#it is *such* a good place for rats. and EVERY TIME.

[arolesbianism]

Man oni can't do this to me I'm supposed to be preparing for artfight but all I can think abt is Them™ from the second I wake up to the moment I go to bed how am I supposed to prepare in these circumstances 😔

[bisaster-energy]

okay what you have to understand is that while against the kitchen floor is a dean song...willard! has cas written all over it

[ann-beth]

Hate monsoons. Every single time without fail i have a rat infestation in my room and my room only. Fucking hell.

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[haoboutyou]

gym crush | choi seungcheol

fluff | 1151 words | suggestive descriptions. i’m y/n’s just really thirsty

an: please take this as a formal invitation. requests are open! (whether i answer on time is another problem)

you don’t like the gym. absolutely not. it gets super hot and humid inside, it stinks of sweat, and the big machines always intimidate you.

what to do? you’re just a girl.

you usually wouldn’t even phantom the idea of stepping foot into the gym if it wasn’t for your best friend. really, the only reason why you’re even sitting in one right now was because you arrived too early for your meet up with him.

that’s how you ended up perched on a high stool, legs swinging as you patiently look around while soonyoung finishes up his last few sets of… pull-ups? you’re honestly not sure. how he’s still chatting with you while completing his sets – barely panting through it, too – is beyond you.

“so i was thinking,” soonyoung casually starts, lifting himself like he was made of paper. “we can get dinner at the new italian place downtown? i heard they’re having a opening promotion right now.”

“mmh, sounds good.” your eyes are flitting all around the gym, trying to find something interesting enough to catch your attention.

“right, i almost forgot! seokmin texted earlier; he said he’ll drive by to pick us up later too.”

“really? that’s great.” you sound enthusiastic but your hunched posture informs soonyoung otherwise. at this point, your best friend can tell that you’ve tuned out of the conversation. he huffs at the way your eyes zone into the far corner of the gym, where the weight benches are. soonyoung scoffs more when he realises your eyes are trained on a very specific person, watching intently at the way the muscles on his arms bulge every time he lifts a dumbbell.

“yeah, he also said he saw mingyu running into a tree earlier… even said a rat fell on him and started pulling at his hair and controlling him like a robot. do you think the rat would make a better chef than mingyu?”

“wow really? that’s great.” your replies get progressively monotonous as you keep your eyes trained at the corner. yeah, now he definitely knows your mind has completely left the conversation.

your breath hitched as you watched the mystery man run a hand through his faded red hair, baggy t-shirt sleeves hitched up to reveal more of his biceps? triceps? never have you ever wished you paid more attention to your biology lessons back in high school.

everything about this mystery man has you swooning. the thick veins on his hands running up his arms, the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration, how the sweat glistening on his forehead seemed to cast a heavenly glow all around him. you can’t forget the grunts he lets out with every movement, entrancing you with his deep voice. gosh, even his hands are perfect. an angel has descended to soothe all your gym-related problems, converting you into a devout worshipper of his physique.

you’ve never been more thankful for soonyoung’s suggestion to wait in the gym.

soonyoung’s arms may be burning from hanging on the pull-up bar for too long, but he just couldn’t believe his eyes; your mouth is hanging open and– wait, is that drool?! is his best friend really drooling over a man in the gym?!? a laugh of disbelief escapes him as he finishes the last of his rep. soonyoung mutters a quick prayer of thanks to god for gifting him prime blackmailing material. he drops back to the ground and swiftly snaps a picture of you, in all your thirsting glory, before he picks up the rest of his stuff.

“y/n,” he calls out. “i’m gonna hit the showers and then we can go. you good staying here on your own for a bit?”

“yeah, yeah! i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.” you wave him off, not even bothering to turn towards your best friend. soonyoung lets out another tut as he turns towards the gym’s locker room. that is, before a brilliant idea comes into mind.

“hyung!”

the red-haired man turns towards soonyoung’s voice. “hoshi, you’re going already?”

your best friend nods his head, grinning at how your eyes seemed to pop out at the way he was casually talking to your new-found eye candy. “are you doing anything tonight? i’m meeting seokmin and the others for dinner later, wanna join?”

“kwon soonyoung!” you whisper-hiss. “what the hell are you doing? you guys know each other!?” is that blush creeping up your neck he sees? the tips of your ears tinge so pink soonyoung thinks he can almost feel the heat radiating from them.

“thanks, but i’ve already got plans.” the mystery stranger shoots you a gentle smile, flirty (flirty?!) wink (WINK?!?) towards you. still, you can’t hide your disappointment; you would’ve loved to get to know this new-found work of art more.. “maybe next time? you can properly introduce me to your pretty friend then too.”

soonyoung thinks he heard a strangled cry from you, coughing as you somehow manage to choke on your own saliva. he chuckles at your suffering. “sure, hyung. i think she’d like that too!”

soonyoung doesn’t know what to expect when he finally emerges from the locker room cleaned and refreshed, but it definitely wasn’t you raining attacks on his sore arms and shoulders. seungcheol (he had introduced himself to you while soonyoung was gone– in fact, the two of you managed a whole conversation while he was gone (no, you were so shy and embarrassed you were barely able to keep eye contact with him)) waves at the both of you as you leave the gym to wait for seokmin to arrive.

you’re convinced the blush on your cheeks is going to be a permanent feature of tonight. it doesn’t help that it becomes the main topic during dinner with seokmin and mingyu, the other two boys cracking up at soonyoung’s dramatic retelling of your new-found gym crush.

(it also doesn’t help that you had a balled up fist under the table all night, hiding the hastily written phone number on a piece of paper that seungcheol had managed to slip to you while you were leaving, mouthing the words ‘call me!’ behind soonyoung’s back.)

-

bonus!

“remember when you couldn’t keep your eyes off me when we first met?” seungcheol swings his arm around you, broad shoulders almost engulfing you whole.

you groan, choosing instead to bury your head into your boyfriend’s chest. soonyoung cackles from across the booth. you have to physically restrain yourself from clawing him alive.

“hyung it wasn’t just that; she was drooling over you!” he wiggles his eyebrows, ignoring the daggers you were staring his way. blush makes its way up your cheeks, dusting them pink.

seungcheol laughs, planting a kiss on the crown of your head.

“if it makes you feel better,” he whispers in your ear. “you were my gym crush too.”

soonyoung almost falls off his seat laughing when you blush even harder.

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent years perfecting my splits. After about two months, I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

[zephyrchama]

A New Game

It must get boring playing the same mundane games, like rock-paper-scissors, for millennia. The Obey Me cast would probably jump at the opportunity to try something new. Something introduced from the human world. (This fic is not explicit in nature but repeatedly uses a word some people consider naughty.)

---

You received a message from Lucifer.

"My brothers are studying in the library. I have to step out for a while, will you supervise them until my return?"

The RAD library was busier than usual with students rushing to cram before the next big exam. The usually serene room had demons occupying every nook. Some sat on the floor with their back to a bookcase, some perched on the ladders leading up the shelves, and few were lucky to have a table seat.

Six of the seven brothers sat around one such coveted table. Lesser demons shied away from approaching them and even the more powerful students felt uneasy walking by. You were the only one with both guts and permission to approach.

The atmosphere was strange. They looked focused and were completely silent, so you greeted them with a wave and slid into the last open chair. Must have been Lucifer's. You leaned forward against the table edge and took a peak at Satan's advanced curse notes.

Things were too still. It felt wrong. At a glance they appeared to be studying, surrounded by book stacks and messy note sheets, but the brothers stared blankly at the material in front of them them without actually interacting with it. Something was up.

Leviathan made a barely perceptible sound. You looked at him, but brushed it off as your imagination when you realized he hadn't moved. It could have been someone nearby turning the page of a book.

At least they were all behaving. You couldn't force them to study, you were just there to supervise. You took a moment to enjoy the rare sight of the grand library being full. It was weirdly inspiring. A minute later you saw Mammon's lips twitch. He definitely said something under his breath.

"What?" you whispered, leaning his way.

Mammon dismissed you with a wave of his hand, shaking his head. You gave him a confused look.

