#or else people wouldn’t still be liking it

[agentpeggycarterrogers]

She could see the wheels in his head turning with every suggestion she made, like messages from Agent X. Peggy reached into her purse and pulled out the empty envelopes and note cards and set them under the table on his knee. A hint. A way for him to create clues if he wanted to.

“You know, if you need to step to the bar and order drinks for us - or that bottle of scotch for Agent X, I can hold down the fort. I’ve never met Agent X - but he seems to be a good judge of character, and a good judge of who’ll work well together.”

Peggy grinned. What should she say? He knew everything about her already. She shook her head. “You probably aren’t allowed. But let me see.” She thought for a moment. “I’m dedicated to my work, I still see the good in people despite seeing the villains of this world. I dress for the occasion - for every occasion,” she said. “I suppose you can see that by my dress for the evening. And I’m looking for the right partner, in every sense of the word.” She winked at him. 

Agent 13, the character, she supposed, would be unattached romantically, or else why would Agent X want to set them up? She would be married to her work, and probably too afraid to get attached to anyone else so she wouldn’t put anyone she loved in danger. Unless, perhaps, she fell for another agent. That, she could do. Especially someone as dashing, noble, heroic, and kind as Agent 49. Especially someone as darling as Steve. 

“What about you, Agent 49?” 

@steven-g-rogers

As soon as Peggy mentioned Agent X contacting them, his mind started racing for how to pull that off.  Unless Peggy was already planning something, which would be quite a coincidence, he didn’t see how it could be possible.  Perhaps he could excuse himself to use the bathroom and go scribble down a note?  But then what would it say?  He hoped he could think of something. 

“I think I might need to buy Agent X a bottle of Scotch to say thank you for putting us together.  I could not envision a more perfect ally,” Steve said. He glanced over the menu and settled on the smoked herring starter and the short ribs as a main course.  He thought he might go with some apple pie for dessert.  He’d had a few apple desserts since being in Holland but he wasn’t tired of it so far.

The waitress came and took their order, and Steve added a bottle of bordeaux for them to share.  “So, Agent 13,” Steve said when they were alone again.  “Am I allowed to know a little about you?” 

@agentpeggycarterrogers

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Just for Practice

Caleb x fem!reader Thank you @erensfeed for the idea and all the help she gave me!! Tysm nunnie! Hope this is a nice surprise for when you wake up <3 warnings: suggestive topics, mature, kissing (of course)

"Kissing? That’s what got you so worked up? Kissing is why you haven’t been eating my braised pork?" Caleb's lilac eyes fix on you like you’re crazy, a hint of something darker lurking beneath as he frowns.

"Ugh, I told you you wouldn’t get it." you groan, flopping onto your bed in frustration and avoiding his gaze, you didn’t want to see Caleb judging you.

Your high school graduation is just a few months away, but so far, every girl in your class won’t stop talking about the people they’ve kissed this year. Some have only had one kiss, others have had plenty, but out of all of them, you’re the only one who hasn’t had a single one yet. It’s not your fault—you’ve just never found yourself even a little bit attracted to anyone at school.

You didn’t even notice your appetite waning, your mind preoccupied with this. With graduation nearing, the last thing you wanted was to feel left out—missing out on bonding with your friends was the last thing you wanted.

“What’s so special about kissing?? It barely means anything.” his face twists into confusion and disgust, as if really trying to grasp why you’re making such a big deal out of this. Caleb silent mouths ‘kissing?’ before shifting his gaze back to you—just in time for you to throw a pillow straight at his face. But the pillow stops mid-air in front of his face, before dropping onto his lap as he leans back against the chair at your study desk.

“All of my friends have already had their first kiss. That’s like the only thing they’re talking about these days.” Your lips push up into a pout as you grab one of the stuffed animals nearest to you and hug it, allowing your head to rest on the plushie.

“And you’re jealous?” You choke on your saliva, coughing and hacking as your wide eyes meet his—one eyebrow raised and eyes heavy with disbelief. Caleb would’ve never guessed that his girl would grow up to be worried over something as minuscule as a kiss, especially a kiss with someone else.

“I’m not jealous! I mean like… It’s not like… Okay, maybe just a little?” your hands flail wildly all over as you try to defend yourself, but to no avail. Feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks, you take a quick glance and see that Caleb's gaze has darkened.

“Do you even know how to kiss?”

“Caleb… That’s a stupid question,” you murmur, already knowing the answer. Caleb knew that too. “Why would I be so worked up if I—”

With his lilac eyes fixed on you, he tilts his head slightly, then leans forward. “Would you like to know how?” His words cut through your sentence, leaving your lips parted in shock as you prop yourself back up, still clutching the plushie to your chest.

“What? What do you mean?” your brain struggles to process his words, unable to fully make sense of them as you frown and watch him get up. Caleb's tall figure towers over yours as he steps closer, leaning casually against the wall, making you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“I can teach you then, Pip-squeak.” His body lowers, closing the gap between you two as your grip on the plushie loosens. You try to back away, only to find your back pressing against the headboard just inches away.

“I… I mean… does this count as my first kiss?” His right hand reaches out, gently caressing your cheek before softly holding your chin, guiding it towards him.

“Hmm. Think of this as practice.” Caleb's grip on your chin is soft and gentle, completely opposite from his hazy, clouded gaze.

“Oh. Oh…kay then-” you draw the ‘o’ out but as soon as the confirmation leaves your mouth, his lips brush softly against yours. With your eyes closed shut and brows furrowed, he slowly moves, capturing your bottom lip between his own with a delicate pull.

Your body sinks further into the mattress, plush pillows pressing against your back. The bed groans under Caleb's weight as he closes the distance between you, one large palm placed on your hips while the other rests on the headboard. You kiss him back, or at least you try to. You move your lips in the same motion of waves as he does, but everything feels so awkward and off.

Feeling quite embarrassed, and out of air, your intended gently nudges on Caleb's tank top quickly turns into desperate grasps before the kiss finally breaks. You felt like you’ve just ran a marathon—body burning up and your lungs out of breath as you pant, trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could while avoiding eye contact. Though it was harder than you thought, because Caleb was now on top of you, his smirk haunting you as your cheeks flush.

“H-hey! Don’t look at me like that. I told you I don’t know how to kiss…” Your voice grows quieter each passing second as it somehow ends up as a tiny squeak. The sound of Caleb's laughter fills your ears as you turn back to him, his knee now finds itself between your legs as his face hovers just above yours.

“You’re overthinking this, Pip-squeak. Just follow what I do.” Though his words are reassuring, that husky tone in his voice throws you off as he quickly captures your lips into a kiss for the second time. Caleb's lips move against yours in a soft, sensual way as you try your best to mimic him. Remembering what he did to you, you trap the soft fullness of his lower lip and gently apply suction to it. His hums of approval catch you off guard as you feel a subtle rumble of his chest—Caleb's hand snaking down to the small of your back, before pulling your body flush against his.

As if a flip has just been switched, Caleb's lips move frantically against yours, biting your lower lips then soothing the sting with his tongue. Your lips part at the sudden pain, allowing his tongue to delve into your mouth. Soft whimpers escape from your throat as Caleb explores you, tracing every corner and leaving an odd-yet-pleasurable feeling as he does so. Surprised, and a little scared, you push his body off of yours as you cover your mouth in shock, the faint apple taste still lingering in your mouth.

“Your tongue… Do you still use that apple flavored toothpaste or something? Because that’s all I’m feeling? Tasting?” Caleb grabs your hands, lowering it as a light chuckle leaves his lips.

“You’re a natural, Pip-squeak.” Completely ignoring what you just said as his thumb caresses your cheek and he stares at your lips, as if capturing them in a kiss with his eyes, “But I think you need a little bit more practice. What do you say?”

“Oh….Um…” Your voice comes out as uncertain mumbles and murmurs while his face only inches closer to yours. That’s when you realize how Caleb's body is pressed against yours, radiating heat—how heat crept up his neck and spreaded to his ears. How his lilac eyes were still clouded with a hazy and clouded look.

“I think you need more practice.” Caleb already had a taste of you and now he can’t get enough. Your scent seeps into his senses, impossible to ignore—like an addict chasing his next fix. He took your first kiss and now he’s going to take your every first. He was going to make sure of it.

A/N: Ughhh, this was quite hard to write considering I’ve never kissed anyone before. BUT. I have read many writings about kissing so I hope that’ll make up for this. Stay delusional ya’lls! (*´∀`*) Dividers by @omi-resources

[markleessodalite]

They Can Hear Us...: n.jm

content: bf!jaemin drags you to an event you don't really want to attend, so you try to devise an escape plan... but he's not one to be fooled.

warnings: fem!reader, lots and lots of kisses, maybe a tiny bit suggestive(?) but mostly just fluff, nothing else to warn about afaik

word count: 0.5k

a/n: i had a mini hoard of drabbles that i was saving to post later, but i've read over them so much to the point where now i hate every single one :/ but n e waiz i got some extra days off work this upcoming week and i'm hoping to do NOTHING but write the whole time :3 (also if you're one of the anons who sent in requests i promise i'm gonna get to those asap!!!)

“Jaemin! Stop. I mean it!” you half-heartedly scold your boyfriend, although your soft tone and light giggles clearly indicate a message that’s opposite to the words leaving your lips.

Jaemin plants another teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hmm, are you sure?” He kisses the tip of your nose, then your cheek, making his way down your jaw and to your exposed shoulder as he laces his fingers with yours. “Seems like you kinda like it, huh? Love this dress, by the way.” His free hand rubs gentle lines along your back, with only just enough restraint to not mess up the delicate fabric of your one-shoulder gown.

You knew he loved this dress, particularly how you look in this dress, which is exactly why you wore it to this gala. You weren’t especially excited to be here, but Jaemin was over the moon eager to take you, show you off to everyone else there, his girlfriend who looks like an absolute princess under ballroom lights with her arm linked in his. Of course, you knew that after about 5 minutes of you in this dress, he wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever charity event is going on around you two– which is how you’ve found yourself hidden in an offshoot hallway, Jaemin cornering you against the wall, planting light and playful (but very obviously needy) kisses anywhere his lips can reach.

Hey, it got you out of sitting at that boring table with those boring people listening to that boring speaker, right? All part of your coy little plan.

The only sound filling your ears now is your own soft giggles against Jaemin’s low chuckles and whispers, with him now developing a game to entertain himself with: trying to find that one particular spot that will drive you crazy.

“Here?” He plants a kiss behind your ear.

“Nope.” You bite down on your lip to stifle any noise that could possibly slip through. You may be vaguely hidden, but you’re definitely still within earshot of the rest of the gala.

“Mmm. Then… here?” He hovers around the middle of your neck before leaving another kiss.

“No…” You can’t help the giggle that slips through your teeth.

“Okay… what about… here?” He leaves a kiss in the nook between the bottom of your neck and your collarbone, before biting down teasingly, drawing a squeal from you before you can catch it.

“Jaemin!” You can’t help but laugh, amused at Jaemin’s quick victory in his own game.

“Shh! Y/n, you know they can hear us…” Jaemin buries his face further in your neck, and you look over him to see the silhouettes of the other guests, turning their attention from the monotone speaker to figure out what direction the hushed giggles are coming from.

Here it is. Exactly the opportunity you need to convince him to go home.

“Then why don’t we go somewhere they can’t hear us, Jaem?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder to look in your eyes, and you know right away he sees through your little escape plan. And he’s not falling for it.

“No. I kinda like this little game. Round two? Let’s see if you can keep quiet, babe.” He smirks proudly at your shocked face before his lips crash into your neck again, and you realize he’ll play this game he’s made up for as long as this gala lasts. Can you handle Jaemin teasing you for several more hours without making a sound?

[jiminomenon]

what if a colleague of karina starts taking interest on assistant! reader 😩😩

good question.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it started out as something harmless.

one of jimin’s colleagues—perhaps a fellow model, someone just as rich and well-connected as she was—took an interest in her assistant. in y/n. maybe it was because of the way she handled jimin’s impossible demands with a straight face, or the way she carried herself, always so composed, so unshaken by the chaos that surrounded jimin’s world. or maybe it was just because they found her attractive.

whatever the reason, it began subtly. lingering glances, offhand compliments, the occasional teasing remark whenever jimin wasn’t around.

