#vi is punching the wall right now

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | check yes, juliet

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over halfway finished! i'll be posting poisoned mercury playlists soon! pls continue to send me songs that remind you of this series. i'm running out of songs to use as titles. thank u for all the love on this fic <3

series masterlist | previous | next

vi. check yes, juliet by we the kings

“where are we going?” 

“are you going to ask that every two seconds?” 

“you kidnapped me, castellan.” 

luke stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at you. you were about a quarter mile away from camp now, and it seemed like every ten steps, you asked him the same question. if he didn’t find you so cute, he would turn around and walk straight back to camp. 

“i will throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way there, five star,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes teasingly. he wasn’t opposed to the idea, but by the look on your face, you certainly were. “don’t test me.” 

“and i will scream bloody murder if you do,” you narrowed your eyes at him in a challenging manner. 

“here i am, trying to do something nice for you and you accuse me of kidnapping you,” luke continued his steps, slowing down to let you catch up to him. he didn’t realize how much shorter you were than him. the top of your head just went past his shoulders, but your personality made up for the difference. “we’re almost there, keep up.” 

“not everyone has long legs, castellan,” you huffed, increasing your pace. “slow down.” 

“do you want to get there or not?” he asked, throwing you a teasing smile over his shoulder. you guys really needed to get there soon. the sun was beginning to set and he didn’t want you to have to walk in the dark, even if he was with you. your safety came first, above everything, and he wasn’t gonna put you in a potentially dangerous situation. 

you whined, tugging on the side of his t-shirt, “how much longer?” 

“that’s it,” luke declared, squatting down to throw you over his shoulder. you squealed, hitting his back with your balled up fists. he knew you didn’t do it to hurt him. he can feel you pulling your punches. 

you felt the vibrations from his laughter on his back. luke was enjoying this too much. he carried you over his shoulder like it was nothing. perhaps all those morning workouts were paying off. you twisted your neck to scold him, thankful that he couldn’t see the smile on your lips, “put me down, i swear to god.” 

“nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ he tapped your calf with his fingers, “it’s just around the corner.” 

luke put you down in front of a building. there were five store fronts, three of which had faulty neon lights. you could barely make out the store names. the other two stores had signs up declaring vacancy. it was a little sketchy, but luke seemed to love it. he had his hands on his hips, staring up at the sign that seemed to say “achilles arcade.” 

“what is this place?” luke held the door open for you as you wandered inside the store. the place was dimly lit with old-school arcade games lining the walls. an old man was sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading the morning paper. 

“just wait,” luke grinned, pulling on your hand to lead you to get some tokens, “chiron! my man.” 

the man placed the newspaper on the surface, eyes lighting up at the sound of luke’s voice. he beamed, “luke castellan! i was afraid you weren’t gonna come back.” 

“you know i keep my promises,” luke let go of your hand, introducing you to chiron, “chiron, this is yn. she goes to camp with me.” 

“pleasure to meet you,” he tipped his head, reaching under the counter to dig out a bucket full of golden tokens. 

you took out your wallet, “how much do we owe you?” 

“on the house,” he waved off, “he donated a ridiculous sum of money to keep this place up and running. too generous, this one, so it wouldn’t be right for me to charge you when he’s keeping me in business.” 

luke shook his head, sliding a hundred across the counter anyway. he took your wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket, knowing that you’ll probably try to slip him some cash if he didn’t. you grumbled, but decided not to pick a fight. it didn’t seem like one you’d win. 

luke grabbed the bucket by the handle and turned to you, “where do you want to start, five star?” 

“you took me to an arcade?” 

“yeah,” luke said, sheepishly, “whenever i run out of cigs, i always go to an arcade to keep my mind off things. it’s childish, but it works. figured you could try it. plus, there’s a smoke shop across the street so we can go there when we’re done here.” 

“only one thing is better than the feeling of a new cherry ice vape,” you got close to him, nearly toe to toe. luke could smell the perfume on your skin, the scent of your shampoo, and his cologne that lingered on the hoodie of his that you wore. he reminded you that you always got cold and that you should bring a sweater, but you assured him that you wouldn’t. halfway to the arcade, you were shivering and luke knew that he made the right decision bringing his hoodie with him. 

you rolled your eyes, but accepted it. his hoodie stopped mid-thigh and engulfed you, but it looked better on you than it ever did on him. something about you wearing a hoodie that had his band name on it made his heart skip a beat. he had to listen to you make fun of him for tripping over air after he saw you in his clothes, but he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

he licked his lips, eyes darting to your own, “and what is that, five star?”

“beating your ass at galaga.” 

luke’s laughter echoed throughout the empty arcade as you ran from him with the tokens in your hand. you looked back at him with a mischievous smile on your face and he felt his heartstrings tug in his chest. you stuck your tongue out at him, starting the game as he stayed in his spot, admiring you. 

there weren’t many moments where he could be out in public like this, so when his mom reluctantly agreed to stop at this building on the way to camp due to a flat tire, luke and the boys were ecstatic to find that there was an empty arcade hidden in montauk. luke talked to chiron and learned his story while the boys played random games to kill the time. luke found out that the arcade wasn’t doing well financially with the increase in rent prices and that they would have to close down at the end of the summer if things don’t pick up again. chiron mentioned that he and his partner started this business twenty years ago, and he was sad to see it go. 

luke excused himself and snuck back into the tour bus to grab his checkbook. he wrote a check that covered rent and other expenses for the year and gave it to chiron. of course the man refused it, but luke wasn’t taking no for an answer, not after chiron shared that the arcade was the last living piece of his partner. luke castellan was a hopeless romantic, which not many people knew. he knew he was done for the minute he heard their love story. 

he stood there for a few moments, watching as you cheered, dodging the blasts of your enemies. you were so animated while you played, so expressive with your eyes and your voice. he’d only seen you like this a handful of times, talking to clarisse about god knows what, talking to the younger campers and asking them questions about their projects and interests, and when you asked him about his music. all of your monotoned replies and deadpan looks were all he got for the longest time, it seemed like your nonchalance was only for him, so it was nice to see you like this. it felt like you were warming up to him. 

he thought about the talk the two of you had in your room, how different you’d been then. after being iced out for weeks, luke was a little shocked at how soft you were with him earlier, playing with his rings, holding his hand, talking to him. it was a welcomed surprise, of course, but he expected you to kick him to the curb. he still didn’t understand what actually happened after the concert, but he figured you already had a tough day, so that conversation can wait. 

he made his way to you, leaning across the screen to slightly block your view, “you might be better than me at this game, but your ass is mine at guitar hero.” 

“not fair,” you were focused on the game, eyes glued on the screen in front of you. “you’re in a band. of course you’re gonna be better than me at that.” 

“life’s not fair, five star,” luke poked your side, making you squirm. you died in the game because of it. “my turn, yeah?” 

you shoved his chest, reluctantly moving over. “you cheated.” 

he looked over his shoulder, smirking, “how did i cheat?” 

“you distracted me!” 

“i did not!” he argued, chuckles escaping his lips. his tongue darted out the corner of his mouth. his concentration face was annoyingly attractive. 

“did too,” you mumbled, watching over his shoulder to see how he was doing. he was doing really well. damn teenage boys and their affinity for video games. your chin rested comfortably on his shoulder blade as you watched him play. 

luke’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly too aware that you were so close to him. he could feel your breath against the nape of his neck, your lips dangerously close to where his tattoo was. he snuck a glance at you, noting how you were too focused on his score inching closer to your own. 

“ha!” you yelled, pulling away from him. you bumped his hip with yours, moving him out of the way, “my turn.” 

“okay, you cheated.” 

you hit pause on the game, placing your hands on your waist, “how?” 

“you were distracting me! putting your head on my shoulder and shit.” 

“awww,” you cooed, playfulness in your tone, “do i make you nervous?” 

luke’s face flushed. he shook his head, tilting his head down to hide the color on his face. he rubbed the back of his neck, “play your fucking game.” 

you said something about him being a sore loser and cheered loudly when you beat his score. when you both ran out of lives, luke led you to guitar hero and as expected, kicked your ass at the game. the two of you played in the arcade until there was one golden token left in the bottom of the bucket. as you wandered around the room, your eyes landed on a black and white photobooth tucked away in the corner. 

“let’s take some pictures,” you grabbed his hand, leading him over there before he could say no. you shoved him inside the photobooth, tapping his knee to make him stop manspreading on the small bench. 

it could barely fit two people so it was a tight squeeze. you were sitting so close to luke, thighs pressed together as you tapped on the small screen to begin the process. luke could feel the warmth of your skin against his and he was glad that there was no colored photos option because his cheeks were bright red. maybe he can blame the lights making him feel hot if you brought it up, but he wasn’t sure if his voice even worked enough to utter out his excuse. 

“you better smile, castellan,” you threatened, turning to look at him before you inserted the token in the slot. “not that little side smirk shit that you do in all your pictures.” 

“what side smirk?” 

“that thing you do in your pictures!” you shouted, “in every single instagram post, you always do it.” 

luke raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile appearing on his lips, “you’ve stalked my instagram?” 

“not the point,” you ducked, pretending to mess with the settings of the photobooth. luke can see your shy smile on the screen in front of him. “i’m just saying, smile normally.” 

“that’s how i smile, five star! what do you want me to do?” 

“that is not how you smile!” you argued. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you faced him. he was already looking at you, soft eyes and a hint of a smile on his features. a stray curl was out of place on his head and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over to put it back in place. luke held his breath as your fingers grazed the side of his face, taking much longer than you needed to fix his hair. your thumb subconsciously rubbed against the scar on his cheek. luke let his eyes close at the feeling. 

“there,” you whispered, pulling your hand back to your side. “that’s how you smile.” 

he tried his best to keep that same expression on his face to see what you were talking about. he glanced at the screen and found himself stunned at what he found. you were right. this is not how he looked in his instagram pictures. he almost didn’t recognize himself as he stared. he looked different like this. 

there were no creases between his eyebrows or on his forehead, like there was no stress on his shoulders. his eyes looked brighter somehow as if he was at peace, exactly where he needed to be at that moment. his lips were quirked up in a tender smile, parts of his teeth showing between the gap of his top lip and bottom lip. did he always look like this when he was with you? awe-struck and enraptured by your presence? 

he should feel pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when you were looking at him like you enjoyed this clandestine look on his face, a look that he reserved only for you. he couldn’t feel pathetic when you were looking at him in the same way. a secret language between the two of you, that nobody else in the world could even begin to understand.

the countdown on the screen started and luke was pulled from his thoughts quickly when you pressed your cheek against his, grinning as the timer flashed across the screen. he let himself smile, teeth on full display before the flash went off. the second countdown began and luke watched you fumble around to pick the next pose. you settled on a silly pose, sticking your tongue out as you held up the ‘rock and roll’ sign with your hand. he followed your lead, letting a snicker leave his lips at how fitting the pose was. 

the final photo was uncoordinated. luke wasn’t ready for the flash to go off. you placed your hand on his shoulder, craning your neck to look up at him. if he leaned down an inch or two, his lips would touch yours. the realization had the wires in his brain crossed. when the machine took the picture, luke was staring lovingly into your eyes, a look of indecision on his face. his lips were curled into a bashful smile, the tip of his nose touching yours. 

“five star,” luke breathed out, his arm snaking around your waist. your leg was now placed on top of his own. 

you gulped, nudging his nose with yours, “luke…” 

he’d never heard his name leave your lips before other than when you were mocking the gossips you heard about him. he’d never heard your real voice call him by his name. now that he has, he was addicted to the sound of it. he never liked his name that much, but somehow, when you said it, it sounded like poetry. he never thought a single syllable could sound so beautiful, have his knees buckling at the utterance of it. but with you, he supposed there was always a first for everything. 

when the bright red words stating “your photos are ready!” illuminated the inside of the photobooth, the two of you jumped apart from each other, blushing wildly. luke took a moment for himself inside the photobooth, rubbing his face with his palms, as you walked out to retrieve the pictures. luke followed you after taking a few deep breaths. 

he saw you leaning against the wall, the two strips of pictures in your hand. you had a goofy grin on your face, admiring them. luke sauntered next to you, taking a look at the photos. 

he accepted the strip of photos you handed him, “we probably should’ve discussed our poses beforehand.” 

“i dunno,” you were still staring at the pictures, biting your bottom lip. “i like ‘em.”

luke hummed, taking out his wallet. he folded the strip in threes, slotting the last photo in the clear compartment of his wallet. it looked perfect against the black leather, like it was the last thing needed to make his wallet look complete. he slipped it back in his back pocket, taking yours out to return to you. 

“smoke shop?” he asked. 

“please,” you nodded, beginning to walk out of the arcade. you waved goodbye to chiron who moved onto doing the daily crossword. “bye chiron! great to meet you!” 

he bid the two of you goodbye, a knowing gaze on his face. you were already out the door when he sent luke a wink that had him shaking his head, face turning red at the man’s antics. luke shut the door behind him, ushering you over to the sidewalk towards the smoke shop, “i’m out of cigs too, so this is actually perfect timing.” 

you waited outside the smoke shop, sitting on the curb. luke had a fake id (for research purposes, of course. he was just curious to see what the kentucky ids looked like.) so he bought your vape and his cigarettes. when he emerged, he joined you on the curb, pulling out his phone to call an uber back to camp. 

the sun was long gone and he could hear the owls hooting in the distance. it was not a good idea to walk back to camp, even if it wasn’t even a mile away. he watched you unwrap your vape, taking a small hit from it. he lit his cigarette with the lighter he carried with him and smoked with you in silence. 

“uber is gonna take twenty minutes,” he said, placing his phone between the two of you, face up. “i’m guessing there’s not many people around here.” 

you glanced at his phone, giggling at his lockscreen. it was a picture of the entire band, wearing matching novelty sunglasses taken at a .5 angle. they looked ridiculously like the guys you’ve grown to adore. “i like your lockscreen.” 

luke tapped his phone to wake it up. he let out a laugh, “mom took it when we played vegas for the first time. we were too young to go out and we were too afraid to use our fakes so we went to m&m world and got wired on sugar.” 

“you guys are really close, huh?” 

“got to be,” luke shrugged, “we’re together 24/7, but even before that… these guys are my brothers. love ‘em, even when they’re a pain in my ass. what’s your lockscreen?” 

you pulled out your phone, showing him the picture of you, clarisse, and silena flipping off the camera. it was taken during one of your (failed) attempts at studying at the library. you were all in sweatpants and large hoodies with the stress of midterms evident on your faces. “that’s silena, my other best friend from unc. her boyfriend, charlie, took this picture because he said we looked absolutely miserable. and we do, but it makes me happy looking back at it. we were struggling together and we somehow made it out together.” 

“i do not miss school at all,” luke blew out the smoke in his mouth, “i was a shit student.” 

“but now look at you,” you teased, “mr. rockstar.” 

“yeah, yeah,” luke copied your voice, “can’t complain.” 

you hummed, tucking your vape in the pocket of luke’s hoodie, “you can, especially with me. i’m the number one hater, so i enjoy complaining quite a bit.” 

“oh, i know.” 

you smacked his arm, rolling your eyes as he stumbled in his seat, laughing. you cleared your throat, voice turning serious, “seriously. i owe you for today, so complain to me all you want.” 

“you don’t owe me shit, five star,” luke put out his cigarette, standing up as his phone alerted him that the uber was coming soon. he held out his hand to help you up. “but i will take you up on that offer. of course, i can only do that if you don’t ignore me for weeks again.” 

you slapped his hand away, shaking your head, smiling, “shut the fuck up.” 

luke flagged down the uber, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you into the backseat. you entered, making polite conversations with the lady in the driver’s seat. 

“for chase?” 

luke nodded, “yup, thanks so much.” 

as the car drove off in the direction of camp, you turned to luke, mouthing, “chase?” 

he took out his wallet and handed you his fake id: chase reed, brown eyes, brown hair, 5’11. 

luke safely tucked the id back in its slot when you tossed it back at him, giggling at his alter-ego. he didn’t say anything when you moved closer to him, sitting in the middle seat, and held his hand the rest of the way back to camp.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series

[kiwisbell]

helen ; chapter two

lure the wolf

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the lie.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship (and blasphemy), joel miller has a Reputation, flashbacks, blood + injuries, medical attention, mentions of rape/SA, cars, tommy is the rational brother, joel is an idiot, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, Big Fight, unresolved angst, joel gets shoved a couple times, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, i'm deeply sorry overall for what i'm putting you through, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 7.1k a/n: i am... sorry. just know that i love you, okay? again, i extend a huge thank-you to @cavillscurls for being my incredible beta and listening to my constant moaning. ilysm honey. also, thank you hugely to moms @tieronecrush & @northernbluess for helping me with *that scene* prev | next

Is this seat taken?

Of all the people crowding the restaurant, Joel noticed you first.

Candlelight drowned the world in burnt orange, and he could very well have been walking into the cathedral he grew up in. A piano player expertly brushed his fingertips across the keys, coaxing Moonlight Sonata’s soft lullaby from the strings. It was fucking warm, his vest tight around his torso, weighed down by the Beretta hidden in the lining. Sweat began to bead at his hairline as he slid easily between tables where guests took their seats, relishing the idle hum of chatter while they lay napkins over their laps and paid attention to proper cutlery etiquette. Some people, he’d noticed, enjoyed having riches to spend. 

Joel found a corner, next to one of only two empty tables in the entire restaurant. His eyes did not leave you the entire journey into the quiet darkness.

You, who stood straight-backed and elegant on the small stage, conversing pleasantly with three men in servers’ uniforms. You, whose eyes gleamed when you smiled, in standing defiance of the dim light.

Paintings, Joel realised, were hanging from the wall behind the stage. Dynamic brushstrokes of muted colours depicted naked bodies and desperate embraces. Blushingly erotic for a public event, Joel thought. Still, he stared, his head tilting to the side as he examined the angles of the bodies, the taut muscles, soft skin, hungry hands. 

Joel spent too much time watching the dip of your throat and the curve of your collarbones as your turn to speak came and you gesticulated idly, humbly. He was here for a job. He was not here to look at paintings and a pretty girl.

And yet he watched, utterly still. The men you spoke to would compliment you, and you would place a hand to your heart or shoo their words away. A simple, fine golden chain hung around your neck. Joel should have been spending these minutes reaffirming his plan, ensuring his target was still in position. He should have confirmed his suspected exit routes. He should have done his fucking job.

But the smile had struck him, stronger than any punch he’d taken. Your smile crinkled the corners of your eyes.

You simply shone.

You gracefully slid away from the men’s attention and took a seat on the chair that had been placed on the right side of the stage. You were here to complete a live commission for the grand opening, he realised. And Joel, the utter idiot he was, sunk slowly, trancelike, into a seat at the empty table in the corner.

Joel listened to music. Occasionally. When he was in a bright enough mood to let the radio stay on in his car, he kept it tuned to an old country channel. Now, he thought he could see music in the way you painted, your collarbones the careful glide of a bow across the strings of a violin, an achingly sweet song that smothered the noise in his head.

You treated your palette and your brush with astonishing tenderness. Your strokes were deft and drifted expertly across your workspace. Your eyes flickered between the crowd and the canvas, and Joel became your reverent audience.

He had no idea how long he sat there, watching. Every rise and fall of your arm held him to his seat like there were ropes around his ankles. When the emcee stepped onto the stage and brought a microphone to his mouth, Joel watched you lift slowly from your trance. You blinked twice, took a deep breath that shifted the necklace on your throat, and loosed it like a sigh. Then a speech began, and Joel remembered that you were not the only person in the world.

Joel had made a point of studying his targets: not only the man, but the place. The guests. The owner. The blueprints and the staff. He knew them explicitly. He was thorough, and he had contingency plans that surpassed the number of fingers he possessed.

So, of course, he knew your name. He knew that you had been painting since you were a child. He knew that you donated all of the proceeds from your gallery sales to various charities. He knew that your income came from commissions.

But he had never seen your face in person until now. Joel had enough of a brain to acknowledge beauty, though attraction was something different altogether, a beast he had never quite wrangled. He could not have possibly predicted the twisting in his chest or the aggressive twitch in his fingers when you shifted off the stage. He wanted to follow. He wanted you to stay where he could see you, where he knew you would be safe, while he conducted business.

Safe, though, was relative. It meant little. Joel took a moment to gather himself, straightened the dinner fork at his place setting as though he was expecting to dine at all, and waited for his target to show his face.

The last thing he needed was unexpected company. Then, a gentle shadow that smelled of summer rain and daisies eclipsed him, and Joel looked up.

Is this seat taken? 

Joel promised himself a number of things.

The problem was that he couldn’t keep a single one.

He had very few contacts in his real phone. Tommy, Cabrera, Maria, Bill. He contacted these people infrequently, some more so than others. He was not fond of texting, and he kept his phone calls short. Now that your name added a noticeable weight to the phone in his pocket, Joel had never been more tempted to stare at his screen all day and night, waiting for a message.

So, the first promise: keep his phone at home while on a job. It wasn’t particularly necessary either way, bringing it along, since he had burners at his safe houses. He left it on his nightstand once before a mission. When he came home, covered in other people’s blood and sometimes his own, he picked up the phone only to find that your latest message had come through an hour previous.

‘I’ve decided. You ever make escargots?’

The night before, you were waiting on a client and Joel was cooking dinner. He put you on speakerphone so he could stir. 

“Where’d you learn to cook?”

“Taught myself, really.” He’d frowned, then. “Grew up in an orphanage. They decided what we ate.”

You could have pitied him: That must have been awful. What happened to your parents? I’m so sorry, Joel. No wonder you’re terribly adjusted.

“Where did you go after?” you’d asked him instead.

“Here,” he had told you. “New York. Good place to learn how to cook if you’ve got no money to spend.”

“Smart man. Is that steak I smell?”

He’d laughed. “Close, but no. Risotto.”

“Shit, I’m hungry,” you’d groaned. “I could eat seven steaks. I haven’t eaten all fucking day; my client is late for this meeting and I came straight from the gallery. C’mon, describe it to me more.”

“I’ll make you dinner.”

It had slipped out, a little wobbly, a deer taking its first steps. But Joel had persisted, white-knuckling a wooden spoon and glaring hard at his cell phone. “Anything you’d like. Name it.”

Staring at the text message, smearing the screen with blood, Joel laughed. Alone. To himself. In his quiet, dark home.

‘You want me to make you snails for dinner?’

He had expected to send the message and put his phone face-down with enough time to shower, to cleanse himself of blood. He’d left you waiting so long, after all. But your name appeared, blown-up, on his screen. You were calling.

“Not the whole meal,” you said. You always spoke first, knowing Joel didn’t care for the hellos and goodbyes of phone-call etiquette. “Escargots is an appetiser, Joel.”

Joel smiled, which revealed some sort of painful contusion on his face he hadn’t known about. As he palmed the tender skin around his jaw, he said, “I can do that. And what about dinner?”

“Well, that, you’ll just have to get back to me on,” you said. “Gives me another excuse to talk to you.”

With that, Joel had officially forgone the promise. He wanted to carry your name with him.

He made a second promise, to set boundaries: he would only allow himself to call you once a week.

But you, who knew people better than most, who sat with them for hours as you painted their very souls into colour and light, caught on. 

“You call me at exactly eight o’clock every Monday night. You could at least vary it by an hour so I wouldn’t notice.”

Joel hung his head. “Shit,” he grumbled. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Joel, I’m going to say something. I want you to listen to me.” 

And he, who obeyed your every command, whose marrow sang the song he’d heard that first night at the restaurant, straightened. “Yeah. I’m listenin’.”

“I just got home from a four-hour showing, and I’m achey, and a little drunk, but if I call you, it’s because I want to call you. If I talk to you, it’s because I want to. Because you’re the best part of my day. So if you want to call me, too, just fucking call me. End my misery, okay?”

He wondered how it would taste to slip his tongue past your parted lips, to feel the burn of your celebratory champagne, the crack of your whip-smart resolve as you moaned softly against him. He thought he might like to make you moan.

You wanted to speak with him. You awaited his calls. You liked him. 

