#look i'm sure there could've been one maybe they weren't listed

[hislittleraincloud]

Here to ruin a wenclair/jemma shippers day: there wasn’t an intimacy coordinator listed on the wssf imdb page so do with that what you will! 🤭

Chemistry so good you don’t need an intimacy coordinator fr

So you're sayin' they had to wing this

and when he had those long Slenderman fingers cupping her tit,

when she had her little fingers in his greasy lookin' hair,

and when she had her tongue down his throat,

it was all directed au naturel by them and the director, like nature made the process?

...I bet there were no modesty garments involved at all, either 🤭 Especially when the cameras were off

[itz-mfkn-de]

\\ALWAYS YOU//. M.R

warnings— OOC MATTHEO, Im a sucker for toxic boys but I made him extra sweet in his one idk why, uhhh not many tbh, cussing, kissing, smoking, that’s all I think.

summary— Mattheo was your best friend, always had been, but was the title of ‘friend’ enough?

-my first work for Mattheo! I will eventually get a master list going once I get more comfertable posting on here. This is a repost of one of my works on wattpad, just with some tweaks bc that work was olldddd-

You sat against mattheos 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 out of his dorm window.

"You know, some times, I'm worried for you. You just stare at things, it's weird." He snickered  as he took a drag from his cigarette.

You looked at him and scoffed, "Sometimes I'm worried about your lungs, you're bound to get some type of problem with all that's smoking you do." You half-joked, glancing at him.

He rolled his eyes, tilting his head up and blew the smoke out of his mouth.

"Seriously Mattheo, that stuff is absolute horse-shit for your body." You stated, accompanying your words with a sharp glare.

"I don't do it that often, just when I'm stressed." He muttered, taking his feet off of his desk and turning his body to face you.

"What happened to the whole 'I don't give a fuck about anything or anybody but myself' thing?" You said, mocking him to the best of your abilities.

"First of all I don't fucking sound like that," he laughed and squinted at you "second, just stressed about life, nothing in particular." 

You softly chuckled at his reaction. His eyes broke from yours, looking at some papers on his desk. Your eyes, however, never left his frame. You could stare at him for eternity, everything about his face seemed so perfect, almost as if it were meant to be admired.

You soon realized your staring and quickly averted your gaze towards the window again.

"You gonna go to the Yule ball this year?" You broke the silence, you knew Mattheo hated those things, he hated having to be around a shit ton of people and act like he enjoyed their company.

"Probably not." His demeanor changed, his tone became short, almost snappy.

"Oh, I'm probably just gonna go with Becca." You mumbled, knowing that if no guy was to ask you, Becca had your back.

"Hm." He nearly laughed at your remark.

"What? What's so funny?" You asked, looking back at him, his back still facing you.

"Just surprised you aren't going with a random slytherin guy or something." He answered, but the way he had said it has a strange undertone that you weren't sure how to feel about.

"Well I mean I don't know, I haven't been asked yet." You stated truthfully.

"Ah, I see." He murmured, soon after taking another drag of his cigarette.

You felt tension building in the room, suffocating tension. You weighed your options out, but you decided it would be better to give Mattheo some space, for what you were unsure of.

"Well, Becca and Emma told me they wanted to go dress shopping earlier so I think I'm gonna head over there so we can solidify our plans." You announced while picking up your books and putting them in your bag. 

"Bye Mattheo." You said while walking out of his dorm, expecting a response.

You shut the door when you got nothing, you mind raced with the possibilities on what could've caused mattheos strange behavior.

Maybe he'd just had an off day? No that couldnt have been it, he was fine moments before his attitude took a turn. 

Perhaps he was just having mood swings, you wouldn't be surprised with all the trash he puts in his body.

You stuck with that story and walked back to your dorm, which was on the other side of the slytherin tower. 

You reached it, setting your things down, then quickly turned around and nearly raced to your friends dorm.

The second you reached it, You waisted no time to jump on her bed, causing her to jump. 

"Yes, of course you can come into my room unannounced and lay on my bed." Becca said sarcastically. She had been digging through her closet in an attempt to find a dress. 

"Sorry, I just need to vent." You said while propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Go ahead." She sighed and laid her body weight 

"Okay so, there's this guy. He's like my best friend, but.."

She raised her eyes brows, signaling you to continue.

"But I want us to be more, or atleast I see him as more than a friend. I just feel like no matter how hard I try I can't get him to open up, he just.. won't."  You groaned.

"And everytime I get this sliver of hope that I've made progress, he just completely shuts down, leaving me in the dark confused and a little bit heartbroken!" You borderline screamed, your face shoved into her mattress.

"Okay, uh, let's calm down. If he's not showing any signs of being interested maybe you should just, move on- well attempt to at least." Becca stated ,rubbing your back.

You shut your eyes, truly taking in your friends words.  “hey Yknow what will make you feel better?” She nearly jumped with excitement. “Going to look for a dress in town.”

You knew she only had good intentions but the words kept echoing through your head. The thought of keeping Mattheo as a friend hurt, but it seemed to be all you could do at this point without ruining your friendship.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe you needed to accept Mattheo 

was just a friend.

-

All you could think about was the Yule ball. Over the next few weeks the days flew by, the anticipation growing larger with each one passing.

Of course you had been asked by some sweet guy from the Ravenclaw house, and, taking Becca's advice, you said yes.

There was nothing wrong with him, he just..he wasn't him.

You had decided to get ready alone, slipping into a beautiful green dress you and Becca had picked out. You finished your hair and makeup, looking into your vanity mirror.

You felt beautiful.

You smiled softly at how well you had dolled yourself up.

Glancing up at the clock, you rushed out of your dorm room, realizing it was the time you and your date had agreed to meet at the entrance by. 

You walked gracefully through the halls, a large smile adorning your face. Your heels tapped softly against the ground. You neared the entrance, your breath becoming shallow from the nerves. 

Then you saw Becca, she was wearing a beautiful Maroon dress. She looked absolutely breath taking.

"Hey!— oh my gosh." Becca looked at you, her jaw dropping. 

"You look stunning! Like some type of goddess...." She said barely above a whisper.

"Becca! Stop, you can't be talking, I forgot how to breathe the moment I saw you." You hugged her.

You were about to continue praising her and her beauty, but before you could comment you heard someone call your name.

"Y/n..wow.." he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

You turned around to see your date, who was wearing a very clean red and black suit. 

"Oh my gosh hi! Sorry for being a tad late, I lost track of time while getting ready!" You made your way next to your date, not before Becca gave you a sly smile and a push, leaving to go with her specimen she had chose for the night 

"It's okay.., you look amazing." He had said, taking your arm into his. He began to lead you into the ballroom.

"Thank you, I must say, you cleaned up nice." You smiled sweetly at him.

You and him entered the large room full of people, everything was elegant and royal, not a single speck of dust on anything.

You looked around the large room as your date led you down the stairs, you couldn't lie, you felt like a princess. The beautiful architecture of the room, complimented by your stunning dress, felt like something straight out of a fairy tale.

Once you had made it to the bottom of the staircase, you excused yourself away from your date in an attempt to go find Becca again. 

You stumbled past groups of people, many of them were couples having a romantic moment. 

You tried your best not to run into anybody, you dodged dancing bodies and nearly jogged across the dance floor.

You almost missed him.

You almost walked right by him.

You almost could've saved yourself the heartbreak.

But no you saw it—him with some random Hufflepuff girl. 

The way he whispered in her ear, the way she giggled a little too sweetly, everything. 

It all made you wanna cry—or throw up, which one that would be you weren't quite sure about yet. 

"Y/n?" Theodore came beside you and patted your back.

"Theo-Theodore, I thought Mattheo wasn't coming to the dance?" You struggled to get your words out as your eyes darted between the scene before you and Theodore. 

"Oh—uh yeah, he wasn't gonna originally, but some girl asked him and I guess he took a liking to her because usually he just brushes everyone off." Theo answered.

"Oh, I see, I just came to say hello. I'll be on my way now." Before Theodore could argue with your strange behavior you turned your back and walked as quickly as you could back to were your date was. 

You abandoned the idea of going to find Becca, you couldn't accidentally run into Mattheo and his.. friend again.

Instead you decided that distracting yourself with your date would be the best thing for your heart at the moment.

"Hey, sorry , I just saw a friend and got distracted." You said, out of breath.

"Oh. Don't even sweat it, I'm just glad you didn't run away and not come back." He joked, dragging you towards the dance floor. You couldn't help but laugh at his bubbly personality. It was a nice change of speed.

"I hope you like to dance." His hands fell onto your hips, yours made their way to his shoulders.

"I actually hate it." You smiled at him. 

"How unfortunate." Your smile grew when he matched your energy. You nearly forgot what you had seen a couple moments ago.

But alas, you didn't.

You could feel your chest tightening up, the tears bordering you waterline. Just thinking about him touching that girl in any way made you want to breakdown.

"Ex.—excuse me." You tried to excuse yourself as politely as you could. 

You didn't want your date too see you like this, vulnerable, heartbroken.

You urgently walked towards any door in your line of sight. When you finally found one, you ran through it. 

You just couldn't escape him, no matter how hard you tried. He was at every single corner you turned.

You nearly groaned when you saw him propped up over the balcony, smoking of course. 

He hasn't seemed to notice you, still looking out at the stars. 

You couldn't do it anymore, you couldn't spend one more fucking second acting like you weren't in love with him. 

The sad part was you'd rather be his friend than him hate you and be nothing at all. As long as he thought about you, you'd be okay. 

That's what you had been telling yourself, but you couldn't hold onto that lie anymore. 

"Mattheo." You croaked out behind him.

His head shot to the side, looking you dead in the eyes. 

"Angel… what're you doing out here."  He looked back out to the stars, unable to make eye contact. 

"I can't do it anymore."  You said shakily.

He turned his full body around this time, his eyes a dark brown. He blew the smoke out of his mouth, the wind pushing it in the opposite direction.

"I can't keep pretending I don't feel this way.., do you know how hard it was to watch you talk to that girl?" You nearly cried out.

"All the girls you fuck with and then bring them to shit like this, I cant keep lying to myself —wishing that it was me instead of her."

You were on the brink of gasping for air, your head pounded. You couldn't believe you had suppressed these emotions for so long. Every single time you went to Mattheo's dorm, you could barely restrain yourself from kissing him. 

Before you could continue on with your speech 

Mattheo had forced you against the wall. 

His lips met yours in a harsh collision. In an almost immediate reaction, your body responded to his actions, kissing him back with just as much need and hurry.

"You don't get to fucking do that."  He pulled back from your lips, still making sure to keep his face mere inches from yours.

"Every single day, I'd sit there and watch you talk to this new guy, I couldn't do shit about it— I wouldn't let myself do shit about it."

“I knew you deserved so much better than some lousy asshole like me, angel.” His hand held a firm grip on your hips, his other still had its place on the stone wall. 

"It took everything in me not to punch that fucker in the face when I saw him look at you, but I knew you wouldn't want that." You melted beneath his gaze.

His kisses trailed down your jawline.

"During second year, when I went to the dance, I saw you there with Draco, I nearly killed him right after. I couldn't bear to see you with anyone other than myself.. so I wouldn't go, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it so I never went to another ball again." He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Until this year." He mumbled softly in between the kisses he was leaving on your neck.

He brought his face back up to yours, his eyes stormy and clouded with something darker than just simple need.

"What'd he say to you? What did he call you?" Mattheo asked with a dark shimmer in his eyes, one you were hoping was just from the moon.

You swallowed harshly, you hadn't realized how dry your mouth truly was. 

"He just said I looked nice—" 

"Nice? You look fucking ravishing. I've never met a girl as beautiful as you, never once in my life seen a girl who could compare anywhere near you...That's why I call you angel you know...,because even if an angel walked by, my eyes would still be glued on you."

His gentle voice tickled your ears, and your cheeks warmed up beneath him.

"You are my angel."

He kissed you again, only this time it was more gentle. His lips held no rush, they were soft and comforting. 

You were the one to pull back this time, smiling sweetly up at him. He pulled you from against the wall, leaving the two of you in the center of the balcony, under the sparkling stars.

"I can't believe we've been friends all these years, and neither of us made a move."

He spun you around under the moon light, the beautiful sky knocking the breath out of you.

"Hey matty..?”You whispered once he had began to hold you in his arms gently.

"Yes angel?" He matched your tone, the sweet nickname you gave him made his chest tighten up.

"I love you." You closed your eyes, shutting them slowly.

"I love you... I always thought I'd never be the type to say that so freely, guess I just needed to meet the right person." He swayed the two of you lightly, finding a rhythm in the midnight winds. 

"Of course it's you... 

It's always been you."

[thehoneybeestings]

Enemies to Lovers with Dancer!Vi x Dancer!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Content/Warnings: enemies to lovers, modern!au, dancer!vi au, dancer!reader, suggestive, fem reader (gn pronouns used, though), probably some dance discrepancies because i'm not a dancer myself

A/N: I had so much fun writing this; Vi and reader are so sassy like can y'all just fuck it out already... anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

୨ৎ The day your mom took you to your local dance company's performance of The Nutcracker was the day your love for dance began

୨ৎ At 7, you could hardly tell the difference between The Royal Ballet and Piltover Springs Dance School; and to say you were in awe was the understatement of the century

୨ৎ The glittering tutus, the leaps and twirls; you were sure you'd just discovered what you wanted to be when you grew up: A Ballerina

୨ৎ And here you were now; not quite a Royal Ballerina, but, you'd just gotten cast as The Sugar Plum Fairy in the very same annual performance of The Nutcracker you'd seen 11 years ago

୨ৎ You were beaming, trying your best to contain your excitement as the director of the school read out the rest of the cast list, until...

୨ৎ "For the first time in Piltover Springs Dance School history, our board was left completely at a loss when attempting to choose between our two top contenders for Star Senior. For this reason, we unanimously agreed that this year's Senior Showcase will feature both students. We’ve decided on a contemporary duet, and for this piece, we've chosen Y/n Y/l/n, and Violet Lanes. Round of applause for this year's Star Seniors!"

୨ৎ Your smile drops as quickly as it had appeared on your face just minutes ago

୨ৎ What. The. Hell.

