#it's like my two hyperfixations keep colliding

[suns-blood]

OH MY FUCKING GOD REMINGTON LEITH OF PALAYE ROYALE SAID THAT TYLER FUCKING JOSEPH IS ONE OF HIS INSPIRATIONS FOR THEIR LYRICS I AM DECEASED

[rcvcgers]

Challengers, part one

series masterlist , main masterlist

18+ content! minors dni!

please read the author's note before continuing.

pairings ; caleb x reader x zayne

synopsis ; it's the last playoff game between the linkon hunters and skyhaven fleet. their star players, zayne & caleb, go head to head. you sit in the crowd and watch.

word count ; 5.5k words

author's note ; hi all! thank you so much for your interest in the series! it made me so excited that i decided to write the first chapter and post it for y'all! now, to get into it:

this is an adaptation from the movie challengers. i am essentially putting these characters into the roles of tashi, art, and patrick. i HIGHLY recommend watching the movie first before you read! the structure is non-linear and there will be time jumps back and forth. those who have seen the movie will understand but if you haven't it may be hard to keep up. i will indicate when there is a switch in time, though!

i also plan on (trying to, at least) making this hornier than the movie! i will be writing out the sex scenes & will even expand upon a few of them alongside other scenes from the movie. the movie is erotic and i will try my best to match the mood! i want to do luca justice for his amazing direction of the movie!

also, this will be an alternate universe where the characters do not have powers & their relationships/dynamic aren't exactly like in the game. if you're looking for canon compliant characterization, then i suggest you go read another fanfic because i am taking liberties with caleb & zayne & any other character that may appear (stares at the other LIs).

now that is done & over with, i hope you all enjoy the fic! i love the movie so much and had to make it into a fic for caleb & zayne for obvious reasons! and psst, this chapter is a little on the shorter side but the other chapters will be heavier in word count! and it will most likely have weekend updates!

content warning ; blood, light violence (punching), light neck kisses, slight vulgar language, let me know if i missed anything!

my challengers ❤︎ ; @militaryapple , @godoffuckedupcats , @tojicide , @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane , @mariojins , @probably-hyperfixating , @neigesprincess , @leeniverse , @debrahhhhhhh , @31streasonwhy , @loversobession , @idiashusband , @nezuswritingdesk , @sanrioprincessdani , @blorbohunter , @divxvx , @kazbrkker , @deathdakidz , @here-for-the-tea-baby , @zariahx , @rxelarailuj , @aliyahluvsfall , @novthirty , @mxkvlio , @yumesagashite , @zeskyzed ,@llamabois , @darkeskye , @hrtnote , @cathedralofaudra , @chakalimic , @butterbiscuit444 , @jexireads , @updatesoftware , @blcknebula

The center face off circle is a faded blue color. A red line runs down the middle, Skyhaven Fleet’s logo dead center of the ice. Two shadows approach the center. A man with purple eyes and athletic tape poking over the edge of his heavy uniform. The other has hazel eyes, mouthguard hanging from his mouth, chewing on the malleable plastic.

The puck is dropped. The arena cheers, air horns going off, and chants from the fans beginning.

Skates dash across the ice, slicing into the frozen landscape. The once perfect ice is now ruined. Holes and scrapes dig into the surface, the tips of razor sharp places picking up snow when a player comes to a sudden stop. Bodies collide. Gear and padding smack into each other. Sweat falls from foreheads. Men yell at each other on the ice, trying to be audible over the deafening sound of the championship crowd.

One Skyhaven player, in a black and blue uniform, sprints down the ice. He pants, face in a grimace, as a Linkon Hunter slips in behind him. The puck dances back and forth against the ice, staying in the comfort of the player’s reach. They shoot down the side of the ice, the player in the gold and white uniform catches up to him. The curved edge of his stick scrapes across the once smooth ice, the tip just barley nicking the back of the Skyhaven player’s blades.

The Skyhaven player quickly looks over his shoulder, purple eyes focused on the stoic face that closes in on him. A smirk flashes across his face. He flicks his stick to the right, tilting his blades against the ice, snow kicking up from the sudden movement. He slows enough for the arena’s camera to pick up the white last name on his jersey.

Xia 

The Linkon player slips by him. His black hair falls onto his forehead. The thin, clear visor veils his hazel eyes, trained on the black puck that’s been hit to the other side of the ice. He groans and circles behind his team’s goal. His appearance is blurred from his speed. It’s only when he hooks around the net that the camera is able to grab his name.

Li

The black haired man pushes up to the other Skyhaven player. His hockey stick slaps and swipes across the ice. They tussle over the puck, bodies leaning in on each other. The Linkon player slips the puck out from the chaos. The black puck is just about to reach his teammate when Skyhaven’s star player cuts between the pass, intercepting it. He darts down the rest of the ice.

Everyone in the stadium leans forward, slowly sucking in all of the air from the chilly area. Knuckles are white, babies stop their cries, anticipation bubbling inside the enclosure.

The puck flies through the air, the thwack from the hit echoing across the ice. Time slows. The puck collides with the back of the net. The crowd erupts into screams and cheers. Grown men jump from their seats and hug each other while others shake their head and take a sip from their beers, cursing under their breath.

It’s the last game of the playoffs. The seventh and final game has begun with the Skyhaven Fleet taking the early lead over the Linkon Hunters.

Sirens and horns blare throughout the stadium. The Fleet’s team skates to their star player who just scared. They slap and smack his padded body and helmet, a charming smile gracing the man’s face. His purple eyes lock onto a player who skates by, sharing an intimidating and threatening glare.

“Caleb Xia with the first goal of the night!” An announcer screams through the arena’s speakers. 

The scoreboard is bright, dangling over the ice like a taunt to the losing players, especially to one in particular. Caleb Xia’s headshot and dazzling smile is displayed for all of the fans to see.

1 - 0

“A devastating blow for Zayne Li of the Linkon Hunters,” the announcer continues, “if only he got to the puck sooner!”

Caleb and Zayne skate around the inner circle of the ice. Their eyes remain on each other. Caleb wears a smug smirk, closing in on his spot next to the referee. Zayne slowly approaches with a scowl sewn onto his lips.

They lean down, resting their weight onto their knees, eyes on the ice. Caleb’s breaths are steady whereas Zayne’s are shallow, anticipation taking over his body. In unison, they lower their sticks onto the ground, placing a bit of their weight into it. The referee leans down with them, puck in hand, whistle in his mouth. He glances between the men. The tension slowly builds. He drops the puck and skates backwards, a blur of sticks colliding and smacking against each other. Zayne is able to slip in and swipe the puck away, passing it to a teammate.

Caleb hesitates in his place. Zayne bumps his padded shoulder into his. Caleb’s nostrils flare. He turns on his blade, immediately darting after Zayne, who sticks to the edge of the frozen playing field. He is nowhere near the game of play, watching as his teammates pass back and forth. Zayne remains open, waiting for the right moment to slip in. He’s just about to push off the edge when—

Slam!

The large plexiglass planes stutter in their place, reverberating from the sheer force of Zayne’s body colliding with it. The side of Zayne’s face smacks against the barrier, pain flashing across his face. A metallic taste fills his mouth. Caleb keeps him held up against the wall, only letting go when a referee pulls him off. As the men are pulled away from each other to prevent a fight, their eyes move to someone sitting behind the glass.

There you are. The object of their desires, the angel in their dreams, the woman who has captivated them for the past thirteen years of their lives. A she-devil disguised as an angel. The woman who has been nothing but honest about her pursuit for greatness, expecting nothing less from those who surround her.

You like to sit to the side of Zayne’s team, always available to give him so much needed words of wisdom when he begins to falter in his gameplay. You watch from your seat, glossed lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over your chest, diamond wedding ring sparkling under the stadium lights. Eyes flicker between the men, their lips parting when you make eye contact with them. You slowly lean back in your chair. Caleb passes between you and Zayne, his purple eyes locked on you, smirk spread across his face before he disappears with his team. Your gaze lingers on him. You reread his last name on his jersey before peeling your gaze away.

Zayne hovers by the glass, looking at you. His eyes soften yet hold back any emotion he may feel, an internal push and pull with himself. You tilt your head to the side and your gaze sharpens on him, shaking your head ever so slightly. He swivels on the ice and skates away, swinging his stick back and forth as he catches up with the play.

Four Weeks Ago

Zayne sits on the hotel couch, remote in hand, knuckles white. His hazel eyes remain on the television screen. You move behind him, talking in hushed whispers with his personal trainer while shaking up a green drink in a water bottle.

“It’s predicted that the Skyhaven Fleet will be facing off against the Linkon Hunter’s in this year’s championship. The other teams in the league aren’t able to keep up with their offensive players. With the return of Zayne Li, do you think the Linkon Hunters will be victorious?”

Zayne’s grip on the remote tightens. Unable to look away, he watches as footage from his injury plays on screen. A player in a green uniform uses his hockey stick to swipe at Zayne’s feet, the man’s shoulder colliding into the tall glass planes. His shoulder popped out of its socket, his collarbone shattering into three distinct fragments.

It took him out of the game for three months. He sat on the sideline alongside his team, arm in a black sling, while you sat beside him on the other side of the glass in your usual spot, watching the game, taking notes on plays and players for him. He returned just in time for playoff season, having jumped in a few games before the official start of playoffs.