As a child, Joel had known God’s wrath as intimately as he had known His love. They were the two sure things in the world, according to the Sisters. They made him memorise Genesis. Joel knew love and evil existed in this world. They had never taught him the in-between, the mundane, the nuances of like. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I can do that.”

So, one call a week lasted less than a week, and it wasn’t a fortnight after you first met that you and Joel were speaking every single day. Your voice was in his head, your laugh in his blood. Like dissolved. He began to need.

He knew your routines, your habits. He knew how you took your coffee (milk and two sugars, sweet to his bitter black). He knew you hated pork. He knew which paints you used most, and which palette knives were best for different details. He knew you hated painting trees, but you loved rivers. 

In his free time, he would visit bookshops. You loved Wilde and Machen. It only made sense—your paintings were decadent, larger-than-life, sinful. Joel enjoyed philosophy. He liked Coleridge, Keats. 

“They would’ve hated one another,” you said one day over breakfast. 

“You think? They were pretty fond of all those flowery words.”

“Poetry and philosophy are opposites,” you offered. 

“Maybe,” he said, “but maybe not. I think they needed each other.”

You smiled over the rim of your coffee cup. “Maybe you’re right.”

A month after he’d met you, he’d rebound a copy of The Importance of Being Earnest. A month after that, he’d worked up the courage to give it to you. 

“Oh my God, Joel…”

“It’s yours,” he said. “I know it’s one of your favourites. It’s stupid, I know, just…”

You beamed at him. “Just… what?”

“Just saw it, and thought of you.”

A dozen other projects were sitting at his makeshift station. Pieces of you already lived in his space. 

In these moments, Joel thought, This is what I missed. There was light in you, a light that had been beaten out of him. Some nights, the dark called, and there you were, the fluttering of strings on the Eolian Harp, and he knew he was obsessed before he drove you home that long first night.

Often, the moment lasted only for the little time you could spare: a brief text, a two-minute phone call. When he limped up the stairs to his home and collapsed in the closest chair, usually bloodied or bruised or both, your name was always waiting for him.

One night, two words: ‘Call me?’

He did.

Joel had just come home from a job in Queens. The gangsters hadn’t put up much of a fight themselves, but one of them did know how to drive a car, and he’d taken a hard sideswipe to his whole body, knocking out the headlights with his ribs. He felt, appropriately, like he’d been pulled apart, his bones stretched, muscles hot and sore.

He had made his promise about weekly calls three months ago. Joel figured he must have been out of his mind then, thinking he could go that long without you. He simply could not.

“Missed you.”

Your laugh, delighted and quiet, melted some of his bones until they gently began to slide back in place. “I missed you,” you said. He quickly assessed that you were home, judging from the buzz of silence on the other end of the line. “Tough day?”

His brother Tommy was a mechanic. So, Joel had told you he worked the books. Gave him a decent excuse to be there as often as he was. Didn’t give him an excuse for anything else.

“Tired,” he said easily, “but glad to hear your voice.”

“You sound like you’ve been hit in the ribs,” you said. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did Tommy rough you up?”

Joel wasn’t familiar with lying. He’d never had many reasons to. Violence convinced people a lot easier. The biggest lies he’d ever told had been the nightly sermons, the recitations of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Amazing fucking Grace. He didn’t like the way lying to you sat low and heavy in his chest.

“I’m all right. Just gettin’ old. Took the stairs too fast.” 

“Joel.”

He didn’t like the edge to your voice. He was causing you this anguish. Fuck, he hated that thought. He hated that he had no choice but to lie. “Sweetheart, I’m okay.”

Your sigh was soft, resigned. “You promise me?”

“On my life.”

“That’s what I’d like to avoid,” you said with a laugh. “Are you back in New York?”

Joel looked down at the hand on his thigh, flexed his split knuckles. “I’m back.”

“Well, I just got back from a gallery showing,” you said. “And I want to see you.”

Joel listened to his stilted breathing punch out of his lungs in the quiet darkness, clenching his bloodied fists. In his dreams, his head was bowed as if in prayer, but his arms were wound tight around your body. The warm press of your fingers into his skin felt like the lick of a flame. In his dreams, you sighed his name and you called him yours. In his dreams—maybe his one and only dream—he kept you safe more than he put you in danger.

That was where the hopeless dream slipped like smoke through the slits in his eyes. You would always be in danger as long as he was involved in this life.

“I want to see you, too,” said Joel.

Tommy’s day gets infinitely worse the second his brother walks through the door.

“Everyone out,” he snaps, and his guys flee from the garage, letting the door fall with a clang of metal to the concrete. You jump, falling out of step with your husband and hugging your arms to your chest. Tommy narrows his eyes. “What can I do for you both? I was just about to close.”

You open your mouth, but Joel’s already working. “I need a ride.”

“That so?” Tommy cleans the oil from his hands using a once-white rag, now a slick brown, smearing it across his forehead when he wipes the sweat away. “Don’t suppose it has anything to do with the kid who drove in here with your car two hours ago?”

You lower yourself onto the hood of a nearby Porsche 911, dropping the overnight bag from your shoulder and letting it slump on the ground. Tommy watches as you study the ring on your left hand, twirling the bands around your finger. 

“Shit,” says Joel, scratching his beard. “And what’d you say to him?”

“I didn’t say nothin’, Joel. I took one look at your car and decked the asshole. He wanted a tune job. Clearly didn’t know whose car he stole.” Tommy tosses the rag onto a table, next to a decanter of bourbon. “What the fuck are you thinking, pissin’ off Cabrera’s kid?”

Joel meets his brother’s eyes, a lethal glint in their brown that Tommy’s never known to mean anything good. “That,” he says darkly, “was Emiliano Cabrera?”

“Yeah, I’m sure his old man ain’t proud to share their name, either,” huffs Tommy. “I’m gonna ask again, Joel: what the fuck did you do?”

“I didn’t do a goddamn thing he didn’t deserve,” says Joel, “and I need a ride.” 

Tommy’s fingers curl in at his sides. Sometimes, it’s hard not to punch his brother in the jaw. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Just know it’s a loan. So don’t fuckin’ scratch my property, Joel, or so help me—”

You stand from the hood of the car and pin Tommy with your gaze, a bit distant, a bit icy. “I need to use your bathroom, Tommy. If that’s okay.”

He feels himself soften a bit at the sight of your trembling hands. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘Course.”

“I’ll show you,” says Joel, reaching for your arm. 

You watch the floor and brush past him. “I can find it.”

Joel’s fingers twitch as you go without another word, his eyes shuttering, and Tommy notices that his knuckles are bloodied. 

“Wanna tell me what happened?” he asks once they’re alone.

Joel sits where you did moments ago, reaching for the decanter next to him. He doesn’t pour or drink; he merely angles the glass and watches the fluorescent lights filter through it. “He broke in. I killed his buddies, but he got away.”

Tommy lowers himself onto the edge of the table. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Joel.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s cut.” Tommy turns his head to the doorway where you disappeared. “They do anything else?”

“They would’ve.” Joel slams the decanter back down on the table, and the echo reverberates in the walls. “He tried—”

He does not finish the sentence, but he does not need to. 

Tommy rubs his jaw. “You gotta tell her, man.”

“She’s in shock. She went through a lot.” Joel’s eyes drop to the floor, to the bag brimming with your clothes, and his jaw works. “I… can’t tell her. Not right now.”

Tommy is struck, sometimes, by how transparent his brother can be. He’s killed countless men and bled gold like some invulnerable god, and still, he knows nothing about himself. “Fuck, Joel.”

“I have to finish this.” Joel’s voice is the bottom of an empty well. “I need to find him.”

“Don’t,” says Tommy. “Don’t fucking finish it. Take your losses and go back home. You know better than anybody where this goes, and all you’re doing is putting her in more danger.”

Joel shakes his head. “Tommy, if you think I don’t know—”

“No, I don’t think you know. You want to lose the one thing you worked for all those years ago, fine. But don’t expect her to understand.”

His brother’s head snaps up. “And if you told Maria?” he counters. “Would she have given you a kid if she knew everything you’ve done?”

Tommy’s chest stirs up acid. “You’re treadin’ on thin ice, brother.”

“You’re the one who should be careful.” Joel stands abruptly and winces; he’s wounded under that jacket, Tommy realises. Hiding wounds once again. “You punched Manuel Cabrera’s son in the face.”

Tommy sniffs. “Kid’s got a punchable face.”

Joel is silent for a moment. “Yeah, he does.”

You appear around the corner, giving Joel and his crimson-stained shirt a once-over. “Where are we going?” you ask him.

The way Joel jolts up out of his seat on the Porsche’s hood tells Tommy that it’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the incident. “A hotel,” he says, approaching as slowly as one might a spooked deer. You do not move, but you do not take his outstretched hand, your fingers curled taut around your arms. Joel frowns at his split knuckles. “It’ll be safe there.”

“Okay.” You’re staring hard at a spot on his chest, your voice hollow as if heard from the dark end of a tunnel. “Tommy, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” you add.

“Ain’t no trouble, sweetheart. You just… hang in there, hear me?”

“Yeah.” A wobble courses through your bottom lip and Tommy wants to hunt those fuckers down himself. “I’d be happy to paint your nursery sometime, if you’ll still have me.”

“Christ knows I’d be useless at it compared to you.” Tommy roots around in a drawer for a fob and unlocks the doors to the black Porsche. “Let’s get you both out of here.”

Joel claps him on the back. “Thank you, brother.”

Tommy tosses the fob to Joel. You’re already slipping inside the car with your bag tight to your chest. “Don’t get used to it,” he says. “And Joel? For Christ’s sake, think hard before you dive headfirst back into this shitshow.”

Joel squeezes his arm and slides into the driver’s seat, and Tommy watches his brother go.

He doesn’t remember much of the church, the way Joel remembers. He doesn’t remember the prayers or the beatings the way he knows Joel does. Tommy got off with a slap on the wrist, as far as things go; sometimes, he looks into his brother’s eyes and he still sees the fourteen-year-old kid, sharing a dark room lit only by candles and the picture of the praying hands, devising a plan to escape. We’ll get out together, brother. You and me.

He saw that look again tonight. He saw the flare surging up in Joel’s eyes, an incendiary promise. 

Tommy doesn’t call his guys back in. Instead, he stalks into his office and makes a call.

The line stops ringing after three trills, and Tommy doesn’t wait for a hello.

“Your son is fucking dead, Cabrera.”

“First, you strike my boy.” A lion’s growl, stirring deep in the chest; he’s probably smoking. “Now, you threaten me, pendejo?” 

“You heard me. You fucking heard me.” Tommy licks his teeth. “Do you know what you’ve just started, letting him run around this city like he owns it?”

“I’m the one who owns this city, Mr. Miller,” says Cabrera. “Now, I’d like to know why you punched Emil in the face.”

“Because, sir, he broke into Joel Miller’s house, stole his car, and tried to rape his wife.”

The silence stretches thin, and Tommy can hear thoughtful puffs of smoke burst from Cabrera’s parted lips.

“Oh,” he says at last.

Everyone is staring at him.

The lobby of the Continental Hotel, a flatiron at 1 Wall Street, is understated in its extravagance. The floors are a marble that crackles with the weight of every footfall. There are crystal chandeliers and a too-high ceiling and stained-glass windows depicting the fall of Icarus, Narcissus at the water’s edge, Arachne and Athena. Hubris surrounds you in all colours and shades. And those few milling about the lobby turn their heads to watch your husband approach the front desk. 

Despite yourself, you tuck in a little closer. Joel is carrying your duffle; he didn’t bring a change of clothes.

The concierge, whose nameplate reads Charon, lifts his brows. “Mr. Miller,” he says politely. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Joel nods. “We’d like a room.”

The concierge only eyes you briefly, but it’s enough that you feel adequately scrutinised. “Of course, sir. Single suite?”

“Double,” you cut in. You feel Joel’s eyes on the side of your head, but you persist with as sweet a smile as you can muster. The concierge nods. 

“Of course,” he says. “I presume, Mr. Miller, that you are utilising your… guest privileges?”

Joel stiffens next to you. “I’ll tell the Manager myself. Nobody else needs to know.”

“Of course, sir.” Charon hands him the key. Joel reaches into his pocket and places a golden coin on the desk. You feel your brows pull together. It isn’t a currency you’ve ever seen. EX UNITATE VIRES, reads the ridged inscription, surrounded by leaves. 

“Is the Doctor in?”

“Twenty-four hours a day, sir.”

“Send him up,” says Joel, stuffing the key in his pocket and fitting his hand on the small of your back. 

The concierge’s voice grates down your spine, like feeling the rough underbelly of a shark. “It is a pleasure having you with us again, Mr. Miller.”

You walk just fast enough to escape the weight of his hand on your back. He’s still covered in blood. 

“Again, huh?” you say quietly, your chest sluicing down the middle. “How often do you come here?”

“I don’t,” he says. “Not anymore.”

“You know, hotels are where husbands take their other women.”

Joel looks at you sharply. “That’s not funny.”

And you know it isn’t true—you know he isn’t like that—but you’ve been lied to nonetheless. The knife twists anyway.

“Right,” you say, and leave it at that. 

There is a man waiting outside your hotel room. He’s squat, old, and seems to have taken on a slight hunch, but he smiles warmly at you. “Pleasure,” he says plainly. “Let’s get started.”

“Her first,” says Joel, turning the key in the lock. 

“You sure?” The Doctor eyes him warily. “You’re the one who’s bleeding.”

Joel glowers. “Her first.”

The Doctor just shrugs, taking a laborious seat at the little round table by the window. It’s nearly midnight now, the moonlight filtering in through the closed curtains. Joel flicks on the light, and you blink, taking in the spacious room.

“Jesus,” you utter, mouth agape. There are two queen beds covered in crisp white linens, a bar cart, a kitchenette, an enormous claw-footed tub out in the open, and a bathroom housing a floor-to-ceiling glass shower and a vanity with two sinks. It’s big enough to host a decent gathering, let alone two people. “How much did this cost us, Joel?”

“I’ll explain later,” he says. “Let Doc check you out.”

Numbly, you sit opposite the Doctor, who dons a pair of glasses and gloves and unlatches a small medical kit. “The cut’s superficial,” he says automatically, brushing his thumb over the tender skin just beneath the knife slash. “It’s already scabbed over.”

“She hit her head,” says Joel tersely. You can tell he’s pacing behind you, his fingers on his mouth.

You sigh. “I feel okay,” you tell the Doctor. “Really, I do.”

But he inspects you anyway, shining a light in your eyes and forcing you to follow his finger and asking you mundane questions like What’s four times seven? and Who’s the president? He hands you a clean bill of health, no concussion, and you switch places with a surly-looking Joel. 

He’s shed his jacket and laid it on the bed closest to you, so you dig around his pocket and produce another gold coin. Joel lifts his shirt to reveal the gash in his belly from the broken glass. And the Doctor clicks his tongue in reproach but says nothing, dabbing a disinfectant onto the wound and chuckling a little at the way Joel hisses through his teeth. 

“Out of practice,” mutters the Doctor. It only makes the knot in your throat pull tighter.

“Is he going to be okay?” you ask. Joel studies you carefully, as if he isn’t quite sure how to understand your question.

“He’ll be fine,” says the Doctor, “if he keeps all movement to a minimum.”

Flipping the coin between your fingers, you can admire the intricate beauty of it. The gold is not tarnished by touch or time; it seems new. Or just unused, if Joel’s been keeping it stored out of sight. The ridges are meticulous, impervious to debasing, and you suspect that’s deliberate. Everything these people do seems deliberate. 

Who are these people?

Joel seems to know. He seems to know everything. And he’s kept it all from you. 

The Doctor leaves with an extra two coins in his pocket, and you’re sure to thank him as you see him out. The door closed and locked behind you, the air suddenly stifles, and the current grows warm. 

You pull at the collar of your shirt and abruptly stop yourself from pulling it over your head. You’re sticky and sweaty and probably covered in someone else’s blood beneath all the fabric clinging to your body. You need a shower. And yet, undressing in front of him—the oldest, most familiar act between the two of you—is the most daunting thing you have ever done.

Joel’s cell phone begins to ring, and you’re spared for the moment. 

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him, though he’s already speaking quietly into the phone. You step into the scalding shower, a lump in your throat, and scrub at your skin so hard that it’s raw and abused. 

The first time you went on a date with Joel Miller, you had to ask him. He would clam up and go quiet when you teased him a little too far, his cheeks taking on a pink hue. He showed up in a stunning black suit and brought you a single daisy. 

By the time you’d known him a year, you had four bouquets. 

The hot water borders on agonising. You stand, back straight, facing the flow, letting it fill your tear ducts and your mouth and your nose. You let it drown you, slipping into the deafening quiet that you so easily find as you paint. 

Sometimes, he’d sit behind you while you worked, those rare moments you weren’t using him as a model, and he’d watch. There was something voyeuristic in the way he could spy on your work for hours as you painted bodies in their many stages of pleasure. 

You watched him kill two men tonight. He’d brought your attacker’s knife to his own throat and spilled his blood like a pig for slaughter. You always thought you knew bodies—but your Joel, your husband, knows them better than you ever thought possible.

You stand in the shower, watching the tiled wall, for longer than you should. But when you dry yourself off and dress, Joel is sitting silently on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. It strikes you suddenly that this is the man you’ve painted a thousand times—often in this very position, when he gets lost in thought—and for a moment, you don’t recognise him. 

He’s more severe than before. The lines of his face are jagged, tensed as though in preparation for a blow. You would paint him in shades of red and orange. You would be ruthless in your brushstrokes, and everyone would know the artist had put a sliver of her own fury into him.

He looks up and meets your eyes, and you fold your arms over your chest.

“So,” you begin, “you’re like Bond? Like, a spy?”

Joel stands, crossing the room to meet you. “I don't try to hide,” he says. “Though he didn't really try, either.”

“So, there's people who know your name.”

The pull at the corner of his mouth does not win out. “Yeah. A few.”

You make a sound even you cannot decipher, and Joel’s hands fidget at his sides. The silence descends again. 

You look up at him and swallow knives. “Who are you?”

He grits his teeth. “You know the answer to that,” he says imploringly, desperately, reaching to take your hand. You step backward and watch his face crumble. “I’m your husband, baby. You know that.”

White-hot pressure prickles behind your nose. “This is the least you owe me, Joel. Who are you?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs. “I…” 

A hand, ghosting across his jaw, as if to conjure the words from his throat. His eyes flicker frantically between each of yours. 

“You might call it a gun-for-hire,” he tells you. “I was contracted under a man named Manuel Cabrera. This hotel is for others like… like me. People who operate in the Underworld.”

The revelation should not surprise you, but the earth beneath your bare feet fractures in one seismic shift. You think of the daisies. The suits. The gifts and the walks along beaches in Spain and the soft whisper of the breeze against your cheek. You think of sleeping next to him every night, his arm wrapped around your waist because it was the only way he would sleep. 

You think of the little he told you about his time in the Marines. The tattoo on his back that reads, FORTIS FORTUNA ADIUVAT. Fortune favours the bold. 

You think of a gun hidden in his bedside drawer. You think of a tough childhood he’s only alluded to: an orphanage, a church, the sisters. A cigarette burn behind his ear. 

“When did this all start?” Your voice is a feeble thing, afraid of its own shadow. Afraid of what that darkness will breed. “How long have you been… doing this?”

“As long as I can remember.” It’s the reply you want and not at all. Joel is looking down, and you realise he’s staring at your wedding ring. “I got out.”

“When?”

“After I met you.”

When he first kissed you, it was barely a brush of your lips, and then he was taken away. He’d frowned like it was a mistake, and when you stood on your toes to kiss him back, the gash between his brows smoothed over, and his hands cradled your face. 

Don’t regret it, you pleaded.

He pressed his mouth to your temple. You are the only choice I don’t regret.

You hate how the memories crowd you now, stifling what’s logical, what’s real. You hate the phantom sensation of his lips on your skin, the bristling of his moustache. You hate the way he holds back from touching you as if it’s something poisonous. You hate his wide-open eyes. As he stands before you now, you would paint him in shades of black. 

The pain in your chest yawns open into a cavity. You want to tear out the viscera and stuff it inside.

You gave your heart to him, and he poured oil-slick lies into the clean organ like it was nothing. Like it was all so easy for him. 

“You lied to me.”

He swallows. Nods his head. “I know.”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “Fuck you. You have no idea. Two hours ago, I didn’t think you knew how to throw a punch. You killed those men back there, Joel. And everyone in this building knows your name. You don't know.”

And the venom tastes sweet. It tastes powerful and strong and enough to rot what remains inside. 

“Was I even real?” you ask. “Was I just a cover story?”

“Don’t,” Joel snaps. “I did everything for you. You don't understand… you couldn’t understand the things I had to do to get out. To be with you. To settle down, give you the life you deserved.”

“Maybe I would understand if you'd told me!” You’re raising your voice, prickling pain behind your eyes, chest sour with an ache you don’t know. “You never even tried. You never even thought to tell me the truth? Your own wife?”

“Civilians can't know about the Underworld,” says Joel, and he looks as though he wants to say more, but you’re shoving him square in the chest—he doesn’t budge; of course he doesn’t fucking budge—and getting louder still.

“Don't patronise me,” you say, burning with vitriol, giving him another hard push. “I gave my life to you, and I’m just a civilian?”

Now he’s getting louder, grasping your arms and pleading with his eyes to make you listen. “I wanted to protect you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I wanted to give you a good life away from all that shit I’ve bled for, killed for. I needed to keep you safe, baby.”

Baby. You’ve always been his—his baby, honey, sweetheart, endlessly closing her eyes to a truth she was too blind, or maybe too unwilling, to see. And although you may resent him for keeping it all from you, you resent yourself, too, for never even guessing that something was wrong.

You feel so goddamn stupid. 

“Nine fucking years.” You shove him again only to see him falter slightly on his feet, to see the helpless glimmer of tears that shine, unshed, in his eyes. You hate him for crying, you hate him for being so strong, you hate him for all the touches he’s made you question. “You have lied to me for nine fucking years, you bastard.”

“That ain’t fair—”

“No, shut up! Shut the fuck up and let me talk. You kissed me and fucked me and gave me flowers and gifts and you’ve built it all on one big lie. And you expect me to forgive you because you were trying to protect me? I married you, Joel Miller. I loved you. We made vows to trust one another, to be truthful. Did that mean anything?”

Joel’s lips crack apart like water seeping through stone. “‘Loved’?”

“You’re selfish, Joel,” you spit, your throat raw, the pressure building hot behind your eyes. “You didn't tell me the truth because you didn't want me to run.”

“Would you?” he asks. A sluice has driven hard through the resolve in his face. “Would you have run?”

The fight bleeds out of you, the excess drawn from the skin. “You never gave me that choice, so don't you dare give it to me now.”

Maybe you would run, if given the chance. Maybe you would flee far away from the dangerous man you now know he is. But you wear his rings. You’ve taken him inside you countless times. You’ve given him your soul. There is no maybe. 

“You don't get it,” he croaks. “Don't you understand the things I’d do to keep you safe? Don't you understand that I’d kill for you?”

The sob bleeds from your lips. “What if I don't want that?”

Joel shakes his head. “I said no tears,” he says. “No tears, baby, please.”

No tears, he would always say. No tears for me until I’ve earned ‘em.

But it's like weights have been tied to your wrists, and you cannot lift your hands to wipe them away. Why should you have to? Why should you care to listen to him at all?

“No tears?” you shout. “You’ve lied to me all this time and you don’t want me to cry? You want me to just let it go? Fuck you, Joel Miller, and fuck you for giving me your last name, for letting me love you all this time when you knew you were lying to my face.”

Joel steps back like you’ve struck him in the face. The words are dry, blowing slightly on the air, and you must moisten them on your tongue to dissolve the numbness, water saturating a teaspoon of sugar. He does not say a word.

“What are you going to do?” you ask him. The sound of your own voice is foreign to you. 

He stands silent before you, as if mulling over a million words he wants to say. Instead, he flexes his fingers, and the scabbed skin of his knuckles cracks open. “Finish it.”

“Why?” you ask. “They could have chosen any house. They chose ours. It was never personal, Joel, until you made it personal.” 