Another mumble came from the opposite direction. You swung your head towards Asmodeus but he was fixated on a blank potion worksheet. He didn't so much as flinch when you narrowed your eyes suspiciously and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Ok. What's going on?" you asked. If this was a new way to study, it sucked.

Beelzebub coughed. It was so obviously fake. The way he covered his mouth made it hard to discern what he said.

"Lucifer's not here, you know. You guys can tell me." Would you rat them out if they were doing something malicious? That remained to be seen.

Feeling that someone was going to try again, you abandoned any hope of studying and focused all your senses towards the brothers. Who would be next to move?

It was both Satan and Belphegor. Being across from each other, you couldn't pay attention to them both and missed what they each said. They broke the stillness to make eye contact with each other and clenched their jaws in frustration.

Asmodeus took advantage of the moment to act next. The boys were getting a little louder each time, and this time you could almost make out what was said.

"...nis." Leviathan briefly shrunk behind a stack of books to say his piece.

Realization began dawning on you.

Beelzebub pretended to clear his throat. You were ready this time, and caught the word clear as day. "Penis."

By goodness, they were playing the human game you told them about. The Penis Game.

"What are the stakes? What are you playing for?" You had to know. They were doing this in the school's library, of all places? The brothers eyed each other with distrust.

"Winner gets to have you sit in their lap when Lucifer gets back," Leviathan explained, throwing a quick "penis" onto the end of his sentence.

You wondered if Lucifer would even allow that while Mammon said "penis," plain as day. A passing gaggle of students looked over.

Up on the second floor, a random demon stumbled and almost fell off a ladder, sending the books they carried crashing to the ground. Satan took advantage of the noise to say "penis" in a louder-than-average tone. The stakes were rising.

You were supposed to be supervising these guys, to make sure they studied properly to pass their exams. You should have put a stop this game. But it was funny and you were too curious how it'd unfold.

Belphegor shut his eyes. After a few deep breaths, he snorted a noise that resembled the word.

"That doesn't count," Asmodeus pouted. "It wasn't clear enough. Penis."

Belphegor furrowed his brow and cracked an eye open. "What? Yes it does. I said penis, didn't I?"

Satan clicked his tongue. "That's debateable. Penis."

The table was now speaking rather loudly and attracting stares from every direction. Nobody would dare shush the rulers of the Devildom without a death wish, but they could observe them in silence.

"I-I don't know how much longer I can do this... P-penis." Leviathan was at his limit. He didn't like the stares. Maybe if you had told them this was the "anime game" he would have stood a chance.

"What? We're just saying penis." Asmodeus had no reservations at all.

"Penis." While Mammon called out, students noticeably began trickling out of the library.

"Maybe we should wrap this up, you guys are disturbing everyone," you gingerly suggested.

"That's not fair, penis. Are you saying you want to sit in Mammon's lap?" Belphegor scowled.

Beelzebub, newly determined to beat his older brother and spurred on by his twin, bellowed "penis."

The yelling caused more students to pack up their belongings and scurry out. You cringed a bit. All remaining eyes in the library were on your table. "No! I'm not favoring anyone, but this is getting out of hand."

"Penis! They're just jealous! Come over here, I'll take good care of you." Mammon patted his thigh.

"Absolutely not! Mammon, get away from them! Penis!" Asmodeus shouted and grabbed your shoulder. Uh oh.

The physical altercation began. Satan growled, "don't touch them," and shoved Asmodeus into Leviathan's textbook stack. "Penis."

"H-hey! Watch it! Ugh, penis!" Leviathan scrambled to avoid Asmodeus' fist.

"Wow, Satan! Rude! What if I got scratched? Penis!" Asmodeus lurched at Satan, who ducked and sent the former crashing into Beelzebub.

Beelzebub didn't really care, but he still wanted to win. "Penis."

"Yeah, penis. You said it Beel." You didn't really get what he meant, but Belphegor was upset in his twin's place.

"I'm winnin' this thing! Penis!" Mammon nearly toppled the table over.

Everyone was straining to shout as loud as they could, a rowdy chorus of "penis" chants. You watched the insanity of the scene unfold in front of you, hoping demon forms would not get involved.

Something made you shudder. An ice cold, low rumble of a voice from the library entrance that cut through all the arguing and screams.

Lucifer had returned. "You're not studying."

He was followed by Lord Diavolo and Barbatos who both remained quiet, letting Lucifer deal with his family.

"You disrupt our meeting for this?" Lucifer's eyes could have had flames in them. A black mist emanated from his shoulders. He was furious. "Do you know how many complaints we received? Half the student body showed up, knocking at our door."

Diavolo was beside himself trying to maintain composure befitting a royal. He wanted nothing more than to laugh. Lucifer was not going to hear the end of this incident.

Barbatos had a cold smile plastered to his face and a hand on his chest, implying that one wrong move would result in unfathomable punishment.

The brothers shifted uncomfortably back into their chairs, dragging textbooks towards them and guiltily sticking their noses back into piles of notes. They didn't dare utter a single word.

"Don't think any of you are getting off scott free." Lucifer loomed over them. They could already feel the impending rope burn on their skin.

"If you wanted extra duties so badly, there are many sites on school grounds that can use improvement. You could have just asked." Barbatos was happy to take advantage of their suffering if it was beneficial for Diavolo.

Lucifer looked at you. He wasn't mad, just disappointed, which felt worse. "Don't think you're innocent, either. You were supposed to be supervising them."

You nervously averted your eyes, slumping your shoulders while picking at the corner of some notebook paper as he continued, "come with us back to the council room. You're giving us a detailed report on exactly what happened here, and what this 'penis game' malarkey is all about."

[yandere-daydreams]

Black Cat!Wanderer, who you find in an alleyway behind your apartment complex, badly bruised and barely conscious. He's poorly dressed, even for a hybrid, shivering and deathly pale, but he still finds the strength to snap at you as you approach him. You have to bribe him with fish you can't afford and a blanket nicer than anything you'd buy for yourself before he lets you so much as touch him, and even then, he's quick to growl and tell you to get away from him as soon as you try to pet him. He's a temperamental kitten, but considering the state he's in, you can't say you blame him for being so defensive.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who lets himself into your apartment after a few weeks of alleyway visits and offered meals. He doesn't scratch at your door or ask to come in. You find him splayed out on your couch when you get home, muttering that it'd been too long since the last time he saw you and scowling into a clawed-up pillow. He still comes and goes as he pleases (you wouldn't try to keep a hybrid so clearly used to being on his own contained), but he spends most of his time curled up on your bed or trailing after you around the house, still pretending he'd rather be anywhere on earth other than in your lap. He says that you're just like every other human, that he only hangs around you for the food and a warm place to sleep, but the way he purrs when you scratch at his ears says otherwise.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who doesn't just visit you at home, either. He always seemed to ""coincidentally"" be passing by your office just in time to walk you home from work, and doesn't seem to consider a quick grocery run or shopping trip to be a good enough excuse to get rid of him. You're lucky he's a cat, rather than something bigger, something more difficult to pass off whenever he follows you into a cafe or bodega. He's lucky that he's so cute, or else you might call his bluff and start treating him like the housecat he won't admit he wants to be.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who doesn't know that you know he likes to cuddle up to you while you're asleep. Most of the time, he'll wait until you go to bed properly before curling up against your side, but you've found him laid out on top of you after passing out on your tiny couch, fast asleep despite his best efforts to always scurry away before you notice he's there. You never considered yourself a catperson before you met him, but god, sometimes you feel like you could spend the rest of your life fawning over your shy little alley cat.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who's been with you long enough to be hyper-aware that there are people - humans, nonetheless - you'd rather spend time with than him. He doesn't need your attention, he doesn't need you, but he's not going to lose you to a human, either - not when you're the only person he can stand to be around.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who might just be a cat but still has teeth and claws as sharp as any predator. Following the coworker you've mentioned just a few too many times home is child's play, and it only takes a few seconds to drag his claws across their throat, to dig his teeth into their jugular and shut them up before they can scream. It's just like killing a rat, something you've praised him for a thousand times, even if he still cringes when the taste of iron hits his tongue.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who spent enough time as a stray to know the best places to put something he doesn't want anyone else to find. The body is dropped into a gutter with a loose grate, the blood washed off of his face in a relatively clean drainage canal. He's home by sunrise, and he can't control the way his chest rumbles as he slots himself against your side - happier than he's ever been before.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who'd do anything to make himself the center of your little world.