His game, though, had changed. The once strong and confident player now plays timid, staying away and out of skirmishes that may arise.he hangs back, preferring to shoot from afar despite knowing that the goalie will snatch it in his glove. He no longer slams other players out of the way, instead making sure to always swerve around them instead of taking the hit like he used to.

After every game, Zayne saw the look of disappointment in your face. He noticed every micro-expression, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, the twitch of your lips tugging down, the way you could barely look at him when you got back to the hotel while in another city. Zayne knew you were hiding your lackluster enthusiasm for his return to the game. He knows that every smile you give him is filled with sadness that he’s allowing his injury to ruin his season, his career.

Zayne knew he had to make it up to you, to get back into the number one spot in the game and in your heart, even if it means he doesn’t want it as much as you do.

“I think Li and the rest of the Hunters have an uphill battle to face. The Skyhaven Fleet just signed back on their star player, Caleb Xia, and—”

The television goes silent. Zayne blinks, slowly turning his head to look up at you. You look down at him, your hand on top of his. His grip loosens and you slip the remote from his hand, moving it to the side table.

An orange medication bottle sits on the table with his name printed on the side. Painkillers for his shoulder and collarbone just in case his pain flares up. On the coffee table in front of him sits an open laptop. His emails with his coach and physical therapist are open to read, x-rays attached in a file. Beside his laptop is a cup of jasmine tea and a small, sweet breakfast treat, one that you were sure to lecture him for having.

You slowly circle around the couch like a predator trapping its prey. Zayne’s eyes never leave your body. A light blue, silk two piece pajama set hugs your body, a hotel robe flowing behind you. Whenever Zayne looks at you, you always manage to take his breath away. You stare at the television screen, though, and take your place at the other end of the hotel couch.

The television screen shows highlights from Zayne’s last game against the Whitesand Sharks. In one of the clips, Zayne falls behind as the other players push past him, skating across the length of the rink quicker than he did. You sigh, watching his number try to keep up.

“You should skate laps tomorrow…get your stamina back up, lessen your time,” you mutter, eyes fixated on the screen.

Zayne’s hand inches closer to you. His calloused fingertips walk along the exposed skin of your leg. He hooks his fingers behind your calf, using just a tiny bit of his strength and muscles to pull you towards him. A gasp escapes your lips. He immediately wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

The palm of your hand flattens against his bare chest, fingers spread out across his skin. He sighs and helps you adjust your legs in a position where you are most comfortable, just the way you like it. Zayne leans his head into yours, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Look,” you point to the screen, “we need to improve before the first playoff game.”

Zayne’s tiny figure glides across the muted television screen. The network plays coverage of another game he was in, a more recent one, where he misses a pass, the puck being caught by an opposing player. Another clip is of him missing the net from a close distance. A close up of his frustrated face flashes across the screen, shaking his head while he chews on his mouth guard. The last clip shows him throwing his hockey stick away, the piece of black painted wood spinning across the ice while Zayne yells at a referee.

“I wonder what he’s yelling about,” Zayne comments, trying to lighten the mood. You slowly turn to look at him, frowning. “He probably has a good reason. He was playing really well—”

“You should stay on the bench if you’re going to continue playing like that.”

“My love…”

“You should sit out of the playoffs. This isn’t your year, so why contribute, right?” You begin to peel away from him but Zayne pulls you right back. Your eyes meet, his gaze burning into yours, disinterest and disappointment in written all over your face.

“I’m just rusty. It’s a confidence thing,” Zayne reasons. You lean in, face hovering next to his. You squeeze his chest, the tips of your fingers just barely grazing across the slowly fading scar on Zayne’s shoulder.

“Then get your fucking confidence back,” your voice is low, dangerous. It’s a threat, a promise that something bad will come his way. Zayne sighs. His grip on you loosens.

You readjust in his arms, gaze now trained on the fresh and slightly pink scar. Your painted fingernail presses into the skin. Zayne sucks in a breath. You drag your finger along the line of the scar, feeling the raised skin press into the pad of your ring finger. The diamond of your wedding ring shimmers under the afternoon sun; the token of Zayne’s love for you perpetually glimmers like the ring he put on your finger, locking you to him. The ring acts as a silent sign that you’re his, nobody else’s.

So is it really a token of his love? Or is it a way for him to mark his territory?

“I would have killed to have a recovery like yours,” you whisper. Zayne turns his head to look at you but you don’t look back. Your nail pushes into his skin further. Chills spread across his chest and shoulder. “I literally would have stabbed someone. An old lady, a child, a priest…you.”

“Where are Mommy and Daddy?” a little girl’s voice can be hard from just outside the hotel’s living room.

“They’re inside watching Daddy’s past games, baby, you can see them soon,” you Gran’s voice soothes her. Both you and Zayne look at the doorway, waiting for them to enter. You turn back around and look up at him, keeping your voice low.

“What do I need to do? What can we do to get you to play like you used to?”

Zayne’s bright eyes move away from your face, looking at the doorway. You turn, following his gaze, and smile when your daughter enters the room. She holds a snowman plushie in her arms, it’s almost as big as she is, and waddles inside. The budding tension between you two immediately dissipates.

“Mommy? Daddy? Can we watch a movie?” she asks, her eyes big and puppy-like.

“Of course, Lily,” you breathe out. You slip from Zayne’s grasp, his touch lingering on your back as you pull your daughter into your arms. She has your hair and nose while taking Zayne’s vibrant hazel eyes and quiet nature. “We were just talking about hockey, honey.”

“You’re always talking about hockey,” Lily murmurs, looking down at her snowman plushie. Your smile falters. Zayne’s heart aches at his daughter’s words.

“I know, I know,” you quickly recover for you and Zayne, glancing back at him. You push away from the couch, hands resting on Lily’s shoulders, and follow her out of the room. “Why don’t you go get your blanket and other plushies to join us, okay? I bet they’d want to watch a movie too.”

Zayne sighs, remaining on the couch. He looks back to the muted television screen. Footage from a previous season’s game, one where his goals were at an all time high, plays. He darts across the ice, perpetually open and quick to pass the puck when the defenders gang up on him. He slips around the opposing team’s hockey net. The puck flies to him and he’s quick to dump the winning goal into the back of the net. Light flash and his team skates up to him. They cheer and celebrate while the other team sulks, aimlessly gliding across the coarse and beaten up ice.

Pride fills Zayne’s chest. He watches how his smile grows from the other side of the camera lens. He can hear the screams and cheers from the crowd, making his ears ring as sirens blare and lights flash on and off. He still remembers how he traveled across the rink, finding you in your usual spot.

There was a small smile on your face. One that is both proud yet expected. Zayne tossed his hockey stick to the side, swiping the black helmet off of his head. His gloved hand presses against the glass. The world around you two moved slow. Confetti descends from the ceiling, taking its time to reach the frozen floor, and bodies jump up and down, hovering in the air before meeting the concrete below them. You stood from your seat, adjusting your clothes, and pressed your hand on the glass, your eyes fixed on his.

“She likes it here,” your voice breaks Zayne out of his daydream. He looks to you. His black hair falls in his face, ticking his eyebrows. You stand in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest. A knot forms in your chest. You slowly breathe in and out, watching as Zayne’s expression softens.

“We can stay here,” he breathes out. He props his elbow up onto the back of the plush couch, leaning his head against it. His eyes travel up and down your body, gaze hesitating when it reaches the scar on your knee.

“Yeah?” you respond, holding your arms closer to you chest. “We can stay here. We can stay behind and act like rich people, like celebrities. We can stay behind and focus on the foundation, maybe get you a job as a coach of a minor league team before you’re pulled up. I can continue being your wife, the mother of your daughter, and play house while you’re gone all day...if it’s what you think you can handle.”

Zayne turns his face away from you. A bitter taste spreads across his tongue. He looks at the television. Caleb Xia’s face is plastered all over it. The volume is off but Zayne can hear the commentator’s praise through the silence. He watches as the man skates across the ice, passing the end zone lines, over the face off circles, the puck moving in and out of other player’s grasps before he launches it into the net.

Frustration builds inside Zayne’s chest. It ferments, rotting his once strong confidence, withering it down as the seconds tick by.

“Or you can continue being a hockey player.”

Zayne’s head snaps to you. Your arms are crossed over your chest. You raise an eyebrow at him, lips pursed.

“Which is what you are. Still.” You push away from the doorway. Every step is calculated, meticulous. He stares at you, heat trickling into his cheeks. His eyes narrow. You look down at him, unable to read the emotions on his face.

Is it anger? Contempt? Love? Hatred? Have you finally broken him? Pushed him past his limit so he can’t return to the same player he used to be?

You stand in front of him, slipping between his spread open legs. He leans forward and places his hands on the back of your thighs. You look down and place a hand on his cheek, your touch gentle and tender. Zayne pulls you closer, your knees and shins pressed against the material of the couch. Your thumb grazes over his cheekbone, wiping over a faded bruise from a punch he took just a few days ago.

“It’s your choice, Zayne,” you whisper, “what do you want?”

Your breath mixes in with Zayne’s. His hands run up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. With one gentle pull, he guides your leg to his side, pulling you on his lap. Your hands rest on the sides of his neck, thumbs grazing the stubble on his jawline. Zayne’s hands slip behind the rope and under your silk pajama shirt, one that he desperately wants to rip off your body with his teeth. He holds back, though, and allows his gaze to travel up and down the bare, unmarked skin of your neck. HIs hazel eyes slowly travel back up to your face, catching your gaze.