୨ৎ You'd been pushing yourself beyond measure to earn this distinction, and if you were being honest, you'd rather not have earned it all than be the first student in the school's history forced to share it; and nevertheless, with Violet Lanes

୨ৎ As much you loved dance, you hated Violet; who was now more commonly referred to as Vi, courtesy of the nickname her first dance teacher gave to her

୨ৎShe’d been taking Hip-Hop lessons at the school for as long as you'd been taking Ballet lessons, and by the time you both started taking the same contemporary dance class in the 6th grade, your instructors had already started placing bets on which one of you it would be to earn the Star Senior distinction

୨ৎ You wonder if maybe you and Vi could've become friends if it weren't for how fiercely competitive you both were

୨ৎ But, alas: the two of you were nothing if not fiercely competitive, and oh how ironic it was that you'd now share the distinction that had driven you two so far apart

୨ৎ Clearly, Ekko was loving the irony

୨ৎ "Alright, alright, Star Senior! I can't wait for this one..." he'd say, rubbing his hands together with a shit-eating grin on his face

୨ৎ "I'm so pissed," you'd laugh incredulously, shoving pointe shoes into your bag, "I’d even let Caitlyn have my goddamn spot instead!”

୨ৎ "Ouch,"

୨ৎ You'd recognize the voice behind you anywhere

୨ৎ "If we're gonna be spending this much time together, you might wanna learn to love me, sugar plum.”

୨ৎ You turn to see Vi holding out a piece of paper- the schedule for the upcoming dance season- and your eyes scan for the following dates and times:

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Thurs, Fri- Company Rehearsal: The Nutcracker; 5:30-7:00 PM

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Wed, Thurs, Fri- Senior Showcase Rehearsal; 7:15-8:00 PM

୨ৎ You double, triple, quadruple check that you’re seeing this right

୨ৎ "Every day...?" you whisper, mostly to yourself

୨ৎ "Every day. Short sessions, so we can't really afford not to meet every day."

୨ৎ You look up to find that she's sucking her teeth, trying her best not to crack a satisfied smile at the irritation on your face, and anger pierces through you like a lightning bolt

୨ৎ “You're such a dick,” you seethe, eyes narrowed

୨ৎ She just rolls her own in response, unphased as usual; you'd never been able to get a rise out of her the way she could get one out of you, and that just pissed you off even more

୨ৎ “Look,” she sighs, “I don't want to do this stupid ass duet any more than you do, and I sure as hell didn't bust my ass for this distinction so that I could share it, so let's just get the show over with, and then we never have to see each other again. Cool?”

୨ৎ And you admit- for the first time ever, and certainly not out loud- that she's right; you just needed to get through the next eight months, and then you'd never have to see Violet Lanes again…

୨ৎ But why didn't that feel as good to think about as you thought it would? 

୨ৎ When 7:15 PM rolls around the next evening, you're already spent from your first day of rehearsals for The Nutcracker

୨ৎ You're hot, sweaty, and tired; and when you walk in a minute late to see Vi checking the imaginary watch on her hand, you know the next few months are going to test your patience like nothing has before

୨ৎ “Don’t piss me off,” you spit, shaking your head as you hold a hand out to her

୨ৎ Vi quirks an eyebrow and chuckles through her nose. "Hello to you too, sugar plum."

୨ৎ You scoff at the stupid nickname before you both turn to the instructor, whose eyebrows are raised as he wonders what the hell he's just gotten himself into

୨ৎ The two of you barely speak to each other during your rehearsals; you're just there to learn the moves, and frankly, try not to end each session at each other’s throats

୨ৎ The latter is a bit of a challenge for the two of you, surprising no one, but what does surprise you is the undeniable chemistry you and Vi have as dance partners

୨ৎ You two are quick to learn every move, and even quicker to learn each other; you sync effortlessly… 

୨ৎ Until, the lift

୨ৎ You could not-for the life of you- get the damn lift down

୨ৎ In fact, it takes an entire week of rehearsals to get halfway there, and even then, it's nowhere near performance-ready

୨ৎ "We might have to scratch the lift and come up with something else," your instructor muses, scratching his chin and looking down at his notebook for other ideas

୨ৎ And Vi is quick to notice the way your face falls in response to his words

୨ৎ To know you was to know someone who demanded perfection from themselves, and it was evident that the idea of not being able to handle something as simple as a lift was going to eat at you

୨ৎ And so, she asks you to stay late that day… a proposal you immediately reject, because,

୨ৎ “I don’t need extra practice, and I certainly don’t need to spend more time with you.”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she’d deadpan, hands on her hips, “Cut the shit. This is why we can’t get the lift down. You freeze up as soon as you get halfway in the air, and when you hesitate, I hesitate, and then I start to drop you, and all of this because you hate me so much that you can’t even relax into a lift you learned to do when you were 15.”

୨ৎ You huff out a laugh, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms

୨ৎ “Seriously?” You challenge, “Well… maybe you’re just not strong enough to-”

୨ৎ She quirks an eyebrow and gives you a knowing smirk

୨ৎ Yeah… you kinda figured that one wouldn’t work

୨ৎ “Okay… well, I actually learned to do that lift when I was 13, so it’s been a while since-”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she interrupts, her voice much more stern than the first time your name left her lips 

୨ৎ “What?!” you seethe, now kicking yourself for getting so damn flustered

୨ৎ Vi takes a step forward, and for the first time in your 7-year-long rivalry, her expression softens as she speaks to you

୨ৎ And something blossoms in your belly; something much too close to butterflies for your liking…

୨ৎ “What we’re doing… it’s not working anymore.”

୨ৎ You look up at her through your eyelashes, a pout on your face

୨ৎ You know she’s right

୨ৎ “The break-up speech usually happens after we date, for the record,” you mumble

୨ৎ And she can’t help but laugh, and you can’t help but crack a smile, and have her eyes always crinkled up like that when she laughs?

୨ৎ “C’mon, you know what I mean. You don’t have to like me… but you’ve at least gotta trust me. Just enough for me to hold you in the air for like, three seconds,” she chuckles, “can you do that?”

୨ৎ You stare at her; pensive, hesitant

୨ৎ “I can try.”

୨ৎ “Okay,” she breathes out with a smile, “Then let’s try.”

୨ৎ She presses play on her phone, the same 10-second interval that you’ve heard countless times now begins playing, and you go for the lift; better this time, but she can feel that you’re still unsure 

୨ৎ “Damn it,” you spit as she places you back onto your feet

୨ৎ But this time, her hands don’t leave your hips

୨ৎ “Hey,” she calls out with a squeeze to your sides, “Relax. It’s okay, you’re doing good. I’ve got you, I promise.” 

୨ৎ She’s never talked to you like this before

୨ৎ Had her voice always sounded so sweet? 

୨ৎ Where did that scar on her lip come from?

୨ৎ When did she get this close to you?

୨ৎ “You good?” 

୨ৎ Your eyes snap up to meet hers, and what a pretty shade of blue, and you don’t even mean to lick your lips, and- 

୨ৎ “No fucking way,” she smirks, “you’re checking me out right now?” 

୨ৎ You’re quick to push off of her, immediately denying such claims

୨ৎ “No! What are you talking about? I’m not-”

୨ৎ “Dude, you so are; you just bit your lip!”

୨ৎ “I did not-” you break with a chuckle, closing your eyes. “I was not checking you out.”

୨ৎ“Look at you! Lying through your teeth! It was so obvious, Y/n, I swear to-”

୨ৎ “Are you gonna keep stating the obvious then? Or are you gonna do something about it?”

୨ৎ And oh, did she.

୨ৎ Right there in the studio. 

୨ৎ (And all those mirrors… really makes you think…)

୨ৎ Anyhow... it's safe to say that the next day, your instructor was pleasantly surprised to find that the lift was suddenly no longer an issue

୨ৎ You have your first costume fitting the next week

୨ৎ Your tutu was baby pink, covered in glitter and Swarovski crystals, and stuck straight out from your hips; it was exactly what you dreamed of wearing when you saw The Nutcracker for the first time

୨ৎ You'd beam at yourself in the mirror before turning to Ekko, who was already in his Nutcracker costume

୨ৎ "How do I look?" You'd ask

୨ৎ "Holy shit,"

୨ৎ You and Ekko would turn to the voice you'd recognize anywhere; and there stood a head of hot-pink hair, leaning against the doorframe of the ballet studio, chewing on a granola bar

୨ৎ "You look like a fucking cupcake."

୨ৎ Ekko would let out a bark of laughter, and you'd roll your eyes

୨ৎ "I'm a Sugar Plum Fairy," you'd correct, annoyance lacing your tone

୨ৎ "The Sugar Plum Fairy, lest I not forget," Vi would tease

୨ৎ And Ekko would think he was going crazy when he sees Vi shoot you a wink, and you smile back

୨ৎ “Pretty,” Vi would muse before strolling off into the hallway

୨ৎ Okay, now he was sure he was going crazy

୨ৎ “Wait… Y/n, is that a hickey on your neck?!”

End ୨ৎ

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

P.S. - so do y'all want a full-length dance studio smut scene or...

[cloversnstrawberries]

could you do platonic leon kennedy with his child that tried to escape him but failed, like how would he punish them?

"code 10-110" platonic!dad!yandere!leon s. kennedy & teen!runaway!gn!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist !

description; You know your dad meant well, but after he takes it way too far-- you decide to break free from his hold. Really, you should've known that you couldn't outrun him for long. After all, you were his kid, and he'd go to the end of the Earth to keep you safe (and by his side).

additional notes; hello!! i'm not sure if you aiming for headcanons or not, but i decided to do a oneshot!! i hope i did the concept justice,,, you're all very big brained when it comes to ideas. i love requests so much, because i don't think i ever would've come up with this idea; but i had so much fun writing it.

also, fun fact, i was in the gotham fandom for a long while!! i know a lot of police stuff because of that, so i vaguely remembered the "10 codes" from the get. 10-110 is a code for juvenile disturbance :D

warnings; Leon is Not Well, overprotectiveness, possessiveness, entrapment, running away, manipulation (more so of reader's environment more than reader themselves), cops/law enforcement, vague talk of violence/murder, and there ight be more I missed :[ if I missed one, please let me know! ^ ^

w/c; 4.5k

You didn't think you'd get this far.

Not for a lack of care in your plan-- no, you couldn't have been more careful as you planned everything and anything involved in your escape. Months passed before you enacted it. You bided your time, until you heard the birds outside start singing in the morning-- and when your dad came in to take away the space heater.

It was spring, and while you didn't know the exact date while locked away in a deceptively cozy, comfortable cell-- made to look like a bedroom, like your bedroom--, but he'd locked you away in September, so... around 5-6 months, you'd been holed up in there.

Your dad wasn't always like how is now, you think. Maybe there were traces of it-- but that was easily written off as him being a run-of-the-mill overprotective dad. He worked in law enforcement, he'd seen the worse humanity could offer and more.

And for that, you'd given him some slack. You tried not to snap at him when he made sure you weren't out of the house past 8, and that he had to have met a friend before you so much as hung out-- and god forbid sleepovers, those were reserved for only the most trustworthy friends with the must trustworthy of family.

There were a lot of rules when it came to interacting with you. Really, you tried not to let it get to you; but it was so... isolating. No one wanted to be your friend, and they especially didn't want to try and ask you out. It was like a death sentence, in their minds.

They took one look at your dad, and decided that'd he'd be the type to see you off to prom with a bullet in the head of your date. He's not like that. He doesn't kill people for it, for being near you or anything.

He'd never outwardly rude or violent about it either. But still, it was overbearing. It had gotten worse as you got older-- as he went on more missions, and after every one, he'd come back a little bit different.

A little bit more intense with his previously manageable protective nature-- you were starting to feel like a bird kept in a gilded cage. The list of rules he held you and your friends by was so long that even you couldn't keep track of it anymore,

Eventually, everyone left you. Ruled you off as the kid with a crazy dad that owns more guns and weapons then the average kid could've ever imagined.

You don't blame him for it-- not really. You understood it. He'd sat you down and explained to you time and time again, apologized for the way he was-- he just wanted you safe.

It all came to a head when he went a step too far.

15 minutes. That's all you'd been late by-- 15 goddamn minutes. He'd lowered the curfew from 8 to 7:30, then 7--

And eventually, it was down to fucking 5:00. You couldn't be out of the house without him being present after 5! Not even for a job! Nothing! He made no exceptions, and it irritated you to no end.

In an act of textbook teenage rebellion (not really, if you tried telling that to anyone around your age then they'd laugh in your face, call it a pathetic attempt at defiance) , you stayed out a little later than necessary. You popped into a gas station on the way back home from hanging out at the local library, got a bag of candy, and took your sweet old time walking home.

You knew there'd be consequences; but the ones you'd expected, like being unable to walk anywhere anymore, or losing privleges like your computer or TV, or even being grounded...

Well, safe to say that what he ended up choosing blew those other options far, far out of the water.

Anxiety curled in your gut as you thought about it more and more, the idea that you thought for sure you wouldn't make it this far. By no means did this make you feel any safer than you had before-- if anything, it puts you more on edge.

Honestly, you don't know what you thought you'd get out of this. You can't go to the cops-- you're just another runaway. Your dad hadn't skimped out on the story he wove about you,

When you first got out-- first pried your way out of that basement, bathed in mockingly warm light-- all the amenities your average teenager could ask for, save for the ability to leave--, you'd made the mistake of trying to head to the police station.

It was stupid, you realize. And nearly got yourself caught in less than 30 minutes-- they'd ushered you in, listened to your tale of how your dad trapped you down in a basement. The town had to have been buzzing, and you'd wrongfully assumed that your dad had been playing up the 'grieving father going through hell and back to try and find their kid'.

Luck. That's all you had on your side, pure, dumb luck that you got out of there in time. That the walls of the precinct were thin enough for you to hear the cops talking about you in the other room. They weren't much for hushed tones, which was stupid when they talking about someone in the room right next to them.

The chief had been called over, you think. Sounded like him. But regardless of who he was, what he said hit you like a ton of bricks, no matter the person behind it.

"You got Kennedy's kid? Ain't they sicker than a dog, though? Bedbound, didn't he say?" Then another one, the younger one that seemed the most trustworthy when she'd pulled you into the building, and gave you some water and a blanket, corrected the man, "He never said what kind of sick, sir. It might be... in their head, and I don't think he ever said bedbound. Just stuck in the house."

Blood rushed in your ears, grip tightening on the little paper cup in your hand. You fought against the primal urge to flee, to bolt straight up and scramble to the door you'd entered from; no regard for what or who you might of disturbed or knocked into/over.

Instead, you'd stood-- shaking, but trying to keep calm, and walked to the back. You headed out the employee entrance, where they'd clock in and out, you think.

You didn't run until you were a good ways away, until you got to a more residential part of the town. Frantically, like a startled animal, you darted past houses and through backyards; running in the general direction of a train track nearby.

