#like I said there are some works I ended up cutting off

[00valentina-writes00]

Sevika eating pussy under a table cause there are people around?

♡♥︎Keep Quiet, If You Can♥︎♡

Warnings: Sevika is a menace, oral sex in a public place, almost getting caught, I pray for you

You don’t know how you let Sevika talk you into this.

A dinner out, she’d said. Something nice, somewhere upscale, just the two of you. And like an idiot, you’d believed her. You’d worn the little black skirt she liked, the one that barely covered anything when you sat down. You’d even let her pick the restaurant, some high-end lounge with dim lighting and jazz humming low through the speakers.

And now?

Now you’re sitting at a table, legs spread just enough for Sevika to be tucked beneath it, her broad shoulders wedged between your thighs, her mouth so fucking deep into your pussy you can barely breathe.

Your fingers are digging into the tablecloth, gripping it so hard your knuckles ache, and all you can do is stare at the half-empty plate in front of you, your lips parted as you try not to let a single sound slip out.

Sevika, the absolute menace that she is, doesn’t make it easy.

She eats you like it’s her last meal, her tongue working you over with slow, practiced strokes, curling deep inside you before dragging up to flick over your clit. Her lips seal around it, sucking just hard enough to make your thighs twitch, her rough hands keeping you spread open so you can’t squirm away.

She’s fucking enjoying this. You can feel it—the way her tongue moves, the way she groans against you like she’s the one getting off on this.

And then—

Oh, fuck.

A shadow falls across the table.

A waiter.

You nearly choke on your own spit, scrambling to school your features into something normal.

“Hey there,” the waiter says, flashing a polite smile. He’s handsome, clean-cut, his white button-down crisp against his tanned skin. “Can I get you anything else?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out, because at that exact moment, Sevika—fucking Sevika—doubles down.

Her tongue presses flat against your clit, slow and deliberate, and then she fucking shakes her head like she’s trying to bury herself even deeper.

You jolt, hands flying to your lap to grip at the fabric of your skirt, as if that’ll somehow stop the way she’s devouring you.

The waiter’s brows raise, his head tilting. “You okay?”

You clear your throat. Swallow. Try to pretend like your pulse isn’t hammering in your throat.

“Y-Yeah,” you manage, your voice embarrassingly thin. “I just—um—”

Sevika sucks on your clit. Hard.

Your fingers clench the tablecloth so tightly you’re surprised it doesn’t rip.

The waiter’s looking at you funny now, his polite smile slipping into something a little more confused.

You need to get rid of him.

“Water,” you blurt out, your words too rushed. “Can I get a glass of water?”

The waiter blinks. “You have a full glass.”

Oh, fuck. You do.

Sevika chuckles against you, the vibration making your whole body jerk.

“I meant—uh—” You suck in a sharp breath, trying to keep your hips from bucking up into Sevika’s face. “A… a refill?”

The waiter glances at your untouched water, then back at you.

You’re sure you look insane—face flushed, eyes unfocused, hands twisted in your lap like you’re trying to keep yourself from falling apart.

“Sure,” he says slowly, still looking at you like you’re a little unhinged. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he turns away, you grab the edge of the table, yanking the fabric up just enough to glare down at Sevika.

Her smirk is fucking filthy.

“Having trouble, sweetheart?” she murmurs, her voice husky, laced with amusement.

You shoot her a murderous look under the tablecloth, but before you can hiss out a threat, she dives back in, tongue swirling around your clit before sucking it between her lips, her fingers tightening on your thighs.

Your back hits the seat, head tipping back as you bite your lip so hard it hurts.

She’s relentless now, fucking devouring you, her tongue fucking into you deep, her nose pressing against your clit in a way that has your stomach twisting, heat pooling low and sharp

You’re close. Too close.

And Sevika fucking knows.

She slides two fingers into you, curling them just right, pressing against that spot that makes your whole body tighten.

Your toes curl in your heels. Your breathing turns ragged. The tablecloth hides her, but it can’t hide the way your legs tremble, the way your chest rises and falls too quickly.

Sevika’s pace doesn’t let up, her tongue flicking, fingers thrusting, dragging you to the edge so fast it’s dizzying.

And then—

The waiter returns.

You barely manage to snap your head up, your hands flying to your lap again, gripping the fabric of your skirt like it’ll somehow ground you.

The waiter sets the glass down, eyes flicking to your face. “You sure you’re okay?”

No. No, you’re not. You’re seconds away from fucking losing it.

“I’m—”

Sevika presses her fingers deeper, curling them just right, her tongue flicking over your clit in fast, precise strokes.

Your whole body jolts.

A strangled noise catches in your throat, your jaw tightening as you fight to keep it in.

The waiter’s eyes narrow slightly, suspicion creeping into his expression.

Fuck, fuck, you can’t do this. You can’t—

“I-I’m fine,” you gasp out, your voice just a little too high, too breathless.

Sevika hums against you.

Your thighs clench. Your stomach tightens.

The waiter hesitates for a second longer before nodding slowly. “Alright, well… let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns to walk away.

And that’s when Sevika finishes you off.

Her fingers thrust deep, her tongue pressing firm and perfect against your clit, and you’re gone—coming so fucking hard you see stars, your thighs shaking around her, your breath stuttering as you force yourself to stay silent.

You grip the table so hard your nails dig into the wood, every muscle in your body locking up as your orgasm tears through you.

The waiter disappears into the crowd.

Sevika doesn’t stop. Not until she’s wrung every last aftershock out of you, not until your body is trembling and you’re sagging against the seat, your legs numb, your heart hammering.

Only then does she finally pull back, her fingers sliding out of you, her tongue giving one last, slow lick before she chuckles, low and satisfied.

You barely have the strength to lift the tablecloth again, glaring down at her.

She licks her lips. Smirks.

And then, the smug bastard winks.

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 731.

Well, after two long years of posting, I’m finally taking a break.

Thank you guys for everything for the past two years. It’s genuinely been so fun making daily doodles. But all good things must come to an end eventually. I’m tired.

What are the plans moving forward?

read below the cut if you’d like to know!!

Taking a break:

Life in general has been really rough lately. Tons of family drama, personal medical issues making it impossible to function some days, and my childhood dog recently passed away a few days after Christmas last year. So it was a real challenge to “keep up appearances” if you know what I mean.

I’ve said this plenty of times in the past already, however I’ll repeat it since there’s surprisingly a lot more new people that have followed since then. I’m taking a whole month off from posting entirely. So I won’t be active on Silksongeveryday until about March 14th. Why? Hopefully it’s obvious but posting daily content for two years straight really does something to you. I’ve grown tired of this blog just a little bit, and I feel stepping away from it for a month will help me reconnect. I still love the game and its community, and I’d hate for my disinterest in a single blog to ruin that. If a month long break could fix that then so be it.

I’m also taking a somewhat indefinite break from daily doodles. I WILL still be posting doodles occasionally every once in a while after I come back from my month long break. However I won’t be doing daily doodles.

So no daily doodles ever again?

There is only one condition that has to be met for me to return to daily doodles.

A Silksong release date is announced.

Which is…let’s face it, a release date might not happen any time soon. 6 years of near radio silence from TC? I’m not expecting much, especially not in a month.

But WHEN a release date is announced I’ll definitely return to daily doodles and do a sort of daily “countdown” until Silksong is officially out.

Will doodle requests still be open?

Yes! Even if I will no longer be doing daily posts I will still occasionally post every once in a while with doodles! So if there’s a specific doodle you’d like to request and you have an extra $1 hanging around, hornet doodle requests are open on my ko-fi!!

What about the current projects that were happening on Silksongeveryday?

I’m still working on them! Just as mentioned before, a lot of stuff happened irl so it’s kind of on the back burner.

For the Hornet Journal Series: I plan to post the remaining entries after I come back from my month long break. Whether I work on them during that month long break totally depends on how I’m feeling. But there may be a likely chance I work on a few here and there on my own time! But regardless, I do plan to finish this project. So no worries!

For Hornet’s Strange adventures: I know it’s been ages since this particular project finished on the blog. Development for the free game is slow going since I’m working on this project entirely by myself with a game engine I’ve never used before. Progress is being made but it’s unfortunately slow thanks for irl conflicts. But, just like the journal series, I do plan to finish this project so I promise it won’t be abandoned!! I just need a break first lol.

___________

I think that’s all I have to say?? But if anyone has any questions, asks are always open and I’m more than happy to answer just about anything!

Thanks again for the wonderful experience, it’s been an amazing journey with you guys <3

See you all in a month!!

[neontiger]

~♡~ valentine's night in ~♡~

MDNI 18+

It's the Valentine's day special with Jason Todd! ♡ I was in a hurry to get this one out, so sorry if you find any misspellings or slightly wonky grammar ♡ Always thank you for the love ♡♡♡

~♡~

The out of order sign had been hanging on the elevator at your apartment complex for the past week, and it was the first thing that greeted you when you stepped into the lobby after a hectic Valentine's Day at work. You'd spent the past six hours trying to keep up, running through tables and doing your best to keep all the damn couples satisfied. Meanwhile you were spending the night alone, while your boyfriend was off fighting crime or whatever.

Deep breath. Jason's good, better than your previous relationships by a long mile, despite the nighttime activities that kept him preoccupied a bit too much. Strong, brave, protective, selfless…hot. And so what if it was your first Valentine's as a couple? The two of you could do something later. It was just a day. You didn't need to feed the consumerism.

Still, it stings a little in your heart – and your tired, aching feet – as you climb the stairs to the third floor and the apartment you know will be empty. You tug free the keys around your neck and unlock the door. The click is deafening, echoing off the crappy vinyl tile of the hall.

You shove the door open with your shoulder because it sticks. You're not so sad you're angry. You're not jealous of those couples at work. Nope, none of the above. You're fine. It's fine.

Light blooms through the studio apartment when you flick the light switch on your right. You freeze, a deer caught, eyes growing wider as they sweep over each new thing. The kitchen counter is gone, buried under flowering bouquets: camellias and carnations in pinks, reds, whites; baby’s breath and aster; red roses, petals falling on the floor, a path for your feet to follow.

The path takes you past the couch to the bed, where the butter soft petals cover the bed, wild and chaotic save for the heart that takes up the center. On the pillowcase is a stuffed cat, pink bows on both ears, wearing a shirt that’s too familiar with its red bat-like symbol on the chest. On either side of the plus is a heart-shaped box of chocolates, each nearly as big as the pillow. Candles sit in wait, columns of red and pink wax, on your nightstand. Then the windows – the curtains are different, not your basic black-out ones, but heavy red and decorated with ribbons around the rod. Draped over the armchair by the window – the one you sit in as you stare out the glass, wondering where Jason is, if he’s safe – is a dress in deep wine, the fabric like velvet, a bow in the back and the bodice cut low. The kind of dress you’d wear at some fancy restaurant with crisp white tablecloths and crystal wine glasses and market priced fish.

There was so much all at once. You’d missed Jason sitting on the couch, a smile plastered on his face as he watches you take it in, delighting in the way your mouth hangs open and your eyes dart around from flowers to bed to the windows and end up on the chair. He gets up to linger closer, arms crossed as he waits for you to notice him.

“Shit.” You look up at Jason, smirk on his lips and white tuft of hair curling over his forehead. “I thought…you said you were busy.”

“I was busy.” He gestured at the apartment. “I never said what I was doing though.”

“Yeah, but…all this?” You look around again, the room growing blurry, then him – your lower lip trembles and he barely has time to register the change before you burst into tears. He wraps you in a tight hug and presses his lips to your forehead as you snivel against his chest.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled. “I'm tired. But it's…” You lift your head and clear your throat, smearing your tears on your cheeks with your palms. “Thank you. It's perfect, Jay.”

Jason lifts your chin and leans to meet you for a kiss. It's wet, tears streaking your flushed face, and his hand is hot as it strokes your cheek softly. Thankfully it's a short kiss, because you're not sure how long you can remain standing.

“I got you stuff for your bath too,” he says, straightening up. He wipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye with his thumb. “But your tub's kind of sad. I don't think we'll both fit.”

He’s right – it’s barely big enough for you to lay down comfortably, and for him it’s probably a shoebox – but you won’t sit for the slander. “Sorry it’s not Wayne manor,” you say.

Jason laughs dryly. “I guess we have to make do with what we've got, huh?”

Before you can ask, he's taking your bag and lifting the strap over your head and off your shoulder, then your hand. Leading. Your bag is left on the couch as he directs you to the bathroom. More candles sit on the tiny bathroom counter, and balanced partially over the sink is a ribbon-lined basket full of lotions and soaps, bubble baths and soaks, face masks…edible lube?

The pipes behind the shower walls rumble to life, drowning out the click of your tongue as you open your mouth to say something on the matter. Jason takes the opportunity to press another kiss on you, stealing the thoughts from your head and replacing them with a slip of his tongue over yours.

Your butt meets the bathroom counter, knocking into the basket and nearly sending it to the floor. One hand holds your lower back and keeps your body flush with his as the other begins working the buttons on your shirt. You can't tell if it's the sound of the shower or blood rushing in your ears when his kiss moved to your neck, teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh. The front of your shirt hangs open, enough for him to slip his hand inside and cup your breast still clothed in a basic cotton bra. Beige, frayed on the cup, the least supportive thing in the drawer…if you'd known, you would've dressed up underneath.

But Jason doesn't care. Doesn't seem to even notice as he tugs the fabric out of his way to envelop your breast in his large hand, to squeeze and tweak your nipple as he sucks a mark on the side of your neck. Steam gradually fills the space from the hot water running down, accelerated by your bodies grinding together.

You tug up his shirt but get caught trying to pull it off him completely, his attention held on tasting you. “Jay,” you whisper, lips close to his ear. “The shower.”

He inhales deep against your neck, before straightening up to let you remove his shirt. As soon as the dark fabric clears his head he's doing the same to you, slipping your shirt off your shoulders and removing it with as much grace as he can muster, considering how much of a hurry he seems to be in.

You undo his belt, but he takes over, so you move to shed your work shoes and pants. There's no point fighting instinct – your eyes drop to his cock, semi-erect and poking out from that neat patch of hair.

Jason grabs your chin and steers your gaze back to his. He smiles into another kiss and teases, “Did you forget the shower?”

You step into the shower and wince; the water's too hot, turned all the way up. You fix the temperature as Jason slips in after you with bottles in his hands. He sets them down on the edge of the tub and grabs your hips, stopping you from turning to face him.

“Nuh-uh.” He runs his fingers through your hair and tilts your head back, letting the water rush over. “Let me take care of you first. Close your eyes.”

You obey, closing your eyes and concentrating instead of your other senses: the feel of his fingers as they massage your scalp, the water through your hair and trickling down your back…the feel of him, twitching against your butt…the scent of sandalwood, musk, the hint of citrus, as he lathers shampoo into your hair.

“Rinse,” he whispers softly into your ear, and you let yourself be guided back a quarter step, let the water run over and wash away the shampoo bubbles. As you lean back into his chest, lips press gently to your forehead, and fingertips brush down your back and make their way lightly to your stomach. They trace each breast, the touch bare enough to leave you wanting.

“Now turn around.” His hands pull away and give you space to turn in the cramped shower. You've barely opened your eyes before Jason catches you in a deep kiss and they're closed again as you roll with the sensation of him. He grips the back of your thigh and lifts your leg, enough for him to nudge against your slick entrance with his now fully erect cock. You squeeze his biceps and rub against the tip of his cock in an attempt to impale yourself on him.