[tawfu]

Thinking about Sugar daddy!Pantalone, who escorts you by the arm in public, flashing his close-eyed smile as he shows off the fact that you chose him to the world. Is there a greater honor than that?

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who hires one of his underlings to hack into your phone just so that he can search through your texts for anything you might possibly want that you’re hesitant to ask for. Somehow, you always find yourself spoiled with everything you can think of, and in turn, you throw him a gentle smile as you jokingly ask if he can read your mind. God, that smile of yours is like a drug to him.

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who travels with you all around the world, eagerly taking you to the most luxurious spots and making sure that you don’t have to move a single finger, no matter the cost. Though he’s got plenty of rats by his feet, ready to serve him, you’ve got him under yours.

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who doesn’t hesitate to take out anyone who dares to look your way for a moment too long. Anyone who has the audacity to offer you help, whether it’s one of his servants suggesting to put your jacket on, or a strange man opening a door for you in public, is met with a death glare that later, when you, the deity beside him isn’t there to witness it, leads to their demise.

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who always offers to take care of you. Arrived home after a night out? You mustn’t waste those beautiful hands on something as miniscule and pathetic as changing. Your jacket’s already on the hanger, and he’s on his knees, slowly removing your expensive shoes. He takes a moment to admire the sight in front of him, thinking about all the times he’s been in this exact spot before.

Like when he’d look up at you, just like this, with pleading eyes, begging for you to step on his cock. It has no use, after all. He’ll give you anything you want, as long as you bless him with that disdainful look on your face when you watch how drools and squirms on the floor, trying to gain control over the way his hips jump at the feeling of your foot rubbing him.

Or when you actually allow him to cum from the stimulation, and he knows that the only place to do so is on your shoes, for the sole purpose of buying you new ones, but more than that, so he can lick them clean afterwards, like your own personal dog.

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who feels like he’s too cocky for his own good, and needs you to put him down where he belongs. Make him scrape his knees on the floor while you tug at the leash in your hand, one that’s attached to a beautiful silver collar with your initials carved on it, as you force him to crawl to you with his credit card in his mouth. Promise that you’ll only allow him to spend his money on you if he repeats that he’s nothing but a wallet to you, an utterly useless pet whose only purpose is to serve you in every way possible.

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who always gets bratty when his ass is stuffed, whether it be by a plug or your cock. He’ll purposefully ignore your commands, talk back and degrade you, resist when you attempt to restrain him, all in hopes that you’ll punish him and fulfill his masochistic desires.

Throw him on the bed, pound into him, gag him with your fingers, spank him with a paddle, torture his cock, gods, just please do whatever you want to him, as long as he’s left in a puddle of cum, drool and tears, unable to think a single coherent thought.

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who loves the strong and powerful image the two of you exude, and the fear in people’s eyes when they recognize him. Little do they know about the ropes hugging his body tightly underneath his clothes, or the vibrating butt plug that’s sitting comfortably inside him, filling him with the anticipation for the moment it’ll turn on. How about the pretty, pink cock cage that serves as a constant reminder of who the true owner of his body is? 

Sugar daddy!Pantalone who’s completely and utterly obsessed with you. No money in the world compares to your gaze. His body and soul is nothing if not yours. He would do anything, whether it be betraying his own god, or burning the world away, just to be close to you.

[orphicmeliora]

Thinking about harbouring the most atrocious crush on him.

He's the dearest friend you've had since forever and you don't remember when or how this thing started but it hits you like a ton of bricks in the middle of the night, sitting on the kitchen counter and him making whatever shitty blend of coffee he's thought of. He's never been good at that.

Your gorgeous, gorgeous man.

Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. You chant in your head but it's a fruitless endeavor. Your foolish heart always mistakes his one act of kindness, one sweet smile, his gentle assurances, and the way he focuses his undivided attention on you, for something more. For something like... Love.

He does that for everyone! You tell your heart, but the stupid thing never listens to reason does it?

He looks at you, curiosity apparent in his eyes probably wondering what the hell is going on in your head and you realize you haven't said anything in the long while you've been admiring staring at him. And so you open your mouth to say something, God, anything at all. But then—

He tilts his head, his hair swaying with the motion and falling perfectly into place like dominoes, the action so endearing you have to catch your breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and clutch the counter in a death grip lest you do something idiotic like rush into his arms and melt in his embrace.

Gods above, how you'd love to do just that.

"Are you alright?" He asks, so kind even though you're acting quite pathetic. You're acting as if it's been 9 long years apart instead of the 9 hours you hadn't seen him. His mother really raised him to be a gentleman, you think. And a heartbreaker, you add a beat later. You can only imagine how you look to him, like a deer caught in headlights, hair, a tangled mess and—oh God you're wearing your ugliest pyjamas! You just wanted to dig a hole and lie in it for eternity.

Still he looks at you so affectionately.

He moves forward, each step feels like a hammer against your heart as he moves closer to you. You gasp, wide-eyed you look around vehemently for something to stop him. You're not prepared for this. You know the proximity, his scent engulfing your senses would turn you into a bigger fool.

But you find nothing and now he's standing so close, towering over you even with the added height of the kitchen counter. He's so ridiculously tall. He's perfect. He's within reach and your hands tremble. Every bone in your body wanted to assimilate into his.

"Why won't you look at me?" He can't be this oblivious. Surely, he must have suspected something, it's not like you're being subtle.

You breathe deeply to calm down but even that comfort is stolen from you as his scent surrounds you and diffuses into your blood and messes with your brain. As if his presence alone wasn't enough.

"Have I done something wrong? Is that why you're avoiding me?" His fingers graze your chin and you have to bite back the indecent sound you almost let out. He lifts your head and you feel the self-restraint snap inside you.

"Yes!" You yell in his face. Desperate now, you wanted to hide far, far away from him. Being around him was too dangerous. He was too dangerous.

"Oh," His tone is so despondent, your heart wrenches at the thought of him being sad because of you. His hand falls from your face and you mourn the loss, the grief buried for the time being for other important emotions. "Please tell me what I did so I can fix it right away. I can't stand the thought of you being mad at me."

You wanted to cry.

Your chest feels tight and heavy and you can't breathe properly. All you know is that you have to get out of here and now. So you say the first thought in your head then turned swiftly and ran like they were rats hot on your trail.

"Stop being so attractive!"

You know your mind will never let you live it down but you think screaming into a pillow might help.

[pigcowboys]

Hello!

Could you please write a Percy x Reader and The reader just randomly goes missing?

pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader

summary: the day you go missing, percy’s world seems to crumble.

warning(s): ANGST, depictions of depression maybe?, bad coping mechanisms, cursing, kisses

a/n: THIS REQUEST IS SO SADDD :(, I tried my best though!! i left the ending ambiguous cause im a sucker for happy endings 😁‼️

part 2

it was all kind of surreal to him.

yesterday was amazing. the moment he opened his eyes he was greeted with your seemingly blinding appearance at his cabin door, smiling at him widely as you said good morning to him, instantly knocking the heavy burden of waking up so early off his shoulders.

he felt light on his feet as he followed you to the mess hall to eat breakfast. breakfast that he barely even touched because he spent most of the time there trying to provoke a laugh out of you. he felt his heart when after his 7th or 8th horrible joke you gave him a unapproving look, stifling a smile as you continued to eat your breakfast.

he didn't appreciate that smile enough, he reckoned.

the day continued on with the two of you spending the day together. could you believe it? you took him to pick strawberries with you — said you wanted to make him something since his birthday was coming up soon. his heart practically lurched when you told him that.

how could someone be so sweet..?

he’d just pull you into an embrace, peppering kisses all over your face before skipping over to the fields with you in tow. hand in hand was how you two always walked — not that percy minded one bit at all.

you looked amazing picking strawberries, so focused and calculated as you observed each berry closely to see if they were ripe enough, or if a pesky insect had gotten to them before you did. percy just watched you in awe as he held the basket still for you.

you were very meticulous in the way you picked each berry. they all had to be perfect — nothing but the best for your boyfriend, that was what you said. he beamed at that mention of himself, biting back a dopey grin as the word ‘boyfriend’ reverberated in his mind.

later into the afternoon percy would be by your side as you washed and stored every strawberry in a red container. you’re so beautiful, he thinks. not that he’d ever tell you that.. he didn’t want you to laugh at him for being corny. he couldn’t help it, though.

you’re just so perfect.