God-- you don't know how you got it in your head that train hopping was the easiest way to hightail it out of there, but now, you're very much of the opinion that you will never do that again.

Maybe it was because it was your first time-- or maybe these things never get easier as you keep doing them-- but you were a hairs length away from losing a leg.

No.

You stayed on foot, or on greyhound buses and the occasional passenger train with the small bits of cash you could scrounge up before your escape from the house.

With no particular destination in mind, you found yourself in some non-descript, decrepit convenience store. The tiled floors were cracked and dirty, looking like they'd give you the black plague if you touched them head on; the fluorescent lights above bathed the store in a sickly sort of yellow hue, the buzzing seeming louder than it was supposed to be.

But hey, you weren't a code inspector. You'd gained nothing from ragging on the decrepit state of the place-- it was good enough, to grab some supplies. There were no bugs, and the displays were kept neat and clean; that's all you can really ask for, in a place like this.

When you got up to the checkout lane, the woman manning the register gave you a wary sort of look, on you've become rather accustomed to.

"Where you headin' to, sweetheart? I never seen you 'round these parts before." These sorts of conversations were a dime a dozen, you'd realized. It was only fair, for people to be worried about a random kid wandering about, seemingly unaccomponied by any guardian-- or even a friend.

But, you'd also become accustomed to answering these kinds of questions. To quickly shut them down with a soft hum and a "My aunt. I'm visiting her for a little bit."

You must've gone further south than you'd thought-- it was warm, and muggy, especially for spring. Her accent was heavier than you'd ever heard before, something you don't come across in the midwest. The kind of accent you only get if you've spent your whole life in the south, and never intend to leave it.

It might've been your lack of accent that set off alarm bells in her head, her hand stopping mid-scan. "What's her name, darl'? I bet I know her. Towns like these, you end up knowin' everyone by name."

Ah.

Yeah... that was a bit of a problem. Small towns and all-- but you can't really step into a big city either, yeah? It'd be crawling with cops, and you'd stick out like a sore thumb. Even more so than you do now.

"She's in the town over." You quickly pulled from your ass, but she didn't start scanning again "The next town is a 30 minute drive."

You bite your tongue, trying not to let irritation rise. She meant well, you're sure, but the longer you're here, the more of a chance you get discovered.

"I'm travelling by greyhound. The next bus comes in 10 minutes, and my bus stop is halfway across the city." There, that should put a fire under her feet, right? Make her start scanning again-- a solid enough answer to ease her worries, you hope.

For a moment, you were afraid she wouldn't. That'd she try to lead you to a backroom and call the cops, report a possible runaway. That was something that happened a lot, too. People who meant well, surely, but in the end-- all they could do was harm.

You don't want to think about how your dad would react. How he would punish you for this.

Then, as if angels were shining down from Heaven itself-- she started moving again, and the rest of the transaction went smoothly.

Though, the concern never eased from her eyes. You could still feel her gaze, piercing against your back as you made haste out of the convenience store.

Truth is, you... actually don't know when the next bus was. Or where it was going to. In all honesty, you'd been planning on taking a train out, but that wouldn't be here for a couple hours. You never did much research with it-- beyond making sure it wasn't going to some big city.

But, with a fire started under your own feet, you were forced back to the bus stop, and made to board the very next bus; no matter the desitination.

It seemed like your luck was running out now, as one-way country roads turned into four-lane highways, and when skyscrapers started coming into view; and the sign, declaring "ATLANTA - 5 MILES AHEAD"

You let yourself mumble a little curse, under your breath as you anxiously watched the traffic around you. This wasn't how this was meant to go. Yeah, you're in Georgia-- a far cry from the state of corn, wheat, and soy that you hail from, but still.

Not good.

It's almost certain your face was floating around on various TV programs, missing posters covering light posts and bulletin boards alike-- but you hoped and prayed to anything that'd listen that the efforts to make people aware of your disappearance hadn't stretched outside of your county, or at least your homestate.

But other than being caught, being in a city posed other risks. A lone-travelling teenager wasn't a good thing to be in places like these. You could easily get lost amongst the crowds, yes; but sometimes that worked in your favor, and sometimes it didn't.

This was not one of those times.

You hadn't showered in a while-- a week and a half. Gross? Sure, you'll admit that much; but showering wasn't on your top priority. Escaping your dad was your biggest concern right now, and personal hygiene wasn't something that could trump that need at any rate.

But that singled you out. You were dirty, looked homeless. As you cut through a park, you noticed that various hostile architecture covering nearly every bench around. Ads for Salvation Army and local homeless shelters right by them.

It was obvious this place wouldn't take too kindly to you, if they were trying as hard as you think they are at cracking down on homelessness.

Right before you could exit the park-- you noticed a cop. You eyed them, keeping watch, making sure they don't spot you. What was the chance, that they would? Or if they did, that they'd even care? It looked like they were on break, anyhow.

Just when you deemed yourself in the clear, enough to take your eyes off the officer and focus your gaze ahead of yourself, did you hear someone shout "Hey!"

Maybe it wasn't for you.

It probably wasn't,

but you couldn't take the chance. Regardless of the intent, of who it'd really been aimed it-- if it was even the cop that said it, you took off running. No doubt looking suspicious as hell, in the meanwhile.

Behind you, your paranoia was proven correct when you heard the same voice calling "We got a code 10-110 in Freedom park! Looks to be in early to mid teens, on foot!" You sped up at that-- you didn't recognize the code, obviously. You didn't spend too much time familiarizing yourself with police codes, y'know,

But it didn't bode well at all, how they started describing you to a goddamned T, right down to your brown, fur-lined bomber jacket you'd snagged from the coat closet back home.

You pushed your body harder, lungs burning and throat closing up with fear-- this can't be how it ends. It just can't. You won't let it, you'd rather jump in the Chattahoochee river and swim your way down to Florida then get caught like this.

In your panic, you lost your footing. A loose pebble worked its way under your shoe, and sent you tumbling forward and sprawled out on the hard, unforgiving concrete of a city sidewalk. People avoided you-- especially when, before you could even get up on your knees, the cop grabbed you and kept you down, shouting what sounded like gobble-dee-gook through the radio they'd unclipped from their hip.

In the end, it was a goddamn pebble that took you out! A pebble! You can't even be that mad, it was so ridiculous-- sure, if you thought harder, then that pebble never would've tripped you up if you weren't noticed and subsequently chased by that cop, and you never would've been in Atlanta if you hadn't lied through your teeth to that random, well-meaning southern lady--

You could do this all day, track all your little slights and mistakes to that one harrowing, terrible moment that it all came crashing down.

Two months and 17 days.

That's how long you'd made it.

That's it.

Really, you should be proud of yourself. Again, you never expected yourself to make it that long-- but still, it did nothing to quell that world-ending despair you felt that it'd come to an end.

If anything, it hurt more, that'd you'd lasted longer. You really thought you had a chance, only for a pebble to slip you up, and have shipped right back to your dads arms.

Right back to the basement, that's significantly more bare than before. There were still the basics, but all your magazines, books, journals, your TV, CD player, 3DS, PS3-- everything. Just... Everything was gone, except for the furniture, some clothes, and your blankets and pillows.

Though, he didn't take your stuffed animals. Maybe you should've felt insulted at that, find a way to twist it and make it seem like he was treating you as a child (which, for the record, he absolutely was; but for other reasons).

It'd just be a waste of energy, though. He was like a brick wall now-- those little flinches, the sad looks that'd sometimes find its way on his face, how his apologies sounded so genuine at times...

They were all gone, replaced with a cold sort of determination you'd only seen your dad have when he was working on a particularly high-stakes mission.

You curled up tighter, clutching the Invader Zim GIR plush you'd gotten for your 8th birthday closer to your chest; seeking whatever comfort you could, now that were back here.

Not even home. You refuse to think of this place as home anymore, especially not your dressed-up cell. Even if it had carpet floors instead of cold tiles, and the walls painted a sky blue instead of a dingy grey; you still saw it for what it was.

A prison. And while your dad might've tried to change your opinion on it before, after your little 'stunt', as he'd dubbed it, he all but leaned into your perception of the space.

You heard the door click. And once upon a time, you would've rushed to it; hoped that you could shoulder your way past your dad-- only for him to laugh and think you were just happy to see him. You let him believe that at the time.

And now, you just flip over. You defiantly face the wall, not giving your dad the time of day. It was the only way you could fight back now, and even then you knew it was useless. That he'd force you to engage regardless of what you did,

That, realistically, your silent treatment couldn't last long at all. Eventually, you'll need to talk to him. To ask him for more toothpaste, or make a specific request for dinner; or even ask him the date.

He never told you the last one, always giving you wildly differing answers that'd thrown you off at first, before you caught on. Caught onto how he was trying to keep out of the know on the weather, so you wouldn't try and book it when the weather was more hospitable.

Even as you felt the mattress deep near the end of your metal-framed, twin-sized daybed; you didn't stir. You didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe; like a rabbit caught in the teeth of a tricky fox.

"Kid, you can't keep doing this." You don't answer him. This was by far the longest you'd been able to keep up with this small, but meaningful, act of rebellion. A few days, at least. You don't a way of tracking it indefinitely, but you've figured out a less concrete way of telling the passage of time.

That being how often he visited. It differed, sometimes he'd go longer without visiting, and other times he'd pop up every what-felt-like 30 minutes or so. There was no telling what mood he'd be in for the day, but you managed.

It's been a while, you know that much. And he was getting rather impatient, even if he tried to mask it. You haven't so much as looked his direction this whole time, only getting up and moving around when the coast was clear. When there was neither hide nor hair of your dad's presence,

Save for the camera, stuck up in the corner near the door. You know it's there-- it's a new addition, and you make a point of not looking at it, refusing to acknowledge it. You knew there was a good chance it was just a scare tactic, that it wasn't actually hooked up...

But still, you had to stick with this. You had to be going somewhere with this, after all.

A heavy sigh came next, then your dad shifted from where he sat at the end of the bed. Scooting up, closer to you. It took all you had not to curl up tighter. You had to stay still. You had to act like you weren't there, like you were just a ghost.

When his hand landed on your shoulder, you couldn't help but flinch a little at it. Even though the contact was soft, kind; just like the man who'd raised you all by his lonesome, though his current behavior was a far cry of who he used to be.

Or maybe, just what your perception of him had been. Maybe he was always like this, he just... snapped. Couldn't take it anymore and decided to put his worries to rest for the foreseeable future.

"Listen," You wish you didn't. You wish you could shut off your brain and just lay there, truly motionless; unseeing, unhearing, and unmoving, until he gave up and left you alone.

He knew you had to, though. Otherwise he wouldn't hve kept talking. You have nothing else to do, no other viable option but to listen to what he has to say-- whatever ultimatum he's come up with now.

You won't fold. You won't give in, you tell yourself. Not now, not ever; not until he gives up for good, and lets you back into society.

(deep down, you know that was never an option. especially now. you knew that he had his claws deep in you, that he wasn't going to let go. that he wouldn't dare to, lest his precious, sweet child get hurt along the way)

(it was all for your own good, he'd tell you. you never believed him. maybe he did believe that himself, but you knew better; you knew that, at the core of it, this was for his own benefit. keeping you locked up, away from the world-- it minimized the worries he had about you getting hurt.)

(about you being taken away from him, like so many people before you had. so many loved ones, friends, families, significant others-- he can't have the cycle repeating with you. he just can't. anyone else, anyone else but you.)

His hold on your shoulder tightened. Just a little, but it still made your haunches raise; made the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight. You hope he didn't notice.

"The sooner you accept this, the sooner your punishment will end, okay? This is for your own good."

Don't do it, you told yourself-- don't you dare, you don't need to respond--

"You keep saying that." Your voice was rough and croaky from disuse, and you cleared your throat to try and take a little bit of the edge off. You could almost feel the brightness and warmth of your dads smile, bearing into your back-- now that you finally deemed him worthy enough of a response. "And I'll keep saying it, as long as I mean it."

You huffed-- his definition of punishment had always been... loose. He never took it out on you, rather on others. He wasn't violent or rude per se, but if one of your friends were present when you two got into a tight spot...

Well. Let's just say your dad can yell like a drill sergeant if he's pushed to it. And that those friends never showed their faces around you again, in fear of inciting his wrath again. And you don't blame them.

But he's never done that to you, no-- you were his precious little angel, of course. He'd much sooner blame himself for being too 'lax' on you, that he left any doubt in your head that he didn't mean the best for you.

It was all very backhanded, how he assumed that you running away was not because of how insanely overprotective he was being-- but because he wasn't being overprotective enough.

Really, someone needs to study his brain. Maybe he got something in his system when he was on a mission, that crossed wires in his brain and made him think that this was perfectly fine. Lying about your kid being ill and locking you away for no fault of your own.

You two lapse into an uncomfortable silence, but not for long. No. Never for long, not with your dad around.

"I'm sorry you feel this way." There it is. He always says that-- not 'I'm sorry I'm basically holding you captive in the basement' or 'I'm sorry for not taking your thoughts, feelings, and dreams into consideration'. No, it's always 'i'm sorry you feel this way' or 'i'm sorry that you don't like it here',

Always followed up by an excuse, which speaking of, should be coming right about... "But there was no way around it. I just want the best for you, kid."

There we go-- he says that one a lot, 'there was no way around it'. You go to argue, but decide against it. It never gets you anywhere, and you consider going back to the silent treatment.

Until his hold on your shifted-- he flipped you over and pulled you up to sit. It never failed to spook you, how easily he could still move you around like you were a toddler. He worked as a government agent-- duh, he's going to be strong, but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

He could snap you like a goddamned toothpick if he so wished-- but you knew that wasn't a concern, not in the slightest. You much more afraid of him snapping anyone who was unfortunate to get close to you like a toothpick.

And then, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you close. The sort of side-hug was uncomfortable for you, physically speaking. Your neck straining at the angle it landed in, and you not caring enough to make nay move to alleviate it.

Surely, your dad noticed it-- but didn't comment on it. He did shift a little, though. Tried to have you more comfortable.

It worked a bit, but not by much. You couldn't be bothered to try any further.

"I love you, kid. You know that, don't you?" All he got in response was a little grunt, short and curt. What followed was the saddest little laugh you'd ever heard from your dad. "I know, I know. It doesn't feel like that, but I really am trying."

He pulled you closer, the hug feeling more like a boa constrictor's embrace than the comforting hold of a parent. "I can't lose you. I can lose anything else, but not you. Not my kid."