“you know, jimin’s lucky to have you,” the model—let’s call him jaemin—said one evening at an industry event. y/n had been standing off to the side, watching over jimin’s things while she mingled with people far above her pay grade.

she glanced at him, slightly wary. “lucky?”

jaemin grinned, charming and effortless. “yeah. you put up with her. do you know how many people would’ve quit after the first month?”

y/n chuckled. “i try not to think about it.”

he tilted his head, studying her with open interest. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you outside of work. do you go to these things often?”

she shook her head. “only when i have to.”

“shame,” he mused. “i think you’d enjoy them more if you weren’t stuck babysitting.”

y/n huffed a laugh, glancing toward jimin, who was deep in conversation with a designer. “i don’t mind.”

jaemin raised a brow, amused. “really? she’s that good of a boss?”

y/n hesitated for a fraction of a second. “she has her moments.”

he smirked. “so that’s a no.”

before y/n could respond, a voice cut in.

“is there a problem?”

jimin.

her tone was neutral, but there was an edge to it—one that made jaemin’s smirk widen slightly, as if he had expected this. y/n straightened, suddenly feeling like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, even though she had done nothing wrong.

“no problem,” jaemin said smoothly. “just getting to know your lovely assistant. you never introduce her to anyone, you know. it’s almost like you’re hiding her.”

jimin’s gaze flickered to y/n, unreadable. “she’s not here to socialize.”

jaemin chuckled. “right, right. just here to follow you around like a shadow.”

“exactly.” jimin’s smile was polite, but there was something sharp behind it. “if you’re done, i need her.”

jaemin held up his hands in surrender. “of course. wouldn’t want to get in your way.” he turned back to y/n, flashing her an easy grin. “see you around, y/n.

y/n gave him a small nod, unsure of what else to do.

as soon as he walked away, jimin grabbed her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull her a step closer.

“don’t talk to him,” she said— well, demanded lowly.

y/n blinked. “what?”

“jaemin,” jimin responded, jaw tight. “don’t talk to him.”

y/n frowned. “why? he was just making conversation.”

jimin scoffed. “he was flirting with you.”

y/n stared at her. “so?”

jimin’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly before she let go, expression unreadable. “just don’t,” she muttered, before turning and walking away.

y/n watched her go, confusion swirling in her chest.

because that almost sounded like jealousy.

the thought was ridiculous. it had to be. jimin didn’t care about things like that. she didn’t care about her like that... right?

yet, jimin’s words echoed in her head. don’t talk to him. her fingers still tingled where jimin had gripped her wrist, and for a moment, she wondered if she should just let it go. maybe jimin was just in a mood again.

but then, jimin suddenly stopped a few feet away. without even turning around, she spoke.

“well?”

y/n blinked. “…well what?”

jimin turned, looking at her expectantly, like she was waiting for something obvious. “are you coming?”

y/n just stared at her. “do i have a choice?”

jimin raised a brow, unimpressed. “stay by my side.”

y/n huffed. “or what?”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “if i lose sight of you, you’re fired.”

y/n let out an exaggerated, dramatic eye roll. “oh, please.”

jimin only tilted her head, waiting.

y/n exhaled through her nose, reluctantly closing the distance between them, falling into step beside her.

jimin, satisfied, didn’t say anything more.

but the way she held herself, a little more at ease now that y/n was back where she belonged, didn’t go unnoticed.

[layaispunk]

Teacher's pet

pairing: Professor!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You fall asleep during Mr. Miller's class.

warnings: age gap (age not specified, but reader is in their 20s and joel is in his 40s), mentions of family conflict & insomnia, pet names, (darlin, sweetheart, honey)

wc: 1k

a/n: obviously ... inspired by the new pedrito content we got today

The low hum of Professor Miller’s voice filled the lecture hall, deep and steady, weaving through equations and theories about quantum superposition. He spoke with the kind of ease that only came from years of experience, his southern drawl giving life to concepts most people would struggle to grasp.

But you weren’t listening.

Your head rested against the cool surface of your desk, arms folded beneath it, as sleep tugged at your exhausted body. You hadn’t meant to drift off, but with the hall's dim lighting, the soft buzzing of electricity and Mr. Miller's voice ... it just happened. You hadn't properly slept in a while. Sleep didn’t come easy at home. It barely came at all.

And now, in the steady rhythm of Joel’s lecture, your body gave in.

You didn’t notice when his voice paused mid-sentence. Didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on you from across the room, brow furrowing. Most students in his class wouldn’t dare slack off - he had a reputation for being strict and demanding. But he knew this was different.

With a sigh, he set down the marker in his hand, rolling his shoulders before speaking again, this time a little softer.

"Alright, we're done for today. Don't forget about the test next week."

Students immediately began shuffling around, packing their thick quantum physics books in their backpacks. The shuffling of footsteps and quiet conversations faded together as everyone walked out the door.

Joel watched as students made their way out, but you haven't moved. While everyone else rushed to leave, you were sat there, with slacked posture, eyes shut on the table.

His jaw tightened. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. You were a good student, but you were struggling trying to keep up with everything lately, and he could tell you were burnt out. He leaned back against the blackboard full of scribbled physics drawings, as he quietly watched you. You were quiet- very smart, very hardworking, always paying attention. One of the few students who actually gave a damn about this class. Maybe that's why he'd taken a liking to you.

Not that he has favorites. But if he did ... well.

Joel took a deep breath and stepped closer, his boots tudding on the floorboards. He paused for a moment before crouching down beside you.

You stirred as he got closer, blinking up at him, eyes heavy, your cheeks crimson. He could see it now—the exhaustion in your slumped shoulders, the way you barely kept your head up.

He leaned in a little, his voice low, almost like a soft command. "Sweetheart, you with me?"

You blinked, your gaze unfocused at first. It took a few moments before your eyes finally cleared, slowly waking from the fog of sleep.

"Hey," Joel said quietly, not wanting to startle you. "You okay to drive home?"

You blinked again, looking up at him, and for a moment, you looked like you hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in days.

"Yeah," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joel raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I know we live pretty close ... I could take you home"

You hesitated, not wanting to accept his offer but not trusting yourself to drive in the state you were in. "Are you sure?"

"Ofcourse."

You nodded. "Okay. Thankyou, Mr. Miller."

Joel stood up, his eyes still locked on you. ‘Alright then. Let’s go.’

You took a deep breath, starting to gather your things, trying to shake off the fog that still clouded your mind. You moved slowly, packing up your notes and slipping them into your bag. Joel just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with somber eyes. He didn’t rush you - he knew better than that.

Finally, you stood up, your bag slung over your shoulder, as he gave you small nod, leading the way out of the classroom.

As you both stepped into the hallway, the silence between you felt heavy. Finally, Joel spoke, his voice low, barely above a whisper, "things bad at home again?"

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question sink into you, but you shook your head slightly, eyes focused on the floor. "I don’t wanna talk about it."

Joel nodded, his respect for your boundaries clear in the way he didn’t push. His silence was enough.

When you reached his truck, Joel held the door open for you, waiting for you to slide in before he closed it softly. When he sat on the driver's seat and turned on the car, he cleared his throat. "If you want, you can ride to school with me tomorrow. Your car’s gonna be here, right?"

You nodded, still feeling disoriented. "Okay." You paused for a moment before asking, "Um, is there any chance I could stay in your class during lunch time?"

"To go over the material for next week's test?" he replied with a sarcastic tone. He knew you didn't need any tutoring for his class. You were his top student.

You raised your eyebrow, smirking. There was an unspoken communication between you two. You were completely transparent to him, and he knew why you wanted to sit with him during lunch time. He always knew. You had talked to him before, opened up about many things, mostly about the situation at home.

He offered that you could stay in his class as long as you like, and that he'd talk to the school counselor to excuse your attendance from other classes. You didn't like doing it often, because you hate feeling like a burden - though he had never made you feel like one.

He gave you a thoughtful look before answering. "'Course. You can hang around as much as you like, darlin'. We already talked about this."

You smiled, appreciating his offer more than he knew. You weren't sure how to thank him for everything.

After a few moments, you told him the exact street you lived at and before long, Joel was pulling into your driveway.

The streetlights casted a soft glow over the road, and when he stopped the truck, he turned to you, slowly, "I’ll wait for you here at 7:30 sharp tomorrow, alright?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "Thanks, Mr. Miller."

"Just Joel will do, honey. I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave you a small wink, watching you get out of the truck and walk toward your door.

He stayed still for a moment, eyes following you as you disappeared inside. Only then did he pull away, already planning on being there first thing tomorrow morning.

[satellite-evans]

right where you left me

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex girlfriend!reader

Summary: You're still where Max left you.

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is the first fic that I’m posting for the folkmore series, I am so excited!!! Can’t wait to hear what you guys think <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The restaurant still smells the same. The warm scent of buttered bread, the faint tang of expensive wine in the air, the subtle undertone of aged wood and candle wax melting into soft pools of gold. It’s been months—years, maybe—since the night Max walked out, yet the place feels untouched, frozen in time. Just like you.

You sit at the same table, your fingers brushing against the linen napkin, tracing invisible patterns on the surface. The same table where his laughter once curled in the air, where his hands would have reached for yours without thinking. Your glass of water remains half-full, just as it was that night. Untouched. Forgotten. A relic of a moment that still lingers in the corners of your mind like an echo you can’t quite silence.

The candlelight flickers, its glow catching the delicate ring you still wear on your right hand—the one he gave you as a promise before he decided promises were too heavy to keep. You twist it absentmindedly, the metal cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth of memory.

Outside, the city hums with life. Cars glide past, their headlights flashing like distant stars. The murmur of strangers, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter—all of it moves forward, untethered to the past. But here, at this table, in this restaurant where time seems to hold its breath, you sit in the hollow space he left behind.

And for the first time in a long while, you wonder if he ever comes here, too. If he ever stops just outside the door, hand hesitating on the handle, breathing in the familiar scent and remembering. Or if, like the promises he made, he’s let it all go.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waiter’s voice pulls you from your trance, gently but firmly, like a hand on your shoulder bringing you back to the present. You blink, your gaze shifting from the flickering candlelight to the young man standing beside your table, his notepad poised, his expression polite but unreadable.

You only shake your head, offering a tight smile. “Not yet,” you murmur, though you already know the answer.

He doesn’t question it. He never does. Maybe by now, he recognizes you—not just as another customer, but as a fixture of this place. The girl who always sits alone. The girl who never changes her order. The girl who lingers too long over a half-full glass of water, as if she’s waiting for it to fill itself. The girl who still waits for someone who isn’t coming back.

Does he wonder? Does he piece together the story in his mind, constructing quiet theories about why you return to the same spot, why your fingers still play absentmindedly with a ring that should’ve lost its meaning by now? Is he used to people like you—the ones who haunt old memories like ghosts who refuse to be laid to rest?

Or does he just think that you’re a girl frozen in time, that time went on for everyone else but that you wouldn’t know?

A girl that just can’t move on.

He nods, stepping away without another word, leaving you alone once more. Alone with the past. Alone with the quiet hum of the restaurant around you, the soft clatter of silverware, the muted conversations that blur together into white noise.

You exhale, glancing toward the empty chair across from you. It remains untouched, just as it was that night. Just as it has been every night since.

You wonder if Max ever thinks about this place. If he ever remembers the way your fingers used to trace lazy patterns over his knuckles while he rambled about race strategy, his voice animated, his eyes alight with passion. If he recalls how you’d bite your lip to keep from laughing when he confidently—yet disastrously—mispronounced the names of the wines on the menu, only to scowl at you in mock offense when you corrected him. If he ever sits in a quiet moment, caught off guard by a passing scent or a familiar song playing in the background, and suddenly, inexplicably, thinks of you.

If he feels even the slightest pang of nostalgia when he hears your name.

If he even knows that you come to this restaurant, even though you felt the most heart crushing pain here.

That he left you no choice but to stay here forever.

Or if he’s forgotten all of it. All of you.

You hadn’t meant to check, but old habits die hard. One second, your mind was wandering, and the next, your fingers were already scrolling, moving with a muscle memory you wished you didn’t have. Before your brain could stop them. Before your heart could brace itself.

And suddenly, there it was, a picture trending on Twitter.