You embrace your trembling arms as your adrenaline seeps, bone-deep exhaustion settling in. “I would have gone back to sleep last night,” you tell him. “I would have crawled into bed with you and let it all go away.”

A flicker travels through his eyes: like he’s been lashed in the back. “I can't,” he says. “I can't just… let it all go.”

You laugh, and it’s so hollow, so nothing, that you know a part of you is forever gone.

“I never really knew you, did I?” 

He shakes his head, reaching for you only for you to pull back. A dance. “You know me. You do,” he pleads. “Baby, c’mon… you know me.”

Maybe you do. Or, maybe you used to. You knew that his favourite colour was blue. You knew that he liked to bind old books as a hobby, and that you went to used bookshops in your free time to surprise him with new projects. You knew that he was a good cook. You knew that he liked John Keats and old, terrible action movies and Hank Williams. You knew a Joel you may never have known at all.

You cast your eyes down at his knuckles, at the stitched wound in his belly. Red stains the grooves of his palms. Doesn’t he know that you just wanted to go home? “You may be doing the killing, but all of that blood is on my hands. Did you ever think about that? Do you even care?”

“He gave me no choice,” says Joel.

“There is always a choice.”

Joel traces his thumb over your wound, his eyes glimmering. He's beautiful in this light, in the way he looks a little broken from the inside. “He would've hurt you. He would have violated you.”

“What will you do when you get your revenge?” you demand. “What happens then?”

“It’ll be done,” he says desperately. “And we can go home.”

“Home.” You chew up the word and it tastes like glass. “Home is with my husband. I’m looking at you now, and I don't recognise an inch of the man I married.”

Joel chokes, giving up, giving in, his hands on your face, touching his forehead to yours. “Baby, please. You have to understand…”

You cradle his wrists like they’re porcelain, allowing yourself this final silence. “We don't have a home anymore, Joel. We have this hotel room. And right now, I just need to go to bed.”

You pry away his hands and cross the room. It’s colder here, the autumn air a balm to your skin. You begin to untuck the sheets from your bed and catch a glimmer of gold out of the corner of your eye.

Joel doesn’t turn to face you, but you hear his voice like it’s coming from your own chest. 

“I love you,” he says. “I've only ever loved you.”

You look down at the golden coin you left on the table. Unity is Strength. 

“That's the one lie I still want to believe.”

#fic: helen #kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #john wick au #pedro pascal

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V // REQUEST -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

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

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[lizardboiii]

｡･:*˚:✧ANGER MANAGEMENT {Possessive!SukunaxFem!Reader}

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✧Summary: Anger management was by no means your strong suit. No amount of lessons or prayers could change that. In fact, it feels like you’ve been doing a lot worse lately with the appearance of a new neighbor in your next door apartment.

✧Chapter summary: Quality sibling time is enhanced with spaghetti propaganda.

✧Warnings: 18+, Slight NSFW, vulgar language, younger sibling behavior✧

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｡･:*˚:✧⤷Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x afab!reader

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapters: (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi) (vii)

｡･:*˚:✧⤷w/c: 4.5k

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Tropes: NeighborsAU!, AncestorsAU!

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｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapter II : INFURIATED

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Hiding from your problems was one thing, but hiding from someone who lived directly next door was another. After your little ‘session’, guilt struck you like a truck. There was no way you could look Sukuna in the eyes in your current state.

So, here you were today sitting at home like always but with one thing different. Obnoxiously loud rock music barreled through your apartment like a hurricane. Your walls shook vigorously with every base drop.

Now normally you’d give your sweetheart neighbor a pleasant surprise visit, but not today. You had gone two days in a row without seeing his face, and you definitely needed another week to even hear his voice.

Cringing, you thought back to how you've been practically sneaking out of your own apartment when leaving for work. It was routine at this point, poke your head out, look both directions, and make a b-line for the elevator. You were surprised with how well it was actually working out.

Sighing in defeat you swaddled yourself with a blanket on your couch in some hope of drowning out the music. You groaned when you noticed the music somehow getting louder.

That’s it. Whipping up to your feet, you haphazardly threw your blanket to the ground and stormed over to your door. Practically tearing the door off its hinges, you entered the hall virtually frothing at the mouth.

Your anger carried you over to Sukuna’s door with a quickly extinguishing confidence. You stood before the white door and bit your lip. You’d be able to look at him, right? You didn’t even really do anything bad, right? 

Letting out a deep sigh you facepalmed. You were by no means a coward, but right now you felt like one. Raising your fist to knock, you held it still in another moment of hesitation. Should you just suck it up and go home?

However, fate had chosen for you as the door suddenly swung open up to a taken aback Sukuna. His eyebrows rose at your smaller figure, hand still lingering in the air.

You were quick to put your hand down, “Could you turn down the music?”

Sukuna leered at you, “No yelling this time?”

Flashes from two days ago entered your brain. Sukuna’s rough voice, deep and dangerously addictive.

Shamefully, you bore your eyes into the floor and mumbled, “Just turn the damn music down.”

You heard Sukuna shift above you, a thoughtful hum passing through his lips, “I can’t hear you.”

You shoved your heels into the ground, “Turn down the music, please.”

Sukuna whistled, “And a 'please' too? What’s gotten into you, piggy?”

You felt like you could tear your hair out. Looking back up at him through your lashes you scowled at him. His red eyes scanned your face with such amusement you wanted to punch him again.

“Turn down the fucking music, scum.”

Sukuna smiled wildly. You noted how his pearly white teeth held a slight sharpness to them. Like a predator.

“No.”

You snarled at his pleased expression. What the hell did you even expect? In the spur of the moment an idea shot through your head as you glanced behind him. His dreaded speaker sat passively on his kitchen counter, music still flowing out of it in waves.

“Move.”

Sukuna raised his brow before you shoved his body aside and stormed in. You’d never been in his place before, only catching glimpses whenever you fought.

The room smelled faintly of a sharp woodsy scent, something you recognized but weren’t sure from where. Scanning the entrance you noticed his place was the same layout as your own apartment only flipped.

It was surprisingly neat too. The entire place was organized without a single dish in the sink. You cringed when you thought back to the state of your own apartment. He put you to shame. 

A large hand hastily grabbed the back of your collar and pulled, choking you in the process, “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

You grabbed Sukuna’s hand and tried to pry it off, “If your so incapable of turning down your own music your poor considerate neighbor will help.”

Sukuna pulled your form closer to his chest, “I don’t think so, rat.”

You struggled against his grasp causing his other arm to wrap tightly around your waist. You cursed under breath at the secure hold.

Sukuna leaned down into your ear and chuckled, “Listen if you wanted in so bad you could’ve just asked.”

You swallowed hard at your predicament. Pressed up against him, you could feel the outline of his toned chest engulfing your back. His arms felt impossibly muscular, trapping you tightly with them. 

Slowly, the hand that fit snugly against your waist made its way higher, directly pushing underneath your breasts. 

Your heart was beating so fast you could hear the thumping in your ears, “Get off.”

Sukuna’s other hand moved from the collar of your shirt to roughly grab your chin. Harshly pulling your face up, he grinned at your panicked expression, “What if I don’t want to?”

Your face burned at his proximity. Too close. Trying to pull your face away, you winced when Sukuna’s calloused hands squeezed your face harder. The crescent of his nails dug into your skin creating small droplets of blood.

Trying to ignore the ache in your cheeks, you glared into his sharpened eyes. You could swear their eerie red shone brighter. Swallowing, you watched him glance from your eyes to your lips then back to your eyes again.

You internally scolded yourself as you found your eyes doing the same. However, you lingered on his lips for far longer. They looked soft. The curve of his cupid's bow looked as if they might even fit perfectly with yours. 

Mindlessly, you felt yourself lean forward into him, eyes still locked on his lips. How would he taste? Minty? Or perhaps sweeter?

You bit your lip and forced yourself to draw back, this was not the time to be seduced by your neighbor. A dark chuckle made you return your eyes back up to deep red ones.

“Scared of a little kiss?” Sukuna pulled you forwards, lips just grazing your own, “Or just scared you’ll like it.”

Your body shivered as you closed your eyes, “Fuck off.”

SLAM

“BROTHERRRRRR!!”

You flinched so hard at the new voice you thought your soul left your body. Tearing your face away from Sukuna’s grip, you tried to shove him off you. Sukuna’s grip reluctantly gave way as he turned his attention to the new intruder.

“Yuuji,” you swallowed hard at the venom that laced Sukuna’s voice, “Why are you here so early?”

Yuuji merely scratched the back of his neck laughing off his brother’s bitterness, “I figured since I was late last time I’d come a bit early today!”

Sukuna rubbed his face with a deep sigh, “Of course you did.”

You sucked in your cheeks at an oblivious Yuuji. You had to thank the kid though. He just saved your sorry ass from becoming a certain playboy’s next victim of the night.

Pouting at his brother, Yuuji’s eyes eventually found you, “Hey (y/n)! How’s it going?”

You shrugged, “Better now.”

Glancing over, you side eyed an irritated Sukuna. He glared down at you with disdain as you threw him a fake sympathetic look.

“Are you here for dinner too?” Yuuji smiled brightly as he pulled two full grocery bags from behind his back.

“No-” “Yep!”

You quickly cut off Sukuna with a malicious grin. Hey, if you had to suffer through his music he could afford you a meal. 

A large hand started shoving your back towards the door, “No. She was just leaving.”

You dug your feet into the ground, pushing against him, “Hey!”

“What!? No way! You have to stay!” Yuuji jumped in front of your path waving his arms frantically, “We have more than enough to spare anyway!”

Sukuna’s hands moved to grip your shoulders tightly, “I’m feeling pretty hungry.”

“Pleaseeeeeee,” Yuuji held his hands out in prayer.

You flinched as Sukuna’s grip strengthened, “Fine. She can stay for just dinner.”

Yuuji shot his hands up in the air in victory, “Yes! Let’s get cooking!”

You smiled at his cheery form. He was just as bright as the first time you ran into him.

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A soft knock rang out through your apartment as you sat on your couch painting your nails. Sighing heavily you set your polish down and shook your hand to dry it. Blowing on your freshly drying nails you opened the door to see…a familiar figure???

Your eyes widened at the sight of a tinier Sukuna. Though, this one had light brown eyes that looked as if they were melted gold. His hair was messier too, with black roots below his matching pink hair which contrasted with Sukuna’s pure pink look.

In some sick coincidence his face sported two tiny birthmarks under his eyes that matched the two tattoos under Sukuna’s eyes. There was no doubt he was another spawn from wherever the hell Sukuna crawled out of.

You stared at his form in a stupor, “Uh, hello?”

The boy’s eyes widened in confusion as he frantically looked at you then down to a scrap of paper in his hand, “Uhhhh, sorry I think I have the wrong apartment!”

You laughed at his troubled expression, “I take it you're related to another certain pink haired gentleman?”

You gagged in your mind. Gentleman your ass.

The boy ruffled his hair and laughed tiredly, “Right on the mark.”

You pointed to the door next to yours, “One over.”

He followed your finger and smiled brightly, “Ah, thank you so much…”

You lifted your hand, “(y/n) (l/n).”

“Itadori Yuuji! I’m here visiting my brother,” He firmly grasped your hand and shook it.

You felt taken aback by the strange interaction. It felt like you were in some alternate dimension with a normal well behaved Sukuna. 

“Well Yuuji, I must say you are far more pleasant than that brother of yours, that’s for sure.” 

Yuuji laughed, “I get that a lot.”

You matched his smile with your own, “It was nice meeting you, Yuuji. I hope to see you around some time, it’s nice to have a civil conversation for once.”

Why couldn’t this one have moved in next door?

“Same here, see you around (y/n)!” Yuuji threw you a salute before spinning on his heel.

You watched as he trudged over to the correct apartment and knocked. Poor kid, having to deal with that asshole for a brother. Not bothering to have another altercation with Sukuna, you quickly retreated into your apartment and returned to your nails. Grumbling when you noticed you managed to smear one.

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You smiled fondly at the memory as you watched Yuuji cook from the kitchen’s island counter. To your astonishment you managed to run into him far more than you thought you would after your first encounter. He surprisingly visited Sukuna several times a week. 

Soon enough, you managed to find out he went to the local university as a student. He lived in the freshman dorms but stayed with Sukuna whenever he wanted some alone time. You grimised at the thought of Sukuna being a safe haven. As if.

Speaking of the devil, Sukuna stood next to Yuuji cutting up tomatoes for the spaghetti sauce. As much as you liked watching him slave away for you, you figured you might as well help out as a courtesy for Yuuji.

You called out from the counter, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Yuuji hummed, “You're our guest, no need to worry!”

Sukuna scoffed next to him, “It’s better if she doesn’t get her hands on the food anyway. Who knows what she’d put in it.”

You frowned, “I’ll have you know I’m a fantastic cook!”

Sukuna turned to you with a sly grin, “Is that why I constantly hear your fire alarm going off?”

Clenching your fist on the table you snarled, “Some foods are better burnt!”

His eyebrows turned inward, “Like what?”

You chewed on your lip looking for an answer before you abruptly stood up and walked over to him. Snagging up a knife, you held your hand out for a tomato.

“I’ll show you how good I am.”

Sukuna held your gaze tauntingly before he dropped a small tomato in your hand, “Then show me.”

You huffed and set the tomato down on the cutting board. Slicing, you went slow trying to make all the cuts even. You scowled as your plan failed, only making your cuts even more uneven. 

Turning to Sukuna, you looked to see how he was faring. There was no way he was doing that much better than you. 

Your eye twitched in disbelief as you watched him cut through tomatoes at the speed of light, each slice perfect. 

Sukuna side eyed you, “Need some help?”

You growled and slammed your knife into the tomato harder, “No.”

You halted your movements when you heard an annoyed sigh and the drop of a knife. Casually, Sukuna placed himself behind you and wrapped his arms around either side of you. His left hand immediately grabbed your own and helped you hold the tomato steady while his right assisted your cutting.

“No need to take it so slow,” Sukuna lifted your hand and brought it down firmly, “A good rhythm is all you need.”

You grumbled and followed his movements, the feeling of his body becoming a lot more apparent.

Sukuna leaned into your ear, “Just like that.”

You flushed as he sped up his pace, slicing the tomato faster. Your senses felt on overdrive as you drowned in his cologne, something you ignored earlier in favor of staring at his lips. You held the knife harder trying to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

“You're doing so good for me.”

The knife sliced through the final chunk with blaringly loud ringing. You felt like you were on fire. 

“Good girl.”

Keeping your gaze on the chopped tomato, you prayed Yuuji was too preoccupied to look to his left. But just as quickly as your tomato was cut, Sukuna’s warmth was gone.

Wordlessly, you glanced to your left at a humming Yuuji. You flinched in surprise when you noticed him glance over as well. He threw you a cheeky grin and raised his eyebrows, eyes darting between you and Sukuna. 

Your jaw twitched as you playfully punched him, “Quite, brat. I just needed help with cutting.”

Yuuji smiled smugly, “Sureeeee~”

Another punch to his arm sent him into a laughing fit. Little brat. You were starting to see the Sukuna in him right now.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Laying on your stomach on the living room floor, your mouth was watering at the smell exiting the kitchen. You sighed pitifully as your stomach groaned. How much longer?

The blessing ding of a timer made your head snap up in the direction of the oven. An equally carnivorous Yuuji rocketed through the kitchen and grabbed a testing spoon. You watched fervently as he tasted the sauce.

With a hungry grin Yuuji turned to you, “It is complete.”

You jumped to your feet and made a mad dash to the kitchen, “Finally!”

Like starved animals you both hastily grabbed plates and began dumping pounds of freshly made spaghetti on them. Yuuji snagged a pitcher of water before he claimed a seat at the table as you followed in suit.

Excitedly, Yuuji lifted his filled fork up to his mouth only for a hand to grab his head. Sukuna frowned at him, “You didn’t save any for me, brat.”

Hearing his words you looked at Yuuji and then the empty pot. Sheepishly scratching the back of your head, you grabbed a spare plate and began dumping your extra servings onto it. Hesitantly, Yuuji coughed up some of his own before placing the plate down in front of Sukuna’s seat.

Sukuna merely sighed at your childishness and pulled out his chair to sit down in front of you. You were thankful you weren’t sitting next to him but you weren’t sure if sitting across from him was any better.

Twirling your fork in your noodles, you watched the brothers playfully interact. Yuuji shook his fork in defense at Sukuna who was attempting to steal more food. The two argued like a married couple.

You smiled softly at the sight before a soft pang hit your heart. You thought back to your own family. The home cooked meals, careless banter, attentive family members. But that was long gone. You had run from them like you always ran from everything.

Your mistakes had done enough damage for a lifetime, you couldn’t afford to be in the presence of their sympathetic eyes. 

“(y/n)?”

You glanced over to a concerned Yuuji. Well, concerned from what you could tell. Sukuna’s hand took over most of his face as he was shoved away.

You let out a puff of air at the sight, “Hm?”

“PROTECT MY LAST MEATBALL!”

Your eyes widened as Yuuji flung a stray meatball from his fork at you.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” 

You scrambled to catch the loose meat before it hit the floor, recoiling at the wet feeling of the sauce. The sudden screech of a chair indicated a pissed Sukuna bolting from his seat. 

“Put that down!”

You panicked as Sukuna stormed over to you. A quick flash of Yuuji throwing his hands over his head asking you to pass made you sigh.

Sukuna picked up his pace, “DON’T YOU DARE!”

In defiance, you chucked the meatball at Yuuji as Sukuna reached you. The sphere flew through the air before Yuuji caught it in his hand. Sukuna snarled as he lunged at Yuuji.

Laughing hysterically, Yuuji threw the meatball back at you as Sukuna wrestled him to the ground. Catching the meatball, you gaped at the pair of brothers fighting.

Yuuji flung his body around wildly trying to escape Sukuna’s relentless hold. A swift kick to Sukuna’s face made you snort.

Yuuji screamed when Sukuna regained the upper hand causing you to grab the counter trying to catch your breath. You shook uncontrollably as your laughter slowly became unstoppable.

“KAHH, (Y/N) HELP ME!!!!”

Yuuji struggled on the ground as Sukuna pinned his arms behind his back. You sucked air through your teeth at the sight, “You're on your own for this one, pal.”

Yuuji cried out as Sukuna slammed his body down one last time before he lashed at you, “Throw that shit away right now.”

You smirked at his aggravated expression before dropping the meatball to the ground, “Opps.”

The precious meatball landed on the tiled kitchen floor with a sickening plop. All at once Yuuji cried out in loss as Sukuna yelled in frustration. Letting go of his brother, Sukuna sprinted at your form.

You laughed harder and ran behind the island counter. Sukuna slammed his hands on the marbled surface as he glared at you from across, “Clean that shit up, right now.”

You flipped him off, “Kiss my ass.”

You yelped in surprise when Sukuna abruptly hurled himself over the counter and grabbed you. Pulling you over the island, he picked you up by your hips and threw you unceremoniously over his shoulder. 

You lifted yourself up on his shoulders and pounded on his back, “Put me down, asshole!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

You cried out when he ruthlessly threw you down on the couch. Your body bounced up and down from the force as you scowled up at an annoyed Sukuna. Beside you, Yuuji lay drained on the floor as he cracked up laughing at Sukuna's pissed face. 

Crossing his arms, Sukuna frowned at you both, “You’ll both be cleaning my kitchen if you ever plan to leave this place alive.”

You glanced at Yuuji who gave you a look before he mocked Sukuna, “Who died and made you king?”

The stomach-turning cracking of Sukuna’s knuckles shut Yuuji up immediately, “I mean, yes sir!”

You smiled, “I suppose I could help as well.”

Getting up from your spot, you and Yuuji quickly got to work cleaning the mess. Yuuji washed the dirty dishes while you sat on the floor scrubbing the sauce the meatball left off.

Wiping up the soapy water from the floor, your brows creased as legs came into your view. Glancing up you frowned at a smirking Sukuna.

“That’s a good look for you.”

You sat up from your crouched position and rubbed your back, “What do you mean?”

“On your knees in front of me.”

You choked on your spit, “What-”

Smooth laughter mocked you as you quickly stood to your feet. You crossed you arms and glared at him, “Your fucking disgusting.”

Sukuna leaned his back against the counter, “Damn, and I was getting used to the view.”

You threw your dirtried rag at his face. A swift hand easily caught it and threw it back. Agitated, you tossed it on the counter, “You're insufferable.”

Sukuna laughed, “You're an easy target.”

Before you could wring his throat, a cheery Yuuji let out a loud exaggerated sigh, “I can’t believe the night is almost over.”

Thank god. You were starting to realize how much you hated Sukuna again.

“Wait!” You flinched at Yuuji’s mood switch, “Let’s watch a movie!”

“Absolutely not.”

Yuuji pouted at his brother's words, “Come on! I never get to hang with (y/n)! I bet you get to all the time!”

You internally cringed. Like you’d ever willingly hang out with Sukuna alone. 

Yuuji huffed as he realized his begging was getting nowhere with Sukuna. Finding another solution Yuuji turned his attention to you.

Throwing you puppy eyes Yuuji stuck out his lower lip, “Pleaseee!”

“No-” “Alright.”

Cutting off Sukuna, you resigned yourself to Yuuji’s pouting. What can you say, you were a sucker for the golden retriever ones. At least your presence would annoy Sukuna.

Yuuji smiled, “Alright!”

You sighed, “What movie?”

Yuuji scratched his chin, “Anything with Jennifer Lawrence.”

You deadpanned at his response. Of course.

Once you finished cleaning you were quickly moved by Yuuji into the open living room. Claiming a seat on the end of Sukuna’s couch, you curled up in a ball and watched Yuuji scroll through Netflix. 

He currently sat on the floor with his back propped up against the edge of the couch. A pillow tucked comfortably behind his back. Sukuna, on the other hand, sat on the opposite end of the couch, his legs taking up the rest of the L shape.

“Just pick a damn movie already.”

Yuuji huffed, “Then you pick!”

Sukuna rested his head on his fist, “No.”

Yuuji exclaimed a loud sigh before settling on a random movie, “If this sucks, that's on you.”

Sukuna moved his foot to kick Yuuji in the back of the head, making him yelp and rub his scalp. You shook your head at their antics and tried to focus on the start of the movie. 

You blinked when a certain female character came on screen. Jennifer Lawrence. You looked at Yuuji who was staring at the screen intensely. Shoving your fist into your mouth, you tried to contain your laughter. At least he’ll be happy even if the movie blows.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sweltering. 

You were so hot you felt like you were dying. 

Attempting to turn to your side you froze when you realized you couldn’t. Peaking your eyes open, your mouth dropped when you came face to chest with a larger body. 

It didn’t take you long to realize you were cuddled up with Sukuna on the longer portion of the couch. 

His right arm curled suggestively around your waist and rested on your hip bone. While your own arm clung possessively over his chest. 

You gawked at the situation. Internally freaking out, you tried to free yourself as quickly and as quietly as possible. You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie, but how you got in this position was beyond you.

Gently slipping out of Sukuna’s loose grip, you carefully sat up. You blinked again in confusion when a newly appeared blanket slipped off you and cascaded down onto Sukuna’s chest. That wasn’t there either last night.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and checked the time on your phone, 3:04am. Shit it was late. You’ve definitely overstayed your welcome.

Moving to stand up, you jolted when a large hand captured your wrist and pulled you back. Its frigid temperature cooled the aching heat of your skin. 

Quickly, you snapped your head over to what you thought was a sleeping Sukuna in shock. His head laid lazily on top of his folded arm as his tired eyes took in your shape.

“Where are you going?”

You shivered at the raspiness that took hold of his voice, “Home.”

A shift from below you made you tear your gaze away from him. Looking at the floor, you eyed a sprawled out Yuuji who was snoring loudly in the center of the living room.

“Why?” Sukuna’s thumb slowly traced circles in your wrist, almost enticing you to stay.

You went to answer before strong arms captured your waist, “Just stay. It’s already late.”

You clutched the previously discarded blanket as Sukuna’s hands rubbed up and down your sides, feeling every curve you had to offer.