“I’m going to be a hockey player,” he whispers.

“Good,” you whisper back. Zayne leans up but you tilt your head to the side, his lips coming in contact with your cheek. He begins to press slow, tender kisses down your jaw, making his way to your neck. You sigh and lean into his touch, closing your eyes, feeling his hands bring your chest closer into his hardened muscles.

Caleb taps his fingers against the car’s steering wheel. The windows are devoured in dirt and grime from the outside world, some of it being trapped beneath his fingernails. His phone screen illuminates the inside of the faded blue Jeep.

“Has the deal gone through yet?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. The man on the other end of the call sighs.

“They’re being difficult with the paperwork. It will probably be finalized tomorrow.”

“Uh huh…” Caleb swipes out of the call, not ending it, but opens up his bank account. Red numbers stare back at him, his recent transactions for gas and drive thru food sinking him into the negatives. He narrows his eyes at the screen, sighing, before moving back to the call. “Do you think I can get an advance on the paycheck? Or just enough to stay the night somewhere close by?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Caleb,” his agents responds with another let down of an answer. The man’s face scrunches up. He pinches the bridge of his nose, muscles in his forearms flexing.

“Really?” he follows up.

“Appears that way,” his agent confirms. “This is what happens when you let your ego get in the way and are dropped down to the minor lea—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb interrupts, “I got it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” He hangs up the phone before his agent can answer. He tosses the small device into the passenger seat, hitting an empty styrofoam cup from some chicken place called The Chicken Joint and bounces to the floor. Caleb leans back into his chair, groaning. He slams his fists against the wheel. The horn sounds off for a split second.

 Caleb gets out of the car, walking around to the passenger side. Skyhaven’s nightly breeze chills him, a few snowflakes flowing with the wind. He rips open the passenger side door and picks up his phone, running his thumb over the cracked screen. It vibrates.

Rest up. You have practice tomorrow before the first playoff game game. Don’t fuck it up.

A frown tugs his lips down. He shoves the phone inside the back pocket of his pants and rushes to the motel doors. His boot slips on the wet plastic of the welcome mat, clinging to the metal bar of the door for some stability. The old woman at the front desk watches him, half burnt cigarette hanging from her lips. Bright red lipstick stains the outside of the white roll of tobacco, a grumble leaving her lips.

“Welcome to Cloud Motel,” her voice is gravelly, “what can I do for you?”

“Yeah, hi,” Caleb puts his most charming smile on his face, beaming down at the woman. “I’d like a room, please, but the thing is…” he pauses when the woman begins to turn away, rolling her eyes.

“No money?”

“Yeah…” he scratches the back of his head. “I can get it to you tomorrow! I just signed a multi-million dollar deal with the Skyhaven Fleet so—”

“I don’t know what that is,” the woman quips with a condescending smile. Caleb pauses, smile slightly faltering, before he moves his fists to his side.

“It’s a professional hockey team, ma’am,” he breathes through gritted teeth, “playoffs start this week but they haven’t given me an advance on my salary.”

“Oh? The multi-million dollar deal you were bragging about?” she throws his words right back into his face. Caleb forces his smile to remain, not letting her attitude spoil his mood. “You know, if I gave out a free to room to whoever came in here claiming to be a future millionaire, I wouldn’t be a motel…I’d be a homeless shelter.”

“I can sign a hockey stick for you? It’d be worth a lot of money on eBay—”

“Sir,” the woman snorts, “I don’t know who the fuck you are!”

A laugh flies from Caleb’s lips. The woman takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out into his face. He shakes his head and looks away. He taps the counter with his hands before eventually turning around and exiting the motel.

Caleb hugs his arms to his chest, hurrying back to his beaten up Jeep. There are grayed splotches from where the paint has faded. He’s had the car since high school, something he saved up for before he left to go play for the Fleet for the first time.

Now, it was just a reminder of where the past thirteen years of his life has led him to. He’s a washed up hockey player, one that was purposefully demoted to the minor league due to his ego and constant need to hit the puck and fight, that is broke as hell and needs a redemption…what better than to win the playoffs for his team?

He gets inside his car, the engine sputtering to life. He sits there for a minute. The windshield slowly loses its fog and the orange roadside lamps make the world seem more orange than dark. Caleb rubs his dry hands together, warming them up. He puts his seatbelt on and puts the car in drive. The wheels spin against the snow, car drifting as he pulls out into the snow covered road.

The radio is on. Caleb usually has it on some sports channel, especially when hockey season rolls around. A cigarette hangs from his teeth, puffing the smoke out in medium sized plumes.

“Rumor has it that Caleb Xia is coming back to the Fleet,” the radio show host’s voice buzzes from the speakers. Caleb smirks, taking another prideful drag from the stick of tobacco.

“Oh yeah?” the co-host adds. “That’ll either be a whole lot of trouble for them or they’ll win back to back championships!” The hosts laugh. Caleb’s smile fades. He turns it off with a forceful push of the button. The car tilts on its side as he turns into a nearby parking lot.

The Skyhaven Fleet’s arena is owned by Ever so, of course, it’s named Ever Stadium. The bright blue letters illuminate the night and the low hanging clouds. Caleb’s Jeep slips and slides on the snow, eventually parking crooked and across multiple spaces.

He crawls into the backseat, tilting back the seats as much as he can. The windows fog from the heat of the car, the smoke from his cigarettes sticking to the humid glass. Caleb looks out the window and at the stadium, a scowl on his face. Ads flash by the large screens on the outside of the building. The arena promotes the upcoming playoffs as well as other winter sporting events that are held inside, such as figure skating, curling, and speed skating. He is just about to turn away when two familiar faces appear on the screen.

You and Zayne stand on either side of a luxury brand car. A sly smirk is on your face while Zayne’s remains stoic, making him appear as some stone-faced athlete while you remain the innocent ex-figure skater. In the video, the two of you walk around the car and you slip into Zayne’s arms, resting your head against his chest.

Caleb can’t help but laugh. A tinge of jealousy coats his lungs, his breaths now feeling heavy as he inhales and exhales. He grabs a dirty hoodie that sits on the floor of his car, balling it up and placing it behind his head.

If only the world knew, he thinks to himself, if only they knew what you two were like behind closed doors.

2 - 1

The Skyhaven Fleet are still up by a point, Caleb having scored both goals back to back, but your husband, Zayne, managed to sneak in a slap shot just under the ten minute mark. You smiled for him, clapping as he skated by, needing your validation. When Caleb glides by, your smile falls and your breathing quickens, trying to hide it before your husband can notice.

They circle around the rink as the cheers from the crowd die down. Zayne smiles and waves to some fans in the crowd as they chant his name. Whenever his gaze passes over Caleb, his smile turns sinister, competitive. He smirks as he approaches the center of the rink. Caleb follows suit, gripping his hockey stick like the world depends on it.

“I’m glad to see that you still got some talent left to give,” Caleb remarks when they lean down, ready to intercept the puck. Zayne rolls his eyes in response, not ready to dignify Caleb’s childlike behavior…yet. Caleb inches closer, the sharpened edges of his blades burying deeper and deeper into the icy surface.

The puck drops, clattering against the ice. Zayne goes for the puck, slapping it to his teammate from behind. Caleb, on the other hand, hits his stick against the other man’s hands. Zayne hisses, Caleb quickly skating after the puck to follow the play. Zayne shakes his head, anger boiling inside his chest.

The tips of his ears turn red. The slender man shoots after Caleb, immediately falling in sync with his movement. 

The crowd begins to turn rowdy, yelling “Fight! Fight! Fight!” as Zayne draws closer to Caleb. The Skyhaven player is too focused on the puck, purple eyes following the black speck as it speeds across the ice, to notice Zayne coming from behind him.

Zayne tosses his hockey stick to the side, helmet coming off. Caleb turns around when he hears the crowd scream their names. When he sees Zayne flick off his gloves, fists balled up, Caleb smirks, beginning to shed himself of his gloves and helmet as well. And the fight? It just so happens to blossom in front of you. Your lips tug down into a dissatisfied frown. Zayne’s disheveled black locks poke out whereas Caleb’s hair is slick from his sweat, staying down on his head.

Zayne is the first one to throw a punch. His fist connects with Caleb’s jaw. Caleb snatches a fistful of Zayne’s jersey, bringing the man closer to him. Their fists blur in a flurry of blows and they spin and slip on the ice alongside each other. Caleb throws Zayne to the ground but he pulls him with him. The referees finally jump in and throw them away from each other. Zayne slides across the ice, his back hitting the wall where you sit.

He gets up with the help of his teammates, nose bloody. The warm liquid freely flows from his nose, his once perfect bridge now skewed. Zayne turns to you, eyes wide, begging for you to give him something, anything, to let him know that you’re on his side.

Your expression remains still. It doesn’t falter or move, not even a twitch of your muscles is enough to make you react. Fans of the Fleet from all around you call and chant your name, taunting Zayne. You turn your attention elsewhere, watching as Caleb comes into a view. He throws his hair back, out of his face. He picks up his gloves and stick with ease, his purple eyes finding yours in the crowd. Zayne follows your gaze. He watches as Caleb winks at you, his head shooting back to see how you react.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Your fingers pick at the skin around your perfectly manicured nails, threatening to destroy the perfect image you have made for yourself. You look back up and both men  have their eyes trained on you. Your heart skips a beat.