Jason breaks from your lips. “Little impatient, huh?” He grips your hips and moves you gently off him. You find your back against the cool tile of the wall. “Sit,” he says.

You don't know how well that will work, considering the edge of the tub is barely five inches wide and not nearly big enough for your ass, but you're too soaked not to obey him blindly. You sink down and balance on the edge as Jason lowers to his knees. The water hits his back as he grabs your thighs, supporting your weight as he spreads your legs for him.

He starts with kisses on, around your slit, coming close but not touching your clit, easing you open for him. His tongue dips inside and you gasp, clench around the intrusion. He responds by pulling out and giving your clit an experimental flick. You squirm and slip off the edge of the tub; he tightens his grip on you to hold you in place. Another flick, firmer now, before his lips close around the bud.

Your hands, attempting to hold you stable, slip on the acrylic of the tub’s edge as Jason buries his face against your cunt, sucking on your clit with a steady pressure that’s quick to knot your core. Moments of air come in the shape of him breaking away to bury his tongue inside you again, his nose pressing your clit with how deep he tries to go, how much he wants to taste you.

You whine, head bouncing back against the tile. He knows the sound – you’re close. Back to your clit, to sucking, swirling his tongue around as he traps you and lifts you up the proverbial mountain. Your feet burn and your body tenses up – and snaps seconds later.

Jason slows to bring you down gently, tasting your release as it drips slightly from your lips. Carefully he helps you lower your legs – they feel like limp noodles, and you don’t think you can stand for what you’re praying is next – and grabs you in a kiss. “So perfect,” he whispers, words brushing your lips. “I think…I think we’re clean enough. Yeah?”

You nod. You wrap your arms around his neck as he helps you to your feet again. He shuts the water off and helps you out as the strength is slow to return to your thighs. Neither of you bother getting dressed despite the chill that scrapes over your bodies as you make your way from the warm bathroom to the cool bedroom.

You hardly remember the walk. Jason’s mouth is almost glued to yours, or to your neck, tasting and biting as precum leaks from his tip. You want to reach out and stroke him, ease some of the pressure building in him, but he takes your hand before you can and brings you into the bed. He moves the chocolates, the stuffed cat, to the armchair by the window before sitting down, his back against the headboard.

From the nightstand drawer you fetch a condom; wrinkle your nose when he tries to take it from you, and you roll it down his throbbing length with almost trembling fingers – how bad you want it, want him – no. This is a need.

At first he watches below, as the tip of his cock prods your slippery entrance with ease, as you lower yourself into his lap. But then he remembers that the view elsewhere is so much better – and instead meets your heavy-lidded gaze to watch your face as it contorts with pleasure as you sink down on him. He sighs when you bottom out, hands tight on your hips.

“Good…” he swallows, his cheeks burning. “So good for me, baby. Go slow.”

You don’t want to – fucking need – but you do, dragging your cunt up and tensing around him as you sink down again, the head of his cock hitting deep inside your core. His fingers dig into the fat of your ass and his mouth hangs open as he pants and small moans escape.

You lean and kiss him, arms wrapping his neck as you pick up speed. Your breasts press into his chest, nipples pert from the friction, the excitement. Faster, slicker, walls clenching around him as you bounce in his lap. His mouth finds your neck again and his groans are broken up by kisses planted to your throat, pink blossoms sucked and the nibble of teeth.

Jason’s grip tightens; his legs move, pull up; he’s fighting his orgasm. Your fingers tangle in his hair and pull to bring his mouth back up to yours. His pupils are blown out, glazed over, cheeks red.

“Come,” you whisper.

You delight in watching him meet his end – eyelids fluttering shut, mouth open in a strained moan, fingers tight and unrelenting on your ass as you sink down a final time. His cock twitches with release inside, pumping deep, the condom working hard to keep itself together.

When he calms, you lift and lower yourself slowly a few more times, making sure he’s given you everything before resting your head in the crook of his neck. His hands loosen and move to envelop you in comfort.

Jason sighs. His heart thrums madly under your hand on his chest. “Happy Valentine’s,” he whispers.

You lift to kiss his cheek. “Happy Valentine’s, Jay.”

[gojopill]

a/n. i wanna eat gojo’s ass so bad guys

Inside the confines of four bedroom walls, Gojo lets himself feel. He cries. He cowers. He aches. He lets you dismantle him with steady, capable hands, surrendering the weight of power that’s been pressed upon his shoulders since birth. You take care of him, and Gojo thinks he likes it that way. To be soothed instead of soothing—what a rare comfort. A fucking treat.

“You want some tonight?” You ask him. You always ask. 

And he most definitely responds, “yeah.” 

Infinity gets turned off and set aside. Bony knees sink into the memory foam topper, followed by his hands — thin fingers splayed wide and ready to clutch the sheets. Gojo blushes in that boyish way he does when he’s bare like this, on all fours. A touch traces up the back of his thigh, slow and deliberate, smoothing over flesh until it meets the curve of his ass—slap.

Gojo feels. He lurches minutely, ripping a sharp inhale. “Ouch,” he says with a dry chuckle. 

“Too much?” You massage the afflicted area, smacking a peck over his ass cheek. Gojo shudders. 

“No way.”

It took trust and patience to ease the man into such a vulnerable position. Countless post-mission lazing, reminiscing about the good old days of high school. You let him ramble about his woes, never once calling him annoying. No, you just rub his back and offer better wisdom than any quack shrink he’s had the displeasure of seeing. The memories are hazy; Gojo can’t quite pinpoint when this beautiful friendship soured into sex—when hugs turned to humping—but he knows one thing: whatever this is, it cannot end.

“Did you have a difficult day?” you ask softly. He feels about four years old, answering with a quiet, whiny hum. You’re knelt close behind him, coarse pubic hair brushing the sensitive flesh of his rear, fingertips tracing lazy circles along the dips of his tailbone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A flicker of irritation edges Gojo’s voice. “Right now?” Shimmering, diamond-cut eyes glance back over his shoulder, casting a half-hearted glare through translucent lashes.

“You can if you want. I don’t mind.”

Gojo heaves a dramatic groan, letting his head hang heavy between his shoulders. The jagged ends of his mussed, snow-white hair tickle the bed beneath him. “You got me too worked up to even think about the shit day I’ve had.” Though, now that he’s said it aloud, Gojo thinks that's been your goal all along. His head drops further, voice thick and low, dipping several octaves. “I just wanna cum.”

“After, then?”

“Sure. Sure, fine whatever.”

That seems to satisfy you, so you begin to satisfy him. Two hands pry him wide open before a warm, wet tongue presses into him from behind. This wasn’t the first time you’d done this—eaten him with such ravenous vigor it made his eyelids twitch and his toes curl—but despite that, it always felt so foreign to Gojo. Like this level of intimacy wasn’t meant for hulking, six-foot-three grown men like him. It was the kind of juxtaposition Gojo would mock, he thinks.

“Oh,” he gasps airily. Your mouth has reduced him to a collapsed, weeping thing. By now, Gojo’s chest is pressed into the bed, his flushed cheek squished against his drool-sodden pillow. The soles of his feet have turned white from the pressure, digging deep into the mattress, connected to a trembling pair of legs that work overtime to keep his ass raised for you. His arm, uncomfortably wedged beneath his stomach, bulges with bluish veins that throb from overuse as he desperately tugs himself off, matching the rhythm of your relentless tongue. A bead of sweat rolls down his inner thigh… or maybe it’s your spit. Both, perhaps? All the same, Gojo reaches down to gather the wetness on his fingers, using it as lubricant. “Oh… my God.”

He moans until he can’t anymore. Something in his voice box goes to malfunction, and Gojo is left choking on stuttered pants of pleasure as his hips writhe up and down, up and down— “You’re... g-gonna make me fucking... cum...” he warns, his words breaking between frantic breaths. You hardly falter, sending another sharp spank to the meat of his ass cheek before sinking five fingernails into his skin. Gojo tastes like everything and nothing all at once; like wet skin and comfortable memories. Like masculine musk and spring break. His unintelligent mumbles fuel you—you eat him out until he’s tugging at your hair, tossing your head back and complaining about it being ‘too damn much.’

He lies there on his tummy, breathing heavily into a puddle of his own fluids, offering you a gorgeous view of his toned back. Ripped, heaving, scarred to the nines. Your eyes wander lower, to Gojo’s most private places. Between his legs, glistening, sticky, and damp. Despite his state of disarray, Gojo has never felt so cleansed. You wipe away the remnants of his orgasm, fetch him a glass of water, and help him redress into a pair of sweatpants. He won’t ever give this up. Knowing that every day, week, month, year leads back to your warm embrace, stroking him like he’s just another guy. Like the fate of the world doesn’t rest in his shaky hands. Knowing this, having this, is what gives Gojo strength.

“You still owe me.”

“I know. M’sorry.” He’s curled up like an overgrown kitten, nuzzling his head against your chest. “I’ll get you off in the morning, I promise. Too sleepy right now”

“What? I didn’t mean…” You pause, shrugging as you think. “Well, okay, that sounds nice. But I was talking about your day. You said you’d tell me about it.”

And so he does, albeit with a playful eye roll.

[inthelibrarybtw]

you're gonna go far | three - golf & parties

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where Rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for one, who couldn't care less about him, she's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the Cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing him away but again they don't like each other. word count: 5.2k content: angst! alcohol consumption, cursing, fluff authors note: happy valentines! longest chapter so far and I don't think they are getting shorter. Anyways, thank you for everyone who has been reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. enjoy! <3

He couldn’t stand your cold demeanor towards him for one more second. He was aware he wasn’t your favorite person, but you were never cold to him. Bitchy and a pain in his ass sometimes? Yes, but never cold. You had this warm presence he always claimed to hate, but that was a complete lie. That’s one of the reasons he liked you so much; no matter where you were or what you did, you always made things better, not only for him but for everyone around you. That was also why he felt jealous of how you were with the Pogues, even though he would never admit it out loud. He wanted to be the reason you were smiling, which usually wasn’t how things went, and he was aware it was his fault.  

During the next three days, Rafe avoided going to the Country Club on purpose because he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, and he’d rather not make things worse. He knew you hated him at the moment, so to avoid making things worse, he stayed home. He hated feeling that way; it was as if the thought of you was enough to make his brain short-circuit.  

He groaned for what felt like the millionth time that day. Since three days ago, you had been stuck in his mind. He had been uncharacteristically distracted and quiet; his dad had asked him to pull himself together a couple of times during work meetings and he had barely interacted when he got together with his friends.  

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Topper asked, pausing the game they were playing.  

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his tone indicating he was anything but fine.

“Right, sure, that’s why you have been moping for the past few days like a little boy who lost his mom at the supermarket, because you’re fine… sure.”  

“Not moping, just a lot on my mind.”  

“Like Pogue girl or wor—?” Topper didn’t finish his question before Rafe cut him off.  

“Shut up,” he bites back.  

“Oh! So it is her, huh? What’s her name again?” Rafe shoots him a glare, and Topper lifts his arms in surrender. “Okay, damn! My bad… why don’t we go to the club? A bit of golf might help.”  

“Can’t, I have to help Sarah prepare things for the party.” Topper looks at him, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.  

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You never help her with anything; it’s her party, let her handle it.” Rafe sighs, annoyed. “Come on, man, to release some stress before the party.”  

He stalled for a bit but sighed, giving in. “Fine… one round, that’s it.”  

“Atta boy, I knew you would come through.”  

No, he didn’t forget you worked there and that he might see you, but he was trying his best not to think about that. They made it to the Country Club; Topper had this mischievous gleam in his eyes. He would be lying if he said he didn’t plan this, all to see if you and Rafe could interact again. He had fun watching his friend stumble over his words, but he also knew Rafe was in a better mood every time he saw you, so at the end of the day, it was for the greater good if he saw you.

They made their way to their first hole. Topper didn’t miss how Rafe looked around, giving subtle, constant glances at the trail as they started playing golf. He was struggling to avoid thinking about you, secretly hoping you would show up in your cart, wearing that uniform that fit you like a glove, and… Topper pulls him out of his thoughts by telling him it’s his turn to hit.

—

After your break, you returned to the golf course, ready to continue your round. After a few minutes, you spotted two guys. You prepared mentally to greet them. Over the years, you had learned how to overcome your shyness, but some days, you felt your skin crawl whenever you had to address a club member. When you got closer, you noticed who they were and sighed. You parked the cart, and Topper’s face immediately changed as he gave Rafe a knowing smirk. Rafe turned around and saw you, straightening up as he noticed you stepping out of the cart.  

"Do you ever go to other places?" You smiled but avoided Rafe’s gaze as best you could.  

"Yes, but we just can’t stay away from here." Topper chuckled softly and then turned to see Rafe, who was unusually quiet. It was as if his tongue didn’t work.  

"Will you buy something today, or will I have to beg for tips?" You asked, lifting a brow.  

"We will buy something today, no need to worry," Topper said. He had been there the last few days, and to your surprise, he was nice, unlike other kooks. You had talked briefly with him a couple of times before and could see yourself being friendly with him, not just because your job required you to be nice to them.  

"And we’ll make sure to tip you well too," Rafe said finally chiming in, making you turn to acknowledge him.  

"Okay, good." Topper noticed how you weren’t smiling at Rafe, and as much as he enjoyed the tension, he was curious about what led to this. Rafe, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at you.  

"So what’s the special today?" Topper spoke up.  

"We don’t have specials," you smiled. "But the Bloody Mary has been a bit popular today. Here’s the menu if you want to see what else we have." You extended the menu to them, and Rafe took it from your hand, doing anything but looking at the menu.  

"Yo Rafe, everything good?" Topper asked, noticing he was a bit distracted all this while trying not to laugh.  

"Yes, I'm just… deciding what I want." You stood there, trying to mind your business, but you stole a few glances at Rafe. He seemed different today, or maybe you were just imagining things.  

"Well, while he decides, I want a Bloody Mary and two shots," Topper requested nicely.  

"Bloody Mary, simple or double?"  

"Simple, don’t want to overdo it." You nodded.  

"I’ll just have a beer," Rafe asked quietly, noticing the familiarity with which you and Topper talked, and he hated every second of it.

“Okay,” you said as you walked to prepare the Bloody Mary and took out the shots and the beer they had asked for. During this whole time, Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off you, even if he tried his best not to make it obvious.  

“Bloody Mary and shots,” you handed them to Topper, who grabbed them. “And the beer,” you gave it to Rafe, your fingers touching his slightly, sending a jolt through both your arms, but you ignored it.  

“It’s $30 for the Bloody Mary and the shots.” You turned to Topper, who handed you a fifty-dollar bill.  

“Keep the change,” Topper said, taking a sip. “Wow, this is good.”  

“Thanks,” you smiled, putting the bill away. “The beer is $10.” Rafe handed you the bill quietly, his eyes meeting yours; he could swear you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. You looked away and put the bill away. “No tip this time?” you asked, trying to see if he would bite back. He had been uncharacteristically quiet, and that didn’t sit right with you.  

Rafe smirked. “Oh, you want one?”  

“I did an amazing job giving you that beer. I think I deserve it.” A small smile you couldn’t control formed on your lips. Rafe looked over at you before he dared to speak again. He wanted to make a snarky comment to tease you, but nothing came to mind; he only managed a soft grunt.  

“Yeah, you did a great job.” His voice was slightly strained, but Topper didn’t miss the opportunity to chime in.  