“did i ever tell you I love you?”

“rats!” you snapped your fingers, a smile curling on your face. “i totally forgot to remind you to say it today.” you joked, not breaking eye contact with the strawberries as you plucked another stem off.

“ha-ha,” percy said unamused. “you’re so mean to me, would you prefer to have a boyfriend who never appreciates you?”

you placed the last strawberry down, turning to percy with a smile. “thank you, percy, i love you too.” you replied, batting your eyelashes at him.

percy frowned, his heart rate increasing as he huffed out in frustration. “your heart’s not in it.”

“my heart’s totally in it.”

“mm, i find that hard to believe.”

“what, you want me to prove that I mean it?”

percy shrugged. “well, i mean if you’re not down..”

you shot him a look, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “there, i love you, i mean it.”

“do you?” percy raised an eyebrow at you. “my mom kisses my forehead.”

“and your boo-boos?”

“I’m leaving.” percy said, attempting to get up as you fumbled to pull him back down into his seat next to you with a laugh.

“ok! sorry! i’m sorry.”

percy gave you an unamused look, heart stilling as you leaned in once more, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as you pulled him into a gentle hug. he recognized the perfume you were wearing, something he’d bought for you on your 2nd date.

you insisted against him spending his money but, it didn’t stop him. since then you’ve worn it every single day. the sweet smelling aroma was almost burned into his brain chemistry.

he nuzzled himself into your torso, exhaling in satisfaction as the two of you sat there holding each other. and for a moment and none less, percy forgot about all his problems in the world, you always seemed to make him relax so easily.

he missed being relaxed.

percy was waken to the sound of panicked knocking on his door.

he stumbled to his feet reluctantly, groggily making his way over to the door of cabin 3. why were you making so much noise this early? you never knocked so loudly.

“y’know i prefer when you knock —” percy stopped his sentence midway. it wasn’t you on his door at all, it was annabeth. a rather.. panicked annabeth. her grey eyes were blown wide and she seemed slightly alarmed.

“annabeth, what’s wrong?” percy asked, slowly but surely regaining his consciousness.

“percy..” annabeth started, a slightly solemn tone in her voice. “we have to..talk.”

the next few minutes of that conversation with annabeth went over his head as he struck with shock and denial.

just like that, after only a few weeks — weeks that he had spent by your side almost every moment as you two counted down to his inevitable birthday.

you were just..gone.

nobody understood anything about where you’d made off to, not a trace of your clothing or even your scent. it was like you were wiped off the face of the earth and the only people who knew of your existence was everyone at camp half blood.

“you’re..you guys are going to find..” percy trailed off “you have to find them.”

annabeth gave Percy a sympathetic look. “look, percy — i don’t know if mr. D will—”

“who cares what he thinks? you have to find them, they’re just as important as anyone at this camp!” he looked away. “more, even.”

“we don’t even have a clue where they are,” annabeth rationalized. “and if Mr.D is going to handle this the same way he did when I was in this situation..” she locked eyes with percy

“then, there might be no hope.”

percy’s heart pinged when she said that, a frown tugging at his face as he brought a hand to run through his hair. annabeth just stared at him silently, pulling him into a tight embrace when his shoulders started to falter, shaking slightly as tears brimmed the corners of his eyes.

the rest of week was kind of a blur to him.

fuck, he missed you so much. and the startling fact that he wasn’t sure if the feeling was ever going to go away scared him more than anything. you were right there with him yesterday — laughing and smiling at him with.

was that really the last time he was every going to get to see you?

no — he shouldn’t of even thought about that. you’re not dead, just missing. right? you have to be. he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even get a wink of sleep all the days you were away. how the hell could anyone sleep with their own peer — strangely going missing.

he threw himself into training, wasn’t even sure why. he just..needed a distraction — at-least until he could go out and try to track you down. and when he did find you and bring you, he’d be strong enough to protect you.

it seemed like everything reminded you of him. that stupid strawberry field, your cabin which was now slightly less colorful without you around and most of all, anything vaguely sweet scent. if you closed his eyes and focused slightly he could smell the faint smell of that same godforsaken perfume you’d worn to its limits.

god, he wished he could smell that scent again.

he woken up from a nightmare — a strange one, of you. the standard dream of him seeing your silhouette in the distance and him running towards it time after time again without any fail like he always did before breaking through the ground and waking up.

yet, this time, you spoke to him.

your voice, it but a mere fleeting whisper in his ear as the dream continued, spouting things about the place you were in and how you were scared. percy could barely make out you what you were saying but all he could register was the clear sound of your voice saying “i love you”.

he was completely still in his bed as he clutched his heart, blinking away tears that he hadn’t know had formed in his eyes and he tried to control his breathing, recalling the nightmare — or maybe dream, was more like it, that he’d just had.

he looked towards the door of cabin 3, bottom lip trembling slightly.

you were alive.

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[miss-dollette]

Makarov • Baby Daddy Headcanons

While Makarov is a psychopathic maniac without a care for anyone, he'd definitely never abandon his own. This man values loyalty above anything and will never forsake one of his own, especially his baby mama and his child.

A visit from Makarov would be rare, but when he visited, he always made sure to bring a gift for his baby, and sometimes, even for you. Nothing cheap, of course—a necklace worth thousands. See it as a reward for being an oh-so-good woman and bearing him a child.

Don't bother with work. Call in and never come back. Makarov has you covered for the rest of your life. He'd move you away from the dingy city and have you cozy with your baby in a house you'd never be able to pay off on your own. But you wouldn't need to worry about that - Makarov made sure to pay in cash to whatever sketchy realtor he knew would never reveal your location. If they did... let's just say they'd never sell another house again.

The new addition to the Makarov family would love their father. They'd cry all day in your arms, never stopping until their father's rough cheek scratched against their own, and he shushed them in his rough Russian manner.

The first time you handed over the tiny Makarov to their father would become a bittersweet memory.

"Make sure his/her neck is supported," you softly said while passing the baby into Makarov's arms, mindful of the delicate strength his/her little neck had yet to develop.

"Perfect," you said as Makarov gently held the baby in his arms, his neck crooked down as he watched his baby's eyelids flutter, their little pink cheeks, and tufts of hair on top their head. The baby tiny fist lifted into air, and Makarov placed his lips upon their tiny knuckles.

You leaned in and placed your lips on Vladimirs rough cheek.

He'd definitely pretend he wasn't obsessed with his newborn baby's scent. You'd walk into the nursery, and he'd shoot up from the crib and act like his nose wasn't all up in his baby's scalp.

He'd be fiercely protective of his family. No one, not even his closest allies, would know. Maybe Yuri, but he'd only tell him long after you gave birth.

If he had a son, he'd definitely plan to raise him in a macho-man way. Your son's fifth birthday gift would be a Russian prison knife from the Gulag. And no, he wouldn't care if you made a fuss about it being dangerous for a child.

"Now, why the hell would you give him that? What were you thinking?"

"He's nearly a grown man, and every grown man needs a knife."

"He's five!"

"I was gifted a rifle when I was five, so be grateful!"

Now, if he had a daughter, that would be a whole 'nother story. She would definitely be his little tsarina. All she would need to do is ask, and she'd have it in her little palm.

"She'll become a spoiled little brat if you keep spoiling her like that,"

"What, like you?"

"Not funny."

"Seems funny to me. Come, My Little Tsarina, let's go pick out one of your future cars."