The horn blows, signaling the end of the first period.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 i love seeing what y'all have to say! <3

[magicaldancer5678]

The Winx girls in outfits from TWICE'S Like Ooh Aah era

My two current hyperfixations collide into this idea and I have gone down a rabbit hole on Pintrest looking at the different eras from Twice and seeing what I think each of the Winx gals would wear

(Just be extra clear these images are from Pinterest, i don't own any of them)

Bloom:

I saw the denim jacket and instantly thought of Bloom. Idk why but I just associate Bloom with denim. The simple white top is cute and the shade of blue in the skirt is very much in Bloom's colors. The plaid design is also cute.

Stella:

So I picked this one because of it being a matching set. I think Stella is the type to rock the matching look. I would actually keep it in the black for Stella and instead of it being with white paint splatter design I would change it to be sparkles. It would be giving night sky you know? Kind of a more mature look Stella would wear maybe around season 3 (my hc that she explores her moon powers more around that time)

Flora:

This one could be a stretch i know, i also promise that's its the last Sana outfit here (her fits just worked better for the first 3 girlies) Anyways, what sold this as Flora to me was the white lacey top. I can't really tell if its flowers or not but either way I think Flora would wear lacey things. As for the black top and skirt, I don't think she would go that dark, maybe if it was a forest green it would work and instead of the white text have it be some kind of flowers or leaves. But the silhouette and shape of the fit is what makes Flora-esque to me.

Aisha:

Right away I knew this was Aisha. No notes its perfect. I'm pretty sure in season 2 Aisha has a look where its a cropped tank and green cargo pants, so this is pretty much the irl version of it. Again this would be a 10/10 on Aisha

Musa:

It's cute but not overly feminine for our tomboy Musa. When I picture Musa in skirts this is what i think of, not the monstrosity of s4. I think Musa is one of the few girls of the group to wear blacks and greys and the plaid skirt just makes sense to me.

Tecna:

Okay okay again hear me out on this one. The color scheme is totally wrong for Tecna but the sweater itself matches her vibes. I love the color blocking, it adds a geometric element that I think suits Tecna. Rather than the reds, blues, and muted green, i was picturing more of a muted magenta, a darker emerald green and maybe like an icy/off-white blue. The leather bottoms are fine as is. Overall, I see this as a fit Tecna would wear for a casual party (like the one in s1 before the minotaur)

So yeah if you stuck around for this long thanks for reading my rambles. I am not a fashion expert so the vocabulary in describing clothes is probably off. Umm let me know if I should I make this series and post for the other eras 😅

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

Dead Boy Detectives x Slugterra Crossover

i promised i would and ive only just gotten enough time to post it here lmao. this post is just gonna be the boys, since i've got the most info on them but i would be overjoyed to post the rest of what i have. so, without further ado, enjoy this mess of my special interests and hyperfixations colliding. (DBD folks if you need reference help, click here)

Character Backstories

Edwin’s Story

His parents were never particularly attentive or caring. Neither of them paid him any kind of attention. He spent most days on his own. Most of them he spent in a library or the wild, learning as much as he possibly could to satiate his curiosity. He found a love for magic and myths, even more so relating to the Shadow Clan. So, he had adventures to try and find any place relating to the Clan. On one such adventure, he stumbled across a group of hunters prowling the woods. He heard them muttering about finding the Enigmo that had been spotted and he immediately perked up. He knew all about the Enigmo, but he also knew what the hunters would do if they found it. So he sprinted around the woods, keeping his keen eyes peeled for a flash of turquoise. And he found it. As it fell from high above him and hit him at velocity. The blurring of his vision frightened him, but he grabbed the slug and tucked it into his pocket. As he snuck out of the forest, he noticed colors surrounding the slugs of the hunters. He realized that he was seeing their auras, an idea he’d found during his many hours of research. Thankfully, the bullies at his school had taught him how to be stealthy, even with doubled vision. He used one of his father’s spare blasters to fire the Enigmo and undo his vision. The slug was affectionate, if slightly clumsy. It was a welcome change to his parents’ uncaring attitude. He named his new companion Thoth, the god of knowledge. A year or so later, he would meet Charles. They became immediate friends, always sharing their ideas and days, a pattern they continued into adulthood. 

Charles’ Story

As a boy, his father was abusive. He was allowed nothing. Even when the other boys his age were befriending and collecting their first slugs, he was forbidden it. One day, his father locked him out for some reason or another. With a bruise on his face, he wandered around to waste time until he could return home. He met an Armashelt. She stuck to him, even when he tried to tell her that he was just a failure. They became fast friends. When he did eventually return home, his father threw his new friend out and slammed the door. During the night, however, she snuck back in through his window. Time and again, his father threw her out and time and again, she snuck back in. However, he never truly had a chance to name her. One day, his father was in a drunken rage and Charles ran away. Out in the forest, the young boy met Edwin. Despite their differences, they became best friends immediately. When Edwin spotted the Armashelt, he asked her name. Charles was sad to say she didn’t have one. So they discussed it. When asked what he liked about her, he said that he admired how she was a shield in many ways. The few times she had met velocity was when the other boys were bullying him. When velocimorphs flew at him, she had dug in her claws and used her shell to shield him. Edwin suggested the name Aegis, the shield of the gods, and Charles thought it was brills. The two would often sneak away together, staying friends into adulthood.

Character Info

Edwin

Uses strategic/magic type slugs

Knows Shadow Clan Language, loves researching their history and magic

Main is an Enigmo named Thoth 

Works as a researcher, rarely seen outside of his home or Shadow Territory

Charles

Uses heavy hitters like Rammstone, Hoprock, Tazerling

Main is an Armashelt named Aegis

Works with blaster and Mecha customization and repair

Other Information

The boys have Frightgeist siblings they bonded with together

They boys made accelerators and fusion models together

Standard Teams (plus pics for the uninitiated) (no megas for this post but they do get them)

Edwin

Enigmo (Main)

Frightgeist

Geoshard

Arachnet

Slicksilver

White Boon Doc

Charles

Armashelt (Main)

Frightgeist

Forgesmelter

Rammstone

Hop Rock

Tazerling

i am cooking up a way to imitate edwin's hell story but this the basics so far. honestly, its so much fun to get back into this show so i might have to rewatch a bit for nostalgia. so, if my DBD people havent watched slugterra, you should! and if slugterra peeps havent watched DBD, you should do that too!!

[valeisaslut]

i love collide so much. i'm completely drawn to the dynamic between ellie and the reader. it's become a full-blown hyperfixation LMAO. i keep rereading it and it still hits just as deeply every time.

i've been listening to both ellie's and the reader's albums, and what really gets me is how they're speaking to each other through their lyrics. and the wildest part? they "wrote" those songs without ever hearing each other's. completely unintentional. and still.... some of the lyrics align.

and yes, i know it was planned by you!! but still i think it's so beautiful for both of them. even across distance, their souls were already reaching for each other, like some part of them knew without ever being told, that they were always meant to be in conversation. singing the same story just from different ends of the night. stop it feels soooo cosmic. love how you tell the story btw <33

oh my godddd baby this is exactly it. exactly it. the idea that they were writing toward each other without knowing. like two lighthouses trying to guide each other home across different oceans. it’s what makes the music so devastating — not because they heard the other’s voice, but because they didn’t have to. it was already inside them.

i think the most romantic thing in the entire universe is unintentional alignment. ellie writing about “i will love you until the day i die” in some torn-up page in jackson, while reader is halfway across the world singing about how “i didn’t really lose you, i just lost it for a while.” like. shut up. souls in sync even when everything else is broken.

thank you for seeing the story that way — like a conversation. it is a cosmic love story, and i’m so happy it found you. <3

[craving-for-chaos]

Hi- I may or may or may not have gone down a rabbit hole scrolling through your page to binge your fics… but then saw you bookmarked an Epic the Musical fic… so now I gotta ask- if you could assign a song from that musical to each of your fav valorant agents… what songs would they get? 👀

OOOOHHOHOHOHOHO I hope you're ready for a whole essay, including lyrics analysis along with character analysis because I have thought FAR too hard about this. Also some of them have two songs because I'm indecisive lmao. (Technically you didn't ask for explanations but I'm going to provide them anyway. Hyperfixations are colliding and I must ramble 😭)

Viper - Monster or Six Hundred Strike (SPECIFICALLY the part where Ody is stabbing the fuck out of Poseidon)

Viper's whole character, at least canonically, is about shedding all "unnecessary" parts of herself in her pursuit of revenge, right? And it's also heavily implied that she's lost a lot of very valuable things and/or people, which is what gave her this mentality in the first place. So I think that Monster fits her really well, considering it's Ody's tipping point of sorts where he finally commits to becoming a monster and doing away with mercy. These lyrics in particular seem very Viper to me:

"How did suffering become so endless? How am I to reunite with my estranged? Do I need to change?" "If I became the monster, And threw that guilt away, Would that make us stronger? Would it keep our foes at bay?" "Oh, ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, And deep down I know this well" "Then I'll become the monster, I will deal the blow And I'll become the monster like none they've ever known”

As for Six Hundred Strike—first of all, getting revenge on someone who's been tormenting you for 10 years by torturing them with their own weapon seems VERY Viper-esque to me. But also, a lot of her voicelines and general attitude remind me of Odysseus' mindset during this song, for example:

"I am your monster. You made me this way, never forget that." "You should've begged sooner." And "You wanted a villain? I gave you a villain!"