Max Verstappen & Kelly Piquet expecting their first child together!

The words seem to blur for a moment, your vision tunneling, breath catching somewhere in your throat. And then, below the headline, a photo.

You wanted to say that it was irony or even faith that you found out that he was expecting a baby with another woman in the same restaurant where he would whispered sweet words about how he wanted to be father to your children so badly, but you don’t believe in faith anymore. This restaurant was just destined to haunt you forever.

At least he looks happy.

Happier than you remember. Happier than he ever was with you.

Your grip tightens on your phone, but your body remains still, frozen in place. The sounds of the restaurant fade into static, the clinking glasses and quiet laughter around you suddenly feeling like background noise to a scene you no longer belong in.

You exhale slowly, pressing your lips together as you force yourself to look away from the screen, as if that might erase the image from your mind. As if that might make it hurt less.

But it doesn’t.

The ring on your finger feels heavier. It presses into your skin like an anchor, pulling you back to a past you can’t escape, a past you’re still tethered to. You blink rapidly at the screen, hoping, praying, that the words will change. That maybe this is some cruel joke, some mistake, but they don’t. The image doesn’t blur. It’s real. It’s him.

Another picture.

Christmas. They’re spending it together.

A perfect family. The kind you used to imagine when you’d sit together, planning for the future, talking about how one day, maybe, you’d have a house full of children and laughter.

The cruelest part is how ordinary it all looks. A picture-perfect moment, the kind you once dreamed of having with him, now shared with someone else. A life you are no longer a part of.

It’s funny, really. How time moves forward for everyone but you. How the world shifts, the seasons change, new memories replace the old ones. Love finds new homes. But you? You’re still here, frozen in place, gathering dust like an abandoned photograph tucked away in a forgotten drawer, one that’s too painful to even look at anymore.

You can’t help yourself but eread the headline over and over again and look at the pictures of them spending Christmas together, as if the repetition might somehow make it easier to swallow. Your heart clenches, a familiar ache spreading through your chest. The kind of ache that never really goes away. The kind of ache that lingers, festers, and refuses to fade no matter how much time passes.

You want to scream, to throw your phone across the room, to erase the image, the words, the entire situation from existence. But you don’t. You sit still, paralyzed, watching the truth unfold in front of you, as if you’re witnessing something that’s no longer your story but someone else’s.

And maybe it is. Maybe it always was.

You think about the night he told you. The memory lingers, every detail sharp as if it just happened yesterday. The dim candlelight flickered between you, casting warm, uneven shadows on the table, making his eyes look darker than usual. Your hair was pinned up, just the way he liked it, because all you wanted was to be enough for him, to be loved and cherished by him just the way you loved him. You remember the way he fidgeted with the water glass in his hands, the way his fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calmness his voice tried to convey. He didn’t even drink from it, just held it there like it was something to anchor him. And you? You could feel it before he even spoke. The knot in your stomach, tight and twisting, the way your heart seemed to freeze in place, like it already knew what was coming before your brain would allow it to acknowledge the truth.

"I met someone."

The words barely make sense. They hang in the air between you, impossible to grasp. For a moment, it feels like the world tilts on its axis, like reality itself has cracked and this is some sort of cruel dream you’ll wake up from.

You almost laugh, bitter and disbelieving, because it doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound like Max. Not the Max who once whispered forever into your hair, promising you a future where nothing could tear you apart. Not the Max who swore he couldn’t imagine a life without you, who said your names together like they belonged in the same sentence, forever linked. But the words still come, and somehow, despite everything, they are his.

The restaurant around you starts to fade away, the sounds dulling to a distant hum, muffled like you’re underwater, as if the world is pulling away from you, inch by inch. Your heart races, but your body feels oddly disconnected from it all, like you're watching someone else’s life unfold before you, helpless to stop it. You take a shallow breath, but it doesn’t reach the depths of your chest, and the weight of the moment settles in there like a stone you can’t dislodge.

"What?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips, a fragile whisper, so quiet that for a second you think he won’t even hear you. But he does.

His gaze drops to the table, his eyes avoiding yours, as if he can’t bear to see you crumble, as if he’s already sorry for what he knows he’s about to do. His voice is quieter now, almost too soft to catch. "I didn’t mean for it to happen."

You shake your head, disbelief clouding your thoughts. Your hands curl into fists in your lap, nails digging painfully into your palms, trying to hold on to something, anything. The ring on your finger suddenly feels like it’s choking the life out of you. "But it did."

The words escape from your throat like shards of glass, sharp and cold, biting as they land between you. He swallows hard, and you wonder if he’s doing it to hold back tears, or if it’s just the weight of what he’s about to say.

“She has a daughter,” he adds, his voice thick, but the words hit you like a slap, sharp and unforgiving. You feel your mascara run as your eyes sting with the hot, unfamiliar ache of betrayal. But you don’t wipe the tears away. You don’t move. You just sit there, paralyzed, staring at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that could take it all back. That could prove this isn’t real. That could remind you of the love you thought was enough.

“She’s not mine,” he continues, his voice wavering, like he’s trying to make it sound better, like he’s trying to convince you this is somehow okay. “But I love her like she is.”

The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. A sudden, cold numbness spreads across your chest, a pain that feels both sharp and hollow. The space between you and him stretches, filling with the things he can’t say.

“And her mother?” You force the words out, each one heavier than the last.

His silence is loud enough to drown out everything else—the clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations from nearby tables, the soft jazz music playing in the background. Everything around you fades into the background until all that’s left is him and you, caught in the unbearable weight of what he won’t say.

When he finally speaks again, his voice barely rises above a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth. “I love her too.”

And just like that, it’s over. The last thread of hope you had been clinging to snaps, leaving you floating in a place where nothing makes sense anymore. The ring on your finger burns, searing into your skin, but you don’t take it off. Not yet. You can’t. Because somehow, it’s the only thing left of him, of the person you thought you knew, of the future that is no longer yours.

You know where he is now. He’s winning. He’s thriving. The world sees him on podiums, champagne in hand, his new life already unfolding in the bright lights. He’s standing beside someone else now, someone who doesn’t carry the weight of the past, someone who fills the space you left behind with ease. The world loves him, adores him. And you? You’re still at the restaurant, in the ruins of what he left behind, trapped in a love story that never got its happy ending, a story that no longer belongs to you.

You press your phone to your chest, as if it could somehow stop the ache from spreading. As if holding onto the past will make the present hurt less. But it doesn’t. The weight of the truth is suffocating, a heavy fog that settles over your heart, and you realize, with painful clarity, that you were never meant to be a part of his forever. You were never meant to last.

The whispers around you grow louder, piercing through the fog of your thoughts, and it doesn’t take much to understand why. You hear his name before you see him, and when you finally do, it feels like the ground beneath you tilts ever so slightly.

Max.

He looks different—sharper, somehow. More defined, more polished by the world that shaped him after you. His eyes sweep over the restaurant, and you wonder if they’ll stop on you, if he’ll look at you and see something from the past, something worth acknowledging. But no.

He’s here’s. At the restaurant. With her.

He really brought her here.

Kelly is beside him, her laughter effortless, untouched by the weight of history, the burden of old wounds. She leans into him, her hand resting gently on her stomach, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at him with the kind of love you used to think was meant for you. She doesn’t know what it’s like to sit in this seat, to watch someone walk away, to feel the years stretch endlessly before you as you wonder if they ever think about you.

Max’s gaze flicks across the room, and for just a split second, it lands on you. It’s so brief that you almost convince yourself it didn’t happen. But it did. His steps falter for a fraction of a second, his fingers tightening around Kelly’s hand before he looks away, as if something inside him is trying to hold onto a memory that’s already slipping through his fingers.

And that’s it. No smile. No apology. No acknowledgment. Just a glance, a flash of something unspoken, and then—nothing.

You knew that he didn’t care about you but, facing with that reality hurt you more than you thought. Here you were, coming to the same place a man hurt you because you loved him so much, only for the same man to come too because he didn’t love you at all.

What a shame.

Maybe it is true. Maybe you really are unawarely frozen in time. Maybe that would explain why you still feel the same pain now as on the day he left you.

You swallow hard, blinking away the burning in your eyes. The candle on the table flickers, casting long shadows that seem to stretch endlessly across the walls. The world outside moves forward, time marching on relentlessly, but you remain frozen in place, clutching onto the past like it’s the only thing that hasn’t slipped away.

The moment passes, and Max moves on, just like he always does.

But you? You’re still right where he left you.

[paranoiddreams]

please absolutely explore tiger sukuna more

Tigerhybrid!Sukuna x fem!reader

Thank you so much for sending this in, I cherish every ask I get, truly!! I see Tiger!Kuna being this huge intimidating guy but in reality he just needs love lol. I hope you guys enjoy this!!

Tiger!Kuna is definitely a sight to see. Most people wouldn’t assume he’s your boyfriend, rather some man that you should be afraid of. 

To be fair, you were at first. He’s a big guy, for lack of a better term, and he doesn’t talk much, so his emotions are entirely impossible to read. But after some time, and a lot of reassurance, you saw through to Sukuna’s soft inner kitten. 

But people don’t know that, so the amount of times Sukuna is mistaken as your KIDNAPPER rather than your boyfriend is ridiculous. 

Like when you begged him to take you to target so you could find a makeup product you saw online, and he refused to even give you a few feet of space. It was almost comical how Kuna looked following you down the fluorescent makeup aisle, ignoring the other people shopping entirely. 

It only occurred to you that Sukuna’s clinginess could be mistaken as something else when an older women came up to you and tapped you on your shoulder:

“Hi honey, are you okay? Do you need help with anything?” She smiled as her eyes darted between you and Sukuna towering behind you, his ears twitching with agitation atop his head. 

“Oh, I’m fine. I just found what I needed,” you responded with a smile. But the woman took this as you not talking her ‘subtle’ hint, and leaned in closer to you. 

“Do you know that man…behind you?” She whispered. 

You looked over your shoulder at Sukuna, who was still staring you down, and the looked back at the woman. “Yeah, that’s my boyfriend,” you smiled at her, “he’s just like that!”

But it’s not Sukuna’s fault!!! You just make him feel like no one else has, and he’s enamored with you because of that. 

You could simply be near him, or even look a little extra pretty (which is all the time), and he’ll start purring like as loud as a sports car. One little touch from you has his pink ears twitching and fluttering atop his head. In other words, you are the sparks to his flame. 

Without you, he’d probably fall apart. Not just in a romantic I-can’t-live-without-way, but also because you are quite literally the glue holding him together. You run his warm baths, brush out his sensitive tail, and remind him to eat three meals a day; all without him asking. It’s become a natural routine for you, because taking care of him just makes you happy. 

And Sukuna is…not used to that, to say the least. He’s used to people being friendly to him out of fear of in order to gain something. Like the men he occasionally meets in bars that buy him a few rounds just to ask if he’s interested in underground hybrid fighting rings. Or others who only want him for sex, because they fetishize him. But you’re not those people—you’re far, far from those people. 

He only realized this when he saw that you were going out of your way to take care of him. The care you put into his specific diet, the pride you have in his abilities, the unmatched passion you have for the things he enjoys—it all went above and beyond anything anyone has ever done for him. 

In return, he treats you as if you were a princess he has sworn his life to protect. You never have to walk alone or drive anywhere, Sukuna’s got you. You’re no longer even obligated to worry about money anymore because he’s already throwing his card at you. And he will always and forever be your number one protector. He will defend you when no one else will, and he’ll be proud of it. Because he’s proud of you. 

[slytherin-pen]

In the Wake of Chaos

pairing: Cassian x Reader

word count: 2k

warnings: canon typical violence, negative self-talk, attempted r*pe

The training ring was empty save for the faint whisper of wind through the mountains and the dull thud of your fists against the punching bag. Your knuckles, already raw and bleeding, screamed in protest, but you didn’t care. You’d been at it for hours, the pain a distant echo compared to the churning turmoil inside you.

The memory was still fresh—too fresh. The alleyway, the bitter touch of the male’s hands, the terror that had gripped you when you realized how easily he could overpower you. You’d managed to escape, but the fear hadn’t left you. It had settled deep in your bones, gnawing at you until the only thing you could do was fight. Fight until the fear turned into something else, something you could control.