He grew up poor and constantly surrounded by critters sneaking around in his home. He'd bring home stray cats to make sure no rats or mice would go near his baby.

Will sometimes sleep over. You'd both sleep in the same bed, and his razor-sharp training from when he was a soldier would come to good use. Any noise your baby made would wake him instantly.

He's paranoid as hell, so be ready for him to patrol the house multiple times a day. Your baby will grow up thinking it's normal for his father to have an automatic assault rifle in hand, walking around with murder in his eyes, ready to blow apart whoever dared target his family.

The baby would giggle every time their father passed by, and you'd watch boredly as he walked past. It got boring after the first ten times.

If there ever was a break in, God bless the idiot who did so. Not even his bones would be found.

Other than that, he's a cutie patootie when it comes to his baby. But like, a scary cutie patootie.

[bluesidez]

A little nsfw Gym Rat Miguel drabble to make myself feel better. It can be placed somewhere in the future of Sophomore year.

content warning: breast play, fingering, cum eating, Miguel being in love with reader and her body per usual, 18+ so MNDI

If Miguel had the time to caress you every day, he would. He really felt that it was necessary as he watched you pull your shirt off your body.

The AC in his dorm room was broken, and his skinny fan and the Arctic freeze cooler he just bought were the only things bringing in some type of cool air.

You couldn’t take the heat too much, body warming up under his palms.

He promised you it was ok to leave, but you insisted on staying by his side.

Miguel watched you in awe as you sat on the edge of his bed, body leaning towards the cool air with your eyes closed.

You weren’t completely sweating, but your skin was dewey and inviting.

Miguel moved from his headboard towards you, lifting your hair to let your neck breathe.

“Thank you,” you sigh.

Miguel watched the curve of your neck to the pretty hills of your back all the way down to the shorts covering the part of you that sat on him before you moved for air.

He’s cold now because of your absence.

Miguel scooches closer, the bed protesting as he slides in behind you again. He felt that enough time had passed between cuddling and cooling down.

He lets your hair go and you lean back on his chest, your head lolling to the side on his shoulder.

Your chest moves with your slow breaths and Miguel’s hands grip around your middle like a lifeline.

He kneads your skin, breath hitting your temple, “Want me to take off your bra?”

A pause enters the room. A moment of nothing to hear the doors slam in the hall or the cars pass by.

“You want to take off my bra?”

Miguel hears the skepticism in your voice and drags his hands up your front. He pulls at the straps of your bra slowly and repeatedly, watching as your chest moves at his disposal.

“I'm so glad you’re having fun while I’m dying.”

“Don’t say that,” Miguel slots his hands under the straps and pulls them off your shoulders. “I’ll cool you off.”

Miguel kisses your neck and finds a path to your back. He unclasps your bra, the ease of it a bit annoying because of the worn hooks.

“How do you plan to do that?”

Miguel pulls the cups off with care, watching as your breasts drop on top of your stomach. He shifts the bra down your arms and tosses it next to his pillow.

“With my boyfriend magic.”

He cups his fingers around you, entranced by how you fall through his fingers. He pushes them towards you and out, circling and enjoying the view.

“You’re silly.”

A hitch in your breath comes when Miguel runs his palm past your areola, fingers parting to tighten around your nipple.

His thumb and finger find the other, pulling and stretching. Your nails dig into his thighs as you sigh at his ministrations.

Miguel continues to fondle your skin, your mouth parting and your body melting into his.

“I don’t know if this is helping,” Miguel hums. “Let me try something else.”

Before you can protest the loss of him on your skin, he wraps his arms around you and scoots back towards the wall dragging you along with him.

He tugs at your shorts, hips lifting to help you get them off. You make a noise as he flings them across the room. He hushes you with a kiss to the back of your neck, fingers ghosting dangerously close to your panties.

Your left thigh stretches out with the help of his forearm looping under your knee. You gasp as the rotating fan pans across your bare skin, shuddering in Miguel's hold.

"This should feel good," Miguel whispers in your ear as he slides his right hand to your clothed clit. "Wanna focus on the part that's the hottest."

You cling to his arm as he starts to rub against the nub, a moan escaping your lips before you cover your mouth.

"Amor, you gotta let me know if it's working," Miguel pouted into your skin, one kiss to your hair. "Let me hear you."

Miguel added more pressure, moving the hand under your knee to your chest. Your voice got louder as he doubled his touch.

You stuttered out your words, worried that the walls were far too thin to be yelling out please's and more's.

Miguel shifted your weight to the middle, wanting to give your left side some love.

"You're not facing the wall. Whoever's next door will live," Miguel mumbled as he felt his fingers getting wetter and wetter. "You're more important right now, anyway."

Miguel dipped his fingers lower, groaning at the sound of you that filled the room. He spread his pointer and his middle finger over your lips and reached down with his other hand to pull your soaked underwear to the side.

He mourned the loss of not being able to see how pretty you looked down there, but he enjoyed the dazed stare you gave him as he rubbed his other hand over your parted lips.

"You like it, bunny?"

You nod your head as Miguel slides against your entrance, teasing. "Need it."

Your hips moved up towards his fingertips, whining as Miguel kept his touches light. Your hand push against the wall behind Miguel, voice getting higher.

Gorgeous.

Miguel finally sinks his fingers into you, mouth pressing against you as you let out loud breaths. His middle fingers slide in and back out slowly, arms tense against you.

"Hold your legs in place, ok? Your body needs all the air it can get."

You pushed them out but scrunched them back in, Miguel's fingers working overtime in you and on your clit. Miguel worked quick to get your legs over his and out of the way.

A cry of his name reached the ceiling as he picked up his speed, thick liquid running over his hands.

It was so much, the feeling of his thick fingers folding into you and the tips of his fingers bringing you pleasure.

Your words slur together as you tell him to keep going, the intensity building up in your body. Miguel sings praises in your ear, feeling you closing in on his fingers.

Your hips jerk once, twice, three times over before your orgasm rushes through your body. Miguel keeps going with a descrescendo to his pace.

When you're finally pooled in his lap, muscles tired, Miguel pulls out with a final slide against you.

“You cool?” Miguel asks as he pulls his fingers to his lips, humming around them.

You twitch in his arms, legs, and stomach shaking like jelly, “Not at all.”

“Hm,” Miguel thinks aloud. “I think I have one more trick. Lay down."

"Oh god."

dividers by: @adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: The trick was oral btw. I know it's going to be a while before I get back to the actual story because it is genuinely a bit tough to write it right about now. But, I had this idea of Miguel being super in love with reader's chest that turned into this. So, I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[enwoso]

request for reader struggling/acting out because of their adhd or like teen!reader always in trouble with older members of the team for something because of going along with KCCs antics and pranks

HYPER — arsenal women x reader

this has been a long time coming! but it’s finally here!! BUT i do wanna say thank you for 600 followers. i appreciate each and every single one of you that reads and interacts with my blog — forehead kisses to you all<33

masterlist

being the youngest on the team had it's benefits like you were basically everyone's honorary little sister and you always had your teammates looking out for you. however with every benefit came with a bad thing like you always had your teammates looking out for you and watching your every move.

this meant that sometimes your fun got cut short by one of the older members and the lecture would begin. it was like being back at school again and being told off for flicking a pen at someone.

it's not like you liked being in trouble it just seamed to follow you for some reason.

"are we gonna have a good session today, y/n?" kim asked her eye brows rising slightly as you both walked out to training side by side, you smiling innocently, "i always have a good session kimmy!"

you giggled rushing off, kim sighing saying her prays for the day in her head that everything would run soomthly today. although that innocent- or non so innocent smile you just flashed the captain told her everything she needed.

you running ahead to find your right hand, in the name of kyra cooney-cross. or as the rest of the squad would call her your partner in crime.

"hey kyra!" you yelled jumping onto her back, your arms wrapping tightly around her neck as the australian's knees seemed to buckle and within seconds you were both on the ground kicking at each other as you rolled along the grass in fits of giggles.

"y/n get.. off of me!" kyra got out in between laughs as you defended yourself back, "no krya you get off me!"