And these lyrics in particular remind me of her:

"Look what you turned me into Look what we've become All of the pain that I've been through Haven't I suffered enough?" "Didn't you say that ruthlessness was mercy upon ourselves—?”

Sage - We’ll Be Fine or The Challenge

Sage as a character takes on WAY more responsibility than she should. Like, to an unhealthy degree. I feel like that really matches Athena's mindset in We'll Be Fine, as well as the theme of reconciliation with an old friend reminding me of Sage's implied rocky past with Viper. Plus, I just think that Telemachus (very optimistic, nearly to the point of naivety) and Athena (more practical, cautious, and capable) both represent different aspects of Sage's personality well. These lyrics in particular remind me of Sage:

"Maybe if I'd made a different call Maybe if I hadn't missed it all Maybe he'd be fine" "Maybe if I helped you reach your goal, Life could be that bright, I could sleep at night" "Maybe to fall is to learn one way, Maybe it's all going to turn out great I know we'll be fine”

And I just think that The Challenge (and Penelope's character in general) really fit Sage. Penelope isn't a damsel in distress—yes, she's stuck in a shitty situation, but she's still taking control of it. She won't yield to the suitors, and she's extremely faithful, smart, and capable, just like Sage :)

Clove - Keep Your Friends Close

This one isn't quite as deep lol. I just think that Aeolus' combined whimsical and ominous demeanor is SUPER fitting for Clove.

Fade - Get in the Water or Puppeteer

Even though Riot hasn't mentioned it in a hot minute, the whole reason Fade joined the VP is because she was looking for a loved one and she thought that the VP either had him or knew about him, hence the whole blackmailing situation. And obviously in Epic, Poseidon is trying to get revenge on Ody for hurting his son, so I think that sort of 'hurting you because you hurt someone I love' motivation fits with her character.

Also, I think that Poseidon's whole 'Do what I want and kill yourself or I'm going to murder everyone you love' attitude, as well as the whole "Maybe you could forgive me...?" "No." exchange in this song is quite fitting for Fade.

Deadlock - Remember Them

I feel like the theme of the first half of this song would really resonate with Deadlock, what with her being the sole survivor of the Ståljegers. It's clear she cared about them very deeply, and I think the lyrics:

"For the fallen and afraid, We are not to let them die in vain Remember them We're the ones who carry on The flames of those who've gone And our comrades will not die in vain”

Communicate her attitude about their deaths really well, especially knowing how she reacted to Sage offering to heal her arm. Here's a snippet of that voicemail if you haven't heard it (Sage is the one speaking):

"I, hoping to help, offered again to return her arm to its previous state. After a pause, Deadlock just raised her arm and said, ‘Take this away, and everything they gave would have been for nothing.’"

Well. That's all, thanks for coming to my TEDtalk! Seriously though, thanks for the ask lmao, I'm glad you're enjoying my fics, and I hope my answers were satisfactory :)

[waytooobsessedwithmcyt]

*stumbles in, bleeding from multiple stab wounds* c-can you yap about your AUs?

Seriously tho, I wanna hear what you have to sayyyy

I would literally wake up from being dead if someone asked me to talk about my aus

I'm constantly trying to pair the ESMP characters onto my other hyperfixations and right now I'm thinking about PJO so you can have my ramblings about that

Gem and Fwhip are Athena cabin, Fwhip's technically the head but Gem's basically in charge, they're twins in this au too so they're full siblings

Pearl is Demeter, but she's also descended from Aries, she's the sole reason everyone wants Demeter's cabin on their team for capture the flag

Sausage is Hermes kid because 1. He had a son named Hermes in s2 and it's just funny and 2. He'd totally betray the gods

Scott and Xornoth are Unclaimed but very powerful demigods, honestly everyone is hoping they never get claimed because they do not want to see their fights once they have actual training, they're full siblings

Joey and Shrub are both in the Iris cabin, honestly Joey's kind of pissed about it and like in Chalice of The Gods, Iris really wants him to like her so she keeps sending him really colorful gifts. Shrub started out at camp before being recruited to the Hunters of Artemis

Katherine is a flower nymph and the reason that Shrub was hesitant about joining the hunters of Artemis, Katherine also mildly scares the other campers because she cut a monster's head off just for stepping on her flowers

Jimmy and Lizzie are in the Poseidon cabin, but Lizzie is also half naaid, they are not full siblings but they were raised together

Pix is the pizzia delivery driver Apollo ordered that got lost by the border, as soon as he stepped inside, he got claimed by Hermes

Joel is a son of Aries and a nymph, he definitely shares his father's feminism and violent nature, unfortunately those two things often collide and he ends up killing campers who insult Lizzie

[kjiscrawlingbackformore]

oh my glob pjo x yj au ??? SIGN ME UP ! that’s literally my two worlds colliding, literally my childhood hyperfixation and my current one 😭 what’re u thinking abt it? jackie as percy is so 🙂‍↕️ her being the ‘normal’ one thrown into a wildly different situation than she’s used to? sounds like her

- 🦦

OMG I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS 😭 16 year old Jackie thrusted into this insane world, reader who has been at the camp for years is kinda tasked with showing her around the camp. Or maybe reader in the middle of a quest and runs into jackie who can see the monsters and reader just has a gut feeling about jackie then sure enough takes her to camp and she gets claimed by like aphrodite or something 😭

Lottie as the oracle of delphi, Nat as the head of hermes cabin, Shauna being a child of athena (or aries) LOWKEY COULD SEE BOTH FOR TAI TOO idk so many thoughts 😭 (could see tai as the head praetor for camp jupiter tho)

I just keep seeing pjo content on my dash and it’s making me think about that world a lot 😭 even like having reader just bringing Jackie with her on the quest bc she can’t just leave this random lil pretty girl in the middle of nowhere 😭 IT COULD BE FUN TO WRITE

[what-gs-watching]

If you wanna break my cold, cold heart...

It’s become very clear to me that I’m extremely lost in The Tortured Poet’s Department which I absolutely expected and it’s no fucking wonder my two hyperfixations are colliding. Because after ugly crying through it the first few handful of times about my own life, I’m now just telegraphing that emotion onto a tv character, which is super healthy. 

Seriously though,  is anyone else imagining Crowley somehow becoming obsessed with this album  while he’s still trying to work through Aziraphale fucking off back to heaven?! Baby girl full on alternately sobbing and manically laughing  in the back of the Bentley while Taylor Swift makes him feel hella seen? Compiling his own playlist of the tracks that just strip him raw?

Which, in my mind, have got to be - 

“Down Bad”

For a moment I knew cosmic love… / Now I’m down bad, crying at the gym / Everything comes out teenage petulance / Fuck it if I can’t have him. / I might just die, it would make no difference. / Down bad waking up in blood / Staring at the sky, come back and pick me up / Fuck it if I can’t have us / I might not just get up, I might stay down bad…

Obvi the go-to track when he just wants to wallow in it. Just like drowning his sorrows in that pub after the angel was discorporated during the first Armageddon, ‘fuck it if I can’t have us’. Hard Crowley vibes.

“My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys”

There was a litany of reasons why / We could've played for keeps this time / I know I'm just repeating myself / Put me back on my shelf / But first - pull the string / And I'll tell you that he runs / Because he loves me. / Cause you should've seen him / When he first saw me…

My boy only breaks his favorite toys / I'm queen of sand castles he destroys / Cause I knew too much / There was danger in the heat of my touch / He saw forever so he smashed it up / Oh, my boy only breaks his favorite toys

I feel like this is their entire relationship; Aziraphale keeps him at arm’s length because it’s fucking dangerous but Crowley gets destroyed everytime.  ‘He runs because he loves me’ - what a devastating thought. They both do, gang, and that’s so sad.

“So Long London”

And you say I abandoned the ship / But I was going down with it / My white knuckle dying grip / Holding tight to your quiet resentment and / My friends said it isn't right to be scared / Every day of a love affair / Every breath feels like rarest air / When you're not sure if he wants to be there

So how much sad did you think I had / Did you think I had in me? / How much tragedy? / Just how low did you think I'd go? / Before I'd self-implode / Before I'd have to go be free

This one has gotta be for those times that he’s ready to fight back a little bit, and feels pissed about how much he tried to keep their shit together. Aziraphale thinks he gave up, he thinks Aziraphale gave up, and sometimes he thinks about fucking off from London too. But he won’t. Hopefully?

“Guilty As Sin?”

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh / Only in my mind? / One slip and falling back into the hedge maze / Oh what a way to die / I keep recalling things we never did / Messy top lip kiss / How I long for our trysts / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?

These fatal fantasies / Giving way to labored breath / Taking all of me / We've already done it in my head / If it's make believe / Why does it feel like a vow / We'll both uphold somehow?