That part, you believed. Just for the clear, rock-solid resolve in his tone. You know he loves you-- you know that he doesn't want to lose you,

and that was part of the problem, a major one, no less.

"...I love you too." You manage to cough out, and only then did he release you from the ever-tightening, awkward side hug. As soon as you were free, you flopped right back on your side.

You didn't flip around to the face the wall just yet, thought. And your dad took that as an invitation for conversation-- you weren't too active in it, but you did give some input here and there.

[luveline]

jadey - HONEY - listenlistenlisten, so I feel like you said you'd write for hopper?? but if not (because he's not on the official list) please ignore this request! BUT would you be able to write something about hopper visiting reader in the hospital after she was almost posessed by vecna?? whether this is still early stages of relationship or already established, you pick, gorgeous!! (also ik this means no hopper/joyce but personally I prefer hopper/me??) xoxoxo BIG SMOOCHES

ty for your request, love u! ♡

Nobody would ever believe you, but you know it's Hopper from the smell. You've missed him for months, and though the scent of him wore away from his sweatshirt before you thought you had time to memorise it, you know without opening your eyes that it's him sitting beside you. 

Your heart monitor beeps loud and erratic. 

"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't freak out." 

It won't listen to him, how could it? Not even the oily fog of painkillers can dull the reality of him being here, right here, this close. 

"You're supposed to be dead," you croak, peeling your eyes open achingly slowly. 

"Aren't you a little old for teen angst?" he asks. 

He's real. He's real, you're exhausted, you almost died, but he's alive. Tears well in your eyes of their own accord, not a lick of choice in it as Hopper takes your arm into his hand. 

"You look sick," you say tearily. 

"Nice. You look worse."  

"Where's your," —you gesture to his body— "everything?" 

He's lost a dramatic amount of weight, hollows sunk under his eyes. He grins despite your insult and leans back in his chair, hand sliding down toward yours, fingers pushing between your knuckles to twine them together firmly. "Russian weight loss program. Like it?" 

You're honestly not sure. Maybe when the shock has worn off you'll feel strongly either way, but right now it's his obvious alive-ness that takes centre focus. 

"I missed you," you say. You've not even a syllable into 'missed' when your voice disappears, the agony of your admission knocking the air from your lungs in one callous blow. "I missed you so much." 

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I'm sorry." 

You start to sit. Hopper stands and slips his hands behind your shoulders, helping you up with a tenderness you've dreamt about every night since he disappeared. There was no time to define what you were to one another, all these months you've been grieving a maybe, but you know the connection you had was more than real when he reaches down the millisecond you reach up. His lips smashed to your forehead and his big hands spread and searching like he's trying to stop you from falling away from him, you splutter as the air is knocked from your chest again. 

"Sorry I wasn't here to look after you," he says.

He hugs you for so long you figure you must be dreaming. There's a familiarity to his embrace even if the feel of him has changed, security with a little less padding. "What happened to you?" you ask hesitantly. 

"What happened to me? You just had something– someone in your head. You almost broke your neck, you could've died." 

"I'm lucky. I am. It could've been worse." It was worse for others. Your voice wobbles embarrassingly. It doesn't put Hopper off. You used to worry that being younger than him would make you too different; you aren't a kid but you haven't lived a life as agonisingly detailed as he has. You're scared there won't be room in his head for your weight, too, but there always is. "You're back," you say, relieved.

"I'm back." 

You breathe out. 

"Let me see you," he demands, drawing away to check you over. 

Your skin is clammy and has been for days, you weren't sleeping —sleeping meant dreaming. Hearing the toll. You've chased sleep with coffee and caffeine pills and bad TV, each day going a little more insane with wanting Hopper back. There were moments when you knew for sure he was dead, and moments you hated yourself for entertaining the idea. Whatever you deserved, he's here, wiping your sleep crusted eyes with a careful thumb. 

"Well, you're still a sight for sore eyes." 

"Yeah?" you ask, laughing until you cough. "I look good in the gown, right?" 

"Better out of it," he suggests, kissing the top of your head. He lingers there too long. You can read his mind for that single moment. 

He's not happy with himself for letting you face it alone. Which begs the question. What kept him away?

"Hop, where have you been?" you ask gently. 

"I'll tell you everything after you eat something." 

"Me?" 

"I almost forgot how rude you are," he says, rubbing your cheek fondly. "Shit. Like I could forget a thing about you." 

You take his hand from your face to clear a path. "That's romantic. Hit your head while you were gone?" He nods, hangs his head, lets you cover the back of it with your hands. You pull him forward, searching for hair he doesn't have. "What did they do to you?" you murmur sadly. 

"Don't say that. The neck up is as good as it gets." 

"I don't believe that for a second," you say, though you worry about what he means. "You better go find me something to eat. I want to know everything that's happened." 

"Got a waiting room full of people who aren't gonna like that," he says, lifting his head.

"I really, truly don't care," you say, still so softly. "I've been waiting to see you again for a long time. They can… they can walk a mile in my shoes." 

"Whatever you want." Hopper clasps your elbow. "Anything you want." 

[magnoliapromenadegalleria]

THOUGHTS & WATCH: THE HEART KILLERS

- Kant, what is Capt Crunch going to do with photos of sex toys and artwork? You fool only yourself, let's continue.

-Fadel is itching to shoot Kant, he's not going to need a reason. It'd be like a treat.

-Fadel is in peak dad form, what about Bison made him think he wouldn't find Kant being a thief hot???

-Bison telling Fadel everyone has a past. Shoot, present too. EXHIBITS F(ADEL) AND B(ISON)!

-Fadel bringing up the fact Kant has never been arrested is TEA!

-Bison is properly dickmatized because Kant's flag is red. Then again, Bison's is like a deep maroon so...

-Style has confidence that would rival Galinda's. Yes I watched Wicked. A time was had.

-Not Fadel missing his stalker menace. Not you dickmatized like your brother after that speech.

-Having a phone on a cutting board and handling it with your gloved hand as a food-handling owner of a burger joint is UNSANITARY FADEL!

-Bison is for sure a little bit suspicious now if he wasn't before.

-"I only accept apologize in fries"...close enough, same.

-"You're turned on when I mess with you" Style CLOCKED!

-Okay but wait, Style's tee being cut like that is kind of a look.

-Fadel please change your gloves.

-I love that Fadel and Kant are the same person in different fonts.

-I love Bison questioning Kant about why he didn't tell him he used to boost cars like he's not an S-rank assassin. Pot, meet kettle.

-Style has audacity that would rival Galinda's.

-Slapped the mess outta that bully's ear, we love to see a protective big brother.

-What's Christopher doing up at the school house?

-That teacher made Bison's list

-"I'm not proud of it. I just didn't have a choice." This feels layered.

-Oh the teachers a ???...BISON DO YOUR THING!

-They beat up the teacher and are about to ruin his career. You love to see it.

-Style lacks shame. Love that.

-Yeah Kant, be scared of Bison. "Tee hee, jk" yeah, haha hell. Bison meant that from his SOUL.

-Seeing the Jude beer, just knowing that Sand and Ray are out in the same universe with a successful venture. Ugh, my heart.

-I really don't think Kant was faking when he was making those boyfriend comments during the Babe situation, it's obvious that he doesn't play about his brother. I say during because outside of that it was laid on thick. Me thinks some feelings are fighting their way to the surface.

-What if the burger pin is bugged? WHAT IF?!

-Fadel's confession that he likes Style's annoying ass is so cute. Earlier than expected, but I'm not mad at that. He's gonna be pissed once he finds out about the car deal Style made with Kant. But for now, CUUUUTEEEEEE! Edit: I saw at least two people mention that Fadel's speech in this moment reminded them of Kat's poem in 10 Things I Hate About You. That's EXACTLY what the inspiration, I'm convinced!

-Regret is creeping up on Kant.

-Style better not be playing and is actually happy that he bagged Fadel because he actually wants him.

-Bison is giving annoyingly cute little brother AT THE WRONG TIME!

-"Dad?" "Mom?" EXCUSE ME?!?!?!

-I was not expecting Style to find out about Fadel and Bison so soon, but at least now no one can say Kant didn't tell him. And Kant isn't even convinced they can get away with this.

-Style is acting so weird and awkward, maybe Kant shouldn't have told him.

-I know an ex when I see one.

-Clocked it.

-You could've gone to any tattoo artist in Thailand, but you chose your former flame to blacken the tattoo out? Mmkay. "Why'd I keep it? It means nothing to you anyway" Boy if you don't get out the damn chair!

-Wait so they weren't even exes and he got Kan'ts first initial tattooed on his neck??? The boys are not alright!

-Kant has a jealous and deadly boyfriend on his hands. OOOOOoooohooooohoooohooohoooooooooo.

Oooooh I just know I'm gonna expand on some of this later!

[tsukimefuku]

Right, wrong and the in-between (Part 1)

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You and Higuruma were assigned to investigate the disappearance of women around Shinjuku. This led to a dicey situation regarding what place Jujutsu sorcerers occupy in this world and what is their role to play when non-sorcerers get involved.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". There is currently a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)  The "Right, wrong and the in-between" will be a 4 (maybe 3) part short-story set in this AU. This is the first part, I hope you enjoy! The tags below will be applicable to every chapter.

Tags: oc/f!reader, soft/implied Higuruma x reader, soft/implied Nanami x reader, slow burn, mentions of violence and non-con/abuse among side characters, canon typical violence, some angst, some fluff, just characters being themselves driving the plot (and me) insane. Some philosophical debate will be in place.

WC: 1.7k

"Well, this looks like a one-man job." Higuruma said, with his small gavel resting lazily on the side of his forehead. You were both seated at the backseat of a Jujutsu Tech's car, and Ijichi was driving.

"Oh, it sure is," you replied, "but you can't be going on solo missions until further notice. So you're stuck with me for the time being."

"Oh, no. I'm definitely not complaining of 'being stuck' with you." He replied, looking at you. "I just think that there's probably a better way of using such scarce resources, like jujutsu sorcerers. This parole should've been over already, that's my point. I already commited myself with atoning for my crimes and fight alongside Jujutsu High."

"Higuruma, it could be worse. You could've been executed." You said, as you put the side of your forehead on the car's window and closed your eyes. "The higher ups are awful like that, I know it firsthand. I just hope they'll all die or go to hell soon enough."

That caught his attention, and made a small bead of sweat appear in Ijichi's temple as he looked at you through the rearview mirror. "You have told me to have your issues with them, but never clarified what they were. I mean, you don't strike me as the type to do something that would render you at risk of getting a death sentence, or anything of the sort." Higuruma pondered, now curious. "So how would you know?"

"Oh, how would you know that about me, now? We've been working together for only three weeks, smart-ass" you said as you looked at him, scoffed and smiled. "If you behave today and I don't get bedridden for whatever reason, maybe I'll tell you over some drinks at HQ, since you're still on a leash. I will get us some beer, and we'll bash on the established power right under their roof. How's that sound?"

He smiled. "Fine. We have a deal. But I get pretty argumentative when I drink, just a heads-up."

You chuckled. "Wouldn't expect any less from you." Even if you were working alongside Higuruma for a short amount of time, you actually appreciated the guy's company — when he wasn't being a risky maniac on the battlefield —, and could totally get behind his disdain for Jujutsu High. You felt that way about them yourself, and with good reason.

After the bantering, you started to mentally go over the mission you were both assigned. 

Many women were going missing in an area of Shinjuku, Tokyo's red-light district, for the past few weeks. It wouldn't be something to be dealt by Jujutsu High if it weren't for the cursed energy traces left around the places these women were going missing from. The disappearances were undoubtedly due to cursed activity, so Higuruma and you were sent out to investigate.

"Ijichi, is there any indication this could be due to a curse user?" You asked.

"No, Ms. Why do you ask?"

You went over some pictures they had sent to you on your phone. "There is no blood, guts, or anything like that in any of these places. I mean, curses are often related to disappearances, sure, but it's not a very curse-like behavior to kidnap people in so many different places through such a large area."

"So a curse user with criminal intent is the most likely scenario?" Higuruma completed.

"Yes. It would make more sense. And considering the area of Kabukicho, it's possible these women..." Your stomach turned on itself before you could finish your sentence. You were all silent at that moment, for you all knew what that meant.

Higuruma sighed. "Yes, it makes sense."

"Oh. Hey, Ijichi, what is Nanami up to? Haven't seen him in some days." You asked. Since getting promoted to a Grade 1 sorcerer, you stopped going on missions with Nanami and were mostly taking on tasks alone until you were assigned to shepherd Higuruma. 

"He's actually working on another mission around Shinjuku too." Ijichi replied.

"Oh, he is?" The excitement in your voice was clear as day, as you said that with a smile. Higuruma looked at you seemingly a little dissatisfied, but said nothing.

"Yes. But he's on the opposite side of Shinjuku, currently."

"Oh." You deflated a little. "Well, drink night with the sorcerers is almost up the corner. See you both there, Ijichi."

He smiled as his face blushed slightly. "See you there."

You looked at Higuruma. "And I hope you're liberated from your leash soon enough, so you can join us too. I'd be happy to see you there."

He was a little surprised as he looked back at you. "Oh. Okay." Was all he managed to answer.

After 6 minutes, you arrived at your destination. The street was covered with signage and neon lights over the buildings, which were all crammed together, in a tight and claustrophobic pack. Since it was still afternoon, there was not much effervescence, given that this part of Shinjuku would become more lively during nighttime.

"Ijichi, we will go looking around to see if we find anything. When we do, I'll cast a veil myself, okay? Wait for us here." You told him, as you and Higuruma started to make your way down the street.

"So, we're looking for cursed energy traces that could lead us to our culprit?" Higuruma asked you.

"Precisely. Be it a curse or curse user, this was sloppy as hell. They left remains in every scene." You replied. "Shouldn't be so hard to track them down."

"Fine, then. Let's get this over with."

***

After some walking around, you both stood in the front of a building that seemed to have some cursed energy traces over the door. They were very faint, but were definitely there. The club was closed, and would only open after 6PM. 

"Well, do you want to look around while we wait for it?" You asked Higuruma.

"Anything to be out of headquarters. I thought I knew what being arrested felt like, but it's so much worse than I thought. Not having the freedom to come and go to places... It's dreadful." He replied, his body trembling unconsciously.

"Oh, really?" You said. "I thought you’d be used to that. I mean… You were a criminal defense lawyer."

He sighed. "Yes. But then I wasn't. It's a matter of will, you see, fighting a broken system from within." He put his gavel away, deducing you both wouldn't be facing any harm anytime soon. "There is no way to win a game when you're bound by the constraints of the game's unfair rules."