You were beyond drunk, your body filled with a heat only alcohol could provide. The music and chatter inside Rita’s blended into an incomprehensible hum as you walked to the exit. It had been hours since you arrived with the intention of forgetting your latest failures. The only mission you’ve accomplished as of late. You swayed on your feet, hands gripping the stair rail as your breaths turned into a cloud before you. It was freezing out, but thanks to your alcohol-induced internal warmth, you didn’t even think to regret not bringing a coat. As you rounded the corner, a slimy hand covered your mouth—muffled your scream.

“Don’t worry, doll. The quicker you behave, the sooner it’ll be over,” your attacker said. His voice was raspy like he had been inhaling smoke recently. Blonde hair receding towards the back of his head and with eyes so dark they looked black as they ogled your struggling form. The brick wall behind you bit into your exposed shoulders, and your thrashing only accentuated the pain.

You were too drunk for this. Your thoughts were hazy and everything felt as if it was in slow-motion, though you knew it wasn’t. The male did not take his time lifting your dress and putting a leg between your thighs as he ground into you. His hand found your throat and the lack of oxygen to your brain only served to disorient you further.

What do you do? What do you do? Everything was dark and cold, and your vision was fading as you struggled to breathe in air. You had cut off the bond hours ago, not wanting Cassian to feel your self-loathing as you drank away your sorrows. That meant he wouldn’t feel you now. The panic, the pain. You thought of what he would think about all of this. Disappointment, most likely. For getting yourself into this situation in the first place, for freezing rather than fighting like he had taught you so many times. You tried to remove your arms from his grip, but he was twice your size. His belly protruded out from under his shirt and rubbed against yours, your eyes barely reaching his chest.

How would this end? Would Cassian wake in the morning to find you still not home? Would he scour Velaris looking for you only to find your body in some alley next to a bar? No. You wouldn’t do that to him. You were the mate to the General of the Night Court. Imagine the jokes people would make if they found out your life ended because of your stupid mistake, because of your failing.

As the male stepped back to undo his pants, hunching over to fiddle with the buckle, you reared your head back and slammed it into his. Not the smartest move, as you were now seeing stars in your vision, but it was enough to make the oaf of a male stumble backward. You bolted. The world was spinning, and you grazed your hand over every solid surface you could find to keep your balance. You nearly broke an ankle every couple of steps and after a glance behind you to ensure the male wasn’t on your tail, you yanked them off. Gravel stones engrained themselves in the soles of your feet, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t stop until enough air had found its way into your lungs and the dizziness subsided, then you winnowed.

You hadn’t told anyone about the attack. What was there to say? That you, thanks to your decision to go out alone and distracted, had been easy prey? That despite all your training and all your effort, you were still vulnerable? You had winnowed to the Townhouse first last night. As you worked to calm your racing heart lest Cassian catch on to something being wrong the minute you’re in the same room as him, you found Mor’s makeup bag that she kept in her old room. You covered up the bruise around your neck and threw a sweater on over your dress to hide the angry, bleeding skin on your back. Once you arrived at the House of Wind, you thanked the Mother for Cassian sleeping like a rock. He couldn’t ask any questions if he wasn’t awake. After changing into long-sleeved pajamas and crawling into bed next to him, you stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night listening to your mate snore peacefully next to you.

You cursed under your breath as your punch landed wrong, sending a fresh wave of pain up your arm. You were exhausted, muscles trembling with the effort to keep going, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Enough.”

The word cut through the air like a whip, and you froze, your fist hovering in mid-air. Cassian stood at the edge of the ring, arms crossed over his broad chest, wings flaring slightly behind him. His hazel eyes crinkled with concern as he took in your state; sweat-soaked, bruised, and bleeding. You managed to avoid him this morning, feigning sleep as he woke with the sun like every other morning. You waited for him to leave to check on the Illyrian camps before setting off for training of your own.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Training,” you snapped, dropping your fist and turning away, wiping sweat from your brow with a trembling hand.

“This isn’t training,” he countered, stepping into the ring. “This is self-destruction.”

You felt a flash of anger, but the guilt and shame that had been festering since last night quickly swallowed it. “It’s nothing, Cass.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his tone gentle but firm as he moved closer. “Tell me what happened.”

The blood drained from your face. “Nothing happened,” you said, a little too high-pitched. “It’s just been an off week. You have those yourself now and then.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched you shift on your feet. You looked like a startled deer, frozen in place and staring at him with wide eyes. “Sweetheart,” he said more firmly this time. “I know when something is up with you. We’ve all had our off weeks, but I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what? I’m training a little harder, Cass. It’s not a big deal, just drop it.” As you turned back to the punching bag, a hand found your wrist. You forgot where you were, flashbacks of last night assaulting your mind. A gasp left your lips as you snatched your hand away and stumbled backward.

“I-” Cassian started. His eyes were shimmering with worry, glancing at you and then back at his still outstretched hand. “You need to tell me what happened. I’m not asking anymore, sweetheart.”

You clenched your fists, willing yourself to keep it together, but the exhaustion and fear finally shattered your resolve. Not to mention, you couldn’t lie to your mate. “Last night, outside Rita’s,” you began, your voice cracking with barely contained emotion. “I was trying to leave… and some male… he grabbed me. I got away, but—” You shook your head, unable to finish the sentence as the memories threatened to overwhelm you. You were hyperventilating now, stuck between the present and the memories.

Cassian’s expression shifted from concern to something darker, his jaw tightening as he took slow steps toward you. “He hurt you?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not really. I just… I can’t stop thinking about how easily he could have.” You met Cassian’s eyes, finally letting him see the fear and shame you’d been carrying. “I didn’t fight hard enough. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, and it’s my own fault, I—”

“Stop,” Cassian interrupted, his voice hard and commanding. He closed the distance between you in a few strides, placing a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder. “You got away. That’s what matters. And it is not your fault that some male tried to take advantage of you.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you there, grounding you. “It is my fault,” you whispered. “I was drunk and alone. I should have known better.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, waiting until you lifted your gaze to his. “It is not your fault. You are allowed to get drunk, you are allowed to go off on your own, and you are allowed to do whatever you damn well please. What is not okay is males attacking females in the street.”

His words chipped away at the walls you’d built around yourself, and you felt tears prick at your eyes. “But what if it happens again?” you asked, your voice small, betraying the fear you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

Cassian’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over your shoulder. “It won’t,” he said, his voice steady. “Because we’re going to make sure you’re ready for anything. We’ll run through every scenario you can think of until you’re so confident you could take down anyone, no matter their size.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks despite your best efforts. “Cassian, I…”

He pulled you into a hug, his muscular arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace that made you feel safe for the first time since the attack. “But first,” he murmured into your hair, “you need to rest. You won't be any good to yourself if you keep going like this.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, your body sagging against him as the adrenaline drained away, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you finally let go of the need to be strong, if only for a little while.

Cassian guided you over to the bench at the side of the training ring, sitting you down and grabbing a first aid kit from one of the nearby shelves. “Let me see your hands,” he said tenderly, kneeling in front of you.

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes was so filled with worry and care that you found yourself obeying, holding out your bruised and bloodied knuckles. Cassian winced as he saw the damage you’d done to yourself, but he said nothing, just started carefully cleaning the wounds with a soft cloth and applying a healing salve.

“I don’t blame you for going out,” he murmured as he worked, his touch gentle but efficient. “But why didn’t you come home? I thought you had still been on your mission when I went to bed. If I had known you were in trouble—” he shook his head before looking up at you, “I would have been there.”

You released a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want you to know I was back yet. I closed off the bond because I didn’t want you to feel my emotions. The mission went to shit, thanks to me making a mistake. Seems to be a common theme for me.”

That earned a glare from Cassian before he resumed wrapping a bandage around your hand. “You’re too hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, including me, Rhys, and even Az.” He tucked the bandage in before grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You cannot beat yourself up about it, only learn from it. You want to go to bar and drink until you’re numb, fine, but don’t shut me out. Ever. I’d rather be sitting next to you, offering whatever support I can, than find out later that my mate needed me and I wasn’t there. Understood?”

You nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry.”

He stood up and kissed your forehead before sitting next to you and bringing you into his arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you feel this way about yourself, but we’re just going to add that to the list of things to work on, because you deserve to know how amazing you are.”

A tear ran down your cheek and he swiped it away with his thumb. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling more vulnerable than ever, but also safe—truly safe—with your mate by your side.

He smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made you feel like everything might actually be okay. “Anytime,” he said, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. “You’re not alone in this, remember that. We’re a team, and we’re going to get through this together.”

After sitting there for a of couple minutes relaxing in Cassian’s arms as you watched the clouds move across the sky he spoke again. “Let’s get you cleaned up and some food in you. After that, we’ll figure out our next steps.”

You nodded, allowing him to help you up, his arm around your shoulders as he guided you inside the house. For the first time since that male grabbed you, you felt like you could breathe again, like the weight you’d been carrying was finally lifting.

And if Cassian showed up at the dinner table later that evening with bruised knuckles after hunting that male down, you were none-the-wiser.

[tkomptgoedluv]

girl with one eye.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.4

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 here | pt.4

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader is finally seeing a therapist, established relationship, they’re so so in love i wanna cry, reader just wants a good night sleep, joost just wants to help, a loootttttt of hurt, maybe too much of comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 2,833.

warnings: very detailed descriptions of SA, very brief allusion to drugging, semi-vague descriptions of a panic attack, rpf.

notes: hello angels! this is veryyyyy overdue but it’s finally here! the ending is a little rushed and i’ve only half-proofread it so please forgive me for any errors. also — this part comes with a MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING for those of you that struggle with SA, please do not put yourself at risk by reading if it’s not meant for you!

on a happier note, i’d like to give credits to @spentandpent for drawing that first image of joost in my little header thingy. their fan-art kinda inspired this whole part <3

also i wanna shoutout @howisjoostfanfictionforfree simply because sloane is one of my favourite people on this whole entire app, and she’s been so so supportive of me since my very first fic post. i ♥️ you, sloane my bbyg xx

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

you wanted to kick yourself.

genuinely, you felt a little sick whenever you thought about all those years you’ve wasted by being just a little too stubborn for your own good.

all those sweet, early mornings where the sun would peak through the blinds and you’d wake up to find him still curled all around you, and how you would run from them just because they started to feel a little too real. all those nights where you’d leave him still tangled up in the sheets, breathless and wishing you’d stay just a little while longer whilst you were already halfway out the door.

for years all you did was run, and you’re yet to forgive yourself for it. because this — this was heaven and you could have had it so much sooner if only you hadn’t been such a fucking coward.

you blame it all on those three little flings that you had over the years; those three no-more-than-six-weeks-long ‘relationships’ that still, somehow, almost ruined you. the first was a guy that seemed to love his pills and potions more than you, the second was once the ‘love of your life’ before he stuck his dick in someone else, and the third was nothing more than a few too many bad hookups with a guy you couldn’t quite shake.

they were what did it for you, in the end. what convinced you to avoid anything more than the odd one-night-stand here and there. you just weren’t cut out for the whole ‘dating’ thing, apparently, and that was fine. you were fine with that; happy about it, even. as long as it meant that you wouldn’t have to go through anymore disappointment, you’d live with it. or without it, rather.

so when you found yourself stood outside in the pouring rain, arguing back and forth with joost about something you can’t even remember anymore, you still thought it to be out of the question. you were refusing to believe that you were anything more than a stress-reliever to him, because that’s all you could ever be. all you ever wanted to be.

whatever it was that you and joost had, it was special. you couldn’t explain it, and you certainly weren’t willing to lose it by feeling all the wrong things for him. you had no idea that he was the one who’d fallen down that rabbit hole, the one who’d started feeling all those wrong things first — not until he kissed you that day.

with the rain soaking the two of you down to the bone, tears pooling in both of your eyes. his chest had been heaving and your throat had felt all scratchy from the yelling; still, he had been so gentle with you. even more so than he usually was. he had his hands cupping your face and the way he’d looked at you, still to this day it gives you goosebumps whenever you think about it.

how lucky you are that for the past six months joost has kissed you just like that, every single day.

every morning now, when you wake up to the sun shining through the blinds and joost’s arms still wrapped around you, you don’t dare to move. you wait until you hear that low grumble in your ear that’s always followed by a sweet kiss to the back of your shoulder, and only then do you roll over to return the favour. sometimes it unravels into something more, other times you’re both able to show some restraint.