What if I roll the stone away? / They're gonna crucify me anyway / What if the way you hold me / Is actually what's holy? / If long suffering propriety / Is what they want from me / They don't know how you've haunted me / So stunningly / I choose you and me … Religiously

Baby needs a song about longing. 6,000 years of longing. And uncertainty about whatever they are.  This one screaaaams Crowley’s questions about the group of the two of them. It’s so painful. Also, you know, the whole ‘sin’ thing. They spent so much time never touching, but y’all know Crowley feels that guilt anyway. Oof. 

ALSO, you know Aziraphale would be wrecked by this one too. I feel like the worst part about the two of them is they're both suffering the same thing, in agonizingly similar ways. They're both carrying that horrible guilt. It's gutwrenching.

“loml”

Oh, what a valiant roar / What a bland goodbye / The coward claimed he was a lion / I'm combing through the braids of lies / "I'll never leave" … / "Never mind" / Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire / Your arson's match your somber eyes / And I'll still see it until I die / You're the loss of my life

More sadness about Aziraphale’s departure. What a shit way to end things, what a cowardly path he took (in Crowley’s mind) after poor Crowley tried his absolute-fuckin’-best to put his heart on the line. Definitely 'the loss of my life.'

“The Black Dog”

Old habits die screaming / I move through the world with the heartbroken / My longings stay unspoken / And I may never open up the way I did for you / And all of those best laid plans / You said I needed a brave man / Then proceeded to play him / Until I believed it too / And it kills me / I just don't understand

Now I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes / And hire a priest to come and exorcize my demons / Even if I die screaming / And I hope you hear it

This one is definitely for those times when Crowley wants to scour Aziraphale from his existence but yo, a habit built over literally ALL OF TIME isn’t going to die just screaming. If it can even die at all. 

“Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus”

You said some things that I can't unabsorb / You turned me into an idea of sorts / You needed me, but you needed drugs more / And I couldn't watch it happen / I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools / Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules / All to outrun my desertion of you / And you just watched it

If you wanna break my cold, cold heart / Just say, "I loved you the way that you were" / If you wanna tear my world apart / Just say you've always wondered

Ya know our boy has guilt over letting Aziraphale go where he absolutely could not follow, and I feel like he’d probably spend a bunch of time trying to change a ton of things in his life  just to avoid ‘the desertion of you’ but yooo, what cuts right to the core is ‘I love you the way that you were.’  All this poor demon wanted to hear, wants to hear. 

“How Did it End?”

​​We were blind to unforeseen circumstances / We learn the right steps to different dances / And fell victim to interlopers' glances / Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?

It's happenin' again / How did it end? / I can't pretend like I understand / How did it end?

Definitely another one for wallowing. Have I found myself screeching out ‘how did it end?!’ everytime it comes up? Yes. And I feel like a drunk Crowley would too. ‘It’s happening again’ would definitely hit home to him, how many times have they been through this? 

“The Prophecy”

But I looked to the sky and said / Please / I've been on my knees / Change the prophecy / Don't want money / Just someone who wants my company / Let it once be me / Who do I have to speak to / About if they can redo / The prophecy?

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate / No sign of soulmates / I'm just a paperweight / In shades of greige / Spending my last coin so someone will tell me / It'll be ok / Please

At some point it’s likely he figures out all of this was definitely always going to happen, right? Little snake has always been at the whims of the inevitable (ineffable), and all he ever tried to do was make his own choices but he’s stuck in circumstances he absolutely cannot change. This one is all about pleading. Bargaining phase, you know. But ‘just someone who wants my company’ absolutely kills me. Somebody tell this demon it’ll be okay.

And so yeah I’m imagining the Thin Dark Duke is just playing ALL of those on repeat forever, until he finally gets to this place: 

“Imgonnagetyouback”

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or / Gonna smash up your bike, I / Haven't decided yet / But I'm gonna get you back

I  hear the whispers in your eyes / I'll make you wanna think twice / You'll find that you were never not mine / You're mine

Bygones will be bygone eras fadin' into gray / We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game / Told my friends, "I hate you but I love you just the same" / Pick your poison, babe / I'm poison either way

Because you know it’s SO Crowley to be absolutely fucking furious at the end of it all, but resolved to get Aziraphale back under any circumstances. I love him running around with the energy of ‘Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet’ but he IS resolute in seeing his stupid angel again. This is as positive as he’s gonna get, and I love that for him. 

Did I spend way too much time writing this out for absolutely no reason? Yes. But gang, I have to believe Taylor Swift can reach anyone, even ethereal entities. Joiiiiin the Tortured Poet’s Department, Crowley, you know you want to…

[cranberrymoons]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @steventhusiast a billion years ago and more recently by @thefreakandthehair and @just-my-latest-hyperfixation🥰

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 49 under my current account, there are some fics for other fandoms buried deep within the depths of the archive which we WILL NOT DISCUSS at this time

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 128,515

3. What fandoms do you write for? currently just stranger things! I wrote one fic for Crazyhead this summer, a single-season Netflix show from 2016 (?) and that fic has 6 hits 😎 I'm also considering writing a top gun fic (entirely your fault @urmomsonfire) (affectionate) but no promises yet

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

get it off your chest

can't start a fire

so fondly today

something so pretty

i carry this feeling

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? yes!! I always respond to comments, even though it sometimes takes me a week or two. comments are genuinely so special to me and my FAVORITE thing is when someone reads a bunch of my fics in a row and I can follow their comment trail 🥹 I love comments

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I'm a happy endings girlie all the way, I genuinely don't have an answer for this 😅

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? so many of my fics are fluff-fest so I'm not really sure. maybe i carry this feeling because it's (currently) the end to a long future fic series and feels like a good buttoning-up of that story which is still being added to

8. Do you get hate on fics? someone once called me transphobic for having steve paint his nails in a fic (??) but that turned out to be a random anon from that twitter meltdown that was happening over the summer (i am not on twitter and didn't know it was even happening until after the fact)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? LMAO (yes, i write lots of fluffy goofy smut with feelings. if they're not talking and/or laughing a lot during sex, it's not a sage fic)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? no, I really struggle with the concept of crossovers in general. I don't read them usually and wouldn't really know how to begin to write one! but fics set IN the universe of something else (not a crossover where two different universe's characters interact) – I like those.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that I know of in this fandom

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? yes! but not in this fandom

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no, but I would definitely be interested if it was with the right person!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I can't answer this 🫣 I will say steddie is the ship I've written the most words for

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I'm not sure I really have one that's out there right now. there are a few things in my google docs that might not see the light of day

16. What are your writing strengths? dialogue! good communication is so important to meeee and I have so much fun writing it

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I always feel like I struggle with scene-setting/imagery because I focus so much on character interaction

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've written French dialogue in fics before (not in this fandom) which made sense situationally. I think it works as long as you make sure to translate in end notes and/or through context clues, so the reader doesn't have to keep jumping back and forth between google translate

19. First fandom you wrote for? early 00s, the wizards who must not be named

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? this changes depending on my mood tbh. my usual answer is either so fondly today because I love the energy of that fic or back in the new york groove which has so much pulled from my own life. I also had a lot of fun writing wanna help my worlds collide

no pressure 😇 @urmomsonfire @wynnyfryd @thisapplepielife @shares-a-vest

[elizasidepiece]

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE

under the cut I'm going to include some minor versions of a few of my brain vomits for why I think these songs fit (only a few I don't want to make a massive post no one else will read lololol) so uhhhh read on if you want to see the result of two major hyperfixations colliding!!!!

Say Don't Go - Taylor Swift

first off may I say MISS SWIFT WHAT A BANGER!!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU KEPT THIS FROM US!!!!!! one of the best songs on 1989 but that's a long post for another day

second, to me this is from Tonks' perspective. specifically the two moments when she feels most betrayed by remus: when he turns her down in the hospital wing in front of everyone, and when he walks out on her after finding out she's pregnant

"I've know it from the very start, we're a shot in the darkest dark"

Then we get to the chorus, which I can only imagine fits in right as Remus has walked out to go try and join Harry on his quest

"Why'd you have to lead me on, why'd you have to twist the knife, walk away and leave me bleeding? / Why'd you whisper in the dark just to leave me in the night, now your silence has me screaming" Why did you let me believe you had fallen in love with me? Why did you get married to me and make a vow that we would stick by each other no matter the trial, only to abandon me when times got hard?

The second part of the chorus says "I would stay forever if you say Don't Go". I can perfectly imagine Tonks feeling like she's ready to drop this relationship and give up. She tried for too long to get him to see reason, what's the point of continuing to fight a losing battle? But....if he came back, she would take him.

THEEEENNNNN THE BRIDGE THIS IS THE PART THAT MAKES ME THE MOST FERAL

"Why'd you have to make me want you/give me nothing back/ make me love you...I said I love you, you say nothing back" GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD

(During the pause after this line I can just imagine an edit or something of Tonks dropping that "if you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself you would know who I'd fallen in love with" line before the music starts back up again, a la a certain 2019 Little Women edit on tiktok that has since been deleted, but iykyk)

2. mirrorball - Taylor Swift

this one. is not a remadora song. it is just a Tonks song to me

HOWEVER

I need to talk about it I feel legitimately distraught over this

"I want you to know I'm a mirrorball, I can change everything about me to fit in"

right off the bat we know this song is about identity. not feeling like you know your "true self", and that you change based on circumstance and situation and present company

a mirrorball (a disco ball, for the uninformed) is not its own thing. it's just a warped reflection of it's environment

I imagine as both a metamorphmagus and a woman Tonks suffered from some sort of self-image issue as she was growing up. When we meet her in the series she's a self assured young woman who knows who she is and doesn't care how others perceive her, but people who become that in their adult years weren't always that way. They had to go through times of internal and

"You are not like the regulars ... drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten" as metamorphmagi are very rare, Tonks has been a subject of intrigue by everyone who has come across her. I read in a fic once that when she was little researches tried to "borrow" her from her parents in order to study her, since little is known about them and their abilities. this has since become canon to me.

