#sick and tired of the green fucking walls

[gglitch1dd]

Anger and Misunderstandings Pt 1 of 2

DILF Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Context: An anon had asked me what if we had Angry Dilf Izuku but one of his kids disrespected reader, like what happened with angry Dilf Katsuki. Sorry for losing your question Anon.

[PART 2 OF 2]

This was a very interesting one to write considering the fact that Izuku grew up with basically a single mother and we've never seen him seriously punish the boys..

Note: Disrespect, shouting, arguments, angst

You sighed as you looked at the dishes that were still not done. You moved a hand to the bridge of your nose. Asahi hadn't done his chores- again.

Ever since Toshinori had gone to UA, you started losing a grip on Asahi. He was normally a very good kid, overwhelmingly brilliant especially at mathematics. He was the smartest kid you knew and it could be frustrating whenever he was doing college level mathematics at the age of fourteen and you couldn't help him, but he was overall patient and rather stoic.

However, you weren't sure whether it was puberty getting to him, or maybe it was something you weren't aware of but, Asahi seemed to find whatever you said as not necessary. Almost as if he didn't respect anything you said nowadays. He always had his headphones on and refused to talk to you. When he entered the car when you picked him up or whether it was moving around the house it was almost as if you just trying to talk to him was an inconvenience in his life.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you moved to go upstairs to his room. You knocked on his door. "Asahi!" You called. But your son didn't answer. You knocked again. "Asahi!" He didn't answer.

With a sigh, you opened the door without confirmation and you saw your son sitting at his desk with his headphones on. Sensing that something had changed, he took off his headset and turned to you. He sat up with furrowed eyebrows, shocked that you would enter without his permission. "Mom!" He slipped off his headphones to rest on his neck.

"Asah, why haven't you done the dishes?" You asked as you folded your arms confused, ignoring his offended look.

He ignored your question as he paused the game he was busy playing. "Mom, what the hell! You can't just enter my room like that!"

You tilted your head to the side as you looked at him. "I can and I will. Now can you please get off of your PC and go do the dishes."

He rolled his eyes. "Please, mom, you can do the dishes." You stated as he turned back to look at his monitor.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's your chore, young man. It isn't mine." You reminded him, however Asahi ignored you as he slipped on his headset.

"Sorry guys, my mom's just being annoying." He stated deadpan with you still in the room.

You paused. You weren't sure whatever the hell was wrong with him but you wouldn't just stand there and take it. You walked over to the power switch, and flipped it to switch everything off. Immediate his screen went black, his green eyes widened in surprise before his head whipped to look at you. You stood with a serious expression as you stood back up straight.

He opened his arms out in shock and offense. "Mom what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Don't you swear at me!" You shouted back at him, deciding that maybe raising your voice wouldn't be a bad idea. "I am talking to you and you're not listening to me! I told you to go and was the dishes. Recently, you haven't been listening to me and I'm sick and tired of it." You told him.

"Mom, get out of my room."

"What?"

"I said," He stood up as he pointed a finger to the open door. "Get out of my fucking room! Jesus Christ, just let me breathe!" He shouted at you. You barely got to understand what was going on when you were being shoved out of his room. You felt his hands push you out. Next thing you know you just barely caught yourself out of his room before the door was slammed right after you. You heard the door lock, keeping you out.

You kept a hand to the wall as you tried to process what just happened.

"Mom?" Hero stood in the hallway with a concerned look on his face. He held a rugby ball in his hands as he looked between the door and you. He put down the ball and walked over to you. He took you by your arm as he helped you to stand straight and away from the wall. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You weren't sure how to answer him but you gave him a forced smile. "It's okay, honey. Thank you for helping me" You told him with a kiss to his forehead, pushing back his green curls. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows worried. "I just need to call your father for something. Do you mind doing the dishes for me?"

He shook his head with a smile. "Nope." He turned to head back downstairs. With a flick of his fingers, the rugby ball he was previously holding, floated back up to him and into his hands. He went back down the stairs.

You didn't move for a second but then you turned and you went into your room, closing the door behind you. You took out your phone and called Izuku.

"Hey, my love! You know, I don't know what new recipe you used for this muffin but it tastes spectacular!" He told you from the otherside of the line, you could hear him munching on the otherside which made you smile. "What's up?"

You opened your mouth to speak but suddenly you didn't have the words. You felt your throat close up and suddenly you couldn't speak. You felt tears burn at your eyes as you leaned against the wall closing your eyes. "Izuku..." It was all you could let out.

"What's wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt?" The change in tone was instantaneous and serious.

You shook your head but you knew he couldn't see you. "Izuku, I can't do this anymore." You whispered softly. "I don't know what I did wrong or why he suddenly hates me." You let the tears fall as you put a hand to your head.

"Who?"

"Asahi." You revealed to him.

You tried calming yourself down, taking deep breaths as to regulate your breathing. "Honey, just breathe for me. I want you to breathe and tell me what happened? Is he giving you a rough time again?"

You let out a shaky breath but then you told him everything he needed to know. You told him how Asahi had been behaving towards you and what he said to you today as well. You tried telling him without bursting into tears, but it was difficult, but Izuku listened. he listened until you were done with your story. He stayed silent the entire time.

You let out a small hiccup as you moved a hand to your face. "Hero is doing the dishes but... Izuku I don't know what to do."

Your husband didn't respond immediately, the line being silent. "Y/N."

"Yes?"

"I'm coming home. Stay there."

Without any other word for debate, Izuku put down the phone.

You had washed your face and effectively calmed down by the time that Izuku had come back. Koda was now in your room, having wanted to take a nap with you in your room, which had him and you snuggled up in bed together, his head on your lap as you were on the cusp of tired sleep.

The door to your bedroom, opened which revealed your husband who walked through the door with his workbag on his shoulder. He dropped his bag on the floor and walked over to you.

"Izuku." You let out softly. "You didn't have to cut your day short."

He walked over to your side of the bed, moving to put his hand to your face, his large hand was gentle as he cupped your cheek. "I did." He told you honestly. He looked over your face. "Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

You put your hand over his own with a gentle smile. "I'm fine." You informed him.

"Good." With that, you saw your husband's face harden as he moved back out of the room.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you carefully put Koda's head off of your lap and moved him into your arms. You carried him out of your room, figuring that you and Izuku might need to talk later, so you moved him to nap in his room, before following after Izuku. You closed the door so that he wouldn't be disturbed. Izuku moved to open Asahi's door but noticed it was locked. He frowned.

There had been a rule in your house on no locked doors that wasn't the master bedroom or the front door. Clearly that rule had been broken.

Izuku gripped the door handle again and it didn't take much effort with just a slight shock of power of One for All, that he broke the lock and opened the door, pushing in like it was nothing.

Asahi took off his headphones, but his eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of his father. Knowing that today was a long day and one that Izuku would typically be back in the evening. But then he noticed that his father was actually in his room and the lock wasn't still on. "Dad? What are you-"

"What did you say to your mother?"

"What?"

"Do not say 'what' to me. You heard me." You stayed out of the conversation between the both of them but you stayed by the door not wanting to come in. Izuku stood with his hands resting on his hips. Asahi was silent as he stared up at his dad. Izuku tilted his head. "Hm? You can disrespect your mother and shout at her but you can't talk to me? Talk to me like you talked to your mother." He motioned back to you. Asahi remained silent. Izuku frowned, green eyes dark and nothing but disapproval on his face. "Did you, or did you not talk back to my wife when she told you to do the dishes? I want an answer."

"I..." Asahi felt a ball in his throat as he looked down away from Izuku. "I did."

"Who are you talking to?"

He hesitated. "You, dad."

"And how do you address me?" He asked with a borderline scowl. Asahi kept his head down, not looking up at him. Izuku wasn't even shouting and yet you could feel the tension in the room.

"Sorry, sir."

Izuku let out a huff, satisfied with that answer. "Did you raise your voice at my wife?"

"I did, sir."

"Did you curse at my wife?"

"I did, sir."

"Did you slam the door on my wife? Did you lay a hand on my wife?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Izuku let out an amused cynical chuckle. "Are you?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "Because you didn't seem sorry when you did it. Let me remind you, of something, Asahi..." Izuku bent down to look at his son dead in the eye. He pointed back to you. "Before she is your mother, she is my wife. This is our house and you are going to respect that and you are going to respect her. If she tells you to do something, you do it. I don't want excuses or back chat, or anything coming out of you. She brought you into this world and she deserves your respect. Do you understand me?"

Asahi nodded his head as he looked away from his father, with a frown. "Yes, sir."

Izuku stood back up straight as he moved his hands to his hips. "Now where on earth did you get such an attitude from, because you sure as hell did not get it from me, nor did you get it from this family either. So where did you get it from?"

Asahi shrugged but kept quiet. He swallowed down not saying a word.

Izuku didn't like that. "You really don't know?" He didn't receive a response back. Izuku sighed as he nodded his head. "Okay."

Your husband moved from his spot as he reached over to unplug his computer from the wall. Asahi's eyes went wide as he stood up from his chair. "What are you doing?"

"You're being punished." Izuku said simply. Lifting up the PC, like it weighed nothing, picking it up off the table.

"Dad! That's not-" Asahi stopped talking as his father gave him a look that quickly shut him up.

Izuku paused as he looked at his son. "Not fair? Shouting at your mother in her own house is not fair." He turned and put the PC outside of Asahi's room before dusting his hands and looking back to your fourteen year old son.

"But my friends talk like that all the time." He reasoned.

Bingo.

Izuku tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Well you need new friends, Asahi because that isn't the way we talk to adults, nevertheless the ones that are the reason for your existence. What does it matter what your friends think?"

Asahi frowned, clearly angry with what his father had said. "Dad, you don't know what it's like to be in school! I'm the youngest one in my class and I'm quirkless!" He put his hand to his chest. "I'm not like Toshinori that can just be like you and have an amazing quirk and have friends! You don't know what it's like to be quirkless!"

"I do know what it's like!" Your husband expressed, with urgency. Seeing a piece of his young middle school self in his son. "I know what it's like to be bullied and rejected for being different, but I never disrespected my parents because of it."

"How would you know? You don't know how it feels to have you as a dad! You don't know how it feels like to have a dad at all!" The moment the words flew out of his mouth, he instantly regretted it.

Your face fell in shock, as you quickly put a hand over your mouth in shock. Izuku didn't move, but his face fell of all emotion. Not a hint of sympathy, empathy or even anger. He was emotionless.

You quickly entered the room and you put a hand to Izuku's arm. You took his hand in your own as you tugged him backwards, towards the door. "He didn't mean it." You told him softly. However, your husband didn't look at you, as he looked at Asahi.

Asahi hesitated. "Dad-"

Izuku raised a finger, indicating that he didn't want to hear it. A shaky breath left your husband and you moved to hold onto his arm. Izuku closed his eyes but moved to pull you into his side, moving to have you pushed into his side as he took a moment.

Izuku took a few seconds, before finally giving a response. "Pack your bags." He spoke void of emotions. Asahi's face fell in fear. "You're going to stay with your grandma this weekend. I... I am not angry with you, I am just deeply disappointed in you. I think we all need time to think and re-evaluate this conversation and to be away. Just for the weekend." Leaving nothing more to the conversation, your husband turned and went out of the room.

Nothing was said for a moment as you both watched Izuku leave. You turned back to look at your son, not entirely sure what to say yourself.

Asahi looked to you. "Mom... Mom you've got to-" Asahi stepped towards you but froze. He watched you step a step back in caution, almost as if you were afraid he was going to push you again. You didn't think to do it. It was an automatic response. However, Asahi saw it. You had never stepped away from him before. Tears brimmed at his eyes. "Mom..."

You let out a breath, not sure how to tackle this. You swallowed down hard and turned to leave the room. "Just please, pack your bags for the weekend. I'm sure your grandma would be glad to have you. Just..." You hesitated. "Just be nice to her. You know how gentle she is. I'll be back to help you pack." You moved to follow after Izuku.

Your husband was back in your shared bedroom. You closed the door behind you as you turned to look at him, his hands covered his face as he sat there, motionless. Your own eyebrows furrowed but you walked towards him. You moved to thread your hands through his hair, standing between his legs.

At the feeling of your embrace. He moved to wrap his arms around you, burying is face by your stomach. You heard stuttering breaths. He held onto you tightly, almost as if you would disappear. You were both silent as you existed together for a moment. You carefully crawled into his lap, allowing him to move so that he could bury his face in your neck as he held you in his arms.

You placed a kiss to his neck as you pulled a hand through his hair. "You made a good decision." You told him softly.

Izuku was silent for a second. "I hate what he said."

"I know."

"I was so fucking angry. Y/N, I could have-"

"I know." You nodded your head with a soft whisper. You rubbed his back. "But you didn't. That's what makes you a good man, and a good father too." You reminded him.

He nodded his head with a stuttered breath but you held him. Suddenly you felt soft gentle kisses to your neck.

You paused. "Izuku..."

"Please." He whispered softly. "I don't want to think right now." He confessed. You felt one hand snake underneath your shirt as he crawled up your back. "Please..." He asked.

You couldn't deny that it was tempting and you couldn't deny it yourself. You sighed and nodded. "Okay." You allowed it, moving his face up to look at you, eyes red with tears. He kissed you and you kissed him back.

-Glitch1d

[Midoriya Izuku Masterlist]

#izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #izuku x reader #dilf mha #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf deku #dilf midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #bnha #mha #Midoriya Family Shenanigans

[levitiquee]

Hiii! Idk if you accept requests but I decided to try and ask you anyway… I’ve read an amazing fan fiction in which Levi and the reader were secretly together and the reader was his lieutenant… Sooo, could I ask a Levi x lieutenant reader were the reader gets injured while outside the walls and like, Levi can’t show he cares too much cause he’s like “cold ice captain Levi” but he’s like worried for her?

I’ve been a lil sick lately and I wanted to cheer myself up a bit… Thank youuu! ❤️❤️

Hiii, I hope you're feeling better now, love <33

Levi pulled on the reins, coming to a stop in front of Erwin.

"All back?" He asked, glancing around the scouts spread all around.

"Almost." Erwin replied, giving a slight nod of acknowledgement to Levi. "Just recovering the fallen."

This was the worst part, Levi thought. After the expeditions. People die during, that was known. But it doesn't really sink in when you're more focused on saving your own life. But after, once it's all over and time to go back, when you're wrapping your friends' remains in the white fabric, it finally hits. All that you've lost and gained almost nothing in return.

He watched the slumped figures of the survivors. They fought hard to make it out, but their faces showed no sign of relief, only guilt. Blank, empty and tired expressions. They've seen it before and yet, they never get used to it.

He stared at Petra, who was comforting a younger scout, possibly a new recruit. The latter was green, eyes red rimmed. Gunther stood by, watching the two with a grim expression.

Levi looked away. What an unpleasant sight.

But where were you?

He only realized then, why he felt so uneasy. There was a strange emptiness surrounding him but he had been too absorbed into the mission to spare much attention to it. But now in the calm after the storm, he realized it was the lack of you.

You weren't with him.

But you were always there with him. Why weren't you now?

Levi frowned. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen you or even when you slipped away. He had just assumed you were by him, as always.

But how long had you been gone and he hadn't realized it?

"Medics!" A sharp yell jolted him out of his thoughts. "Medics over here!"

He turned around towards the sound. It was Moblit, running towards him, face scrunched up in concern. And he was holding something, something bloody, something limp, something.... someone?

And he realized when Moblit's eyes locked onto his, the usually calm man's eyes were wide, panic stricken.

In Moblit's arms were you.

And for a second he didn't move. He couldn't move.

He stared, blurred figures rushing past him towards you as Moblit laid you and your face came into view. And he could only stare, his heart going quieter..and quieter..

Time had stopped around him.

Blood pounded in his ears.

And slowly, hesitantly, he slid down his horse, and the feel of the ground beneath his feet finally kicked start his heart.

Sounds crashed to him like a wave, drowning him.

And his legs moved, unwillingly, every nerve in his body warning him to turn away, to walk away, because the sight would only confirm it.

But not you. It couldn't have been you.

You were with him, just hours ago.

It can't have been you.

Yet when he heard the sound of your name, hushed whispers coming from the crown, he knew it was you.

He finally reached the small crowd of people, they immediately backed away, parting a way at his arrival. Murmurs brushed past, but he could hardly focus on the words.

There you laid, head resting on one of the medics' lap as they tried their best to fix you, wrapping bandages hastily around your head. The grass underneath you was scarlet–with your blood, he realized. Your blood. You were bleeding. Uncontrollably. Why were you bleeding how could you be bleeding you weren't supposed to be fucking bleeding—

"Captain!" Petra's alarmed voice reached his ears and he turned his head towards her, who had her mouth covered by her hands, eyes wide. "Captain, the blood–it's too much—"

"How the hell did this even happen–" Oruo let out a curse under his breath. "Wasn't the idiot supposed to be with captain–"

Levi swallowed, fingers digging into his palm.

You were supposed to be with him.

Not wrapped in bandages. Not lying in a pool of your own blood.

And as if you had somehow heard his thoughts, you opened your eyes, just a crack. They flickered rapidly, hazy gaze frantically moving as if searching for something. And then it landed on him and a ragged sigh of relief brushed past your lips.

"...Levi?" A whisper.

And then your eyes fell shut again.

Silence fell. Levi stiffened, staring straight at your face. People were rigid and even the medics froze. Eyes bounced from your face to Levi's, whether it was just delirious ramble, the direct address to the captain had shocked everyone.

Levi didn't say anything. And even if he was surprised, his face showed no sign of it, it was as blank and expressionless as it had always been.

Not a single crack in his composure to see one of his most important soldiers lying on their deathbed.

Levi only shot a glance at one of the medics, raising a brow.

"Sir," The white clad figure hastened to speak, immediately understanding the gesture. "We stopped the bleeding. It should be alright. Though when she'd regain consciousness again.."

Levi nodded, turning on his heels and walking away, leaving the crowd gaping at him.

"Weren't they close? Friends even?" He heard soft murmurs. "He looks barely fazed."

"That's captain Levi. What did you expect?" Another hissed.

"Levi." Erwin was staring at him as he slid back up to his horse, the question clear underneath the statement.

"She'll live." Levi replied tonelessly.

-

"Captain."

Levi froze, snapping his head towards the familiar, familiar voice.

There you were, standing besides Hange. You only gave a slight nod while Hange grinned, waving at him.

"Look, look, Levi!" Hange beamed, pointing at you. "She's all better now, aren't you glad?"

Levi stared at you, eyes scanning your face. Dark circles framed your eyes and your face was ashened. Your head was still wrapped in bandages but it seemed you're well enough to move now, to at least be released from the hospital.

He hadn't seen you for 2 weeks.

And Levi wasn't just glad, he was fucking relieved, but his face showed no sign of it, as expressionless as ever. As if he could hardly care.

"Well, you look like shit." He said, his voice flat.

There was a glimmer of amusement behind your eyes but you bit back the grin. "Pleasure as always, captain." You replied politely.

Hange was more offended than you. They gaped at Levi, horrified. "Oi Levi," They gasped. "Can't you be nicer? Kid almost died, for walls sake."

Levi glanced at Hange, eyes blank. "Well, she's walking around just fine."

"But—" Hange protested, but he turned to you.

"You." He said, frowning.

"Yes, sir?" You asked.

"Get back to work as soon as you can. You're already lagging behind." He said, turning to leave.

"Hey—that's all you got to say?!" Hange yelled at him as he walked out of sight. "He's so weird. And rude too." They murmered, glancing at you. "I don't even know why you're in his squad. He treats you like shit. You can come join my squad you know?"

"He treats everyone like shit, Hange." You shrugged, your eyes still towards the way he left. "That's captain Levi for you."

-

You were walking down a corridor when a door creaked open besides you. And before you could even realize, something wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the small dark room.

And then arms wrapped around you, trapping you in a strong embrace, almost suffocating you. You would've been scared had you not recognized his scent.

You coughed, caught off guard by the sudden grip. You lightly tapped against his arms. "Capt—Levi." You spluttered. "This is very sweet and shit, but I need air."

He let you go, but his hands still gripped your shoulders hard.

"You fucking idiot." He hissed. "How the fuck did you even get hurt?"

"You're so nice to me." You grumbled, not without a hint of affection.

"I'm serious. Do you have any fucking idea how worried I was?"

"No, sorry. I was busy being half-dead."

"Don't." He sighed, his voice returning back to his usual volume. He sounded exhausted. "Don't even joke about that."

"The broom closet? Really?" You grinned, looking around to realize what the tiny space was.

He scrunched his face. "Don't blame me." He said. "Why is Hange always following you, christ. Are you my squad member or theirs? I had to wait all fucking day to get you alone."

"You really could've just called me to your office—"

"With the brats piping in every 10 seconds? There's no privacy in this damn facility." He huffed.

The darkness was finally starting to settle over your eyes and now that you had a better chance to look at him more carefully, you realized, he looked exhausted.

"I've been away for a few days and you look like you're about to drop dead." You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Guess who's fucking fault that is?"

"Awh, you couldn't sleep cause you were worried about me?" You smiled.

"Don't look so smug." He said, but didn't deny it.

"So worried, but you didn't even visit me for all of 2 weeks I've been stuck in the hospital."

"Because you're always surrounded by people." He said exasperatedly. "Whenever I went. It's always Nanaba, or Hange. Petra."

"Yeah but, you could've just peeked by—" You said, almost sadly. "I missed you."

He sighed. "People would've talked."

You pouted. "A captain visiting his half dead lieutenant, oh the scandal."

He looked at you, noticing your expression. He frustratedly ran his hands through his hair, frowning.

"Believe me, I wanted to." He mumbled. "But I'm afraid I surely would've caused a scandal."

"Yes?" Your mouth tugged slightly, your sad face giving out.

"Don't think I could've resisted kissing the shit out of you." He sighed, face flushing at the admission. "Holy shit, I was so scared."

" 'Humanity's strongest' has questionable self-control it appears." You raised a brow.

"When it's you?" He shook his head, leaning to press his forehead against yours. And when he closed his eyes, his long lashes almost touched your face. "Walls, I'm pathetic."

You grinned, patting his head.

"Missed you." He mumbled quietly, his breathing was slow, shoulders relaxed. As if with you was the only ever time he could breathe properly.

"Missed you too." You said softly.

And for a few seconds, you two just stood there, in a peaceful silence, listening to each other breath and breathing in the presence of each other.

And then the bliss was gone.

"Has anyone seen captain Levi?" A voice floated in through the crack of the door. "He's not in his office."

"Fucking hell." Levi cursed under his breath, raising his head.