“Come on, Rafe, give her a tip. It’s the least you can do; after all, she’s been an amazing waitress.” Rafe shot him a glare, not finding his comment amusing.  

“I’m not a waitress,” you said, looking at them.  

“Bev cart girl, excuse me.” Topper lifted one hand. “Either way, you’ve been great, and I think Rafe here agrees, right, man?” He nudged Rafe, who just huffed quietly.  

“Yeah, you’ve been… great.” His voice was a bit gruff. He wanted to strangle Topper for making this all harder for him. “You deserve a… nice tip.”  

“There you go,” Topper continued teasing him. “Don’t hold back.” Rafe grabbed his wallet, not without giving another look to Topper, wishing he wasn’t there. Now he didn’t want to look cheap, especially not in front of you. He grabbed a fifty-dollar bill and gave it to you. You widened your eyes.  

“What?” Topper wanted to laugh at your reaction; your cold demeanor with him before was gone in an instant, and your eyes had softened. Rafe was a bit embarrassed, blushing, but it was barely noticeable thanks to the weather.  

“Take it as a…” he paused for a second, looking for the right words. “A token of appreciation… for the good service today and on the other days.” He nodded, knowing what he said sounded very stupid.  

“Uh… this is too much; it’s like five beers. It’s—” Before you could even finish, he shook his head.

“Take it. You deserve it.” But this time, the tone he uses makes you believe his words; he’s not playing, he’s not being an asshole. It was one of those moments where you could maybe see another side of him.  

“Thank you.” You give him a small, honest smile, and he softens at the sight of it, his irritation fading slightly. He smiles back, feeling like his heart might leap out of his chest; it’s genuinely embarrassing for him to feel like this around you.  

“No problem.” His voice comes out softer than usual, and you decide to ignore it, even if it’s noticeable.  

“Well… I should be going.” Topper nods and takes another sip of his Bloody Mary. Rafe, on the other hand, isn’t happy about you having to leave.  

“Wait,” he says, making you turn back to him. Even Topper, who was already walking back to his cart, turns to see what Rafe will do. “Uh… before you go,” he pauses to gather his thoughts, “I have a question.”  

“Yeah, what is it?” you ask, a bit confused about where this is going.  

“Do you work here every day?” He never breaks eye contact with you.  

"I usually don’t work on weekends unless they ask me, and my shifts during the week can vary too."  

“What’s the usual?”  

“Uh… 7 to 3. Sometimes I do overtime, and some days I work just half a shift.”  

“You do overtime today?”  

“No, I get off at 3.” Rafe’s eyes light up at your answer, an idea forming in his mind already.  

“Good. There’s a party at my house today at 7. Why don’t you come?”  

“Oh…” you stutter. This is not how you thought this conversation was going to go. In general, you didn’t know how it was going to go, but this was definitely not it. “I—I don’t think I can make it, but thanks.” You see the way his face drops, and for a second, you feel bad. Then you remember who you are dealing with and shrug it off.  

“Right…” he says, feeling very disappointed about it. You get back into the cart and drive away.  

“Look at you, actually trying this time,” Topper says, patting Rafe’s back.  

“Shut up.” Rafe’s soft demeanor is gone the second you’re not around.  

“Oh, okay, I see how it is. Pogue princess disappears, and you’re grumpy again—okay, okay.”  

“I will knock you out.” Rafe points a finger at Topper.  

“Let’s not do that, or who else will be here to help you with her?”  

“Help? I don’t need help.”  

“From where I was standing, you do need help, or did I imagine her saying no?” Rafe glares at Topper, and he takes a sip of his beer. “Fine… I will shut up.”

—

After your shift is over, Sarah and Kie pick you up from the Country Club and go to Kie’s house to relax. Even though you were probably going to end up going out, it was Friday, so it was a given. Probably another Boneyard party, you thought.

You were lying on Kie’s bed, eating the snacks she had brought while Sarah was talking. You weren’t paying too much attention until she spoke directly to you.

“Earth to Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Golfers can sometimes be a bit too annoying,” you said, thinking about Rafe. Even though he hadn’t been annoying this time around, there weren’t many other words you would openly use to describe him.

“Well, you will forget about those golfers tonight,” she said a bit too happily.

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t read the group chat,” Kie spoke up and then turned to look at you. “Sarah is having a party tonight at Tannyhill.” You felt your stomach drop; it was the same party Rafe had invited you to, and you had said no because you had plans. You opened your mouth to say something, but Sarah spoke before you could even get a word out.

“No, you can’t say no; it’s mandatory. It’s time for you to unwind!” She wiggled her arms as you stared at her.

“I’m tired, Sarah.” You looked at her and then at Kie, pleading for help. You didn’t want to see Rafe after saying you couldn’t go; it was a choice to see him outside your work hours—a choice you didn’t want to make.

“Sarah is right; you need to unwind. Come on,” Kie nudged you. “You can use my shower if you need to. We can go by your place if you want clothes, but you can use mine; they’ll fit you.” She pointed at her closet.

“You planned this, you evil people,” you pointed at them.

“Maybe, but if not, you were going to say no. And it’s at my house; what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Probably Rafe,” Kie said, almost like she had read your mind. You didn’t say anything.

“He's not going to be a problem; he’s going to be with his friends.”

“Oh yay, Topper and Kelce,” Kie says, rolling her eyes. “They are not the only friends he has, and Kelce is not invited.” At that, you perk up your ears; you want to ask why, but you busy yourself with your phone. “Oh, that’s new. Why?” 

“I said the same. He mentioned something about a fight they had over something he said, but didn’t give me many details, and it’s not like I care… but enough about my brother and his friends. You get ready,” she said, grabbing your shoulders. “And you,” she pointed at Kie, “make sure she gets there,” she said while walking to the door. “See you, my beautiful princesses!”

As Sarah exits Kie’s room, you sigh. “Do I really need to go?” 

“Look, I know you’re done seeing kooks every day, but we can ignore all of them today. Other people are going to the party, so it’s going to be fun. Now come on, let’s get dressed.” 

“I do need to shower first.” 

“Yeah, but first let’s see what you’re going to wear.” She opens her closet and starts taking things out. 

“Hey! This is mine,” I say when I see one of my dresses. 

“Well, look at that,” she jokes. “It’s a sign you need to wear that.” 

“It’s a sign that you robbed my closet.” You grab the mini black dress; it was one of your favorites. 

“Sue me, but this is your sign to use it and take it back to your house.” 

You spend a few more minutes looking at the options she threw at your face, picking what she would wear. After finally deciding, she gives you a towel so you can shower and start getting ready for the party you don’t want to attend. You take your time to shower and get ready, and when you both are set, Kie drives you to your house because you need to give something to your mother, allowing you to leave the things you won’t need and take only your essentials to the party. After that, you pick up the guys and Cleo.

—

When you arrived at the party, it was 7:30 p.m., and the music was blaring from inside. There were more people than you had expected to be there at that time, but again, it was Sarah’s party, so of course, there were going to be many people already there. You planned to stay at the party for a few hours, then say you had to wake up early the next day and leave. However, it was easier said than done.

As you walked inside, the music grew louder, and you saw some familiar faces smiling at you as they looked your way. As you and the Pogues searched for Sarah, you began to feel a bit anxious. You shouldn’t feel bad about saying no to Rafe and then showing up… but then why did you? You finally found her in the kitchen, where the snacks and cold drinks were.

“Y/N!!! You look so pretty!” she exclaimed happily as she hugged you first.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Cleo chimed in teasingly.

“Oh, please don’t say that. I’m happy to see you all here, but let’s be honest: when was the last time this girl actually got ready for something other than work?” Sarah stated again, and everyone silently agreed with her. You rolled your eyes.

“At least I work,” JJ chuckled quietly at your comment.

“Ouch?” Sarah feigned offense. “Enough about work. Grab a drink and make yourselves at home. John B is outside, so go. I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, disappearing again. JJ didn’t need to be told twice to grab a drink and went straight for a beer, and so did Cleo and Pope. Kie made herself a drink, and you did the same, but unlike Kie, yours had barely any alcohol; it was mostly just Sprite.

As you walked out of the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of Topper, who looked at you, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion. You hurried away quickly, cursing internally. If he saw you, that meant he was going to tell Rafe whether you liked it or not, but just like Kie had told you, you were going to ignore everyone and stick to your friends.

One thing you hadn’t considered or even thought about was that maybe Rafe would be outside. You didn’t see him, but he saw you when you and the Pogues stepped out. His gaze would normally soften when he saw you, but at that moment, he felt betrayed. Did you hate him that much? He didn’t think you were the kind of person who would willingly lie just to make someone feel bad.

—

As the night went on, you focused on your friends and those who came to the group to talk instead of on where you were. Rafe, on the other hand, was drinking to distract himself from your presence. He had noticed you were chatting with a guy who had approached you. You thought this guy was nice, but Rafe didn’t; he would have done something about it but decided to drink instead. 

You caught glimpses of Rafe, each time with a new girl and always with a drink in hand. Why couldn’t he stick to just one girl? You found yourself caring too much about what he was doing and refocused on the guy in front of you. You weren’t really interested, but it was always nice to meet new people.

“Are you trying to burn a hole in the back of her head?” Topper asked when he noticed the intense gaze Rafe had on you. 

“What?” 

“You are staring.” Topper glanced at you too; he had to admit you looked good. 

“You are too.” 

“Don’t drag me into this, but in my defense, she looks really good.” Topper said with a teasing tone, wanting to mess with him. Rafe took a big sip of his drink, feeling the burning sensation slide down his throat. “Woah, slow down.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“I get it; you’re jealous, but don’t take it out on the alcohol. Drink some water, or you will regret it.” 

“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of that? He’s…” Rafe trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He was talking to you, and you were engaged in the conversation. You were interested, which you usually weren’t with him. So yeah, he was jealous. 

He downed the drink in his hand and kept staring at you as if it were his life’s purpose. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way; he had no power over you, but it was as if you held power over him. If you were his girl, he would make sure everyone knew, but you weren’t, so he had to let you be and let you talk to whoever you wanted, even if the guy wasn't good enough. You deserved someone who could give you everything. He could be… he stopped himself; he couldn’t keep thinking about this. So, more alcohol it was.

You went inside the house to grab a new drink and more ice. He saw you, and before his brain fully processed it, he was already following you. He was a man on a mission, though what that mission was, even he didn't know. He heard Topper saying something, but he ignored it; nothing was more important than getting to you. 

When you got to the kitchen, you felt a sense of relief—no one was there. You grabbed more ice and Sprite; you weren't really in the mood for an alcoholic drink. After pouring it into your red cup, you stayed there, and then Rafe showed up, interrupting your party break just like he had done at the Boneyard. You didn’t want to deal with him alone… again. 

Some might say you couldn't move on from what he said and that you resented him. Well, maybe you did, and you hated it because it felt like allowing him to dictate your feelings. Your thoughts were interrupted by his closeness. Oh, he was drunk; his eyes were different, and he seemed more relaxed than usual, but you noticed something was bothering him.

“So…” he cleared his throat. “Weren’t you busy tonight?”  

“I wasn’t going to come; your sister made me,” you answered.  

“Right…” he paused for a second. “Next time, don’t lie to my face,” he said with annoyance. You huffed at his tone.  

“I’m not wasting my time with you.” You turned away from him, not catching his comment.

“No… come on, I want to talk to you.” He stepped in front of you to stop you from leaving; he was set on talking to you.  

“I doubt it. I know I have nothing to talk to you about.”  

“Yes, you do. We have things to talk about.” The way he said it made it easy for you to know what he was referring to, and it made you angry. He had to be drunk to address it for the first time when he had seen you plenty of times before.  

“No, I’m not doing this today; in fact, I'd rather never do it.”  

“Y/N…” he spoke your name almost pleadingly and a bit slurred. “I know I messed up…” he started, but you quickly interrupted him.  

“Stop it.”  

“Let me talk! I’m trying to make things right, and you’re not letting me!”  

“Yes! Because you are drunk, Rafe! And I’m not having this conversation with you like this or ever. For all I know, you’re doing this just because you are drunk or high or both.” He knitted his eyebrows together at your words.  

“What? I’m not high. Who do you think I am?”  

“It’s common knowledge that the only reason you would ever step into the Cut is for drugs from Barry.”  

“According to who? Your pogue friends?” He felt the anger bubbling up, and you huffed.  

“Why do you always have to say it like that?”  

“Like what?”  

“Like you hate them, like you hate us.”  

“Bold statement coming from you,” he said, the alcohol making it harder for him to filter his words.  

“Excuse me?” You asked, genuinely confused at what he was hinting at.  

“Oh, what? Pogue girl get offended? At least I can say it without having to lie.” You scrunched your face; there was one thing you hated more than anything, and that was being called a liar.  

“I have never lied to you. Actually, I think I have been transparent enough to let you know I can’t stand you.”  

“Oh, I got that clear, pogue. You hate me, I know. You lied to prove your point; next time, just have the guts to say it upfront.”  

“What are you on about?”  

“This party! I invited you; I wanted you here, and you said no.” He grabbed a bottle of some liquor and took a swig of it, the burning sensation numbing, for a second, all that he was feeling at the moment. “You said to MY face you were busy and couldn’t come, and look at you here, having the time of your life, laughing with your friends and talking to other guys who don’t even deserve your attention.”

He took another swig from the bottle of what you now know is whiskey. You were confused, perhaps even in denial about his words.  

“I didn’t know!” you huffed. “I didn’t know this was the plan; I was going to go out with my friends, and I didn’t know this was the place.”  

“You want me to believe you didn’t know, huh? Your little nice act won’t work this time.”  

“No, no, I’ve gotten enough shit from you. I won’t put up with this,” you said, walking out of the kitchen. He stopped you in the middle of the hallway. “Rafe, stop it!”  

“No! You aren’t even listening to me!”  

“Why should I? I’m wasting my time here.”  

“Pardon me, your Majesty. I know there are other people more deserving of your attention than me,” his voice dripping with anger and sarcasm.  

“Leave me alone for once!” You pulled your arm away and walked out of the house, not even thinking twice about it. You thought it was over, but you were wrong.  

“Running away again? That’s all you seem to know how to do every time I say something you don’t like.”  

“You’re an even bigger asshole when you’re drunk,” you huffed.  

“Me? You’re the one lying when I’m trying to be nice to you.”  

“Nice? How? Talking down to me and my friends? Making me feel like I don’t belong here?”  

“Not all of us are natural rays of sunshine, princess.” He stopped. “I… It’s hard for some people. I—” he groaned, “I wanted you here! I’m sorry for—” you interrupted him.  

“You’re drunk.”  

“I know what I’m saying! Stop acting like I don’t. I mean this!”  

“No!”  

“STOP, Y/N! JUST… stop.” He sighed and walked closer to you, making you take a step back. 

“I’m trying here… but you’re being an asshole about it, and I’m TRYING to apologize for something I know I did wrong.”  

“You’re drunk…”  

“Stop saying that, as if it makes my words invalid! I know what I’m saying and I mean every word!”  

“I don’t believe them! Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t believe drunk words; alcohol doesn’t allow you to think straight, and I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” You turned away, ready to walk.

“For someone who claims to always be kind, you are doing a terrible job right now.” You stop in your tracks but don’t look back. “I’m here being honest, and all you do is think the worst of me… you’re just like everyone else…” he said, slurring more as the alcohol finally caught up to him. “I’m actually sorry, princess…” 

You heard the moment he walked back inside, and you finally turned. You watched as he went in and disappeared into his house, leaving you with the silence of the night and your thoughts. Why did he always leave you like this? Always analyzing his words. He sounded sincere; you could feel that, but there were so many layers to the conversation you didn’t want to dissect, yet you knew you were going to.