Remus, to my knowledge, has

"I'm still a believer and I don't know why / I've never been a natural, all I do is try" and "I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me" I love a girl that is aware of her anxieties and need to be loved and adored and tries so hard to be effortless <3333 she's so me

I think that's why I like Tonks so much. I see a lot of myself in her

I also see a lot of myself in this song. it was my most listened to song in 2023 LOLOLOLOLLLLLLL

3. slut! - Taylor Swift

"flamingo pink" omg first line talks about her hair color 💕

this song to me fits more as an observation of the general fandom's opinion on Tonks as a character

specifically the BANGER line

"everyone wants him, that was my crime / wrong place at the right time"

ie, Tonks often gets brushed aside in favor of the favorited mlm ship, Wolfstar

and dont get me wrong. I like wolfstar! I think it's fun in the context of au's and canon divergents!

but. it's not canon and some people need to get over that LMAO

my personal "canon compliant" view of wolfstar is they were a thing towards the end of their Hogwarts years / the first war, but it all fell apart after the events of the war / Halloween, 1981. then after sirius escaped and they were both part of the order they realized it wasn't going to work out, and they had bigger fish to fry and other trauma to work through, and during this time remus starting developing a crush on Tonks (bi4bi is my head canon) but shoving it aside

anyway back to the lyrics

"in a world of boys he's a gentleman" aww <3

isn't that a great lyric? I feel like it fits remus really well

he's a gentleman :)

"you're not saying you're in love with me, but you were going to"

people hate on Tonks for being so up front about her feelings for Remus and "nagging" him into a relationship, but honestly I love her for it

other than that being a gross intentional misinterpretation of her character and the situation, in general we need more characters that wear their hearts on their sleeves and are emotionally intelligent to know how other people feel and work to make their combined desires a reality

4. ballad of a homeschooled girl - Olivia Rodrigo

ummm once again another Tonks song ❤️ im not sorry

obligatory no Tonks wasn't homeschooled BUT she went to a boarding school and some may say that was worse

but really, this song continues the theme of self-identity and trying to find out who YOU are in the context of your environment

"I broke a glass, I tripped and fell, I told secrets I shouldn't tell / I stumbled over all my words, I made it weird, made it worse" I mean come on. that is the most baseline lyric you could apply to tonks. even if you only know her character from the combined total of seven minutes she was featured in the movies, you would know this would fit her.

also I'm sorry but "talked to this hot guy, swore I was his type, guess that he was making out with boys like the whole night / everything I do is tragic, every guy I like is gay" is so funny if you're ALSO a wolfstar shipper / enjoyer (guilty as charged sorry ladies)

also this song just FEELS like something she would actually listen to. she likes more punk-rock type music and I KNOOWWWWW OR is pop and not punk-rock, but this is pop-punk-rock ok. let me have this. im making an executive decision

it's my fictional character and I get to cultivate the Spotify wrapped for her (I imagine she has the same music taste as Kat Stratford from 10 Things I Hate About You ("angry girl music of the indie rock persuasion"))

ok last one I'll talk about

5. peace - Taylor Swift

A REMUS SONG YIPEEE

this song. kills me. in the best possible way

"our coming of age has come and gone, suddenly the summer it's clear" Remus makes it very clear how much older he is than Tonks. he loves hating himself for being a cradle robber (JOKE)

summer is often used as a metaphor for adolescence, since spring is youth and infancy. he's not a young adult like Tonks, he's nearing his 40s and is very aware of it. he's left behind the "summer" of his life and is able to look back on it with clarity and perspective as he enters his "autumn", which is not something Tonks can relate to as she is still in her "summer"

"and it's just around the corner darling, 'cause it lives in me / no I could never give you peace" while the original lyric is about the negative impacts of extreme fame on personal relationships, in the context of Remus Lupin it can easily be interpreted as the underlying anxiety of his lycanthropy. His whole life revolves around it, it lives in him. he could never give her peace, as he reminds her several times

"I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best / but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me" he WANTS to be in a relationship with her, he WANTS to enjoy life with her, but the inevitable "rain" that comes with knowing him would ruin any happiness they could have together

"would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" is the closing line of the song, and gives a sense of ... not resignation, but something more hopeful. acquiescence? acceptance? unsure of the word, but yk what I mean. he's going to give it a chance, but only if she can accept that he won't be able to give her any peace.

would that be enough?

anyway!!!!! there's many more songs on that playlist, and I'll definitely keep adding to it, I just wanted to dump some of my recurring thoughts about a few of the songs where people could skim them if they want :)

Not everything applies in my opinion, BUT I do listen to "Lavender Haze" picturing Tonks venting about her relationship with Remus.

[forteafy]

Vices & Virtues | F1 Masterlist ♡ [ONGOING]

My current hyperfixation combonation between F1 & P!ATD since their breakup has lead me to write one-shots inspired by my favourite album, 'Vices and Virtues.'

This is a work in progress, and I would LOVE to know what one-shot's you'd like to see first! Please REPLY or MESSAGE me and let me know!

The Ballard of Mona List | FA14 (Assistant!Reader)

You’ve been assistant to the driving legend Fernando Alonso for three years now; there is nothing you wouldn’t do for him. When one request leaves both him and you questioning everything, what will happen to your relationship?

Let’s Kill Tonight | DR3 (Singer!Reader)

At the height of your career, you’re invited to perform at the Australian GP performance park. What you’re not aware of is the fact Red Bull’s Daniel Riccardo is quite possibly your biggest fan – not in a creepy way, more of an ‘unrequited love’ way.

Hurricane | LH44 (Royal!Reader)

Lewis Hamilton didn’t expect the highlight of his knighthood to be meeting the Princess. You didn’t expect the highlight of the knighthood to be the man leaving his phone number on a napkin. A secret relationship begins between a princess and a driver. 

Memories | LN4 (Journalist!Reader)

You've known Lando for as long as you can remember, the two of you have been inseparable. There has always been a silent promise to be together forever. Sometimes, the world can be cruel and choices inevitably have to be made for you both.

Trade Mistakes | PG10 (SingleMom!Reader)

The worst thing a parent can hear is that their child is in the emergency room. When you find out it was your ex-boyfriend, (her father) who bought them in, will your heart be able to take it?

Ready To Go | CS55 (Student!Reader)

Everybody knows how a holiday romance works; two weeks of passion before the person forgets about you the moment you land back in your home country. What happens when said person shows up on your doorstep with a bouquet of roses and two paddock passes?

Always | CL16 (Chef!Reader) [4.1K, completed]

Neither of you wanted to break up, not truly. No matter where Charles goes, who’s bed he wakes up in or how many times he sees you, he’ll never be able to move on. Will he drop everything the one day you call for help? Of course, he will. 

The Calender | GR63 (Actress!Reader)

He promised he would be there. You have always been there for George, on every single day that he needed you, and the days he didn’t think he did. Will he be able to keep his commitment and be there for the biggest night of your career?

Sarah Smiles | SV5 (Engineer!Reader) [3.3K, completed]

You and Sebastian are the same person; ultra-focused on your career and surrounded by a life built and designed especially for you. When your worlds collide, you can’t help but wanting to start letting one another in, maybe the ultimate power couple will be born out of a successful race. 

Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met…) | MV1 (Horner!Reader)

After the untimely divorce of his older brother, Christian Horner welcomes his niece to spend a summer season by his side at Red Bull Racing. Golden Boy, Max Verstappen is infatuated with the girl and wants nothing more than to put a smile back on her face. And possibly her mobile number. 

PLEASE let me know if you'd like to be tagged! I can't wait to begin writing these and releasing them all to you, let me know what ones you'd like to see! ♡

[marblemoovt]

Cowboy Riding - Simon Riley/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Porn With Plot, AFAB Reader, Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Slight Praise Kink, Slight Degradation Kink, Bathtub Sex, Pet Names (Love, Pet, Darling).

Summary:

Working two jobs to make ends meet, you keep running into a certain cowboy.

------

His words snap you out of your daze. “Tell me, love. Have you ever ridden before?” It’s a random question, but maybe this is his attempt at small talk. You search his eyes but can’t decipher the emotion they hold.

“I don’t own a horse, but I can ride one,” you reply. You can barely afford for yourself, let alone another creature. One day you’ll scrounge up enough money and get the hell out of this town. But for now, you remain stuck. Stuck pouring drinks. Stuck dealing with drunkards. Stuck bathing adult men who can’t seem to bathe themselves.

“What about a cowboy? Ever ridden one of those?”

Note:

I can't believe I finished this. I probably should have waited until after my first final, which is on the 10th, but oh well.

I'm still learning how to write smut. I struggle a lot with it because I'm so used to reading other people who write it beautifully. But you know what, if I keep writing, one of them's bound to turn out decent lol. Just pray to the rng gods.

Since this is my first fic for Ghost, I wasn't sure how to capture his character, especially since this is in a cowboy setting.