"You better go." You giggled silently, shoulders shaking. "You don't want them finding you here, do you?"

Levi cringed internally, but stood up straight, brushing his clothes. "I swear if it isn't something important..." He muttered, daekly. Then looked up at you. "As for you, drop by my office later tonight. You need to catch up on your work." He spared a glance at you.

"I assure you, captain, lots of work would be done." You grinned, giving him a mock two-finger salute.

He grimaced, but his face flushed.

"Also." He reached for the doorknob. "Next time in an expedition you leave my side, I'm breaking your fucking legs."

@sad-darksoul @anxious-chick @raginginferno267

#i'm lazy #is this weird #kind of ooc? #aot #levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi heichou #snk #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fandom #captain levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi fluff #levi thoughts

[coeurify]

perfect girl II | ellie williams.

tlou2 ellie williams x fem!reader. college modern au universe. part one here. part three here. not heavily proofread. 6.6k words

after the first time you hooked up, resident university dealer ellie williams cant keep away from you, despite your avoidance.

this has smut, 18+ only. mean!reader , mean!ellie. sort of dom/sub dynamics. name calling, lots of fighting. they fuck instead of talking through the tension. oral!ellie receiving, thigh riding!reader receiving. slight choking. just lots of filth.

It had been two weeks. Fourteen days to be exact. 3 parties had passed by that time. You went to none of them.

Two weeks after you walked out of that room from that frat party, tugging your skirt down and avoiding as many prying eyes as you could until you were out the door, a certain university drug dealer hot on your tail.

Fourteen days since you let Ellie leave you at the door of your sorority with nothing more than a thank you for getting you home. The cold walk back to campus had been enough to send you into avoidance mode. You slept alone that night, and dreamt of what happened. Over and over.

Three parties passed, and you avoided going to each one. One was a day after the incident, and you used the excuse of studying to hide out in your room with a sweatshirt that covered the marks on your neck. Mostly however it was so you didn’t have to meet her eyes.

The second and third party you avoided were last weekend’s. You got side eyes from certain sorority sisters when you denied going— this time under the guise of being sick. Really though, you were sick. Sick from the way that stupid green eyed girl would not leave your mind. Sick of revisiting how it felt to be putty in her fucking hands. How it felt to be so close to her, the sound of her fingers moving through your folds. It never left your mind.

It was ridiculous, you had told yourself that over and over. She wasn’t worth your time of day. Was not worthy of the space in your mind she occupied. But it didn’t help. You still found every waking moment consumed by her.

By the time of tonight's party, what would be the fourth you had bailed on.. only Dina popped her head in to ask you to go. Of course you refused, which now left you in the almost completely empty sorority house.

Maybe it made you a bad sorority member to do this, to avoid what was essentially your duty. But none of the girls wanted to deal with your ever growing attitude and sharp glares when it was brought up. So you were not poked and prodded for answers to your sudden refusal.

Currently laying on your bed, you rubbed a hand over your tired eyes. The blanket beneath you shifted as you turned, annoying you. You needed to find a distraction— something to keep your mind from wandering to wondering what a certain somebody might be doing at the party happening right now. You found yourself surveying your room in search of anything to clean to appease this.

The lights dangling across your walls lit the small area a warm golden, showcasing the neat and clean walls and dressers. You barely had anything hanging from your walls.. spare a few photos and a calendar labeled with pink pen marks. Not a single thing was out of place or messy. Just like your appearance, you pride yourself on an absolutely perfect living space. Books tucked into shelves by color. Clothes hung in your closet by type and size. Even your desk had no sign you were an overly stressed university student.

You raise yourself from the plush pillow on your bed, tying your hair into a neat ponytail as you stand. You get to work quickly. You rearrange the soft colored comforter to be even.. styling the pillows to appear untouched. It wasn’t like anyone would ever see it, but the perfection of it all gave you a sense of calm nothing else could.

Looking too long made you think of the dark blue blanket on that bed, on being fucked into the much stiffer mattress. God, the thought made shame boil up in your stomach. Unable to tell if that shame came from the act itself or the absolute zero contact that followed it. Not wanting to think about it, you move to the desk in your room, grabbing a folder to tuck it away.

The only noise is the wooden floorboard that creaks under your feet— otherwise completely silent. There aren't many times like this when you live in a house full of young adult women, so you welcome the silence happily.

However, it isn’t quiet for long. You can hear the telltale sound of the large wooden door up front slamming open. It springs a frown to your face as you quickly glance at the small alarm clock on your desk. It was only around Ten, no way were the girls home already.

The noise continues, footsteps much too noisy to be any of your friends stomping up the stairs and down the hallway. You pause as they get closer.

A million options race your mind at what may be happening. Dina coming home early after a fight with her boyfriend Jesse. Another member sneaking a boy into her room (which was heavily against the rules from your sorority leaders..). Maybe even an axe murderer. When they harshly knock at your door, you begin to lean toward the third option.

Not a single pocket of your mind however thought of what came next.

“Open your door.”

It’s loud and angry sounding, and very obviously Ellie’s voice.

The folder in your hand drops to the ground, and you scramble to pick it up as quietly as possible. You don’t answer at first, though you guess she could have heard the squeak that passed your lips when her fist slammed again on the door.

“I know you’re in that room. Your name is on the fucking door, just open it.”

The tone leaves little room for you to get out of the situation, so you instead quickly tug your sleep shorts down to cover more of your thighs and walk to the door. Taking a deep breath in to compose yourself, you shuffle slightly. You do your best to fall into that attitude you always had with her as your fingers graze the doorknob. But it’s a bit harder this time to play the stone cold bitch when all that annoyance had been replaced with a sickening sort of need that you tried desperately to ignore.

Still, you put a tight lipped frown on your face as you open the door. “What the fuck do you want Ellie?”

Ellie looks at you, still wearing her jacket and backpack she brought to parties to sell her weed. She looked good, even dressed as messily as this. The backpack clued you into the fact she may have left the party, but you can’t fathom why.

Her cheeks are a shade of red that you hadn’t ever seen before. Her lip is bitten raw— which makes you queasy if you think about it too long. Her hair is tugged into that style that you so desperately hate again. It’s the first time in weeks you had seen her face, and it all makes you so dizzy.

“What the fuck do I want? That's how you wanna greet me after this shit?” Ellie scoffed, pulling you out of your mind. “Let me in your room.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms and standing directly in front of the gap in the door.

“Let me in the room or I swear to fucking god I will scream so loud everyone on the block will know i’m here.”

The childish comment makes you roll your eyes, comforting yourself in the familiar fire it brings about. You settle into it easily, like a blanket over frozen skin. It's much easier than whatever your emotion surrounding her has been lately. You can work with this. You can keep her away with this.

“Fine, but you can’t have that in my room, it smells like weed.” You motion your head to her bag, still vehemently against that awful smell that you had grown accustomed to smelling on her the past months.

Ellie was not exactly in the mood to take orders from you, as the weeks of anger from your ghosting was now spilling over like boiling water in a pot. Ever since that night she had been tightly wound up. Your missing appearances at the parties only made it worse.

But still she shrugged the backpack off of her shoulders, harshly shoving it to the ground outside your door and stepping in as you tried to protest the sorority girls seeing it.

She didn’t listen to any of your words, slamming the door shut behind you two, taking in your room with a quick glance. “Tell me why you’re avoiding the parties.”

Having Ellie in your space made you itchy all over— you picked at the skin of your nails to calm yourself. You eyed the way she stepped, watched her look around at your belongings. Of course you didn’t answer her question . “Can you avoid the rug if you aren’t gonna take off your shoes? It’s white.”

Ellie looked at you straight in the eyes as she raised her foot and stepped onto the carpet. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Answer my fucking question.”

“Get off my fucking carpet,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest again. You were both being childish now, a trait that only seemed to come out of you around her.

Ellie again went directly against what you asked. Instead stepping over your carpet again to make her way toward your neatly tucked in bed. She looked at the colors there, gentle pastels and whites. It doesn’t surprise her. Just as soft as you. But that also isn’t what she's here to focus on.

“Answer me,” she asks again, this time just a tad softer.

You refuse to meet her eyes— instead moving to finally put your folder back in its place on your shelf. You stay silent as your mind works through what to say next.

“Are those fucking color coded?”

You shoot a glare at Ellie, but it doesn’t work on her. It never really has. She doesn’t look away like any other college kid would around you. She just looks straight back.

“I’m sick Ellie, that's why I haven’t been to parties. I also happen to actually care about my grades and studying unlike you.”

The jab falls from you too easily. You almost feel bad for it, but Ellie doesn’t seem phased. She looks at the pictures near your bed, and then back to you. Standing directly across from you now, she takes another moment to answer.

“That’s bullshit and you and I both know it.”

Shrugging, you turn back to your desk. “Don't know what you mean. I have no reason to lie.”

You can hear Ellie make a noise behind you, and you just know she’s shaking her head in that disbelieving way.

“No reason, really Y/N?” Her voice is near now— almost like she’s stepping closer. You breathe in sharply and try to busy yourself fixing pens on your desk. Her calling you by name almost shakes you as much as her being here in the first place. No nicknames you claimed to hate.. just a harsh tone.

You can’t answer, shaking your head. You just need a moment to collect yourself, to find something inside that can make you strong enough to face her and tell her to get the fuck out.

You are not given that chance, a wandering hand moving to the hem of your tanktop to stop you from moving. It makes the top feel much too revealing now, goosebumps popping up on your arms immediately. The hand moved to turn you around. You go without a fight. But your palms grip the wood of the desk behind you when you are met with Ellie’s close by frame. It feels too reminiscent of you pressed against the edge of that bed in the frat house. You focus your eyes behind her to at least find solace in not having to meet her gaze.

“Nothing of importance happened at the last party you went to?” She pried, “Nothing to make you nervous to go to the next?”

“Nope.”

Ellie seemed to absolutely hate that answer, rolling her eyes and letting her hand fall from its place on your skin.

“Still a bitch I see. You leave me on your doorstep after I fuck you, and then completely avoid me for weeks? Now you have the damn nerve to act like none of it happened?”

The way she says the words makes you want to fall in on yourself. Ellie sounds angry still, undoubtedly. But there’s something else there.. something that sounds like hurt.

“It was just a hookup, Ellie. You have no right to show up here. You said I needed to get laid, so I got laid. Didn’t think it was mind blowing enough to warrant a response like this.” You motion to her.

The words are said in an even tone— desperately trying to cling to any semblance of nonchalantness. But it's mean, you know that. To act like it meant little more than if you had jumped the bones of one of those frat boys who clawed after you. It was harsh to act like that hadn’t been the best fucking sex of your life. But mean and harsh was what you were best at when it came to Ellie.

The sentence didn’t have the intended effect on Ellie though, who knew your tricks too well to actually feel wounded. No, it just made her more fucking frustrated with you. On how you could try and deny how much of a mess she had made you. There was no way you had forgotten, she sure as hell hadn't. “Right. Not mind blowing enough but it made you run scared from any party I may be at.”

“You think too highly of yourself Ellie. It hasn’t crossed my mind once.” It’s obviously a lie as soon as you say it. The way your voice wavers enough for Ellie to pick up on leaves no room to deny it.

She watches you, jaw tensing. Her eyes shift around and you can tell she’s mulling over her next decision.

When she finally speaks, it's in an annoyingly high pitched tone. “Oh Ellie please touch me,” she begins taunting.

You shove her away quickly, a fast flame rising in your stomach. You know exactly what she’s doing. How could you forget those words?

She doesn’t stop, placing a hand on her chest as she continues to speak. “No one else ellie,” she pulls out a faux moan that makes you want to slam your head into the desk. “Wanna make you feel good, el..” she continues to recount your own words back at you in a whiny tone.

It works, the mocking she’s doing. Shame bubbles up in you and pulls at each nerve on your body. You feel hot all over, stomach churning and feet pressing heavily into the floor under you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you demand, slapping her arm as you puff little angry breaths out. Her posture is less tight now, the embarrassing joke seeming to calm her. Of course it did.

Ellie doesn’t stop, the sting of the slap only drawing her close to you again. A smile dawns on her freckled face as she continues her teasing. The quick switch from steadily angry and serious to this.. it throws you for a loop.

“Had you fucking crying for me, princess. Now you wanna act like it was some subpar hookup?”

Your mind tries to straighten out your thoughts, pick through your brain to find a worthy retaliation. But there is none. She had you snared tightly in this trap. You had no fucking way out. No snarky remark could free you from the powerless feeling currently falling over you. Your heart pulses under your tight chest and you can only manage a scoff in response.

It amuses Ellie enough to draw a laugh from her. One completely at your expense. “What? Can’t deny it?”

When you resort to silence and a mean look, Ellie smiles widely. “Don’t even need you to say it, I got the answer I was looking for. Its driving you fucking crazy that you liked it so much? Right? Can’t stop thinking about it?” Her feet drag closer, finger moving to grace over the goosebumps on your arm. “Avoid coming to parties ‘cause you know I’ll be there right baby?”

The way she coo’s the pet name makes you want to wobble. But you refuse to give in.

“Too scared you’d want me again? That it wouldn’t even take you ten minutes to be begging at my feet to steal you off to a bedroom?”

You try to turn your chin away and avoid her seeing your blush, but she grabs your face so you have to look at her.

“You know how easy it was to make you all pathetic, princess? You knew it wouldn’t be hard to get you all whiny like that again, Didn’t you?”

You shake your head to deny it, but the way you tremble under her touch gives it away.

“I should leave you here, you know? Get you all worked up then walk off. Just like you did to me.”

Something blossoms in you to hear her admit you got her worked up. That you had affected her even a fraction as much as she had to you. You swallow it down like nails in your throat, gulping.

She pauses her constant stream of taunts to look down at your shirt and shorts. So pretty and expensive. So you. Now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably.

“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.” She’s speaking lowly— cutting off her words before they can seem desperate. She wants this just as badly as you try to deny you do, and you know that. You know you have a moment to decide your next course of action. To scream at her to get off you, to kick her to the curb and protect yourself from the mess sure to follow whatever would happen. You knew there was no going back if you did this again.

You don’t. You don’t say a single fucking thing. And that’s plenty of an answer for Ellie. She moves quickly to remove the hand from your chin— instead moving it to your shoulder. “Get on your knees.”

The demand finally gets words out of you, eyebrows furrowing. “Huh?”

“Get on your knees.” she repeats. Ellie’s tone is harsh again, back to whatever space she seems to enter around you. She pushes you a bit— showing exactly what she wants you to do.

It doesn’t take much of a shove to fall to the hard wood of the floor. She didn’t even move you to the carpet. Fucking dick.

You try to bite back the overwhelming shame it gives you to look up under your lashes at Ellie. She watches you, waiting for you to adjust as she walks around you to lean against the desk.

“You remember what you said before I took you home? That you wanted to make me feel good?” Ellie hums, tilting her head down at you.

“Stop bringing that up,” you grit.

“You aren’t exactly in the position to be making demands, princess.” She brings her foot forward to tap your knees gently.. reminding you of the fact you are quite literally beneath her.

“You owe me, got me so fucking worked up y’know?” Her hand moves down to work on the button of her old jeans. The realization of what was coming shakes you, heart jumping into your throat.

You don’t answer, instead watching as she motions to you. “C'mere baby, take my pants off for me.”

It feels demeaning, the way you crawl forward slightly to be directly at her feet. Staring at her, you make a small groan, hoping she may spare the embarrassment.

It was embarrassing nonetheless, even more so when she shook her head and again motioned for you to move. It made you sick how easily you had fallen to your knees. Figuratively and literally. How quickly she had coaxed submission out of your usually stubborn demeanor was almost pathetic. You do it anyway, manicured fingers raising to the denim and pulling it down with a blush. You pull them from her legs and watch as she kicks them into a pile with her shoes. On top of your white carpet of course.

You look up at her again, watching as her expression changes at this sight. “So fuckin pretty on your knees for me baby.”

The praise makes you squirm— the warmth now radiating into your lower belly.

“Want you to make me feel better. Think I deserve that after you leave me high and dry hm?”

It’s true, even more so than you would like to admit. It was a total asshole move to ghost her after both of you implied there would be something more. Right now it isn’t a very serious dig— not when she knows what's coming.. but it still has you feeling desperate to make up for it.

It takes a lot to force the next words out of your throat, “Yea.” The one word feels like admitting you were wrong, that she had the power. So it's hard to say, still ruled by the embarrassment all of this situation brings.

She debates forcing you to say more, but you still seem to be only dipping into that pool of submission you had been in last time.. so she gives you a moment.

“Want you to let me fuck your face, can you do that for me?”

You want to stand up right then. You want to refuse to do something so degrading, you want to ignore the way the words make you feel. But you can’t. Not right now. Not for her.

However she won't get an answer out of you, just a nod of permission. The silence annoys her, hand moving to pull at your tied up hair in response despite promising herself a slow start. “Stop the silent act, answer me. Tell me you want this.”

You clench your jaw, not ready to give in. When she gives another tug to your hair, this one harsh enough to pull a yelp from you.. it makes you change your mind.

“Yes Els, I want this, I want to make you feel good.”

The words start off quietly, still finding your footing to avoid burning alive from embarrassment. But as you continue, as you watch the way she seems so pleased to hear it.. It becomes easier. It's more natural when you add in another, “please.”

How she had this pretty little stuck up sorority girl wrapped around her finger was enough to make her wet, but the way you stared up at her, mouth slightly agape upon seeing the black boxers she was wearing, god did it make it even better.

“Alright princess, open your mouth ‘n stick out your tongue for me,” Ellie requests, pulling her boxers off as you do so. It feels too wrong to steal any glance at her body.. despite how you wanted to. It was more than you had ever seen, as she was completely dressed when she had gotten you in a position like this before. Surprisingly having been the put together one in that situation.. and you had an inkling it would end similarly today.

But you can't help it, eyes following her movement as you come eye to eye with her glistening centre. If you had been more mouthy still- you would have made a comment about how wet she was. But the sight renders you speechless. Licking your lips as you squeeze your own thighs together. “Ready?” she asks— tone too even, mouth too harshly pulled into a straight line. The auburn haired girl is trying far too hard to act unaffected by you under her.

Her tattooed hand grips your hair even tighter, a burning sensation pulsing through your scalp as she pulls you closer. You welcome the pain and the dizzying sort of calm it lulls you into. Nodding, you open your mouth again to please her.

Another second passes and then she’s pressing down into you, your nose bumping her throbbing clit. It again makes another pulse of confidence run through you at the undeniable sign she needed this. Needed you.

You make quick work of kitten licking over her slit, happily drinking down the wetness there. You hear small grunts above you, and know you’re doing the right thing as you press your face further in to collect more of her taste on your tongue. You don’t care that your knees already hurt, or about the pain in your neck from leaning it back this much. Ellie certainly didn’t either as she began rocking against your lips. She trembles over you as your nose bumps into her clit again.

“Fuck, shoulda done this earlier. So much better with your mouth like this. No bitchy comments to make, hm?” Ellie says into the air, trying to hold back noises. Your eyes catch as she tilts her head back and speeds up her pace though. You flatten your tongue against her, letting her take control now.

“Shit,” she grunts again, face screwing up as she pulls your hair back and forth to move with her. Your comfortability goes completely out of the window when her stomach starts to tighten. Ellie is moving harshly against you, not caring that she's spreading her wetness all across your chin and mouth— not stopping when you start to gasp for air.

Your nails move to grip into her thigh, leaving little crescent moon shapes there. It doesn’t slow her down, more continuous grunts falling from her bitten lips. Desperate to hear more of the sounds you suck up the suffocating feeling. If you were to die here, it would be fucking happily. You continued to try your best to lap at her even with the rapid movements.

Her hips stutter, finally pushing a full moan out of her. It’s music to your ears, ringing through your mind. “Jesus, baby,” she continues, pausing on her words for another moan. You hear a slight whine there, one that makes you go unsteady. “Just like that princess, gonna come in your mouth. Fuck, I cant believe i got you like this.”

The blunt and dirty words make you whine against her, begging with more scratches down her thighs for it. for her.

Seeing you worked up over just giving her pleasure, it sends that final shockwave through her and her hips completely stop. She pulls on your hair with her fist enough for you to cry out as she works herself through the orgasm. She rocks her hips slowly for a few seconds after that, watching on as you try desperately to collect all that you can from her slit. It almost makes her come again to see it. To see how obsessed you are with her. How you searched for more

When she pulls you back by your ponytail, your chin is shiny with her. You want to complain, want to press forward and make her come again. But you can't make any words, not when she breathes out to steady her chest. Not when her hands shake as they let your hair go, moving to pull up her boxers. It tilts your universe completely off axis to see her so close to crumbling, so Un-Ellie like. You wonder if this is how she feels when you fall apart for her. You don't have long to pause on this thought before Ellie is forcing you up onto your feet, laughing when you stumble like a newborn deer.

“Ya look so messy,” she compliments, wiping a hand to clean your chin. Her green eyes meet your glistening lips, and watches as you suck the bottom one between your teeth. It drives her crazy, something telling her she may be addicted to making you fall into a state like this. Just like she had in that frat party.

“Should I leave you like this? Go have a smoke and let you get off on your own?” Ellie questions, moreso to herself. She really should, as a lesson for you. To get back at you for the last time. But god, the way you look at her, completely ready to listen.. How can she resist?

“Fuck you,” you bite— only making her smile more. There you were, even under all that cloudiness Ellie brought over you.. your attitude was still there.

“You just did, pretty,” her finger rubs over your splotchy cheek, no doubt a result from the air you were not getting when your face was pressed between her thighs.

“Ellie..” you mumble, beginning to actually worry she would leave. She had every right to. But the wetness you feel in your panties, the burn between your thighs.. it's making you ready to get on your knees again to beg.

She sighs, walking across your floor until she hits your bed, tumbling back on it. “Hm?”

“Im-” you puff air into your cheeks for a long breath, following her like a lost puppy. It brings that addicting feeling of power back into Ellie’s body, and she lounges herself comfortably on your comforter. “You're what.. tell me..” she tilts her head.

“Ellie cmon,” you can't help the whine to your voice. “I need you.” You mumble as you crawl onto your bed and on top of her. The sight amuses Ellie, who watches you with little interest.

“Dunno, I'm pretty tired,” Ellie shrugs, stretching out and leaning against your pillows. You fight the urge to tell her off for it, much more focused on getting rid of the ache between your legs. you pout, unable to stop it. “El..” you are full out whining now— only further egged on into your desperation when she lets you move to straddle her waiting lap. You want to start moving immediately, but something deeper in you tells you to stay put until Ellie gives you anything.