“You're leaving?” Topper interrupted your thoughts.

“Uh… yeah, I’m tired.” 

“Who is taking you?” No one; you were going to walk. A stupid decision, probably. 

“My friends,” you lied. 'You’re the one lying,' Rafe’s words echoed in your head. 

“Liar, they’re still inside.” You sighed. “Come on, I’ll drop you off. I need to buy more ice, so let’s go.” You didn’t protest and followed him to his car. 

You got in, gave him the address, and he drove in silence. He stopped for a bit of ice at a small store he found when he was closer to the address you provided. 

“Here, it’s okay.” You made him stop beforehand. You didn’t give him the exact address of your house; you were a bit paranoid about sharing it unless it was someone close to you. Topper parked his car right where you told him. 

“Thanks… you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Rafe would’ve killed me if something happened to you.” He paused, debating whether to say something else. “He would’ve done it, but he was too drunk.” 

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “I promise I didn’t know I was going to end up at the party…” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said sincerely. “You don’t owe me or anyone an explanation.” You nodded; you knew that, but it was as if you needed to ensure someone understood. You said your goodbyes and walked to your house, which was just around the corner from where Topper had left you.

You went directly to your room to change clothes. It was supposed to be a good night, and yet here you were, with your feelings all over the place, but mainly feeling guilty.

12:55 AM - Pope “Where are you?”

12:55 AM - Pope “Please tell me you’re alive”

12:55 AM - You “I am, sorry for leaving without saying anything”

12:56 AM - Pope “Still didn’t answer me. Where are you”

12:56 AM - You “I’m home”

12:56 AM - Pope “How? Who? The guy you were talking to?!”

12:57 AM - You “No… Topper… he went to buy ice and dropped me off”

12:57 AM - Pope “Topper? As in Sarah’s ex? tf”

12:57 AM - You “As in Rafe’s friend”

12:57 AM - Pope “Oh…”

12:58 AM - Pope “Something happened again huh?”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m okay, I just need sleep.”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m exhausted, it was a long day”

12:59 AM - Pope “Whatever you need just let me know, fyi I will tell Cleo about this.”

12:59 AM - You “I didn’t expect less”

taglist: @starkeyvhs @oxpogues4lifexo @persiar9 @lenasvoid @angelicameron @purplerose291 @davinashifts333 if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[crappymixtape]

among the stars • part one

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • PART VI ❝ summer ended and everyone went back to school or to indianapolis for ‘real’ jobs – steve’s friends practically begged him to come to the city with them at the end of the summer, couch surf in their apartment until he finds work, but he decides to stay until one rainy night in october something happens – someone happens – and it changes the course of his life forever • 18+ | ( 1.3k, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, extraterrestrials, steve x reader )

B U R N I N G I N T H E D A R K 🎶 oneonta, the album leaf

Rain was coming down in sheets, gathering in the street drains clogged with leaves and filling with water, the yellow quilt-striped center lines drowned out and leaving the road black. A clap of thunder shook the picture frames on the walls of Steve’s apartment, the glass window panes flexing creakily, pulling him up from his spot on the couch as his lamp flickered.

The worst storm Hawkins had seen in years, and of course it hit on Halloween night, scattering any hopes of trick-or-treating into the howling wind.

Pressing a hand to his window, Steve watched the stand of trees at the property line bend like rubber. “Christ…” he murmured, his breath fogging the glass as his eyes narrowed, struggling to see anything out there in the thick, black night.

Ring, ring, ring!

“Shit–”

Steve jumped at the landline jingling from the kitchen wall, heart hammering against his ribcage as he grabbed it off the base, “Hello?”

“Steve? Why do you sound like you just shit yourself?” Robin’s voice crackled through static from the storm.

“I didn’t just shit myself–”

“Do you see this outside?? It’s insane!”

“Yeah, yeah. I see it.”

“On Halloween too! Do you think it’s a curse or something? A witch coming back from the dead to wipe our sorry asses off the planet for burning her at the stake?”

“Robin.”

“Oh! Or that weird guy that lives in the creepy house over by the park? Maybe he’s been like…haunted by a poltergeist or something and it’s telling him to possess our bodies and–”

“Robin.”

“What?”

“It’s just a storm,” Steve said, trying to sound unbothered and completely unaffected by her farfetched theories, but something in the way the wind howled around the corner of his apartment made his skin crawl.

“O-kayyy,” Robin teased in her sing-songy voice, “But when your door gets busted down by some slimy green swamp thing don’t come crying to me.”

“Swamp thing? Robin, you gotta stop watching–”

CRACK!

Lightning split the sky in two, a perfectly blinding fracture, and made it look like the daylight for a second before plunging everything into dark.

“Ste-eve, are-are you st-still th-ere?” Robin’s voice crackled over the line, cutting out as another flash spidered across the horizon.

“What? Robin, you’re cutting out–”

“Can’t-can’t he-ear yo-ou, Ste-e-ve, Ste–”

BOOM!

Another blinding flash of light lit up the dark like the other two, but this one was different. Just as the phone line cut out, a crash sounded followed by an explosion – a bright, orange, burning glow in the trees out Steve’s window.

“What the hell–”

Shielding his eyes with his arm, he could feel the heat coming from the fire that was catching in the dead leaves on the ground, licking up the bare tree trunks. His eyes slowly adjusted against the harsh contrast and the longer he looked the more he realized it hadn’t been a normal lightning strike.

There, at the end of a deep groove cut into the dirt, was a small aircraft of some kind. The windshield was busted out and just a couple feet away from the fire was a body.

And they were moving.

“Oh, shit. Oh, god. Shit, shit, shit–I’m coming! I’m coming!” Steve yelled into his apartment, scrambling to shove his feet into his beat up Blazers, jacket only half-on as he grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen and barreled down the stairs out into the trees.

“Hey! Can you hear me? Hang on! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Stumbling over fallen branches and overgrown blackberries, Steve felt the thorns ripping at his jacket, one particularly nasty one smarting across his cheek, but he couldn’t stop, he was almost there. He could see the person struggling to pull themselves up against a tree trunk, trying to get to safety.

The fire was huge now, engulfing the aircraft in angry, white-hot flames, and the heat was overwhelming, suffocating and pressing in on every part of him. If there was any gas left, there’d be another, bigger, explosion, and soon based on when it’d crashed. He had to get whoever it was to safety.

Tripping on a root, Steve caught himself just as he reached the crash site.

“Shit–how’d you make it out of there? There’s hardly anything left of it–Jesus–this is bad, this is really bad–” he rambled, the words spilling from his mouth as he watched the flames, panic surging through him like a livewire.

A whimper of pain pulled his attention back to the survivor and he shook himself into action, this was not the time for overthinking.

Scrambling over to the tree, Steve crouched down next to the stranger, holding his flashlight overhead to get a better look at their wounds, and he nearly dropped it at the sight before him.

Long turquoise hair, like seaglass and the glittering water down at the quarry, skin tinged purple, shimmering and soft like moths wings in the beam of light, and ears that tapered into points at the ends. They were wearing what looked like a space suit of sorts, but it was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Made from fabric darker than ink and covered in tiny grids of light, blinking in reds and yellows, error, caution, alert.

Leaning in closer, Steve gently pushed stray locks of hair aside and suddenly it felt like the fire had made its way under his skin, but softer. Warmer. Glowing. Strange and curious and he couldn’t help reaching out a hand, his fingertips ghosting over cheeks dotted in indigo freckles, tiny constellations he felt an overwhelming urge to discover.

“Who are you…” he whispered, eyes catching the fragile flutter of a heartbeat at their neck, “…where did you come from?”

And the low, warmth of his voice slowly lifted your eyes open.

Someone, a someone not like you, was close.

Too close.

Danger.

Danger.

Your brain told your arm to move, grab the pod from your thigh pocket, but when your shoulder flexed, pain shot through your arm, sharp and stabbing as little pinpoints of light clouded your vision. Someone was screaming, and when the being hovering over you started to panic, you realized it was you.

You were screaming.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa–okay, Jesus, okay. I’m here to help, I’m Steve. Did you break your shoulder? Is it your arm maybe? Can you move your fingers? Shit–what would Nancy do? Dammit–”

A loud pop! sounded from the pile of wreckage and you both flinched, as this ‘Steve’ shielded you from the angry embers with his body.

“We gotta get out of here, can you walk?” Steve asked, but another crack! from the flames pushed him to stop asking questions and just move. “I’m so sorry, you can hit me for this later,” he apologized, shoving the light from his hand into his pocket and scooping you up into his arms, holding you tight to his chest.

Another earsplitting scream cut the air in two as your whole body cried out in pain and the last thing you heard before losing consciousness was Steve.

I’m so sorry. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get help. It’ll be okay. I promise. I promise.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART ONE OF A ??? PART SERIES – MORE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[bismuthburnsblue]

THE STAYS ARE FINISHED!!!!

I still have to bury a bunch of threads, and I might add a lining in at some point, but functionally!!! They're done!!!

I've summarised everything I did for them below the cut, but!!!!! ah I'm so happy. It's my first time making stays & I'm pretty pleased with the outcome! I'm sure ill find things I want to change some day but for now... yeah I did good

I started off with redthreaded's 1750s stays pattern, but I ended up making a variety of modifications to it, so if you follow the same pattern, yours wont look exactly like this.

from most to least drastic, here's what I did:

completely moved the seam between the side front and side back to more accurately reflect historical patterns

realigned the tabs to be even again after I changed the pattern pieces

redrew most of the boning channels- partly because of my seam change, and partly to angle the bones towards the centre more as i thought the front panel stayed too vertical

took in more on the seams around the bust to fit me better

raised the height of the back panels (for no particular reason, I just liked it)

(heres that side seam!)

I made my stays from three layers- my fashion layer, a cotton drill & a coutil to form the structure, and I used light steel bones to bone the entire thing- as I said as I was making it, I've never found synthetic options offer the support I need.

I bound the entire thing with bias binding to match the light parts of the motifs, keeping it as narrow as I felt I could get away with. The tabs were sewn entirely by hand, right and wrong side, and the top edge was hand sewn on the second side. Overall, it took me about 19 hours to do!

The eyelets are all metal except for the four for the straps, which I sewed by hand, since they're far more visible. It was my first time hand sewing eyelets, and I'm pretty happy with how I did :) The ribbon is a placeholder, but I'm not sure what colour to get for the real ones yet.

The back is spiral laced, as was the historical standard- I probably marked them a little closer than needed, but I like the look of it all the same. I've been lacing them upwards as I've found I need the tension around the waist more than the bust. It makes it harder to lace on my own (or at least securing the knot anyway) but I did manage to do it by pulling the lace firmly, then tying a knot, then loosening it back down evenly again.

The horizontal bone is removable- I made the channel by sewing a piece of twill tape (folded in half, but only because that was the width I already had. The bone sits next to the fabric) along the marked lines. The channel went right into the armpit, so I caught one end under the binding, but tucked the other side of the binding under the twill tape (I'd left it a little loose at the end to make this possible) i then hand tacked the end down, leaving open the short side so I can slot in the bone. It's kind of dirty, but I think it should function- there's enough tension through the curve of the channel that I don't think it'll slide back out, but if I have issues ill find a way to secure it in. The bone I've cut is actually a tiny bit too long, as I have to trim that down at some point, as it's almost out enough to poke me.

I think I want to make some pads to support my bust at some point. The stays fit really well after all my modifications, but I don't have a whole ton to work with, and I feel like I could do with a bit more in the front of the stays to really hold everything how I'd like it to be (at least for this costume, anyway) At the moment it almost acts like a binder on me, which whole cool, is not the look I want.

I'm just! I'm so happy with how these came out. When I bought this fabric two years ago, I knew I wanted to make a pair of stays with it, but they've come out better than I could have ever imagined. I'm so proud of myself and what I achieved here, and I'm glad I put in all the extra work into these, instead of just rushing through something to have the garment for the rest of my costume. I think I made something here that stands on its own. I'm just... really proud. I'm going to bask in the glory of these for a while, I think.

[okasuka]

damian!!’

The safe house was small—barely a cabin, with creaky wooden floors and a single dim light flickering overhead. The mission had gone sideways, leaving you and Damian with no choice but to lay low until extraction. You sat on the edge of the bed, focused on patching up the gash on Damian’s arm while he sat rigidly in front of you.

“Hold still,” you muttered, leaning in closer to secure the bandage.

You were practically draped over him, your breath fanning against his neck as your fingers worked deftly over his skin. Damian’s muscles tensed beneath your touch, but he stayed silent, willing himself not to react. His heart was betraying him, pounding in his chest, and he swore you could hear it.

You glanced up. “You okay?”

“I am fine,” he said stiffly, though his face told a different story. His usual sharp demeanor was gone, replaced with something… uncharacteristically flustered. His ears were red, his gaze darting anywhere but you.

You smirked. “You sure? You look a little—”

“Drop it,” he cut in, clearing his throat. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re all patched up, Your Highness.” You tossed the extra gauze aside and stretched. “Now we just need to get some rest and wait for—”

Your words trailed off as your eyes landed on the bed. The only bed.

Damian followed your gaze, his expression immediately hardening. “I’ll take the floor.”

You snorted. “That’s dumb. It’s big enough for both of us.”

Damian’s jaw clenched, but he begrudgingly nodded. “Fine. But if you encroach on my space, I will push you off.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Prince Charming.”

Hours later, you woke up to find yourself practically curled against his chest, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist. He was still asleep, but his grip tightened slightly when you tried to move.

Your heart stuttered.

You were so dead.

The next morning, Damian’s communicator crackled to life with an update from the Batcave. He answered it groggily, still a little dazed from waking up with you practically curled into him.

“Tt. Understood,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “No, we’ll be fine. Just get here when you can.”

You rubbed your eyes as he ended the call. “Well?”

“The storm delayed their arrival. They won’t be here until tomorrow.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “Guess we’re stuck here.”

“There’s enough food to last,” Damian said, stretching. “We should eat.”

A little while later, you stood in the small kitchen area, attempting to cut vegetables for a meal. The problem? You had a very questionable knife technique. Instead of neat slices, pieces were flying everywhere—including onto your face.

Damian, watching from the side, sighed deeply before stepping up behind you. “You are hopeless,” he muttered.

“Hey, I—” You turned your head to protest, only for him to reach out, thumb swiping against your cheek, wiping away a stray bit of tomato. The moment stretched as he lingered, eyes flickering to your lips before quickly looking away.

You swallowed. “Uh—”

Before you could finish, Damian slid his hands over yours, guiding your grip on the knife. He stepped closer, his chest flush against your back, his breath warm against your ear.

“Like this,” he murmured, moving your hands in a slow, precise motion.

Your brain short-circuited. His crotch pressed lightly against you, and you fidgeted involuntarily, heat rising to your face.

“Stop moving,” he said, voice low.

“Then—then back up,” you stammered.

His grip on your hands tightened. “Not until you learn.”

You weren’t sure what was burning hotter—the stove or your face.

Your breath hitched as Damian adjusted your grip on the knife, his fingers firm over yours. His chest pressed flush against your back, radiating warmth, and his voice—low, controlled—sent a shiver down your spine.

“See?” he murmured, guiding your hands in a slow, deliberate motion. “Steady pressure. No unnecessary force.”