"girls! get up off the floor now!" the stern voice of leah williamson yelled over your giggles as her shadow covered you both. quickly breaking up knowing not to really push your luck with the blonde, although sometimes you liked to just to see how far you could push until the frown on her face became permanent.

you both mumbling a quick sorry before being called over by the coaches so that the outdoor session could actually begin. the frown on leah’s face staying in place.

the outdoor session went over quicker than you thought it would, the slight drizzle of rain making an appearance towards the end meaning your kit was slightly sticking to you but nevertheless it was lunch time, you and kyra were walking at the back of everyone else discussing you next plan of action.

“today’s been well boring! wanna cause some havoc?” you questioned a smile on your face as kyra almost immediately nodded, you never needed to ask kyra twice.

“who’s the victim?” kyra asked as you hummed, trying to rack your brain on whose buttons in a while. “oh i wouldn’t say victim, let’s just say we’re checking their alert!” you grinned.

“um well we can’t get katie cause she’ll probably hang me upside down on the ceiling, we got vic last week with the fake apple” you listed off, krya saying names quietly to you.

“steph will definitely rat us out to leah and lessi is still annoyed at us for the hot sauce so- oh i know” you were still listing off names before having a light blub moment light up in your head, a loud gasp coming from you as kyra looked on at you in confusion.

“who?”

“beth, of course!”

"right whose hid my shoe!" beth complained as she huffed, her other shoe hanging limp by her side in her hand.

the room filling with 'i don't knows' and shrugs as majority went back to getting a drink before getting ready to head into the gym for the afternoon session. beth looking around the room for her shoe, peering at kyra's side.

"kyra, where's y/n put my shoe? i won't tell kim if you just tell me where it is" beth raised an eyebrow trying to try the bribe game, the older girl knowing you both never liked to have a lecture from either kim or leah.

cause in your eyes, your weren't causing trouble. you were just giving people a little bit of entertainment.

kyra gave a small smile to beth before shrugging, beth trying again to pry and answer from the young australian but getting no where.

beth huffing loudly, as she moved closer to you. "y/n where is my shoe?" she spoke with sweet tone as you finished zipping up your bag turning to the blonde.

"bethany your shoe is in your hand?" you pointed to the trainer as beth rolled her eyes blowing a sharp breathe of air out of her mouth pinching her nose.

"y/n i know one of my shoes in my hand, but i don’t have only one foot, and i know you know where the other one is!"

"nah i don't sorry" you shrugged your shoulders turning back to what you were doing hearing beth scoff, "i'll be telling leah!" she mumbled under her breath, it was just a empty threat. beth wouldn't snitch, right.

you put your own trainers on as beth still wondered the room looking for her shoe as you made you way to the gym for your session.

your gym session went over quite quickly and thankfully it was home time, you limbs were aching and you couldn't wait to just lie in your own bed. however, during the session you couldn't help but notice the stern look leah had been sending your way the entire time.

and even though leah would usually always have a stern look on her face this one you'd seen more times than you'd like to admit.

it was never a good sign.

"your in trouble kid!" steph whispered as she walked past you, patting you on the shoulder before walking in front of you.

"what, why! i haven't done anything!" you huffed a frown appearing on your face as steph turned around and shrugged before walking ahead to catch up with lia. you had done something but that was harmless, and it was the only thing you’d done today!

you decided that the best way to stay out of trouble was to avoid leah like the plague. that way if you didn’t get the lecture from the older blonde then really it never happened! at least that’s how your brain worked, call it a form of girl math!

however, you hadn’t been lucky in escaping the blonde as she cornered you in the locker room meaning there was no way out you were going to have to listen to her lecture.

huffing you sat back down on the bench, leah sitting down beside you. now not blocking off the entrance, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about making a run for it but that would have made it ten times worse for yourself so you stayed rooted to the bench in the changing room.

“y/n you know i hate having this conversation with you, both me and kim get bored having to tell you the same thing-“ leah began as you played the string of your bag, leah looking at you with softened eyes.

“don’t get me wrong i want you to have fun, and enjoy training but you need to learn the limit” leah carried on as you nodded, okay maybe sometimes you would take it a little far but harmless jokes were fine, surely!

“cause do you still wanna make the senior squad for the euros?” leah asked as your head perked up, that was the goal. you had your eyes on the prize and you were willing to do anything to make sure you could be there. wanting to create history with the lionesses like they did at the last world cup and euros.

“yeah, i wanna be there”

leah nodded, “well you’re going to have to start and be a bit more mature y/n because not only what your like on the pitch but sarina takes into account of what a players like off the pitch”

you understood that but sometimes you could help it, it was as if sometimes when trouble happened it wasn’t you. it was someone else — it may sound silly to the average person. but you weren’t always the silly childish person.

“cause the senior team won’t stand for that, does that make sense” leah finished as you nodded, a sad smile on your face.

“heard you loud and clear!” you looked up letting go of the string of your bag as leah sighed a breath of relief.

“good now let’s get you home and we’ll have a better day tomorrow?” leah asked as she stood up first, picking up her bag as you nodded following the same actions as leah swung her arm around your shoulder as you both walked out of the training facility.

“your life would be so boring with out me!” you giggled as leah pressed the unlock button on her car keys, you already having put your training bag in the boot before getting into the passenger seat.

“maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing eh?” leah mutter as a small gasp came from you, “hey, i’m not that bad”

“whatever helps you sleep at night kiddo!”

[letorip]

hiiii! i loved reading “somethin’ stupid”, and I wanted to make a request for it. Not sure if it’s discontinued or not, but what abt reader when everything has healed and them being super insecure of their scars. Maybe getting bullied or harassed for them? And Wednesday comforting them, even though it’s not her thing + reassurance that she’ll always love them, no matter what. Ty for listening to my rant. :)

somethin’ stupid [iii]

“the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and oh, the night so blue”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: wednesday reminds you she loves you with an unending passion, even with the scars that you now wear for her.

warnings: mentions of bullying, body insecurities, percy hynes white the rat man himself existing, explicit words ig? if you can't handle cuss words idk what to tell you

word count: 3.9k

A/N: timeline a bit altered, there's about a week left before you return home for the summer, and xavier gives her the phone with this week left. thoughts are in red. i don’t usually accept requests from people but this was just too adorable to pass up, especially with the new season starting production. it kind of got away from me, in terms of length, but it was fun to write. next out will hopefully be the lottie matthews fic that i’ve been talking up

===+++===

===+++===

Scars were remarkable things. The way they stretched along the skin of your arms and right up almost to the tips of your fingers, or branched along the bridge of your nose and twisted along your jaw, it was as if a tree of your life was etched fundamentally into you, and Wednesday was transfixed.

It didn’t matter how many times she traced her fingers over the paths— two fingers, gentle, watching your nose twitch with every curve— she still thought they were, that you were breathtaking to look at.

“Wednesday, that tickles,” you hummed softly, eyes still closed. She frowned, tugging her hands away abruptly and raising her eyebrows at you.

“I was unaware you were awake," she said.

You lifted one eye open, smiling when you saw her, and though she would have still rather died than admit it, the gesture held a great, mystical power over her.

The skylight overhead leaked morning light into the room, flushing itself against the walls and beaming gently down, over your cheeks. It felt nice everywhere except for the new slashes that were still healing, and you rolled over, away from her to sit up on the edge of your bed and get out of the uncomfortable heat that pressed on those delicate places.

"How did you get in?" you asked, stretching out your arms and wincing a bit at the uncomfortable tightness. "You weren't here when I went to bed."

She watched you go, leaning back on the scratchy, woollen armchair next to your bed and shoving the stack of comic books already there to the side. “Your roof has a window, and I’m a very good climber. You should lock that, by the way.”

You turned to her and raised your eyebrows, looking miffed, but disgustingly adorable. “You could’ve just texted me, you know. I would’ve let you use the door.”

“And use that phone Xavier gave me? Believe me, I’d rather not,” she rolled her eyes with disgust, thinking about the interaction and how it took up time of her life that she'd never get back.