“I could really go for a joint right now, honestly..” she trails off, meeting your gaze. “Fuck off,” you cant help but say— clawing at your own shirt. You pull it off, tossing it messily onto your floor. It makes your stomach twist for a split second, not taking it to the hamper. But that wasn’t exactly top priority. When the air hits your nipples they hardern immediately, drawing Ellie’s attention.

The green eyed girl’s jaw clicks at your insult, and at how you had shoved your shirt off before she could. She was getting there, really. But you were too impatient, like always.

“I'm not getting you off,” she finally decides, clearly speaking. But she still reaches forward to run a thumb over your peaked nipple, making you involuntarily buck into her. The feeling of your center finding friction on her lap pulls a small sound from you. Ellie hums at how responsive you are, “But you can.”

You aren’t quite sure what she means, but hands quickly come to shift you onto only one of her thighs.. and you quickly understand. “You wanna get off baby? Ride my thigh. Get off all on your own.”

Ellie yawns like she couldn’t care less, leaning back and watching you, fingers rubbing circles on your hips.

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you whine, unhappy you were not getting your own way. Ellie shrugs again, and you want to wipe the pleased look off of her freckled cheeks. She gives you a head start by dipping her fingers into the elastic of your shorts. “Yea.. im an asshole, im a gross drug dealer, you're so much better than me..” she chastises, watching you lift your hips as she pulls the silky shorts and lace panties down your legs. You let it happen all too easily. “But who’s the one pulling off her pretty little pajamas to get off on my thigh?” she questions.

You can't deny that, definitely not as Ellie stimulates the first rock of your hips down against her mostly bare thigh. The feeling washes over you, eyes rolling back. Any grip you still had over yourself and your control is drowned out by the feeling. It’s embarrassing to admit how wet you are, how wet eating her out had made you. Of course she comments on it, always looking to shame you.

“Fuck, can feel you dripping on me princess— always so wet for me, hm? So much for not mind blowing huh?” She asks, letting her hands still so you can continue the movements on your own.

“El..” you gasp, blinking quickly as one hand rests on her shoulder, getting a better angle to let your hips move against her— whimpering at the wet pressure of yourself against her.

Her eyes catch your own, before dropping to where you are rutting down on her thigh. At first you aren’t sure it will be enough— your sore knees now accompanied by burning muscles. But you know this is your only option. It sure does help when she leans forward though, no longer fighting against her want to press lips against your neck.

The marks from last time were now almost completely gone, much to her dislike. This could have been completely avoided if you hadn’t been such a fucking bitch. If you had just gone to the parties and let her leave you with a fresh set of bruises each time.

“Fuck,” you huff when she bites at your skin meanly. Your movements falter from the rush of pain it brings. “Gonna let me mark you up, aren’t you baby? Make sure everyone knows your mine?”

The word mine sends you for a loop, and you pause slightly on it. Too desperate to get off, you don't comment on it. But it makes your stomach do flips, inable to tell if they are good or bad.

The threat is not an option for you, that was clear enough when she doesn't let up the harsh sucks and teeth marks on your throat. “If you fucking cover these up I will do it over and over again,” Ellie threatens, only making you whine louder. Your arm wraps around her back, pulling her even closer into the crook of your neck. She presses comforting kisses there to soothe the burning pain from all the bites.

“Won't,” you promise quickly, grinding even quicker down into her. Neither of you can be sure if you are just saying it in the heat of the moment.. but it affects you both all the same.

What you ask next is a shock to both of you. “Kiss me, El please kiss me,” you beg. Her face pokes out from your neck, questioning your words only for a second. She doesn’t ask before pressing her lips into yours, kissing you for the first time tonight. You’re quick to respond, following her lead in the quickly deepening kiss.

She swallows every single noise you make, tongue swirling around your mouth when you moan into her. Your hips are moving erratically now, your moans getting even louder against the kiss. Ellie kisses you harder, a bruising and hot kiss— both of you gasping against it.

This is far more intimate than the first time you slept together, the way you refuse to pull back from your lips even as you feel your orgasm rising up and up. She doesn’t allow for any room either, eager to bite at your lip, to let her hand move to knead at your tit. The new sensation overhwlems you, a repeated “fuck fuck fuck,” pressing against the kiss as you are finally sent toppling over into an orgasm. Even as it hits you, even as your hips stutter, you don’t pull back from the kiss.

Not until Ellie does first, her hand moving back to your hip when you slow. She forces you hardly back down against you, and your ears ring. “S-stop,” you whine— suddenly far too overwhelmed. Ellie doesn’t listen, guiding your hips to continue grinding down, even in your over sensitive state. She wants to pull another orgasm out of you, and she states so when you try to pull away.

“Dont fucking move away from me,” she demands. “Want you to come on my thigh again. Know you can take it. Know you want it,” she continued, bordering on slurring out the words. The auburnette seems almost as dizzy from this as you are.

You can feel your eyes sting, pussy throbbing against her thigh as she forced you to keep moving, rising to your peak at a record pace. “I can’t,” you babble, shaking your head quickly.

“Of course you can baby, look at the mess you made on me already,” your eyes follow her directions immediately, finding her thigh sticky with your slick. “So messy, so fucking pathetic. Getting off on my thigh, pathetic enough to come again.”

Tears spring to your eyes, stomach clenching. “Fuck, Ellie— fuck,” you cry out, tilting your head back to gasp. With how loud you are, you better hope none of your sorority sisters will be home early. You have no idea how much time had passed since Ellie walked through your bedroom door, but it felt like a lifetime.

Ellie’s free hand trails up your chest, fingers dancing across your collarbone. You just looked so pretty with your already reddening neck.. she couldn’t help as her palm rested on your throat, fingers wrapping around it experimentally. The loud cry the slightest pressure coaxed out of you pushes Ellie to grip harder.

“Of course you like this,” Ellie scoffs, admiring the way your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open to wheeze. “Jesus, you really are such a slut, crying for me to choke you? All fucked out for me?” Ellie bites— but it falls upon fuzzy ears, your senses all going haywire as you sob, unable to catch your breath. It just all feels so amazing. Her thigh, her hand, the way she spits the words at you. You're coming again before you can even say anything, throbbing against her thigh as you fall forward into her, her hand releasing your neck as you do.

Ellie coos against your ear as you tremble through your aftershocks, calling you every sweet name under the sun. “So good for me, my perfect girl, so perfect.”

You cry into her, hot tears against your own cheeks and her neck. You whine sharply when she lifts you off, leaning down to pull off her sweatshirt. It confused you, blurry eyes quickly wiped by her thumbs. “Lay down,” she commands, and you can only babble incoherent begs for her as she stands and searches around your room, sweating as she throws her sweatshirt into the growing pile of clothes.

It leaves her only in her boxers and sports bra , and you watch on in slight amazement as her abs flex as she bends around looking for something. First she tugs her backpack into your room before you can protest. Then she’s back to searching. When she finally finds something to clean her thigh off with, she brings it back to you, wiping you clean again.

Still deep in your sub space, you grasp at her, and she happily complies climbing into the bed, welcoming as you press against her, searching for skin to skin contact.

You aren’t sure what the morning will bring. Not sure how you will feel when you wake up pressed against the one girl you swore to hate at this whole school. But you don't really care. You listen to her slowly lowering heartbeat as exhaustion pulls you into its arms.

You fall asleep against Ellie, and it’s the best fucking rest you have had in fourteen days.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader

[murdrdocs]

all i could think about today was stepbro!ethan so have a few of my vivid thoughts :)

(tw dubcon) stepbro!ethan who eventually gets sick and tired of your teasing. he’s put up with enough deliberate flashes of your panties beneath your skirt, enough bedroom eyes, enough flirty remarks that are passed off as jokes. so he does something about it. wayne and your mom are working, quinn is out of the house, and ethan has the chance to do what he wants to you. he has you pushed into the counter, the most public and degrading place, the place where fucking food is prepared, and he’s teasing you, thick fingers sliding through your slick. “this is what you wanted, right?” you’re shaking your head, hiding your face in your hands, mumbling small little ‘no’s. “no, you didn’t want this?” your head shakes again, but your hips push into his hand, encouraging him, and your feet separate even more. “want me to stop?” your hands fall from your face and he's able to see your wide, watery eyes. “no, please don’t stop.” 

stepbro!ethan who’s a little paranoid about how richie feels about you. you're officially welcomed into the family when your mom flashes the unique ring on her left hand, and richie is a little too interested in you. he's asking if you need help decorating your room, trying to get you interested in the same slasher films as him, asking if you'd like to star in one of his own films as a 'scream queen'. you're oblivious, thinking he's just being a good older brother. but ethan sees through richie. ethan sees exactly what he's trying to do. so ethan's getting to you before richie can. he's sneaking into your room late at night and leaving early into the morning. he's getting you interested in his hobbies, making sure you don't even look richies way. he's following you around, opening the bathroom door when you're in there (he broke the lock too, just for assurance), pining you down and eating you out like a man starved, making you cum over and over again so you're addicted. eventually, it's clear which brother is your favorite.

stepbro!ethan who sucks at hiding what he’s doing to you. you and quinn are closer than you've ever been, like "two peas in a pod" as wayne had called you. and, in the interest of sibling bonding, wayne had given you, quinn, and ethan his credit card and told you to go get lunch. it's there that quinn interrogates you about the "mysterious guy" you've been seeing. she says it casually, her lips around the plastic straw, and her green eyes staring at you expectantly. "there's no guy." you're trying to play it off, but your leg is starting to shake under the table and you're deliberately avoiding ethan's eye. "there's not?" the way she says it lets you know that she's not buying it one bit, but you still shake your head as if you're telling the truth. "if there was a guy, i would've told you about him, quinn." but you didn't have to tell her. she saw the way you were happier, she's seen the little bites that weren't quite low enough to be covered by your shirt. she's noticed your sly smiles at your phone and the way you would stare off into the distance with the look she knows far too well in your eyes. she decides to drop it for now, but her watchful eyes notices the way ethan's gone all pouty and the way he's trying so hard to catch your attention, but you're focused on the menu you literally know by heart at this point.

stepbro!ethan who's sent by his older sister to follow you to the bathroom after quinn claims she "probably probed too hard" about your sex life. he does as he's told, sibling authority and all that, and he has you pushed against the wall of the family bathroom, on his knees with one of your legs propped on his shoulder, his phone thrusted in your hands and a command just fizzing from his lips.

"tell her you're really upset and it'll be a while. make sure she doesn't come looking for us"

and both of you are so focused on the moment that you don't hear quinn's obnoxious text tone she set for ethan's contact go off outside of the bathroom, where she's standing with her ear against the door, listening to what he's doing to you.

#is the last bit incestuous ?? #lets say its not #😁 #stepbro!ethan #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #ethansworld! #celeste writes scream #quinn bailey x reader #quinn bailey x you #quinn bailey smut

[blueberryarchive]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 18+

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 3.2k words

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ still working on it. smut (non-con, mnster fucking, long tongue, bg dck! jimin, somnophilia, forced voyeurism?) scary (?) confusing, angst.

If there is a God, he must be a cynical, cruel, tentative being.

Jimin squeezed his chin hard, his skull throbbing, eyes fixed on your wool coat-clad back. He was beginning to hate that olive green macrame that contorted in your tense muscles that you hadn't let him see for a couple of weeks.

Jimin thought that maybe it was your period the reason you didn't want him to touch you, that the headaches at night were from the stress of being so far from society. 

He always tried to be a good husband: making you tea, murmuring sweet nothings to you before going to sleep, giving you your space while he took Pepper for a walk to the lake. But winter has gotten crueler, the naked trees are like veins in the eyes of the white sky, pulsant and hideous, and your wall has grown in size. 

The nights have become silent. You only know how to do one activity besides sleeping: cooking. Mainly meats: grilled, baked, stewed and steamed. With spices, drunk in wine, boiled with basil, cut into pieces, and shredded by hand. Jimin started to hate the pungent smell of dead cows. 

Every night, you ate quietly at the table, and for Jimin to get the words out of you, it felt like he had to put his hand down your throat and spread them on the table. Barely audible, barely sentences.

It was a late winter afternoon, Jimin had tried to be flirty for the first time in a while since there was little time before he had to work again, and he wouldn't see you again for months.

It was a simple kiss on your neck that made your skin crawl, and you almost cut yourself with the knife in fear.

He was now sitting at the island, the kitchen illuminated by the grayish sun of cold afternoons. You were cutting the fat from a calf with the precision of a butcher. Jimin had both hands covering his mouth, thoughtful.

"Mom asked about you. I told her you were at the lake." He murmured to cut the tension of that odd rejection.

"I was sleeping." You put the knife aside, looking for another piece of meat in the refrigerator. Almost four pounds on the table, but Jimin didn't want to engage in your weird fucking activities.

"I've already told her like twice that you've been sleeping, she'll think you're sick or something."

You did not answer.

"I'm fine, it's just the nightmares. I don't sleep at night."

"I know, I know." Jimin sighed. 

He felt sorry about every time he found you curled up on the living room furniture, sweaty and breathing fast; you were sleeping but seemed forced. 

"When we go to Joon's house in the summer, we'll look for a doctor."

Your head tensed, tilting. Then you denied it.

"Don't you want to see a doctor?"

"I'm not going to Namjoon's house this year." You huffed like it was obvious.

Jimin frowned, both hands falling to the cold marble in surprise.

"But this year I'm bringing my parents to meet you, Namjoon is getting married in July, I don't-" he snapped, but you shook your head again while still doing your mechanical cut and throw movement.

Jimin cleared his throat, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

"What?" You responded innocently.

"You really don't want to see my mom?"

"Jimin, I'm getting tired of this."

"What are you going to do, take another nap?"

The blood from the meat on your hands began to drip down to your wrists, the metallic smell causing you a voracious appetite.

"You want wine with the grill?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

You sighed, counting to ten. Just a few more hours.

"You can invite her to the cabin, if that's what you want. God knows how much we need someone else in this place."

"I already told you we'll go in a week."

"Without consulting me."

"What should we talk about? We've been planning this for a year."

"I don't feel like going anymore."

"These days you don't feel like doing shit."

You chopped the carrots on the bloody board, the chopping making noises in the immense silence between the two of you.

"It's like you want me to leave." He spoke.

You stood up when you pressed the knife on the cutting board; the tip stuck into the wood. 

That violence, pure and irrational force.

You looked at him with erratic eyes, Jimin didn't know if you were offended or not. Your hands clenched the counter, and your lips trembled trying to say something.

When you lowered your gaze, Jimin knew that your shoulders had not collapsed because of his tone, but because what he said was true.

"Oh my God, I'm right." A pained laugh. His body leaned back on the island that separated you two. "Is there anyone else?"

Silence.

Jimin's skin chilled when before turning to the meat again, barely visible, he saw a tiny smile lining your lips. Self-conscious and cruel.

Before he could think, the sweet husband's façade had broken and with long steps, he approached until he turned you over with his fists in that damn coat. You looked at him with wide eyes, and you wiped your mouth as if the fact that Jimin was going to kiss you disgusted you. The blood of the calf covers your lips.

You were cruel, and he wanted so much to love you, to hug you and hit that distant look on your features. To squeeze your cheeks and spit in your face so you get off that fucking cloud. That you wouldn't look at him with so much hate, with that thousand-yard stare. Take that fucking knife and put it near your beautiful neck and scream 'LOVE ME AGAIN, I FUCKING DESERVE IT'.

"You think this is a fucking game? I've been wanting things to go back to normal since October, but you," His nose wrinkled. "You have become nothing, you are just another object in this useless old cabin."

Your eyes seemed to get closer and closer to Jimin's, your pupils dilating.

"And even as an object I can't fuck you, you're useless." He let go of your coat and walked away, each word dying in his throat. He couldn't believe that he could talk to his wife like that, what kind of man was he?

Then, a single person came to his head.

"Are you seeing Ryan?"

Ryan was the one who sold the land to Jimin, every now and then he would pass by the road and stop to drink coffee and fish in the lake with Jimin. It's not that Ryan is an attractive man, nor a man who knew how to talk to women because he was a first-class hermit. He was not a man you would cause your marriage to fail with...

...Right?

"That's it. I'm going to sell the house."

"No." You were quick, your shoulders rose as if a puppeteer had lifted your strings, and you trembled again, denying.

"No, please."

"So it is because of Ryan?'

You inhaled all the air in the room, your eyes a predator. 

"Ryan is a parasite in front of him, filth, a mere fly on the wall." You barked causing echoes to reverberate off the walls of your boyfriend's chest. Your trembling fingers covered your mouth instantly.

The knife in your hand, the fingers bloody from the fresh meat, that green coat that you didn't take off, the tangled hair. Jimin didn't recognize you, your sweetness had turned bitter; like a viscous liquid made from plants. Raw and strange.

"You're a fucking whore." His voice trembled, the sting of tears wanting to flow like shooting water.

He took his coat, with a whistle he called Pepper and they both went with a roar through the wide, dense forest.

The afternoon became denser in the forest, the leaves did not move and Pepper spent the entire way sniffing the trees, howling at the birds that passed by without squawking. Jimin put a hand in his coat, the other looking for some signal to call Hoseok, his mother, the damn police. Whoever.

He found his headphones in his jacket and placed them on top of his head, connecting them to his cell phone. He turned on the Bluetooth.

Connected.

"Come on, fuck." He mumbled until Hoseok's number started ringing in his ears. It rang once, twice, five times before he could hear anything.

"Seok, couldn't you last longer to answer the damn call?" The lake did not move, his boots made the wood of the dock squeak as he walked from one side to the other. 

"No, I just need you to help me with something, I don't want Joon or my mom to worry, but I need you to find a doctor and come here...p-preferably someone with knowledge of mental problems."

Disconnected.

"Hello? Hoseok, hello." He repeated, turning on the Bluetooth again. 

"No, it's just a little seasonal depression, but I don't want it to escalate into something worse."

Disconnected.

"Shit, fucking headphones." On impulse, he grabbed the device with the cell phone and threw it as hard as possible into the gray water.

And with the cell phone falling, he glimpsed the pale skin of a being on the other side of the lake, it didn't look like a bear or a deer. Pepper started barking, loud and fast.

"Quiet." Jimin tried not to alarm the creature emanating from the foliage, his dark eyes approaching the evening light.

Jimin stayed still until he saw how the creature's feet approached the tip of the other dock, his eyes narrowed to see his own reflection, blonde hair, and the same features. A being as tall and wide as a log, he was wearing a coat that Jimin had given up for lost months ago, but it was dirty and torn due to the size of the beast.

He was seeing a Behemoth in his own skin. A dim Jimin, a monster, an abomination of himself.

His feet began to move as the animal threw itself toward the water in his direction. Pepper stayed behind him, but he couldn't think of saving her. He was going to die.

He prayed it was a hallucination of his tired brain, a joke of his own mind. But he could hear the earth tremble with each approaching footstep.

Every tree looked the same, the path home had vanished and all he could do was scream for his mother, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Mom, please, help. Help." He screamed as his feet were grabbed, the wet earth choking on his whimpers.

"Help!" The creature screamed even louder, in the same voice but drowned.

Crawling wasn't worth it, the creature had grabbed him by his hair and flipped him over. Seeing his face, rough and full of scratches, caused an abominable pain in Jimin's chest; he wanted to vomit out his organs and die before continuing with this terrifying reality.

The last thing he remembers is his head crashing into a log, the guttural roar of his mammoth twin, and the green inferno engulfing his body as he falls to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, Jimin was in his room, his body tied to a couch in the corner. His mouth was muffled with a kitchen rag: the disgusting, metallic taste of the beef made him nauseous.

His eyes were guided to where your body was lying, you had the Prince t-shirt that Jimin had given you on. Your wet hair, the smell of coconut shampoo, the shower running in the other room, Pepper's howling in the distance. This was the first time you looked so angelic in a long time, so peaceful in your own dreams.

He couldn't move, his body felt heavy and slow. His fingers moved, his eyes too but it was as if it was a ghost of his body.

You sighed suddenly. With his hair standing on end, Jimin tried to call you but his voice didn't come out of his lips, a mere hoarse. Word dust.

Your body stood up unsteadily. You rolled your head to the entrance and smiled: there it was, on all fours, his mouth dirty with blood from the meat you had saved for him, those cupped pupils that you missed.

His body crawled closer until it reached your knees where he pressed his huge hand on one of your thighs, the wine bottle running down your body with each touch.

"Love," he roared until he climbed and transformed into a tower above you, nearly seven feet of pure dedication. You fed him daily with everything you had in the house. "My love."

That's what he called you. Jimin shook his head in the corner, his eyes threatening to close, his neck stretched out trying to reach you uselessly.

"Ah," his pale black tongue unrolled to reveal discolored pills at the tip.

You stuck out your tongue and let the creature's hands squeeze your neck so you would open wide, open better so his tongue would enter directly into your throat. The tickling in your esophagus from the movement of the wet muscle had your core tight.

When you stuck your tongue out, saliva connected both of your mouths, your eyes tilted; drunk and in love.

"More," he claimed, taking your small body in his hands until he had you anchored to his waist, both legs dangling. His fingers tore away what was covering your pussy, and Jimin could see the marks on your body, some yellowish about to fade, others a vivid red.

You lowered his sweat with the balls of your feet, his thick red cock throbbing at your entrance. Your body began to feel the effect of the sleeping pills, turning you into a nebula hanging from a warm mass.

When the tip entered you screamed into his chest, your nails scratching the flesh until it bled. The monster groaned in pain and knocked you to the ground causing the floor to shake with the weight of both of you.

You didn't have time to complain as his sharp teeth clamped down on your shoulder to keep you from moving as he took his cock all the way in, blood pouring from your shoulder.

The pain was such that you imagined how the inside of your organs was breaking, the bones creaking under his hands on your breasts, your voice becoming a thread until it was silent with each roar in your ear.

The watery, repetitive sound. The bulbous tip covered in juices went in and out so easily that the fabric covering your stomach seemed like it wanted to tear at any moment.

"Fuck, fuck, Minnie. Hurts good." It was like you were communicating with a caveman, but your brain didn't function properly when it came to him.

"Good, I like hurting you." Thick, dark blood ran down to his chin as his tongue smothered you again. Your eyes closing, your hands trapped in one of his. Your moans cover the dark heart of the beast with a soft layer until your limbs gave up, unconscious and so wet for them.

Little human trapped in his forest, an inferior being praising a God she does not understand out of pure lust. You were adorable, warm inside, you made him big and unstoppable and he thanked you by filling you with his cum every night after you fed him. That was your only request, every time.

Now he was named Minnie and you shouted his name every time he did something right. Learned words like more, hurt, inside, want, fuck.

And just because he molded himself into something you already had, you adored him.