Slowly, a hand crept underneath your shirt caressing your bare skin. Its icy touch shot sparks through your entire body. 

“I can’t.”

You shuddered when your shirt lifted slightly as soft lips kissed your lower back. Their fullness sensually traced the dip of your spine before lifting away.

“Stay,” A rough thumb swiped tantalizingly slow underneath your waistband, ghosting over your v-line.

All you could manage was a silent nod as Sukuna’s arms pulled you back into him. His straying hands returned back to your stomach and clutched your body close. You closed your eyes and allowed him to bury himself in the crook of your neck.

His faint breath tickled your neck slightly before his lips started to trail the curve of your shoulder. You gasped lightly when he stopped near the crevasse of your neck and bit hard. He sucked and nipped at the spot making you tremble before he licked it clean.

Pushing his face further into your newly formed bruise you heard his breathing even out, signaling him falling asleep. Once soft snores entered your ear you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Allowing yourself to melt in his grasp you sighed, were you still dreaming? When you wake up will that mark still be there or was this just another one of your perverse hallucinations?

You squeezed your eyes shut. A small part of you prayed it wasn’t the last. That it was real. But you’d never admit that. 

Tonight you’d allow yourself to be wrapped up in intoxicating arms. The hatred that filled them turned still until the morning. Once you woke up you’d go back to how things were. The buffer of Yuuji no longer containing the festering anger that crawled beneath your skin. 

You’d go back to despising Sukuna.

｡･:*˚:✧⤷

--------------------------------------------------------------

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #anger issues #anger management #jjk smut #smut #slight angst #angst #hurt/comfort #modern au #neighbors au #jujutsu sorcerer #dark themes #chapter 2 #itadori yuuji

[my--moon]

ARCANE WOMEN WITH BIMBO S/O

PAIRING: Arcane Women X Bimbo!Reader (Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn) WARNING: Sexual references. Sexualisation of reader. eating out. straps mentioned. finger fucking. Smut.

JINX:

B-I-M-B-O! You're just Jinx's stupid hoe! >3•

she loves you. she loves fucking you against her bedroom walls as well.

eating your pretty cunt out as she lifted up your short skirt !! such a slutty bitch <33

tv girl duo??? blue and pink !!

let's be honest, she 100% calls you a very colourful range of nicknames (especially in bed, mainly whore n slut )

just imagine her laying you out on her bed, slipping off that awfully short top of yours off, and fondling with your tits as you grind your wet cunt against her. so cute right?

VI:

the femme to her butch!!

makes you ride her strap 100% — also records your pretty moans to make you listen to after

once your done on her hugee cock (strap) she likes to shove her thick fingers in your pussy, and vigorously twirling them in your warm walls

what ? you're tired? you can keep going another round it's okay, she'll treat you to a new dress after <3

lets you do some makeup on her

super sweet and will punch anyone that comment on your style !!

CAITLYN:

shes grown up with modest and classy people, but she does like your ditzy personality, she may find it annoying sometimes but she does love it

you're so adorable!! now eat her out.

let's be honest, you're more proactive n you're probably dom in this situation

she's so cute whining as you thrust against her hot cunt

people's assume she's topping cuz of her personality and your ditzy demeanor but it's the other way around!

none the less, she absolutely spoils you with her family's wealth and power

#arcane #sevika #vander #silco #jinx #ekko #arcane textposts #arcane local cuisine #arcane howl #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #arcane X bimbo! reader #bimbo!reader #wlw post #sapphic yearning #lesbian #lesbianism #sapphic #wlw yearning #wlw ns/fw #wlw nsft #wlw #smut post #x reader #fem reader #drabble #female reader #smut

[carlsdarling]

Hey bae!

Can you do a Carl x reader who has the biggest obsession with cats (like me) and finds out that the cat bit/scratched carl and y/n is like "well you prob made my baby mad" and carl is confusion like "wth???" and later y/n founds carl and her cat cuddling, sleeping, very aborable.💓

How to save a cat part VI

Finally, things come to an end... Y/N and Garfield got a new home. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, violence, domestic violence, angst

You knocked on the door of the broom closet, your hand anxiously clutching the cup that was warm from your urine. A superstitious, infantile part of you hoped for the impossible, for the miracle - for the pregnancy test to be negative.

Your father snatched the cup from you so that the contents sloshed out, and slammed the door again. With your heart pounding in panic, you huddled in the corner next to the mop; you would have preferred to make yourself invisible. It was cold in the broom closet, you were wearing only your pajamas and slippers, and you were freezing.

Not ten minutes later, the broom closet door opened again, and your father's shadow loomed high above you, eerily distorted, like that of a monster. Not that there was that much difference. "Come out of there," your father hissed, grabbing you and dragging you to your feet, then pushing you out into the hallway, punching you roughly in the back. He shoved you in front of him into the kitchen, where the pregnancy test sat on the table like a death sentence. Your father gave you a shove, sending you stumbling toward the table. The test showed two bold strokes - positive. Of course it was. Your mouth was all dry, and it wasn't because you were thirsty. Your mom was squatting on a chair, her eyes all red.

You backed away until your spine was against the wall. You were nauseous with fear; your father's anger was boundless, the twitching muscle beside his left eye telling. "So you let that son of a primitive policeman impregnate you," he said coldly. "I told you there would be consequences if you didn't stay away from Carl Grimes. Everything in life has consequences." You pressed against the wall in fear. "You will not have this baby, it will be aborted, and afterwards you will never leave the house alone again," your father now said in a conversational tone.

"I don't want an abortion." You were surprised to hear your own voice. "Carl and I love each other, and we want this baby, and we want to live together."

"Please what?" your father asked, stunned, and already he was slapping you so hard your head flung to the side.

"Leave Y/N alone, Robert!" your mom Jenny spoke up unexpectedly. "She's pregnant!" Her hands clenched around the edge of the table.

"Just shut up," your father growled at her. "It's all your fault anyway, Jenny! If you'd raised Y/N right, she never would have hooked up with Carl!" he yelled at her, then grabbed his wife by the arm, yanked her off the chair, and hurled her viciously across the kitchen. Your mom slammed into the dishwasher and fell to the floor, dazed.

"Stop it! Stop hitting Mom!" you scream at him, shrieking.

His head jerked around. "Oh, that's right, it's all about you, you little whore!" You tried to run away, but he held you down and started beating you like crazy until you were on the floor. You rolled up to protect yourself from his blows and kicks, but it was no use; the punches hammered down on you. You tasted blood. In the background, your mom was screaming, trying to pull your dad away from you, but she was unsuccessful; he just pushed her aside and kept on beating.

"I hate you," you moaned, "I hate you immensely. I wish you were dead and not Brooke," you spat back at him.

He then dragged you up from the floor, dragged you to the back door, opened it, and just threw you out, into the cold autumn weather where a storm was raging. You remained lying at the foot of the stairs, every bone of your battered body aching. "You are no longer my daughter," your father roared. "See where you stay with your brat!" He disappeared. It took only a few minutes, you had not yet processed what had happened, when he opened the door again and threw the animal transport box with Garfield out of the house. The cat meowed indignantly and snarled.

Sobbing, you struggled to your feet, took the box and slowly moved away from the house. The freezing rain soaked your pajamas, and your bare feet immediately went numb from the cold.

Rick's house was on the other side of Alexandria, and by the time you got there, you were at the end of your strength. You fell down on the porch and stayed there shivering and scratching at the door. It was Michonne who opened, discovered you, and cried out in horror. Then Rick was there, too, and Carl. Rick carefully picked you up and carried you into the house; Carl took the box with Garfield in it. They bedded you down on the couch in the living room; Michonne got a blanket and bandages. Carl held your hand the whole time, while you told what had happened, crying. "You're pregnant?" asked Rick, aghast, looking back and forth between you and Carl.

Carl nodded, blushing. "We...we wanted to escape," he confessed haltingly. "And seek shelter somewhere else, to be together there, with our child. We were planning to go to Hilltop, or Oceanside, or Sanctuary. Anything is better than here with Y/N's father. At least Negan would have taken us in for sure."

"Why didn't you tell me, Carl?" asked Rick, concerned.

"I didn't want to get you involved," Carl muttered. "I was afraid of Robert Andrews. That thing with my stomach, that...was him too, that wasn't a walker, I lied." He looked fearfully at the floor. "He beat me up, and he said I do not deserve to live. I was afraid he would take revenge on you if you helped us."

Rick's lips turned white with anger. Not only had the governor mistreated Y/N and thrown her out of the house, even though she was expecting a child, no, he had also seriously injured Carl and scared him so badly that Carl had wanted to seek help elsewhere rather than from his own father. He stood up with a sudden jerk.

Michonne seemed to suspect what he was up to. "You need to go get Denise right away, Rick," she admonished, "Y/N needs a doctor." She dabbed blood from your injured lip.

"First I'll wake Denise, then I'll go to Robert," Rick announced in anger, clenching his fists.

"My mom in still in the house," you said worriedly. "He hit her, too. I don't know what's up with her." Garfield grew restless in his box and meowed.

"You're safe here," Carl assured you, "Y/N can stay with us, right?" He squeezed your hand reassuringly. "She can't go back there, and we want to keep the baby."

Michonne and Rick exchanged a look. "Of course," Rick said before leaving.

                                                 ***

Rick rang Denise from sleep, then immediately made his way to the governor's house. Once there, he vibrated with anger. Briefly, he stopped in front of the house. The windows were brightly lit, unlike the neighborhood where everything was dark. Rick trudged up the steps to the front door and pounded on the door.

The governor yanked the door open. "I told you, I don't have a daughter anymore, so..." That's as far as he got, Rick's fist landed right in his face. His nose cracked, blood gushed out, and he cried out. Rick dragged him out of the house, twisted his arm, and threw him over the banister into the garden bed. Before your father could get up again, Rick was on top of him, beating him half to death. Robert Andrews didn't stand a chance against Rick's fury; anyway, he wasn't a particularly strong man, he could only go after weaker people. "Your time as governor of this community is over!" shouted Rick. Lights were turned on in the surrounding houses. "What you did to Carl is unforgivable, and then you hit your daughter, a pregnant girl! You're a miserable piece of shit, and everyone's going to know it, and you're going to spend the rest of your life in a jail cell, I swear to you!" He didn't let go of Robert Andrews until he was unconscious and covered in blood and not moving, then he entered the house and looked around searchingly. He found your mother, Jenny, lying at the foot of the basement stairs with a broken leg and severely injured, and carried her up to the first floor, where he laid her on the sofa. "I will send Siddiq to you," he promised. "And your husband will be imprisoned."

                                                           ***

Everything happened as Rick had predicted: as soon as Robert Andrews could leave the infirmary, he went to jail, and the position of governor was taken away from him. In his place, Rick and Carol were elected as equal governors. Your mom, who was openly resented in Alexandria for not fighting back and advocating for her daughters for years, decided to move to Oceanside, and your parting was frosty. Maybe someday you would be able to forgive her for her cowardice-Jenny herself had been intimidated and abused by your father-but right now you weren't able to; the fact that she had tolerated everything for so long and had taken refuge in alcohol and pills ran too deep.

Your pregnancy progressed and gradually became visible, and Carl was delighted and couldn't stop touching and caressing your belly. Carl and you had been given one of the larger bedrooms, which had a double bed, and Carl's old room was being made up as a baby's room.

You hadn't been intimate since moving in with Rick because your injuries had needed to heal and you hadn't felt like it; plus, nausea was bothering you daily. However, you spent a lot of time cuddling in bed, watching movies and playing video games. The weather was bad anyway; it had been raining almost constantly for weeks and everything was sinking into the mud.

Carl and the cat Garfield had not yet become accustomed to each other and looked at each other suspiciously. Garfield loved to lie on your bed. One day Carl indignantly showed you four bloody, parallel scratches on his hand. "That was Garfield," he complained. "He just doesn't like me."

Incensed, you put down your coffee cup. "I'm sure you've been annoying him," you accused Carl.

"No!" he defended himself. "Garfield was laying on my bathrobe. I was just trying to push him away, and he clawed at me!"

"If the cat is laying anywhere, you have to leave him alone," you instructed Carl indignantly, whereupon he pouted and disappeared.

A few days later, you went with Michonne to the storage to get food. When you returned, you found Carl fast asleep on your bed, curled up on his side. In the curve of his belly rested Garfield, Carl had buried his fingers in the cat's fur. As you approached, the cat blinked sleepily at you, whereas Carl did not wake up. "Looks like you and Garfield have finally made friends," you noted with a grin over dinner.

"Well, we had no choice," Carl grumbled, feeding Garfield a piece of cheese.

That evening, when the two of you went to bed, you were already in bed watching Carl undress. He threw his flannel and shirt on the floor, took off the bandage, yawned, got out of his jeans and looked around searching for the shirt he slept in. His lean muscles flexed under his pale skin; in the light of the bedside lamp, Carl's body looked chiseled. He spotted the shirt on the armchair and reached for it. "Don't," you said in a soft voice. "Come here." You grabbed Carl's hands and pulled him down to you to kiss him, then playfully let your fingers slide over his flanks and stomach.

"Are you sure?" Carl regarded you uncertainly; his gaze wandered to your belly, at once hesitant and desirous. You could see he was already aroused, poor Carl, it had just been too long - though you suspected he jerked off regularly in the shower.

"Yes," you purred, "I want you inside me, Carl." You reached for his boxers and slipped them off, his dick sprang free, the slightly reddish tip leaking drops of precum. "Someone's in a rush," you chuckled. "It's weird doing it here, with your parents next door," you remarked.

Carl waved it off. "It's not like they don't know we're having sex," he said dismissively. He climbed into bed with you and kissed you fiercely, pressing against you longingly. "Do you need foreplay today, doll?" he whispered. "Because I don't think I can wait long." He moaned softly as you stroked his shaft, sliding his hand between your legs to find you wet. "Perfect," he murmured, spreading your thighs and laying on top of you, propping himself up on his elbows as he slowly slid into you. You had to get used to him again, to his size stretching you out, but then it was wonderful when Carl started moving gently inside you.

"Oh God, Carl," you whimpered as your arousal continued to rise. His breath brushed hotly over your skin, and his back became slick with sweat as you made love so vigorously that the headboard of the bed scraped loudly against the wall. Then suddenly there was a "plop." You turned your head - and looked into two amber big eyes scrutinizing you punishingly. "Garfield! Ssccchhsccchh!" you shooed away the red cat, who had sat down cheekily next to your pillow. The cat hopped onto the floor, from where he continued to watch you in fascination.

Carl paused irritated in his actions. You felt his cock soften.

"This...I can't do it like this," he stammered. "Not with him watching us."

With an unwilling sound, you stood up, picked up the cat, and set him outside the room before returning to Carl. He had rolled over onto his back and was winking at you, rubbing his dick, which was already stiff again. "Ride me," he demanded in a raspy voice. His eye was half closed.

Tantalizingly slowly, you sat on top of him and let him watch as you let his cock slip into your pussy. Carl arched up under you and moaned, his cheeks all red, his mouth half open. You loved to see him like this, completely lost in his pleasure. You lazily moved your hips until Carl begged you. "Please, faster," he begged. "I'm so close." He curled his long fingers into your butt and began moaning loudly as the orgasm washed over him, pumping hot spurts of cum into you. You bent over and buried your face in Carl's brown hair as you also cum and yelled out. Carl hugged you tightly as both of your arousal slowly subsided. "I love you, princess," he whispered happily.

"I love you too, Carl." You kissed him on the lips and lay down next to him, snuggling close.

                                                           ***

Five months later, you gave birth to a baby girl. You named your daughter Ruby Lorraine - Lorraine after Carl's mother, Lori. All of Alexandria was delighted with the dark-haired, cute baby when you took her for walks.

Your father now had to do janitorial work and sweep the streets, and you and Carl carefully avoided meeting with him.

At some point, he had gotten it into his head that he wanted to see his granddaughter, and showed up at your house. "You have forfeited any right to have contact with your daughter or granddaughter," Rick informed him coldly. "And if you come within ten yards of Ruby, I will kill you."

You were fine with that - you hadn't had a father in a long time, in fact you had never had one.

Tags: @loveforcarl @knochentrocken0808 @tessasweet @taylormarieee @xxcarlswifexx

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes imagines #carl fanfiction #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fluff #how to save a cat

[sapphic-woes]

i am on my KNEES begging for sevika's pov on what was going through her head when she first smelled R and her fear and her mate-scent and kalsdjkla i want it so bad please

A/N: Since u asked so nicely I suppose I can give u a little drabble. Update: I'm a clown. This is an entire side chapter now.

Sevika Knows

Word Count: 2k. MINORS DNI

"Do you read me?"

"..."

"Lil' dude?"

"..."

"Dammit. Vi is that rookie–"

"I'm in position! Sorry, Sevika I was just getting there!" The rushed, heaving voice in her ear made Sevika's eye twitch. However, her shoulders simultaneously deflated in relief.

"Ekko, answer me even when you're not ready yet. I need to know you're alive, got it?" A fumbled response made Sevika roll her eyes, and she cut the kid off with a snarl.

"Fuck up again and you're dead, you hear? The same goes for all of you." Sevika muttered into her earpiece, nodding for Vi to follow her lead.

"Harsh much? The dude saved like 5 people on his own yesterday." Vi's light tone made Sevika frown.

"He was reckless yesterday. If Jayce hadn't been there to back him up..."

"You're joking, right? Right? C'mon Sev–the little man is just like you back in the day. Stop worrying and give him a break, will ya?" Sevika didn't bother to respond, and Vi snorted, speaking into her earpiece.

"You heard her, don't die on us okay? Die when Vander's leading a mission. Now we rush in 3...2...1...let's move!"

Sevika had to admit, this part of the job was a little fun.

The satisfaction in busting down the doors of the brothel with a smirk, gun in one hand and baton in the other, raising an eyebrow at the lowlife alphas scrambling like rats to get away with their privates still free from their pants...

It was amusing, to say the least.

"Woah there." One lady was a bit too stupid, running past Sevika only to have the alpha trip her up. She stunk of drugs, sex, and utter fear–an omega's fear–making Sevika grimace and pull out her cuffs.

"Be a good criminal and don't move, yeah?" Sevika grunted as she cuffed one of the screaming alpha's wrists, effortlessly dragging her back to the room she'd run out of. With a mocking hum, Sevika fastened the other cuff to the bed she'd clearly scrambled off of, glancing down that the omega still curled up there.

Fuck. He smelled enticingly sweet. Clearly high off shimmer and not in the right state of mind. He merely stared at his thrashing client for a moment, then sniffed the air and smelled Sevika. His eyes widened in fear, and Sevika didn't blame him. What was worse than dealing with one abusive alpha, than dealing with two?

He scurried away from Sevika, releasing a strangled string of pleas. Bruises, clear signs of restraints...are those burns? Those fucking bastards...

"Need a beta here immediately. There's a drugged omega, and he's hostile." Sevika spoke into her earpiece while she slowly backed away. She couldn't stay long–she'd spent ages torturing herself memorizing the scent of the owner of this brothel, and she wasn't going to let that gag-inducing scent get away.

The air was full of sandalwood, and the alpha turned around to ruffle Ekko's hair.

"Thanks." It was all she said before she moved on. She tried to ignore the scent of pride wafting off her body. That kid is way too eager to help...

"I smell that~" On her way through the brothel, Sevika finally caught up with Vi, who was also following the scent of the owner. The beta grunted, slamming an alpha's head into the wall. The bright, boyish grin she turned and fixed on Sevika ironically contrasted with the blood on her cheeks. Sevika kicked the alpha rushing her lieutenant from behind.

"Pay attention. I can't have another brawl with Caitlyn." Vi's smirk only widened.

"Why?" The redhead punched another alpha coming at them straight in the boobs. Talk about a low blow. "Scared she'll get serious and shoot your arm off this time?"

Sevika opened her mouth to bite back an insult, but instead her eyes widened. Shit. She gripped the back of Vi's collar and yanked the beta back behind her, helping Vi avoid the knife swinging toward her.

"Move. More like–ugh–if she gets mad at me," Sevika grunted as she punched the loser in the gut, grabbing his head when he doubled over to bash his nose in with her knee. "–I'll say some alpha caught you off guard and gave you a nice, looooong ass kiss. Got their hands alllllll down your pants before I pulled them off you."

Vi paled, turning to look at Sevika. "You wouldn't."

The alpha grinned right back, and together the two pushed through their opponents, eventually getting to the source of the owner's scent. The coward had locked himself up in his office. Pathetic. Shifting, Sevika got into position in front of the door to bust it open. "I would. Now help me out, the bastard's hiding in here."

With a grumble, Vi listened, and on the count of three, they rammed their shoulders into the door. It opened with a loud crack, dust filling the air as they entered.

"There you are..." Sevika huffed, cracking her neck as she stared at the pathetic alpha hiding behind his desk. This was the guy running this place? He looked like a fucking poser...

"Now we can do this the easy way, or the...the...." Huh? What was the line again?

Sevika faltered. Her heart skipped a beat. Her chest clenched with excitement and horror at the same time. This wasn't right. You couldn't be here. Yet as she breathed in the stuffy air, the alpha knew she wasn't mistaken.

Thick, toxic fear. The revolting, burning battery acid of lust. It was pungent. It was stale. There was nothing good about the air Sevika inhaled, nothing except...

...cherries. Delicious, mouth watering cherries underneath it all.

Vaguely, she heard Vi call out to her. But it was muffled. It was like Sevika was underwater, drowning in her need to find you. She didn't know how many pieces of shit she knocked out while she searched around. Some didn't have traces of you. Some did. She came across the latter more.

She didn't think she was the type to be too possessive. She hadn't even met you yet. Regardless, she left the ones that did smell like you choking on their own blood.

How many times did the fear permeating off you spike? Every time was torturous, and Sevika wanted more than anything to stop it.

You were in danger, you weren't okay, you were hurting–god, you were hurting. Scared and vulnerable and shit! Sevika felt like she'd die. She was seeing red. She was seeing blood–your sweet, cherry-scented blood, spilled out like lost love across the floor.

And there, holding you down was an alpha, forcing you to lick it clean.

Sevika kept herself calm in intense situations. No matter how much shimmer was in an omega or how sweet they smelled, Sevika never faltered. She identified the problem and dealt with it accordingly. Efficiently. In a timely manner. And most importantly?

Calmly.

Sevika felt the alpha's throat squeezing under her fingers before she was aware she was holding it. There was something growing inside of her. Something animalistic. There was nothing calm about the growl bubbling up in her chest, or the way she barred her fangs. Something twisted in her fervent desire to kill the alpha squirming in her grasp.

Worse, her sick urge to abandon the struggling worm altogether and focus on covering you in her scent instead.

You were her's, weren't you? So why was the sick smell of others clinging to your skin, making her want to rip those clothes off you and mark every last part of your body? Why was your scent, that precious fragrance, clinging to this thing on the floor?

She wanted to beat it out of the alpha.

She nearly did.

"You're gonna kill them at this point!" What the fuck was Vi doing here? Sevika stared down at the beta tugging her off in confusion. Anger sparked up inside her chest, and against her better judgment Sevika stepped dangerously close to the beta. She towered over Vi, emitting pheromones daring her to go against her.

"So?" Vi's defiance made Sevika's hands twitch. Sevika felt ready to throw the beta into the wall. How dare Vi stop her? That alpha had been all over you, hurting you, and she wanted to let them live?

"So the first thing you want her to see is you killing someone? She's terrified, Sev." It took a moment for Sevika to process Vi's words. Another to sniff the air–and realize that your fear was just as thick as her anger.

Oh. Suddenly, the fire burning in Sevika left her. You were small. Trembling. Huddled like if you tried hard enough, you could mold yourself into the wall and disappear from her sight.

Maybe that's what you wanted. She wouldn't blame you if you did.

Sevika took a hesitant step toward you. Logically, she knew she needed to calm you down. Say who I am, what our purpose is. We're here to rescue. This place is being shut down. I'm friendly. I'm nice. Not gonna hurt you. We can gladly provide medical care–

"Cool it." Fuck. You were shrinking into yourself even more. Was that even possible? It was cute. Sorta. Kinda like a little rabbit...