“You’d better, actually,” you said, turning to her with a smile and then wandering over to the set of drawers in the corner, clothes thrown all over the floor. Your whole room in general was a mess, largely from the bottles of medication and knocked over piles of books and things. It had been a rather stressful endeavour to get you up the stairs and comfortably inside, when you were still in your casts and there wasn’t an elevator.

“Why?” Wednesday challenged, watching you. She herself was already in her uniform, but she watched as you moved in your white pyjama t-shirt, the fresh scars almost dancing with your arms as they moved while you walked.

You grabbed a white button down out from the top one, shaking it a bit to get out a few wrinkles. “Because you’re sure as hell texting with me over summer break.” You shrugged, taking the shirt with you and walking behind the dividing screen you had next to your wardrobe. “That was nice of him to do for you, actually.” Your shirt went flying over the divider, landing on the ground.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. “You’re too kind to him. The snivelling rat only gave it to me so I would feel obligated to text him.” She could hear you rustling around behind the screen, messing about with your clothes. “Besides, why use the phone when I can visit you in person? Are you so braindead you need to rely on your phone for communication?”

The small noises stopped abruptly, and when you didn’t reply to that for a minute, Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows, standing up in her heavy boots that thudded against the creaky old wood of your floor. “What is it?” she asked, stepping forward towards the screen. You had made a fool of her with how much you made her worry, but she still desperately needed to know what was going on inside your head. She needed to be sure that you were okay.

She expected to see you have tripped maybe, or you had somehow collapsed into a pile of clothes and drifted back off to sleep, but the reality was a bit more mollifying. You were on the other side, just standing there with your button down shirt open in front of the mirror. You didn't say anything for a while, staring into it with a frown.

The scars over your stomach were perhaps the deepest, with raw, pinkish impressions still pressed into them and greenish-yellow bruises around the edges that were still straggling to heal up. The lines criss-crossed over your skin and up your chest, ending at the peaks of your shoulders that the white button down draped over. “They look bad on me,” you said, quietly.

She didn't particularly know what to say, watching your eyes continue to stare with a rigid dislike back at yourself. To get her to comfortably lean on you had been quite the effort, and now that you were officially together she was still becoming used to saying she loved you or kissing your skin whenever she so felt like it.

“They look like scars,” Wednesday replied. “The bruising will heal and the redness will fade, and-”

“But they won’t go away.” You said it with a flat disappointment. Wednesday blinked, confused by how you spoke of them. Were you unaware just how magnificent they looked upon you? The thought was vexing, and Wednesday was unsure what it was she could say to ease your mind, so she chose to say nothing at all.

You did the buttons up quickly, tugging on the collar to stand as tall as possible. It covered most of the scarring, but one could still see wisps of hurt skin on your hands and cuts across your face and jaw— Wednesday liked that one especially. You didn't seem to like any of them.

"We're going to be late to breakfast," she said, leaning with her arms crossed against the wardrobe. You shrugged again, going to grab your trousers.

"Go without me."

This caused her great pause. You were never one to miss breakfast. It was probably one of the most consistent ways someone could find you if they needed to. "It's your first day back," she argued. "And you're still recovering."

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you messed with the button of your pants, and it relaxed her a little bit, if the Addams could. "I'll survive without breakfast for a day, Wednesday. I need to get ready for class."

She narrowed her eyes at you. "Then I can survive without breakfast, too." You straightened up, sending her a look as you buttoned your trousers. You entirely knew the game that she was playing. The game she was winning, too.

"You can go without me."

"But I won't," she replied. You narrowed your eyes, grabbing some socks.

"Fine."

She glared right back, but not in an angry way. Just to let you know she was serious. "Fine." You rolled your eyes, stalking over, now that you were clothed and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. She leaned into it, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Her thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin there.

"You win," you conceded, pulling away and looking down at her with a smile.

"I always do," she said, looking up at you with a shine in her dark eyes.

===+++===

I guess (Y/n) is back.

Oh my god, the rumours were true.

Jeeeesus Christ, that kid's face.

The thoughts flitted past you like passing trains as you walked to the quad, loud and unfiltered noise in the back of your mind that acted as a constant reminder of the new skin you wore. You wore them for her, the short girl walking next to you, but even with her right by your side, it was like she was a million miles away.

That must've hurt, holy hell.

They stared, the people you passed, watching you with a weird half-shock, half-pity, their thoughts running wild. The worst ones imagined the scenario for themselves, and within their heads you saw a dozen different replays in different ways of you getting absolutely torn apart.

How are you still alive???

Fucking jumpscare...

That was about all it took before you shut off your noise completely. Maybe for once, it was better not to know what other people were thinking. You sent a glance to Wednesday, who was walking next to you with her eyes facing ahead. When you felt the people still staring, you frowned, bumping her with your hand. You needed her to hold it very, very badly.

But she sent you a look, shaking her head once as if to say 'not here.' You knew Wednesday didn't like PDA of any sort. She still struggled sometimes to wrap her arms around your shoulders or pull you in by your waist. It wasn't natural, but you still couldn't help feeling a little bit disappointed. The imaginary distance between you both widened, right then, and other kids' staring felt amplified by ten.

Suddenly, a colourful blur came bounding across the quad and right down the hall, straight for you. "Enid— Enid, wait—" Enid tackled you in a tight hug, squeezing you against her with an unrestrained excitement and trying to shake you like a rag doll, it felt like.

"Oh my god! You're back! Oh. My. God!" She screamed, beaming from ear to ear, pulling away to look at you for a second before going right back to hugging you tightly.

You grit your teeth from the discomfort of pressure being placed on the delicate skin, but made no move to pull away, and instead did your best to smile through it. A hug felt nice. It was the warmth you needed in a place that was being so cold to you at the moment. Enid didn't care what marks you had.

"Enid, down," Wednesday said firmly, watching the exchange and carefully monitoring your expression. She had caught your grimace, sending you a wary look and crossing her arms, subtly trying to make sure you were okay. You sent her a quick nod, and Enid gently pulled away.

"Sorry," she said, wincing at realising her mistake. The expression only lasted a second though, before she was right back to smiling at you. "Wait, we're scar buddies!"

You laughed. It had been the first time you felt good about them since finding Wednesday tracing them while you slept. "We definitely are."

Enid's were a bit more healed than yours, blending better into the skin than those that protruded from the bridge of your nose and sloped down into your cheek. You saw yours and thought 'ugly'; you saw Enid's and thought nothing. But you would take it either way.

The girl grabbed your arm, tugging you harshly forwards and dragging you towards your usual table. "You have to see Yoko. Her and Divina were worried sick about you." You sent Wednesday back a look as Enid dragged you, and she shrugged, watching you go, not that she'd be able to do much to stop her.

By the time she had comfortably strolled over to the table, Enid had already dragged you into a seat, and was brightly recounting everything you had missed. Wednesday had already done so, when you were still in the hospital recovering, but you let her continue to talk. It felt nice. Like everything was back to normal for once. She slid down next to you, not saying anything.

Divina and Yoko were being nice about your scars. They kept on trying to brush past it, like nothing was wrong, but you knew when they looked at your face, it was the first thing to catch their eyes every time.

"Are you excited to be back?" Yoko asked from behind her sunglasses, leaning against Divina's shoulders.

"Making up the homework I missed out on? Super thrilled," you said dryly, putting your elbows on the table and leaning on them as you partook in the conversation.

"Well, everyone's missed you," said Divina, trying to smile, but her eyes shifted down quickly, to look at your hands and the cuts upon them before back up to you. "We're all happy you're okay."

You sent her what was supposed to be a smile, but by the look Wednesday shot at you, it probably looked a bit more like a grimace. Could you even call this 'okay?' This wasn't being okay. Being okay would've meant you looked the same as you did before, and that wouldn't happen. It had been permanently taken from you.

"So what are you all doing, for summer?" you threw out the question, more as a way to change the subject, and it was successful. Enid lit up like a Christmas tree, super excited to share about a trip she was taking to see her extended family. It wasn't that you didn't care, but you stopped for a moment, realising this was the happiest you had been in a while. At a table with your friends, and Wednesday next to you. Of course, that was when it was immediately ruined.