His tongue came out to snake around one of your breasts, his wide, long thumb holding your mouth open. Your dead eyes casually open to see your tied husband, your head wobbling and arms hagging in the air with every pounding like a rag doll.

He couldn't bare it, you were being raped in front of his eyes, and he couldn't do anything else than stare at your unconscious body, like a fucking parasite, filth, a simple fly on the wall. 

With a few steps, the creature approached Jimin, leaving your warm body on his lap. Your eyelids throbbed softly regardless of how the demon destroyed your pussy with every crash of his hips. 

Your lips were wet with foreign blood, wet hair stuck to your temples, and open hands that fell to each side of the furniture.

You looked like the girl he had that morning when he showed you the cabin, like the one from the first night when you two made love on the living room rug, like the one that bathed naked in the lake even though someone could see her. 

A nymph, just a beautiful wildflower.

And Jimin knew at that moment why that beast had you in his claws, why he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed you to wake up from your sweet dream. 

When you looked up and saw your husband's face, Jimin knew that he had to give up, because that thousand-yard look was a path that was forbidden to him, that he did not know and could not learn.

You were no longer his but from the forest. A red and grotesque fairy, who moaned instead of singing and collected bones instead of flowers.

And yet you were more beautiful than ever.

You smiled at Jimin and your hands moved down his face to remove the dish towel and kiss him like you've never done before. The sulfuric smell of a dead animal on your soft lips was enchanting.

"Oh, God, yes." You whispered in your sleepy voice.

The Beast bruised your hips until pumping your pussy with cum, thick and gray.

You and Jimin looked at the growling monster, picking up pieces of the wooden floor with its long nails. They looked up, and exhaled deeply, snorting like an angry bull seeking respect.

Before you could say anything, he was gone. Leaving your bruised body between your tied husband's legs.

Your fingers brushed your face as you felt something damp: the tears in Jimin's eyes flowed like summer rain, thick and abundant.

"Tell your mom you'll find a better girl, okay?" Your lips trembled, trying to dry each drop from which another came out. Jimin nodded, bringing your forehead to his.

"Am I really not going to see you anymore?"

"Any time you want," you assured, your voice echoing a dozen times like whispers spreading across the room. A choir of hushed angels saying the same thing over and over again. 

"Every time it rains, leave the door open, and I'll know you need me."

Your naked body turned to place Jimin's head on your chest, he sobbed himself to sleep, and you counted his eyelashes until it was time to leave.

With a kiss on his forehead, you let him sleep, when he woke up you were no longer there, the green coat was hanging in the back yard and the smell of your hair filled every corner, a floral ghost.

#jimin imagine #jimin smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts #jimin x reader #bts smut #jimin bts #jimin fanfic #bts jimin #bts x you #jimin angst #bts horror

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (Part6)

Tw: a little sickness, Cyprus patting you on the butt non consensually super short chapter, tw afab reader

like idk guys its so hard for me to brainrot for Cyprus i don't like him and i rarely get asks that would leave long analyses and theories for Yves, so he's not a fun guy to work with

but anyways here u go a more softer side (i guess)

masterlists, part 1, part 7

He grinned. "I knew you'd come around."

Cyprus straightened his posture. He kept your ID away and left the scene.

The day went by smoothly after that.

__

Two minutes before lunch, you made a beeline to the toilets. You locked yourself in a stall and planned to stay there until that dreadful hour is up. Cyprus obviously can't enter the women's restroom, he would risk his job.

Actually, you hope he did. HR has grounds to fire him, or at least reprimand that man.

Half an hour in, you received a text from Cyprus.

"Wtf is taking you so long"

"you ok?"

You replied, deciding to use a fake stomachache as an excuse.

You thought he gave up and left you alone for now. You nervously kept glancing at the clock in your phone, it ticks by slowly as you worry about what he would do.

As you breathe slowly and jump every time someone opens the door to use the bathroom, you fidgeted with the hem of your blouse nervously. Time ticks by and before you know it, lunch is over for you.

You let out a sigh of relief. Finally, one hour without that fucking creep. You exit your bathroom stall, wash your hands, dry them, and get out of the toilet.

You only had one foot out of the women's restroom before that deep vibrating voice of his reached your ears and made you jolt.

"You okay, babygirl?"

You whisked your head to the side to see him leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed and a look of genuine concern on his handsome face.

You stammered, yes. You would like to get back to work now.

He didn't stop you from scurrying away to your seat. Not like he could do anything now, his lunch is over too. So he has to get back to work or he faces the risk of getting called to HR.

You immersed yourself in work, tapping away and tuning out all surrounding noises. To you, minutes or hours felt the same. You don't know how long you've been working since you got out of the restroom, but you're sure it's been a while. The gears in your head are churning non-stop to try and figure out a plan to get away from Cyprus. Or get him fired so you can work in peace.

"Princess."

You craned your neck up only to be kissed on the forehead. Cyprus set something down on your desk. You turned your focus to the object he placed in front of you.

"For your stomach." It's a steaming hot cup of green tea. He must have prepared it earlier in the kitchen. You picked it up and muttered a thanks to him.

"I don't think you ate anything today. Here." He opened a packet of bland crackers, which you recognized was from the vending machine. Cyprus placed it near you.

You said you appreciate it, but he needs to get back to work before Jane yells at him. He scoffed at the mention of her name.

"She can't do crap to us. If she's giving you a hard time, tell me." He ruffled your hair as he walked back to his cubicle.

__

You're now genuinely feeling sick in the stomach as Cyprus carries your suitcase for you to his car. Your coworkers said bye to the two of you as they got into their respective vehicles too, but you knew behind those friendly grins was the intent to gossip.

You went to the passenger's side, not realizing that Cyprus was noticing how you were looking a little green in the face.

You buckled your belt up and so did he after shutting the door and igniting the engine.

You flinched when he brought a hand to your face, but he did or said nothing except to touch your cheek with the back of his palm. It then slid down to your neck, and back up to your forehead. You were too tired and frazzled to ask him what he was doing. All you did was to stay still.

He let out a sigh before retracting his digits and placing them firmly on the steering wheel.

Cyprus drove in silence, periodically looking at the rearview and side mirror to check the position of his car relative to the road. You're surprised that he wasn't in a chatty mood today, not interested in teasing you or extracting new information about yourself. He seemed grumpy, but you don't know why, was it because you didn't join him for lunch earlier?

You decided to seal your lips in the end though, savoring this rare instance of silence, and decided to scroll through your phone instead, feeding your brain with social media junk food until it's too sick to take anymore.

Cyprus would spare some quick glances at you periodically, there was a disapproving look on his face when he realized that you have no interest in looking out of the window at all. Just on your phone screen.

He actually... pities you. He thinks you're trapped, you've been in this routine for so long because you were spineless enough to let Jane work you to the bones. The only thing that's remotely fun for you to do, that's within your time and financial budget is to surf the net. Now, you have Cyprus to keep your boss in check, you have him to pay for your exciting adventures together, and to manage your time for you, yet you're still falling into the same rut.

It takes time, as habits are hard to break. Especially bad ones such as your obsessive scrolling and his smoking. It's fine, he is willing to work with you. Cyprus thinks overcoming obstacles like these will strengthen the bond between you and him as a romantic couple.

"We're here." You were snapped out of your trance by his voice. Cyprus killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. You did so too and left the car, but this doesn't seem like his house. No, not at all, he brought you to a block with various businesses still operating past office hours.

You asked where he had brought you to. Cyprus ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you with him into a shop. The smell of antiseptic stung your nose upon entry and the blindingly bright lights gave away that he brought you to a clinic.

You told him that you're fine. But that made him hush you before talking to the receptionist on your behalf.

Once he's done registering for you, he turns around to look at you.

"Sit, we're gonna need to wait for a while." He leads you to the waiting chairs by the small of your back.

You said that you were fine, it was just a small stomach ache. He rolled his eyes at you and grunted, he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. Cyprus loosened his necktie earlier and unbuttoned the collars, giving everyone a glimpse of his sculpted chest.

Seeing that nothing was getting to him, you pulled out your phone. You failed to notice how he side-eyed you for doing so.

"What do you want for dinner, princess?" He asked, frowning when you're still glued to your phone.

You said anything is fine. Which slightly infuriated him.

You exclaimed an expression of surprise when he snatched it away from your hands. He dangled the device next to his face as he adjusted his glasses.

"Christ, I really need to tape this to my head for you to look at me." He narrowed his eyes at you.

You asked if you could have it back. But all he did was switch it off and shove it into his pocket.

"You're addicted to this crap." He spoke, in a condescending tone and a face that suggests that you did something to offend him.

You said that you can say the same for him and smoking. But you're not controlling him or trying to get him to stop smoking his life away.

"Maybe you should. Because, Hell, I'm not letting you scroll your life away." A teasing smirk reached his face.

You demanded his packet of cigarettes, and to your surprise, he handed it to you without a complaint. You swiped it away and hid it in your pockets too, he didn't say a word or pull a face at you. He simply crossed his arms and resumed resting in his original position.

You were upset, that you have nothing to pacify you at the moment. So you decided to be petty and proceed to break all his cigarettes, reducing them into mere leaves of tobacco and shreds of rolling paper.

He watched you wide-eyed, his mouth opened and shut, as if he was about to say something but decided against it in the end. Cyprus is having a hard time controlling his breathing and the twitches in his eyelids. You just shredded $50 worth of cigarettes.

But... it was fair. He helps you break this addiction towards this bright brick, and you break his addiction to lung cancer. Though, it doesn't hurt any less that a good pack has gone to waste.

You got up and chucked it into the trashcan nearby, marching off to sit far away from Cyprus.

He simply stood up and sat next to you. So you moved. Then he moved. You moved, he moved.

This sequence went on until your name was called by the nurse.

He gently slapped your bum as you walked to the consultation room. You whipped back and flipped him off. Cyprus simply shrugged and grinned at you.

He watched you disappear past the door frame. The nurse closed the door behind you a bit after that.

Cyprus rose from his seat and took long strides to the bin. He looked down uneasily at the desecrated carcinogenic sticks.

He sighed, taking his glasses off and massaging the bridge of his nose.

It's going to be difficult. But he's willing to work with you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #oc cyprus #yandere coworker #yandere oc male #male yandere oc #yandere x female reader #tw afab reader #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #cw yandere #tw: yandere

[chrollohearttags]

anxiety | e. jaeger x black fem reader

“…I just want to talk to somebody that gets me..”

synopsis: a patient suffering from a rare illness finds solace in an unlikely companion, resulting in a friendship and maybe even more.

cw: heavy angst, eren is a nursing student, (he’s a bit of a smartass too, as well as has his own sickness) chronically ill patient reader, (has both mental/physical illnesses), mentions of BPD, anxiety, etc, reader being kind of mean, mentions of self harm, comfort, kissing, hand holding, light mentions of sex and virginity, playful banter between reader and eren

📝: yes, this is kinda based off of Megan’s song, yes, I am okay, I promise. I just wanted to test myself again and since this was like one of my favorite AU’s on WattPad, I wanted to revisit it. (with a bit of a twist this time)

room 403: the very last one to sit at the end of the sixth floor hallway..the desolate, isolated area housed behind the off white walls of Southern Memorial Hospital. Where quality and compassion came first. Where patients were handled with the utmost care. And where (y/n) (l/n) had spent the better part of four months, confined to a bed and clinging to hope that you’d someday get out. However, fate was a cruel bitch that found enjoyment laughing in your face..unfortunately, this wasn’t your first stint as a resident here. In fact, you had been in and out of for a couple years now. Constantly coming back due to some new mystery symptom of your long running sickness. Some strange autoimmune disorder that kept you planted to this hard mattress and prevented you from knowing true happiness. It was a damn shame really..here you were spending the supposed best years of your young life chained to this hellish place. While peers were out attending concerts, going to college, working and even delving into dating for the first time, you were forced to listen to the sounds of beeping machinery and buzzing equipment. The closest you’d get to a cocktail was the disgusting combo of medications administered through your IV every night. You hated it! Hated all of it…this hospital, this illness…your body and all of the people here. Speaking to you as if you were a fucking child with no common sense. Showing pity and giving praise where it wasn’t deserved..you just wanted to haul off and punch one of those condescending bitches. However, there was one person in this godforsaken place that did make it a bit more tolerable..

“You better not be asleep. I just got here.” Yes, the one annoying voice in this entire hospital that you could stand. You could hear it outside the door of your secluded space. A single curtain shielding you from view as they entered. As always, you were perched upright against your pillows, glaring out of the window to a life you only wished you’d known..by now, it was getting pretty late and the once bright sunny skies had dimmed to a purple darkness with stars beginning to litter the view. “Then just leave. I’m tired.” Just then, the cloth partition would pull back and you’d be met with a very familiar face. Those sharp green eyes staring directly at and through you like always, long brown hair tied into a bun of some sort and those signature blue scrubs from the city’s premier nursing program. On the name badge? One you’d never forget for as long as you lived. “What do you want, Eren? Don’t you have a job to do? I’m pretty sure annoying me is not a part of the description.” Dismissing the brunette without so much as a full glance in his direction. Oh, but he saw right through you. Peered through to your soul like looking through a this sheet of glass…it pissed you off so badly! “For it to be a job, they’d have to pay me. Credit hours don’t pay my bills so I’ll do as I please until then. Besides, they love me too much to get rid of me. And you do too, so hush.” Anyone else would’ve been off put by your rather crass personality but him? He thoroughly enjoyed it and instead, took a seat at the foot of your bed, plopping down with a bag in hand. Bopping your nose with his fingertip.

“But since you’re being a brat, I guess I’ll eat these cupcakes by myself then.” it was the only thing that grabbed your attention as he knew you had an affinity for all things sweets. One of the very rare things you’d consume that didn’t make you feel sick to your stomach. Bitter hospital food tended to linger on your tongue for a while so it was nice to have something that cleansed the palette. Shifting in your seat, arms barred against your chest, (y/n) gave a side eye before tugging the bag. “You’re a type one diabetic, don’t be stupid.” retorting before retrieving one of the treats from the bag and tossing it back. “And you’re nosy.” Maybe it was part of the reason why you guys got along so well. As someone who suffered from a lifelong disease himself, he knew your pain all too well. That and he was a complete, total jackass. Without changing word, he’d grab the other and the the two of you would indulge in the delicacies as you spoke about your day. He told you about how he had an upcoming exam..one that would get him one step closer to the infamous N-CLEX. it brought back memories..as you had once pursued the degree yourself before falling too sick to even sit up in a classroom. But that bountiful knowledge bank of a brain never quite rid of that information. So I’m exchange for snacks and company, you pass on some of it to him, along with tips to ace those difficult tests. “So you think you can pass it?” questioning through a semi stuffed mouth; a hand covering it to prevent crumbs from spilling out. To which he’d nod his head, wiping away small remnants of frosting around his lips. “God, I hope so. My pops will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t. Hell, he might put me out, knowing him.” You wanted to laugh but you knew he wasn’t exaggerating. Eren had big shoes to fill, considering that he was not only a lovable goofball but the son of a prominent physician, Dr. Jaeger. Who oversaw the sister hospital to this one and because of that, his two kids got no break from him. Having been preceded by his older brother, who already was working towards his doctorates, he had no other choice but to be a success as well. You knew he studied hard, which is why you rooted for him secretly. “Don’t sweat too much. You’ll be fine, I promise.” the words sounded well enough but only time would tell if he could. But if they were from your own admission, he felt much better about it.

as for you on the other hand, another important test was fast approaching. One that was impending your entire future and he was aware of what it could mean.. “..what about you?” the simple question, loaded with complex emotions and feelings. Ones smeared all across his face because truthfully, he was as terrified as you were. “What about me? I’m fine..” You had confided in Eren about your condition..how it had worsened and what the doctors said. At first, it could’ve been attributed to poor mental health, as he and everyone else were privy to your past struggles. Aware of the scars plaguing your arms; now concealed by bandages and your flippant behavior that followed. You’d constantly tell your care team that something felt off and they never believed you. They all but dismissed you and told you it was all in your head. That was until you collapsed one day outside of the student center while walking to class and nearly hit your head. Luckily, someone was there to help and it was none other than this doofus. The one friend you had in this fickle world. Needless to say, he had been following your medical mystery as closely as you were..hoping for a better outcome. As it stood, you’d be all but bedridden in the next six months if things didn’t change. So tomorrow, you’d be undergoing a biopsy to determine what was causing it and have the results back in a few days. Was it cancer? Was it something else?..time would only tell but you were growing far more anxious by the minute; even if you used anger to mask it. “You’re as terrible of a liar as you are beautiful, (y/n). Look, it’s fine to be scared. Hell, I’m scared for you but don’t let this beat you, alright? They’ll figure out what’s wrong, kick its ass and have you out of here.” His words sounded hopeful, full of encouragement but you couldn’t be vexed to buy them right now. Your life was dangling in the balance. Hanging by a minute thread… “..and you’re as optimistic as you are stupid. Truth is, I’m dying..” the statements sending shockwaves throughout his body. The possibility of losing you chilled him to his core. “Don’t say shit like that—“ “it’s true, alright? I’ll never see the outside of this damn room ever again. I’ll never graduate college, go on a date, have my first kiss or even have sex for the first time..I’m gonna die here and there’s nothing I can do about it..” in that moment, tears began to trickle down your face and your voice cracked. Something about saying it all aloud made it all real. Twisting your head away, you’d try to conceal that crying but he knew better. It took everything in his own power not to become emotional.

suddenly, you’d feel a hand placed atop your own and your head twisted until your lips were locked with his. He knew it was wrong..knew that if for any reason, someone were to walk through those doors, he’d be kicked out with no exceptions. But the thought of seeing you upset made him act on instinct. That and the fact he’d waited for so long to do that..but you didn’t break it! Rather, you’d deepen the peck; pressing your plump lips further into his own and intertwining his pale fingers with your dark hued digits. It lasted for what felt like minutes but when you both pulled away… “I’m sorry…I just..” “..don’t be.”

it was exactly what you needed. Something to ease the pain that medicine couldn’t solve..for now, he’d keep holding you close and letting you sob into his shoulder blade. He knew it couldn’t have been easy but he’d do everything in his power to try and absolve your hurt, even if it meant letting you use him as a punching bag. His large arms cradled around you for the utmost comfort and you’d never felt better than in that moment. “I’m scared, Eren. I’m really fucking scared…I’m too young to be going through this. I want to live..” having to keep his own head tilted up to avoid letting tears fall; swallowing the hard lump in his throat as to not get choked up. He wished that he could trade places, make it all go away. Maybe if he were smarter, he could cure it for you..but sadly, the best he could do right now was this very thing. And it was enough for you..“I know..but it’ll be okay. It has to be.” Because truth be told, you couldn’t leave him just yet. He couldn’t let you depart from his life..

not until he was able to say.. ‘I love you.’

#cherry’s songfic soirée #songfic #black fem reader #eren x black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #aot x black reader #black reader #black fanfic writer #eren x black fem!reader #black fanfiction #eren jaeger imagines #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger headcanons #eren angst #eren x black y/n #eren x reader #black reader angst #aot angst #modern au #nurse au #eren yeager #attack on titan eren #heavy angst #angst fanfic #angst with a happy ending #chronic illness #medical issues #megan thee stallion #eren x black yn #eren x black reader fluff

[granolawriting]

A proper fall◞♡

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: A slow night ignites when Joel brings a suprise of pumpkins spotted on his way home from work to your doorstep. what starts as a nice activity with you and him lit by the illumination of the TV and of small tea candles, delves into something a bit more about you, and less about pumpkins.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (25yrs), he has grey hair so hes about that old, he also has long hair because I say so, breif praise kink, strong Joel picks you up, pet names (darling, sweetheart), crazy tension, the reader is a bit of a stalker, Joel teaches you how to cut a pumpkin (visual learner ;))

word count: 2.8k

general masterlist . kink*tober masterlist

A/N: welcome to the first day of kink*tober! Hope this is a good way to start it off, and enjoy ;)

Night falls upon an evening of autumn that crept up upon you as though there was no summer in between them. As the beginning of October rears its head, and you watch the symptoms of the cold brush against the warm tones of trees once vibrant and green, their remnants finding final resting place within the sidewalks at which you walk and the streets you drive. Fall reminded you of times since past, of family and festivities, childlike whimsy watching as though the monsters on TV were specially curated for your greatest fright. There's something nostalgic about this time of year, however with old love comes a desire to thrust it into the new by sharing it with those you love and care for. A yearning you've held as you’ve grown older as most definitely as you lived alone. 

The familiar tune of Joel's tires drives up onto the gravel to the house adjacent from yours. Joel, your neighbor, your sometimes liquor handler, and the incessant object of your unrequited affection. He was an older man in contrast to you, aged about 25 years your senior he was a reliable man for about anything an old man could provide. From home repairs to car leaks he's about the only person in this freshly moved into town that feels as though he is genuine with you. And as you hear the parking of tires scratch against the small stones, it cues to you a glimpse at him was within your reach. Every moment you could you were compelled to steal glances at him, with a window facing the front end of his home you were able to gaze upon him twice a day if you were lucky. Once when he went to work and once when he went home. Though some nights you find him sat on a chair outside on his property, a face illuminated by a light attached to his porch a sweet sound of hums and plucking of strings filled your senses as a dimly lit guitar played a melody unfamiliar to you by origin but soaked in with every ounce of love by the way he rendered it with his own hands. 

Your eyes trace his movements as he hops out of his truck, a routine motion of heavy steps does he do something uncharacteristic-- reaching to the back of his truck. Usually there was nothing left of the cargo stored in his truck for work by day's end, and anything he bought often was small enough to fit in his passenger. By a sick twist of stalking tendencies you found yourself undeniably intrigued in this minute break in routine. But as he reveals what is shadowed by the walls of the truck's rear it has you make a double take. Pumpkins? 

Two pumpkins, one thrusted under each crook of his arm to carry with the strength of his bicep and the careful placement of fingers to keep it in place. And as he walks that gravel road you see him not turn around to meet his own front door, but as his boots hit the sidewalk it dawns on you that he is going to your own door. 

You panic, going into a very forced casual relaxation as you await his knock, only mere seconds to play the act of surprise as though you had not watched him from the moment his car arrived in his lot. 

Knock knock. 

Fuck. fuck uh, shit uh fuck well how long does it take for someone to casually get up to get the door how many steps uh 

You sprint to your couch and start tracing steps to the door with perfectly calculated casualty to them, no anticipation to be perceived in the gracefulness of tense legs and unnatural motion wading one step closer to the door. 

Knock knock knock 

Oh shit. That was with his boot maybe? Fuck I took too long what if they drop and break and 

Abandoning all previous methods of casualty you find yourself lunging for the door. 