...that was terrified of a big bad, scary wolf.

Fuck.

"Right. Fuck." She was the wolf. Right. She was also the idiot trying to approach you anyway. Right.

Sevika took deep breaths to calm herself. She didn't even know she could get this angry. Yet here she was practically drenching the room in her fury. Even Vi had her fingers curled into fists, clearly affected. How much worse was it for you?

Calm. Calm. Gotta stay calm. Sevika managed to relax a bit, but she couldn't tell if it actually helped. You still looked scared outta your wits. Would it be better to leave? Maybe let Vi handle this? Anything to make sure you–

"I-I sorry. I'm sorry can–I'm. I'm useful."

What?

What did she call herself?

Sevika froze, dreading what she'd just heard. Logically it made sense that you, an omega clearly collared, having been pinned to the floor when she'd come in would be–but to–

To talk about yourself like this?

"I'm g-good at it." Don't say that. Don't say that like that's all you're meant for. Please baby, don't say that...

"Please, p-please don't ki–"

At those words. Those heartbreaking, dreadful words, Sevika's knees hit the floor before she knew it.

Sweetheart...how many times have you been scared to die?

It's the only way Sevika thought would let you know she's safe. Perhaps she should go, and leaving it all to Vi would be best...but she can't. Not when you're shuddering all over, covered in blood and tears, looking like you're seconds away from breaking apart.

She's being selfish. Sevika knows it when she tells you to get up and you take it like an order. She knows it when you call her master–and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She's nauseous. Sick–feeling like every other rotten alpha when she tells you to call her by her name, and you do it like there's a consequence to your actions if you don't.

Sevika knows.

You're looking at her like she holds your life in her hands. Like she's authority. So when she does hold your frail body in her arms, she feels like a sinner, and when you take a deep breath into her chest, drink in her scent as if it's good–

The alpha doesn't know whether to smile, or to cry.

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane sevika #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon #sevika headcanon #arcane vi #caitvi #arcane ekko

[builtbybrokenbells]

Spitfire | vi

Rumours spread around the internet, causing turmoil like never before. In a desperate attempt to forget,y/n takes solace in the bar, making it a mission to forget him completely. Jake is left wondering if he’ll ever get a chance to explain himself. When her roommates try to do damage control, they’re left wondering if the Twitter feed and speculation is really the biggest issue, or her way of covering up her crippling fear of falling in love.

Read part five here

Read part seven here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: cheating/cheating rumours, Twitter, binge drinking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, lots of angst, crying, like a 2 second mention of throwing up (very short because i hate throwing up with a violent passion), basically this whole chapter is an angsty shitshow because I live for drama, sorry if I missed any!

so obvi i had to throw in some heartbreak to offset all the fluffy happiness, cause that’s just who i am. lots of projection in this one (hey, at least I’m owning up to my flaws) but this is just an angsty mess before we get to a happy ending cause I wanted to showcase how detrimental the internet/social media can be and how bad ldr sucks 😁 as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻 (also thank you all so much for the love on this series. im having a lot of fun writing it and it overjoys me to see that other people like it, too)

~

Your feet carried you to the living room, speed faster than you’d ever ran before. When you turned the corner of the hallway, your footing slipped and you had to brace yourself on the wall. Eve was sprawled on the couch. She looked to you, eyes wide with panic, scared that something bad happened. “What has got you all riled up?” She threw her phone beside her, sitting upright.

“I-I, uh, I just…” you were breathless, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to formulate your words. “The… t-the-“

“Just fucking spit it out!” She laughed, clearly understanding that your rapid approach was due to good news rather than bad.

“Okay, sorry.” You ran your hand through your hair, pushing it away from your face. “I think I’m gonna throw up.” You laughed, fanning your face with your hands. Tears were threatening to spill over, and your skin was prickling with excitement. “So I started my internship on Monday, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She said, waiting for an explanation.

“And I met everyone in the ‘office’.” You air-quoted office, knowing you’d only interact with them over zoom meetings for the four month duration. “But I met the head of the department today, the big boss.” She gave an eager nod. “He told me that he read over my research report. He said it was one of the best he’s ever read.”

“No way!” Eve was standing now, bouncing with just as much enthusiasm.

“Yeah, but that’s not it.” You stopped her. “I mean yeah, that’s fantastic, but it’s way better than that.” You felt the tears begin to roll down your cheeks, too caught up in the situation to care. “He wants to continue on with it. He told me he thinks the idea is fantastic and worth the money. I’m not going to be working on, or following up somebody else’s research this summer. They want to work on mine.” Her eyes were wide, her previous demeanour completely frozen. After a few seconds, she exploded into a scream and engulfed you into a hug. You held on to her, wanting to yell just as badly. “Can you punch me? Just to make sure I’m not dreaming?”

She pulled back, shaking her head and wiping your tears away. “Not a dream.” She laughed, pulling you in for another embrace. “Y/n, they picked your topic from an undergraduate, not even a masters or a PhD. Do you know how huge that is?”

“I know! He told me he’s been waiting to work with me since the end of my first year. Apparently I’m the at the top of the program.” You were almost lightheaded, not being able to process what was happening.

“I’m so proud of you.” She said, taking your hands into hers. She gave them a squeeze, bringing you back to reality. “Did you tell anyone else?” You shook your head.

“No, I was going to text the sibling group chat and get it all over at once. I want to call Jake, but I’m just not sure if he’s busy or not.” You explained.

“Call him! If he’s busy, he won’t answer. I think this is way too important to wait to tell him.” She encouraged you.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna… I’ll go call him.” You breathed.

“Okay, but I’m taking you to dinner tonight to celebrate. We’ll go to The Garden, maybe get some drinks afterwards. It is Friday, after all.”

“Yeah, that sounds amazing. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You assured her.

“Good, now go call your loverboy.” She shooed you away. You jogged back to your room, letting the door fall shut behind you.

It had been almost two weeks since Jake left, meaning that your trip to Atlanta was right around the corner. Your brothers left the week prior, leaving your home quieter than you liked it. It was amazing having everyone there, but it was terrible when they all had to leave. You were adjusting, though, and knowing you were going to see Jake in a few days was really helping.

You slipped on the hoodie he’d so graciously left for you, and found the bottle of cologne, giving the front a small spritz. The smell immediately swarmed your senses, making you close your eyes in bliss. When your end of day meetings came to a close, you practically lived in his sweater. Him being gone this time was a little easier now that you had small reminders of him. You pulled your phone out, dialling his number off by heart. Your hands were vibrating as you clicked the speakerphone button. The dial tone rang a few times, but you couldn’t help but hope he’d pick up. You tapped your fingers on the wood of your desk, trying to remember if he told you he had a show or an interview that day.

“Hey, it’s Jake. Leave a message.” Your stomach sank with disappointment, but you didn’t let it last too long.

“Hey, rockstar. Big news, call me as soon as you can. Love you.” You didn’t let the voicemail linger, ending the call as soon as you finished speaking. As you stared at the screen of your phone, you realized you hadn’t heard from Jake since the night before. It was very strange of him not to send a good morning text, but you were so busy with work meetings all day you hadn’t picked up your phone at all.

You debated calling again, but decided against it. Instead, you went to your contact list and clicked on Josh’s name. You were expecting the same empty tone, but you were surprised when he answered after the first ring. “Hey, mama.” His usually happy tone was so comfortably familiar.

���Hey, Josh.” You couldn’t help but smile. Josh had rapidly become another brother to you, just the same as Sam and Danny.

“What could I have possibly done to deserve a call from such an angel?” You rolled your eyes, a laugh making its way out. Josh was a very verbal person, and extremely friendly, too. At first, you were a bit thrown off by his strong compliments, but you’d gotten over it quite quickly once you realized Jake never batted an eye about it. Clearly there was a lot of mutual trust between the two.

“Just missed your sweet voice, is all.” You joked. He let out a small chuckle.

“You’re too kind,” he said “but really, what’s up? Usually I’m the one calling you.”

“Don’t say it like that, that makes me sound like an asshole.” You replied.

“You know what I mean.” You could practically hear his eye roll through the phone.

“I know,” you assured him. “I was just calling to see if you knew where Jake was. I haven’t heard from him all day and I got some pretty big news. I called to tell him and he didn’t answer. I thought maybe you were all doing rockstar stuff, but it seems like you were waiting around for someone to call you.” You teased.

“Maybe I just drop everything to talk to you. Have you thought about that?”

“Whatever you say, Joshua.”

“To answer your question, I have no idea where he is. Today is kind of a day off, I guess. We’ve got a meeting tonight, but that’s more of us just hanging out with the managers.”

“Oh, that’s weird, then.” You said, uneasiness sprouting in your stomach.

“He could be asleep, or in music writing mode. I’ll get to the bottom of it for you.” He promised.

“Thanks, super-sleuth.” You laughed.

“What’s your big news?” Josh asked, changing the subject. You didn’t think the topic change was suspicious, more or less just Josh being nosy.

“I don’t know if Jake would forgive me if I told you first.” You were being honest. Jake wanted to be your biggest supporter, and you didn’t know if you telling Josh first would cause any issues. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him.

“Ah, come on, mama. He didn’t answer, so it’s his loss. Besides, we’re practically the same person. Same DNA and all, you know?”

“I don’t think that makes you the same person, honey.” You giggled. “I think you just want to know.”

“Duh,” he scoffed “I won’t tell him, I promise. I’m really good with secrets.” Somehow, you weren’t sure if you believed him. But you were so excited about your accomplishment that you were itching to tell anyone who was willing to listen.

“Fine, okay, but promise you won’t say anything.”

“I won’t, I swear!” You could hear the giddiness in his voice.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to it, then.” You told him. “Basically, I started my summer internship with the biotechnology society this week. Today I met the head of the department and he told me he’s been wanting to work with me for a long time. He read my report about non-invasive blood-glucose tests and he wants to take it a step further. He thinks it’s worth the time and money.” You rushed out, feeling the excitement take over again.

“Y/n, that is fantastic!” He said. You could feel his smile in his words. One thing you adored about the four boys is that they all seemed incredibly genuine.

“Thank you, Josh. It’s super cool. Usually they only study graduate topics, but I guess he thinks I have what it takes.” You breathed, barely believing your own words.

“You absolutely have what it takes, mama, and Jake is going to be over the moon when you tell him.” You felt a smile break out on your lips.

“Thank you.” You really meant it. Jake and his brothers were always seemed so proud of you, and it made you feel so important. “I can’t wait to see you guys this weekend.”

“We’re really looking forward to it, too. Jake’s been so uptight when we practice because he wants to impress you at the show. It’s starting to get unbearable.” You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief as if he could see you.

“I’m going to be the biggest fan there, even if he forgets how to play every song.”

“I know that, y/n. He just wants to show off for you. I, on the other hand, don’t have to practice. I already know I’ll win you over.” You rolled your eyes.

“Uh-huh,”

“Oh come on, what’s the matter with a little brotherly competition?” He joked.

“It seems more like a pissing contest.” You said. “Well, as nice as it’s been talking to you, I must go call my own brothers and tell them the news. They’ll be really upset if they find out I told you, first.”

“Like I said, my lips are sealed.” He promised. “I’m really happy for you, y/n.” His earlier tone of humour was gone, replaced with sincerity.

“Thank you, and thanks for picking up.” You said.

“As if I’d ignore you. I’ll find out what’s up with Jake and let you know. Talk soon?”

“Of course. Talk to you later, Josh.” You bid your goodbye. He hung up first, leaving you staring at the blank screen. Worry started to consume you, unsure of what Jake could be up to. The radio silence was extremely strange.

Before calling your own siblings, you decided to jump in the shower. You connected to your Bluetooth speaker, playing music softly in the background as you undressed and turned the faucet on. You climbed in, humming softly to the first song that came up on shuffle. You washed your hair and worked at getting all of the knots out. You took your time washing your body, letting the hot water sooth your stiffness from sitting in an office chair all day. You even took the time to exfoliate and shave. When you stepped out, you felt like a new person. You dried off, wrapping your hair in a towel, and throwing on an oversized t-shit and some sweatpants.

You went back to your room and threw your old clothes in your laundry basket. As you sat on the edge of your bed, your phone chimed from beside you. Your eyes fell on the screen, trying to make out who the message was from. Josh’s name was showing in the notification bar, so you picked it up to read what he said.

Twin Rockstar

Hey, checked on Jake. Don’t think he’s in his room. Will let you know when I find him :)

You typed a quick reply before clicking on your brothers contact. You figured you shouldn’t put off telling them the news any longer, and Sam would be the most likely to answer. You told him you needed him to call you ASAP, throwing your phone back on the mattress. You got up, moving to the closet and scouring through your heaps of clothes. Your hands settled on a simple red dress. Enough to look classy, but not enough to catch too much attention. You threw it on, spritzing some perfume and throwing on some deodorant. As you took your hair down to dry, you started on your makeup. You didn’t put on too much, just enough to accentuate your features.

You finished with swiping on the same lipstick you’d worn the night you met Jake. It was your favourite one before that night, but ever since it had caught his attention, it was the only one you liked to wear. Just as you were finishing up, your phone began to ring. You shuffled over, grabbing it off the mattress and accepting the video call. “Hello, Samuel.” You said, looking over his face.

“So you saw it, too?” He asked, forgoing any type of greeting. You raised an eyebrow, confused at what he could be talking about. He watched you carefully, quickly realizing that you did not want to call him for the same reason. “Oh, nothing.” He said, sheepishly. Your eyes hardened, not willing to play the game with him. He’d always done that; start a sentence or a story and try to change topics. Usually it was only when something bad happened. He hated giving bad news.

“What, Sam?” You pried, waiting for him to give in.

“Nothing, y/n. It was probably just a rumour anyway.”

“Just tell me, please.” You sighed. He shifted uncomfortably under your stare, but eventually conceded.

“I saw something. It’s probably nothing, I just thought you saw it, too, and that’s why you wanted me to call. You never send an urgent message.”

“What did you see, Sam?” Your stomach was twisting with anxiety the more the conversation went on. He let out a jumble of words that you had a hard time understanding. When you gave him a look of confusion, he rolled his eyes.

“I was doing my daily routine of stalking everyone on the internet.” He said, seeming to have trouble with how he was going to word his sentences. Leave it to Sam to spend an hour a day to catch up on everyone else’s drama. “And I saw a couple posts, a-and I think it’s just speculation and rumours,” he led into the topic as easy as he could. “But there’s a couple pictures of Jake going around. With another girl. And everybody thinks it’s a possible girlfriend.” He breathed. Your stomach dropped, but you held your expression firm, not letting a hint of emotion through.

“Oh, okay.” Was all you said. You tried to reason with yourself, wanting to believe that it was just a misunderstanding. Then, your brain immediately focused on the fact that you hadn’t heard from him all day, which was extremely unusual. That, and he hadn’t even told his brothers where he was. You were certain if Josh was lying to you, you’d be able to tell. He wasn’t very good at it. “Can you send me them?” You asked, clearing your throat to get rid of the lump that was forming.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, squirt. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” His attempt at deflecting the impact was failing miserably.

“Just send them to me, Sam.” Your tone was becoming more angry by the second. He let out a long sigh, but did so without another word. The incoming message popped up on the top of your phone, immediately drawing your attention. You clicked on it, the aforementioned pictures unpleasantly gracing your screen. You tapped on the screenshot, zooming in a little bit to get a closer look.

There he was, unmistakably Jake, sitting at a restaurant table across from an unknown girl. There was a familiar smile on his face, one that made you sick when you thought about him giving it to another girl. You swiped through the photos, quickly finding that it was a whole Twitter chain. ‘Damn, his fans are always on top of the game’ you thought to yourself. There was pictures of them eating together, one with his hand resting on her arm, one of them walking down the street a little too close for comfort, and the last one of her wearing his jacket. You felt an indescribable feeling wash over you.

You read through the comments of fans talking about seeing it, how pretty she was, how happy he looked, and some not so nice tweets. You couldn’t help but feel a small comfort at the unsupportive statements. Your rationale was completely gone now, filled with anger at the sight. More than anything, you felt like an idiot. You fell for him so hard, but he was a boy, and a rockstar, at that. You had no idea why you believed a insignificant girl in Baltimore could tie him down. He probably had a new girl falling for him in every city he visited. Panic started to seep in, realizing that everything you were afraid seemed to be coming true. The look in his eye when he was smiling at her sent a shiver down your spine. It was so similar to how he looked at you.

There was a small part of you insisting there must be more to the story. A bigger, louder part of you didn’t care. Your trust for men and significant others was already extremely low before you met him. You’d spent a lifetime getting treated like garbage and cheated on, and even if this wasn’t the case, you weren’t sure if you even wanted to know. It was easier for you to shut down, to draw the conclusion that boys would always be boys. Although the photos weren’t a tell-all, they certainly didn’t make you feel good when you looked at them. A tiny voice in your brain was telling you that you were being irrational, and that you were doing what you always did; you were using this as a scapegoat to jump ship before you got seriously hurt. Self-destruction was a very well acquainted friend of yours, but you thought you’d left it behind a long time ago.

You took a long, shaky breath before speaking again. “I gotta go.” You mumbled, not giving Sam any time to answer. You hung up, completely forgetting about the real reason you wanted him to call you. You turned your phone on silent, throwing on an old jean jacket. You slung your purse over your shoulder, making sure you had everything you needed before you walked out of your bedroom.

The door slammed behind you with enough force to rattle the wall beside it.

As you made your way down the hallway, your jaw was clenched hard enough to made your head ache. Another classic move of yours; burying the sadness in anger. You tried to break out of it your whole life, but having four hotheaded brothers that loved to pick on you made the emotion permanent. Eve peeked her head around the corner to see what created the loud noise, but recoiled at the look on your face. You walked past her, not able to even give a glance in her direction, scared if you did you would break down. You were sure Sam would tell her, anyway. You threw a pair of shoes on and disappeared through the front door as fast as you could. You knew where you were going, and nobody was going to stop you.

You made your way down the street, eyes set forward and unwavering. The tunnel vision made it easy to ignore all of the passerby’s. By the time you made it to the front door of your favourite bar, you were positively sick with despair. Your stomach was churning and your chest was aching. You wanted nothing more than to go home and cover yourself in blankets and sleep the pain away, but you were never so willing to let a boy ruin you. You pushed through the front door with such a force that everyone’s head turned to look at you once you stepped inside. You went straight to the bar, too determined to drink to pay any mind to them. You stopped once you got in front of the bar, pulling your card out. Mike approached you, giving you a look of curiosity.

“Awful early for you to be here. Usually you only drink before 8 if something serious happened.”

“Triple whiskey sour.” You muttered, in no mood to make conversation. “And two shots of fireball.” He eyed you with concern, but pulled the bottles out, anyway. He wasn’t worried that you couldn’t handle your liquor; he was worried about why you were itching to drink so badly.

“You okay?” He asked as he slid the shot glasses towards you. You took both back to back, ignoring the burning in your chest. It was nothing compared to the ache in your heart.

“Perfectly okay, Mike.” You promised. “Never been better, actually.” He handed you the solo cup, eyes never leaving your face.

“For some reason, I don’t know if I believe you.” He said, watching you take two long drinks out of the glass.

“Quit it with the concerned act. Business is business.” You scolded, mustering a small smile to lessen the blow of the harsh words. You tapped your debit card against the machine once he pushed it towards you, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Tonight was not a dancing night, you decided. You felt your phone vibrating in your purse. It hadn’t stopped since you left the house. You were sure it was Sam, and you cared so little that you didn’t even bother taking it out to check it.

Your first drink came to an end pretty fast, and Mike, knowing you well enough, kept a steady stream of refills in front of you. By the time 9 o’clock rolled around and the bar began to get busy, you were already hammered. The anger in your body was still raging, but you were drunk enough to bury it deep under the surface. Mike had got a bit more talking out of you as the time passed, only making his concern grow more. You were very elusive as to why you were so desperate to be intoxicated, making him believe that whatever the reason was, was really bad. He’d only seen you drink like that on a few occasions, and rarely ever did you go to the bar alone.

“I think you should answer your phone, darlin’.” Mike said, eyeing your purse on the counter as your phone vibrated. As he sat with you, he took note of all the calls you were ignoring.

“You can.” You giggled, nudging the bag towards him. He sighed, reminding you of your dad when he got upset. “I’m not worried about it.” He reluctantly opened your purse and took your phone out, figuring it was better to let your friends know you were alive. You were good enough friends with Mike for him to feel comfortable enough to answer your phone for you. It definitely wouldn’t have been the first time. He tapped the screen, lighting it up to reveal the extensive list of missed calls and texts.

“Eve sent you a bunch of question marks then asked where you went. She’s called you probably a million times. Sam is very worried about you and says he’s going to fly back here if you don’t answer him. Uh, whoever ‘twin rockstar’ is called and texted a few times. Ally called. And ‘Rockstar’ called you about… fifty times.” He listed off. All you could do was laugh. ‘Fuck Jake’, you thought to yourself.

“That’s nice. Can I get another shot with my next drink?” You asked.

“Y/n, you should at least tell Eve where you are.” You played with the straw in your cup, pretending not to hear him. He gave up, sliding your phone back to where it was before. After a moment, he obliged to your request, placing both drinks in front of you. You threw the shot back, feeling someone slide into the chair next to you as you placed the glass back down. You looked over, not recognizing the boy now in your company. You weren’t sure if you were too drunk to place the face, or if you’d never met him before.

“Hey,” he smiled at you. ‘Pretty smile’ you noted.

“Hi.” You replied, not really feeling up to making conversation. You kept your eyes on your drink, not willing to look up at him again.

“What are you drinking? I’ll buy you one.” You almost laughed out loud.

“No, thanks. I’m okay.” You told him, taking a long sip from your straw to avoid any further trouble.

“Why, you have a boyfriend?” He asked. It wasn’t harsh, more of a genuine inquiry. “He must be a lucky guy.” He spoke again before you could answer. You looked over to him, an unfamiliar feeling settling under your skin. You opened your mouth to respond, but you weren’t sure what to say.

“Uh, no, I don’t.” You decided in a split second. As the words came out of your mouth, it felt like someone had punched you in the stomach. “Not anymore, so I’m just not looking for anything.” You explained, gloom casting over you again.

“Sorry to hear that. He must be real stupid to let someone as pretty as you get away.” All you could do was chuckle at his statement. When silence ensued again, he took it upon himself to fill it. “If you change your mind, come and find me.” He quickly scribbled his number down on a bar napkin and slid it your way. Your eyes fell over it, almost finding it humorous. Once he got up and walked away, you handed it to Mike after ripping it in half.

“So dark and broody broke your heart?” Mike asked, tossing the paper in the garbage.

“Don’t say it like that. Makes him sound more important than he is. You have to love someone for them to break your heart.” You explained. Mike eyed you, a knowing look on his features.

“I think you’re lying to yourself, honey.” He said, handing you another shot. He was hyper-aware of your state, wanting to recognize when he needed to cut you off. “It’s okay to get hurt. Makes us human.”

“No lies and not human.” You told him, a sweet smile on your lips.

“Whatever you say.” He shook his head, moving on to serve the next customer. You lost yourself in the music playing over the speakers, finally seeming to rid yourself of the overwhelming emotions. Your face was hot and your body felt light. Your head was swimming with words, but none of them came together to make a worthwhile statement. The intoxication had reached a point where all of your inhibitions were gone; it was a dangerous situation for someone hurting so badly. Just because you weren’t currently immersed in the hurt, didn’t mean you weren’t trying to suffocate it for good.

You walked over to the pool tables, grabbing a cue and racking the balls. You sipped at your drink, shooting aimlessly and sinking shots intermittently. After a while, a group of people joined you at your table. You had no idea who they were, or what their names were. You were sure they told you, but you were in no state to remember them. There were a few girls and two guys, and they all seemed super friendly. They were a good tool to pass the time with, or perhaps more of a distraction than anything. Either way, they were buying pitchers of drinks and sharing, and they were quite funny.