"Was breaking free worth it?" You asked.

***

When you were assigned Higuruma's case, to hunt him down, you were briefed on his situation. A curse user that was a lawyer and had awoken his abilities right after a trial, killing the prosecutor and the judge in the process. After that, he basically remained hidden for a few weeks before Jujutsu High located him. He expanded his domain on you and confiscated your cursed technique, but as you both started brawling, a curse attacked, lured in by the cursed energy you were both emanating. In a split second, you told Higuruma to run, and that you would face the grade 1 curse alone. You just felt, right then, that this man wasn't deserving of death. He had killed two people, of course, but nobody actually knew why that happened or even bothered to investigate it adequately. You wanted to hear what he had to say about it.

"You have no cursed technique anymore!" Higuruma shouted.

"Just fucking go! Run! I'll handle this!" You answered, charging to punch the curse with cursed energy. It had multiple arms, like a spider, and it took only one swing to send you all the way across the place, having you hit concrete and spit blood.

Shit. Higuruma felt it would be unfair to let you tackle this by yourself, with no cursed technique, after he was the one who removed it from you. He'd be indirectly responsible for your death, and this was completely different from fighting you and defeating you himself. This miniscule spark of morals coming back to him felt... Strange.

He took his gavel and proceeded to exorcize the curse as you watched mesmerized at how well this guy could fight in a such short amount of time. You texted Gojo asking for help without Higuruma noticing, because in that state, you wouldn't be much use defeating this man. After Higuruma was done, before he could leave, Gojo appeared, and you shouted for him not to kill the guy. Gojo knocked him out rather quickly, and you proceeded to explain everything that had happened, while also requesting his assistance to suspend Higuruma's sentence.

"He's strong. He exorcized this grade 1 curse without my help, and he awakened his abilities a week ago or so." You said. "I think this guy has potential. I talked to him, and he seems... misguided."

Gojo pondered for a moment with Higuruma over his shoulder. "Are you sure? I mean, he's the one that put you in this situation in the first place."

"I'm sure." You said. "Gojo, you saved me from the claws of the higher ups. They're arbitrary bigots, you know that. Please, trust me. Take this as a request from a friend." You felt indebted for that man, guilty or not, had just saved your life.

Gojo sighed and smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up. "I'll do my best. But you'll owe me another bag of kikufuku."

You smiled back at him. "Of course."

***

"I don't know." He answered earnestly, looking at you. "I'm still deciding while I atone for my crimes. After all, I left one broken system and ended up entangled in another. People seem to be terrible wherever I go."

You laughed. "Well, that's for sure."

"Aren't you going to try to dissuade me from that stance?" Higuruma asked. "That people are terrible?"

You scoffed. "Me? Hell no. We're a duo of cynical people. Can't promise to give you back any sense of ideal or anything of the sort. You'll have to find it for yourself."

He smiled at you. "You think of yourself in a curious way. I wouldn't say you're cynical." He replied.

"Oh, really? What am I, then?" You retorted.

At that moment, you heard two voices in the street around the corner. They were indistinguishable, but sounded female. You both approached quietly, and saw a woman in her late fifties, wearing a velvety crimson robe, guiding a lady — who must've been no more than over twenty-years-old — inside the building through a back door.

"Well, that was suspicious. That woman looked like a pimp" you said.

"You're someone that sees things for what they are" he concluded.

[jennelikejennay]

I watched two TOS episodes recently, Metamorphosis and Wolf in the Fold. Both were interesting, neither was awful, but I can see the reason people who have seen this kind of episode calling the show misogynistic.

I disagree, because our heroes never for a second hate women, but both episodes are extremely gender essentialist, and the women lack agency almost entirely.

First: Metamorphosis.

This is the one where they find Zefram Cochrane and he's being kept forever by a cloud creature called the Companion.

In a shocking twist, we find out that the Companion is a girl. This changes everything apparently:

KIRK: Feminine. No doubt about it.

SPOCK: Yes. The matter of gender could change the entire situation.

KIRK: I'm way ahead of you.

SPOCK: Then it is not a zookeeper.

KIRK: No. A lover.

How can a cloud be a girl? Well, gender (and heterosexuality) is a constant of the universe it seems.

COCHRANE: Captain, why did you build that translator with a feminine voice?

KIRK: We didn't.

COCHRANE: But I heard—

KIRK: The idea of male and female are universal constants, Cochrane. There's no doubt about it. The Companion is female.

The assumption that every species has those two genders and is always heterosexual is bad enough. But beyond that, unspoken, is the idea that falling in love is what women do, that if a woman is on screen it is safe to assume that it's because of a romantic situation. Why couldn't the woman still be a zookeeper? Or maybe have maternal emotions? Or want to be friends?

The complete absorption of a female character is glossed over. She's not dead, anyway, and some other lady can do her old job. Byyyye!

So. The idea was interesting but the execution left much to be desired.

Next was Wolf in the Fold. I skipped it last time I was watching because it didn't sound very good. And I was right! It's not.

First off, the male gaze is.... noticeable.

It's not as bad as it could've been. This lady appears to be doing this for fun, and she's happy to leave with Scotty. It's just that the society is very free and sensual. Okay.

The other weird thing is that Bones and Kirk say that they're setting this up for Scotty, to cure his irrational hatred of women, because it happened to be a woman who caused him to be injured recently. So really, it's medicinal. At first it sounds like they're joking, but then the log says the same?

Either way, I don't really care for the scene. It feels like the woman exists to be pretty and presumably to sleep with Scotty, and then, of course, to be killed.

The plot here is that something is killing a lot of women, and Scotty is suspected, but [spoiler] turns out it's another cloud creature. It feeds on fear, and therefore preys on women because they have "more fear." A lot of unsolved murders of women throughout history turn out to be because of this thing.

It feels like it glosses over all the actual reasons women are so often targeted for crime, with gender essentialism again.

So, on the "women are real characters with agency" scale, these two episodes fail. Women are the problem, which the male characters solve.

That said, I don't think either one does much to support the accusation that Kirk is a misogynist. In both cases, it's the situation that's the problem, the world itself. Could he call it out better? Sure. But he does help the Companion get her man, and he does catch the woman-killing creature, so that's nice.

Then he heads off to a café where "the women are so—"

We never get to hear what the women at the café are like, except that it's clearly something sexy, given Spock's lack of interest. I don't think it's wrong to like to look at pretty women—I also like to look at pretty women—but it still feels pretty scuzzy the way it's depicted. As if the women were a product available at the café rather than people they might meet there.

So. I can sure see why these episodes weren't on the lists of "best of TOS" that guided me on my first watch through.

[griefabyss69]

First Fic Tag Game

Gooooooood morning(etc), I've been tagged in a few games and I have them all written in a document so I don't forget! Revolutionary. I might not get to them all but I appreciate being tagged anyway <3 Rules: Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

Tagged by @postmodernau @steddie-island @occasionaloverboy, thank you!!!!