“Took ya’ long enough.” 

God. His smile was teasing, a little cock in his hip to hold up a slipping pumpkin that gave him an air of tease that when complimented by a southern drawl and a long days of work, made your knees grow weak at the sight of him. 

“Ya’ just gonna stand there or can I put these things somewhere ‘fore they break on us?” 

You snap out of your gaze to usher him in; 

“Oh, oh of course I'm so sorry you can put them on the kitchen counter.” 

And as he passes you, the musk of coffee, tobacco, and sawdust wafts past you in a scent coated by recently applied cologne that makes your eyes follow him as his back faces you and he travels deeper within your home. You swiftly close the door behind him and follow, watching the way he walked, the sway of his body ever so slightly, the sound of his boots against your wooden floors, the broadness of his back accentuated by the posture he found himself in. he was so much larger than you he almost dwarfed you in comparison. And as you remember the way he looked moments before, with rolled up sleeves that showed flexed forearms before you, you thought that he was absolutely perfect. 

“What are these even doing here Joel?” 

You ask in a playful tone as you trail behind him, hoping that whatever he had in mind involved him staying there. 

He stands with a hip cocked on the side of your counter as the two pumpkins sit there, arms crossed watching as you speak. The dim light of the lower setting of your home lighting casts a soft shadow on his tanned face, to complement the fall of gray and black hair right above his eyes. 

“Well, saw em’ for sale on my way home ‘n thought you’d like one. It's that, buy one get one, thought you’d wanna cut em’ up fer your fancy little decorations.” 

By “fancy little decorations” he means a welcome mat from michaels, that adorned a little skull over the ‘O’. 

Joel begins to make his way towards the door he’d just come out of, passing you makes your heart sink. 

“Well, I best be gettin’ out of ya hair, hope you like em’.” 

But as his kind smile meets your eyes and a slightly frowned mouth, impulse overtakes you to grab onto a bicep clothed in dark plaid that makes him stop in his tracks. 

“No, uh. How about you help me out? We can cut one up each. If, you don't have anything going on. It's fine if you do. I was just watching a movie.” 

It comes flowing out of you without thinking, but you couldn't let yourself forsake this kind of opportunity just by staying quiet. 

He turns his head to look at you, eyes lingering on the hand holding his arm for a moment. 

“Oh- I'm sorry.” 

You lower your hand. 

His eyes shift to your own, and a shock of electricity runs through you that stuns you-- as his eyes meet yours there's something different about them. His eyelids hood his dark brown eyes with a bit more intensity than you’re used to, a smile creeps on his lips that has the playfulness you are used to, but with a tinge of something inexplicable within the formation of it. He turns to face you, shadowing you as his broad frame overpowers yours, he looks down upon you as he speaks. 

“No worries darlin’, and I ain’t got nothing to do anyways, I don't mind helpin’ out with some carving. Cant promise i'm any good at it though, aint done it since my girl was young.” 

A spark of joy lights up your face, creating a stretch of lips into a smile that reaches cheek to cheek in positive response to your leap of faith. Eyes darting around to combat his unwavering gaze upon you that if any more attention were to be paid to his gesture you would be unable to have enough self control to pull yourself away from his trance.

 He is so effortlessly enchanting.

“Oh! Oh that's okay. I don't quite know how to do it either. I’ll get us some knives, and some markers for the outline of the face. Just- give me a second.” 

Scrambling around to the drawer of your kitchen that houses all miscellaneous amenities from lighters to thumbtacks, you fish around for a black sharpie and some leftover tealights from an old project you did for decor. You feel Joel's eyes follow your movement as he situated himself on the chair just opposite of the counter to you where there was a small slab of marble sticking out for any who wish to use that as means for dining instead of a proper table. And for you in this moment it meant close proximity with a certain Joel Miller who was a picturesque of your very dream, who you’d found a friend within. your back turns to him to find the silverware that bear sharp enough blade to cut through ripe pumpkin, you know his eyes have yet to leave you. 

The only noise to fill the room within brief moments of shuffling and the clanging of metal against metal is the low hum of your speakers that plays a rerun of old halloween movies along its channel. It's something you allowed to run within your house whether you were watching it or not, it just provides a means for a more seasonal white noise to your everyday. 

“Okay, i’ve got everything!” 

You turn to him with cheery demeanor as your findings are sprawled out neatly upon the counter for his proper check. And with a kind thumbs up and a smile he lifts himself up from the chair to meet your right as he readied his own pumpkin for its demise. 

Sharply does his knife sink its way into the pumpkins top, sawing at its close stem with furrowed brow and concentrated intent with every flex of his hands on the blade's handle. You watch him for a moment as his hair falls in front of his face ever so slightly, burning urge wells up inside of you to bring it out of his face, but you fear to test your luck. Instead you resort to cutting open your own, but with much less elegance as he does. The jagged cuts of the blade against raw vegetable leave its circle around the top growing to be a much more unrecognizable shape, as the cuts of your blade are often redirected every half of the slice. As Joel finishes up his own work, he checks on your progress to find disarray. 

“Oh darlin’ now, now let me help you. What the hell are ya even doing?” 

Curious tone coats a laugh that escapes him as he moves himself closer to you, smoothly moving himself behind you to cup your body with his own, his hand finds yours as the fingers gripping the blade weaken at the feeling of calloused fingertips grazing over the notches of your fingers. You feel his warmth behind you, he's left only a sliver of room between his body and your own, though the intensity felt between yours and his bodies felt as though there was nothing between them at all. And the part of his body that did touch you felt like every nerve you had in your body was directed to that place. The cocked elbow of your right hand is completely engulfed by the muscled emulation of the man behind you. Feeling his bicep strain to fall in the same position you did, as means to merely grip onto your hand. You turn your face to the right of you to look at him once more, only to be greeted with his own to be mere inches away from your own as he leaned over your shoulder. His eyes catch yours, you watch as they flicker up and down your face with a semblance of shock that was a foreign look upon his stern and confident usual demeanor. 

A moment passes as you two take each other in, a moment too long. But soon after he lets out a breathy laugh, the feeling of his breath coated your face, lingering on your lips as he awkwardly smiled. He turns his face back to the pumpkin you had been meaning to cut.

“Now, you’re not properly doin it with the right motion. You’ve gotta dig deep, ya see?” 

He guides your hand out of the jagged lines of the interior, and moves your blade to an untouched part of its top. You feel the grip of his hand engulf yours, and he steadies his forearm on your own to push down the first cut within it. And slowly with a heavy-gripped explanation, he shows you slice for slice how to properly do it. 

“I’ll let ya try the last cut. See if ya learned anythin’ or if i’d just done it for ya.” 

His body lets up from yours with a moment's hesitation, a feeling of coldness wafts over exposed skin that sinks deep within your core-- your body yearned for his even greater now that it had just a taste of what it felt like to be near him. To be overwhelmed with his scent, to hear the low hum of his voice directly within your ear. 

You cut the final piece with decent enough elegance for celebration. Throwing hands up in the air after dropping the knife you find a melodramatic expression of victory only fitting to cut the air of tension that surrounded you two. But as your bout of over exaggerated victory overtook your senses, you latch arms around his high shoulders in expression of said joy. But as the light above you illuminates his face, he seems taken aback. His eyes look needy, lit up by the white light of your kitchen's main light source. You kept hands wrapped around his neck for a moment longer as you took in the look upon his face. It looked longingly, lips slightly parted and pink, your eyes both meet and you feel your world go silent. 

“Ah, my bad i'm getting ahead of myself-”

You lower yourself off his neck but you feel rough hands keep you in by the waist. your top having ridden up your stomach to reach his neck you felt as his fingers gripped onto bare skin once cold now feeling like a thousand suns piercing every nerve in your body. You felt weak at the knees. 

“No worries sweetheart.” 

His voice grew darker. And he looks at you with a smile laced with something you’ve never seen on him before, pure desire. 

“Mind if i'm real with ya for a moment?” 

He waits for a response, and a nod from you suffices. 

“Now, I won’t let ya play dumb anymore. You don't think I see ya watchin me? Feel your eyes on me when I'm comin’ home? Even when I'm here fixin things for ya, you can't take yer eyes off me darlin’. And I've got to say I'm flattered, ain't every day a pretty girl like you takes interest in a old man like me. But i've got to say i'm bout’ tired pretending, what do you say mm?” 

The taunting hum at the end of his words vibrates against you as though a simple gust of wind against your face could set your whole body aflame. You’re at a loss for words, feeling your body engulfed in heat as it sets in what he’s just said. The feeling of the words vibrates throughout your whole body, feeling yourself soak at even the implication of his lips upon yours. You look at his eyes hooded by desire, feeling his thumb trace your lower back barely above the waistband of your shorts as he begins to toy with you ever so slightly. 

“I need a yes or no darlin’.” 

“Y..yes. Please Joel” 

“Good girl.” 

His lips slam against yours at the simplest of begging, the need for you superseding any sort of joy he got from watching you beg for him. He craved you, for much longer than you could have ever accounted for. You could tell by the touch of your lips, the desperation of its tongue as it tasted every bit of your mouth as though it had been starved. A hand traces your body in such intent it's as if he had already mapped out every crevasse and indentation of your body and only now is able to touch what it's yearned for for so long. Tangled fingers push his hair back from his face as you switch between holding his jaw and gripping at his hair, his own fingers snaking their way down to your thighs, lifting you up onto the empty counter space within your kitchen and your hands fell to the back of cold marble that contrasted with your heated skin. And as Joel continued to worship your body with his lips, you could still hear the muted screams of a horror film playing as your own began to meld with it.

#joel #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel smut #joel fanfic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #kinktober #tlou kinktober

[ibims1seb]

A Gift II

Part one

TW: mentioned bruises, mentioned kidnapping, implied nudity (in a bathtub and their alone), phobia Whump, triggered haphephobia (fear of being touched), intimate Whumper, non-con touch, implied enjoyment of panic, (let me know if there is more)

The water wrapping around their body like a comforting hug would have made them huddle into it and not leave any time soon, but the circumstances under which this came to be killed any kind of relaxation Whumpee could have had. They were too aware of the soap in their bruises, the shadows lingering outside of the door and the clear lack of natural light. It was obvious that this wasn’t some sick joke. They were truly not meant to get out of this building any time soon. Maybe even never…, the thought about that stung more than the oils in their wounds. They didn’t want to stay here. Of course, they were grateful that the man, Whumper, had been rather kind, but only god knew how long that would last.

With a sad sigh they dove back down into the water, submerging them self in the slowly cooling liquid. They shuddered, not sure why, sending small waves across the surface. It took their everything to ignore the pictures of friends and family flashing in front of their minds eye, reminding them of what they would lose if they didn’t get out of here. They had to get out of here, no matter what.

With that goal in mind, they pushed them self up and out of the water. They snatched the towel off of the heater close by and nearly to squeaked at the comfortable warmth. They dried their body before taking the provided first aid kit on a stand close to the bathtub. They had absolutely no experience at tending wounds, the worst thing they’d ever done was break their arm once and of course they didn’t have to care for it themself. But now they were alone and too afraid to call for anybody who could help them. So Whumpee just did their best to wrap up the worst bruises in the white fabric, hoping that the soap had eliminated any kind of bacteria.

When they were done with that, they turned to the given clothes. It was a big, mint green T-shirt with a V-collar and knee long, slightly too big pants. It was only for sleeping they recalled, not for wandering around the mansion. Whumper probably wouldn’t have been mad at someone, who let them wear rags, if he himself was going to humiliate them by giving them these clothes. After changing, they didn’t know what to do. They just sat on the bathtub wall, waiting for who knows what.

After a few more minutes, Whumpee realised that, whatever they were waiting for, wasn’t going to come. They were alone in a way too big building with someone who claimed them as their own. A gift, that’s all they were. That’s what the man who took them had said.

“You are a gift for the highest of the high! You should appreciate it, so stop crying for fuck sake!” But they did not appreciate it. They couldn’t. And they didn’t think they could be blamed for that.

Before the tears could overwhelm them, they stepped out of the bathroom, startling the maid who had brought them here. They gave each other tired smiles and the woman waved for them to follow her without a word or question about his red and puffy eyes. Maybe she was already familiar with this scenario, Whumpee tried hard to shove that thought out of their mind, but it never fully disappeared. No, it stayed in the back of their head together with other, awfully reasonable ideas.

The hallways that they were lead through felt just a little bit too long, the ceiling being just somewhat too high and and the light felt just vaguely too bright. It was just overwhelming. Everything was. So, when the maid finally stopped in front of a tall, wooden door, they were glad. They could just relax for a little. Until dinner, whenever that might be.

———

When Whumpee woke up again, they were warmer than they remembered. It felt weird, like a slightly to tight hug…

They froze and every muscle in their body started to work when they realised that it did not only feel like a hug, it was one. There were arms wrapping around their chest, and a forehead nuzzled in between their shoulder blades. The supposedly gentle touch made them choke on their own fear and they screwed their eyes shut, hoping that, if they didn’t see the hands clawing awful close to their body, the panic would disappear. It didn’t though. They started to get way to aware of the other ones movement. The breath against the shirt, sort of protecting them. The slight brushing of the persons stomach against their back while they breathed. It was too much. Way too much!

Air caught in their throat and every puff of it slowly turned into uncontrollable sobs. They wanted to get out. Out of the grip the bed and this damned house. They just wanted to leave.

The crying, involuntarily growing louder and louder, finally woke the monster sleeping behind them. Its breath quickened and the head was removed from their upper back.

“Oh my, I’m sorry! I must have moved in my sleep.”, Whumper’s voice didn’t sound as apologetic as the words he spoke should have made it and Whumpee forbid themselves from looking behind them, afraid of seeing a smile. They had known this man for a few hours at best, but they were already sure that they knew him well enough to say one thing for certain. He wasn’t sorry at all, no matter what!

The arms were withdrawn and they could finally breath again. Their heartbeat slowed down and their sobbing slowly but surely eased again, turning into quiet whimpers of gratitude. They couldn’t believe it. They were glad that someone respected their fucking boundaries. That this man had the decency to act on his manners, no matter if he wanted to or not. They were glad that they were granted space like it was a privilege! Though, considering their situation, it probably was.

Whumpee could still feel his stare in their neck, but they did nothing. They didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. They were forced to either stay in this bed with a person triggering their phobias, purposely or not, or to go and sleep on the ground. Biting their cheeks at the realisation, they closed their eyes again, hoping to drift back into sleep before Whumper could act again.

~~~

I have just realised that I have too much free time…

Well, enjoy your whumpy treat and I will see you the next time I get on this App. Who knows when that will be ;) (probably in a few hours though lul)

Tag List: @turn-the-tables-on-them , @villainsandheroes ,

(Lmk if you wanna be added)

Masterlist

#carewhumper #whumper #whumpee #creepy whumper #whump prompt #intimate whumper #don’t know what I’m doing but that’s ok #i should be studying #lul

[squishycheekanon]

Lawyer!Techno x reader

Belonged to him.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, a little dark Techno.

Techno saw it, the cute little vein above your eyebrow twitching, he watched it behind his coffee mug. His eyes switching between it and the court case on the kitchen worktop. It felt like his tie was tightening around his neck the more he looked at both of them, they were making him stressed.

Just like he could sense you were as you shovelled more cereal into your mouth, your pupils glued to the newspaper. This new court case Techno was on was horrific, was difficult to say the least regardless of wether he was the best lawyer to ever exist.

“Flower.” It was low and almost just a rumble, but you heard it. His coffee was now growing cold sat on the counter as he sauntered over to you pulling the paper out of your hand gently and placing it on the side. Just how he manhandled you into his lap, gentle. He was always so gentle, such a contrast to how your man fucked.

You blinked up at him as he wiped some of the spilt milk from your chin, “How about we go on a little vacation, hmm?” That sounded like heaven, you hadn’t been on a vacation since Christmas and that was so long ago.

“Please.” You let your tired body rest against your man, his large possessive hands holding your body close to his. Possessive is the only correct way you can describe what he was. From the moment he saw you he knew you were his, maybe it was wrong but he felt that it was his right to have you. That you belonged to him.

-

The island was so beautiful, heavenly. Mountains covered in prussian green, the sky a gorgeous azure. Everything was perfect and with one look at your man dressed in an expensive polo shirt and shorts with a gorgeous smile splayed across his gorgeous face it was more than perfect.

“Come on flower,” Techno gestured for you to come to him, you give the boat you arrived on that was sailing away once last glance before running up the sandy beach to the porch of the beautiful holiday home right into your husband’s arms.

“I forgot how beautiful it was here.” You chirp, a giggle coming out when Techno lifts you up carrying you through the big glass door just like he did on your wedding night.

“Got nothin’ on you flower.” He winks placing a big smooch on your cheek, just from the giddy mood he’s been in since getting off that boat you knew this little vacation would be filled with giggles, smiles and love. And fuck you couldn’t wait.

The place was just how you remember it, so spacious all the walls lined with spotless glass windows. The rooms decorated with the latest modern furniture, the kitchen fully stocked with food and drink. It looked like you’d never left.

Techno put you down to go grab the luggage and small grin slid onto your lips as you slipped off your sandals and swiftly stripped your dress from your body. Taking once last glance at his biceps rippling his large hands picking up all the bags in both paws, you quickly tiptoed to the other end of the holiday home and into the usual bedroom.

Your teeth raked over your bottom lip as you look at the marks on the bed posts and frame from your wild love making. Many many occasions that all blur into one but your honeymoon is the one you’ll never be able to rip from your mind.

Techno insisted on waiting until marriage, the old fashioned man he was. It was like the ultimate teasing, only being able to look but never touch.

The room had a set of clear pine bifold doors, you remember when Techno had changed them after a storm had wrecked the last set, you especially remember his friend a hunky lumberjack you can’t quite remember the name of.

They were open letting you gaze upon the view of the waves hitting the sand, the noises, sight, smells. God you’d missed it all. Missed being away from everything and everyone except your husband and nature. This up coming trial had you feeling sick, Techno knew but it was for a friend and he never says no to his friends. He doesn’t let people down, it was one of the things you loved most about him, his loyalty.

However watching the calming waves of the open ocean in front of you had you in a state of tranquility. The gentle cool breeze flying through the open doors and landing on your skin, no goosebumps, it’s a little too warm for that. Something about you standing there in absolutely nothing but a small piece of cotton makes you feel powerful.

“Flower.” The nickname, no, the way it’s said has you pausing any more thoughts about the past. It floats through the hallway, sounding quite far away and yet the deep gravelly tone still manages to make your cunt flutter.

You contemplate for a moment shouting out that you’re in here but you’re suddenly tongue tied peaking over your shoulder and glancing at the four poster bed with thin white sheets. It makes your heart thump wildly in your chest, you know what you want.

-

Techno had brought all the luggage inside the house, feet coming to a stop when his eyes land on your discarded sandals and dress. Slowly, he glances around the room his disappointment flaring when he finds no sign of you, he squats dropping the bags on his way down. His silver wedding ring glinting as he reaches for your soft summer dress, it’s still warm, he brings it up to his face inhaling your beautiful scent with a groan.

Your cute little nickname rolls off his tongue as he stands, his ears twitching as they strain to hear an answer amongst the silence, “So you wanna play huh?” He chuckles flashing his pearly whites in the shape of a smirk, it’s dark and if you’d seen it you’d wonder where your husband had gone.

You don’t hide, you don’t run, you simply stay put staring at the sun that was starting to set. He’ll find you, he always does. And two seconds later you hear the floor boards creek underneath his weight, god he was so big, his presence had a shiver running down your spine, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Another cool breeze moves a couple of the trees that sit to the right of the island and he’s behind you. His muscular chest pressed firmly against your back, his warm hands finding themselves at your hips. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips meet the shell of your ear, it’s erotic and you haven’t even started yet.

Those pretty rubies flicker to your sun-kissed body practically glowing in the light of the sunset, he can’t wait to see you round with his child he thinks. It’s a small part of himself he tires his hardest to keep at bay, it’s possessive a little more than you’d like him to be. And he knows that, knows he has to keep it locked away in order to keep you by his side.

Techno’s hands slide up your body cupping your breasts, his thumbs tweaking and rubbing your nipples. You whimper loving the feeling of his hands on you, it’s euphoric even without a climax. Just to be touched, showered with pure want and love. You only have to blink before you’re on that four poster bed splayed out for the hungry lawyer in front of you.

Soon enough he’s ridding himself of his clothes, letting you admire his striking body. His arm muscles rippling as he grips the top of the bed frame leaning forward towering over you.

“You just gonna stand there gawking?” You ask, it’s more seductive than you mean for it to be but it sure does the trick. Your man sliding down to his knees before he pulls you to the end of the bed.

“Let me see her.” He grunts his tanned thick long index finger taps on your clothed clit, your hips jerking when he did, still sensitive from the plane ride over.

You had said no this morning as you rushed around packing your things after he’d sprung this vacation on you, him lying on the bed with only a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist wasn’t helping you to stay focused let alone his constant complaints that you weren’t letting him have a taste of his pussy.

Yet once you were on the plane you had no excuse, you simply had to let him have his way with you. The shyness of knowing that the captain and co pilot could hear had long been thrown out of your mind, you think it was somewhere around your trip to Monaco when he fucked you senseless on your hotel room balcony. Good times.

His head lulls to the side, his cheek smushing against the inside of your thigh “she’s always so pretty.” He sighs, the tip of his finger spelling out his name on your cotton clad bundle of nerves. His piercing eyes meet yours and your breath gets caught in your throat, the lust swirling in his dark eyes is so enticing. Plus the way he’s on his knees for you, you’ll never get tired of seeing it.

“Please.” A word you don’t hear often falls from his lips and your resolve starts to break. All you have to do is nod your head and he’s tugging on your panties until they break, they do easily. A silent ‘fuck yes’ paints itself on his face, his brow furrowed in pure amazement at the sight of your glistening pussy.

All his.

Your clit pulses erratically anticipating his next move. It’s quick and it makes you jump but then you’re whining into the air, because how can you not when he’s sucking you into his mouth like a starved man. Your body burns with pleasure but it’s oh so delicious his tongue working wonders on your cunt.

“Please Tec-“ he pulls off you with a soft pop stopping your begging, he knows what you want. Knows you want to be completely and utterly fucked out, knows you want to be wrapped around his cock.

“No flower. You can wait, I’m gonna enjoy my pussy and you’re gonna lay there and take it.” He scowls, placing sloppy kisses up your thigh. “If I have to tie you to this bed, I fucking will.” His lips smack together as his eyes leave yours once more, the pad of his thumb sliding through your folds.

“Your pussy is already dripping flower, I’m gonna make you gush.” He grunts leaning forward pressing his nose against you with a sharp inhale.

He can’t ever get enough of you.

Techno looks up his crimson eyes finding yours at the exact moment his mouth latches onto you once more. It feels so good it hurts, the heat from his mouth has you twisting and squirming. His right hand moves up reaching until they touch your lips, a quick tap against them and you open just enough for him to slip his fingers inside. A muffled ‘suck’ has you closing your lips around them, getting them nice and wet.

He groans against your wet heat memories of you sucking his cock the way you’re sucking his fingers floating through his mind. You sob, your body starting to shake when he pushes two ring adorned fingers inside you, the cold metal making you gasp. They rub along your velvety walls bringing a new wave of pleasure, the feeling builds become more intense with every thrust.

His tongue laps at your clit while he searches and searches until you squeal “There it is”, he finds exactly what he was looking for striking the spot over and over again watching your back arch off the bed. A fuck yeah slipping out when you gush all over his hand just like he said you would.

You excepted him to move away, to release your pussy from his torturous mouth but he doesn’t. The bastard stays put the tip of his tongue flicking against you, the sensitivity pulling whines and whimpers from you.

You think it was six, no seven definitely seven orgasms heck you lost count after the third. Your body tired but fuck do you need his cock more then anything. You lay on your side gripping the sheets so tightly as Techno slides in behind you, his arms pulling you taut against him and you mewl.

“I know flower I know you just have to let me in is all, nothing more.” He strokes your hair moving it out the way so he can press his cheek to yours, it’s so intimate and sweet. And yet when he lifts up your left leg, bending it at the knee so he can slip his ridged veiny shaft inside your tight cunt. You feel the sweet sweet burn of the orgasmic stretch that always comes with your husband’s big cock.

You just about manage to make out the time on the clock before your vision blurs and tears streak down your cheeks meeting the dried ones that had already fallen earlier with your over sensitivity. He feels so fucking good, with each thrust you’re pushed closer to the edge.

Your moans and his mixing together in the late evening air, his pace building dramatically, becoming more and more intense the longer he fucks you. It’s brutish, rough and bare. Yet loving and gentle. You love the contrast your man easily creates every time he’s inside you.

“Yes right there don’t stop!” You don’t care how loud you’re being there’s no one else on the island, not that you would be bothering if there was. Especially not when his swollen tip glides over the spot inside you, your body goes still and you can’t do anything except let it happen.

And you do, you let the tsunami of pleasure crash into you almost painfully, it pumps through your viens absolutely demolish what’s left of your energy. You’re barely awake when warmth blooms inside you a deep groan rumbling against your cheek.

“Let’s stay like this tonight.” He whispers softly pulling the sheets over your body, shielding you from the cold breeze that was drifting into your beautiful moment.

A kiss to the top of your head and you’re out like a light unaware of the large hand rubbing at your tummy, the sky completely dark now, unaware of the thoughts bubbling in Techno’s head as he watches the waves crash against the sand.

Tags:

@victory-is-here

@streamer-vulpecula

@lillianastuff

@megnotfound

@vanivivs

@itsberrydreemurstuff

@cherryblossomdelusion

@dreamwvrld

@fionamk1001

@cookiezxx

@angelicadiabolus

@sir-reese

#lawyer!techno #squishycheekanon #squishycheekanonanswer #asks are appreciated #beefy!techno #dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp members #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #techno smut #mcyt imagine #technoblade smut #techno fluff #technoblade fluff #technoblade x reader smut #technoblade x reader fluff #techno x reader smut #techno x reader fluff

[mariaofdoranelle]

High Infidelity

Is two beers too drunk to post?? I really hope not lol because I’m really really happy and wanted to share that with you. However I only had one fic ready and it’s angsty and for Rowan Week but fuck that I can write another

Also I’d like to dedicate this to my brazilian girlies I love you guys @books8lover @aelinchocolatelover hope you’re celebrating too

Warnings: hurt angst sadness

Word count: really short I wrote it in class