the afternoons are always a little more unpredictable with joost’s job being what it was. there were days where he’d say his goodbyes before midday and wouldn’t return until the early hours of the next morning. there were the months where you’d be lucky to even get a whole day together at all. but there were also the days where he’d only be out for a few hours, either at the studio or one of the boys’ houses. on those ones, whether it was your place or his, joost would always come home to you with pastries in his hand and some new art of his to show you.

for the first time in all your years of living, things were finally good. you were happy; you were in love. it was only right to assume that with that, everything else was bound to fall into place.

but you just weren’t sleeping.

you drift off for a while, tucked neatly away into joost’s arms as he engulfs you, him always being so insistent on being the big spoon. for a couple hours you’ll sleep like that, tossing and turning until you’re all the way over on the other side of the bed, and it’s there that you wake up struggling to catch your breath, shaking like a leaf.

usually, it’s just bits and pieces of that night all jumbled up that you see. quick ‘flashes’ of his face, the bloodied crack in the bathroom mirror, the feeling of the porcelain sink digging into your stomach as he bent you over it. nothing truly coherent, but enough to still wake you up in a panic at three o’clock in the morning. then it becomes a gamble as to whether or not you’re able to fall back asleep. most of the time, you’re still laying there wide awake when the sun starts to rise, still far too afraid to close your eyes again.

though for whatever reason, tonight’s dream had been particularly awful. you could’ve sworn that you were actually back there this time, relieving the whole thing. you could feel his hand on the back of your neck, squeezing, keeping you pinned down. you could feel your skirt all in a bunch around your waist again and your tights barely hanging on from how he’d ripped them to near shreds.

and now you were here, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry too loud whilst the clock ticked closer and closer to dawn. it was almost five o’clock in the morning so really, it should’ve felt as though you’d gotten at least a couple hours of good sleep. instead, you were exhausted; wide awake with your heart pounding inside your chest, but exhausted as tears slipped from the corners of your eyes.

this wasn’t what you expected, not when joost had painted such a beautiful picture that therapy was the be all and end all cure for any and every problem. it had you convinced that by the time you were a few months into your sessions, things would’ve gotten at least a little bit easier. perhaps it was your fault for getting your hopes up the way that you did.

you were trying to keep it quiet, your crying. you hadn’t told joost about what had actually happened that night yet, let alone the nightmares about it. he had a habit of carrying other people’s pain so that they wouldn’t have to themselves — you didn’t want to be one of those people.

after a while though, you didn’t have that choice anymore. there was a bang from outside, nothing more than just an old, cheap car backfiring, and you jumped. you made the bedframe shake a little more than it already was and yelped just loud enough to wake joost up from his sleep. you swore underneath your breath as he grumbled something you couldn’t quite hear before looking back over his shoulder at you.

“you heard that too?”

when you didn’t say anything he turned over fully, the sheets rusting and the mattress creaking as he moved.

you heard him whisper your name, just in case you really were still asleep, but even in the dark he could see that your eyes were open and staring blankly at the ceiling. it was a quiet sniffle that gave you away in the end, because the dark did well at hiding the wetness in your eyes. still, it couldn’t conceal the quick wipe of your nose; even in the dark and without his glasses on, joost could still see that.

“hey, are you crying?”

you didn’t mean to flinch when he went to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes, and you didn’t mean to worry him by doing so. it made his eyebrows furrow as he pulled his hand back and sat up slightly, propping himself up on one of his elbows.

“what’s going on?”

“nothing, i just…i’m just being a bit stupid. i’m fine; you can go back to sleep.”

maybe if there wasn’t that waiver in your voice you would’ve gotten away with it. joost would’ve mumbled something of an ‘okay’ and kissed you goodnight before rolling back over. you would’ve been left alone to wait for the sunrise, a cold sweat coating your skin despite the warm summer air that was rolling in through your open windows.

but even if he was half blind without his glasses on, joost’s ears worked just fine. he heard the waiver in your voice as well as the sniffle in your nose, and he knew.

joost wasn’t stupid; he noticed things. noticed the way the bags under your eyes had been growing heavier over the past couple months, and saw how even the smallest things were making you jump out of your skin. he knew what you were like though, knew better than to try and ask you about it. all he could really do was hope that the therapist you had now would be enough.

but he’d found you near-sobbing at five o’clock in the morning now; heard the fear in your voice, saw the tears in your eyes. it didn’t surprise you to see him immediately sit up and reach over, switching on his bedside light before turning back to face you. but it did bring on a wave of sickness to your stomach, the kind that made your hands feel clammy.

“no, you’re not fine. what happened?”

you wiped at your nose again, and then at your eyes. as you spoke you refused to look at him, keeping your gaze fixed on the ceiling because you truly did believe that all of this was stupid. your tears, the heavy beating of your heart — all of it.

“just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

you heard a soft sigh from bedside you and felt gentle fingers in your hair, finally tucking that one strand behind your ear. this time, you didn’t flinch. you leaned into the touch, letting a single tear slip down your cheek as you realised that soon, this might be the last time he’ll ever want to touch you.

“anything i can do?”

you really didn’t want to do this, but you knew you needed to.

“can i…can i talk about it? you know, about what happened that night?”

joost didn’t hesitate, he couldn’t — not when this was such a rarity for you. he nodded and laid back down, his tired eyes watching as you rolled over until your back was facing him. he couldn’t bring himself to ask why you wouldn’t look at him, just listened quietly as you sucked in a deep breath and watched as you curled yourself into a ball.

“the guy, he was nice at first; saw that i was on my own and wanted to know how i ended up there, i guess. he seemed normal, like he just wanted to get to know me.”

your voice was shaking as you spoke, and you were struggling to breathe through your stuffed up nose.

“i should’ve known that something was wrong when i started to feel like, drunk drunk, after only a couple of drinks. maybe he slipped something in one of them, i don’t know, but when he asked if i wanted to do a line with him i didn’t think i could say no.”

a large hand squeezed your hip from over the covers when you paused for a moment, a few tears getting caught in your throat when you tried to swallow them down.

“i uh, i followed him into the bathroom and i let him lock the door behind us, and i did the line he racked up for me. he promised me that it was a gift, that he didn’t want anything for it; he knew i didn’t have any money to pay him and he said it was fine. but when i tried to leave he told me that he’d changed his mind, said i could pay him back another way.”

joost’s hand fell from your hip when you slipped out from underneath it and curled in further on yourself. it meant that all he could do was watch from the other side of the bed as your shoulders began to shake from the small, pathetic sobs that you couldn’t hold back.

“i said no, joost. he got me up against the door, tried to reach underneath my skirt, but i said no. he didn’t like that — didn’t like it when i hit him, either. he…he bent me over the sink, hit my head against the mirror, told me that i owed him for what he’d given me.”

you had to fight to get the words out through all of your blubbering; through each of the hiccups and all of the gagging. you truly were in a bit of a state now, spiralling further and further down into the memory, but you needed to do this. no matter how much it hurt, you just needed to get it out.

“he held me down by my neck and he…he laughed when i told him i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t move, joost, i couldn’t get him off so i just…”

when you started to trail off, a pair of arms scooped you up and gently pulled you across the bed until you were flat again joost’s chest. you felt him rest his head in the crook of your neck, a dozen salty tears of his own dripping down onto your shoulder. for a while, neither of you said anything else; you’d gotten yourself too worked up to find the rest of your words and quite frankly, joost didn’t need to hear anything else. he had an imagination, he knew what happened next.

you caught him off guard when after a couple minutes, just after the silence had settled, you started to apologise over and over again. like a child too consumed with guilt, you were spewing out desperate ‘i’m so sorry’s one after the other until the words all slurred together.

“hey, hey, hey, stop that. you don’t need to do that.” you felt him kiss the back of your ear, your neck, your shoulder. “i’m never gonna blame you for it, okay? — it’ll never be your fault.”

joost’s grip on you tightened when you began to cry harder, your tears soaking the pale, bare skin of his arm. he nuzzled his face deeper into the dip of your neck, listening to the unsteady beat of your pulse as you breathed in quick, shallow breaths.

“i-i’m sorry.”

“shhh, hey, it’s alright. just focus on breathing, honey. that’s all you need to do.”

it took you until little drops of sun were spilling through the blinds to finally relax enough to breathe right. neither of you had moved an inch, you were both still all wrapped up in each other, only now the tears had dried and your eyes were growing heavier.

carefully, you twisted in his arms until you were facing his chest, and it was there that you curled up again. you felt him leave kisses all along your crown; in your hair and on your forehead. as you hooked a leg over his, he used an arm to pull you closer, only satisfied once you were as close to being under his skin as you could be.

the warm summer air was still blowing in through your bedroom windows. it made the whole room hot and sticky, making you sweat even more than you always were from being so close to joost. beads of sweat were gathering along your hairline as well as his, and the bedsheets were beginning to cling to your skin. it was clammy and uncomfortable — still, you wouldn’t move.

“thank you, by the way.”

it was the sound of your own voice to break the silence again, but it was your words that made joost shift a little, only to tilt his head down to get a better look at you. when he met your eyes he saw that you were already staring up at him with something of a smile tugging at corners of your lips.

“for what, baby?”

“for letting me talk about it…and for not running away afterwards.”

with his eyes drooping and his breathing slow, joost simply scoffed. his hands danced their way up to your jaw and cupped your face, his thumbs gently stroking along the pink blush of your cheeks.

“i could never run away from you.”

[heinou]

Everyone individually undercut! Also Au stuff and text undercut as well! tw: experiments, mentioning of animal death, etc.

Sooo

Spearm is here to deliver a pearl to Five Pebbles, a pearl that contains somethin else instead of path to the promised ascension and triple affirmative, a (somewhat computer)virus. Or, so to speak, an activation key.

In some of the experiments Spearmaster developed ability similar to speech to communicate, but SRS, being suspicious of their messenger possibly letting Five Pebbles know about the actual content of pearl and the horrors they have to go through almost daily, left them without a mouth!

As for Hunter, SRS was the one responsible for giving them rot, when they “helped” their friend and colleague NSH with creating an effective messenger. NSH, being fond of their creation, was very upset at Hunter becoming HLL, so SRS, sure thing, modified poor creature, somewhat “resurrecting” them by returning some portion of their consciousness, forcing Hunter to endure a lot of pain constantly

Arti has rot. She got it after multiple deaths to rot that was in FP’s can. She still isn’t able to leave the cycle, so she doesn’t have any other choice.

She knows something wrong, she is suspicious of Spearmaster.

Also Spearm is afraid of needles hehe

Rivulet is here to check up on moon and pebbles, along with finding out was the heck is happening (sent by Chasing Winds)

Also my unedited yapping below (partially the same as higher)

Evil suns and poor spearm hehehee (designs might change)

The whole idea is that Suns is more of a experiments guy, doing it for “fun” like it was in history with some illegal scholars that did horrible experiments on people “just for fun” and “why not” (sorts of like “what will happen if I blow up this creature?” “Oh, it blew up?” “Who could’ve thought!”)

And spearmaster is kind of a victim here, and in process of experiments he gained some sort of ability to communicate through “speech”

And Suns had to take that ability from them, just so spearm wouldn’t let all his plans and effort go to waste (+ so they wouldn’t be able to warn Five Pebbles about pearl containing something else and not the way to ascension)

Plus in canon Suns kinda ignores the whole ordeal and moon’s state for quite a while, so in this case it could be more than intentional

[signanothername]

I have a question! Have you heard of "Blue Joins The Bad Sanses" by @darkmuffinstudios? I was wondering what it would be like if something like that happened in your AU? Would it be Blue gets tricked and then realizes he made a mistake but Nightmare won't let him leave, or would something else happen?