Here's from either my first fic or my second fic, I'm not sure. The writing is definitely........ old. And unedited. Maybe a WIP forever, but I might take some of the ideas from it and put them into something new. I think it's still fun and it's kinda charming to look back on it! I think I was trying to organize my thoughts as much as Eddie was in here lmao :' )

~~~~~~~

It didn't take a long time to notice the traumatic habits of his new friends. Some of them were more obvious, out in the open and almost unashamed.

They all carried some kind of weapon with them. They all memorized each other's favorite songs. Code names, planned check ins, and strict radio etiquette, all impressively adhered to even with the youngest ones.

Nightmares and moments of freezing up weren't really discussed but they were quietly worked through in the background of their lives. Everyone seemed to have a no-judgment thing going on for that, the most important rule even if it was unspoken. Eddie quickly noticed that Steve was really good at being a solid person to lean on. He usually noticed first when someone needed a grounding hand on their shoulder, a reality check, or even just a snack.

This was a part of a map Eddie had created in his head, of everyone's social roles.

There were little arrows going to and from everyone, different colors indicating connections like who were best friends, who were partners (and exes), who relied on who for important things. Everyone had at least a few arrows going out and coming in, from family members and friends and of course, support coming in from Steve.

Steve had plenty of arrows going out, but the only one coming in that Eddie would put down in ink is from Robin. It had it's own special color, a hot pink that he doesn't think either of them would like. In his mental image of the color key, it's labeled Platonic Soulmates.

Some of the arrows directed towards Steve had little lines blocking them off. Mostly from the Little Hellion's moms, who he think would have tried to adopt him already if he wasn't already an adult. Another is from Nancy, and he can understand why Steve keeps her at an arm's length, even if he thinks he's being stupid.

Eddie tries not to think about any of this too hard, he has his map because it helps him keep track of who lives with who and who has fucked off to California for a while and if he should be worried about any of the kids. He tries not to think about Steve, who can handle whatever life tries to throw at him, even when it's Hell itself.

He focuses on the kids, learning the rest of the horrors that they went through before he arrived on the scene.

Planning campaigns is a trickier task now, given that everyone has at least one thing that will make them go quiet and cold. He didn't really notice it before, usually just thought someone was having a bad day and made sure to secretly go easier on them for the rest of the session, but now he wonders how he could've been so unaware.

He starts a list pretty quickly into planning the first one after he's out of the hospital. At first it had just been the Hellfire Club and anything that he knows to avoid for them, but he expands it to everyone he sees on a regular enough basis. For easy reference, and also because he can't squash the naive hope that some of them will want to join in one day.

He's got something written down for everyone, except for Steve.

As much as he tries to not let it get to him, it bothers him. He KNOWS Steve has nightmares, even if he's never been around for them.

The more he tries to ignore this missing piece of information, the harder the creature that dictates his focus digs its claws in. It feels weird, like he's being a creep, to want to know what will upset Steve that badly, the fact that he wants the knowledge for good not really helping.

He used to keep his distance from him, only hanging out with him if someone else was going to be there, and keeping the conversations mostly superficial or about the kids.

He starts to talk to him more, hangs out with him while he's working even when Robin isn't. It's honestly nice, Steve is surprisingly easy to get along with, and when he first offers to let Eddie come over and watch movies with him all night, he doesn't turn him down.

They quickly make a habit of it, Steve surprisingly astute for someone who jokes about being stupid all of the time. Any time Eddie hasn't been able to sleep or is starting to feel hollowed out, he ends up watching movies with him that night, even if Steve has to work in the morning.

For all of his observations and cataloging, Steve seemed to be doing just fine.

This should have been an answer, but the thing inside of him just digs its claws in further. He wouldn't say he's becoming obsessed, but that's only because he's good at performing his own personality that he can lie to even his own mind.

Spending more time together doesn't leave Eddie unscathed, though. The reason of his initial distance elbows it's way back to the top of his List of Struggles, bringing CAN'T FUCKING SLEEP down to number two.

The Number One Worst Struggle in Eddie's life is now his giant hard-on for Steve.

Nobody with taste could blame him, but his life would be much easier if he didn't have to look him in the face the morning after having weird (hot) dreams about him. Sometimes he falls asleep beside him on the couch and dreams about Steve using him as a pillow, which isn't as sexy but makes his face get hot just the same. Sometimes he stares at his hands and wonders what it'd be like to hold them, which is worse, because at least he understands his sexual fantasies.

He can't expect his dick to make good decisions, but he'd like it if the rest of him would.

About two months into torturing himself with the magic of friendship, he finally figures him out, though. It's not surprising that it took so long, it's not as simple as avoiding demons that look like bats or big bads that get into people's minds. To be honest he thinks it simply required getting to know him, and spending a lot of fucking time with him. Someone who was less observant (obsessed) probably wouldn't have figured it out.

Steve's terrified of being idle. Great at sitting still, doesn't really fidget which is something that Eddie finds more alien than his giant house.

He just doesn't have unplanned time. If he's not working or doing what Robin calls his Single Mom activities, he's usually running errands or doing a favor for someone, often finding an excuse to hang out with whoever's around. With enough people, it's not obvious unless they all decided to compare their time spent with him.

To be honest it makes a lot of sense to Eddie, he doesn't like to feel like a sitting duck either. Steve takes it further though, seems to think if he's not a constant presence in people's lives they'll just forget about him.

[fangirl-in-general]

Hey! I know it's been a HOT minute since I've uploaded but here we are with another update! (This one is a little shorter than the others)

Previous chapter

Master list

Warnings: Fem!Reader, mild depictions of violence, stalking???, slight language, slight gene x reader

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An mcd!Garroth x Reader series

Legendary Pt4

"So...Aph is building her own place now? How's that going? I'm sure Brendan is happy to have a break" You'd been trying to break the silence for the past hour, it was honestly getting sad. Garroth tensed slightly at the mention of the new 'stand-in Lord'. You'd been taking note of how often he did so over the hour that You'd been searching the woods together; It was happening so often that had Zenix been in your place he might have had to take his shoes off, Irene knows he can't count to twenty with them on. But you weren't annoyed...you weren't, totally. You had no reason to be.

"...Lady Aphmau has taken the task by storm. It's a modest little home. She's placed it atop the hill just beyond Bredan's place." He turned his back to you and began inspecting a tree.

"Ok, what's up?"

He turned to you again. "Pardon?"

A scoff barely left your mouth, as you took the opportunity to poke some bushes with your sword, surely that seemed casual and not like you were trying to hide...right?? "The whole, ye olde prince talk. I know it's your mysterious upbringing and all, but you don't use it with me unless you're nervous about something." You glanced over your shoulder, he could've been mistaken for a statue. "You like her, don't you?"

"...what? Ugh. Of course I like her, she's our friend"

"Hey, watch it. Your eyes are gonna fall out if you keep rolling them that hard. And you know that's not what I mean." You couldn't help softening your tone as you spoke to him. Maybe this was good! You've had overwhelming feelings for Garroth for as long as you could remember (literally), you know that. He was the only person who was consistently there to support you, though you couldn't blame anyone, it's hard the truly support someone they only saw for a few days out of every month. But Garroth was always there. He would write constantly while you were away, and he was always waiting right at the edge of town when you got back.

You could vividly remember the time you got held up by a rainstorm and didn't make it back when you said you would. Not only did Garroth continue to wait, getting soaked in the process, but he grew so worried that you'd catch a cold in such weather that he trudged through the woods for five hours looking for you himself. By the time you reunited it was because the rain had cleared, and you'd made it back only to find him missing from your usual meeting post, prompting you to pass Delphi off to Zenix so you could search for him. You found him miles into the woods, the clothes beneath his armor still dripping in rainwater. To this day no one has ever embraced you so tightly for so long. You could never forget the way he tore his glove off to check you for a fever, to no avail of course, his skin was ice against yours, and you'd never tell anyone, but you could've sworn you heard a strained sob tear through the old guard as he began to cradle you face in his exposed hands. He may have gotten himself sick, but from that moment on he always took his gloves off when you were alone.

But that didn't matter. Being close doesn't mean he has feelings for you, especially not when he'd been so clearly doting on, following, and obsessing over Aph. I mean, he froze and stammered every time someone mentioned her name for goodness' sake. What matters is that he's happy, and you'd be damned if he gave up his happiness just because the two of you had a bond.

"Tell her."

His head tilted slightly "Pardon?"

A smile carved itself onto your face as you spoke, "That you have feelings for her. Tell her. It'll be good for you I promise." You didn't normally have to remind yourself to breathe but in this moment, muscle memory was not your friend. "It'll be good to have someone else invading your free time instead of just me."

Garroth shifted back slightly at those words, the invisible hand crushing your heart practically begged for him to step forward and say no, that he only wanted you...but he didn't do that. Instead, he thought for a moment before uttering his response in the smallest voice you'd ever heard "..You think it'll be good for me?"

No. "Yes, I do"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It broke your heart a bit when he went back to the village. Yes, you'd told him to, told him to go plan something for her since you'd scoured every leaf in the surrounding woods already, that you'd be fine alone, you just wanted to walk around some more. But you didn't expect him to actually go, you took this opportune moment alone to sink down the base of a nearby tree and cry your eyes out; and here you are. Alone on the forest floor. The moon and trees as your only comfort, miles away from the village. At least no one could hear the painful sobs and pitiful sniffs from way out here.

A sharp crack ripped you out of your slump. Quickly drawing your sword and jumping to a standing position, you silently began to check your surroundings. Was it an animal? No, it couldn't be. There's nothing in these woods big enough to make that sound, it was deliberate. Whatever is hidden in the darkness wants you to find it.

"I know your there. Show yourself. Now." You were impressed with how steady you'd sounded.

"Someone's awfully demanding."

The voice came from above you, in the trees, but you couldn't see a thing. "I said show yourself!"

"Nah"

The voice was behind a tree now...was this person moving!? How were they this fast? "What do you mean 'Nah'? Get out here before I find you myself!"

A chuckle sounded that sent chills up your spine. "Do you threaten all your new friends with a sword?"

"Friend!?" Your grip tightened, "I don't know you!"

"Maybe you would if you weren't ready to kill me. Not that you could even if you tried, but it's nice to feel welcome." The tone was sickeningly sweet but arrogant and threatening all the same. Who was this person and what did they want...

The voice continued, closer now but remaining out of sight. "Sorry your friend is such a loser, I really thought he was going to stay there at the end. I mean come on; anyone could see how broken you felt." Was this disembodied voice mocking you?

"I am NOT broken."

"I said 'felt', I didn't say that you were. Is that really what you're choosing to focus on right now?" The humor was evident, and you were having none of it.

"You'd think I'd focus on someone's actions that are out of my control rather than an attack on my character?" You tilted your head, hoping to catch the slightest hint of where this person was.

"Ok. Ok whatever. Geez, I just assumed that you'd want to talk about it since you were so clearly upset he was going after another girl." The voice was behind you now. You whipped around to no avail. Trees, it was just trees. This was quickly becoming less horrifying and more annoying.

"Listen here! I don't know what you think-" The silence was deafening, realization hitting you like an arrow to the chest. "How...wait you were watching us?!"

"I've been in the area. That's all."

The nonchalant act was starting to piss you off more than before. This is getting way out of hand, and you don't have forever to just stand here and be toyed with. "Who are you, and what do you want. I need answers or else."

Silence. If this prick was seriously ignoring you right now- "My name is Gene."

Gene

Where had you heard that name before? "And what do you want?"

"I just want to talk."

What in the world is going on right now? Should you trust this thing? It may not even be human. Even if it is human, it could still be trying to hurt you. Yea, the human option definitely feels worse. But also... maybe it was just trying to talk. Maybe it was just as angry and alone as you were. Was it some monster? Maybe. But you haven't felt this empty and alone before, and who could understand that feeling better than a monster.

You slowly lowered your sword. "Fine. We'll talk. But if you refuse to come out, you're going to stay in one spot so I can know exactly where you are. I will be keeping my distance. If there is even the slightest hint that you're a threat I will gut you so fast you'll be dead before you can taste your own blood."

"Yes ma'am." The words that almost sounded more like a demented purr were enough to tell you two things. 1: whoever 'Gene' is he's now hiding behind the tree that's directly in front of you. 2: He was definitely toying with you.

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A/N: Thank you guys for reading and thank you so much for your patience with my insane lack of an updating schedule! I plan to upload more chapters this week, so fingers crossed!

Also, I plan to write a Blaze x reader one shot, and a Gene x reader one shot here pretty soon so lmk if you guys have any ideas for that! (No promises, but I always love healthy feedback!)

[lonely-north-star]

jewelry maker mammon x retail worker mc pt 3

hey guys. I'm back. As always this is me being silly and projecting my work experiences onto my own MC (and Mammon) for giggles. Please enjoy!

Part one below:

-As soon as Mammon learns about the sale on Sunday, he's mentally making a list of everything he wants to buy

-He asked MC if he could hide 'just a couple things, eh? Won't hurt nobody.' and she said no

-He looked so dejected but she said if her order fulfillment percentage got messed up, she'd have his head

-He realizes in that moment he's never seen her angry, but the look she gave him was murderous

-Friday comes around and he's already itching to buy the beads

-MC tells him to make sure he pays any bills off first before spending his money

"Weren't ya texting me saying ya bought some plushie online last night?"

"... Okay listen here you-"

-Sunday rolls around and Mammon is so restless

-Three hours into his shift, and MC has run out of things for him to do. Repacks and freight were finished yesterday. He's already straightened out every problem aisle.

-He's currently going through and pulling everything forward on aisles but he's already made it through the entire left side of the store and almost all of the middle

-This store has 123 numbered aisles for reference. Plus everything along the walls

-Meanwhile MC is running around doing orders and cursing corporate for making the coupon online only

-But at least she doesn't have to worry about returns or recovery.

-Every single time she goes up to the front to check the return cart, panicking because there's so many orders that she can barely keep up so surely there must be lots of returns, she finds that it's empty. She stares at it, switching between her cashier and the empty cart

"Mammon beat you to them. I think he's going just as crazy as you."

"... Has there been a lot of returns?"

"Yeah. But I swear he has some sixth sense. Because I'll put something in there, turn around to help a customer, and turn back and he's already walking away and the cart is empty! What the hell, man? He's just as bad as you."

-She stares at the cart for a moment longer, feeling slightly less stressed because that's one less thing to worry about.

-She is too stubborn to ask for help half the time, and will definitely overwork herself if needed. But seeing and hearing this, she's like "okay... maybe... maybe everything WILL be okay."

-She goes back to doing online orders, very rarely having to pick anything up

-Almost rams a cart into Mammon from how fast she's walking when he comes out of an aisle

"GAH- OI, STOP WALKING SO QUICK, DAMN IT!"

"Oh fu- Sorry, sorry I- Pfft"

-She starts giggling, wheezing even, because that could've ended terribly had it been a customer. She's crouched on the ground, holding the cart handle

-Mammon is slightly concerned, and he's trying so hard to scowl, and failing miserably

"It ain't even that funny. I could've died, y'know?"

"wheeze"

"Stop laughin'! I'm trying to be mad at ya! Ugh...Damn it, ya look cute when you're laughing like that.."

"Okay, okay, I-I'm good- *holding back laughs* What did you say?"

"NOTHIN'! GO PACK YOUR ORDERS OR WHATEVER!"

-MC is confused why he ran off so quickly. But she finally calms down, making an effort to walk slower (it doesn't last long)

-One hour left and Mammon has finished the entire store

-He finds it weird he hasn't seen the other manager walking around but hasn't questioned it yet, he's just counting down the minutes now

-When it's almost time for them to leave, MC finds him in the bead aisle, a few already in his cart. She finally finished all the orders that came in before cutoff time.

"Done with your orders?"

"Yeah. Finally. I never want to see another storage bin in my freaking life."

"Heh. Don't leave this aisle then, because there's a display right behind ya."

"Horrifying... How many are you planning on buying?"

"Dunno. I gotta pay for the one's that cost the most right? All the metal and glass one's are expensive."

"You know our discount works on top of the sale, right?"

-Mammon slow turns and stares at her like she hung the stars. Apparently, he did not know. But to be fair, this was his first check.

"Please do not buy out the entire stock."

"sucks in a breath"

"Mammon please."

"... You're no fun, ya know that? Fine. If you're gonna be like that, help me choose some as payment."

-Halfway through they did go and clock out, because they were not about to be bothered by customers while browsing

-Most of the things MC chooses are blue, with the occasional pink or red slipped in there. And any star beads she came across

-Mammon has a big handful by the end. He choose basic colored glass beads, going for the one's with multiple strands mainly

-He also snagged some that looked like pearls, and a few 'semi-precious' one's. He got some inquiries about doing bracelets that matched people's eyes

-And if he asked MC to look at him and compared some beads to her eyes? No he didn't <3

-By the end, he's got maybe 18 different beads, MC even has to help carry some. She's nervous about the price