~~~~

Rowan was outside Aelin’s room, wondering if he should knock on the door.

She’d been there for less than 15 minutes, but it was hard to go on with his day when the entire hospital staff kept reminding him his best friend had just given birth. Like he didn’t know it himself.

Rowan took a deep breath and rested his head on the wall. He had been such a shitty friend in the last few months she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t visit her. Still, there he was.

The door opened, and he was forced to see a very pleased Sam. The portrait of a happy husband.

Rowan wanted to smash his elated grin against the wall.

“Hey, man! Long time no see. Aelin’s asleep. Wanna go grab a few drinks?”

Rowan frowned. “Didn’t she just—“

“Yeah, but a man gotta celebrate, right?” He tapped Rowan’s shoulder and looked him up and down. “You look like you need a drink, too. Anyway, I’ll be with my friends on the bar down the street if you wanna join.”

He didn’t say anything, only watched with his jaw set as Sam almost ran out of the maternity ward. Rowan’s blood boiled, just like it did every time Sam was being Sam. He stopped commenting on the man’s behavior a long time ago. He was the one Aelin chose to marry, after all. Besides, she knew her hubby a lot better than Rowan did. That didn’t help with the constant annoyance, though.

Scratching his forehead, he decided to stay with Aelin just until someone else arrives. Unlike Samuel, Rowan would never get drunk and leave his wife and newborn under postpartum care to fend for themselves. In fact, there was a lot he wouldn’t do if he were in Sam’s shoes, but that didn’t matter now, did it? Aelin’s choice was pretty clear.

Entering the room, his Fireheart looked exhausted, but as lovely as she’d ever been. Rowan’s chest felt heavier each deep breath Aelin took. She slept so deeply the bright sunlight on her face didn’t seem to bother her, but Rowan closed the curtains anyway.

Looking after her in the hospital. Adjusting the room so she could sleep better. He was so sick and tired of being the one there for her when Sam failed. Filling in his blanks. He wondered if Aelin ever saw how much he cared for her. How much better he could treat her. How much he’d cherish the moments that were currently being treated as an afterthought.

Forcing himself to not look at Aelin anymore, Rowan’s eyes landed on her baby. Sam’s baby. He supposed it was a girl, given the pink beanie.

Rowan was afraid he’d resent that baby forever, but it was hard to do it when the little girl looked so much like Aelin. She had a golden tuft of hair and her mother’s pointy nose, but her eyes were closed, and Rowan hoped they were gold and blue. He knew he was being petty, but... Rowan took a deep breath. No, that was just him being petty. That little girl had nothing to do with his own mess.

Being attached to Aelin was one thing, but letting himself get close to her daughter with Sam was too much for him. In fact, he needed to run as fast as he could from this family, before Rowan lost the last shred of his sanity.

The baby started whimpering, and Rowan picked her up to see if Aelin could get more sleep. Thankful for the baby training he had from having so many cousins, Rowan cradled the little girl, who soon fell back asleep. Or so he thought.

Because when the baby opened her eyes, Rowan was stared back by the same shade of pine green as his own.

TAG LIST

@autumnbabylon

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@elentiyawhitethorn

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

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@thegreyj

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #aelin galathynius #throne of glass fic

[crystalninjaphoenix]

To All New and Returning Subjects

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

I bet a lot of you guys hated me for the cliffhanger of the last story, right? XD But now we can see what comes of it! All five of the guys have been caught by IRIS, and now find themselves locked up in separate rooms. Each of them wonder what is going to happen to them as IRIS stops by them one by one. And yeah. There's not much more to say about it jdkhalsf This is just the start of the guys' adventures in IRIS! They have to get used to their new home! :D Enjoy, hehehe

More of This AU | | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Read on AO3 under CrystalNinjaPhoenix

Anti opened his eyes and found himself in a familiar room. Simple, undecorated walls, the only things in the room being a bed, a table, some chairs, and a camera mounted in the ceiling corner. Fear immediately shot through his heart and he sat up straight. This couldn’t be real! This had to be a dream of some kind, or another one of Distorter’s illusions. He patted the walls and bed around him—but they felt real. They felt so real.

His breathing started to speed up. No! No, he couldn’t be back here—back in IRIS! But as he got up and explored the room, desperately trying to find some flaw in this illusion, the truth slowly sunk in. He was back.

Or had he even left at all in the first place? What if Disorter had merely been toying with him this whole time? Giving him glimpses of a hospital room that didn’t actually exist? While the whole time he’d been here, stuck in this room, maybe with those sick fucks watching him like this was some science experiment—

No. No, he couldn’t believe that. That moment with Jackie had to be real. It had to be.

Anti took a deep breath and immediately ran for the door, yanking on the doorknob. It was locked, of course. He tried pounding on it, kicking it, shoving his shoulder against it, but there was no give at all. Of course there wasn’t. He should know better by now.

Okay. Okay. He has to stay calm. Taking a deep breath, he looked up into the corner of the room. The camera was on, its red light blinking. “You fuckers,” he hissed. “You fucking freaks. Why? Why?!”

The camera didn’t answer, of course.

Another deep breath. Anti started pacing around the floor. Okay, think. What was the last thing he remembered? There was an IRIS scientist, and a bunch of smoke that knocked him out. It must have knocked out the others, too. Were they also in this place? Or had IRIS only taken him? He had no way of knowing.

He wanted to ask the camera questions, but knew better than to expect an answer. And he couldn’t waste his energy. That might have been his problem last time he was here. He wore himself out, and when an opportunity to fight came, he was too tired to. Patience would be the name of the game this time. He couldn’t spend all his time on bullshit that didn’t matter.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed again, noticing a lump under the covers when he did. He stood up again and moved the blankets aside. It was a green bouncy ball. The same green bouncy ball that they’d given him last time. It was still here. He laughed darkly and picked it up. “Hope you guys give me food before you give me a second ball,” he muttered, squeezing it. He looked up into the camera. “If you guys went to all the trouble to bring me back here, you have to want me alive. So you better keep me alive. Okay? I can’t die of hunger.”

Come to think of it, when was the last time he ate anything at all? It had to be before he sleepwalked to IRIS the first time. Maybe dinner that night with Will? God—Will. He had to hold onto hope that he was alright. He didn’t even get to see him after Jackie woke him up from Distorter’s dream world.

He shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on this. It would only make him spiral again. For now, he had to distract himself. But also conserve his strength. He’d only been up and active for a couple minutes and his muscles already felt weak. Guess that was what he got after being stuck in some sort of dream world for who knew how long. Maybe... he should do some exercise? He’d never been a fan of working out, but he had to get strong again. At the same time, if IRIS didn’t give him enough food, he might have to save his energy... It was going to be a tough balancing act from here on out.

Sighing, he bounced the ball against the wall.

———————

Jackie groaned and cracked open his eyes, finding himself in a strange room. Featureless off-white plaster walls, with a bed, a table, some chairs, and a camera mounted in the corner of the room. There was a second camera on a tripod next to the table.

“What the hell?” he muttered, sitting up. “Hello?” He looked up at the camera, confused. The last thing he remembered... was the hospital room filling with white smoke. All of them falling to it, unable to stay awake. The white smoke... and the man in the IRIS coat.

His stomach dropped. Was this somewhere in IRIS? He’d never seen any rooms like this. But then again, he’d only ever been in one of their complexes. There were at least two others near Mirygale. He could be in one of those places.

Slowly, he stood up and walked over to the door. Locked. Of course. He turned around and crossed the room again, examining the camera on the tripod. This was one of the WTCHR cameras that IRIS produced. He laughed dryly. God, he could remember them bragging about their advanced cameras, able to detect emotions with great accuracy. That seemed so long ago now.

“W-well? What are you going to do to me, then?” Jackie asked, his voice shaking slightly. “I—I’m not going back to you. S-so... you shouldn���t waste your time trying to convince me. I-I know better now.”

There was no response. Evidently, there wasn’t an intercom in this room. Which made sense, he couldn’t see any speakers anywhere. Unless... they were super small?

Jackie backed away from the camera, walking around the edge of the room a couple times, looking for any sign of IRIS’s technology besides the cameras. Nothing. He seemed to be alone with the WTCHRs.

They couldn’t be planning to leave him alone for long, though. There was no way they would leave him in this room for longer than a couple hours. Well... there was a bed. That implied they expected him to sleep. But there wasn’t a bathroom or anything, so that was a bit contradictory. Were they going to let him out for that?

Jackie swallowed a lump in his throat. A vague feeling of dread pooled in his stomach, clawing at his insides, eating away at them. He thought he knew IRIS. But it’s clear he didn’t know anything about them. He had no idea what their plans for him would be after he’d stolen some of their technology and fled with the help of Schneep and JJ. For all he knew, they would just... leave him here...

No. No, that couldn’t be it. They had to have some sort of plan. Maybe someone would show up eventually. He... he just had to wait. That’s it.

And hope that the others, wherever they were... hope that they were alright.

———————

Marvin woke up, aching all over his body. He lied there for a moment, figuring out where he was. This was a bed of some sort. Not a particularly comfortable one. The mattress was hard and the sheets had a strange crinkly texture that he didn’t enjoy. The light was bright behind his eyelids. He slowly opened them up, glancing around the room.

A plain space, more like a cell than anything else. Besides the bed he was lying on, there was a table with two chairs and a small alcove blocked off by a curtain. A camera was installed in the corner of the room, dangling from the ceiling. Exactly like the WTCHR cameras JJ had bought from IRIS.

IRIS. This must be in one of their compounds. After they all got knocked out, everyone must have been brought here. They all must be in rooms like this.

Marvin pushed the blankets away and pushed himself up. Then, slowly, carefully, he stood up—ah. Right. He stood up. He hadn’t really had time to process that back in the hospital, since the fight with Distorter had quickly taken priority. But—how the fuck was his leg suddenly healed?! Sure, his legs were shaking now, but that was from his usual fatigue and weak muscles. There was none of the pain he’d expect from a broken leg.

There had to be some sort of explanation, but he couldn’t think of what it could be right now. He slowly walked towards the alcove in the corner, using the wall for support, and pulled away the curtain. A toilet and a sink. Well... good to know. He turned around and walked back to the bed, sitting down, staring blankly forward.

After a moment, he patted himself down, making sure that he had everything. All his clothes were in place. Seemed like they just dumped him in bed fully dressed—

Hang on a moment. Where were his cards? He double checked all his pockets, but—no, his deck of cards was nowhere to be found. “They took my cards?!” Marvin blurted out in shock. “Why?!”

Did they know the powers the card had? Maybe they thought he could use them to escape? Honestly, he probably could, so he could see their reasoning—but it didn’t stop him from being shaken to find them no longer with him.

He pulled his legs back onto the bed, eyes darting around. The door would be locked, wouldn’t it? If they went to the trouble of drugging them and bringing them over, they would surely lock the door. He tried to get up again, but his legs gave out. “Shit!” he cursed. He should’ve used his strength to go check on the door. Sometimes he really hated his body.

He’ll have to wait for a good time to move again. Rest would help with that. Marvin laid down again, kicking off his shoes and trying to go to sleep. But the fear of being in this place made that difficult.

———————

JJ gasped awake, flying up immediately. Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong—

He staggered to his feet, eyes darting around. A door! He rushed for it—but found himself yanked backwards by something wrapped around his ankle. He fell heavily to the ground, then got up and looked back at what stopped him. There was a cuff around his ankle. Made of some sort of white material, connecting him to the floor by a tether made of some flexible half-transparent material. He grabbed onto the tether—felt like plastic—and tried making a knife from magic to slash through it—

Pain raced up his leg and he cried out, collapsing to the floor. What was that?! It must have come from the cuff. But—it looked normal—or as normal as a cuff with a tether could be. How did that happen?

JJ shook his head and tried to push back the panic. He looked around the room, really taking it in for the first time. This was a small room—tiny, really—with white plastic-looking walls and. To his left was a bed, and to his right was a small alcove blocked off by a curtain. Judging by the length of the tether, both of these would be in reach. But the door is too far, the wall in front of him much farther away. The room is rectangular and he’s stuck at one end. Two cameras dangle from the ceiling, in diagonal corners.

And then Jameson looked down at himself. What the hell?! He wasn’t wearing his clothes anymore. Instead, he was wearing a white shirt-and-pants combination that reminded him vaguely of hospital scrubs. When did that happen?! Why did that happen?!

He staggered to his feet. Just to check, he tried a small spell, something to just conjure a few dancing lights—and another shock of pain rushed up from the cuff, sending him slumping back against the wall, breathing heavily. Okay—so no magic. At all. Good to know.

Where was he? The last thing that happened was that man in the white coat throwing that device in the hospital room, filling it with sweet smoke. IRIS. He remembered the logo on the sleeve. So—this must be some sort of IRIS facility, then? The same people who’d done all that to Schneep. What were they planning to do to Jameson? What were they planning to do to the rest of his friends?

Jameson began to hyperventilate. He tried to stop, pressing a hand against his chest, but he couldn’t help it. Tears came to the corners of his eyes, filling his vision, blurring it. It would be fine. It would be fine. It would be fine. It would be fine. He had to believe it would be fine.

But he didn’t believe it at all.

———————

Schneep woke up staring at a blank white ceiling. And yet, despite how featureless the ceiling above was, he instantly knew where he is. He sat up, gasping, and looked around. This room—it wasn’t the same room where they kept him. That room would be burned into his mind forever, a tiny space no bigger than a jail cell with walls made of a strange white material. This room was slightly bigger than that. It had an actual bed instead of a cot attached to the wall. There was an alcove blocked off with a curtain. And there were two cameras attached to the ceiling in diagonal corners. The shape of the room was strange, a long rectangle with him at one end.

He got to his feet quickly, and noticed a pull around his ankle. There was a cuff attaching him to the floor. A white cuff, with a translucent tether. He crouched down again and tugged at it experimentally. It felt solid. And tight against his ankle, too. He couldn't even get a finger underneath—

Wait a second. What was he wearing? These weren’t his clothes! But he did recognize the white pants and shirt. They gave him the same sort of clothes the first time.

He pushed down his fear and stared up into the nearest camera. “W-well—what are you going to do now?!” he demanded. “I thought you were done with me! Weren’t you? I-I heard your white coats say that! D-did you change your mind?” It was a useless question, he knew. Just because IRIS considered him ‘completed’ didn’t mean they were done with him. They were doing this for a purpose.

After a moment of staring at the camera, watching the red light blink, he started walking around, testing the limit of the tether. He could get to the bed and the alcove—which turned out to be a crude bathroom—easily enough. But he couldn’t get to the door. Not even close. He even tried lying on his stomach and stretching out, but his fingers couldn’t even brush the metal.

...he was trapped again.

His heart was pounding in his chest, but he tried not to panic as he got up and walked back over to the bed. He stared up into the camera once more. “Y-you should actually take care of me this time, at least,” he said. “Whatever you want from me, I will be of no use to you if I am suffering.”

He wasn’t expecting an answer. And he didn’t get one.

He couldn’t freak out. He couldn’t break down. The cameras were always watching, and if IRIS saw him break down, they would win. Or—not literally. They probably didn’t care at all about his mental state. But it would mean that they really were affecting him. And he wouldn’t let them have that.

Though the fear inside him was enough to make his hands shake, Schneep laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. He tried not to move. He tried to breathe slowly.

———————

Jackie wasn’t sure how much time passed. There was no clock in the room. And nothing to do. He couldn’t even count the seconds. All he could do was pace in circles as the anxiety mounted.

And then the door opened, and a man walked inside. Jackie whirled around at the sound of the lock turning, and stood there, frozen, as the man closed the door behind him, sat down at the desk, and took out a clipboard. He fiddled with the camera on the tripod and then turned back around. “Hello, Dr. Parker.”

Jackie blinked. “Um... do I... know you?”

“No, but I have read your file, Dr. Parker,” the man said. “You were employed at IRIS recently.”

“‘Were’?”

“Well. Wouldn’t you say running from a compound and taking experimental MR technology with you is grounds for termination?” The man said it in a joking manner, but it just caused a pit of anxiety in Jackie’s stomach. “Please sit down.”

Slowly, Jackie walked over and sat down in the free chair.

“The date is February 29th, 2020, we are interviewing Dr. Jackie Parker,” the man said.

“Um... who are you, by the way?” Jackie asked, trying to hide his concern that a day had passed since IRIS found them in the hospital.

“You can call me Daniel, Dr. Parker. Dr. Parker is a 5 foot 9 inch white man in his early 30s. Dr. Parker was employed at IRIS until February 26th, at which point he fled the compound where he was living, taking with him a prototype MR Headset Pair. He was accompanied by an unknown anomaly and escaped EX subject 1-019—”

“Is that what you’re calling Schneep?!” Jackie gasped.

“Subject 1-019 has since been recaptured,” Daniel continued. He put the clipboard down and looked at Jackie. “Dr. Parker, we have some questions for you.”

“I—I-I—” Jackie stammered. “Am I... W-what are you going to do to me? What are you going to do to my friends?”

“That entirely depends on how you answer these questions, Dr. Parker,” Daniel said calmly.

Jackie stared at him, unsure what to say. He could feel his heart about to pound out of his ribcage.

“Dr. Parker, can you explain why you took the MR Headset Pair that you were entrusted with?” Daniel asked.

“I...” Jackie hesitated. It... would probably be good to tell the truth, right? “I... thought they could help... my friends. F-from ALTR 53815. Or I guess, from the creature attached to it.” To IRIS, the house on Aspen Street was the true anomaly, and Distorter was a side effect. 

“I see.” Daniel wrote something down. “Did you use the Headset Pair in the time since you fled the compound?”

“Y-yes.”

“For what?”

“I... managed to go into my friend Anti’s head,” Jackie said quietly. “He was... in some sort of trance. Caused by the ALTR creature. A-and he was being made to... try and hurt people. So... I went into his head and woke him up.”

“I see.” Daniel wrote another thing down. “You’re referring to the man called ‘Anti’ McLoughlin?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have any contact with ALTR 53815 or 53815-A in the time since you fled the compound?”

“N...no. I don’t think so.” His friends had been the ones to fight off Distorter. He had just stayed in the hospital room.

“I see.” Daniel nodded. “Dr. Parker, when did you come into contact with EX subject 1-019?”

“D-don’t call him that,” Jackie whispered, hands curling into fists by his sides.

“Apologies, Dr. Parker,” Daniel said, sounding not sincere at all. “Now, can you please answer the question?”

“I’m serious. Th-that’s fucked up! It’s really fucked up!” Jackie shook his head. “I know everything you did to him now! A-and I don’t know what you did to Anti, but I can guess!”

“Dr. Parker, when did you come into contact with EX subject 1-019?”