You barely registered his words, too aware of how close he was. His scent—clean, like sandalwood and steel—wrapped around you, and the warmth of his body made it impossible to focus. Every time you shifted, you could feel him, solid and unmoving against you.

“Y-Yeah,” you managed, trying not to fidget again.

Damian exhaled, his breath ghosting against your ear. “Tt. You’re tense.”

“Wonder why,” you muttered, heart hammering.

He hummed, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. “Relax.”

Easy for him to say. He was standing there, all composed and perfect, while you were pretty sure your brain had short-circuited.

Damian guided your hands through another cut, but you barely noticed. The heat of him, the firm press of his body against yours—your breath caught as his hips shifted slightly.

You swallowed hard. “I-I think I got it now—”

“Are you sure?” His voice dipped lower, teasing, almost smug. His grip didn’t loosen. “You seem… distracted.”

Your fingers twitched. “I’m distracted? You’re the one basically on me right now.”

Damian didn’t move. If anything, he leaned in a fraction more. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Your face burned. “I—”

The knife slipped slightly, cutting into the vegetable at an odd angle, and a small piece splattered against your cheek again.

Damian sighed through his nose. “Hopeless.”

Before you could respond, his thumb brushed your face again, slower this time. His fingers lingered, barely skimming your jaw, his touch light but deliberate.

Your lips parted slightly, breath shallow.

“Better,” he muttered, his voice impossibly close to your ear.

The tension was suffocating. You could feel his smirk without even looking at him.

He hadn’t backed up. He hadn’t let go.

And you had no idea what to do about it.

The tension lingered long after Damian finally stepped back, leaving you feeling way too warm. You cleared your throat, pretending to focus on the meal as you finished chopping, while he retrieved a pan from the cabinet.

Cooking was surprisingly… normal. You worked in sync, though Damian kept stealing subtle glances at you, like he was waiting for you to bring up what just happened. You didn’t. Mostly because you didn’t know what just happened.

By the time you finished cooking, the air had cooled slightly, though you could still feel the heat of his touch lingering on your skin.

You sat across from him at the small wooden table, finally digging into your food. “Okay, not bad,” you said between bites. “Maybe I am hopeless in the kitchen, but at least I can follow directions.”

Damian huffed. “Barely.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, the clatter of silverware made you glance up. Damian had dropped his fork.

You watched as he flexed his fingers, wincing slightly—his injuries from last night clearly making simple movements difficult.

“You okay?” you asked, setting your food down.

“I’m fine,” he said, though his jaw was tight.

You exhaled and leaned over the table, reaching for the fallen fork. The angle had you practically stretching across, your shirt riding up slightly, and Damian’s eyes immediately flickered downward before snapping back up.

Smirking, you sat back up and handed him the fork. “Need help, Your Highness?”

“Tt. I am perfectly capable—”

You watched as he tried to grip the fork, only to struggle slightly as his fingers twitched from the strain.

A slow grin spread across your lips. “Ohhh. You are struggling.”

Damian scowled. “I am not—”

Before he could protest, you plucked the fork from his hand, stabbed a piece of food, and held it up to his lips.

“Say ahh,” you teased.

His entire body went rigid.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, his ears tinged red.

“And yet, you’re still sitting here, letting me do this.”

His glare deepened, but after a long pause, he reluctantly leaned forward, lips wrapping around the fork. You pulled it back with a satisfied smile, watching as he chewed, eyes narrowed.

The embarrassment on his face was priceless.

“You look adorable when you’re flustered, you know,” you mused, twirling the fork between your fingers.

Damian’s eye twitched. “Tt. Finish your food before I throw you out into the cold.”

You just grinned. Maybe being stuck here wasn’t so bad after all.

After finishing the meal (and thoroughly enjoying Damian’s flustered state), the two of you cleaned up and sat in silence for a bit. Eventually, Damian stretched, rolling his injured shoulder with a small wince.

“We should spar,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “Spar?”

“I need to adjust to fighting with these injuries in case we’re attacked before extraction,” he explained, already moving toward the open area of the cabin. “You’re the only available opponent.”

You scoffed. “Wow. Such a privilege.”

Still, you stood, cracking your knuckles as you followed him. The floor was wooden but sturdy, and there was just enough space to move without knocking over furniture. Damian took a stance, his movements a little stiffer than usual, but still sharp.

“You sure you can handle this?” you teased, circling him. “Wouldn’t want you getting all flustered again.”

Damian’s expression darkened. “Try me.”

You grinned before lunging.

The spar started slow—testing each other’s movements, feeling out weaknesses. You went easy at first, not wanting to push him too hard with his injuries, but Damian quickly reminded you why that was a mistake. Even with his limited mobility, he was fast, forcing you on the defensive more than once.

Then, in a blur of movement, he caught your wrist mid-strike, twisted, and swept your legs out from under you.

You hit the ground with a startled oof, and before you could react, Damian straddled you, pinning your wrists above your head.

Your breath hitched.

The weight of him, the way his thighs bracketed your hips, the very noticeable press of his body against yours—your face went hot immediately.

Damian didn’t seem to notice at first, too focused on catching his breath. But when you squirmed beneath him, trying to shift into a better position, you felt it.

Oh.

Oh no.

You froze, realization crashing down on you, and that’s when he realized too.

His grip on your wrists tightened, his entire body going tense, but neither of you moved.

Your brain screamed at you to stay still—to not make this worse—but then, without thinking, you shifted again.

And felt him more.

Your breath came out shaky. “U-uh—”

Damian’s jaw clenched. “Don’t. Move.”

Your body betrayed you, another involuntary squirm making the contact even more obvious.

You made a strangled noise. “I—I d-didn’t mean to—”

His eyes darkened, his grip still tight on your wrists. His usual composure was cracking, but he refused to move, his breathing just slightly heavier than before.

Your heart was pounding. You were so screwed.

The tension from the sparring match lingered even after you both awkwardly scrambled apart, avoiding eye contact for the rest of the evening. When the Batfamily finally arrived the next morning, you had never been so relieved to hear the Batplane outside.

Getting back to the manor felt surreal after being stuck in that safe house with Damian for so long. You finally had space to breathe—to think—without his stupidly attractive proximity messing with your head.

But apparently, Damian had other plans.

You had barely settled back into your room, lying in bed half-dressed, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the faintest sound of your door creaking open.

Your head snapped up. “What the—”

Damian stood in the doorway, frozen mid-step like a deer caught in headlights.

Your brain took a second to register why he looked so…stricken.

Then you looked down.

Oh.

You were in nothing but underwear and a sports bra, sprawled out like you had zero shame.

“Shit,” you yelped, scrambling for the nearest article of clothing. Your hand landed on a baggy black shirt, and you yanked it over your head without thinking.

Damian, still rooted to the spot, had turned rigid, eyes locked anywhere but on you.

“Y-you could’ve knocked,” you stammered, tugging the hem of the shirt down over your bare thighs.

Damian cleared his throat, still staring at the floor. “Tt. I knew you were awake.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Why are you wearing my shirt?”

You blinked, glancing down. Sure enough, the oversized shirt you had thrown on was his. You had stolen it from the laundry pile forever ago because it was comfortable, but now that he noticed, your face went burning hot.

“I—I just—” You fumbled, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s—it’s comfortable, okay?”

Damian finally looked at you then, gaze sweeping over the way his shirt swallowed you up. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but then he quickly clamped his mouth shut, ears tinged pink.

A tense silence stretched between you.

“So, uh,” you blurted, desperate to shift the subject. “W-why are you even here?”

He hesitated before stepping fully into the room, closing the door behind him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, what? You just assumed I was awake?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

You rolled your eyes, shifting under the covers. “Well, congrats, you were right. I am awake.”

Damian hovered near the bed for a moment, hesitating, before finally sitting at the edge, his usual confident demeanor feeling just a little more hesitant. “Tt. The manor feels… too quiet.”

You studied him, catching the unspoken weight behind his words. The safe house might’ve been small, but it had been just the two of you—no endless halls, no expectations, no distractions. Just you and him.

And now, back in the manor, it felt like something had shifted.

Without thinking, you reached over and tugged his sleeve lightly. “Well, if you’re so lonely, I guess you can stay here for a bit.”

Damian eyed you for a moment, before exhaling and lying back on the bed beside you.

You stiffened slightly as his shoulder brushed yours, but he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe, he was just pretending not to.

Neither of you said anything for a long time.

But the silence didn’t feel so quiet anymore.

The silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. You tried to focus on your phone, but Damian was right there, his warmth radiating through the covers, his scent—clean, sharp, him—filling the space.

You should have told him to go back to his own room.

You should have.

But then you shifted, rolling onto your side to face him, and Damian did the same. Now, you were inches apart, close enough that you could see the way his dark lashes framed his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw, the way his breath subtly hitched when your knee accidentally brushed against his.

Neither of you moved.

Your eyes flickered down—just for a second—to his lips.

And that was all it took.

It happened fast.

One second, you were staring at each other, and the next, his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you in as your lips crashed together.

You gasped into the kiss, but any hesitation was gone the moment his other hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer. Instinct took over as you pressed against him, fingers sliding into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

Damian groaned softly against your lips, and the sound sent a shiver straight down your spine.

You didn’t even know who moved first, but suddenly, he was on top of you, your back hitting the mattress, his weight pressing you down. His knee slipped between your legs, and when you shifted—oh.

A whimper escaped before you could stop it.

Damian froze.

Reality slammed back into you both at the same time.

You stared at each other, breathless, lips swollen, faces burning.

There was a long, horrified pause.

Then, at the exact same time—

“We are never speaking about this again.”

You both shoved away from each other, scrambling to opposite sides of the bed like touching again would kill you.

The silence that followed was excruciating.

After a long moment, you dared to glance at him. He was staring at the ceiling, jaw clenched, face so red it was almost funny.

If you weren’t currently dying of embarrassment, you probably would’ve laughed.

Instead, you swallowed and croaked, “Good talk. Good—good chat.”

Damian exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah. That’s—yeah. That’s probably smart.”

He got up quickly, but not before snatching the pillow off your bed and chucking it at your face.

You yelped, throwing it back at him. “Asshole!”

The door shut behind him.

And then, finally alone, you covered your face with both hands, groaning into your palms.

What the hell just happened?

[ap0cryph0n-in-space]

SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 1 FINALE

CHECK THYSELF AND ENSURE THOU HAST READ THE FINALE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE

Hello. So Buddy’s a key.

Prepare for more mind blowing never-before-heard statements such as that last one.

As we can already assume, Buddy was not always a key: he was human before being put through a (dubiously ethical) process that turned him into a key, presumably by whoever the “Old Man” of Ex-Libris is. He and Violet were working together to turn him human again, and we don’t know exactly what they need to do that yet.

So far what we do know is Buddy’s been specifically following Chase into the books: not the keys themselves, or Deacon and Prunella.

Bearing that in mind, I would like to propose that in order for Buddy to stop being a key, he needs a candidate to take his place. And for some reason outside of his control, the most likely candidate is Chase.

Not sure why exactly, maybe Chase’s personality matches the character key he would correspond to— which is proobably our resident Hero key, Goldie. I’ll get back to that, just a sec—

Punko said a couple of things in the season finale Q&A that caught my attention, mostly about Buddy’s irises being drawn differently from the human characters. It turns out they’re moonstones with a smooth cabochon cut instead of the OG keys’ faceted gem irises. But I’ll get back to that too, hold your horse gods—

OK, Chase being compatible with Goldie. The other thing was when Punko mentioned that in the book world, key holders tend to get sorted into either hero or side-character based on how much they take control of their life choices. Specifically that Deacon’s arc the whole season thus far has been about becoming the hero of his own life; when asking for things to go his way doesn’t cut it and especially when his friends and family are in danger, Deacon learned he needed to make things go his way himself and just take action. (Can relate…)

When Buddy said Chase “might be useful after all,” in episode 23, it was after Chase had made so much craziness happen in a book about cats trying to “Parent Trap” Stagtown cameos, that it was going fully off the rails- and through quick thinking and sheer trying things he got the book to a satisfying and frankly more entertaining conclusion. You know, Chase is just like that.

My guess for how Buddy needs to swap places with Chase is he just needs Chase and Goldie to be in the same book together before he initiates something on his end, and then Chase would… merge with Goldie in the book? Which makes me worried for Goldie too, if that’s what does indeed happen😥Idk. (Maybe that’s part of why Buddy talks like the most Disney Villain mustache-twirling theater nerd of all time, too, his mind’s been combined with the Villain key’s to become Nox.)

Buddy didn’t know that they had found Goldie until Prunella revealed herself, finally he has everything he needs, and I think he was hurt enough to unhappily consider going through with the plan- but then of course drama happened and they came to an understanding in the book and it was GREAT🥲

Still, even though Buddy’s decided he won’t go through with it, I have a feeling that it will end up happening somehow. Because Drama.

But enough of that, all that theory up there? Who cares, whatever, that’s all build up for my REAL point:

Buddy’s key form has a moon theme, and moonstone cabochon eyeballs,

Thus I propose

Get ready

You’ll never believe it

Chase with

☀️SUN☀️ STONE YORBS

(My god, what a feat of Logic)

Oh!! Oh oh, and Yes, the metallic striations (usually hematite?) can appear teal, pink, and yellow AKA Chase’s colors as a card-carrying 1980’s vaporwave pop punk lad— it’s almost like it was planned or something 😈

*maniacal cackling

ROCKS!!!!

[beesonhoneytoast]

♡ valentine ♡

armin arlert x reader

a/n: i wanted to write a lil fic for my baby armin cos it’s love day!! i hope this isn’t too ooc for him ><

written to the lyrics of ‘valentine’ by laufey

cw: slightly jealous armin, weirdos tryna win your heart (and failing to do so miserably), friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, swearing, armin is inexperienced (but bless his heart he’s trying his best), armin nerds out about the sea, aot spoilers ofc, armin spirals a lil, hurt/comfort(?), crying, reader is kinda a bully but in a lighthearted way, this is kinda somewhere between the events of the timeskip

word count: 1.9k

you hadn’t been one to accept affections just because.

so, when a random scout came to hit you up, you had to politely decline.

you would’ve liked to say that was the end of it, but they were persistent that you be their valentine for today. yuck.

“cmon, hun. why don’t you give me a chance?” they teased you.

“i said no thank you.” you repeated yourself, your tone slightly wavering with the discomfort that this person brought you. you had turned your body away from them, shielding yourself from their pestering.

i’ve rejected affections for years and years

just as they were going to make some sort of advance on you, you were suddenly being defended by armin arlert.

he shoved himself between you and them. “hey, piss off why don’t you? they said they aren’t interested. so if you really do love them, i suggest you respect their wishes.” he demanded them.

the words rolled right off armin’s tongue, like the spirit of erwin had possessed him, and urged him to say those words. the thought hurt to think about. it made him think he really was trying to replace erwin.

oh god, this was awful. how could armin think himself like that? like he could possibly be on erwin’s level—

“armin?” your voice cut through the cyclone of anxiety ransacking his mind.

now i have it. and damn it, it’s kind of weird

his ocean eyes quickly snapped to look at you. “y/n? are you okay? they didn’t hurt you, did they? i swear, if that dirtbag laid a finger on your pretty face, i—”

armin’s words caught you off guard.

he tells me i’m pretty, don’t know how to respond

“woah, slow down, armin. i’m fine. thanks to you. so don’t worry that pretty blonde head of yours too much.” you chuckled, patting his shoulder.

i tell him that he’s pretty, too. can i say that? don’t have a clue

armin’s face reddened at your assurances and your touch. his lips pursed and his head ducked down shamefully, his eyes fixed on the floor.

with every passing moment, i surprise myself

“you got a valentine, armin?” you asked him, walking off with the blonde trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

“um… no. i don’t really… know how any of that stuff works. nor do i think anyone is really interested in being my valentine. especially not after what happened.” armin admitted.

you turned at this. you knew that the decision to save armin’s life was not one made without minor cost. but as you heard it, it seemed commander erwin was already dead before captain levi could even make a decision.

you had also heard that in the midst of armin becoming a titan, he had eaten bertholdt and gained the powers of the colossal titan. he never wanted this. he never asked for this. but it’s happened anyway.

and it was up to you to accept him for that.

i’m scared of flies, im scared of guys. someone please help

“armin, look at me.” you guided his chin up, his big blues fixing on yours.

