the movie reference!

Joker just wanted you safe. You meant more to him than you'd ever know. He never felt this way for someone before so pure possessive instincts forced him to put your safety above his own in any situation.

Joker, the man you are. I won’t let anyone talk trash about you!

The way you acknowledged his character flaws, (you knew in the end Joker wouldn't change) but you treated him like a normal human being, and it meant everything to him. Joker felt like he changed as a person while remaining true to himself and he would cherish that feeling forever. It was hard to describe the way you loved Joker and he felt like a fool for throwing that bond away, but he had to. It was all to keep you safe.

👀 hehe…

“Not at first. I was many things to her but never the bad guy. I tried so hard to make her hate me but she's.. something else. She would cry and get mad— but she always forgave me afterwards. Nothing I did scared her away. Say Bats! Would you believe me if I told you My Light and I started out as..."

THAT FLIPPING TRANSITION WAS SMOOTH CHAOS!

Joker merely smiled wide. God, you so desperately wanted to brush his teeth. But that was another fight to get into later. He would probably threaten you again but you didn't care. You hoped they weren't permanently stained.

Confirmed: they are not.

Your bathroom was straight out of a magazine. Joker whistled lowly. "How much are your uh, royalty checks? I should change professions."

I’m so glad I created this apartment in the sims 👏🏾👏🏾

“Don't you wanna stay? I might.. slip and hit my head on your opulence." He grumbled, looking around the fancy room. You never knew when Joker was living up to his name or just being honest. His sardonic humor was difficult to pinpoint. "I hope the towel rack takes you out on the way down. I'll be outside."

Writing their banter is so fluid. They just click. ALTHOUGH I would love and stay J.. 👀 if you want me to hold it for you just lemme know 😭

“So.. this is where your ideas are stored. My, my Y/n.. you have quite the uh, imaginative brain." Oh god what did he read? You forgot to hide your notebook earlier! You felt like a teenager catching your mother reading your first WIP for the first time.

We’ve all been there.

Utter embarrassment flushed the tip of your ears scarlet red. The situation became worse when you jumped up and down trying to snatch your journal away from Joker. If you weren't so hellbent on retrieving your notebook, you would've noticed the height difference between you and him.

Size kink activated. No I’m not sorry.

Were you just imagining it? Perhaps, but when you walked towards Joker with arms open wide, he didn't take your pre-offered shoulder to lean on. Instead he didn't move at all, causing you to awkwardly hug him. Only then did he wrap his arms around you and bend down to whisper in your ear. "I happen to like the err story idea on page nineteen. Mind sharing your thought process on how that came to be, hmm?" He pulled you closer, urging you to rest your head on his chest.

Joker, Gotham City's most wanted criminal, was holding you in your bathroom and subtly sniffing your hair. It smelled divine to him and he subconsciously squeezed you tighter because of it. You smelled like rosemary, lavender, peppermint, and some kind of fruit he couldn't quite name. The combination was intoxicating and before he knew it, his hand was snaking up your back and into your hair.

I think you dropped this J

“Stupid jerk reading my stuff, being so freakishly tall, and ugh!" You yanked the last article of clothing out the dryer and into a basket before slamming the door.

Fun fact: this is actual dialogue I said as I was writing this rough draft. The more you know how Chaos brain works, the better. 🤣🤣🤣😣

The quicker he was healed, the faster he could be out of your life, so why did he find himself getting used to staying here? More importantly, why did he want to see you happy again?

Yeah? Why are you getting attacked Joker?

“Do I looK like someone who watches tv?" Joker grimaced. Your left eye twitched but you didn't argue with him.

Do I look like a guy with a cable plan? 🤣🤣🤣🤣 yes.

You yawned. "Real Housewives of Gotham City." Joker resisted the urge to smother you with a pillow. He did however smack your hand away from his plate. He tried to ignore your puppy dog eyes but caved in. The plate had two servings of food, he just wanted to mess with you.

HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE THEM?! Look at my babies! Two steps forward!

The plate of food was long gone and he didn't realize he had sat up halfway into the season in suspense. Joker underestimated just how fascinating a group of housewives could be until today.

Every guy talks bad about reality tv but slick be invested in it!!

You heard him sigh on his end. You still failed to use his first name. "I must confess Y/n, I grew tired of waiting for you to call and asked Barbara for your number. I hope that wasn't too intrusive of me."

Oh Bruce. The lowkey creep you are. Stop acting like Batman. Still love you tho 👀

You whirled around in shock only to find Joker, arms crossed on the couch, looking every bit the murderer he was. His narrowed eyes sent a clear message. He was no joke to be taken lightly.

Hands down, I adore a jealous Joker. He does it so well ugh.

“Oh my dear Y/n... it's you who doesn't know a thing about Gotham's wannabe savior. What has he done for Gotham other than sign a check?"

Ooooooh get em Joker! Bruce is just a pocketbook!!!

“Do you like living, Y/n?" Joker asked. You scoffed. "What kind of dumb question is that?"

Now, I had an anon ask me what I was thinking about with this. We had a dm discussion about it and Joker is trying to pick apart Y/n here. He wants to find her flaws so he can break her. He wasn’t asking if she’s suicidal.

Just what was it about you that made him act so unlike himself? You had a way of confusing Joker.

Our man is going through it you hear me?

But first these ridiculous emotions you stirred up within him had to be eradicated. He would not be distracted by romance and lose sight of his goal. That was his plan– yet you made him toss logic out the window.

“Quit acting like somebody's daddy. The city is on a curfew so no one will be out anyways. The most dangerous criminal is currently sleeping on my couch, scolding me like a strict parent."

Girl you wish J was yo daddy 🤭🤭🤭 IN TIME HE WILL BE! 😏

“Where else am I supposed to sleep bunny? With you?" You saw his grin backlit by the bright tv light, making you roll your eyes. You really hoped that nickname didn't stick.

It does.

Your back hit the bed followed by the heavy weight of Joker landing on top of you. For someone so tall and lanky, his full body weight knocked the air out your lungs.

I created this scene simply because I’m petty. Pinned to the bed under Joker? Yes please.

‘Be a good girl..' It was official, you were a goner.

He forgot what he had asked you. He forgot his own name really. The only thought on his mind was what your lips would feel like. He wanted to find out. He would find out.

Haha remember when I teased yall for the longest? I said slow burn.

His Lighthouse Re-Read Thread

Hey hi my loves!!! I've read my own story 14 million times but I never did an official reread thread so thank @jaysmentalspace for what's about to happen! 🖤✨

This will be an interactive thread. Yes, you can join in with your own comments, reblogs, whatever! I will start from chapter one and I guess, review/commentate my own story! I hope you enjoy the ride. There's gonna be fun facts, behind the scenes commentary, who knows. 🤷🏾‍♀️

His Lighthouse masterlist let's get started.