Jackie took a deep breath. Getting angry wouldn’t help anything. He knew that. If he made IRIS angry, they might... well, he’s not sure what they might do. But better safe than sorry, right? “I knew him... before,” he said quietly. “But that was... the first time I’d seen him in... god, it must’ve been weeks.”

Daniel nodded. “And when did you come into contact with that anomaly who was also there that day?”

“The... a-are you talking about Jameson?” Jackie whispered.

“The anomaly was in the form of a 5 foot 9 inch white male with brown hair and facial hair, often giving off blue light,” Daniel explained.

“You... are talking about him.” Jackie’s eyes widened. “He’s not some anomaly, h-he’s a person!”

“He is a person with an anomalous form of energy,” Daniel said.

“Where is he? Wh-where are all of them?!” Jackie leaned forward. “Where are my friends?!”

“They are safe, Dr. Parker, as are you,” Daniel said.

“I don’t believe you.” Jackie shook his head. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“When did you first come in contact with the anomaly who was also there that day?” Daniel repeated.

“I—I-it was years ago! We’ve known each other for years! That’s how I know he’s a person, not an anomaly—though I guess you don’t need to know someone for years to know that they’re a fucking human being!”

Daniel stared at him quietly for a moment. Then he put the clipboard down and folded his arms. “Jackie. IRIS is very disappointed in you.”

“Disappointed?!” Jackie repeated in disbelief.

“We really could have helped you contain ALTR 53815 and its peripheral anomaly. If you had simply asked to use the MR Headsets, we would have granted permission. There was no need to steal them.”

For a split second, Jackie was taken aback. For a split second, he wondered if he made a mistake running off, if he could have worked with IRIS around all this. But then the image of Schneep begging him to leave, screaming about what IRIS had done to his body, flasheD through his mind. And that doubt evaporated. “You guys... y-you’re experimenting on people,” Jackie whispered. “And not just by testing your tech out on them. You’re going so far beyond that. I... I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t.”

Daniel sighed, like a parent with a child who just hadn’t learned their lesson. “Alright, Dr. Parker. We’ll speak with you again later.” He stood up.

“H-hey!” Jackie shot to his feet as well. “What’s happened to my friends?! Are they also going through this?! Or did you ship them off to whatever place Schneep was trapped in?!”

“Get some rest, Dr. Parker,” Daniel said, hurrying over to the door.

“Tell me!” Jackie screamed, running after him—but he’s not fast enough. Daniel closed the door quickly, locking it just as Jackie slammed into it and grabbed the doorknob.

Jackie shuddered. He sank to the ground, gasping, trying to push back tears. 

———————

Marvin only realized he’d fallen asleep again when he was jolted awake by the sound of the door opening. He lifted his head and saw a woman in a white coat walk into the room, her curly blonde hair held back by a headband, carrying a tripod under her arm. She smiled at him. “Hello there.”

“...hello?” Marvin said, confused.

The woman set up the tripod next to the table and sat down at one of the chairs. “Can you please come sit with me?”

Marvin sat up slowly. He tested out his legs—but found that not enough time had passed. He winced. “Ah... d’you mind if I stay over here?”

“You’re out of view of the interview camera over there, unfortunately,” the woman said.

“...huh. I don’ t’ink you understan’, I-I can’ walk that far righ’ now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said. “But we do need you over here.”

Marvin stared at her. She said nothing else. A quiet sort of anger curled around his stomach. Fine, then. He took a deep breath and scooted over to the end of the bed closest to the wall, reaching out and grabbing it to pull himself up. His legs still wobbled, but with the help of the wall he managed to get over to the table, stumbling the last couple steps he took crossing the open floor and practically running into the chair. He adjusted his position, then leaned onto the table, staring at the woman with narrowed eyes.

“Thank you so much,” she said, smiling. Then she looked down at her clipboard. “The date is February 29th, 2020, we are interviewing an unknown man. Please introduce yourself for the camera, sir.”

“...Marvin. Marvin Moore,” he said slowly.

“Mr. Moore is a 5 foot 11 inch white male with brown hair and weakened muscles, especially in the legs, likely as a result of childhood illness,” the woman said.

Marvin tensed. “How d’you know about t’at?”

“He was caught with Dr. Jackie Parker, a former IRIS employee who took confidential IRIS technology from a compound, as well as ‘Anti’ McLoughlin, a subject exposed to ALTR 53815, an unknown anomaly, and escaped EX subject 1-019, all of whom have since been captured—”

“I’m sorry?!” Marvin gasped.

“Mr. Moore also had an anomaly in his person, in the form of a deck of cards with strange designs on the back,” the woman said.

“My cards!” Marvin leaned forward. “You took them from me! Why?”

“Because, Mr. Moore, anomalies such as that could be dangerous,” the woman said personally.

“N-no, those aren’—those are mine, I-I know how they work,” Marvin protested. “They’re not dangerous at all.”

“We cannot be sure about that, Mr. Moore,” the woman said, her tone condescendingly gentle. “It’s better safe than sorry.”

“But... they’re... they’re mine,” Marvin said numbly, unsure how to protest this.

“Are they, Mr. Moore?” the woman asked. “Because we did some cursory tests and research on these cards. They’re styled in the manner of cards printed several decades ago, but the material they’re made of only seems to be ten years old at most.”

“Ah...” Marvin hesitated. Every instinct told him that IRIS shouldn’t know the reality of his situation. Of where he came from. Or, rather, when he came from. “They’re... replicas. I-I bought them at a tiny shop some years ago.”

“Do you remember the name of the shop?”

Marvin shook his head. It wasn’t a lie. He really didn’t remember. He’d never been back to the shop after buying the cards, either.

“I see.” The woman nodded. “Mr. Moore, have you ever heard of ALTR 53815?”

“I... don’ t’ink so?” He said, confused.

“When did you first come into contact with ALTR 53815?”

“I—I don’ know, I can’ know anyt’ing unless I know what that ‘alter’ thing is, can I?”

The woman hummed, then started to get up. “Well. We’ll be seeing you, Mr. Moore.”

“Wait, wait.” He leaned forward, reaching out, asking her to stop. “Ye can’ expect me to jus’ stay in here! What abou’ my friends?! Where are they?”

“They are safe, Mr. Moore, don’t worry,” the woman said. “No doubt undergoing the same thing you are.”

“And what am I undergoing?!” Marvin demanded. “Why am I in here?! I’m not—not’ing has happened to me!”

“Get some rest, Mr. Moore, you’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” The woman smiled at him, then headed for the door.

“Wait! You can’ jus’ leave me here!” Marvin pushed himself up with the help of the table. “Not without some answers!”

“We’ll be back soon, Mr. Moore,” the woman said cheerfully and quickly walked over to the door. Marvin stood where he was and watched her leave, locking the door behind her. A vague sense of despair pooled in his stomach as he made his way back to the bed to lie down.

———————

When the door finally opened, Jameson’s face was streaked with panicked tears as he sat up against the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. He quickly wiped his face as best he could before looking over towards it. A woman in a white coat walked into the room, her black hair cut in a pixie style. Two people came in with her, wearing black uniforms with helmets that covered their features. Guards. What did Jackie say they were called? Right, C&C. He couldn’t remember what that stood for right now. Had Jackie even explained that?

“Please stand up,” the woman said, her face blank and completely empty of emotion.

JJ stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment.

“Please stand up,” she said again. “Cooperation is necessary.”

Shivers crawled along his skin. He slowly got up, and the woman hurried towards him, taking something out of her pocket. Before he could react, she was right by him, measuring him—because that small object from her pocket turned out to be an extendable measuring tape. She grabbed his arms, measuring their length, wrapped it around his chest, then his waist, put the end on the ground and measured his legs, then wrapped it around his wrists, ankles, and neck. All before he could so much as process what she was doing. Then she stepped back again.

Excuse me? JJ signed, and then realized that these people might not know BSL. He’d have to use his voice, wouldn’t he? Well, then he should choose what to say carefully since his throat would hurt quickly.

The woman put the measuring tape away and pulled something else out. Some sort of handheld device; it reminded JJ of the geiger counters seen in movies and games. She pointed it at him, moving it up and down—scanning him.

“Ex...cuse me?” JJ asked in his hoarse voice. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, but her eyes did flick down to his neck, where the faint scars of Distorter’s attack could still be seen.

“What are you doing?” JJ asked again.

Still not answering, the woman put the handheld device away and took something else out—a syringe of some kind, though it was a bit bulkier than any syringe Jameson had ever seen. She reached for his arm and Jameson immediately balked, yanking his arm away. “Please cooperate,” she said, walking closer.

He backed up into the wall, shaking his head. “Can—can you explain?!” His voice cracked with fear on the last word. He didn’t want them to inject him with anything!

“If you do not cooperate, we will use force,” the woman said calmly. Behind her, the C&C guards stepped forward.

Jameson’s eyes darted to them, then back to the woman. With his magic not working, he’d be no match for either of them. And though he really wants to try and shield himself somehow, he doesn’t want to be shocked—or whatever it was—either. So, reluctantly, he held out his arm.

The woman took it, plunging the syringe into the crook of his arm. JJ gasped in surprise as it hurt far more than expected. And soon the empty vial of the syringe filled up with red liquid. His blood. They’d taken his blood, and done it surprisingly quickly. Drawing blood usually took at least thirty seconds, but that was barely five, if even that at all. She quickly stepped back, tapping the side of the syringe and squinting at the blood within.

“What... are you doing?” Jameson asked again. “Please. Tell me.”

No answer. The woman turned around, heading back towards the door.

“Please!” Jameson shouted, then coughed as pain scraped through his throat.

The woman didn’t even look back at him as he coughed furiously. She simply opened the door and left, the two C&C guards going with her.

As JJ stared at the door as it closed, a bit of uncharacteristic anger curled around his stomach. He couldn’t believe that they were doing this to him. Were they doing something like this to his friends? Why?! What did they ever do to deserve this?!

But then the door locked, and the anger was quickly snuffed out by fear. He sank back down to the ground and tried not to fall back into panic. What did IRIS want with him? Were they... going to do the same thing to him that they did to Schneep? Why did they even do that to him in the first place? Did they want to make Schneep a weapon? Were they going to make Jameson into one as well?

He buried his head in his arms, thoughts spinning through his mind, drawing him into a whirlpool of anxiety that he couldn’t swim back out of.

———————

Schneep’s eyes snapped open the moment he heard the door open. He sat up straight and saw two guards in black uniform walk into the room, followed by a guard wearing a uniform with white highlights and a redheaded man in a white coat. Schneep recognized that man instantly. He’d come to think of him as a “handler,” of sorts, as he was the one Schneep had most seen during his first captivity here—the scientist who worked with him most often. And he did use the phrase “worked with him” in the most literal way. “You,” Schneep growled.

“Hello 1-019,” the handler said calmly. “Before you say anything, I will tell you that we have a disabling signal ready at the first sign of aggression. It has since been proven to work, as you no doubt remember.”

Schneep clenched his fists and glared, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to experience the signal again. He didn’t want to feel so helpless.

The handler paused, gauging his reaction. “Thank you,” he said, as soon as it became clear that Schneep wouldn’t be fighting back. “Now stand up.”

Slowly, Schneep did so, standing stiff and straight as a pole. The handler walked over and took out some sort of measuring tape, using it to measure out Schneep’s height, then the length of his limbs, then the circumference of his chest, waist, wrists, ankle, and neck. Schneep tried not to show his discomfort. Tried not to squirm or shudder or shout as this happened. Though as the measuring tape went around his neck he was barely able to restrain himself from shoving the handler away. He trembled, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, forcing back the rage and sick panic that filled his whole body.

The handler stepped back, retracting the measuring tape and putting it back into his pocket. He then pulled out a syringe instead. “Arm.”

“Fuck you,” Schneep whispered, but held out his arm anyway.

“Stay calm, 1-019,” the handler said as he drew blood from the crook of Schneep’s arm. “You will be safe.”

“S-sure, of course,” Schneep muttered. He did believe him, in some way. IRIS wouldn’t want all their hard work to go to waste, would they?

The handler finished with the syringe, putting it back into his pocket. Then he held out his hand and looked back at the guards. One of the ones in black walked on over, and Schneep noticed for the first time that he was holding a small black briefcase. The guard opened it up, and the handler reached in and took out a small handheld device connected to the interior of the briefcase by a black coiled wire. The other briefcase lid flickered on, revealing itself to be a screen of some kind. “Stay still,” the handler said, and began scanning Schneep with the device.

Schneep did stay still, if only because his eyes were locked onto the screen on the inside of the briefcase lid. This was some sort of X-ray machine. He could see a live feed of his bones as the handler scanned him from the feet up. His bones... and all the other things inside him. Darker gray shapes running parallel to the white of his bones, tiny gray lines running through his muscles. As the scan reached his hands, he saw flat circles under his palms and fingertips, connected together with thin wires. Then it reached his torso, where his stomach and chest were crowded with gray shapes, and up to his head, where he could see small squares in a couple places around his skull.

Sick horror filled his stomach, climbing up his neck towards his mouth. It was all he could do to keep standing there and not collapse to his knees.

The handler finished and put the handheld scanner back into the briefcase. The screen flicked off and the guard closed it. “We will examine that later,” the handler said. “Get comfortable, 1-019. We will return later once we have finished your assessment.”

Schneep nodded slowly.

And with that, the handler and the three guards left him.

He stood there for a while, the X-ray’s images still flashing through his mind.

———————

Anti didn’t know how much time he spent waiting for something to happen. It must have been a long, long time, though, as he had worn out all forms of entertaining himself. The bouncy ball had lost its allure a while ago, and he tired himself out by trying to exercise. He fell asleep for a while. Then woke up, and found himself still alone.

He looked up at the camera. “So... you guys are uh... just gonna leave me this time, then? What’re you even doing?”

There was, of course, no response.

“Last time I was here, an alarm went off, didn’t it?” Anti recalled. “You were going to move me somewhere. But now I’m back in this room. So... whatever happened was taken care of, was it?” He paused, struggling to remember what happened. His memories were crowded by the long dream Distorter had kept him in.

Distorter.

Anti’s eyes widened and he stood up. “Oh fuck. He killed a lot of your guys, didn’t he? Or—maybe he controlled you to kill each other?” He laughed. “Seems like something he would do.”

He walked over to the chair and climbed on top of it so he could stare closer at the camera. “Are you waiting for him to show up again?” he asked. “Is that why I’m back in here? Am I the bait?”

Somehow, that felt right.

“Then... what happened to the others?” he asked. “Did you take them for bait, too? Are they somewhere in here, too?!” He shook his head. “You’re probably real fucking interested in Jackson, aren’t you?” he muttered.

He got off the chair. “Well fine! You win for now! But I swear, you’ve gotten in over your head! We’ll find a way out of here!”

He wasn’t sure how much he believed that. But he held onto it. He just needed to find a way to contact the others. If they could find each other, they could get out of here. They would get out of here. He refused to consider anything else.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #antisepticeye #programmer anti #jackieboy man #dr jackie parker #marvin the magnificent #1920s marvin #jameson jackson #the jaunty jackson #dr schneeplestein #von voltage #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

[whiskehorange]

Spooky Nights - 24 Hour Fears! (2022)

A Halloween Special! Only one of the most important nights in horror, how could I not! I’m taking this into a more comedic and lighthearted way, making this as fun as possible for you!

I know I've skipped 2 whole years with this but I think from now on I'm going to try to keep up with All the major holidays from here on out!

Have a Happy & Spooky Halloween kiddos!

Jason

His Fear: Small Rodents

How Its Handled: You're saying you want to witness the absolute most gut wrenching and haywire seen with a deadman and a bunch of rodents trapped in the same room for 24 hours? It looks like a cartoon tornado with machetes, arms, and small furry legs sticking out of the sides. Jason is the elephant to their mice and he's going to be climbing up walls to get away from them the entire night. Notice how you haven't seen a single squirrel in his forrest 🤔

Does He Survive: It's a close call, check his pulse- oh... wait.

Michael

His Fear: His food touching

How Its Handled: The small metallic trays. The silent lunchrooms. The monitors. The cold cafeteria floors. The slop of food on his tray, that was the only thing the ward ever did right; section his food. Who knows what would have happened to the lunch ladies if they but his green beans on his mashed potatoes. You're going to need the heaviest restraints you have when you serve his food looking like one single clump of grease on that plate. Get him a god damn stack of ZooPals

Does He Survive: Absolutely, but whoever's serving him doesn't

Freddy

His Fear: Astral Projection

How Its Handled: What's worse than him seeing what you're dreaming about? Seeing that you're the only controlling it. You sick fucks dream of the most god awful things he's ever seen he feels the need to take vacations from the sights he's seen. You're able to almost stand toe to toe with him when he attempts to terrorize him. Power addict much?

Does He Survive: He'll be fine, he'll suck it up but god does it tire him to sit and watch you guys make out with fictional men and kill your family members.

Thomas

His Fear: Bugs, but mainly the roaches.

How Its Handled: Much like Jason, he's the elephant and the roaches are the mice. Tommy just about has the worst breakdown he's ever had stuck in the barn full of roaches on the rotten meat. Normally he's alright with a few here and there on the meat he's getting rid of but more than 3? Absolutely not. He looks like he's breaking it down on the dance floor with all the swatting and stepping he's doing. You should hear the crunches.

Does He Survive: He think he's dead and gone

Billy & Stu

Their Fear: Their sexuality

How Its Handled: Billy's toxic masculinity will catch up with him eventually, this challenge is just like spending a whole day with Stu and Stu only and for Stu just spending it with Billy. These two are a walking contradiction that share two brain cells every other day and don't realize that they radiate the same energy. Billy is constantly suppressing his thoughts and that's why he's a killer. Angry closeted cis white men are a dangerous force let alone TWO OF THEM WHO JUST NEED TO MAKE OUT ALREADY

Does He Survive: Just wait until Billy finds out he's in the closet with you all

Norman

His Fear: Loud Noises

How Its Handled: Norman is a chihuahua on the Fourth of July: shaking with no thoughts and crying. You should seen him every New Years shut away in his house with the entire room blacked out and everything you can imagine on and running to drown out any noise. Having to sit and just listen to balloons popping and alarms is going to make him crawl up in the fetal positions covering his ears and screaming to drown it out

Does He Survive: Let him pop some Paxil and he'll survive

Hannibal

His Fear: Germaphobe warning!!

How Its Handled: You want to see a man scrubbing his skin off and bleaching away his own senses in an endless loop? It's like watching a man on the verge of life or death if he doesn't make a room spotless (that's actually exactly what this is). This is the most unprofessional you will ever see him and probably the only time you will ever see him sweat bullets. He doesn't even get this nervous when someones onto him about his... diet.

Does He Survive: Hannibal? Yes. His Fingertips? No

Bo

His Fear: Rejection

How Its Handled: Bo needs to get laid and he thinks he's entitled to it. You put him in a room full of people and NO ONE wants to get with him? Bo no longer has an ego and will make it known with his salty little 'tude. God forbid he thinks it may have something to do with his personality or the way he speaks to and about people, no no no it's all you guys are you suck.

Does He Survive: He throws a little fit, but ignore him and he'll get up eventually

Vincent

His Fear: Cats

How Its Handled: They're fine from a distance far far away from Ambrose. Vincent would absolutely be a cat and a kitten person if he wasn't slightly allergic and they weren't filled with spite. Watching those demons get hair everywhere and lie all over his sketches and get cat hair in every single thing he has ever made? He's mortified

Does He Survive: He's puffy, but he lives to see another day.

Lester

His Fear: Chainmail

How Its Handled: It's like that one episode of Spongebob where Patrick's being told to "Get outta town!" and he thinks someone is going to show up to his shack and murder him. He doesn't even have a phone but you send him a bunch of mail directly and a bunch of emails to the family computer and get Bo to convince him that these are real and he'll be on the look out for the man that's supposed to show up at the foot of his bed tonight.

Does He Survive: He will, but he'll be on edge for a year until he's certain they won't be able to find him if he's constantly moving

Brahms

His Fear: Vegetables

How Its Handled: Be deadass with me and tell me he wouldn't throw a complete fucking tantrum if you but a few pieces of broccoli with his dinner and made him eat it. This is a man child who will never in the life of him eat something green that isn't candy or maybe even a drink. Brahms has the nose of a hound dog so don't think you can even slip something into his food without him knowing and calling you a dirty liar and traitor

Does He Survive: You might not having to pick him up off of the floor after his countless meltdowns

Asa

His Fear: Dairy

How Its Handled: ow tummy hurty ploorp oh god plffft brrrrmpt oh no pfft sploosh grrgle

Does He Survive: It burns

Pyramid Head

His Fear: Pregnant women

How Its Handled: It grosses him out and he's not scared of anything in this entire world besides the wrath of a pregnant woman and will do anything to stay out of their way. He can small the little shit in there and the pheromones radiating out of yall. What's worse, Pyramid Head himself or a pre-school on a week day? He knows what his answer is.

Does He Survive: Financially? Not if it's his

Pinhead

His Fear: Hand sanitizer/Rubbing alcohol

How Its Handled: At first it's pretty good, kinda smells good and makes his skin kinda glossy, it's great. But then... it goes into his eyes and bit and into his silly little pinholes. The first sting catches him off guard but it's nice, he thinks. Then it burns and burns and burn and it keeps burning. His impulses has finally gotten to the best of him when he's on the ground suffering from too much pleasure and as stiff as a board, overstimulated to the max as it takes 30 entire minutes to just dry the first coat.

Does He Survive: Not an enjoyable experience at all, at least not for a whole 24 hours

#jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #michael myers x reader #halloween #freddy krueger x reader #nightmare on elm street #thomas hewitt x reader #leathreface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #bill yloomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #scream #norman bates x reader #hannibal x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax #slasher x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #the boy #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #the collection #pyramid head x reader #silent hill #pinhead x reader #hellraiser

[aphrodites-law]

for flame ❛ you’re beautiful, you know that? ❜

or for soldier ❛ will i see you again? ❜ or ❛ are you here to kill me? ❜

"Are you here to kill me?" Clarke asks.

Her apartment is smaller than Lexa expected. It’s a nice, secure building in the nicest area of the city. There’s a concierge. She imagined something like her penthouse. Marble, high quality wood and expensive art on the walls. Open spaces and big windows. Instead it looks like any other place. Cramped with well-used furniture. Tired plants here and there. Family pictures on the walls. 

And her.

Pictures of her. 

“Depends,” she answers. 

She knows everything there is to know about Clarke Griffin by now. Daughter of Jake Griffin, their fucking mayor, and Abigail Griffin, a surgeon who seems to spend more time on TV sets than in surgery. Clarke herself is a painter, of course, because who else but a rich daddy’s girl to succeed as an artist? 