Uh- I heard of the idea? As in I heard of the idea of Blue joining the Nightmare gang, but I never really heard of darkmuffinstudios’s specific version of it if that makes sense, most of what I’ve seen of it was in the form of multiple different fics around ao3

Still, not the point shzggs I get what you’re trying to ask

Uh well, the idea of blue joining the Nightmare gang wouldn’t even work in my multiverse tbh

It wouldn’t work because

1-Nightmare is very much not accepting any new members on his team, nor is he recruiting anymore people beside MTT, he could only barely tolerate the presence of three under him, and they’re already much work, plus, he sees it as a waste of resources to bring in more under him when MTT are enough to do the jobs he wants them to do, Swap’s existence would simply not provide anything for Nightmare but make him do extra unnecessary work, Nightmare would rather remove Swap from the picture entirely, than include him in it (basically kill Swap than recruit him)

2- Swap isn’t easy to manipulate or break, so even if Nightmare wanted a new recruit and he chose Swap for it, it’ll take so much time and effort to break Swap that Nightmare thinks he could instead save these resources for more important matters

Swap is one persistent mf, and someone who can go through horrifying shit and still hold his head high, like it never even happened to him, always find the light even in the darkest of times, always believe there’s hope when there seems to be none, Swap, is quite literally, more of what Dream wishes he could be than Dream himself is able to be, it’s one of the reasons Nightmare sees swap as a genuine threat to him, and as a reminder, my version of swap is a variant that went through Killer’s eye stabbing incident, and while that significantly affected Swap, it never truly weakened him, whether mentally, emotionally, or physically, quite the opposite, Swap took it as a learning experience and simply worked to better himself and his approach to things

And if Swap can go through that shit and still hold his head high, still put a genuine smile on his face, not taking his disability as an obstacle and instead find his footing with it like he had it all his life, without any resentment towards Killer at all, it’s obvious to Nightmare that it’d be a waste of effort to try and break him, he might as well just put his efforts into something else, something much more within reach, tangible, more likely to happen if you will

So even if Swap somehow ended up in Nightmare’s castle, under Nightmare’s mercy, it would take much more than Nightmare’s willing to give for Swap to break, hell, I think it’s a bit more likely that Swap would negate all the work Nightmare put into keeping MTT in line, give MTT too much of a shining sparkle of hope (much more than Nightmare would allow around his subordinates), and much more for Murder and Horror (Killer is a whole lot of a different story), give them the strength they need to disobey, to find a different path for themselves, to risk it and try to find their freedom

[dahlibae]

your blog is sooo 🫠🥵 so good!!!!

Jealous sugar mommy Wanda has been so on my brain!! Every event you go to she makes sure you look stunning but it’s always an excuse to make sure people stare and flirt so that she can haul your ass out to the car and punish you. Just to take you back in with your head hanging blushing and sore as you try to socialize now. Just. Yes.

warning(s) — drabble: mommy wanda, brat!reader, kissing, punishment, spanking, choking (18+)

AHHH THANK UUUU SWEETIE :P

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

i won’t lie i’ve been thinking about mommy wanda and how she wouldn’t tolerate brattiness. or back chat. or any kind of attitude towards her. like at all. 100%… but pushing buttons would be soo much fun, especially when you know all you’d have to do is bat your lashes at someone in front of mommy, and she’ll have you spread over her lap in no time lmaoo.

at first, i think she wouldn’t go so hard on you though just bc you like to “bat your slutty eyes at anyone with cleavage” as she would put it. but it would be the fact you don’t cave into submission after she’s already told you off for your behaviour.

it would drive her mental.

you would say something simple like: “well at least she’d treat me like her gf and not a show pony” or even worse, “bet she’d probably fuck me better too” bc let’s face it, at these events wanda has to be all serious and more than often if she doesn’t need you to win her favours she leaves you to your own devices. it’s not rlly your fault you’ve managed to find someone else to keep you company.

but that is exactly what would do it for the older woman.

and the fact that she’s already spanked your ass red and yet you still have an attitude.

she’d push you off her lap and head for the drivers seat, not saying a word to you and not waiting for you to climb into the passenger seat. she’d just drive home as fast as she could without care if you were in the back or the front or even the roof of the vehicle.

even after you arrived home, she wouldn’t say anything, immediately heading to the kitchen to pour another drink. the silence would kill you, and you knew you were in deeper shit than you wanted. it was supposed to be just a little fun, something to rile her up. not exactly hurt her… so to make it up to mommy, you’d go upstairs and undress before kneeling on the bed waiting for her to join.

when she finally arrived upstairs, you could tell she had began unzipping her dress. her eyes were cold and drifted over your bare frame before heading towards the wardrobe where she watched herself in the mirror as she slid the dress off her frame.

“you know… i got all dolled up just for you baby.” she’d caress at her sides as you took in the sight of the red lace against her alabaster skin,“wanted to take you home after tonight and show you how much i love it when you’re a good girl for me.”

okay so… not upset. but maybe homicidal?

she looked like she wanted to eat you alive.

the dress left in a pile on the floor, she’d now stand in front of you, delicate fingers trailing over your sensitive nipples, licking her lips as she watched your skin shiver underneath her. absentmindedly, you’d raise your hands to grab onto her hips, fingers immediately reaching for the protruding bones of her pelvis you just love to kiss and bite and suck…and that snaps her out of her trance as she steps away from you.

that look of adoration she usually has on her face now replaced with the cold one from before. she’d step back into you, this time crowding your space, as her hand wraps around your throat, and she tips your head back to meet hers. you’d look so adorable, flustered with a little pout on your lips that she’d have no choice but to press few kisses, demanding entrance so she could suck on your tongue, before refocusing on the task at hand.

you had been such a bad girl for her.

and wanda doesn’t like when her girl misbehaves.

“oh baby,” she’d release your lips with a loud smack, “it’s too bad mommy now has to beat the brat out of you, huh?”

[ladykailitha]

Share With Me One Love, One Life Time Part 3

Hey, guys! We are moving right along with this story, and I think we're gonna hit 8 chapters if everything goes to plan. Fingers crossed!

So much happens in this chapter, like sooo so much it would take as long listing it as it would for you to just read it.

Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

~

Steve was on the walkie talkies as much as he could spare when they weren’t looking into the issue of Vecna, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like they’d forgotten him.

Nancy had gone to Wayne first thing in the morning.

“Mr. Munson?” she asked timidly. “I’m Nancy Wheeler.”

“Ah,” Wayne said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back. “I don’t have my shot gun or you’d be facing its double barrel, I’m afraid. I know what you did to Steve, you and I aren’t gonna get cozy anytime soon.”

Nancy winced. “Yeah, I know. But I’m here about Eddie.” She inched forward, nervously picking at her fingernails.

Wayne glared at her and took a step back. “Dr. Owens has already been in touch and I’ve been forcibly removed from my home. They think this another Upside Down fuckery.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking at the ground. “Steve and Eddie sent me because if the police or anyone else are watching you, then it won’t link back to them. They’ll just see some nosy Parker hoping to get her first big scoop.”

Wayne licked his lips nice and slow. “I can see sense in that, I suppose. So my boy is safe?”

“Yes,” Nancy said quickly. “But with the cops thinking he did it, I don’t know how long that’s going to be true.”

“My boy didn’t do that,” Wayne growled. “He wouldn’t. He’s not in league with whatever is doing this and you best remember that.”

“I don’t think he had anything to do with it either,” she hastened to reply. “We know what people look and act like when they’re being controlled and he doesn’t display any of the symptoms.”

Wayne eyed her suspiciously and then nodded curtly. “What are you next moves?”

~

“No.”

Robin and Nancy looked at each other in shocked anger.

“Are you suggesting that we would need a big tough guy to go to a psychiatric hospital?” Robin sneered.

Wayne crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. Because what happens if he attacks one of you before the orderly can get to him? Say oops, when he snaps one of your necks?”

Nancy started stammering and um’ing and ah’ing while Robin stared at him wide eyed and in shock. Steve pursed his lips and waved at Wayne, indicating he had a point.

“If you’re not going to listen to me,” he huffed, “maybe you’ll listen to him. Because honestly that’s only the worst case scenario, but the others aren’t much better. What happens if you get caught?”

“Well,” Nancy huffed as she scrambled for an answer, “I mean...it’s worked for us in the past.”

“You’re not going and that’s final,” Wayne growled. “I don’t care if that’s how you always do things before, you’re not doing them now. I get your lot is all that is standing between the end of the world, but we’re going to do things the smart way and not blunder into the right thing by accident.”

Steve smiled and relaxed. He still cared about Nancy and Robin was his best friend, the thought of them talking to that man without help sent shivers down his spine.

“So what’s going to happen is this,” Wayne continued, “Robin and Steve will keep an eye on Max and the other kids, while Nancy and I head to Pennhurst. Is that clear?”

Robin nodded, feeling relieved. She would have gone with Nancy if she was asked to, because someone needed to keep an eye on her. But with Wayne going with her, that was a load off everyone’s shoulders.

Nancy chewed on her lip, she didn’t want anyone to get in her way, and she had deliberately picked Robin because she knew the other girl would do as she said. But judging from the way Wayne was glaring at her, he had figured her out.

“Fine.”

~

“You can’t keep me here,” Max huffed, “in this basement that smells of sweaty boys and old socks.”

“Yes I can,” Steve snapped back. “I don’t want you running off where we can’t see you and have you up and die on us!”

“I’ll call my lawyer!” Max hissed. “So either you drive me or I start walking!”

Steve closed his eyes and then buried his head in hands. He didn’t want to do this. Billy didn’t deserve the letter she was going to read to him. He still had his in his back pocket and he had no intention of reading the thing because they were going to save her. They had to.

He yanked open the car door. “Everyone in!”

Lucas got in first and scooted to the middle as Robin and Max flanked him, Dustin having beaten them to the front seat.

~

They drove out to the cemetery and parked as close as he could to Billy’s grave. He rubbed his chin as he waited.

“If you don’t shut up,” he finally growled at Dustin, who was being a little shit, “I’ll knock out those brand new pearly whites of yours.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Dustin huffed, turning to face Steve with furrowed brows. “Too far!”

“Then you knock it off,” Steve snapped back. “I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but holy hell the lack of respect coming from that side of the car is immense right now.”

Dustin rolled his eyes as Steve turned his attention back to Max. “That’s it, I’m calling.” He shoved the car door open and slammed it shut.

Lucas was out of the car in a flash. “She said to give her time.”

“I don’t care,” Steve huffed. “It’s been long enough.” He stalked across the cemetery lawn, passed the other tombstones.

He reached her and whirled her around, but gasped when he saw her eyes had gone milky white. “Shit!” He shook her shoulder. “Max! Max!”

Dustin, Lucas, and Robin all came dashing over.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Lucas screamed as Max started to rise into the air. He jumped on her to try and keep her on the ground, but she rose with him attached to her legs.

Steve pushed Dustin toward the car. “Get Wayne and Nancy on the walkie-talkie! We need to know what they found out now!”

Dustin scrambled to do as he was told. Lucas tumbled to the ground and let out a pained cried, Robin rushed to his side.

“Hey, you okay?” she murmured. He nodded, hold his arm. He rubbed it a moment and then stood back on his feet.

“Music!” Dustin screamed. “She needs music!”

Then it was Lucas scrambling for the car, he came back with headphones and a Walkman. He turned the music up as loud as he could. Steve and Robin both grabbed Max’s ankles and dragged her down. Lucas slapped the headphones on her head and turned it down so that they couldn’t hear the music anymore, but that it was still loud enough for Max to hear.

As soon the headphones where on she dropped the rest of the way into Lucas’s waiting arms.

A beat. Then another as they waited.

Max opened her eyes and everyone was sobbing in relief. Dustin immediately replied back to the waiting members of their Party. “She’s safe, she’s safe.”

~

“Steve,” Eddie breathed into the walkie-talkie, panic rising from the pit of his stomach. “Please come in. I’m in trouble.”

“This is Steve,” Steve murmured into his device. “What’s wrong?” The recombined Party stood outside the Creel house, looking for a way in.

“Jason and his goons are outside,” Eddie hissed back. “And they don’t look friendly.”

“Shit!” Steve replied. He turned to the rest of them. “We need someone who can drive to go and get Eddie, Jason is there at the boathouse and he’s trapped.”

“I’m on it!” Wayne said digging out his keys.

“Wait!” Nancy shouted, throwing up her hand to stop him. “Take my car! Your truck will be too recognizable!”

Wayne stared at her for a moment and then tossed her his keys. She tossed him hers. He yanked open the door to her station wagon and sped off.

They all kind of stood there for a moment taking in the absolute terror of Jason coming after Eddie, before Robin broke the silence. “So are we breaking into this joint or what?”