"Are you sure you wanna get all these?"

"Don't worry about it. I know I'll use 'em all. And it's a hella good sale."

-They're both watching it ring up and it's not until he gets his employee discount that he's in awe

-It comes out to like $40 and he's skeptical everything was actually rung up because no way it was that cheap for all that

-He's genuinely so excited, he can't stop smiling

-After wards he walks outside with MC, who's calling her ride, and is confused when she sits down

"What are ya doing sittin' there for?"

"I have to wait for my ride. They're still at home so... I don't know when they'll be here. Soon, hopefully?"

-This is how he learns she doesn't know how to drive and takes the bus to work

-Only thinks for half a second before he's pestering her to come with him and that he'll give her a ride

"Mammon, it's fine, I can wait. I don't have cash for gas money either."

"Did I ask for gas money? Nah, I said 'come on, I'll give ya a ride'. Now, c'mon. Let's go."

-She brings him his favorite drink and a pastry from across the street next time she sees him as thanks because he refused any promises to pay him back

-They rarely get off at the same time, so when they do, he now gives her rides. Sometimes they even stop to eat, at which she insists on paying

-Mammon usually gets open or mid shifts after all

-There is one time where he agrees to cover someone's closing shift, and he's kinda nervous. Because he's only closed one time, and that was in the beginning with MC during his training days

-But he's not closing with MC this time. He's closing with the other manager.

-He remembers that one time going smoothly enough, and he cleans and straightens out the front as he usually does

-He's getting increasingly restless the closer it is to closing and the returns haven't been touched all day. He's only occasionally seen the manager downstairs to put away an order

-He's already swept and grabbed trash, but the bathrooms haven't been touched as far as he knows?

-He goes to sweep the store, thinking it'll get done in a second

-How very wrong he was. They closed an hour ago, they were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, and Lucifer is texting to ask where he's at because he should've been home by now

-Stops doing returns and text rants to Lucifer he's being held back and that they still aren't done cleaning, the store is a mess

-Sends a myriad of angry emojis to MC as well

"😡😡🤬💢💢 NEVER CLOSING WITH THIS DUMBASS AGAIN"

"YOU'RE CLOSING?? Since when?? With who??

"NEVER AGAIN AFTER THIS"

-The next morning he gets thanked by the store manager for covering the shift, but Mammon tells him he's never doing that again if it's the other manager closing

-Says he will quit on the spot if it comes down to it

-And Mammon has not closed with him since. But he does do his best to finish any and all returns or straighten as much as he can if he's the mid cashier when that manager is closing

-----

-If only to hopefully make it easier on the closing cashier

hello I hope part 3 made people laugh - Not sure if I'll do a part 4? Or if anyone wants it. I've got like... Two ideas for it. This became way longer than I ever intended it to lmao

real and true, all my cashiers WILL ask who's the closing manager when we ask if they can come in after someone calls out. A lot of them rely on rides too, so staying late is bad 😭 we all just wanna go home

also the cart thing may or may not have actually happened. It was a long day. My panic response is giggling apparently. No team members were hurt 🤓

[earthtoharlow]

YOUINSTA

liked by jackharlow, bellahadid, SZA, mileycyrus, dojacat, urbanwyatt and 698,356 others

yourinsta: I love having a photographer boyfriend

view all 7567 comments

user: a photographer WHAT?!!!

user: just fell to my knees

jackharlow: purr slay werk it 💅

user: this dress tho??? 😭

user: they don’t deserve you

urbanwyatt: 💦 🐟

user: goals

URBANWYATT

liked by yourinsta, jackharlow, cozane, champagnepapi, druski, lilnasx and 567,896 others

urbanwyatt: The garden still private ⛲️

view all 4,784 comments

user: ⛲️⛲️

druski: why did y/n get a custom coat and not me???

yourinsta: they like me better than you 💋

urbanwyatt: well… 😬

druski: I’ll remember this

user: I love that y/n has the fur on the hood!

user: we don’t even get content from y/n and we have to rely on this guy to post photos of her 😭

user: also how does she know these people

user: you know celebrities be friends with everyone

user: anyone here from that y/n is dating someone in PG thread 🫣🤣

YOURINSTA

Liked by urbanwyatt, jackharlow, djdrama, normani, gigihadid, justinbieber, joejonas and 789,346 others

yourinsta: I just hope both teams have fun

view all 5698 comments

user: baby’s first football game

user: GO! SPORTS

jackharlow: 🤦🏻‍♂️ you started cheering for the wrong team

yourinsta: not my fault they had the hotter players

urbanwyatt: no only Chelsea FC can have fun 🙄

yourinsta: damn y’all sport fans strict asf

gigihadid: you look beautiful 😍

user: loving this random friendship, it’s camp

user: maybe that thread is right, I’m starting to connect the dots ☠️

YNSOURCE

liked by 5278 users

ynsource: Y/N recent IG stories. Everyone wish Y/N good luck!

view all 424 comments

user: she’s gonna make that runway her bitch

user: Urby 🤗

user: good luck y/n! Urban is such a good friend!

user: she should date him tbh, no one seems to care for her more 🤷🏽‍♀️

URBANWYATT

liked by jackharlow, neelamthadhani, nemoachida, yungskylark, yourinsta and 845,085 others

urbanwyatt: I’m so happy this woman came into my life. She deserves to know that, although I have already told her plenty of times. Never have i met someone so caring and selfless. Happy birthday to my treacherous twin 🤞🤸

view all 9356 comments

user: aaaah this is so sweet

user: favorite besties!!!

yungskylark: happy birthday to the homie! yourinsta🫡

user: this picture kinda intimate but we thank you for blessing us with this photo 🫶

user: just fuck already!!

youinsta: urban, I adore you 🥹

user: do we need to leave you two alone?

jackharlow: everyone say thank you Jack for all of us becoming friends

yourinsta: no 🙄

URBANWYATT

liked by yourinsta, druski, saweetie, selenosunni, cozane, jackharlow and 957,026 others

urbanwyatt: you caught us, you caught us red handed

view all 10,578 comments

user: 😭😭😭

user: not a twitter thread exposing them

user: yall were not good at hiding

yourinsta: world worst kept secret

jackharlow: i'm just glad they stopped thinking it was me

yourinsta: you weren't even suspect number one... jackharlow: well I could've been!

cozane: ugh fucking finally

user: ADORABLE

user: I'm so happy for them 😭

user: everyone make sure to say thank you harlowsthot on twitter 😂

————————————————————

fc was requested by anon whose message I accidently deleted, ily 🫶

tag list

(message me if you’d like to be added)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @toocriticalharlow @babiefries @macey234 @jackmans-poison @itsyagirljaz

[snorkling-in-sodasea]

The Gay Guys and the Little Girls Hypocrisy

Yeah, I might as well make this its own little post than adding to the last one. Like many others said, though, it just seemed hypocritical that Blitz doesn't want to carry out a hit just because it affects him personally. It's not even in a fun way or understandable one, like 'it's Hell so of course there's douchebags with selective morals, especially when something personally affects them'

Seriously, there's a whole fucking list of times I was thinking during that scene:

The most common example is the very first episode, when Blitz was happy about the idea of ruining a family. Everyone has brought up how the double standards is that 'if's it straight - or at least a man and a woman - then cheating is horrible. If it's gay - particularly gay guys - then cheating is fine'. Well, would that still be true if Martha and Ralphie painfully resembled Blitz's desires and Stockholm syndrome-formed love towards Stolas? Because I'm thinking that's the bigger factor here

no one gave a fuck about all those spring breakers who got slaughtered just for a parking spot

no one especially gave a fuck about all those people in the opera house. And it's arguably worse because they weren't even targets that episode like the spring breakers. Yet I.M.P. didn't even think those unnecessary corpses were worthy of being noted, including Moxxie (sure, he may have gotten past it in Murder Family but a side glance and a moment of being conflicted would have been nice. If not exactly that, then some sort of fucking notice on Moxxie's part at least)

I guess there's the lumberjacks at the start of Ozzie's. For all we know, they could have had precious, little daughters like the gay dads in Sinsmas, or even loving wives/husbands that they could've wanted to have kids with

I'm actually not sure to include Jimmy from Unhappy Campers but I guess I will just in case. Because on one hand, he did intentionally kill someone, even if it was to help Barbie. On the other, though, he's only 18 or 19 years old. Just like the lumberjacks, for all we know, he could have had a loving mom and/or dad who'll be devastated over his death. It'll feel like too soon for them and it's the one thing that any good parent doesn't want, to outlive their kid. There is the fact that Barbie needed Jimmy to make a living, though, and Blitz never called it off. He decided that his business was more important than Barbie's livelihood

I actually forgot about this one when I was making this list but there was that freaking massacre at the beginning of Full Moon. Seriously, a pile of guts spilled from the bodies, entrails hung up decoratively, and all that. The worst part was that there was a person right in the middle of that, maybe even a kid if I remember right. It's probably worse for that person if they weren't a target and that's why they're still alive. Blitz never gave a fuck about this person's mental health when he and his team just did all that gory shit. Blitz never gave a fuck about the horn of plenty's worth of mental scars when that happened

Let's not forget the shorts! Emberlynn, a freaking college girl who has a hit on her over a fucking shipping war. Blitz may have thought of it as excessive but he still decided that the money was more important than the fact the target is a young college girl

The one with the chupacabra. The guy who died, he clearly had a wife who was in waterfall tears over his corpse, even holding him close

Then there's the kid in the freaking pilot. The mother was definitely devastated over having lost her son, just imagine how much worse she'll be when she recognizes the corpse in her arms as her son.

And going back to 5, Blitz looks even worse to me thanks to the scene with him sparing the gay dads in Sinsmas. Because he felt more emotion at a couple of strangers who strongly resemble his personal issues and desires with having a happy, little family with Stolas, Octavia, and Loona than he did about whether or not his own twin sister had a job to support herself with. Blitz has some fucking gall to talk about missing his sister who he was super close to when he, like I said, ultimately chose to let a hit get carried out even if it meant screwing over his sister's livelihood (Also, what fucking bull it is, Blitz saying that he and Barbie were as close as he claims when there has been at least three fucking flashbacks between Blitz and Fizzarolli when there hasn't even been one between Blitz and Barbie. If anything, if it wasn't for the love letter in Oops, I would sooner believe that Fizz is Blitz's true sibling)

[usmsgutterson]

I think I might have fallen in love- realization fics! Fics with this prompt can be the realization of anything--a characters imminent death, the moment wherein someone realizes they've been betrayed, or they can be super fluffy and detail the moment a character realizes they're in love, the moment where they realize they can see a future with the reader--perhaps one that entails settling down or one that involves leaving the past behind--, the moment where they realize that they want to marry them! Anything goes with this prompt, and I'll write 1-5k words using it!

OKAY- what about nikolai x reader. and it's where he realizes he wants to marry her. maybe r thinks of a solution to some matter of state and he watches in awe how she handles the questions and gets the other's attention. and he's just like "yep. i'm gonna make her my bride" or something like that :)

Motion- N.L x fem! reader

okay, hi! This came out a bit later than I meant for it to--I decided a few weeks ago to plan out a duology to try to complete during NaNoWriMo and that took up a lot of my headspace, where trying to make sure my mental health was on track and I was breathing in something other than stale apartment air took up the rest of it. However, I am so sorry for how late this is coming out regardless!

On another note, my requests close next friday! They close at 11:30 pm AST (which is around 7:30 PST) and hopefully, what remains of my requests will be done by that point. Fall event requests are open until the second and my holiday event will come out sometime between the 24th of November and the 1st of December.

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

You and Nikolai were sitting in a meeting, debating with the Grisha triumvirate and several other relevant court members who sat in on Ravkas ever growing list of issues. You'd thrummed your way from matters of inter-palace discontent through matters of civilian discontent and you were up to matters of state.

Nikolai was getting bored watching everyone bicker, each of them trying to stop one another from getting a word in, but you looked as though you'd just gotten started. Nikolai could've sworn you were smirking slightly as you watched Zoya snap at a general, ready to throw a gust of wind at him--one so powerful that it knocked him through the meeting room wall--and barely managing to restrain herself. You looked as though, despite the fact that you weren't Grisha, you were ready to do the same thing.

Genya looked ready to tailor someone into a very ugly version of themself and David simply looked as though he wanted to go back to his work, like he was mad at the fact of his obligations as a member of the triumvirate for pulling him away from it.

"And before you start, Novikov," you started. Nikolai turned his attention to you, smile on his face. "Let me talk my way through this, yeah? You start talking and you might find yourself unable to fill your britches because you simply don't know enough. It's not a matter of the people--it's a matter of the funds we're able to allocate to the cities. If we can allocate enough to cities both big and small then we're setting ourselves up for an economic boom that starts at the big cities, moves to the small ones. It moves to the towns, and from the towns it moves back to us."

"How do you expect Ravka of all places to be able to do such a thing?" Novikov asks, bushy eyebrows furrowed at your suggestion.

"We can get tourists in," you said. "Ravka is broke--that is absolutely not a surprise to anyone in this room. However, to appeal to those who can only afford to take one vacation a year we advertise the cities. The ones with good-quality but still cheap hotels, honest working parents and saintstales as old as the country itself."

"And what of the rich folks?" David asked. "I mean--we can't advertise Ravka for tourism without aiming somewhere that will actually make a difference one trip on, can we?"

"Palace tours," you said. "The Grand Palace--we can make it a tourist spot Friday through Monday, twelve hours, with options for individual touring, group touring, or guided versions of the same. I'll be a bloody guide if I need to, but I know that there are people somewhere who are passionate about Ravkas history to be willing to volunteer their time."

'And how long is this going to take to pay off our debts?" Novikov asked. "I mean--nobody will go for it if it takes us longer than a decade."

"If it takes us longer than a decade, the youngest of us in the room have a chance at seeing it in the last year or two before we hit forty," Genya said. "Nikolai is twenty-four at the current, which means it would take sixteen years if it were to be such a strenuous plan."

"It's not," You said. "Tours of the palace will take two hours going at a slow pace if my walks of the Grand Palace are to have proved anything. If we get six volunteers, then that's one to cover every tour everyday. Ticket prices can be set at 20 coin for a general admission, 10 for children and fifteen for seniors. Max the group allowance at groups of ten and that ranges from 100-200 coin just off the gate. Take that and multiply it by six, and we have 600-1200 coin going back into the coffers of those to whom Ravka is indebted. It'll be volunteer based because the saints know we cannot afford to pay the guides but I would do a twelve hour workday just to prove that my idea is the right move."

"And what benefits could we offer in place of wages?"

"A hot meal when shifts are done, a room at the Little Palace and food by an irrefutable line of direction. We could also put them on palace staffing lists officially so they'd at least be making the minimum wage, but I think that such would constitute as fraudulent somewhere."

Nikolai was deep in thought when you brought up that last point, but with one squeeze from your hand he was back to reality.

"If they would be willing to take a room in the Little Palace for the duration of time during which tours take place, then it wouldn't violate any laws--they'd be working within the palaces, allowing their placement onto the palace staff."

"What is your estimate on how long it would take?" Novikov asked. "On how long the combination of marketing the cities and the palace tours would take to pay off our debts and refill the war treasury?"

Nikolai had been looking at you how he always did--like you were the love of his life. As he watched you answer what both of you had hoped tto be Novikovs last question, he came to a realization.

"A minimum of five years," you said. "And that is with the tours going all year round. If we could have the tours going daily it would probably still be the same such estimate--we're more than one million kruge in debt with Kerch, double that with Novyi Zem, Novikov. The process for clearing Ravka of it's debts is not something that will be instantaneous unless you're willing to sell your home and give the funds to the cause? According to reports I've seen, your home could have us reasonably jumped forward if you sell it for it's maximum monetary value?"

Nikolai could see it right in front of him--two years from then, a ceremony. Watching you walk down the isle, a coronation where you were crowned as queen. A life as your husband, a life with you as his wife.

He glanced at the ring finger on his left hand--it was looking awfully bare, but if you said yes when Nikolai proposed, which he decided he would do right then, it would not look bare for the rest of his life.

"All in favor?" Nikolai asks, giving your hand a squeeze as the thought solidifies itself fully in his mind.

I am going to make her my bride.

Everyone, including a rather embarrassed Novikov, said "I" and you grinned victoriously.

Your plan was barely in motion, but it was starting to gain traction still. As Nikolai pressed a kiss to your cheekbone and the two of you moved to leave the meeting room, the same could be said of his.

[devotekuna]

User is a cursed womb painting, has blood manipulation and geto is in the midst of becoming a villain (before he burns the village down but after he meets Yuki)

Suguru had been assigned to exorcisea special grade curse user, an stolen death painting and extract the cursed object from them, which had been terrorising a secluded village in the mountains, most people ended up dead due to the cursed spirits outside which you had released with someone's help.

Sat on the floor waiting for your demise to come, already accepting your fate when you were given the prison realm and heard that Jujutsu sorcerers were coming for it. Most people would call it stupid, they weren't wrong, but you couldn't be bothered to waste your energy to fight, especially as you didn't even know how to use your cursed technique properly as you had just been in a glass jar since the Meiji era, then put into some dying person's body.

The footsteps which were differentiated from the panicked and terrified ones from the soon to be dead village occupants. More like a calm and relaxed pace, most likely a Jujutsu sorcerer, maybe a grade 1 at minimum, though there wouldn't be much of an option, either a special grade if they were available. The owner of the footsteps would most likely be the reason for your death. As the small cursed spirits eliminated the pathway for the person, sandals first coming to your eyes, then some baggy pants, hiding his figure perfectly, so you wouldn't know where to hit his legs.