“what is it?” he asked you with desperation on his words.

“what’s happened to you during the fight against bertholdt and reiner was completely outside of your control. but you know what was and what i think was very brave and very selfless of you? your willingness to die for your best friends. and i strongly believe eren and mikasa would say the same.” you wanted to drill these words into his brain. you weren’t about to just let someone as sweet and intelligent as armin get away with this self deprecation of his. not ever.

prickles of tears gathered on armin’s lash line. his head shook and his hands held yours at his cheeks. “y/n, why… why do you do this? why would you tell me all these pretty words?”

you used your thumbs to wipe away his tears as they tripped over armin’s lower eyelids. “because…” you started.

you thought of everything armin had gone through in the last several years. from being bullied as a kid, losing his family, being drafted in the army, having to watch his best friend be eaten by a titan and thinking he was killed, then with what happened in shinganshina with the fight against the armored and colossal titans… yeah, there was no way you were gonna let armin self destruct like this.

“you’re not just gonna be abandoned because you went through things that happened outside of your control.” you told him.

your words clearly touched armin, judging by the tears that now streamed down his blotchy red cheeks. his shoulders twitched, and his hands balled into trembling fists against your sleeve.

“armin, are you…” you began, but armin’s next action would be one to silence your worries.

he used his grip on your arms to pull you towards his body, his lips meshing with yours in a moment’s notice. his eyes were squeezed shut like he was bracing himself for the impact. as though his decision was rash and he didn’t know what he was doing. no, that wasn’t it. it was more like…

like he was scared you’d push him away.

but who were you to push him away? you wanted to pull him even closer, but he would pull away from you before you could even act on your thoughts.

fear flooded his wide eyes. “oh my god, i am… so sorry, y/n.. i—”

nope. you weren’t about to hear it. you grabbed him by the collar of his uniform shirt, your lips silencing any qualms about his actions.

armin’s hands trembled against your shoulders awkwardly. he had no clue where to put them. adorable. just adorable. he was such a dork and you loved him. he was such a romantically awkward dork.

your romantically awkward dork.

once you pulled away, armin seemed astounded. he stared off into space, blinking wordlessly for a few minutes.

“i… i don’t… why did you… do this?” armin panted, shaking his head slightly with his disbelief.

you chuckled at his oblivion. “i think a certain three words are in order to sort of… clarify things.” you leaned in towards his ear, tucking a strand of his blonde hair back behind armin’s ear. “i adore you.” you whispered against the shell of his ear.

the little gasp armin emitted didn’t go unnoticed. “you… what?”

you leaned back to look at his blushing face again. “i don’t think i need to repeat myself, arlert.” you tutted.

‘cause i think i’ve fallen in love this time

red gradually painted his skin from the inside, a high pitched squeal leaving him. “uhh… wow. okay… i’m… you… you…”

“you…?” you mocked him, the action lightheartedly intended.

“you… oh, you tease!” he whined, burying his face in his hands.

you cackled at his flustered mood, prying his hands from the hidden visage. “not my problem that you’re so fun to torment.”

“no fair, you’re so mean to me!” he whined, feigning hurt.

“yeah, i know. aren’t i just the worst? aren’t i your big bully?” you jeered, getting all up in his face.

armin pouts and crosses his arms. he was acting like a child. it was endearing, if anything. especially when he turned his back towards you.

“hey, now. don’t be like that, armin.” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around him from behind, not missing the little shiver of his body.

“be serious. why do you love me?” armin solemnly asked, turning back to you.

you exhaled through your nose at this, creating a sigh. getting to his heart would be hard. but you were willing to do it. “armin… you’ve gone through so much hardship over the years. but… that’s not why i love you. that alone would just be pity. see; you’ve always fought for what you believe in. you’ve fought for the livelihoods of your friends, your comrades, the commanders, strangers… and i can’t help but feel a sense of pride and affection when i look at you. the way you smiled that day on the beach; how you lit up at first sight of the vast, uncharted horizon we arrived on. you are intelligent beyond any means of comparison. your empathy and the grace you have displayed for others… your worry for even people like bertholdt who have committed atrocities. there’s just… so many things about you that i could say… so many attributes that i could admire… how could i not love you?”

the end of your monologue moved armin to more tears. a sob hitched in his throat.

you only offered him a sympathetic smile, not saying a word as you opened your arms to him.

armin was reluctant to accept this embrace, even though his earlier actions were bold. but he did eventually step towards you and allowed himself to receive your affection. he was tense, but he would soon allow himself to relax when he assessed the situation to be safe. he was safe. he was home.

you both haven’t the faintest idea of how or when, but you suddenly were slow dancing in one of the common areas, soft love songs playing on the gramophone.

then you found yourselves frolicking amongst the couples on the streets of this seaside town.

armin treated you with any sweet or savory treats you wanted, and you would find a peculiar little stand.

it sold bouquets of what you thought were flowers you’d never seen before.

but as you got closer, you realized they weren’t flowers; they were seashells.

you of course had to know of armin’s affinity for the sea, so it would be a crime not to get him one of them.

you were lucky you had caught armin in a moment where he was distracted and observing another stand, so you took advantage of his distraction to purchase one of the ornate bouquets and held it behind your back.

when armin turned back to face you, he immediately took notice of your hidden arm.

“y/n… what are you hiding from me?” he wondered.

“hiding? pfft, what would i be hiding from you?” you dismissed him in a way that intentionally made you so obvious. you just wanted to rile him up first, and pique his interest.

“y/n, come on!” he giggled, the little sound echoing in your brain like it was a song sung in an empty church.

“okay, pushy pants.” you submitted to his nosiness and presented the shell bouquet to him.

immediately he was hyperfocused on the present. “wha- a bouquet of… shells?” he furrowed his eyebrows at it, clearly struggling to see the fact that it was no ordinary bouquet. he took it up into his grasp and observed the different shells that formed the bouquet.

“those are worm snail shells… conus… miter…” god damn it, he was really gonna start nerding out and start naming all the types of shells here, wasn’t he?

you couldn’t help the little snicker that flew from your mouth.

“what?” armin whined defensively.

“you’re such a dork.” you shook your head laughing heartily.

“i know, i just love the sea…” he muttered sheepishly.

“but hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. i think it’s pretty cute, honestly.” you added, not giving him room to argue.

you made your way to the beach, armin still cradling his new shell bouquet against the crook of his elbow.

you both sat on the shoreline, your shoes and socks were discarded so you could soak your feet in the crawling waves.

now the sun was just sinking below the horizon line, so that it may rise for those on the other side.

for the people that you and armin longed to meet, who were now waking up for the day.

you wanted to know if they really would treat you as monsters and traitors who abandoned them for the titans to take.

but as for today… you’d rather not think too much on that.

you and armin shuffled so you were sat side to side on the soft sand of the beach, leaning on each other. your fingers intertwined together on the cool sediment.

i blinked then suddenly, i had a valentine…

story written by @beesonhoneytoast

characters belong to attack on titan: 進撃の巨人 © 2009

[dewdwrite]

A perfectly normal Dungeon Meshi fiction

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63104998

It seemed like every day they traveled in the dungeon it got more precarious. Traps were frequent and they ran into monsters nearly every other day. Laios was over the moon getting to fight and then babble on about the monsters they found for hours after the encounter. Senshi didn’t care as long as they could eat it. Marcille and Chilchuck on the other hand were less than excited at the thought of fighting monsters as well as eating them. If it wasn’t for bonds they forged together this party would have split long ago.

They had spent hours in a labyrinth that Chillchuck insisted needed to be searched for traps at every step. Progress was incredibly slow much to the satisfaction of his nerves and the disappointment of everyone else. It had been over a day since the last meal they shared and it was making them restless. Marcille was having a particularly hard time. After hours of tip toeing where the halfoot told her to, her knees were shaking and she was leaning heavily on her staff. She didn’t always eat her fill every night, despite how much energy she needed for traveling and spell casting. Her taste buds were fickle and if she couldn't get past the taste of something she couldn’t force herself to eat it. Combine her picky eating habits with Laios and Senshi’s nature to cook everything in sight and you got an underfed elf.

Marcille had been hungry for hours, since she woke up in fact. She only managed a few bites of last night's dinner, a questionable curry that had god’s know what in it. “Right here next, once I open this gate we should be in the clear.” Chillchucks voice brought Marcille back to reality. She looked where he was pointing and stepped carefully. Laios and Senshi followed one step behind mirroring the path. Chilchuck was preoccupied with a lock, the only sounds in the room were the clicks and clacks of his thieves' tools fiddling with the tumblers.

Another sound filled the halls of the labyrinth. A low droning growl that echoed off the floor and halls. Its point of origin was the stomach of a very exhausted Elf. This wasn’t the first time the entire party had heard Marcilles obnoxious digestive system, In fact it was a sound that they were so accustomed to they instantly recognised.

“Sounds like it's time to make camp Senshi.” Chillchuck said as he got the lock off and pushed the gate open. Marcille clutched a hand over her stomach as she followed behind the half foot with Laios and Senshi following close behind.

Marcile felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. She felt like she was always the reason they were stopping just because her stomach was the loudest. She took a moment to tighten the thin belt on her robe and compress her hollow stomach. “But we’ve hardly made any progress. We’re never going to find Falin if we keep traveling like this!” She said dramatically.

“Marcille, I want to find my sister just as bad as you do. Part of doing that is staying safe and well fed.” Liaos said

“We’re never going to find her if all we ever do is make camp and cook!” She replied, continuing to whine. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. “All we ever eat is gross food anyway.” she said, starting to sniffle.

Laios was a bit taken aback at her reaction, luckily Senshi stepped in before he could put his food in his mouth.

“Marcille, you didn’t seem to enjoy our meal much last night. Is there anything I could do to make this one more palatable for you? If you don’t eat you're going to get weak and that's bad for all of us.” Senshi said as he dug through his pack checking his ingredients.

Marcille sighed. Senshi was observant and blunt, but he was right. That curry was thick. All the odd ingredients were cut too small and the texture ended up like a spicy porridge. “I'd really like some soup.” She said, clutching a hand over her stomach. Another wave of hunger pangs gnawed at her insides as she thought about what she'd like to eat. “Not a stew. Something with a thin flavorful broth with lots of herbs and vegetables.” She was practically drooling as she spoke and she felt her insides undulating excitedly at her description.

Chillchuck groaned as she spoke. Marcille was the pickiest one out of the group and this wasn't the first time she described her ideal meal. She reminded him more of one of his daughters than a full fledged mage.“Will be able to make a safe camp in one of these passages. There should be enough space for us to fit and enough ventilation for a fire.” He said still focused on finding a place to actually make camp. The group, only partially distracted, managed to follow the halfoot and soon enough find an acceptable place to settle down.

Senshi was deep in thought as the others made camp. He spent the entire time muttering to himself and taking things out of his pack and pouches. “I think I can make you what you’re craving, Marcille.” She turned to him looking up from her spell book she was struggling to study. “Really Senshi?” she asked nearly in disbelief.

“Mhmm.” He nodded and set out a pot over the fire. “I've still got some of that meat from the Basilisk and the bones. I could make soup in just a few hours.

Marcilles eyes lit up at that promise and her stomach clenched with aching hunger. “You can?”

Senshi nodded and got to work.

First take the leftover Basilisk bones and put them in a pot to boil with all your spices. Chop your vegetables, leaving them in large pieces so they'll still have some crunch. Take the Basilisk breast and fry it in a pan with a little oil on both sides. Take it out early so it can finish cooking in the broth later. Strain the bones from the broth and toss them into the fire for good luck. Deglaze the pan with a bit of that bone broth. Stir it to get all the fond off the pan, then add your vegetables.Toss them in some more herbs and spices then add them to the pot with the meat. Let it simmer for a few hours and….it's done.

Marcille took a deep inhale of the steam coming from her bowl. It smelled exactly like chicken soup. Heavy on veggies, herbs and spices. Her stomach growled from the mouthwatering aroma and she brought a spoonful up to her lips trying the broth first. Her eyes went wide before closing in pure bliss. It was exactly like what her mother would make for her. She moved the spoon aside and took two big gulps of the rich broth. She felt it land in her empty stomach and it gurgled joyfully. “This is just what I wanted, Senshi , thank you.” She said as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Senshi gave an appreciative nod as he spooned out portions for the rest of the party as well as himself. “I’m not used to cooking elven style cuisine so I'm not as practiced. I’ll try to keep your palette in mind more in the future.” As he spoke Marcille could barely hear him, she was so enthralled by the act of eating a meal she actually enjoyed.

She was the first to ask for a second helping which Senshi happily obliged. The meat was soft and broke into strands and the veggies were large with just a bit of crunch, she couldn’t stop eating. It was after her third bowl that the feeling of fullness actually hit her. She could actually feel her upper stomach pressing against the inside of her robe. The thin belt that she tightened around herself hours earlier was digging into her midriff and she subtly loosened it.

After a few minutes she excused herself to her bedroll. She frequently felt self conscious being the only woman in the party. She was given space whenever she asked for it. Which she was always grateful for, especially now as her stomach groaned ominously. Her insides were churning the massive amount of food she crammed into it. It didn't quite hurt, not that she was familiar with the sensation of a stomach ache from overeating, but it felt…taxing. The suddenness of going from absolutely starving to full happened much too quickly.

Laying on her back she tried to distract herself from this foreign sensation by reading her spell book once again. Similar to last time her stomach was too vocal to be ignored, but for a much different reason. The weight of it pressing down on her thin frame was enough to force her to turn on her side. She could feel the contents of her stomach shift with her entire body and it produced another wide array of noises as she did.

Despite loosening her belt earlier her robes still felt tight and restrictive. She glanced back over at the party for a moment before starting to remove her outer layer of clothes. Her robes alone were three layers of warm cotton fabric to keep herself warm. Underneath it was another layer of fine white cotton she typically slept in, It was much looser, hanging on her body slightly. A wave of relief washed over her as her midriff had room to breath. Satisfied she carefully folded up her robes and took her spell book back out.

Her guts worked overtime to break down her meal, churning audibly. It was an odd sensation to be so focused and intune with your body. She put a hand over her mouth to suppress a hiccup, another clear sign she ate too fast. Reading was a struggle, her eyes wouldn't stay open. The exhaustion of the day caught up with her and her body was begging to do nothing but digest. Closing her spellbook she finally gave in with a sigh. She was already fading in and out of consciousness sitting up. After laying down she was out in minutes snoring softly.

As she slept her soft snoring was overshadowed by her tumultuous insides. The soup was being boiled all over again making her body warm content. The sounds were audible all through the camp but it was preferable to the usual discontent growling of her stomach going underfed. If anything these sounds were a soothing white noise that lulled the entire party into a proper slumber.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

In Another Life

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Prompt - ‘In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.’