"I know what you did,” Clarke says, voice shaking and eyes wet. “But it’s not you, Lex.”

“If you knew me at all you’d know I hate nicknames.” 

She sees the pain flash on Clarke’s face and it unsettles her. It should feel good to have that power. 

“You need to stop sniffing around,” she tells her coldly. “You have no fucking clue what you’re digging into.”

Clarke doesn’t move from behind the kitchen table, as if it can protect her. But Lexa isn’t actually here to kill. She shouldn’t even be here at all. 

“What did they do to you?” Clarke asks. 

“Gave me a life.”

Clarke shakes her head and moves away from the table, inching toward her. “You had a life. You worked harder than anyone I know—”

“And you liked having a charity project, didn’t you? Making me feel like I owed you?”

“No, you didn’t take a dime from me. You were proud and I loved—love that about you, even if yes, sometimes I wished you’d let me.”

“Nobody looked for me,” Lexa spits out. “Least of all you.”

“That’s not true!” Clarke exclaims. “I looked for months. I never stopped, Lexa. I looked even when the cops told me it was a closed case. I don’t know what those sick, twisted people filled your head with, but none of it is true. We were together. We loved each other.”

At that, Lexa feels anger flare inside her. “I’d never love you,” she spits out. 

“Lexa-”

“I’d fuck rich,” she tells her with a dark smile, “but I’d never love it.” 

Clarke feels her heart shatter and her pleas die in her throat. It’s like hearing a stranger. A hateful, cruel stranger. Yet it’s the woman she loves. Beneath it all, it has to be. 

“Whatever I did, I did it to survive,” Lexa continues. “I can imagine it. Easy rich girl, comfortable bed, stocked fridge…” 

“Stop,” Clarke whispers, “It wasn’t like that.” 

“Is that what this is about?” Lexa asks, cornering her against the counter. “You’re upset your little toy left before you could ditch it?” 

Clarke shakes her head, holding her gaze. They’re so close she can see her eyes clearer now, but the green and grey shades have turned darker, almost unrecognisable. They’ve done something to her. To her mind and her body. Clarke wants to weep, but she knows it’ll make Lexa glad. 

“I’m sorry you could even believe that,” she says. “But I’m not giving up on you. You’ll have to kill me.” 

They are so close she can feel the heat of Lexa’s body. It’s not natural—something else they changed about her. Clarke hates them for it, even if they don’t have a face yet. 

“It would be easy,” Lexa murmurs, eyes glancing at her lips. “Probably my easiest yet.”

“Good,” Clarke snaps, “Then do it. Get it over with.” 

Lexa reaches for her hip, her fingers pressing into her skin. Clarke holds her breath, heart pounding. 

“I wonder what I thought, when I held you like this before,” Lexa muses aloud. 

Clarke clings to hope she can connect to a part of her. That she can reach her somehow. How can you erase a person’s entire existence? Their feelings? “I want you to listen to something. Something that’s kept me going for months. Then you can tell me if I’m stupid for still believing in us."

She reaches for her phone on the counter, aware that Lexa follows her every move like a hawk. She knows she wouldn’t stand a chance if she tried to run, not that she would try. Her body feels exhausted. 

With a shaky hand, she finds her messages and presses play on the only one she’s ever kept: 

“It’s me,” Lexa says softly. “Sorry if it’s loud, I’m on the train. You’re probably in the shower or something. I wish I’d stayed longer.” There’s a rattling sound and then Lexa seems to find a quieter spot. “I’m sorry I left in a rush. I got spooked. And I know it’s a thing you’re supposed to do in person but… I—I love you, too. You just took me by surprise. I thought you were fucking with me, honestly. That’s how fucked the whole thing is—Fuck, sorry, I said I’d stop swearing so much.” Lexa huffs like she's exasperated with herself. “I should’ve stayed. I love you. I don’t need a list, do I? Well, your tits are at the top.” There’s a pause and a sigh. “That’s not romantic. You know what I mean. I’m shit at this. Your smile is at the top. Your voice. The way you... When you look at me. Yeah. I think that’s the best feeling in the world—being seen by you. Waking up next to you. I’m sorry I couldn't say it to your face. But I will. I just needed... Needed to get it out like this first. Alright, that’s it. You’ll say I’m rambling again because I’m nervous. You’re probably right. I love you, Clarke. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

When the message ends, Lexa glances back at her, her eyes impassive. She retracts her hand and steps away, but Clarke can’t read her at all. She’d been so sure it would jolt something in Lexa. At least a memory. A feeling. But her face shows nothing. Somehow, it’s worse than anger. 

“One day,” Lexa starts, her voice flat but not cruel this time, “you’ll chase your ghost too far and it’ll get you killed.” 

Clarke feels her hope crumble then, but still she pushes through the pain. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Lexa nods, then walks away. “Guess so.”

#f: soldier #w #clexa

[frutavel]

i saw you tagged an oc named samaela on my post. who are they im curious. please share with the class 👀

(aka “i made that post about a character archetype i love and getting to hear about new characters that fit that archetype is literally the best case scenario for me”)

Oh hi for the love of god hello!!!

This is Samaela. My babygirl. I desperately wish I had more recent art of her to share, but alas I don't. A quick scroll through my blog also shows that Most of the posts I've made talking about her are also a few years old and outdated at this point but rest assured I think about her Constantly.

Samaela is a World of Warcraft OC, and also one of my oldest OCs in general regardless of fandom/universe. Long story short, she's a Forsaken hunter with little to no memory of her past life but Vivid memory of her death (by werewolf) and a history of making bad decisions in the name of Living Deliciously.

She was resurrected post Death By Werewolf, and the process caused her to Become Werewolf. Sorta. She's a weird little fiend and an abomination even by undead standards, which leads to her necromancer running All Sorts of Tests and Experiements. Now those aren't as bad or nefarious as they sound, really, but Samaela gets tired of being a science project pretty quick, so she moves as far away from her necromancer as she can, makes a few friends and enters a 2-ish year long situationship with her Boybestfriend, during which she indulges in many bad habits such as hunting living humans for sport and eating them, which garners her a reputation for being vicious and needlessly cruel. She regrets some of it sometimes, mostly she doesn't care, and gets off mostly scotch free because she's very good at weaving stories that paint her in a good light, and her folks don't like humans anyway. Which just emboldens her.

(Here seen with her Boybestfriend, Tari, my other babygirl, after a bad hunt)

Eventually her Boybestfriend has to leave, and she is Very Sad about it but they part amicably. Unfortunately having her voice of reason and only person whom she trusted in this whole wide world move away makes her Worse. She continues to be Very Good At Lying, but still ends up in trouble with the authorities a handful of times, some friends turn their back on her as a result and she makes self preservation her number one priority. This leads to a sleuth of Decisions which eventually end up putting the life of someone at risk, someone Very Important to her Boybestfriend, and once he finds out their relationship cracks even more. She jumps to anger and resentment straight on and continues to push people away and make more Choices, until her own life is put at risk and she's forced to rethink.

Currently she's at this rethinking stage. She doesn't regret most of the things she did, but she regrets the things that affected her personally. Empathy is a hard concept for her to grasp, but she's willing to make an effort for her own sake. At her core she still wants to survive above all else, and if that means letting people help her..... well, she doesn't like it but she'll think about it.

Samaela is Difficult, and she will never not be. She needs a strong support system to help her, but unfortunately the mere thought of letting her walls down and being vulnerable makes her sick. She is hard to get along with and harder to like.... but a handful of people have gone through the effort it takes to love her all the same. That's enough for now to keep her from spiraling more, but her fate is very uncertain. She has many amends to make and she's not exactly willing to make all of them, but her self preservation instinct is so strong it might as well push her in that direction even if just to keep herself alive.

Despite her many Ls she has many Ws. Women want her. Men fear her. She fucks hard and nasty. She makes dioramas in her spare time. She is surprisingly good at keeping people safe. She likes the color green so much she always has at least One green acessory on her at all times. She's not very good at swimming but still loves the beach. She has a gender that can be best described as Indescribable. Woman, but watch out. She can also pretty effectively communicate with her hunting dogs due to her mutations, and her insides are so rancid due to the Experiments that getting bitten by her in an immediate death sentence, and she is quite fond of biting. Because of this some have taken to calling her Plaguehound <3

As for her previous life.... well that's a whole other mess. All I'll say is that she has two living siblings, one who hasn't given up looking for her, but neither one would recognize her now, and it's unlikely she'd recognize them either. She barely remembers enough about her human life to know her name, much less about her family.

In fact, she has met her older sister in the past. It didn't end well for the sister in question. Dog fights are gnarly 💖

#asks answered #gumy-shark #oc:samaela #she is a mess and i am deeply obsessed with her #her voiceclaim is glaze/woodentoaster. yes the rainbow factory/awoken/beyond her garden/nightmare night/prototype vip guy #her sister survived the encounter also but not unscathed and possibly traumatized #granted she attacked sammy first and sammy didn't know it was her sister but also #chances are nothing would have changed if sammy did know. #they never had the best relationship and sammy might not remember the reason but she remembers the spite #she and tari are sorta making amends. they will probably never be as close as they used to be anymore but they're making steps #not sure where they're going but they're goinf #she sorta made amends with her necromancer too. sammy still doesn't trust her with anything relating to her body tho

[selanpike]

When You First Met: mobswitch fic

henlo friends i come to you with a lil fanfic based on a concept i’ve been toying with in RP: what if scoff and scout actually met before scoff was a big mobster

Fandom: MSPA/Mobsterswitch Pairings: hopeless SSPS

--

When you first met him, he was different.

You and he were regulars at the same bar. It was a hole in the wall, the kind of place so thick with smoke that you felt like you could cut the air with a knife. The bartenders sold all sorts of things on the side, and the bathroom stalls had no doors, but the drinks were the cheapest in town. Sometimes there would be karaoke and you could have a good laugh.

He was always chatty, talking to–and flirting with–anyone who gave him a chance. Eventually he saw that chance with you, and invited you out with him on a job. You were broke as hell–you always were–so you agreed, even knowing who he worked for. You were as crooked as anyone else in this town.

He asked your name, but you told him you were between names. 

“Jus’ call me SS,” you said.

He nodded, saying he was in a similar boat. He said to call him Sol in the meantime.

He was handsome, and that’s why you ever gave him the time of day. He was well-dressed, or at least, was trying to be–his clothes were well-fitted but worn. His eyes were brilliantly green, which almost distracted you from how tired they looked. He had a tie in a matching green, the only splash of color on his otherwise monochrome attire.

He needed into a building. He had the security codes, but not a key. The garage door could open a little without it, but not enough for him to fit through. 

He’d picked you because you were small.

Still, once the two of you were inside, he cracked the cash registers open and told you to take what you wanted. You’d stuffed your pockets full before you realized he wasn’t doing the same. Instead, he was kicking whatever papers he could onto the floors. Then, he took a bottle of vodka–he’d snatched it from the bar on your way out–and started spreading the fluid around on the kindling he’d spread.

You realized what he was doing.

“You ain’t gotta be here for this part.” He winked at you while he produced a matchbook.

You ran for it while he struck a match. You’ll never forget the way he laughed as the building went up. For the next week, you pored over the newspapers, afraid that there would be a headline about someone being inside that building and dying. No such headline ever ran.

The next time you met, he was less manic. He was halfway through a bottle, face down on the bar counter. You pulled up a stool and asked him if he’d run out of things to burn.

“Fuck you,” he replied. “‘M so fuckin’ sick of it.”

“Sick’f what?”

He explained how he’d been working for Kingpin since pretty much the day he rolled in from the wasteland. Kingpin was a miserable boss. Sol kept trying to rise the ranks, but never made it past grunt work.

“I enjoy lightin’ a fire’s much’s the next guy,” he said. “But it ain’t all I wanna do. I was built t’ lead.”

“Y’ can always start your own gang,” you say, before taking a drink. “Not that it’d last that long. Kingpin ain’t exactly friendly to competition.”

“Start my own ‘n knock Kingpin down a few pegs,” he said, miserably.

You drank together that night, commiserating over your various woes. You and he had a lot in common. You hated the same things. You were both miserable with your lots in life. You both desperately needed a change.

Drinking with him became a nightly event. You found yourself looking forward to it, always looking for some event in your day that would be a good story to tell him. Vandalism and petty theft never felt so good before him. You felt less frustrated with life when you were with him–less worthless. He would shower you with compliments, whether it was over your knifework or how easily you could pick a pocket. He even complimented your looks. It made you question his taste, but you knew he was earnest. You could feel the sincerity in the gentle way he kissed you, and looked for any opportunity to put his hands on you. 

He first made his offer sitting on your bed, smoking a cigarette. He was naked but for a strip of your blanket strewn over his lap, and it took you a moment to realize he’d spoken at all. You were too busy counting the scars on his tan skin.

“I said–” he said, with exaggerated annoyance. “We’re goin’ for it. I got a group, we’re gonna take Kingpin on.”

“You’re gonna get killed,” you replied, as you held a hand out.

He passed you the cigarette, and you took a deep drag as he spoke.

“Ain’t gonna pretend that ain’t a risk. Hell, I won’t even ask ya’ t’ join me.”

You breathed out, letting the smoke waft above you. “Good, ‘cause there’s no way in hell.”

“But if’n we do it,” he said, carefully. “I’ll give ya’ a job. You’ll have a place with us.” Then, his voice smaller, “With me.”

You threw a pillow at him and made fun of him for being a sap. He laughed and played along, and the both of you ignored the hollow pits in your stomachs as you pretended that emotions and sentiment were bullshit that you didn’t care about. 

You started to see him less. Days would go by without him making an appearance at the bar, and he rarely answered his phone. He was always apologetic–there was just so much going on, he told you, and he didn’t want to drag you into it. Days became weeks. Eventually he stopped answering his phone altogether. The last time you saw him at the bar, he looked haggard. He kissed you, hard and fast, and told you, 

“I promise. When this’s done, I’ll have a job for ya’. No more bein’ underfoot. It’ll be you ‘n me at the top.”

“Yeah,” you said, not believing it at all. “You ‘n me.”

His kiss left an acrid taste on your lips. Maybe it’s what death tastes like.

After he was gone, you spiraled. Every day you became more sure that he was face down in a ditch, and every day you went a little more apeshit. Rock bottom found you in a holding cell downtown, counting your bruises when Deadeye Detective came by to say hello.

You knew each other back on Prospit. During the war. You weren’t close, but you knew each other well enough for you to feel ashamed at him seeing you like this.

He bailed you out, and he got the charges dropped. He knew a few people, was able to pull some strings. He saved you that night. Not just from your legal troubles, but from yourself. He offered you a job, helped you clean up your mess of a life. Soon enough you were frequenting different bars, with different friends, and you weren’t staring at that empty space on the bar counter anymore.

It was a year before you saw him again. It wasn’t in person.

He was on the TV in your office, and it took you a moment to process. The news anchor referred to him as Peccant Scofflaw, an up and coming real estate mogul. He was well dressed, and his suit looked brand-new, tailored, sharp. He had a fresh haircut and a clean shave. His green eyes seemed brighter than before, and the tie was brighter to match. 

He smiled broadly, and every movement was smooth, calculated, charming. Like the version of him you knew was a rough stone that now had been polished into something gleaming and beautiful and utterly unrecognizable.

His skin was grey. Suddenly you could taste his acrid goodbye kiss all over again. You’d heard stories about the Dersites’ dark gods, but you’d never actually…

“That’s him,” Deadeye said.

You were bewildered at Deadeye recognizing him, and wondered whether Dee knew about this guy from your past, until he continued.

“This Peccant Scofflaw is the one who took over Kingpin’s organization. Responsible for Kingpin’s disappearance, too. Allegedly.” He adds the allegedly in a way that meant that he knew damn well that his accusations were true.

“He’s…” You pause, trying to settle on the right thing to say. “Grey.”

Deadeye nodded, flipping through his papers. “It seems he and his accomplices made deals with the Terrors. All of them have powers of some kind. Can only imagine that’s what let them get anywhere near Kingpin.”

Deadeye, it seemed, had been following Scofflaw’s meteoric rise. Scofflaw and his friends had been methodically killing Kingpin’s closest allies, bribing cops, making friends downtown. Dee had already had a few run-ins with them as of late, and he made a point to know what hazards his men would encounter in the future. 

This was a hazard that seemed all but unavoidable now, he said. Butting heads with Peccant Scofflaw was going to be the name of the game soon enough.

When you got home that night, you lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. He was alive. You’d mourned him and he was alive the whole time.

He actually made it. He did what he set out to do. And meanwhile, you…

When a letter arrived later that week, you weren’t surprised. It had been slipped under your door, a black envelope with “for SS” written on the front with neon green ink. The paper inside just said:

Club Twilight. Usual time. Show this letter to the bouncer.

P.S.

When quitting time came, you declined your co-workers’ offers to hang out and went out into the night alone. You walked the whole way there, trying to think of what to say to him. Trying to anticipate how he’ll react to what you are now, how you’ll react to what he is now.

Club Twilight wasn’t new, but the name was. Some time ago it had been branded differently, something hoity-toity and regal. It had remodeled recently, under new management, and it occurred to you now who the new management obviously was. It had always been a popular place for the city’s well-to-do to drink, dance and exclude anyone who didn’t meet their standards, but it’d gained a new lease on life with its younger, hipper new ownership.

Sure enough, flashing the letter gets you right in, despite the long line of wannabe elites queued up at the entrance. You’re escorted past the bar and the dancefloor to a private booth. It’s quieter here, the music dulled so that it can’t impede conversation. He’s waiting for you there. He looks exactly as he did on television, and his smile is tight and controlled as he thanks the bouncer for showing you here. He asks the bouncer to fetch him drinks. Soon enough, you had a glass of the most expensive bourbon in town sitting in front of you.

Once the bouncer is gone and it’s just the two of you, his posture shifts. His smile becomes more like the one you’re used to, and when he looks you in the eye you get that old familiar fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“Surprise!” he says, and he reaches over to give you a little shove. “Didn’t think I could do it, didja?”

You shake your head, chuckling. “I thought y’ were dead. Started wonderin’ if I should hold a, I dunno, a funeral or somethin’.”

“Didn’t mean t’ worry ya’,” he said, before taking a drink. “Things got dicey. Had t’ cut contact with anyone not in my circle. Kingpin woulda’ killed anyone he thought I’d miss.”

There were so many things you wanted to ask. Why did he do it? Why was it so important? What did he have to do to get all of this? What is he willing to do to keep it? Why couldn’t he just stay with you? Why weren’t you enough?

What you actually said was, “Yeah, okay.”

“But I did it!” he continues, not missing a beat. “Th’ old man’s dead ‘n buried, ‘n I’m in charge now. At the rate we’re going, we’ll have the whole city consolidated under us within a month, and–”

“‘We’?”

“My guys, you know! I toldja I had guys. We call ourselves th’ Twilight Scoundrels. ‘Sa cool name, right?”

You nod.

He tells you about them. He talks about them with a level of affection you couldn’t help but envy. He’s allowed to have friends, obviously, and you recognize some of their names having come up in conversation long before all this started. But this whole time, they got to be part of his life, and you got shoved to the side. He invited them to his stupid suicide mission, and not you.

Not that you would have said yes. You would have, in a heartbeat.

The night goes on, and he continues talking about everything he’s done, that he’s doing, that he plans to do. More hospitals, more museums, concert halls. Culture. It sounds amazing, when you don’t think too hard about where the money comes from. You used to not think about that sort of thing–hell, even when you knew, you didn’t care.

You weren’t that person anymore.

“Ah–I forgot t’ even ask!” He says, finally, breaking away from his self-aggrandizing reverie to focus his attention on you. “Didja ever settle on a name?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Well?” he leans in closer. “C’mon, don’ keep me in suspense!”

“Scout,” you say, shrugging. “Snooping Scout.”

He claps. “It’s great. I love it. I can do so much with that, I c’n call ya’ Snoopy, Snoop, Scoot, Scooter…”

“Aw jeez, Sol, don’ start with that.”

“It’s adorable, I will not be tamed, ‘n also,” his voice becomes very firm. “I ain’t Sol no more. It’s Scoff now.”

“Scoff,” you repeat.

“Anyway,” he says, shifting his tone and posture. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I got ulterior motives in bringin’ ya’ here. I made ya’ a promise, after all.”

He was making his pitch. That’s what all of this was. Laying out your coworkers, giving you the mission statement.

“Whaddya’ say?” He asked, smiling ear to ear. “Wanna be a Twililght Scoundrel?”

You smiled too, but it wasn’t the same as his. 

“Listen, Scoff–” He started to pick up on your tone the minute you started, and his expression wavered. “I jus’ wanted t’ see ya’ again. It’s a temptin’ offer, but I gotta turn it down.”

“Y’ sure?” He insisted, reading your face carefully. “I mean, this’s a dream offer. The guys’ll love ya’. Most’f ‘em, anyway.”

You shook your head.

“Nah. I got a good team now. I promised ‘em I’d stick to the straight ‘n narrow.”

He threw himself back in his booth seat, covering his face with one hand. “Straight? Y’ went straight? Tell me it ain’t so. What’d y’ do that for?!”

“For gettin’ caught too many times, that’s what for.” You drank again.

“Baby, darlin’.” He flung his hands in the air. “You ain’t never gettin’ caught again! Th’ police all answer t’ me now!”

You chuckled a little, and finished your drink. “Thanks. I mean, it sounds great, but it ain’t for me. I jus’ wanted t’ give ya’ my answer in person.”

He shifted in his seat, becoming more rigid, closed off. He folded his arms on the table, in front of him, and he stopped meeting your gaze.

“... Yeah. Sure. Fine,” he says. He motioned with one hand, and soon, the bouncer was back. “Take my guest back outside.”

And just like that, you were back on the street.

It wasn’t long before you saw him again. You and the boys had gotten a lead that the Scoundrels were planning a break-in. You caught them as they were splitting up to make their getaway. You and Deadeye took off after Scofflaw as Demo and Brawler followed Innovator and Delinquent. Scofflaw darted into a dark alley, and once the three of you were deep enough in, he stopped running and turned to face his pursuers. He had a grin on his face as he looked up at Detective.

And then he saw you.

He stared at you a moment, his smile slipping. His gaze returned to Detective, then you, then Detective again, then you.

Then he laughed.

It was a laugh you hadn’t heard in years. The same laugh you heard that first night, as he set that building ablaze. He held his arms out at his side, and with a quick tensing of his hands, purple flame erupted from his palms.

When you first met him, he was different–but the makings of Peccant Scofflaw were there from day one.

#mobsterswitch #problem sleuth #midnight crew #mspa #writing #fanfiction