As the hour neared midnight, Mike had turned the sound system up as he usually did. You retracted your much earlier thought, realizing that dancing was the best sounding activity at the moment. One of the boys from the group took his chance, moving closer to you and dancing alongside you. Instead of recoiling, you allowed it, ready to reap the consequences later. He twirled you around, pulling you closer to him so your chest was pressed to his. You both sang the song to each other, faces dangerously close. His hand was on your hip, eyes never leaving you. You were having a good time, but couldn’t shake how wrong it felt. Sure, it was fun, but it was absolutely meaningless. You never wanted to feel something meaningless again after feeling what you had with Jake. He leaned in, attempting to catch you in a kiss, but you withdrew, suddenly feeling dirty for even letting another guy get that close to you. You were lost in thought, almost furious again knowing that Jake still had your entire heart. As bad as you wanted to rid yourself of him, you were more terrified of feeling like you weren’t his anymore, or him yours. The thought didn’t last long, because someone grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the group.

You looked to the source of the disturbance, only to be met with the fuming faces of your roommates. You took a moment to process it, blinking hard to rid yourself of the double vision. “We’ve been calling you all night.” Eve said, dangerously calm. “We didn’t know if you were dead, or if you got kidnapped, or what, until Mike called us and told us you were here.”

“Why would he-“

“Do not get mad at him for looking out for you.” She snapped. You felt a wave of nausea run through you as your face burned with heat. “I’m taking you home before you do something you’ll regret.” She pulled you towards the door, not willing to listen to any sort of explanation. When you got outside, the cool night air hit you like a million knives on your skin.

“Eve,” you mumbled. She continued walking, not listening to your warning. “M’gonna be sick.” You told her. She stopped, looking back at you. Her tough exterior faltered, now really seeing the state you were in. She pulled you back in an alleyway, gathering your hair in her hands. You braced yourself with your hand on the brick of the building, heaving until there was nothing left in your stomach. When you straightened up, there were tears in your eyes. Some from throwing up, but more from crying.

You took a step back, leaning your whole body against the wall and letting out the sob you’d been holding back all night. Ally was standing guard at the end of the side-street, making sure nobody could witness your crisis. You were consumed with the memories of the pictures you saw earlier that night, feeling a non-alcohol related sickness in your stomach. Eve dug in your purse, finding a small pack of tissues. She pulled one out and cleaned off your face as best she could before discarding it on the ground. Normally, she’d be appalled at the thought of throwing garbage on the ground. At the moment, she was willing to sacrifice her morals rather than hold on to the repulsive piece of paper.

She brushed the hair from your face, for once being completely unsure of how to help you. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen you so upset. “Let’s get you home, okay?” She whispered. You managed a nod through your inconsolable state. She led you back to the main road after helping you take your heels off. She kept a supportive hold around your back, making sure you didn’t stumble and fall. Ally took to the other side of you, also offering her support.

The walk was treacherous and much longer than it should have been. By the time the two girls got you through the door, you were nothing short of a mess. Eve whispered something to Ally that you didn’t quite catch. Then, Eve helped you to the couch and Ally disappeared from sight. Eve took a seat next to you, gently wiping away the tears staining your cheeks. You tried to catch your breath, feeling completely out of control. Within a few minutes, Ally had rejoined the group holding a plethora of items in her arms. She put them down on the couch, making fast work at her mission.

First she pulled out a few makeup wipes, handing them to Eve so she could rid you of the mascara running down your face. When she was done, she placed the wipes on the coffee table. Ally handed her a hair tie next. Eve turned you slightly, combing her hands through your hair and quickly braiding it. “Next parts gonna be a bit harder.” She mumbled. “Gotta stand for me, okay?” You gave a nod. She helped you to your feet, steadying you before unzipping the back of your dress and slipping the sleeves off. When it fell to your ankles, she pulled a large t-shirt over your head. “There.” She sighed. You slowly sat back down on the sofa, feeling the world spinning around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, squeezing your eyelids shut. Tears were still making their way out with no sign of stopping.

“I know.” She said, thumb brushing them away as fast as they were falling. “I know you’re hurting. We all do stupid stuff when we’re hurting.”

“I told him I loved him. He said he loved me, too.” You cried, feeling the ache settle in your bones again. “He promised.” You blubbered.

“I know, honey. We’re gonna get some sleep and sober you up a bit, and we’ll fix this in the morning, okay?”

“I’m supposed to go to Atlanta next weekend.” In your drunken state, you unintentionally disregarded everything she was saying. “He said he was gonna take me around the world with him. I knew this was going to happen. I never should have opened up. I never should have let this happen.” You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know if he did it, or not. All I know is that it hurts. ‘nd m’so scared because I hate when people have this much power over me.” She knew you were really fucked up over this, because it was nothing like you to come out with all of your feelings so willingly. “I love him. I really love him. I’ve never felt like this before, and it just made me realize that he makes me so happy, but he has the power to take it away whenever he wants. And he’s this big rockstar who can have anybody he wants. All he has to do is say the word. He can have girls who looks like that. Why would he settle for me?”

“Hey, that is not true. Anyone who ends up with you will be the luckiest person in the world.” She scolded, not willing to accept that.

“He’s just… he’s Jake. And he’s perfect. And I adore him. A-and I’m so scared of losing him that… that I feel like I have to leave first, to spare myself from the worse hurt, later, you know?” You hiccuped. “I always do this. M’gonna ruin it for myself because m’always so fucking scared! I tried to get rid of the feeling, to get rid of him, but all of the stuff that usually works just made me think about him even more. I don’t want him to have that power over me, don’t want him to be able to flip my world upside down whenever he wants, but it just felt so good being loved by him and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget it.” You let your head fall back into the cushion of the couch, completely defeated by how you were feeling. She quickly caught on to the fact that this whole situation may have had a lot less to do with the pictures from earlier, and much more to do with your fear of being in love.

“I know, baby.” She practically winced. She didn’t know the full story. She only knew what Sam had told her, then Jake’s incoherent babbling on the phone when he called her earlier. He was so out of his mind with worry she was surprised he didn’t jump on a plane and fly back just to make sure you were alive. Then, when she finally calmed him down enough to tell him she would make sure you were okay, Josh called and voiced his worry and defence of his brother. Eve was completely in the loop from all sides of the battle, but she had no idea what was really going on. “Ally is going to get the air mattress and we’ll all stay out here tonight. We’re not gonna leave you.” She pulled you into her, holding you close. Ally disappeared once again, off to gather more necessities. Eve rubbed your back, soothing you as you worked through your emotions. Her main concern was you, and it would always be that. Once you were asleep, she’d worry about everyone else.

The two girls banded together to pump up the large air mattress, having to take turns every now and again. Eventually, they had it set up and decorated the top with comforters and pillows. They prompted you to get in, wanting to get you to sleep as fast as possible, hoping if you got enough rest you’d feel better in the morning. They turned on a speaker, playing gentle music in the background so you could focus on something other than your hurt. It didn’t take long for the alcohol in your system to lull you to sleep, soft snores falling from your mouth.

“What the fuck happened?” Ally asked, finally winding down from the eventful night.

“I… couldn’t tell you, really. Sam sent me some suspicious pictures of Jake and another girl. Apparently Twitter thinks they’re together. And you know her, she doesn’t really believe in explanations or second chances. I guess it probably reminded her of last time. And I think she may be using it as a cop out because she’s really in love with him, and that terrifies her.”

“Do you think Jake would do that to her?” Ally asked, genuinely curious.

“He seems to be head over heels for her, but the pictures did seem kind of incriminating. He wasn’t kissing her or anything like that, but he was pretty close with her and she was wearing his jacket. Whoever she was, he looked quite enthralled in her. If i were her, I’d probably be pretty hurt, too. I don’t think she’s wrong to feel upset, especially if she didn’t know about it or who she was before she saw the pictures. I do think she should talk to him about it before running away.” Eve explained. Ally gave a nod. “Jake called me and he was super upset. Could barely understand what he was saying. He was just all over the place. Told him I’d make sure she was okay, but I didn’t ask him about it. I’m on team y/n, always. I’m not going to vouch for him, cause that will only make her mad at me.” She shrugged. “Even if he didn’t cheat on her, she’s still hurting. Maybe a bit more from her internal battles, but she’s still hurting.”

“I get that.”

“Josh called, too, trying to explain on behalf of his brother. It’s just a mess. I hope that Jake does have a good explanation, because I really like them together. But I’m not sure if she’ll listen to him, even if he does. She doesn’t listen to anyone but herself.” Eve chuckled. Ally nodded, knowing that all too well. “She already has the idea in her head, and every one of those feelings are multiplied by a thousand because she’s in love. Like, really in love. I don’t think she’s been this crazy for anyone, ever.” Just as she finished speaking, your phone began to ring in your purse again. Eve pulled it out, inspecting the screen. She sighed, rejecting the call and picking up her own phone. She dialled back the number that called you and waited for him to answer. She didn’t feel the need to completely block Jake out, but she’d be damned if she was going to let you know she was talking to him.

“Hey,” a raspy voice said from the other side of the phone.

“Hello, Jacob.” Eve said.

“Is she okay?” Her eyes looked towards you sleeping soundly on the air mattress.

“That’s a relative term, I think.” She grimaced slightly, recalling the state you had been in. “Alive, yeah, but she’s really fucked up.”

“Okay.” Jake said, clearing his throat a little bit. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“That’s also quite relative. I’d like to say I know, but I can’t.”

“I didn’t cheat on her.” He said firmly. “I’m not cheating on her. I would never do that.”

“Okay.” She replied, mimicking his earlier statement.

“I absolutely know why she’s mad at me. If it was the other way around and I saw those pictures, I’d… yeah.” He trailed off.

“I can’t defend you to her, Jake. She’s been my best friend for years. I barely know you. Even if she’s overreacting, which I am absolutely not saying she is, I’m on her side.” Eve explained. “Unless she did something really fucked up, which she didn’t, and she won’t.” She added quickly, wanting to clarify that she wouldn’t blindly stand up for you in every context. “She’s a spitfire. She goes from 1 to 100 faster than anyone I’ve ever met. Yeah, she’s upset about what happened today, but I think she’s also having a hard time with being in love. She’s scared of it. Always has been. She’s so independent that it’s actually infuriating, and I believe she may be struggling with depending on someone for once. This whole thing might have been the excuse she’s been waiting for, to run away.” Eve explained. “I think maybe if she just saw the pictures, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But all of those Twitter comments were pretty hard to read, and I’m not even dating you.”

“I know. That part of fame sucks. Everyone speculates, and stories spread before we even know that it caught someone’s attention. And I get it. I understand why you and her both feel the way you do. I would feel the same if one of my brothers got hurt.” She did feel quite bad for him. She didn’t think Jake was a bad guy, but perhaps not the best at communication. In this instance, at least. “Can you at least try to get her to come to Atlanta? Just so I can talk to her. I’ll fly her back as soon as I do, if that’s what she wants. I just can’t leave things like this, and I know she’ll never answer my calls.” His words were met with a staggering silence. After a while, Eve spoke again.

“Do you swear on your life you didn’t cheat on her?” She asked, picking at a string that had frayed from the hem of her sweater.

“I promise.” He said, quite firmly.

“Cause if I get her to go Atlanta and I find out you really did fuck her over, I’ll kill you.” She replied as a matter-of-fact.

“I would never do that to her, Eve.” She believed him, for the most part. If he was lying, he was really good at it. “I love her.” He finally admitted. The sincerity in his words took her off guard.

“I’ll try, rockstar. It may not work, and I’m not going to force her, but I’ll try to get her on that plane. Only because I think you guys are cute together, and you made her so happy. She’s never had that before. It took a lot for her to give you a chance, especially after the last guy. If this ends like this, I don’t think she’ll ever recover.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t. And also, this conversation never happened. I’m not defending you, I’m not going behind her back, nothing like that. The only reason I’m doing this is because I think it’s in her best interest. Even if it’s just closure, that’s fine by me.” She warned. “Now think up a real good apology, rockstar.”

“Will do.” He said. There was no room for any more words, because she’d already hung up. Ally gave Eve a look of caution, worried that Eve was going to rock the boat even further. Eve brushed it off, standing and flicking the lights off in the living room. She climbed on the air mattress and wrapped herself up in a blanket. Ally followed suit, both of them falling asleep not long after with the hope that the morning would bring some form of clarity.

TAGLIST: @gvfpal @jakesgrapejuice @hellowgoodbye

#greta van fleet #danny gvf #sam gvf #danny wagner #gvf #gvf fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh gvf #sam kiszka #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet angst #gvf angst #gvf imagine #gvf fandom #gvf series #gvf fanfiction #spitfire #my work #my writing #josh kiszka #fic #builtbybrokenbells

[aliusworld]

Hello, the last scenario you did was so good! ♥ I'd like to request another if you don't mind. Can I request a Shu Yamino scenario, where he finds out that they write fanfics. If it's okay, can it be nsfw? Thank you!

Eyy, fan fiction?

Warnings: NSFW, magic sorcery stuff, toys, and blowjobs

Shu helps you write some fan fiction! But in a different way that you’d expect || It’s NSFW so if you aren’t comfortable, LOOK AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shu Yamino x Reader

~

“Welcome everyone! And now it’s the time you all are waiting for!! ‘What da Vtuber doing?’!” Millie yells into her mic watching as her chat goes wild, “Let’s look at my list and see who I should call first… Ah ha! [name], our perfect candidate!”

~RING~

~RING~

~RI-

“Hello?”

“[name]! Welcome! I’m streaming right now and i’m so sorry to bother you,” Millie says as she edits your icon to fit onto her stream,

“Oh no! It’s fine, I wasn’t really doing anything important anyway!” You laugh as you stop looking at your screen and start giving all your attention to Millie,

“No no! It has to be important! So, [name], what are you doing?”

“This is going to be one of the worst things I’ll ever admit to the internet,” You sigh, “But if it’s for your content then I guess it’ll be ok… Hey, are there any [your fan name] in the chat right now?”

“Nono! None!” Millie lied as chat goes faster wondering what was going on,

“Okay… So right now I was just like… uh, ok it’s gonna sound a little sussy but I swear it’s not like that at all! I was like… writing fan fiction…!” You go on to stutter and fumble with your words in sheer embarrassment,

Millie’s chat gets filled of “WHAT!?”, “that’s kinda sussy”, “OOOO WHERE DO U POST??”, “who’s is about???”, and many many shocked emojis.

The two of you continue to talk with Millie taking jabs at you for the fan fiction comment but you don’t budge and talk about what you write, you just now it’s gonna bite you on the butt when you start streaming again.

Little did the do of you know, Shu was watching stream. Even if he wasn’t he could hear you through the thin walls, “Fan fiction? So that’s what your doing in your room…” he mumbles to himself.

You smile as Millie ends the call and silently scream out of embarrassment. You get out of your room and decide to take a stretch break and go check up on Shu, it had been awhile since you two had a conversation. Walking out of your room you move your arms around d as you try and find Shu.

“Eyy, fan fiction?” Shu asked,

You jumped from surprise, he was waiting from behind your door. Then you realized what question he asked, you blushed and punched him in the arm, “I didn’t know you were watching the stream…”

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Even if I wasn’t I could hear you talking from the other rooms,” He smiled at you punching your arm in return, “Could I help? I know big words that can describe some stuff! Probably bigger words than you do.”

“Are you making fun of me right now?” You turn around as you cross your arms, “I know big words too…”

“I was just teasing you know,” Shu smiled,

“I mean, do you actually want to help?”

“Sure, yeah! I wanna know what it’s like too!”

“Okay then, I think there’s one way… Unluckily for you there isn’t going to be any writing, yet.” You drag him into your room and grab a writing utensil and some note paper.

-NSFW STARTS NOW-

“Shu, I need some ideas… Some inspiration if you will,” You sit down on your bed and signal him to come sit next to you, “Shu, I want you to… uhm…” You suddenly start to get shy, you decide that you don’t have enough power to say it and instead make lewd hand gestures instead. He understood almost immediately and started to get flustered as well.

“Woah, hey I knew that fan fiction was a little weird like that but I didn’t know you did THAT. But if you really want to I guess then I have no choice,” Shu started to help you undress, “This is gonna be awkward.”

“Don’t think about it in that way, I’ll tell you what to do, kay?” You stand up to go close the door and make sure that your room isn’t visible from the outside, you then pull out a lubricant out from under you bed, you ready yourself onto the bed as you hand him the lube, “Do your worst.”

He sighs as he pulls it out and he pins you down softly, “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” You smile at him,

He puts it in slowly and starts thrusting,

“You don’t have to start slowly like that, I told you I’m ready!” You whine,

“W-Well I’m not as ready as you are! This feels… This just feels weird knowing that you’re gonna use it as reference,”

“I told you not to think about it!”

“Are you trying to make me mad or something?”

“Perhaps, even if I do you’d probably go soft either away,” You smirk and stick your tongue at him, he starts going harder and you start to raise your legs up so that they’re hugging his waist.

“You seriously know how to rile me up and that’s crazy, just- ah- Tell me if it hurts too bad,” He groans quietly and he keeps pushing,

“Hey hey! L-let’s try this,” You forcibly get off of his dick, which makes Shu whine, and turn around, “This’ll feel a lot better for me~ Let’s go, Shu!~” He gets back up and starts to pound, this time making sure he hits all those spots he knows so well about,

“Ah! Sh-Shu! Augh, don’t st-OP!” You moan out, “Mmphf- F-Feel free to use your sorcery too!” Shu still continues to go hard, but after awhile of choked out sobs from you, you could tell that his pace was getting slower, “Huh? What? Tired already? You never stop this fast, did something happen?” You look back at him to see him concentrating on casting a spell while also trying to please you,

“Shut up, just like- ah- Wait a second…” He makes motions with his arms to try and summon something, you blush at the fact that he’s trying so hard for you and turn your head back around and burry it into your bedsheets.

Only a few seconds later you saw a bright light in the corner of your eye as Shu’s pace starts to go back to what it once was, “Huh? Shu, did you summon something- What the… How is that supposed to…”

“Let’s see…” Shu pulled out and swapped with his formed toy which was noticeably larger than his, he turned you back around, “You see this right? Can I put it in?” You nod your head and brace yourself for what would come next.

He lubes the magical toy and slides it in, which made you twitch from the surprise coldness of the toy and how much it stretched you, “You better not complain about how my hole doesn’t feel like it used to, got it?”

“You know I would never,” You leans in the kiss you and makes his way in front of you and makes you get on all fours, with a snap of his fingers the toy starts to move on it’s own. That toy went deep into you, but it was at a slow pace, there were stings of pain when it got too deep and you started to wince, Shu made sure to make it so that he toy wouldn’t go too deep the next few times, “Okay, this helps right? Something for you to write, just think about it as two people at once!”

“Mmm, what… Are you tired or something? You just gonna watch? It’s like your getting cucked!” You laugh as you hold back your moans while looking him in the eyes, he lifts you up with his sorcery to make it so that you’re on all fours.

“No, no, not just yet… Just enjoying your pretty body,” He chuckles as he holds your face with his hand, “C’mon you can suck now!” He smiles as he puts his dick in front of your mouth. You start to suckle and kiss it, he knew you weren’t that good with your mouth so at this point he’s just teasing you.

The toy’s speed picked up the pace as he looked down at you and started playing with your hair and enjoyed his view. You start to feel your high come, and decided that you would be a good partner and try your best to get Shu on his high as well. You decide to step out of your comfort zone and try and take it all in. Which caught Shu off guard. You choke out a sob, but try your best to make it as pleasurable for him.

“He- Hey, [name] you don’t have t-to-augh,” Shu tries to stop you but you were determined to make him feel just as good as his summoned toy was, “I- I know that i-it hurts, really you don’t need to- Ah~” Shu moans, “P-please, I’m- I’m close- Nothings gonna s-stop you is it? Can- can I cum in your mouth?” You give him a slight nod and a mmm noise.

You pull back your head making it so Shu cums on your tongue instead of your throat, meanwhile you still ride your high from the toy.

“Shu, geth me a naphkin” You say as you keep your mouth open as the toy kept getting deeper, but this time there wasn’t any pain, only pleasure. Shu comes back quickly with toilet paper for you to spit his cum in while he adjusts it so that your grabbing onto him for dear life. He starts to kiss you as you finish on the toy, with a snap of his fingers the toy stopped moving. You gasped as he released you from the kiss. Shu slowly takes out the toy as you let out one last moan, Shu leaves the room to get a towel to get both of you guys cleaned up. Meanwhile you get over to your computer and bend over while opening up a writing app, you gasp and hurry towards your notes… that you forgot to write in.

“UGH!” You whine,

“Woah, [name], are you okay?” Shu popped his head back in the room,

“I forgot to write notes… I’ll just have to write what I remember right now…” You jump back on your bed and start writing, Shu sighs and sits next to you as he wraps a towel around you as he drinks his water.

~

You so has you drop the papers you have and looked up to Shu

“So… Are you done now?” Shu asks,

“Do you want to go for round two? This time we need to take breaks so I can write things down!”

“Fine… I feel like I’m getting used.”

“No! You’re getting payed in pleasure! We can shower together after, love you!” You peck his cheek and push him down,

“I love you too.” Shu sighs, blushing slightly as he covers his eyes with his hand.

The end!

Reminder that this is all a. delusion and not real in any way shape or form, this is about the characters they play and not the people behind them!!

While I was writing this a found a bunch of ants in my room! wish me luck 😭

Requests are still open, I might start making them as slots soon and close them up, so give me your ideas while you still can!

-Yours truly, 💟

#luxiem x reader #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji x reader #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino smut #vtuber x reader #aliusworld

[ornii]

Arcane Chapter 2

Some Mysteries should stay, Mysteries

"Remind me why we bother with this dump." Mylo says, the group of kids are underground in the Lanes in a quiet abandoned arcade, Vi is taking her chances with the punching machine, (Y/n) and Powder were under the counter of a sharpshooter machine trying to work on the wires, he grabs a pair, slowly bringing them together as small zaps of electricity flow. Powder hands him some tape and be works his magic, wrapping up the wires and then reworking a lot of the old mechanisms. He turns to powder, showing her.

"Make sure you coat the wires, any loose could shock you, add primers and a trigger for the boards too. I still gotta work on the Dak-Man machine." He points and continues to teach powder the mechanics that he knows, hopefully she can use it in the future. He comes from under the counter and dusts himself off, while powder continues to experiment with the controls, (Y/n) walks over to the wall, to lean against it and watch Vi. Her movements were flawless, her eyes focused on the mark of the machines, dodging its piston punches and landing swift but heavy shots of her own, sweat beads down her face with each dash, duck and dodge. For a moment she looks over to (Y/n), who has his arms crossed and he's watching her movements, for a moment their eyes lock and the world around Vi sort of fades away, and only (Y/n) remains. Vi felt her arms gain weight, her legs turn to stone. Her avoidance was awarded with a jab to the face by the Machine. She stumbles back and sees (Y/n) who chuckles and shakes his head at Vi.

"Vander said to lay low." Vi says, "Enforcers never come down here, so this is as good a place as any." Claggor turns to Mylo who's still trying to use the shooting range.

"Oh, what's the matter, Mylo? You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?" He says as Mylo Loads up a toy gun with plastic balls.

"Hey, if she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing." He says, and Powder randomly appears from under the counter, with what seems to be wires, she jams them together and green lights bellow from the machine and the targets flow and turn on. (Y/n) gives powder a thumbs up.

"Well lookie here, told ya you can do it Munchkin." He says proudly, Vi removes her gloves and sits down to rest.

"You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?" She says, and Mylo laughs.

"Are you kidding? That was the best job we've ever done. Maybe just don't take Powder next time." He says, as he shoots the targets, he misses most and can only get one point shot, Powder frowns and takes another gun and aims, shooting and hitting every critical point with flawlessness, after thoroughly washing Mylo, she dropped the Gun and walked off to (Y/n), pouting. (Y/n) kneels down and gives her a thumbs up, they do a small fist bump, the two hear clamoring and fighting outside, (Y/n) and Powder turn to the window to hear yelling.

"Tell me where I can find them." A voice says, and another replies."Topsider business ain't my concern." It claps back.