Bucky Barnes was nothing if not a man who felt too much. He’d fight fiercely for those he loved, he’d make an idiot of himself to get the attention of the woman he loved. He let himself get knocked around if it meant he could catch a glimpse of her scowl that he’d always manage to turn into a smile.

“Seriously, Barnes?” You groan as you walk into the medical tent, seeing the familiar sight of James Barnes on one of your beds.

“It wasn’t my fault this time!” He lied, watching as you shook your head but there was a fondness to it.

Bucky could read you like his most favourite book at this point. You’d been appointed to 107th to join their medical team and it didn’t take long to capture the attention of the Sergeant. He had fallen for you in that first meeting, watching you boss around men twice the size of you, putting them into place without fear, putting him in his place when he tried to play off a pair of broken ribs as nothing.

Since then Bucky had done anything to be around you, he’d had his nose nearly broken, he’d fractured his wrist, he’d faked more stomach bugs than he could count. You didn’t buy any of them, you never did and yet you still let him take up one of the beds in the medical tent for hours on end. 

“We both know that’s bullshit.” You called him out and he didn’t even try and look guilty anymore, instead he shot you a bright grin and shrugged in a what can you do way causing you to roll your eyes though there was no heat in the gesture. “What is it this time?”

His smile widened impossibly as he lifted his shirt up, noticing the way your eyes took in the sight appreciatively before they widened at the cut across his torso, a blood soaked rag falling down as he lifted his shirt.

“You’re a real piece of work, Barnes, you know that?” You asked, starting to gather your supplies before sitting next to Bucky, the grin still firmly in place, slightly more smug now that he’d seen you take him in.

“Don’t deny it, doll, you love me patching me up.” Bucky said confidently, knowing that you could have demanded one of the other nurses deal with him if you really didn’t like him.

“There’s better ways to get my attention, no need to go get yourself all cut up on my behalf.” You told him, watching as his eyes widened slightly and a smirk pulled at his lips. “Ready?” 

“For you, doll, always.” He smirked and you groaned again causing him to laugh, though it was quickly silenced as you pushed the needle through his skin, slowly patching up the wound and letting Bucky fill the silence, fighting back a blush as he spoke.

“There’s my most favourite nurse!” Bucky called as he stumbled into the med tent, leaning heavily against another soldier, his skin pale and sweaty.

“What happened?” You ask straight away, gesturing for the soldier to put Bucky on the bed closest to you as you get to watch stripping the uniform of the man and frowning at the amount of blood pouring from two wounds on his stomach.

“He got shot, ma’am.” The soldier answered and your frown deepened, looking up at Bucky who’s eyes were half lidded but he was still grinning at you, apparently no injury was bad enough to wipe that damn grin off his face.

“‘M fine, Y/N.” He tried to assure you, seeing the frown between your eyebrows deepen and you could help but let out a soft huff of laughter, moving to get some needles, tweezers, gauze, pads and everything else you need.

“Told you there’s better ways to get my attention, didn’t mean go and get yourself shot, Buck.” You say softly, sitting next to him and cleaning the blood, checking him over and seeing both wounds were clean through, good no need to go digging for bullets.

“Shit, doll, you’re calling me by name. My dying?” He asked, slurring the words out and your heart ached at the slight tremor in his voice.

“Come on, it’s me we're talking about. You really think I'm about to let you die?” You ask him, forcing a smile onto your face and looking up at him assuringly before focusing on the worst of the two wounds.

“Better not let me die, Y/N/N, gotta take my girl out on a date.” He breathed out, looking at you so softly, groaning when you pressed down on his wound. “Fuck, doll.”

“Your girl, huh?” You shushed him softly, keeping him talking, needing him to stay alert for your own sanity more than anything.

You took a deep breath, knowing you needed to stay calm in order to make sure Bucky got through this, to make sure he didn’t lose any more blood than he had. You needed to push aside your feelings aside and focus on the patient.

Even if that patient was Bucky Barnes.

“Best girl around.” Bucky slurred out, a choked laugh escaping him and you let yourself smile. “Fixes me up all the damn time, even though she knows I’m an idiot.”

“You certainly are an idiot.” You agree easily, watching as he glares at you, a dazed smile still firmly in place. 

You had cleaned the wound well enough that the blood had stopped pouring from it and focused on patching it up, keeping Bucky talking the whole time, even as he winced and flinched, his eyes falling shut.

You were fine so long as he kept talking.

The second gunshot wound was much easier to patch up, you had it cleaned and packed quickly and once they were both dealt with you sat back heavily, looking at Bucky’s face, watching as he forced his eyes open and looked at you drained.

“All done, doll?” He asked, voice thick with tiredness and you smiled softly at him, eyes stinging slightly as you swallowed around the lump in your throat.

“All done, soldier. Get some rest.” You told him, your own voice thick with emotion and you stood up, needing a minute to yourself, eyes watering but a hand on your wrist stopped you from leaving.

“Stay, doll?” Bucky asked softly and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you turned around and sat back down, Bucky forcing his heavy eyes open and frowning at you. “M’alright.”

You nodded, you knew he was, you were the one to patch him up and yet you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath now that you were done. Bucky practically lived in the med tent, you were used to him being hurt, used to fixing up his many injuries. This one was different though, this one was serious.

You’d never really had Bucky in your med bay because he needed saving. There were so many factors that could have changed the outcome, if the gunshots had caught Bucky a bit to the right it could have caused damage you couldn’t have fixed, if it had taken them any longer to get Bucky to you he could have lost too much blood. It was the first time you’d had Bucky in serious danger.

It’s not like you were stupid, you knew who he was, what his job was but when it was just the two of you it was easy to forget there was a war going on outside, easy to forget that seriousness of his job. 

“You’re alright.” You breathed out, another few tears making their way down your cheek and Bucky reached down, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes closed. “Sleep, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, following the command easily.

After that day you let yourself give into Bucky’s flirting, giving it back just as quickly as he gave it, realising it could all be snatched from you all too soon.

It was a few weeks later, you and Bucky had practically been inseparable. All his free time had been spent with you in the med bay and he savoured each moment he got with you, his little piece of heaven during the war.

You frowned as you walked towards the med bay, hearing one of the nurses raise her voice. It wasn’t entirely uncommon, most of the soldiers looked down at a woman doing a job, sometimes it was called for but when you stepped closer your eyes widened when you heard Bucky.

“Sergeant Barnes-” The nurse tried again but Bucky cut her off.

“No! I want Y/N.” Bucky demanded, like the med tent was the sort of place to be making demands. 

You rolled your eyes stepping into the tent, Bucky not noticing you but the nurse's face filled with relief as she saw you before glaring at Bucky.

“You know,” You say, causing Bucky’s head to snap over to you, your eyes immediately going to the trail of blood falling from his temple. “When your head’s bleeding, people usually aren’t picky about what nurse they have.”

“What can I say? I have my favourite nurse, no point ending up in this place if I don’t get to see my girl.” Bucky grinned at you and you rolled your eyes though there was a fondness you couldn’t deny and you nodded at the other nurse, taking over.

“What happened this time?” You asked, holding a damp rag against the wound.

“Cut my head jumping out of the way of a bullet.” Bucky told you and you sighed, pulling the rag away and seeing the blood had already begun to slow. “Hey, when are you finally gonna let me take you out?”

Bucky had been asking you out ever since he got shot and each time you never gave him a real answer because how could you? There was a war happening, even with his free time he couldn’t just leave to go on a date with you.

“Come find me when you’ve won the war.” You finally told him, watching a blinding grin spread across his face, eyes lighting up as he nodded.

“Doll, I’m gonna marry you once the war’s won.” He swore and the way he said it, you had no choice but to believe he would, you weren’t complaining, the rest of your life with Bucky Barnes seemed like a pretty good life.

“You promise?” You grin back at him, the man unable to help himself, pulling you closer to stand between his legs and closing the distance between you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your face up to his, his gaze intense, before his lips claimed yours in a fierce, passionate kiss full of promise of a future. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden intensity, your hands clutching at his shirt. The world around you faded away as you both lost yourselves in each other, the kiss leaving you both breathless.

“I promise. I’m gonna marry you when this is all over.” He promised and rested his forehead against yours. “On my life, we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together.”

You hear the tent open and turn around from where you stood sorting through your supplies, rolling your eyes but not stopping the grin that spreads across your face.

“Here comes trouble.” You say to yourself, loud enough for Bucky to hear and he just grins back at you, sitting himself on the closest bed to you. “What is it this time then?”

“Oh nurse Y/N, you gotta help me.” Bucky groans, clutching his heart. “My heart is hurting so bad, think I’m having withdrawals from seeing my best girl, think you gotta cure for that?”

“You’re an idiot.” You laughed at him, swatting him with a rag before going back to organising your supplies, knowing the men were heading into another battle and you’d need everything ready for when they came back.

“Come on, doll.” He pouted dramatically over at you, jumping from the bed and turning you to face him. “A kiss for good luck?”

You rolled your eyes again, something you did a lot in the presence of James Barnes but couldn’t help but smile up at him. Bucky smiled down at you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek in his hand, delicately running his thumb across your cheek bone before he guided you up to him, meeting you halfway and then his lips found yours, gently at first. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, becoming more passionate as he pulled you impossibly closer, his other hand moving to the small of your back and you couldn’t help but melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

“Come back to me, soldier.” You told him when the two of you finally pulled away, foreheads resting against each other.

“I got promises to keep, doll, course I’m coming back.” He said, watching as you blushed at the reminder of his promises.

Bucky stole another handful of kisses before one of the men came in, telling him he had to leave.

“See you soon, gorgeous.” He grinned, pressing one more breathtaking kiss to your lips before running out of the med tent and you sat on one of the beds, watching the spot where he had stood, smiling like a fool in love but you couldn’t deny that’s what you were.

Too much time passed, not enough information was given. You paced holes in the med tent floor, he should be back by now. Something was wrong, there were whispers but nobody would tell you anything, everything was on a need to know basis and it was driving you mad.

It had been well over a week since Bucky left and the ache in your chest grew as more and more days passed without a single word.

When the med bay tent opened your head shot round, there were dark circles under your eyes, your hair was a mess from the amount of times you’d ran your hands through it. You shook your head when you saw the commanding officer step into your tent.

“Don't.” You said firmly, eyes already filling with tears and the man frowned, a grim look on his face.

“Nurse Y/LN,” He started and you shook your head, “I regret to inform you that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is missing in action and after our best efforts to identify the location of him and the 107th, we believe he has died in the line of duty. I know this must be difficult news to hear, but please know that you have the full support of the military and all available resources to assist you during this difficult time." 

You felt your legs give out, hitting the floor and sobs wracked your body, the choking feeling you got seeing Bucky shot coming back in full force, head shaking as you pleaded with any god that would listen to bring him back.

The commanding officer left, leaving you a sobbing mess on the floor. 

“He promised.” You choked out to nobody. “He was meant to marry me.” 

You stayed there for a long while, crying for hours for the loss of what could have been. It would have been amazing, a lifetime with James Barnes and now, now you had to miss him for longer than you had known him.

Maybe in another life he came back to you, maybe in another life the war was won and he came back to you, swept you up in his arms and kept every promise he ever made. Maybe in another life, you had lazy mornings in bed, in another life you did the mundane stuff like taxes and laundry together.

Maybe in another life you had more time.

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[powdermelonkeg]

I know Larian said they're not doing any DLC or major game changes, so this is purely a "what if" thought exercise:

Imagine if they added a Durge-adjacent origin run for Orin.

Bard as starting class. Maybe with a Murderous Cut dagger instead of a rapier

Background: Bloodthirsty, gives you Survival and Performance proficiencies

You start off memory-lapsed, but for different reasons. Durge was going to kill you as an offering to Bhaal after your failed attempt on their life, but Gortash convinced them you were more useful under control, and could murder so many more in Bhaal's name

Whatever you design your guardian to be, that's the appearance Durge takes. The first time you meet your guardian, the narrator tells you that something about the face you see fills you with longing, anger, and envy. You have options almost every time you meet said guardian to attack them

If you try to kill the guardian in the Crèche, it turns into violent stabbing and you burst out laughing, only for the guardian to scold you and reveal that they're alive

You get an imp butler instead of Sceleritas, and he shows up after either the Goblin camp or Grove massacre; if you did neither, you get him on entering either Act 2 or the Mountain Pass. Same shoving towards violence and praise for it, but he chastises you for doing anything artfully instead of efficiently. Including your vocal mannerisms. You can punt him shockingly often to end conversations with him

No urges, but you ARE a Bhaalspawn, so you get a lot of dialogue that lends itself over to the macabre and get fascinated by the sight of blood. You might even have the same violent impulses, but they're framed as active choices rather than accidents: For example, you see Gale's hand reaching out of the portal, but instead of "fantasize about hacking off the hand" leading to accidentally getting a severed hand, "fantasize about hacking off the hand" gives you a vivid internal description, then a choice to follow through with it

Minthara has completely different dialogue about her experience in the illithid colony, because Orin wasn't there to mess with her. In fact, Origin Orin might fill in the missing gaps present in the evil playthrough

The scenes with Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge are remarkably different with the swapping of Orin out. Durge and Gortash work together instead of against each other, and nobody's getting changeling-abducted, so there's whole new plotlines in the city

Bloodthirst and Stillmaker are swapped. Durge has the green dagger, the murder weapon is the red one

You get to the Temple of Bhaal, and the people there voice their loathing for you

Similar Chosen confrontation Origin Durge has, where it's a final duel. The consequence for losing is different, though; you're still shamed by your butler and disowned by Bhaal, erased at the pier, but the epilogue has the Slayer stalking the party

Winning, on the other hand, you get the choice to accept your role as Chosen, then if you reject it, the entire temple that abstained from your duel descends on you at once, along with the Tribunal echoes (minus Sarevok). At the end, you have a big scene where you break down, bloodsoaked, and fall to your knees to sob, before Withers sets a hand on your shoulder

You get a really violent confrontation between you and Sarevok if you do some exploring, find your room, and confront your mother about your heritage and why she tried to kill you. Like, Astarion-stabbing-Cazador violent. It's cathartic and tragic

[oopsarboreal]

Friends in high places :P

Wanted to share a lil writing/lore today :3 I think I’ve explained how Taurice got into the Foundation before but it was brief

This also works as an introduction for Dr. Angie Samosin because it’s in her voice

Below cut ^^

The researcher perched on the edge of the chair like some poached bird unused to the edges of suburbia, lips pursed as she heard the question. “Taurice…” she echoed, gaze blank as she squinted. “Oh, Lemming. Yes, I remember. Of course. An odd case, and a scientist always remembers the exceptions.

“To begin, I must preface that as I was settling into my career here, I noticed that many of the newer anomalies originated in mountainous regions. And, working off the theory that by stationing in these hard-to-reach heights, anomalies could be observed and caught before they messed with civilians. So was born my first research project, ‘Mountains are Wild,’ armed with agents and MTF, you know, the works,” she waved a hand in the air. “It wasn’t a month into our efforts before the man of the hour showed up. Several agents were stationed around what turned out to be a wheelbarrow capable of human speech by squeaking and squealing its wheels. That… isn’t important. What is important is that Lemming, oblivious to the Foundation personnel in the underbrush, stumbled upon, approached, and spoke to the anomaly. Taking notes and everything. I think I received three communications at once asking what I wanted them to do. I was miffed. Already a civilian had been allowed to wander right in under their noses? They eventually executed the usual protocol, detaining Lemming and leading him away. Under questioning he was incredibly uncooperative and entirely too questioning of our front story of being an environmental conservation agency. An exact quote sticks out in my mind… he looked me in the eye and said ‘You ain’t no hippie group, there’s been zero evidence of you. No flyers, no annoying signature-seekers, and certainly no actual impact. I know this mountain like I know your mother. Intimately.’”