~

Eddie made it out onto the boat in the middle of the lake when Patrick, Jason, and Andy came after him. They were about three feet from shore when Wayne pulled up in Nancy’s station wagon. He popped open the glove box and rolled his eyes. Inside was a revolver, with a sigh he pulled out and checked the rounds.

Fully loaded.

“I might like her a little bit,” he muttered as he hopped out of the car and ran up to the water.

“You boys best not be doing what I think you’re doing,” he growled and cocked the gun, the sound loud and clear on the open water. “I’mma gonna give you to the count of five to turn around, nice and slow.”

Jason and Andy turned around as they were told, but Patrick had kept going and had gotten about halfway to Eddie when he started rising in the air.

“Shit!” Wayne hissed as the boys turned around and saw their friend plunge into the water as if by some unseen force. Which considering this Vecna son of a bitch, was more than accurate.

Andy and Jason ran back into the water and Wayne dived into the open door of Nancy’s station wagon and turned up the radio as loud as it could go.

But it was too late. Patrick shot out of the water again and his limbs twisted unnaturally; the sound of them snapping would haunt Wayne for the rest of his days. Eddie started screaming and he scrambled back in the boat in terror, but he went too far and fell into the water.

“God damn it!” Wayne cursed and ran out to the water, but before he could even get to the shore, Patrick dropped like a stone.

“Shit!’ he cursed again.

Jason started screaming about the devil and how he had come to Hawkins, while Andy actually dove into the water to get their slain friend.

“Cal’s gonna kick my ass for this,” he groused, then hauled off and smacked Jason hard across his face.

Jason stopped screaming , staring at Wayne in wide-eyed shock, holding his cheek.

“Do something useful and go into the house and call the cops,” he snarled, “while I help your friend here bring the body to shore.”

Jason hurried to do what he was told and Wayne waded out to the water to help Andy bring Patrick’s body in.

~

“Wayne...” Calvin Powell growled when he saw him sitting on the hood of Nancy’s car, picking at his nails.

“I’m gonna protect my boy,” Wayne said without looking up from his hands. “And those other boys were gonna kill him.”

Powell turned slowly to Jason and Andy who refused to look at him.

“Was that what you were going to do, boys?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “Or is Mr. Munson overreacting?”

Wayne snorted. “If they were planning on bringing him to justice then why didn’t they call police when there was talk of activity up here? Because that’s why I’m here. I heard the same god damn thing.”

Powell pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

“You boys are coming with me,” he said, resigned. “To give your statements about Patrick McKinney’s death to start and then we’ll see about the other thing.”

“I’ll give you my statement,” Wayne said dryly, “but you try to stop from trying to find my boy, you and I are gonna tangle, Cal.”

Powell opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was futile. “Fine.”

He looked over at Wayne and then frowned. “Where’s your truck, Wayne?”

Wayne hopped off the station wagon’s hood and patted it fondly. “Nancy Wheeler was wanting to write about the murder and my boy when I heard some of the neighbors talking about lights on up at the Lipton place. So I wanted to go see if it was Eddie and wouldn’t you know it the damn truck wouldn’t start so Nancy let me take her car.”

Powell nodded, but wisely said nothing. He let Wayne get into the car and drive off, before he turned to the other boys.

“We’re going to stay put until the coroner arrives,” he said pointing back and forth between Jason and Andy, “and then you are going to follow me to the station where you are going to tell me everything!”

~

Tag List: EIGHT SLOTS REMAINING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle

[hishumanbellestories]

First kiss, but nothing serious.

I wanted something about the first kiss between Alastor and Deborah, I let myself go with the feelings, sweet and pathetic. 🫠

The air crackled between you like the charged silence before a storm. It had always been this way with Alastor — his presence was a static hum in your bones, an unseen force twisting the world around him. And yet, you were drawn to it, to him.

He grinned, as he always did; that sharp, ever-present smile that seemed more a mask than an expression. But his eyes — deep, endless red — lingered too long tonight, watching you as if there was something he couldn’t quite place.

«You do enjoy testing your luck, my dear», he said, voice syrupy smooth, but there was something else beneath it. Something unsettled.

You tilted your head, challenging him with nothing but a look.

«And you enjoy pretending you don't care».

For once, he didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he took a step closer, the space between you vanishing like smoke. His gloved hand reached out, hovering just near your cheek, fingers twitching as if fighting the impulse to touch you.

«You make the most dangerous assumptions», he murmured, and his voice was softer now, almost uncertain.

A rare thing.

You could feel his breath, though he didn’t need to breathe; could feel the static between you tightening like a wire pulled taut.

You knew Alastor — knew the way he toyed with the world, with people, but this wasn’t a game, was it?

The moment stretched, a delicate thread of something unnamed. Then, without thought, without fear, you closed the distance, placing your soft lips against his, just to spite him, and ruin his "I've got it all under control" ways.

The kiss was not meant to be anything but a test — chaste, fleeting. But the moment your lips brushed his, a current surged between you, sharp and consuming.

His entire body stiffened, and for a single, breathless second, the ever-present grin faltered. Then, just as quickly, it was back.

He pulled away, laughter bubbling up, but there was something wrong with it — too high, too forced — control slipped from his hands, causing the world to collapse beneath his feet.

«My, my, what a bold little thing you are!», he took a step back, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his face before his mask slammed firmly back into place. «Careful, darling. You wouldn’t want to start something you can’t handle.»

But you saw it.

The way his hands trembled ever so slightly.

The way his grin no longer reached his eyes.

He didn’t know what this was.

And that...

Terrified him.

For the first time, you saw Alastor shaken. It wasn’t much — just a tremor in his fingers, a flicker of something too raw in his eyes before he forced it back into that gleeful, manic mask. But you saw it. And he knew you did.

He recovered fast, of course. Spun on his heel like nothing had happened, hands slipping into his pockets as he whistled some old radio tune, his voice bright, careless. Too careless.

«Well, well! That was unexpected! Can’t say I planned for a lady such as yourself to be so…», his grin sharpened, «forward».

You crossed your arms, tilting your head.

«It was just a kiss, Alastor».

He stopped.

Just for a second.

Barely noticeable, but you caught it.

He turned to you, that ever-present amusement still there, but something lurked beneath it, something restless.

«Just a kiss?», he repeated it like the words were foreign on his tongue. He took a step toward you, then another, the distance between you vanishing once more.

He didn’t touch you, but you felt him all the same, the crackle in the air thick enough to choke on.

His voice dipped lower, softer, almost dangerous in its curiosity.

«Tell me, my dear… was that just a kiss to you?»

You held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

«I don’t know yet».

His grin widened, but his fingers twitched at his sides. That was new. Alastor never hesitated. He never second-guessed himself. But right now, he was doing both.

For a man who delighted in control, in knowing the game before it was played, this uncertainty was driving him mad.

The silence between you stretched, thick with something unsaid, something unacknowledged. You could see it in his eyes — the war raging inside him.

Then, suddenly, the tension snapped. He laughed. Loud, sharp, as if trying to shatter whatever had settled between you. With a theatrical flourish, he stepped back, hands thrown up as if waving off the entire moment.

«Well! That was certainly entertaining!», his voice was back to its usual, sing-song charm, but there was something off about it. «But really, darling, if you were expecting a fairytale romance, I’m afraid you’ll have to find some other poor fool for that!»

He winked, as if that sealed it, as if he hadn’t just been shaken to his very core.

You didn’t argue. Didn’t push. You just smiled.

«Who said anything about a romantic fairy tale?», you teased.

Because you knew.

He was running.

And one day, he’d realize there was nowhere left to hide.

Alastor kept his distance after that night.

Not in an obvious way — no, he was far too cunning for that. He still laughed with you, still appeared at your side with a flourish and a grin, still teased you like nothing had changed.

But it had.

You saw it in the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his hands would twitch when he got too close, the way his smile would slip — only for a fraction of a moment — whenever you so much as met his eyes for too long.

He was unraveling, and he knew it.

But Alastor didn’t unravel. He didn’t falter. He was chaos, but controlled chaos. And yet, you had done something to him.

And he hated it.

It came to a head one evening, the two of you alone in one of the lesser-used sitting rooms of the hotel. Rain pattered against the windows, and the room was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of an old lamp. It cast long shadows, twisting along the walls like they were alive, like they were watching.

You were watching too.

Alastor had been quiet all night, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his smile a little too sharp, his posture a little too tense.

«You’re avoiding me», you broke the silence with ease, not bothering to mask the amusement in your voice.

Alastor’s fingers stilled. His eyes flickered toward you, red and unreadable. Then — laughter. Bright, grating, forced.

«Now why would I do a thing like that, darling?», his voice was its usual sing-song self, but it lacked its usual bite. «I think you must be imagining things! After all... I am here, with you, all alone».

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm. «Am I?».

He hesitated.

It was brief, but it was still there.

A moment of hesitation, a sliver of uncertainty, and that was all you needed.

«Do you regret it?», you asked, voice softer now.

He went very still.

The shadows stretched around him, his antlers casting long, spindly shapes against the wall. The radio static that always followed him crackled just beneath the surface, an unspoken tension thrumming between you both.

Then — he laughed again, but this time, there was no humor in it.

«Regret?», he cocked his head, grin stretching unnaturally wide.

«Now why would I regret something so insignificant?».

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

«Then why are you running from it?»

His smile twitched. It was the smallest thing — so small most people wouldn’t have noticed. But you weren’t most people.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if shaking off something he couldn’t name. Then, with a sudden, almost violent movement, he was out of his chair and in front of you, too fast for you to react. One gloved hand braced against the chair’s armrest, the other hovering just near your face, fingers curling like he wanted to touch you but couldn’t.

Couldn’t.

Or wouldn’t.

You held your breath, but you didn’t look away.

«You think you’re so clever», he murmured, voice too low, too smooth, like a blade hidden beneath silk. «Poking at things you don’t understand. Playing a game you don’t know the rules to».

You smiled, slow and knowing.

«Then tell me the rules, Alastor», your voice firm and your gazes locked.

His breath hitched. Just for a second. And then, something in him snapped.

His lips were on yours before you even had a chance to react.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was a collision — sharp, desperate, edged with something neither of you had words for yet. His hand finally found your face, going against his instinct to give up on you, on your skin. Gloved fingers pressing into your skin, as if grounding himself, as if keeping himself from slipping through the cracks of something he couldn’t understand.

For a moment — just a moment — he let himself have this.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

He pulled away as if burned, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came.

Then — he laughed.

It was sharp, grating, too loud for the room.

A poor attempt at covering the tremor in his hands, the way his whole body seemed to be fighting against something it couldn’t name.

«Well, now!», he straightened, adjusting his tie with an exaggerated flourish. «That was certainly… enlightening!»

You didn’t speak. You just looked at him.

Waiting.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

«But I do believe I’ve kept you up far too late, my dear! Sweet dreams and all that!»

And before you could so much as blink, he was gone, vanished into the shadows like he had never been there at all.

But you knew better.

Because this time — he was the one running.

And sooner or later, he’d have to stop.

The distance didn’t last.

Of course, it didn’t.

You were attracted to each other like two magnets, the attraction for each other was too strong.

Alastor could run. He could retreat into the static, into the shadows, into the illusion that nothing had changed. But it had. And now, it was eating him alive.

It had been days since that kiss, since he had fled from you like a man on the edge of something he couldn’t name, something he couldn’t control. You had given him space, knowing he would break before you ever had to chase him.

And tonight, he did.

It was well past midnight when he found you.

The storm outside had swallowed the sky whole, thunder rolling in waves, rain hammering against the windows like impatient fingers demanding entry. The dim light of the hotel flickered, struggling against the pull of something unseen, something raw and waiting in the air.

You were in the lounge sitting on the sofa, the piano under the moonlight that created nostalgic atmospheres with the shadows of the reflections.

Alastor stood near the grand piano in the lounge, back turned to you, shoulders stiff beneath his coat. The room was empty, silent but for the faint crackle of radio static, seeping from him like a wound he couldn’t close.

You stepped forward.

«Alastor».

He didn’t turn.

«I should have left», he said, voice thick.

His voice was different. Not his usual sing-song lilt, not his playful, taunting tone. It was quiet. Unsteady. Almost human.