(Y/n) and Powder peer into a crack in the window to see a few enforcers interrogating citizens of the Lanes. "It's every one of you trencher's concern now." Another enforcer says. "Give me a name." And the Man simply spits on the shoe of the enforcer. Powder slowly backs off and (Y/n)'s eyes go wide.

"Hey, guys? You should see this..." Powder says, before (Y/n) grabs her, yanking her back before the Lanes citizen was hurled through the glass, almost hitting powder in the process. The Enforcers look into the created hole and see the kids, what seems to be the leader them, closes the book and motions for the others.

"Search them." He says, and the enforcers approach the children.

"Go ahead, idiots. We've got nothing." Mylo says confidently, (Y/n) and powder are side by side as an enforcer steps up to them, (Y/n) quickly puts Powder behind him. He steps up to the menacing enforcer, he quickly looks over to Vi, who motions to Claggor. He flips a switch and the lights go out, and a monkey symbol was on the ground. (Y/n) cocks back, the pistons and gears switch into high mode and he cleans the clock of the Enforcer, knocking his helmet off and the enforcer out. He grabs powder and runs, everyone bolts.

"Go! Go!" (Y/n) yells. They blast through the back door and rush down an alleyway, they halt as another pair of enforcers are down the alley with another citizen, they drop them and approach, closed on both sides the group look around for an exit, until a ladder comes crashing down, they look up to Ekko. (Y/n) grabs powder, lifting her up first as Next is Claggor and Mylo. Then Vi and (Y/n) as they barely escape the grasp of the enforcers, the enforcers begin to climb too. (Y/n) sees an enforcer aim a gun and fire, time slows down and (Y/n) reaches his arm out.

And Grabs the bullet.

The enforcer stares in shock as (Y/n) smirks and kicks the ladder, causing it to collapse and fall. He drops the bullet down as it clanks on the ground.

"You need to hide those crystals." Vi says to powder,

"Yeah, no shit." She says back, (Y/n) turns, listening to it, barely. The group walk off and head back to the bar, entering from the back door, they peer in to the main area, listening to argument as Vander has a group of members from the Lanes there.

"We should hit them back. We've got the numbers to beat them." A woman says, tall, burly and absolutely fit.

"Yeah. Let's teach them what it means to mess with us." One says, Vander lights up a smoke and looks around.

"You sure that's what you want? We crossed that bridge once before, and we all know how that ended." He looks around.

"You're just protecting your kids." Says the man who got hurled through the window.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together." Vander says, everyone looks a bit unconvinced and look around. The woman shrugs.

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight." She says, Vander takes a step forward, getting close to her.

"Do I look afraid?" He says, staring keenly into her eyes.

"No. You look weak." She fires back, and whistles for others to follow as she leaves the establishment.

"Why isn't he doing anything?" Claggor says, Powder folds her arms.

"We kicked the Enforcers' butts

with just the four of us." She says, Mylo pipes up.

"Uh, it was five.." Mylo says, powder turns to him.

"Oh, sorry.. we kicked the enforcers' butts with just the four of us and Mylo." She says, and Mylo makes a face reminiscent of a certain water tribe member.

"I can still fight!" He yells.

"Imagine what the whole of the Lanes could do." She says as the others head downstairs, (Y/n) sighs and turns to Ekko, who looks wary. He raises an eyebrow and leans in.

"Ekko?" Is there something you want to tell me?" He asks, As Powder and Vi peer their heads in.

"Um...Oh, okay. Well, um, Vander's got a deal

with the Enforcers." He says, spilling the proverbial beans.

"...What deal?" (Y/n) asks. Ekko looks even more worried.

"Cmon.. Tell me what Dad said." (Y/n) leans in closer, Peering into Ekko's soul, or at least that's what Ekko thinks.

"He has a deal with the enforcers, to keep them out of the Lanes as long as we stay under ground." Ekko says, (Y/n) steps back and Vi turns towards (Y/n).

"That's why he didn't want us Topside for the job, it's interfering with the "Deal." She says, (Y/n) looks more concerned and he is forced to agree.

"Let's.. let's just head downstairs, and we don't tell anyone about this." He says, and heads downstairs, Vi, Ekko and Powder follow downstairs, (Y/n) sits with Powder as she shows him her new toys. He looks at the mechanisms and peers into it.

"The weapon chamber is too much for it, maybe a lighter load would help. Maybe gunpowder would be a better trigger.." he says to himself, he sees how hype Powder is.

"I'm.. not getting you gunpowder, Your sister would kick my ass." He says and she pouts again, their talk is interrupted by a monkey chime toy, clanking it's bells. The ground recognizes the alarm. An enforcer makes his way down the stairs and opens the door to the bedroom, and opens a flashlight, the group hide on the ceiling pipes, (Y/n) next to powder seeing her weak arms slowly giving out, it seems having an arm made completely of metal helps, he holds on tightly to the pipe easily, but sees powder slipping. Before she can fall, his good arm grabs her shirt. Holding her in place as the enforcer finally leaves. (Y/n) sighs with relief and he drops down with powder. The others soon follow with Vander reaching the basement.

"Are you all okay?" He says.

"No, we're not okay. They almost saw Powder.

What if they took her?" Vi says, growing more sick of the treatment.

"No one is taking any of you. I'm Never gonna let that happen." He says back to her, and Vi grabs her knuckles.

"It's already happening. You heard him, they won't stop, We need to fight back. And if you won't, I will." Vi says, ready to fight, (Y/n) looks at his father, the worry in his eyes, (Y/n) walks over to Vi.

"Hey... I gotta show you something.." he says. vi looks confused and is ready to argue.

"Cmon... please." He says, Vi looks a Vander and back to (Y/n), but relents.

Near topside. There's a small group of candles and memories of the last time The Lanes attempted to battle Piltover. (Y/n) and Vi, both with hoods on to cover their faces.

"Why are we here?" She says, aggrieved.

"After listening to the deal dad has, I think I understand—" (Y/n) begins but Vi cuts him off.

"What I don't understand is how Vander can work with them. We were here. We saw what they did. I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it." She says, (Y/n) nods, "I can tell, powder trusts you, she cares about you, don't you want to fight for a better life for her." Vi says, and (Y/n) looks down, he nods and turns to focus on Vi.

"I knew that feeling.. Vi, dad led The Lanes across this bridge, thinking things could change. And they did... your Parents died.. mom got Killed..All for a better future..I know you wanna topsiders for what they've done to us, but at what cost? Let's say you do get to serve the topsides what they owe, what if it comes at the cost of lives? Mylo? Claggor? Powder? Me?" Would you be willing to go that far if it means one of us had to die for you to get there?" He says sadly, and approaches vi. He takes her hands, feeling the calluses forming on her knuckles and palms, but looking into her eyes he saw a tough caring girl who loves her family.

"Vi, Id spend the rest of my live in this hell hole. As long as it's with all of you, I wouldn't risk any of you even for the most perfect future, because it's not perfect without you." He says, VI's eyes glistened as she looked up into his, and all her worries faded away.

"What are we gonna do?" she says, and he looks down. "The Enforcers will come back."

"I'll figure it out... I am the strategist after all.. I'll come up with something. I promise... it's our future Vi, the future belongs to those who believe in their dreams." he says. And hugs Vi, tightly, she immediately gives just as much, hugging him tighter than he expected. They let go and look at each other, the tension slowly rises and they begin to creep closer, but Vi stops, and she looks up to him.

"Cmon..we should get back, there's something I habe to get." She says, (Y/n) nods and they, a bit awkwardly leave together. They return to the Bar and downstairs to the others, Claggor and Mylo look over.

"(Y/n), Vi, where you been?" Claggor says.

"Sucking each other's face probably." Mylo says with a hint of jealousy.

"Rumor is the Lanes are gonna fight." Claggor adds in, (Y/n) walks over and sits with the boys as Vi walks over to powder, who is toying with new explosives.

"Look, I made them for the Enforcers.

These are smoke bombs, and those two are full of nails. They're gonna work this time, I know it." She says confidently, "(Y/n)'s been showing me how the monkey bomb could work, I know it will." She says happily, Vi nods.

"Me too...You know, Powder, what makes you different makes you strong. Always remember that, okay?" She says, and gives powder a toy, Vi's old toy (Y/n), couldn't get which ended up breaking his arm. She pats powder on the head, before leaving. As she does, (Y/n) looks up, and see a somber look in VI's eyes as she leaves, a few minutes pass and he gets this, feeling.. he gets up and heads upstairs, and sees powder sitting sadly by herself. Drinking from a cutely colored cup. (Y/n) looks around, and he doesn't see Vi.

"Dad, where's Vi?" He asks, Vander looks around as music begins to play.

"She isn't with you?" He says and (Y/n) shakes his head, Vander looks down in the cabinet, and sees the signal Grayson gave to him, was gone. Vander immediately looks up at (Y/n). Who grows in worry, he walks past the Bar and to the outside.

"Cmon (Y/n).. we have to go.. Now.."

#netflix #arcane #jin x reader #vi x y/n #vi x reader #male reader #league of legends #vi x Male Reader #jinx x male reader #Caitlyn x Male Reader #caitlyn x Reader #jinx and vi

[caeliatus]

It’s not the first time Vi’s bitten off more than she can chew, and it’s certainly not the last. It was her penchant, her thing, her reckless behavior, as Vander would call it.

It’d been Deckard who blocked the alley she was going through, wanting trouble in the same way Vi sometimes went looking for it. He was the one to shift a foot back into a fighting stance. It was Vi who threw the first punch, rolled around his sloppy counter, and kneed him in the crotch. 

She could’ve easily kicked his ass. The issue was when there were seven more behind him that rushed her all at once. Seven proved viciously difficult to counter and dodge and throw all at once, and  the issue resolved itself with her curled up into fetal position on the ground as the dust settled, with bloodied knuckles and several shiners all over her body, with blood spattered onto the ground. 

She’s looked far better. Felt far better. Her ribs are tight and tender and aching beneath the rough cloth of her shirt, and each draw of breath brings with it sharp tendrils of pain shooting up her side. Her nose is definitely crooked and her cheek is swollen up so badly it pushes her left eye closed. There’s a hot, nervous energy buzzing in her chest that leaves her jittery and unsteady, like she’s been spun around and then pushed into a new environment. She can almost feel Vander’s disapproval in her mind—not for losing the fight, he couldn’t possibly blame her for succumbing to seven idiots throwing themselves at her, but he could and would for picking it in the first place. 

I didn’t pick it , I just got the first punch in, is what Vi would say, just like all the other arguments she’s had with him over the same thing. And he’d put his hands on his hips and raise his eyebrows with that look, the one that says you better not be giving me this bullshit right now.

He’s not wrong—Vi would say the same thing to Powder if she got into a scuffle—but she’s personally never been one to turn belly up at the first sign of challenge. That’s how you survive in the Lanes. Shoot first, don’t look back. 

She ends up dragging herself topside and its shiny expansive landscape, feeling terrifically vulnerable and exposed and in search of a drug store. She’s got her hood pulled over her head, stands straight even though all her body wants to do is curl in on itself and cry, and nobody really gives her a second glance. They’re all too self-absorbed in their own conversation to notice the blood on her face and clothes that, if looked at from really far away, could be passed as an avant-garde fashion choice. 

It’s a last-resort move, a kind of last cookie at the bottom of the jar type decision. Vi doesn’t want Powder to see her like this. The last time she caught Vi in the bathroom after a bad scuffle, breathing sharply as she cleaned her cuts with disinfectant, blood-tinged water splashed against the sink and walls, she had nightmares for the following week. And Vi doesn’t want to have Vander worry about her, not when she knows he gets gray hairs whenever he does (which is, unfortunately, a lot of the time). And, yeah, it would be nice to not have to sit through another lecture talking about her reckless behavior and doing stupid things and kids these days want to fight the entire world. So she drags herself over the fence in one of the back cobblestone alleys—that action itself brings a fresh new assortment of pains to her body, nearly brings her to tears—and eases the unlocked back door of the drug store open before slipping inside.

It’s mostly empty, to both Vi’s annoyance and relief. Not too many people to see her. Not enough to hide within. The only other person here aside from the cashier is a young girl, about her age, with long blue hair that’s brushed so straight Vi suspects it must be glued that way, except it flows and moves with her motions. Blue-haired girl is browsing through the medicine section, close to the cashier, and so Vi walks to the other side of the store—not quite far enough to be hidden, but enough to make do with the displays between her and the cashier to be innocuous enough while she very intently browses through the makeup catalogue. The smell of the aisle alone is almost enough to make Vi retch.

Wow… these all look the same…

Who the fuck can afford this shit?!

The fluorescent overhead lights throw her injuries into sharp relief, which she sees in her reflection against the glass display case. Seeing them makes grimace, but they don’t hurt as much as they look like they should. Almost like she’s staring at someone else, someone with far worse injuries. 

“…hand wraps?” Vi overhears Miss Blue-hair saying. She keeps her head down but tilts her head to hear better over the dull pounding of blood in her head. As the cashier response, Vi peeks to make sure he’s truly engrossed in the conversation—he looks a little more than engrossed, if Vi’s being honest, cheeks tinged with red as he fumbles with his words—before deftly making her way to the medicine aisle and shoveling anything that looked expensive into her pockets. 

Gauze, bandages, cleaning agents. A few fancy-looking items that look of good use. She snags a small stapler on the way to the bathroom, turns one last time to check she’s gone unseen, but of course that’s the same moment the blue-haired girl’s eyes flick over to her, of course it’s just as Vi steps into the light, where her injuries are visible. 

It’s just for a moment,  spun out into an eternity—the other girl’s eyes widen, just for a fraction of a second, so quick and subtle that Vi almost doesn’t catch it as the air turns over between them. Her stomach squirms uncomfortably in the spotlight, it’s like she’s been pinned in place to be examined, and she watches, helpless, as the girl’s eyes travel slowly up and down her body, taking in all the cuts and scrapes and bruises. Their gazes meet once more, and her gaze is simultaneously horrified and suspicious and curious in that trademark topside manner, and Vi’s only reponse is to turn away, slip soundlessly into the bathrooms. She overhears the girl cutting off the cashier, saying,  sorry, can you say that again?

She’s got some time. Not a lot, but some, maybe enough to clean up a bare minimum amount to not look like the walking dead. She pours all her supplies out into the sink. Grabs the cleaning alcohol and grits her teeth as she starts to pour it over her wounds. It stings fiercly and shit, there’s so much she has to get and so little time to do it in. Her breathing comes in tight, fast wheezes as she goes as fast as she can, blood mixing into the alcohol and spilling over onto the bandages. There’s one particularly painful cut on her forehead that jerks an agonized groan free from the back of her throat, another one on her elbow that has her nearly bent double over the sink. But she holds herself steady, keeps working, smooth, go smooth, smooth is fast, even as fluid dribbles down onto her clothes. But then she hears the door swinging open and can’t quite hide herself away in time and—

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Vi says, stomach plummeting to her feet, sides screaming from the effort of shooting upright. “I’m fine. Just got some paint on me. That’s all.” She angles herself away, toward the opposite wall. 

“Don’t be prude,” the blue-haired girl says, the way she nearly huffs reminding Vi of Vander. “I can see you bleeding where you stand.”

“I said I’m fine. Buzz off,” Vi says, louder, still thin and shaky and not at all the rough voice she wants to use. She clears her throat and presses her lips down into a hard line, glares at the wall to make up for it. The adrenaline rush is fading fast. She realizes her hands are colored red and wipes them on her jacket.

Meanwhile the girl’s saying, “Don’t be ridiculous. And stop trying to hide yourself, turn around.” 

Vi would quite like to be left alone. She would quite like to manhandle this girl back into the store and plant her firmly in front of the cashier and say cheerily, sorry for interrupting your conversation! Please continue!, before flipping the both of them off and stomping out. Her day’s been shitty and her luck has always been shitty, and whichever entity up there holding the reigns to her fate was doing an excellent job of giving her the misfortune of every single little inconveniencing coincidence—and if they could ideally give her a single break, a day of reprieve, it would be really nice if that day was today.

But of course (not). 

She allots herself a second to fume at this thought, and not too long after that something inside her gives up and rolls over. Something close to a fuck it flits through her brain. 

When Vi turns around, revealing the full extent of her brutal beating, the girl sucks in a sharp breath, worry flashing across her face as she takes stock of the bleeding and purpled skin. “Oh… what happened—?”

Her eyes are bright blue and Vi finds herself scrutinizing their depths. “Uhh… I fell?”

“You fell into what? A grizzly bear den?” 

“Yep.”

The girl regards Vi for a second with raised eyebrows. She’s got a searching look on her face, one Vi does her best to yield no quarter to, but after a moment she seems to come to a decision and starts moving toward Vi. 

Instinctually, Vi backs away, angling to fight, and the girl stops. “I’m just helping,” she says neutrally. 

Vi says unsteadily,“I don’t need help.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Vi mutters. She lets her approach, watchful, careful for any sudden movement. Her heart leaps into her throat as a cleaning wipe is picked up from the sink and dabbed in alcohol. Her intrinsic urge to do something is silenced by their gaze, the openness in the other’s eyes. She doesn’t notice the cloth touching the cut on her arm until the sharp sting registers—she tenses up, drawing a tight breath, and cloth withdraws ever so slightly. 

“Easy. Try to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Vi grits out, white knuckles curled into fists.

She gets a sigh in response. The cloth returns, gentler this time, and the sting, too, is somewhat dulled, as if it’d been dialed down. Vi lets her slowly work up both arms in steady, almost comforting silence. She glances down at the girl and sees her eyes narrowed with focus, breath just barely washing against Vi’s skin and sending shivers up her spine. 

The cloth pauses. “Sorry.”

“It’s—fine.” Vi flexes her shoulders. The antsy feeling there lingers. “Don’t worry about it.”

The cloth resumes. Vi finds the pain’s tolerable now, more of a background sensation. Out of curiosity, she asks, “What’s your name?”

“Caitlyn.”

Vi repeats it in a murmured hush, rolling the word around in her mouth. Then she asks, because she’s never been able to hold her mouth shut when she really should without exploding, “Why are you doing this?” in a similar manner to a criminal suddenly finding themselves invited to dinner with the police captain. 

Caitlyn shrugs. Then she says, with an air of causality impossible for their context, “You looked like you could use a little help. How’d you get these?”

Vi repeats her previous bullshit lie. 

She’s not in any sort of way ready when Caitlyn says, “It was a fight, wasn’t it? A few people, by the looks of it.”

Vi’s breath hitches. Just barely, but enough. Caitlyn never stops cleaning, sharp eyes focused on the skin so intently Vi thinks it might split open under her gaze, but she hums with a grim satisfaction and says, “So it was a fight—what were you fighting over?”

“None of your business.”

“Mmph. Sorry.” The cloth is cleaned and replaced. “I know I can ask too many questions sometimes. You won’t be the first person to tell me that.” It’s genuine, the way she says it—she’s truly sorry but not ashamed of it. 

Vi doesn’t really know what to say to that. A weird mixture of shame and embarrassment wash over her and she stifles the impulse to apologize, instead letting the silence drape over them like a heavy blanket as she casts about for something to say, something to look at other than Caitlyn. It’s not until Caitlyn finishes on her arms and moves to begin cleaning her face that she blurts out, “I’m from the undercity,” feeling oddly embarrassed at the sheer relief she feels when Caitlyn pauses an inch away from her cheek. 

Caitlyn’s eyes sharpen on hers. “Oh,” she says, simply, and resumes cleaning. 

A beat passes. 

 Nothing changes. Caitlyn doesn’t recoil like Vi thought she would, doesn’t look at her any different in the seconds following it. The cloth continues just as gentle and delicate. Caitlyn’s brows crease with focus as she dabbles away at a particular nasty scrape. Her breath tickles skin, sending cascades of shimmering electric currents racing across Vi’s body. It freezes her into place, anchors her to the ground. 

“You don’t… mind?” Vi ventures cautiously. 

“Of course not. Why should I?” Caitlyn’s gaze drops to hers, her voice with it. “Should I?”

“Yeah. I stole all this stuff.”

Caitlyn’s eyes crinkle at the edges when she smiles. “I could tell. I’ll pay for it, if you want.”

“What?”

“I mean, if you can’t, I’ll pay for it. Doesn’t make sense to deny you medical supplies or care just because you can’t afford it.”

“Who says I can’t afford it?” Vi says, scowling. 

Caitlyn says, gently, “If you could afford it, then why did you lurk in the makeup section until no one was looking and then grab” —she looks at the contents in the sink— “Dental floss and flee to the bathroom?”

Vi chews on her lip and fumes silently over the fact that her grand plan was so easily seen through by this girl. 

“The cashier doesn’t know, if that’s what your wondering. Besides,” continues Caitlyn, “I like doing things to help people. Do a little good in the world. There’s enough hatred and negativity going around as is, especially between Piltover and the Lanes. So I do what I can. It’s the little things that matter.”

“Yeah, well, things between us have always looked this way,” Vi says.

“Don’t be so down. There are good people out here from both sides with good hearts. Do you think they deserve to be in the middle of all this conflict?”

“No,” Vi says, picturing Vander and his gauntlets. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

“Maybe not. But it’s certainly worth something to try.”

Vi bites back her retort. She’s not trying to actively be an ass. Instead she makes a somewhat neutrally strangled grunt, obeys when Cailtyn’s cool fingers gently ease her head to the side. She watches as the corner of Caitlyn’s mouth turns downward into a deep frown. “You might need stitches on this one,” she says. “It looks decently deep.”

As far as Vi can tell, she’s not actively bleeding from it. “Nah,” she says, waving Caitlyn off, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“It needs to heal properly,” Caitlyn presses. “At the very least you’ll get a very nasty-looking scar.”

“Maybe I like scars.”

“But—“

“Cait.” Vi catches her hand, eases it down from her face. “I’m serious. You don’t have to. You’ve already done plenty… and—thank you.” Her thumb, on its own accord, begins a slow, sweeping motion across the back of Caitlyn’s knuckles. She can feel the air getting sucked out of the room, the moment turning over into something raw. 

Caitlyn’s mouth thins into a line as she gives Vi a long, searching gaze. Her eyes flick back up to the cut before she sighs, looking away, and begrudgingly saying, “Well, if you insist. I would still recommend getting checked out by a doctor. If you’d like I can—“

“It’s fine. I… feel bad. I don’t have any way to pay you back,” Vi admits. 

Caitlyn’s hand still hasn’t moved from within hers. It’s like touching a live wire, hot and cold all at once, eliciting a delicious buzzing sensation under the skin. 

“Don’t be silly. This is free. You don’t have to pay me back.”

“No, I‘ll pay you back. Somehow…” Something swells up in Vi’s chest and catches in her throat, aching and needy, wanting. She tugs experimentally, carefully, and Caitlyn follows, shuffling forward until Vi’s arm wraps around her waist and settles against the small of her back.. 

Caitlyn stops. Her face is only a few inches away from Vi’s face, eyes wide, expression pliant, and Vi burns at the point of contact, something ravenous has awoken in the pit of her stomach and she wants to let it consume her in a brilliant flame. “Would this work?” She breathes, voice raw, heavy, and Caitlyn’s breath hitches as her lips part just a fraction of an inch.

Vi can count every single freckle on Caitlyn’s face. She can trace every line, every contour and curve, every inch of skin that she wants to explore. She can dip her head and kiss the exposed collarbone there, or lean forward and meet Caitlyn’s lips, kiss her breathless and bruised. She leans forward slightly, not quite the full distance, and she nearly snaps from the restrained urge to close the gap. 

And then Caitlyn swallows hard and says, “Yeah,” all high and breathy in a way that sets off small explosions in Vi’s stomach, and leans in to meet her halfway. 

She tastes sweet on Vi’s lips and kisses her gently, like she’d fall apart if she pressed harder. Her lips are warm and fit perfectly, and she deepens the kiss until Vi’s back hits the wall, her hands reaching out to steady her. Vi’s skin is on fire and she feels like she could explode, she could take on Deckard and his crew a hundred thousand times if it meant she could do this again. Instead she reels herself in, angles her head to gently catch Caitlyn’s lower lip between her teeth for a moment to murmur, “Cupcake,” taking great pleasure in the way Caitlyn whines in response before reaching up to cup her face and pulling her in again to take her next breath with a searing kiss. 