Samosin let that hang in the air a moment. “That’s when I decided to simply amnesticize him. His memory was wiped and he was plopped back on the bottom of the trail with false memories of an uneventful excursion.”

She shifted, perhaps uneasily, before she continued. “That… would have the end of it if he was a normal man. But I don’t advocate personally for the hiring of normal men. No, Lemming stumbled upon us not three days later. This time the beast was some sort of.. winged lizard. He wandered right up to it like a naive kitten to a bird of prey. Again, spoke to it, took notes. These notes we’d been confiscating proved useful information. Lemming contributed to classifications articles before he even knew what the Foundation was.

“Anyway. The same song and dance occurred. Detainment, questioning, amnestics. This time we put a tracker in him to avoid the same thing happening. How odd that the same civilian kept wandering into the wilderness and tripping over us. I was prepared to leave that at a cafeteria story but three days later, guess who showed up on our radar. Walking directly toward the shadow giant that was so unfortunately requiring all hands on deck at the time. Lemming had to be tackled to the ground before he could get vaporized into nothing.”

She leaned forward, wringing her hands as she gathered her words. “And… well. Considering the amnestics and that he’d been made a blank slate twice and still repeated the behavior, it was clear his compunction to run into the unknown was something innate. That, that right there, is very useful raw material. My colleague would tell you that we don’t want people with the survival instincts and senses of self you find in-… most people. A good employee is a devotee. You cannot simply-“ she blinked, falling silent, her jaw working the air. “…I don’t mean to rabbit-trail. The point is I saw potential to put Lemming’s lack of-… ah, self-consideration to good use. Had to argue a bit with my companions at the time, but it was my project and I got the paperwork in front of him soon enough. But, well, there’s a reason we don’t employ zombies. The human will is too tied up with other essential bits of the mind to remove. I gave him to decision to sign his name or take an amnestic to forget everything I just told him.”

“Of course, our project had come to a conclusion, and we all grew a tad impatient waiting for his decision as he paced and paced and pestered us with questions. But eventually, he declined and took the pill. It was a slow-acting drug. I told him it was a gesture of trust to get on his good side but in reality we were simply out of the injections. Because of him.”

“…I sent an agent to tail him to make sure he didn’t call anyone or write anything down before it hit his system, and the rest of us loaded up and left. Now… I don’t know exactly what happened next but the man changed his mind. Almost hysterically so. He ran back, stole the four-wheeler of the agent who was trailing him, and nearly hit our squad car with it, waving his arms and shouting that he changed his mind and wanted to come along. My companions finally believed me, then, that I’d made the right decision. Because only a fool would have done that.”

[dykesynthezoid]

@in-sufficientdata sure!!

So I’m far, far from an expert, esp as someone still learning, but among many things I have to assume the issue of Shabbat would be the biggest question. Bc the innies don’t ever get a day of rest literally ever. Their outies can still honor Shabbat, but they also don’t have the experience of working. So it’s inherently already a very weird and unbalanced idea in a halachic sense.

I think the question then becomes: Are the innies Jewish? Are they beholden to keep mitzvot if they have no concept of the fact that they’re Jewish?

The resulting argument would likely be that if the severed person is a Jewish adult who had a b’nei mitzvah (and a bris if they have that anatomy), then their body and soul are Jewish, regardless of their consciousness being split in two. So the innies are Jewish, they just can’t remember it.

The fact that they can’t remember would probably be used as reasoning that the innies themselves cannot be held accountable for conforming to halacha, though; they literally don’t know any better. They don’t know they’re supposed to be keeping Shabbat, or how serious it is that they aren’t.

Instead the responsibility for that transgression would fall to whoever is preventing them from keeping the mitzvot, which is the company they work for and the people who did the severing.

Of course, you could argue that if the innie and outie are the same person and the same body, then as long as the outie honors Shabbat, it’s fine. But I think the fact that the innie cannot experience it for themselves is still an issue, especially that they cannot participate in the process in a ritual and community sense. The innie and the outie may exist in the same Jewish body and with the same Jewish soul, but because they’re also divided inside the mind, specifically, the innie cannot experience the rest that is mandated to all Jews, and that’s a problem.

And just the fact that the innie doesn’t know they’re Jewish could also be considered an act of harm. Like I said, the company they work for and the people who did the severing are the ones responsible that they can’t keep mitzvot, but I think they’re also responsible for the fact that the innie cannot experience being Jewish whatsoever. To be entirely cut off from one’s heritage, history, and entire culture without even knowing it is so painful to imagine, especially with the history of forced conversion and assimilation of Jewish people.

The fact that the severance procedure is serious, invasive, and completely voluntary is also an issue. Jewish law is pretty clear about its approach to medical intervention, and an intervention being lifesaving or prolonging life is the most important element. The severance procedure is neither, and yet it also risks serious harm, even if the rates of complication are low; I mean, it’s brain surgery. And the public knows about this potential harm in-universe to some degree, especially after Petey’s death is publicized. I cannot see a reality where the severance procedure itself; as in the act of surgery; is considered halachically sound.

And I think there’s an argument to be made that the act of splitting the mind in two is inherently wrong even in a spiritual sense. Hashem is defined by his oneness and indivisibility, and this oneness lives, actively and literally, in all people, because they’re made in his image. So splitting someone’s mind in half, especially in an act that is supposedly 100% permanent, could be seen as trying to split the divine itself. Which is deeply sacrilegious and a profound violation, both spiritually and to the subject themself.

An area of some disagreement might end up being exactly how responsible the outies are for all of this. Are they held to the same degree of blame as the company and the people who physically severed them? I do think the outie’s knowledge of halacha and the power imbalance between them and the company have to be taken into account. I think they’d always be at least partly responsible for what they’d done to themselves and their innie, but the company as a corporate entity has a double responsibility to care for its employees and not to mislead laymen from their place of authority.

And I’m sure there’s even more honestly! But that’s just everything I could think of off the top of my head.

I just know the in-universe halachic arguments over the severance procedure would go crazyyy. There’s a council of rabbis out there somewhere who will absolutely not let lumon live and this I know for certain

[1singulargrape]

Some SukuIta fic recs on AO3

Here are some of my favorites skit fanfics! I've put tags I found relevant but not all of them. Most of the summaries are from the stories themselves although I improvised some. I hope you can find something you'll enjoy <3

Is this Stockholm-Syndrome? by BaeBeyza

Completed

Status : 14k, 6 Chapters, Complete (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Yakuza; Accidental Kidnapping; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Non-Consensual Drug Use; Rape/Non-con Elements;

Summary : In which Yakuza Boss Sukuna gets accidentally kidnapped by some hapless idiot

Comment : It’s the “kidnapped by the yakuza boss” trope but reversed! Fun but not really lighthearted /!\

Your path into bloodlust by BaeBeyza

Status : 26k, 10 Chapters,Complete, (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Fantasy; God Sukuna; Weretiger Yuuji; Blood and Violence; Hurt/Comfort; Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary : Sukuna, the God of the Hunt, laid his eyes on the golden-eyed hunter

Comment : They both change the other, in a way. Yuuji really Goes Through It in this one but so does Sukuna >:)

Seven Days to Fall in Love by macabrecabra

Status : 35k, 7 chapters, Complete, (E)

Tags : Sci-Fi AU; Survival horror kind of

Summary : It was supposed to be a routine mission, but instead, Yuuji finds himself crash landed on an alien world with seven days to get to the rendezvous point in order to escape the planet. A task only made more difficult by the cursed entity he is expected to keep under control as his vessel.

Comment : I’m not that much into sci-fi but it was still a lot of fun. This story features Yuuji and Sukuna being nearly the same and complete opposites at the same time, and being forced to cooperate in spite of it which is amazing. Also, Sukuna acting like a feral animal/teenager was great!

between our teeth by goodnightfern

Status : 10k, 3 Chapters, Complete, (NR)

Tags : A/B/O; Forced Bonding; Forced Pregnancy; Gross Pregnancy shit; Cannibalism; Incest (kinda?)

Summary : Some rational part of Yuuji’s mind lies dormant beneath this drugged heat. He knows this scene: the monster of an omega, snarling even in forced stasis, struggling to resist the enormous burden of cursed energy sitting heavy as the ocean in this room. As a child he’d run his tiny fingers over the corded strength of his four arms, snuck a peek at the drooling wound in his stomach. He knows the heavy breath barely animating this mountain like his own heartbeat.

Comment : I adore the worldbuilding here. This one features Yuuji changing Sukuna as much as Sukuna changes him and it’s so delicious. Originally a one-shot then expanded upon and it’s one of my favorite take on a/b/o so far.

Love for my child series by BaeBeyza

Status: 3 parts, >100 000k, Complete, (M)

Tags : A/B/O; Rape/Non-Con; Kidnapping; Forced Pregnancy; Lima Syndrome; Eventual Escape; Hurt/Comfort; Self-harm;

Summary : 

Part 1 : Yuuji, a young omega, is kidnapped, raped, and forced to have a child for the “evil man”. Even in this mockery of a domestic life he doesn’t give up on escaping.

Part 2 : Five years after escaping the evil man's grasp, Yuuji finds himself navigating life with his dear son. Fate has other ideas, however...

Comment : The characterizations in this story drives me insane, and part 2 is just banger lines after banger lines (I’m very biased towards this story I rotated it in my mind for months <3). The main storyline is complete while part 3 includes extra-stories and is still ongoing!

Ongoing

I was sent to spy on the demon lord but it turns out he's hot and I'm now his captive?! by rhapshie

Status : 42k, 8 Chapters (1 left), Ongoing, (M)

Tags : Demon Lord Sukuna; Adventurer Yuuji; High Fantasy

Summary : Itadori Yuuji. Gold-rank adventurer.

He picked up a quest to survey the area around the demon lord's castle, but he was caught and held captive. The only way he can escape is by killing the infuriatingly hot Lord Ryomen. And thus, he hatches scheme after scheme to do just that.

Little does he know that in demon culture, assassination attempts mean courting... So, Yuuji unknowingly begins to court the demon lord.

...Oops?

Comment : OH THIS ONE IS SO MUCH FUN! I’m almost tempted to put the crack treated seriously tag because of how silly it is. I really like how the relationship between the main pair develops, and the interactions between Yuuji and the rest of the cast are fun as well!

Aconitum by AttackRabbit

Status : 30k, 10 Chapters, Ongoing, (E)

Tags : A/B/O; Set In Ancient Japan; Implied/Referenced Abortion; Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault; Former Soldier Yuuji; Mentions of War

Summary : Apothecary ex-solder Yuuji while out foraging for vegetables finds a severely wounded alpha. After deciding to save him, Yuuji's life of chosen solitude is threatened.

Comment : This story has managed to surprise me in several ways and every chapter is a treat! I love the care put into showing Yuuji’s competences as an apothecary but there’s so much more to talk about in this story. The author went out of their way to create a fictional language for it as well and it makes it so much more immersive, I hope you can at least check it out!

The Greatest Curse of All by CB_Magique

Status : 106k, 32 chapters, Ongoing, (E)

Tags : A/B/O; Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Rape/Non-Con; Enemies to Lovers; Slow Burn; Lots Of Hurts; Physical Abuse; Miscarriage; More pairings not mentioned in the tags

Summary : [...] Unfortunately, during a Special Grade curse attack, he ends up tricking the King of Curses into a binding vow, completely by accident. Forced into servitude, the safety of all humanity now depends on Yuji being able to sate Sukuna’s desires.

Sukuna does not like being tricked and will not take that disrespect lying down. He is determined to break Yuji. However, Yuji may end up breaking him down first.

Comment : so fucking peak… The tags aren’t lying that burn is SLOW. We’re barely crawling here damn but at least we’re past the lowest point of their relationship! yippee! I love the attention put into describing Yuuji’s day to day life in Sukuna’s mansion (he’s basically forced to live like people from Suku’s time). The interactions between the 2 are often very intense and I love them. Also! There are a lot of creative uses of cursed energy/techniques!

One shots

AITA for being mad at my family for the cruel methods they used to get me to live with them? by BaeBeyza

Status : 1.8k, One-Shot, (M)

Tags : Crack Treated Seriously; Written like a reddit post

Summary : Hello!I was told this is the place to come for advice and I really need it for my current conflicted situation! The title isn’t as bad as it sounds, I just recently found out a bit about my husband and step-kids which led to a lot of anger on my end and I just want an unbiased opinion.

Comment : This one is short and fun, and people are roleplaying in the comments! Poor Yuuji :’)

What color is my blood...Red, black or white? by izugirl

Status : 10k, One-Shot, (E)

Tags : Top Yuuji; Bottom Sukuna; I guess it’s kind of Pw/oP but there’s a lot going on still

Summary : “If I make you feel pleasure,” Yuuji says with the most serious face possible. "You'll leave him alive and it'll just be you and me. Does this sound fun enough for you?"

Or in the midst of battle in the cursed land of Shinjuku, Yuuji asks the King of Curses an unusual question and finds out that the myths about him left out much more than his cursed technique.

Comment : I’m quite literally blowing kisses towards the open tab for this fic. It’s so fucking good. Hello. It goes so hard. One of my favorites of all times for sure. Features : Yuuji and Sukuna being obsessed with each other in an unhealthy way (and being in denial about it), these 2 being the other’s downfall and just… I can’t put it into words but the vibe is, when I try to give a mental image to this story the first this that comes to me is juicy raw meat. Red, bloody and appetizing.

like a lollipop by satorusyuji

Status : 1.3k, One-Shot, (T)

Tags : Crack; Unreliable Narrator; Out of Character

Summary : Yuuji’s terror slowly morphs into confusion while he’s pinned under Sukuna.

Comment : This one is an easy way to put me in a good mood. It’s silly. Doesn’t take much more than that to make me like something XD

Telluric by SmolAfro

Status : 7k, One-Shot, (E)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Trojan War Setting; Alternate Universe - Mythology; Odysseus!Yuuji; Poseidon!Sukuna; Porn With Plot

Summary : Yuuji keeps forgetting to include Sukuna in his prayers. Sukuna in turn makes his life miserable, until Yuuji makes amends.

Comment : OOOOOH. OH THIS ONE. I don’t know what the fuck the author put into that one but just thinking about it puts me back in the state I was after reading in for the first time (read: unwell). I don’t even have the words it’s just- it’s peak. It's just- it's so good I love it so much please read it

the one who will teach you about love is... by The_Rose_That_Blooms

Status : 5.8k, One-Shot, (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Heian Period; Courting Rituals; Crack; Minor Violence; Mainly yorozu's POV

Summary : Countless yappings from her attendant, lessons she forced her teachers to teach and herself to be taught, having to get used to the sensation of fabric (sometimes the itchiness was unbearable) wrapping around her skin because it was considered ‘decent’, and most of all, making sure she’d get picked to present herself, among 20 other ladies and men, to Ryoumen Sukuna-sama and become his bride.

Comment : Yorozu’s POV is really funny (and very unhinged). I greatly enjoyed her torment :3