From behind Enid, you could see Xavier spot Wednesday and similarly light up, bounding over with a smile.

"And then we're going to the beach with my baby little cousins, and—"

"Wednesday!" he called out to her, interrupting Enid and looking across the table at the girl. Her hand crept up to your knee, placing itself firmly, in a way that told you she was dreading his presence. He looked around at you all, spotting you and failing to hide his disappointment at your return. Xavier quickly glanced back to Wednesday. "Did you get my text?" He asked, smiling again.

Wednesday stared back, unimpressed. "I did. I ignored it."

"Oh," his face dropped. "Well, I wanted to ask if you would tutor me on botany."

She blinked. "There's a week left of school."

"I know," Xavier shrugged. "But we have that end of year quiz on Wednesday."

"I would rather watch Legally Blonde." You had to stop yourself from laughing at that one. You had been the one to show that to her, and she spent the entire duration looking horrified.

"We could do that, then," he offered, and you suddenly realised you had been too nice to him in terms of pursuing Wednesday. Most people knew by now, that you two were officially together, not that it had been much of a secret, even when you were just hooking up. It was rather insane for his pursuit to continue, when you were right there.

"Xavier, I think me and Wednesday are busy, for at least the next couple days," you said, trying to let him down easy. He sent you a glare, before looking back at Wednesday like she would have a different response. She stared back, maintaining her deadpan expression, but squeezing your knee softly as if to say 'thank you.'

He frowned. "Fine. See you in fencing, (Y/n)." You smiled back at him, figuring maybe things were good now. Wednesday sent you a wary glance.

God, you couldn't have been more wrong.

===+++===

Wednesday Addams stormed through the halls of Nevermore with a fire under her feet and a rage in her heart. She pushed through the groups of people, storming up the stairs and down the corridors like she was about to explode. And she truly was.

When she arrived at your door, she was knocking heavily, small fist pounding on the wood with fury.

"(Y/n). Open the door."

No response. It was just about as quiet as it had been that morning, when she had caught you staring at yourself. It filled her with an unmatched worry, sending her back to the night when she had seen those red and blue police lights and thought she had lost you forever. "Open the door." She demanded again, pressing her ear up to it.

"Go away, Wednesday," you said from the other side. It was muffled, but she could still make out the pain in your voice.

"(Y/n), let me in. Now." It was practically a plea at that point, and she cursed you for bringing her to this place of utter weakness for you. "Either you let me in yourself, or I let myself in," Wednesday said, firmly speaking to you with her head against the door. She needed to know you were okay. It came first, right before the rage she felt for Xavier, and she so needed to know that you were still there— still hers to keep.

You didn't say anything though, choosing to continue to stay quiet in your room. Wednesday sighed, grabbing a hairpin from her pocket and reaching for the lock.

She got the door open in less than thirty seconds out of habit, pushing it open gently and letting herself in before she rushed over to you. You didn't even look at her, instead continuing to stare out the window and the sunny day, clouds floating by as if nothing were different. It felt out of place, now.

The part of your face away from the window was covered by the dark of your room. You hadn't even bothered to turn the lights on, sitting in the dark. She used to like the dark, but it felt out of place for you to be hiding in it.

"Look at me," Wednesday said, standing in front of your armchair. Her hand went to your chin, gently tilting your face up. There was a bandage right there, on your forehead, over what could only be a giant cut.

"Who told you what happened?" you asked quietly, your eyes a bit misty. You weren't a usual crier, and it made her uneasy to see just how much of an effect his actions had had on you.

"Yoko. It's about the only time that idiotic phone came in handy. I came as soon as I heard. He's not supposed to start mach when you're not wearing your helmets. Mark my words, I'll curse him until the end of time." It didn't seem to comfort you like it usually did, the pain in your eyes only worsening.

"Do you know what he said, when he cut me?"

She blinked in confusion. "He said 'Frankenstein, I'll give you one to match the others'," you finished, looking her in the eyes for the first time since she had entered the room.

"He's an asshole, I told you," she said, trying to stop you, but you jerked away from her touch for the first time.

"It's not just him. Wends, I see it all the time." Your voice broke a little bit, and you stopped to swallow before continuing. It hurt her heart, as if she was being left to die again in that crypt. "In people's heads, from their mouths, in the mirror. It replays like a fucking movie. I keep seeing myself almost die, and I'm starting to think it would've been better if I had."

No. That was enough. She firmly grabbed your chin again, eyes glinting with violence at the offensive proposition. "Never say that sentence ever again, or else."

"He's got a point though, doesn't he?" you said it slowly, your scarred hand reaching out to her arm and wrapping around her wrist. She flinched at the contact but did not pull away. "I'll never be the same 'me' as I was before. There's something— I'm wrong. And you know it, too. That's why you won't touch me when others are around. It's not me."

Wednesday stared at you for a long moment, as you began to cry. Then her hands went to your cheeks again, just as they had earlier, gently cupping your face in her hands, as if you were the world, because you were. You were her world. "You're an idiot. It appears I've failed to make myself clear."

"What do you mean?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Your simple mind fails to realise why I'm even here," she said, and then she leaned forward, clambering up into your lap and resting her forehead on yours. Wednesday had become accustomed to, and rather fond of, making a home there. She was far from the greatest at expressions, but she wanted to make you realise the obvious and that was more than enough motivation to try. "I'm here because I burn for you, down to my core and back up again."

"But I'm not me, not with these—" But you were interrupted by her hand, sliding up to cover your mouth.

"Hush, idiot. You are the same you as before, and I wouldn't stop loving you for anything. I have loved you for all you were before and all you are now. I would have loved you if the damage was worse, and I would still yearn for you if you had died. It makes no difference, (Y/n), you fool. You're still you, and you're still as... captivating as the first time I saw you and wanted you in my possession."

Her hand came to your cheek again, stroking gently the skin there and feeling all the ridges under her thumb. "You've placed a cruel curse on me, as if you don't already know yourself. I am indefinitely, irrevocably yours. My refusal to touch you in public is a personal discomfort, but one I'll...overcome, if it means that much to you. Even if I am not touching you, you must assume I want to, because I do."

She brushed a stray tear away, wiping it on your jacket, and your hands came up to wrap around her waist, tugging her against you like you were afraid she would melt through your fingers. "Are you aware of how I was almost killed, in the crypt, when fighting Crackstone?"

You shook your head. "You don't like to talk about it," you mumbled, burying your head in her chest. Her hands went to your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp.

"It was an...incredibly confusing dilemma. I used to patiently await death. My family and I hold it with a special regard. But as I was dying, I only felt lonely. Do you know why?"

You frowned against her, shaking your head again. Wednesday scoffed. "The obvious answer is you. It would be leaving without you. And as obnoxious as it is, I don't want to. Today, tomorrow, forever; I want to do it with you."

You sat there for a moment, thinking to yourself, and then you nodded. It was slow, but it was there, and when Wednesday felt it, she sat back to look you in the eyes. "Are we clear?" She demanded. If you said no, she would only double down. But instead, you nodded again, looking up at her. She held your heart in her hands.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

You leaned forward, kissing her with the most passion you ever had, and Wednesday only returned it, cupping your neck and leaning into you. She would crawl into your skin, if she could. She'd build a little birdhouse in your soul, if she could find a way. You pulled away again, after a long minute, nodding again. "Okay. Same."

She blinked. "Same? I spill my heart to you and you respond with 'ditto'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes, attempting to get off your lap. But your arms came up, entrapping her there and holding her close.

"You've put it perfectly. I want you forever, too." And so she melted into your embrace again, hand going to your scars to trace them and you nuzzling into her hand. It was a while, before either of you spoke.

"We have to get him back, forever, this time," Wednesday said, cold and calculating.

"Agreed."

About two days later, you watched in absolute delight as Xavier ran down the hall in his bathroom towel, a poisonous snake trailing behind him and half of his head shaved completely bald. Call it an ode of Wednesday's love.

===+++===

this was fun! i'm unsure of where to, if i do at all, take somethin' stupid from here. this won't be the only wednesday fic, so unless you all have more ideas, this may be it for this series. anyways, cheers!