“Lipgloss?” Vi asks breathlessly when they break apart again. She can see Caitlyn’s lips swollen and bruised, her own throbbing with the rush of heat and blood and animal instinct. 

Caitlyn nods, face flushed, her eyes burning into Vi. 

Someone knocks on the door.

Vi curses.

“Is everything alright in there?” The cashier calls. 

Caitlyn jumps back as if shocked. The sudden space between them leaves Vi off-kilter, the memory of Caitlyn's lips still imprinted against hers, unsteady but aware enough to understand what would happen if the cashier walked in and saw a sink full of items he didn’t ring up—if the enforcers showed up. 

And then—I just kissed a topsider.

Caitlyn yells back yes, we’re fine, please don’t come in, but when she turns around, Vi’s vanished into thin air; the only thing left in her wake is some dental floss in the sink and a high-up window hanging ajar, still swinging back and forth as if someone had just passed through it.

#arcane #caitvi #piltover's finest #caitlyn kiramman

[undercity-merc]

cont. @jynxd

Her fist made contact, and although she didn't have all of the nerve endings that used to enrich her fists from years of deadening the damn things, as punching concrete often did, she could feel how dense this beast was. The shock reverberated down her forearm and she barely budged the creature. She had a feeling this was going to go poorly in her favor. As soon as her strike rang true, the liquid in the tank boiled and surged, suddenly boiling into a strange orange that bathed her in its hue in the dark alley. The claws ripped back, ready to strike as Vi tries to duck-- but she hit the wall, as the strike never came. Instead, she felt something far more dangerous strike into her. A voice, of all things, that she hadn't heard in a lifetime. It was primal, perverted, but it sounded an awful lot like something she heard the day her life fell apart. Take care of Powder. She suddenly choked. Was this a hallucination? No, no, it's been so long since I've had Shimmer last. I shouldn't be withdrawing, it should be over--

But it was no hallucination. The monster backpedaled a step, and then two, it's massive hands clutching at its wolfish visage. Her hands suddenly shook like they hadn't in years. It was strike after strike to her vulnerable heart, her eyes almost shifting from cold steel to pale blue in the shimmering orange light as the shape of her eyes changed. Are you real? It was familiar, another fatal strike delivered and the beast hadn't even raised a claw to her.

"Va--Vander?" Violet whispered, as if her consciousness was about to be robbed away from her. Her trembling gaze flickered down to her fists; what had she done? Why did she just keep hurting her family?

No, no. This isn't right. What the hell is going on here? "What-- what the fuck happened to you? You can speak? Why-- Why do you sound like him." It was a blink of an eye as her tone shifted from vulnerable to anguished; then, to pure rage. "No. No. You're not allowed to sound like him. This is some sick fucking joke. There's only one fucking Hound now." Her hands came back up, but the brawler was no longer calculated. She was angry, reckless-- furious like she hadn't been in so many years. She didn't even lift her guard. She blindly charged the beast who dared to sound like a man she saw as her father.

#ic #contract: wild hunt #jynxd

[hoonieswhore]

VI. One of the Drunks

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Word count: 1,2k.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, usual bickering, cursing, kinda suggestive, mentions of perv!Hoon

Friday night was good for everyone, especially for the Untitled band since they always played in a local bar. Today was a special day because Heeseung's childhood friend went to see them. In the backstage, the band was preparing the instruments and equipment while asking their guitarist about his friend. “We basically grew up together and then we parted ways, like everyone does, but we're still in contact and we always tell eachother everything.” Heeseung replied as he was tuning his guitar. The younger members nodded before Jake asked again, “BUT HE'S LIKE A STAR, you think he might want to be friends with us?” The Aussie boy smiled brightly as he played with his drumstick. “Sure, he's pretty cool,” Heeseung made a small pause as he took a quick glance at their vocalist, “well, I don't know if he'd be friends with everyone in this room… Especially if they looked at him like they were about to stab him on every fucking meal.” YN let out a sigh, looking at Heeseung through the mirror in front of her as she continued fixing her hair. “I didn't do that.”

The girl tried to defend herself but Jay interrupted her, “Do you even know him or he just gives you bad vibes?” YN rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed since it was the 10th time that the boys asked her if she knew the figure skater. “This is the last time I'll say it: I DO know him, I want him thirty miles away from me cause I can't stand him, end of the fucking conversation.” She said, grabbing her mic and turning around to face the boys, “Now I want you guys to shut up and hurry up with the last details, we only have two minutes before the show starts.” The boys nodded, grabbing their stuff and walking out of the room towards the stage.

Sunghoon was sitting alone on the table, he was already on his second drink when the show started. He took his time admiring every member doing their thing and he recognised they were very good at it, no doubt they had a contract with the bar and a good time to perform. The figure skater also noticed how the band already had a good public since people were enjoying the show and others were screaming their names. Yn's voice was better than he remembered and she definitely knew what she was doing on stage.

After three songs, Sunghoon found himself mesmerized by her, he wanted to look at the rest of the band but he couldn't take his eyes off of the pretty vocalist, especially when she was wearing such a hot outfit. The boy wanted to punch himself when he noticed that she was looking right into his eyes as she sang a pretty suggestive song, but that wasn't the only problem. The other problem was that his own body was betraying him and pumping all the blood in his veins to a specific part of his body and that made him feel like a teenager. The boy looked away quickly and chugged the rest of his glass, hoping that the alcohol would help with his growing bulge.

After forty-five minutes, the show was done, everyone was cheering and clapping as the band left the stage. Sunghoon was now slightly drunk but his plan worked since he was no longer hard. Heeseung and his friends approached the table, Heeseung and Jay sat next to each other in front of the model while Jake pushed Yn to sit next to Sunghoon before sitting next to her. Now Sunghoon was squished against the wall next to him as YN was trying to sit comfortably but that was getting impossible with the two boys manspreading. The girl sighed and punched her friend's leg as she said "Close your legs a bit, Jake, there's literally no space." The drummer rubbed his leg as he dramatically hissed "YN that hurts!" Everyone in the table laughed as they called Jake a drama king and shook their heads. Before they could continue with their bickering, Sunghoon started speaking, "Guys, that was SO amazing, you're really good! I thought you guys couldn't sing though, your voices are really good!" The boys smiled at him and thanked him before they kept talking about random things.

Two hours passed between drinks and laughs, despite the fact that Yn and Sunghoon couldn't be around each other, they realized that it wasn't that bad. Not until Sunghoon pulled his phone out of his pocket, grazing her thigh from how close they were and noticing how she slightly shivered because of his cold fingers. The older girl looked at him briefly before she kept talking with the rest of the guys. That light touch made Sunghoon look down for a bit and consequently, he ended up taking a glimpse of YN's cleavage. The boy unlocked his phone and started tweeting his feelings. He needed to talk about it somehow, especially when he felt that he was getting slightly hard again.

“Hoon? Everything okay?” He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice that his friend was calling his name for at least one minute. “Huh? Yeah!” he smiled at him and nodded, “I was just spacing out haha, what were you guys talking about?” Sunghoon locked his phone and left it on the table as he paid attention to his new friends again. “Well, we wanted to play rock-paper-scissors to see who's getting more drinks, wanna play?” Jay explained as he took his hand to the middle of the table, followed by the rest of the band, including Sunghoon. They played until Heeseung and Jake were too drunk, leaving the tipsy ones to decide that it was time to go home.

Sunghoon and Jay helped Heeseung to walk through the parking lot, the older one didn't drink too much but he was a lightweight. YN and Jake were walking two meters behind them, both of them laughing at Jake's drunk state. “Hey darling, new guy has a crush on you~” Jake giggled, slightly pushing her in a teasing way, the girl held onto his arm since she felt like she was going to fall. “You idiot! Don't push me like that, I wasn't ready!” she laughed, trying to push her friend back, “and what you mean he has a crush on me?” She took a quick glance at the three boys in front of them, focusing on the youngest. “Girl?? You gotta be kidding me, he's been staring at you the whole night,” he started, “please, he even stared at your ass when you got up to get more drinks and let me tell you that it was SO obvious. I'm kinda surprised that you didn't jump on him, he seems like your type.” Yn punched his arm, annoyed by Jake's words, he was right but she would never admit it. “Jake, what the fuck? How would I like a pervert like him? You're drunk bro.” She shook her head as she frowned. “Please… you can't play dumb with me and you know that, plus he tweeted some interesting stuff~” Jake cooed before jogging to the boys, opening the door of Jay's car as the others helped Heeseung to sit in the car.

YN stared at them, still confused at Jake's words as she started to get flashbacks from her last time with the model…

Taglist: @donghoonie-3 @venusssmoon @moonlighthoon (if you want to be added, send an ask<3)

#enhypen sunghoon smau #park sunghoon smau #sunghoon smau #park sunghoon au #sunghoon au #enhypen sunghoon au #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #//heavenly//

[flowerflamestars]

I completly did not think about the Spring Court!!! Now I am just thinking about the sentries, who were loyal to Tamlin, yes, but to Lucien first, because he was sane and there and active and one of them (in a way). I do not want the Spring Court to fall, but I also really want the sentries to see Lucien Archeron alive and be like "actually? Yes, yes I WILL pledge my life to my long-time friend and his scary new family."

Could Lucien and Elain ever take over the Spring Court? It's such a hard decision. With Nesta ruling over the Archeron lands and if the Illyrians decide to stay and with the wall gone, we could have a huge human-fairy court (because I know Elain and Lucien and Nesta would either have no divide or a very loosely controlled one).

But on the other hand there is the Summer Court, to which Lucien is heir. Does he want it? He, who has never wanted to be a ruler, but who is so good at it, possible heir to so many courts? What connection does Lucien have to the Summer Court except that a man there impregnated his mother and the result was Lucien. Why would he go there when he could be part of the Archeron lands, or rule the Spring Court, or help Eris with Autumn and work to put good things out in the world?

Perhaps the real question is, where does Elain want to go? Because I think it would not matter to Lucien if every single person from Spring, Autumn and Summer would pledge their loyalty to him - if Elain wishes to stay with Nesta in the Archeron lands, then nothing in the world could make him move.

That IS the big question of the story! What happens when Lucien gets to be himself? What happens when Elain and Nesta have choices? How far will the three of them go to protect that?

One of my favorite Lucien Things is that he doesn't have that ego so SO many acotar characters are afflicted with. There's this stable center at the core of Lucien, despite everything that has happened to him. The Autumn crown is sitting on Elain's head, and no part of him is howling about denied birthright. His processing vis a vis the Day Court has two notes he'll really engage with- this, this, is why he was always a little wrong. This is somewhere his mother will finally be safe.

He doesn't want the crown. He kind of wants to punch Helion in the face. There is a part of him that's just...heartbroken about Day. That's not fixable. It's centuries too late to save the child Lucien was, and even now, Lucien loves Autumn.

Lucien, to himself, thinks he's a little selfish. His entire desire for power has only ever been personal: he wants to protect the people he loves. He want to take care of the people. He has a pretty serious sense of right and wrong, and has spent most his life in much more minor roles than he should have, mostly to try to help.

(these are, of course. All things that are GOOD, but Lucien is uh, working on it, we'll say. The Archeron's are hellishly good for a man's self esteem if it works out.)

Lucien wants to stay.

With Elain. With Nesta. With these people, who have never made him choose which parts of himself matter.

In some ways, one of the biggest hurts of the coming conflict is not the loss of land SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS, but people, and PERSONALLY (SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS) what feels like the loss of the long-term ability to keep that little family they built together.

They would have been happy. They didn't need more. Lucien liked taking care of the Archeron vassals, playing up a love story that was actually entirely true. He and Elain would have gotten married, sealed the safety of all their positions. Both sisters would have been happy, allowed to do what they were good at, their birthright, forever.

Destiny keeps saying otherwise, Prythian just keeps pulling.

There's some outlying stuff I've overwritten- canon only sometimes likes to acknowledge that Prythian is coming out a half century of hostile occupation and basically, has to be, at least a little in chaotic shambles.

There's Lucien, unable to forget the people in Spring, but also less inclined to seek vengeance for himself than say, Elain. (and her new friend, the deranged shadowman with the magic knife, genuinely considering killing his own High Lord). There's Sorcha, whose fully absconded from her husband. There's the abject mystery of where the hell the Archeron's magic actually comes from. There's Cassian, unsubtly yelling to anyone who will listen this scary hot amazing lady WILL BE A GREAT FEUDAL LORD, FEALTY WELCOME

The only certainty is that Lucien isn't letting go, this time.

#Nothing in the world will make him move! #the stakes just keep getting upped and there is a part of each of them #that's just like: we were supposed to be stressed about a WEDDING THIS WEEK #we were going to be semi immoral profiteers! #WE DID NOT ASK FOR THIS SHIT #you're half right but also the person who IS dragging people in like: here have a mixed court with these cool ladies #sigh #IS CASSIAN #Spring isn't in sharp focus but it is going to right itself eventually #Lucien is tied to all these Courts and he's about to use it #to be the hero he was lowkey born to be #wartime contributions round up really is: Lucien getting all the lords together #Nesta: A DRAGON #Elain: Autumn monsters #and the three of them genuinely debating if they should just kill Hybern and be done. or if it'll just make the war worse

[kittyt-hexxed]

A Thin Line

Sevika x Vi

Part One | Part Two

Word Count: 1048 (Short and sweet cause it popped into my brain.)

Warnings: Dom!Sevika, Brat!Vi, Hate sex, fighting, making out, lip biting, strap-on, semi-public sex, fighting kink, bruises, hickies, lipstick marks, suppressed feelings, light degradation

Summary: What do they say? There’s a thin line between love and hate? Well, Vi and Sevika walk a thin line.

Vi didn’t know how she got in this position. Her fingers twisted in the silky strands of Sevika’s hair while the other one was clutching onto her muscular bicep. Gasping moans were being torn from Vi’s lips as Sevika aggressively thrust into her, the older woman’s teeth biting into the skin at her collarbone. They had just been in the middle of a fight, throwing punches and slamming each other into things. Sevika had choke-slammed her for Janna’s sake! But now? Now, the spike of pleasure shooting up her spine from Sevika’s thrusts was the only thing she could think about.

She hated this woman. She hated her with a passion, so why was she letting her do this? The anger was still there, bubbling under her skin as she tried to understand why Sevika betrayed her. She was the strongest woman in Zaun without being a Baron. Vi looked up to her and even asked her for advice at one point. They had an understanding. An understanding that went to shit all those years ago. And Vi was snarling out insults once again, throwing them at her with nothing but venom.

“I hate you.” Vi hisses out between moans, painfully tightening her grip on the woman’s hair, “You’re a fucking traitor!” Sevika looks up at her, lipstick smudged with some blood mixed in and eyes dark with emotions. She couldn’t even bother trying to make them out except for the anger.

“Then why are you moaning my name like one of Babette’s whores?” Sevika growls, making heat flair through Vi, “You must not hate me that much.” That response shouldn’t have irritated her as much as it did. Why was she moaning her name? She shouldn’t be! Sevika shouldn’t be fucking her in the first place! But-

“Sevika~!” Vi’s voice comes out as a whine and not the firm tone she planned. It was a breathy plea that her own body betrayed her with. Right? She didn’t want this. She wasn’t into the way Sevika had tossed her around, lifting her body from the ground like it was nothing. It made her angry to be grabbed by her throat and slammed into the wall. The burning she was feeling right now was rage not… lust. No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be… but it was.

“What, you brat?” Sevika locks eyes with her. It was lust. A deep need curling in her abdomen that Sevika had put there. And wow, were her eyes always that shade of grey? Deep pools of a liquid metal that caught her attention and kept it. When had the Shimmer worn off? How long had she been in this position? And why did Sevika calling her a brat make her heart race?

“D-Don’t-!” A loud moan leaves Vi’s lips as a particular thrust has her seeing stars, “-Stop!” She was fucked. Literally and figuratively. She liked this. She liked that this woman was stronger than her, holding her to the wall like nothing. When was the last time Vi had someone who could actually match her? Someone who made her feel weaker for once?

“Are you begging me to keep going?” Sevika arches a brow, a cocky smirk on her face, “Is that what you want?” How were her thrusts not faltering? They were fast and punishing, knocking the breath out of her like a punch to the diaphragm.

“Yes, you asshole!” Vi tries to glare at her for the cocky attitude, but she can't keep it. A low chuckle reverberates against her chest, radiating from the woman pressed against her. Vi thighs felt sticky, the fabric of her briefs doing nothing to stop her slick as the strap was pistoned in and out of her. She didn’t even want to process the sounds cutting through the quiet.

“Not such a brat now, huh?” Sevika says mockingly, “Not when you’re being fucked so good.” Vi couldn’t even respond to that, because it was true. She hadn’t been strapped down before, limited to her hands and tongue with the other women in Stillwater. But this was a different kind of pleasure and her body agrees with how close she was to her orgasm. That familiar pressure in her abdomen had her squeezing Sevika’s hips between her legs.

“P-Please- Aahh, I- Sevika!” Vi couldn’t form any words, stammering while overwhelmed with the pleasure. Sevika’s lips were on hers out of nowhere. Plump and soft and Vi almost felt bad for biting her the first time they kissed. Almost. Suddenly the pressure bursts and Vi moans out Sevika’s name, the back of her head hitting the wall as she recklessly tosses it back. She didn’t care though. The pain was nothing. Nothing compared to the floaty state her mind was in as her orgasm forces her to pull Sevika ever so closer.

“That’s it.” Vi hears Sevika mutter, thrusts slowing down, “That’s a good girl, Vi.” She’s rubbing soothing circles into her hips.

There’s a moment for the two of them to catch their breaths. Vi’s mind slowly starts to unfog and both women seem to realize the situation at the same time. Sevika hurriedly pulls out and lets Vi go who curses and scrambles to put her pants back on. Some biting words are exchanged, along with insults and accusations about the other. Vi gets her pants buckled back up and Sevika puts her cloak back on, still hissing insults at each other.

“Don’t ever let me see you again!” Vi snarls, speed walking out of the alcove without a glance back. ‘I can’t believe I did that! What was that?! What was I thinking?!’ She glares at the ground in front of her, jamming her hands into her jacket pockets. ‘How could I just go and get fucked by Sevika?! That- That brute!’ The wetness of her briefs didn’t do anything to help her aggravation about the situation.

“Vi!” That makes Vi freeze and she facepalms, letting out a groan as she realizes who it is. ‘I forgot.’

“Vi!” Heels sound from her left side, making Vi turn and see Caitlyn running towards her, “Why’d you run off like that?” She asks, coming to a stop.

“I-” Vi feels her stomach drop, “I was supposed to get information about my SISTER! FUCK!” She screams in aggravation, throwing her hands up. She’d have to go back. She had to. Sevika was the only one with the information she needed.

#vi x sevika #vi arcane #sevika arcane #arcane smut #vi smut #sevika smut #sapphic enemies #hate sex

[f1shbonez]

❛ no one's here. we can be as loud as we want.❜ (Ekko)

Things hadn’t been going too badly. 

At least, that was the impression Jinx was starting to get from the way her world was changing around her. The Firelight leash had gotten a little more slack over the past few weeks. Hoverboard lessons, a fixed place on the rota, hell, they’d even invited her along to one of their stupid game nights. Not that she cared, or anything. So what, if the voices of cheering and competitive play were somehow less abrasive when she was a part of it. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. 

The more interesting development came with Ekko. Hard-won moments of respite were seemingly easier to win these days. No more awkward dinners in her prison-room where nobody knew what to say. No more bashing someone in the face just to remind him that she existed. Sure, Ekko was just as busy as ever (being Bug-King made it that way), but more than ever it felt like he had carved out a little more time to do more than chastise his troublesome guest. Prisoner? Guest? Jinx still wasn’t entirely sure. 

Was Ekko?

Ekko’s hoverboard lessons weren’t the only thing that had taken them outside the winding tunnels of the Firelight base. Playing nice, it seemed, brought new opportunities to light- ones that even Jinx found herself unwilling to risk losing. Every now and then, a trip on a hoverboard would lead them somewhere private- away from all the buzz and hum of the stupid Firelights. Sure, the Zaun grey was thicker out here than it was in Ekko’s little corner of sunshine, but for Jinx, it felt as though she could finally breathe. 

It was easier to talk when your company didn’t have his mob waiting (and eavesdropping) outside. They were equals out here… in a way. That had to mean something. Ekko never would have started the little ritual if he didn’t at least trust her a little, right? 

What was even weirder, was that he had agreed to let Jinx select today’s hangout spot. Sure, there had been a few perfunctory rules to adhere to: not too far from the base, not in enemy territory, something else she’d already forgotten…blah blah blah. She could handle that! Totally. 

A wall of glass, shattered long-ago, opened its toothed maw onto the street. She’d been here before, countless times, Powder too. Even under Silco’s reign, the deserted building had been a favourite haunt. Nobody came here anymore. The memory of the brutality in the streets, the empty husks of surrounding buildings, the intermittent flooding…nobody had a reason to. Well, unless their name was Jinx. 

Pale fingers trailed an absent, faintly reverent touch through the dust of the guardrail that surrounded a series of pads and targets. Above, the scoreboard loomed, awash with Vi’s name, save for Claggor, still at the very bottom and ‘POW’ sitting second from the top. It was bittersweet. She couldn’t beat Vi’s old score even now, but even if she did, what good would it do? It wasn’t like Vi was around anymore to see or feel the punches or kicks. Besides, one more high score would knock Claggor’s name clean off the board. Forever. Jinx wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Abruptly, Jinx forced her gaze to gloss over it, stuffing the way the names made her feel somewhere deep down. 

Even now, years later, the crude images of Mylo’s face remained where Powder had etched them a lifetime ago. Jinx paused, taking a moment to drink in the sight. The slightest quirk tugged at the corners of her lips. Funny. Had Mylo always looked like a monster? If Powder’s drawings were anything to go by, maybe the answer was yes. 

A dissatisfied growl babbled behind Jinx’s ear. Swatting at it, she spun on her heels, gesturing to the crumbling shell of the arcade for Ekko. 

“Ta-da!” 

Pretty cool, right? 

Or, well, it would be. In a sec. Once she got the whole place working again. 

Blue eyes searched Ekko’s face for some shred of reward. Was he impressed? He recognised the gravity of this, right? This was HER space! Jinx’s! She didn’t have to share it with anyone, but she was sharing it with him. Just like the days he was so darn sappy about. There was so much to do here, they could stay here all night! This totally trumped all of Ekko’s other dumb hangout spots. 

“Betcha wish you’d let me choose sooner, huh?” Jinx teased, swinging her arms as she skipped over to a battered looking fuse box. Juuuuuust as she’d left it! It didn’t take long before the click of power came, followed by a flood of multi-coloured fluorescent lights from all corners. Arcade units beeped to life, followed by the loud bell of the boxing set-up, and more importantly, the music. A broad grin settled on Jinx’s lips at the noise.

“No one's here. We can be as loud as we want.”

Great.

Taking Ekko’s words as further permission, Jinx cranked up the volume. 

Did Ekko know that he got 90% more fun whenever he left the base?

Well, at least he was onboard. Heh. Like she’d have listened anyway! Where to start first? Bouncing on the balls of her feet to the music, Jinx hopped over to the shooting range, waving a tattooed arm for Ekko to follow. Oooooh she was the BEST at this game! There was no way Ekko could beat her. Only, the targets weren’t moving. Pouting, Jinx jumped over the barrier, looking for the trusty cable she’d connected countless times. The floorboards were slick with the residue of floodwater, eating into the mechanical gears- the part that made the whole game interesting. Oh. It was hard to hide the disappointment brewing on her face. This wasn’t exactly a ‘plug it in and you’re good to go’ situation. No fair! 

Talk about spoiling the grand reveal! Maybe she should have snuck out before this stupid trip to get everything ready. It was too late now. For a moment, Jinx’s brow furrowed before an idea that was just stupid enough made her smile again. From behind the shooting range, Jinx stood amongst the stationary sea of dummies, smirking. 

“Wanna play target practice?”

#arcane rp #muse: jinx! #firelight au