A Jujutsu high uniform.

It was clear that it was, the exact embroidery of the uniform, same colour and logo on the chest.

"What do we have here?" His voice as calming as the waters you wished to visit, it could soothe anyone. You could've been mistaken for a non sorcerer if it wasn't for the immense cursed energy protruding from your abdomen. Eyes following the figure as your hollow eyes met with his matching ones, maybe 18 at most, it was clear he didn't want to be here from his drained expression.

"A cursed user.." he grumbles under his breath, clearly ready to fight it out at any sudden move, but he hoped that he wouldn't need to put up a big fight to excorisce you, despite every cursed womb painting being a special grade with an intuition to live long.

"Y/N Oso" staring directly into his eyes, sensing that he was a special grade, maybe the same level as you, but nobody would know till one of you left this world.

"Suguru Geto, but I'm not big on introductions" Already bracing from an attack from you, despite your exhausted appearance. "So let's get this over with." He implied that you two should fight right now, not daring to take the first move as he needed to know what he was up against and what spirit would be the best for you.

It was tiresome to exorcise then absorb a cursed spirit, just wanting to throw up from the taste, but judging by the village going an eery silence, either everyone was dead or his cursed spirits had killed the other cursed spirits. Maybe even both if you were unfortunate enough, as there had been over 35 different grades roaming the area.

"I'm not in the mood, you can end me right here, no fight or nothing"" you knew that your brothers wouldn't appreciate loosing their sibling, let alone the one with the most potential, but having to fight a guy with cursed manipulation wasn't on your list. Already being injured from a stupid villager attacking you, despite having blood manipulation, you had stopped healing as it takes too much energy plus you didn't know how to reverse the effects.

"A cursed user not looking for a fight?" Cocking his head to the side as he pondered, it sure would be a first but he couldn't be disappointed since it was an effort to excorisce a special grade. "That's a first, normally there itching for a fight" he informs you, still on his guard but he relays his muscles as he stands up straight, hands still not in his pockets incase it's a trap. But it was probably true judging by how messed up your physical body looked.

"I know" the words came out of your mouth in a hushed tone, you wanted to sleep for a really long time, like becoming fetus again but never needing to incaerate someone else. "But if your looking for the cursed object it's gone.." most of that lie was true, but the other half was a lie as your stomach gave a clear picture of where it was, from the immense cursed energy.

"I'm not stupid." Clearly offending him as he put his hands in his pockets, leaning on the wall beside him. Sighing in defeat, you gaged up a small box which would kill anyone else if their stomach acid touched the object, it was empty, but if cursed objects had emotions or senses, it was clear that it was frightened or in distress from how quick it's eyes were moving.

"You gonna excorisce me now?" You ask, not daring to bat an eye at him as you twirl the bube around in your hands, eyes for the numbers of dogs in a dice, red to supymbolise it being empty. You tried to hide a smile but it was so hard in that monotone voice if yours.

Nods coming from his direction, not even needing to say a word as you sighed. How easy this was, too easy.. why would a cursed user willingly give up a cursed object of this importance, it was bound to be a trap. Taking the cursed cube from your hands, weights transferring to his hands despite it being empty.

"Yep" inspecting the prison realm to make sure it wasn't a fake despite the cursed energy being there, he could lock you in at any moment he wanted, even himself if he wanted to. "Or.." he mumbled as his back faced you, he didn't want to excorisce someone who looked like they were in so much pain, having a small bit of humanity left for the cursed user despite all the screams from the now dead villagers.

His word had caught your ears as you looked at him, maybe he was plotting to trick you right now?.

"Or I could let you stay here, and say that I've killed you in return for this being so easy?"

[5eraphim]

may i please have something with spy and his s/o who has stockholm syndrome and has been broken down enough that they feel the need to always be touching him? treating him as a king! constantly kissing any spot on him, wanting to leave marks on spy so people know hes claimed, nonstop praising him and stroking his ego, maybe s/o wants to scent mark him ♡ thank you!!

I love you so much right now. I am sending a psychic beam of pure love and kisses directly into your skull. This is just,,, exactly the kind of request I've been waiting for (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ I'm not 100% sure if you wanted a oneshot or headcanons, but for purely selfish reasons, I'm answering with a oneshot <3 hope you enjoy!

Summary: Cuddling with Spy at night, and feeling a perfect kind of bliss from the knowledge you two are exactly where you're meant to be.

Character: Spy 🐍 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M (MINORS DNI)

Content Warnings: yandere, mind break, Stockholm Syndrome, servant/master dynamics, denial/edging, sexual massage, possessive behavior

Word Count: 2.8k

TIP JAR

MASTER LIST

(Song Inspo: Chapel, Nicole Dollanganger)

"I was reading my destiny inside your eyes without knowing it." Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

LAST EDITED- 4/18/2023

Earlier that day, you welcomed your beloved home. Unfortunately, much later than usual, apparently preoccupied with some kind of inescapable work issue. By the time he returned home, the full moon had illuminated the inky-black sky, and a pleasant evening chill settled motionless all around, ending the sun's humid, suffocating summer heat for the day. Crickets chirped in the long grass surrounding the small cabin you and your lover shared, surrounded by the forest and far away from any prying eyes. When you heard the screen door creak open, Spy entered, quietly locking the door behind him, stepping out of his dress shoes and neatly tucking them beside it. Greeting him with a kiss and helping him to slip out of his work clothes, you welcomed him home. Taking note to be extra soft and loving, seeing how thoroughly exhausted he appeared.

Sharing a cup of tea together was a long-standing ritual between the two of you. It was your job to brew and serve the tea while Spy waited patiently. You remembered how pleased Spy looked the first time you managed to prepare the tea exactly to suit his tastes. And how proud you felt, knowing you were likely one of the only people he trusted enough to accept food from. Spy liked to sip his drink while unwinding from his long day, while you would sit and keep him company. Sometimes with chatter, other times quiet and content enough to enjoy a little time together.

Tonight Spy requested you to draw him a bath during the late-night chat, a task you accepted most graciously. He was always so generous to share the tub with you, so long as you would help wash. Or, as he liked to say, "Earn your spot beside him."

While you didn't remember much of life before you met Spy, you did recall the first time he offered to share the bath with you. Long past when he first brought you here to live, and by that point, your resilience began to break down, and it was harder and harder to ignore how badly you wanted to give in and accept his affections. You weren't trying to escape or harm him anymore, no longer because of threat or punishment, but rather an unexplainable yearning for Spy. It wasn't love, not yet, but a means to quell the discontentment you couldn't shake apart from Spy; he completed you.

Your body settled between his long legs, your back to his chest. This was the first time you saw him naked, and it felt bizarrely enticing when he told you how he wanted to see you the same way. The water felt so warm, and you could've melted right there as he used his bare hands to glide soap and suds over your wet skin, covering your body with bubbles and warm water. And for the first time, you didn't shy away from his touch when his fingertips skimmed your thighs and lingered so lightly at your chest, his fingers growing bolder. You allowed your head to lull back and lean against Spy's body, your eyes fluttering shut. Moaning breathily under his touch. Spy hummed as he continued to work, caressing every inch of your body, comforted by the feeling of your body completely relaxed against his. For the first time, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. And by God, did it feel good.

It all felt so long ago, though living in isolation made keeping up with time impossible. But you remember how nice it was to let yourself give in and begin to accept Spy's charms and sensuality. For a while, you tried to remain resilient and faithful to yourself, to only embrace him when sharing a bath, but once Spy caused this fracture in your defenses, he knew it was only a matter of time before you folded. No much longer did you bother lying to yourself. Pretending you didn't love the feeling of hot water washing over you, Spy's touch getting bolder when he could tell you were no longer trying to push him away. He told you how proud he was to see you at ease like this, how he knew you'd be much more comfortable after you'd removed your layers of clothing and gave him a chance. How now it made sense why you were always so high-strung and wound up under all those clothes, you were far better off living this. His voice and hands were hypnotic, pulling you deeper and deeper into this new peaceful state of mind. You didn't even protest when he pulled you into his bed that night.

Tonight went quite similar. By now, you were far more used to taking Spy's orders and were responsible for stripping down yourself and helping undress him, folding the clothes neatly on the countertop before you were allowed to enter the bath. He referred you to lay between his legs, being so kind to help wash you before himself, knowing this was your favorite spot. The motions are familiar but in a comforting way. The feeling of a trusted routine to help unwind at the end of such a taxing day.

Neither of you dressed after the bath, deciding to dry off and hop into bed. All the lights were off, but you could still see around the bedroom clearly enough with the moon's light shining into the bedroom. You tried to fall asleep, but feeling restless, you couldn't quite find sleep. Instead, your mind wandered to the sensation of your beloved Spy curled beside you in bed. Spy always looked so beautiful when he was asleep, his face relaxed, breathing so gentle, he looked like a living marble Adonis. Nothing less than perfection in your eyes. He slept on his back while you were curled up on your side facing him, head resting on his chest.

You nuzzled your head into his chest, snuggling a little closer. The feeling of Spy's hand gently stroking your head gave you a small jolt of surprise, as you thought Spy was already asleep. "You're awake?"

His eyes were still shut when he answered. "You've been fidgeting beside me all night. No one could sleep through that." You bit your lip nervously, feeling a light stab of guilt for this. "I'm so sorry about that. I didn't even realize."

Spy leaned down to kiss your head, " You're alright, but I wonder, were you trying to get my attention? Is there something you want from me now that it's so late at night?"

You flushed a little, "No, it was an accident! I'm just- I mean, I'm sorry I woke you up."

Spy cracked the eye oven looking down on you. "How about a back rub to make up for it, then? You've always been so good at those." You couldn't help but feel bubbly inside from his praise, and with a quiet "yes sir," you climbed up over him. Spy rolling onto his stomach now, arms under the pillow he rested his head on while you straddled his lower back.

As gently as you could, you ran your hands over the skin on his back, initiating the skin-to-skin contact delicately, still unable to shake your initial guilt for waking him up in the first place. His body felt so soft and clean after the bath. His back accumulated tremendous scar tissue over the years, and your heart ached to think about Spy away on his own where you couldn't protect him. The pain was all the worse as you knew, deep down, this was how it had to be. You wished you had some kind of magic touch to heal the scars for good or to take on the wounds yourself. Unfortunately, the best you could do now was run your soothing touch over the blemished area. Though you'd never admit this to him, you always thought Spy's scar tissue was sexy, making his already charming physique even more alluring.

Using steady, well-practiced hands, you began to apply more pressure to the massage, knowing where he usually held tension and where to target to have him moaning and sighing in relief. Starting high, around his shoulder blades, before moving your hands up and down his body, leaving no area untended. Your fingers work hard to draw out his tension and ease his pain. In the low light, you could see Spy relaxing into your touch a little more, and you felt an erotic jolt of excitement as you heard him beginning to let off gentle, breathy moans as you worked.

Your eyes drift shut when you feel his hand against your outer thigh. The light touch against your upper leg was innocent enough, but you were aroused all the same, moaning through clenched teeth, tensing up. You were caught off-guard and felt goosebumps prickling across your arms and legs. But you didn't take this as your cue to stop. Instead, you began to massage him deeper, moving with more force but remaining as slow and sensual as possible. Thumbs digging into the tissue of his lower back, fingers rubbing little circles, occasionally using your palms and knuckles to grind even harder.

You didn't even realize how far your mind had drifted when you felt his fingernails brushing against your thigh. Then, when you felt his hand stroke higher than expected, you flinched inward, hissing sharply. It wasn't until after you discovered when you curled your hands into tight fists in shock did you realize you accidentally scratched your nails against his skin. Leaving a few puffy scratches over his shoulder blades where your hands were. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry- it was an accident!"

It was impossible to stop your hands from shaking as you pulled them into your chest in shame upon a braising Spy's precious skin. It wasn't much of an abrasion, just a few red stretch marks along his back, the longest of which was about the length of a pinky finger, with a few tiny beads of blood. Still, you felt awful for what you'd done all the same. You were about to climb down and fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom when before you could move, you heard Spy's voice. "Did you draw blood?" He didn't sound mad, rather neutral, actually, but you were wracked with guilt all the same.

"I did; I'm so sorry! Let me get you patched up."

"No, I want you to lick it up."

His words stopped you dead in your tracks. "Is he being serious?" you wondered, and for a moment, you felt frozen in place, unable to decide if he seriously wanted you to do what you were told or if he was being sarcastic. Though this didn't last long, he tilted his head back a little. From his position lying on his stomach on the bed, he could only move so much, but in the low lighting in the room, you could swear you could just barely catch the light of the moon in his eyes.

"Go on, do as you're told, and clean up your mess."

You were genuinely comforted to see he wasn't upset with you, though it didn't entirely absolve you of the guilt of your actions. If this was what he wanted, it was your job to deliver. You planted both hands on the bed as you scooted down to lay above him on your elbows. Now your head was just over the tiny wound, and even up close, you could see the scratch wasn't anything worse than a cat's scratch, and if you were honest, there was a chilling excitement you felt. Something about being ordered to kiss the wound felt so intimate. Your eyes closed as you leaned down closer, your tongue rolling out just enough to swipe up the tiny beads of blood before returning to your mouth. You felt the taste of copper follow the blood into your mouth, lingering for just a second as you swallowed the warm substance. Feeling bolder, you lightly kissed the sensitive area you'd left a scar, but it wasn't enough. You wanted more, to caress his flesh with your lips, kissing your love tenderly to show your reverence. Spy shifted a little under you, rolling from his stomach to his side as you moved to accommodate him.

He hummed softly to himself constantly as you kissed your way from his shoulder blades to the side of his neck. You could feel his pulse below your mouth, all too aware of how he clearly enjoyed feeling your lips against the thin, sensitive flesh. He used a gentle but firm hand to cup the side of your face, guiding your lips to meet his as you sighed into the kiss.

It wasn't long before his tongue was in your mouth, and you were back on top, the two of you moving as one as he rolled to his back, you taking this as an invitation to go back to straddling his torso. The kiss felt so passionate and sensual, and you could not stop yourself from lightly grinding your lower body against his, desperate for any friction between your legs. You moaned into the kiss when you felt his fingertips feeling up the sides of your body. You wanted desperately to move his hands from the sides of your hips to between, but you also didn't want the pleasant shivers his touch brought about to stop. It was impossible to hold yourself back. Spy deepened the kiss, lips sliding against your own as you returned the affection. His touch, gentler than yours, had you feeling so hot, bothered, and almost painfully wet. Your hands worked through his hair, winding it around your fingers, pulling slightly as he teased your body, but just as you were about to start rolling your hips, Spy pulled away, removing his fingers from your body. Spy looked up at your confused expression with a coy grin.

"It's getting late. Why do we settle down for the night?"

"Can't we go a little longer?"

"Maybe tomorrow night."

Your head dropped in disappointment. "Please, just a minute longer, I- God Spy, I'm so wet, I need you so bad it hurts!"

Your pain only amused the man as he chuckled softly, his hand smoothing back your hair, "If you love me, you'll do as you're told." It hurt, but he was right, as usual, and with a half-hearted "yes sir," you peeled away from him, moving to lay on your side facing him. While Spy didn't move from his back, waiting for you to cuddle up closer, no doubt feeling your body trembling with the effort it took to remain still.

"You're being good for me, right? You aren't touching yourself, are you?"

Shaking your head, no, Spy pulled you a little closer to him. Kissing the top of your head while you lay against his lithe body. "Very good. Your hands are only to serve me, not yourself."

This man was a sadist, wrapping himself tightly around you while speaking in that low-breathy murmur that gave you chills, feeling his warm breath fanning your overheated body and skin. It drove you mad in the best way imaginable.

You could swear you felt sweat begin to bead along your back with the effort it took to obey his command. Feeling his warm skin against yours, the softness of the blankets, his natural aroma overwhelming your mind, not to mention the already uncomfortable burning felt between your legs, you wanted so badly to climb back over him and relieve the awful tension, but you wouldn't dare. Spy's approval and praise meant the world to you, and disobeying him to satisfy your carnal desires would be unthinkable. Spy's breathing began to deepen and slow, and you felt his arm around your shoulders starting to slacken as he drifted off to sleep. And you took great comfort in knowing you were about to settle down for the night, sleeping in the embrace of your reason for living.

Perhaps your beloved Spy was no longer a person to you, and your love for him transformed him into something beyond human. Now he was the light of your life, the only one who made you feel alive. As you felt his arms wrapped around your body, his warm body curled up behind you, his body heat warming you and the bed's blankets, the heat making you want to nestle up even closer, to feel every inch of your beloved's perfect body wrapped around yours, as protective of you as you were to him. And with God as your witness, you swore, you would protect him until the day you died.