You frowned. «Left?»

He let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking his head.

«The moment I met you, I should have left».

Finally, he turned, and when he did, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Alastor had always been unsettling — too sharp, too knowing, always grinning like he was two steps ahead of everyone else. But now… now he just looked wrecked.

His red eyes burned, feverish, his usual grin nowhere to be found. Instead, his lips were slightly parted, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t form the words.

You stepped closer, and this time, he didn’t back away.

«What are you so afraid of?», you asked, voice gentle.

His jaw clenched. «Don’t».

«Don’t what?»

He exhaled sharply, running a gloved hand through his hair.

«This», he whispered.

«You...», he gestured wildly, like the very idea of you existing in his world was an offense to the natural order of things.

«It’s not supposed to happen like this».

You searched his face. «Like what?»

His eyes flashed. «Like this!»

And suddenly, his hands were on you — gripping your arms, pulling you close, too close.

You could feel the tremor in his fingers, the barely contained storm raging beneath his skin.

«You think I don’t know what you’re doing to me?», he whispered, voice rough, unsteady. «You think I don’t feel it? The way you—», his breath hitched. «The way you’re ruining me?»

Your heart pounded. «Ruining you?»

His grip tightened.

«I don’t love. I don’t want. Not like this».

His voice shook, something raw bleeding through the cracks in his mask.

«Not until you», his voice a tremor.

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

You lifted a hand, brushing your fingers over his jaw, his skin burning even through the gloves. «Alastor…»

He sucked in a sharp breath, as if your touch had cut him open, and for the first time, he didn’t move away.

«I hate this...», he confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

«I hate you», he said again.

«I hate that you’re in my head.

That I dream of you.

That every time I close my eyes, all I see is you. I hate it because I can’t stop it. I hate it because I don't want to stop it».

His forehead rested against yours now, his breath mingling with yours, the storm outside howling like a beast.

You swallowed hard. «Then stop running».

He stilled.

You slid your hands up his chest, fingers curling into his coat, holding him there, as if anchoring him to this moment.

«I don’t want you to love me if it means destroying you. But I see you, Alastor. The real you. And I’m not afraid».

His whole body shuddered, as if your words had shattered something inside him.

And then, before you could say anything else, he kissed you.

It was nothing like before.

There was no hesitation this time, no fleeting, confused touches.

This was something deeper, something desperate, something starving.

His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours like he wanted to disappear into you, like he wanted to drown in the feeling.

You gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound greedily, his grip unrelenting, as if letting go would tear him apart. The static around you roared, the air splitting with unseen energy, lights flickering wildly. The very room seemed to bend around him, as if he was losing control of everything but this.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still cradling your face like he didn’t dare let go.

His voice was hoarse, barely audible.

«You ruined me, my dear. You have no idea what it means to want you mine. What it means to be mine. Like a poison you have corroded my mind. My heart».

You smiled. «No. I saved you», a shiver runs down your spine.

Alastor let out a sharp breath, something like laughter, something like surrender.

Then, with a slow, almost reverent touch, he kissed you again.

And this time, he didn’t run.

[redicillin]

i’m at the point in the series where Cameron and chase are sleeping together as fwb, can I request doctor reader who finds out about this and is really upset because she thought there was something between her and chase, but maybe chase thinks that he’s not good enough for her and that she’d never go out with him and that’s kinda why he goes fuck it and starts sleeping with Cameron? sorry if that doesn’t make much sense!! 😭💗

𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. (𝐫.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞)

chase made a stupid mistake, and it ended everything between the two of you before it even began.

gn!reader ☆ 1.0k ☆ masterlist. ☆ sorry—

You’ve always prided yourself on being rational. You don’t get involved in workplace gossip, you don’t let emotions cloud your medical decisions, and you certainly don’t engage in petty jealousy.

But right now, sitting in House’s office as he drones on about a new case, you can feel the tightness in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, and the unrelenting weight of something ugly and unspoken pressing against your ribs.

Chase is sleeping with Cameron.

You wish you hadn’t found out. That House hadn’t been an ignorant prick and outed the two in the middle of the diagnostics room.

Maybe you could have gone a little longer in blissful ignorance, believing the stolen glances between you and Chase meant something.

Maybe you could have continued thinking that the lingering touches, the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the easy banter—it all meant something.

But it doesn’t. Because if it had, Chase wouldn’t have fallen into bed with someone else.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and focus on House as he scrawls nonsense across the whiteboard. No one else in the room seems remotely aware of your inner turmoil. Foreman is scribbling notes, Cameron looks perfectly composed, and Chase—

Chase won’t meet your eyes.

That hurts most of all.

You don’t know how you missed it. Looking back, the signs were there. The subtle shift in Chase’s demeanor, the way Cameron would smirk at him from across the room, the way they seemed… closer. More comfortable. And now, knowing what you know, you can’t unsee it.

“You still with us?” House’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You blink and realise that everyone is staring at you.

“I’m fine,” you reply, keeping your tone even.

House gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you but, surprisingly, doesn’t push. “Great. Go do doctor things.” He waves a dismissive hand. “You especially.” He points at Chase. “I need a coffee, British people drink coffee don’t they?”

“Australian,” Chase rolls his eyes but stands, shooting you a hesitant glance before leaving the room.

You should let it go. You should get back to work, shove your feelings down where they belong, and pretend none of this affects you.

But you don’t. Instead, you follow him.

—

You catch up to Chase in the break room, where he’s waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing. He notices you instantly, posture stiffening as he glances over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says cautiously.

You cross your arms, leaning against the counter. “Hey.”

For a moment, there’s only silence between you. The sound of coffee dripping into the pot is the only thing filling the space, and the tension is suffocating.

Finally, Chase sighs. “I should’ve told you,”

The confirmation makes your stomach twist. It’s not even a denial, not even an attempt to play dumb. Just quiet resignation.

“Does it matter?” you ask, voice quieter than you’d like.

He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess not,”

You want to be rational about this. You want to be mature. But all you can think about is how stupid you feel. How blind you were to something happening right under your nose.

“I just…” You shake your head, trying to gather your thoughts. “I thought there was something between us.”

Chase’s jaw tightens, his gaze dropping to the floor.

You swallow hard. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” he admits. “You weren’t,”

His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words slams into you with full force. You weren’t wrong.

“Then why?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop it.

Chase exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “Because it wouldn’t have mattered,”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and there’s something almost painful in his expression.

“You’re… you,” he says, as if that’s supposed to explain everything. “You’re brilliant. And focused. And incredible. And I—” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I didn’t think I had a chance,”

Your heart clenches. “So instead of even trying, you just… what? Slept with the first woman you spoke to?”

He flinches. “It wasn’t like that,”

“Then what was it like?”

He hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Easy? Safe?”

That stings more than it should. “So I wouldn’t have been easy or safe?”

His gaze sharpens. “No. You would’ve been real,”

The words knock the breath from your lungs.

Chase shakes his head, jaw tight. “Look, I know I screwed up. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Hell, I didn’t even think I had the ability to hurt you,” He huffs a bitter laugh. “Guess I was wrong,”

You don’t know what to say to that. Because he did hurt you. And the worst part is, you don’t know if he even realised he had the power to.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

Finally, you speak. “Do you love her?”

Chase doesn’t answer right away. And that tells you everything you need to know.

“No,” he says at last, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod slowly, processing his answer.

Chase steps closer, hesitating before speaking again. “Do you love me?”

Your breath catches.

It would be so easy to lie, to tell him no, to walk away and pretend none of this mattered. But you’ve never been good at lying to yourself.

“I could have.”

Chase’s expression twists with something unreadable. Regret, maybe.

You don’t say anything else. You just turn and walk away, leaving him standing there with the weight of everything unspoken between you.

Because maybe, in another life, in another version of this story, things could have been different.

But in this one, Chase never even gave you the chance.

[cxs-workshops]

Hi. I’m the person who almost attempted suicide, twice. Been nearly a year now, it’s out there, I do not care who knows.

Didn’t want to jump in this but here we fucking go: First to be fucking clear, and which no one, might I add. came to me directly to ask, all the the Logan/anon drama was NOT the reason I did why I did what I did. It didn’t help the situation, but it wasn’t the sole reason. I had so much IRL issues going on at the time, and I realize the petty stuff with the anon hate made it seem like it was the only reason but I barely thought about it while I was doing the thing. I have half the mind to bill a certain party the rest of my medical debt but hey, we’re gonna move on.

I cut myself off from fan servers and from most people in the community due to being anxious all the time, thus being alone since late 2023. If I was talking to anyone, it would be purely about the game or art stuff. Snowy & Goons, how DARE you use my situation to your benefit, and any of the posts I’ve made. You cannot outright accuse someone else of my suicide attempt without any concrete evidence. That’s a damn serious accusation. All we have are petty Tumblr anon messages. And ooo guess what, not every single Logan fan is gathered at Simprock, there are plenty of other individuals within the community, outside of fan servers. Who’s to say that your goons aren’t the ones posing as the anons for them to be framed? Idk but you can’t keep talking out of your ass. My harassment started roughly around 2020/21, I can’t even remember who said what at the time and who’s to say the same people are even around anymore. Should I have collected evidence? Seeing how it all came to this, yeah I definitely should have. I don’t have evidence, but most importantly NEITHER DO YOU. Which applies to many things for you.

Simprock was the last server I had joined. During the brief time I was there, was treated with nothing but kindness and respect. I admit, I do still have a sort of distrust with them, for other reasons, but with this it’s hard not to be on their side( and with apparent evidence) . Actually in fact, it was when Snowy had also joined Simprock, I bolted out of there shortly. I wasn’t there long enough to get to know anyone but I saw your name and my skin immediately crawled. We never talked directly but I first saw you in the bootleg my time server (late 2022-mide2023) the vibes were immediately off. I’m not of fan of Logan either but you were constantly belittling them, not cool. To think you’ve escalated this far…baffling.

Back to using my posts to your benefit, the zine post. How the fuck did you immediately accuse them again when I said I wasn’t joining either zines. Again I couldn’t even guess who the anons were but hey, could be your goons posing again. Just because a person liked it immediately meant it was an attack against you? Dude. Reaching aren’t we.

Some days I take a step back, and think. There were several different ways to have handled my harassment, and I was thinking one of those ways was the one you’re taking Snowy, and I can’t begin to imagine it, not even a little. Why? Because this is fucking insane behavior. I wouldn’t have begun to do something like this good gracious. If I made anyone uncomfortable last year anytime after my attempt or during all the hate anon messages, I genuinely didn’t mean to and I apologize. I appreciate more than anything that the lot of you gathered to help me during and afterwards. I’ll always be thankful.

I’m going to cut myself off here before I get pissed again, but one more thing.

F YOU SNOWY I FN KNEW ITBWAS YOU TALKING SHIT ABOUT QUINLAN. I don’t play about my characters and for you to mischaracterize them like this UGH JUST 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Please Leave me Alone

Hi, I’ve been sort of attempting to avoid making a post about this but due to numerous concerned individuals reaching out to me and the amount of receipts that I’ve been given regarding this I have to make one last attempt to address the person who has been doing this to me for the past few months.

I know what you’re doing, and you know it’s dishonest and wrong. This needs to stop. Targeting others and involving them in your personal drama just for interacting with me is unacceptable, and the misinformation and harassment have to end.

I’m giving you the chance to take accountability and tell the truth. If I continue to hear that this behavior is still happening, I’ll have no choice but to address it directly.

I’m not interested in some self-made competition for attention and the drama - I just want to share my love for this game and community together with my friends. Please leave me alone.

For the record: I have never, and will never, send anonymous hate to anyone - especially not over being queer or creating gay art. As a queer minority myself, I stand for marginalized communities and will always support safe, inclusive spaces for everyone.

It’s incredibly unfair to your friends as well, who you have most likely been feeding false versions of the story. It’s also unfair to pull completely uninvolved individuals trying to enjoy their time in this space into this especially when you know that this is untrue- then hide behind alt accounts and your friends, which will unfairly put them in a position where they have been defending someone who has been dishonest to them.

I wanted to believe that you were going through a rough spot and that it led you to doing this in a bad state of mind, but this is becoming excessive and I want you to please use this opportunity to reflect on this because you know what you have been doing is wrong and hurts everyone.