Thank you @pipops for introducing me to cowboy!ghost

Am I projecting my red dead redemption 2 hyperfixation on this? Maybe.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Bang!

The saloon doors slam open as a body flies in and collides with a table. The splintering of wood catches your attention from the bar. You set down the glass you were drying. The patrons erupt into hushed whispers as everyone cranes their heads to get a good look, but no one moves. Sighing, you walk around the counter to check if the poor soul is still alive. You knew you shouldn’t have picked up this shift, but the other bartender begged you to cover for them. Plus, there’s a nice revolver you have your eye on.

The creak of the floorboards fills the silence in the room. Upon closer inspection, the heap of debris and limbs is an unconscious, but very much alive, man. You kick his shin but receive only a groan in response. Your boss is not going to be happy about this. As you roll up your sleeves, the doors swing open, and a shadow looms over you.

“Hands off,” a gruff voice locks your body in place. Turning your head, you meet a broad chest. Huh. You crane your neck, and there’s a skeleton glaring at you. Your lips are glued shut, words trapped by an invisible seam. His eyes are dark; they remind you of coal that has been set aflame. Maybe that’s why his gaze feels scalding. Despite being autumn, the room is unbearably hot.

Without another word, the mysterious stranger picks up the unconscious man like a sack of potatoes and slings him over his shoulder. He turns to exit, but you grab his vest. He stares at you in silence. You look at the broken furniture and swallow the lump in your throat. The fear of having your pay docked pries your lips apart.

“You need to pay for that,” and you point at the heap of wood. For a second, you think you’ll end up like that man: battered and unconscious. Arms thick like tree trunks and a frame that hulks yours. You don’t stand a chance, but that’s why guns were made. You eye the shiny pair of revolvers around his waist and grimace. Let’s hope he’s a terrible shot.

The skeleton man grunts, “Later,” and leaves. The second the saloon doors click shut, the chatter resumes. The atmosphere returns to normal like nothing ever happened. You grumble and fetch a broom and dustpan, wracking your brain for an excuse to give to your boss.

Unfortunately, your boss is incredibly pissed. He doesn’t dock your pay, but damn, did you receive an earful. You rub your temples, trying to soothe the throbbing. But the shrill scream of your boss still haunts your eardrums. The only reason you keep this job is that the customers tip well, especially once you get them piss-drunk.

Exiting the saloon, you head to your next job at the inn. It’s not common for you to work two shifts in one day, but you’re short on money. You pass by the gunsmith and pause at the display window, looking in with a sigh. When you arrive, they assign you to the baths, your least favourite task. There’s just something repulsive about bathing strangers—men—who feel entitled to do as they please with you. Sometimes you get lucky, and they only require you to fetch items and set up the bath. Other times you have to tend to customers with wandering hands. And let’s just say you were relieved of your bath duties for a few weeks after shoving a bar of soap down a man’s throat—but not before breaking his hands!

The stairs creak underneath your weight, and you hug the basket of towels and soap to your chest. You silently pray that whoever is behind that door isn’t a complete asshole. You knock and hear a muffled “Come in.”

You open the door, and there’s a skeleton staring at you.

Fuck.

You close the door without a word. Should you leave? But you can’t not do your job. Another incident like last time and you could find yourself fired. It’s not like he remembers you, right? You crouch in front of the door with your head in your hands. What are you going to do?

The door swings open, and a shadow looms over you. “Are you coming in, or are you gonna dillydally?” His husky tone redirects the throbbing in your temples elsewhere, and you press your thighs together. “Either you get in, or I ask for a replacement.”

You shoot up and rush past him into the room. Wordlessly, you set your basket on the counter and check that the water in the tub isn’t too hot. Flicking the bubbles off your hand, you stand to the side and wait.

“Aren’t you gonna undress me?”

Your gaze snaps up to meet his. “What?” you sputter, blood thrumming in your veins.

He tilts his head. “Isn’t that your job?”

You pad over to him like a wary animal, watching for the first sign of danger to turn tail. His dark eyes remain fixed on you; they pull you closer to him. Your fingers graze his neck when you untie his bandanna. You take off his vest, your touch trailing along his broad shoulders. The air feels heavy, and your lungs ache from the pressure. Breathing in deeply, you hold it in before exhaling slowly. Your pulse continues to quicken. He never looks away from you. Even when you begin unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes burn into the crown of your head. You pull the fabric apart and suck in a gasp. Muscles, well-defined and chiselled, wherever your gaze wanders. An array of scars litter his body like brushstrokes, and you restrain yourself from tracing every single one with your tongue. 

Clearing your throat, you reach up a hand towards his mask. “Don’t.” The command is sharp, and it cuts through the building tension. You look at him with wide eyes. His grip on your wrist isn’t harsh. You’re more startled than anything. You didn’t even see him move. “The mask stays on,” he says, releasing you. You nod dumbly and fumble with the button on his pants, tugging the material down. All that remains are his undergarments. You swallow, and your throat feels like it’s covered in tar. You undress him, and he’s—almost—as bare as the day he was born. The words clog your throat. It’s not like you’re surprised since he’s a behemoth of a man. But holy shit is he also massive in other parts of his body.

He doesn’t say anything. You haven’t decided yet whether that’s a blessing or a curse. No command to touch him, no order to undress and join him. He walks around your dazed form and lowers himself into the tub. The water sloshes and spills over the sides. Bubbles obscure most of his body. Damn it. You grab a towel and a bar of soap from your basket. 

Standing behind him, you dip the soap in water and lather it between your hands. Then you rub his shoulders, fingers travelling along every bump and ridge of his muscles. You start a light massage, keeping in mind to use more pressure than usual. Kneading any knots you find, a low rumble purrs from his throat, and your legs press together. His head leans back, and even in the bath, he’s almost as tall as you. Your hands move down to his biceps, and you bend over to reach them. 

You take a peek at his mask and admire the white skull against the black fabric. Obsidian eyes meet yours. They steal all the air in your lungs and turn the blood in your veins into molten lava. His gaze searches your face, and there’s a rush of heat simmering beneath your skin. You blink and avert your gaze, pulling away to get the rag. Wetting the cloth, you wipe down his body. He smells like pine trees and campfires with a faint whiff of bourbon. It’s sweet and earthy—addicting. You shudder, doing your best to ignore the pulsating in your core. 

“Alright there, love?” he asks. There’s a sparkle of mischief in his eyes as he rakes them over your figure. “Promise I don’t bite. Much.” You can hear the smug grin in his tone. The pool of heat in your belly bubbles and overflows into the rest of your body. The man knows exactly what he is doing to you. 

“Fine,” you squeak, blaming your rise in temperature on the warm water and manual labour. 

“I went to pay for the table, but you weren’t there,” he says. You stop scrubbing his arms and rewet the towel, wringing it out to buy yourself more time.

“Oh?” That’s all you manage to say. Oh. No witty remark or even a complete sentence. Just oh. You bite your lip and turn to face him. Much to your surprise, his eyes aren’t black, but a deep brown. The flicker of candlelight makes them look like pools of honey. Colour does not affect their power to hold you in place. For a brief second, you wonder how they would look between your thighs. “Were you looking for me?” you whisper.

“Not at all.” And his voice is husky, rough as the gravel on the road. It leaves you raw and wanting. You drag the towel across his chest, feeling his pulse beat steadily beneath your fingertips. Your heart is thumping in your ears, twice the rate of his. Trailing down between the valley of his pecs, you wash his abdomen. It feels like you’re cleaning a statue, albeit a squishy one. You hesitate to go further. 

He stops you. “I can take it from here,” and he takes the towel. You stand back, fiddling with your fingers now that they have nothing to hold. The splash and drip of water fill the void of silence. 

“How’s that man?” you find yourself asking. “The one you carried away.”

“In jail,” he responds. Simple and short. The silence stretches. You fidget with the buttons on your sleeve, picking at them until you force yourself to stop in fear of loosening the thread.

When the quiet becomes too much, you ask another question. “Was he bad?”

He shrugs. Beads of water roll off his collarbone and down his chest. “Don’t know, don’t care. Had a pretty bounty on his head, and that’s all that matters.” Your head perks up. Bounty hunting always fascinated you, but you have neither the equipment nor the skills for it.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” You step closer to the tub, fingers grasping the metal rim.

Amusement glints in his eyes. “When I want to be.”

His answer is vague; too vague now that your interest has been peaked. “What else do you do then?” you ask, leaning forward in excitement.

There’s barely any white beneath the skull mask. You’re treading in an ocean of coffee with nothing to keep you afloat. You would risk drowning if it meant having his gaze on you for a moment longer. He examines you and cocks his head. “Do you do this with everyone you bathe, or am I an exception?”

The question catches you off guard. You can’t remember the last time you worked a bath where the company was enjoyable. “Just haven’t seen you around before, that’s all.”

He chuckles. It’s low and sinful. You know the sound will repeat in your head later tonight once you’re alone in your room. “Darling, the less you know, the better.” The pet name sends a pleasant buzz through your body. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you bolder and drunk on impulsivity.

You tilt your face forward, your nose brushing against his mask. “Why? Would you have to kill me otherwise?” You’re joking, but the look in his eyes sends a chill down your spine. And then you remember that you know nothing about this man. You don’t even know his name.

His eyes trail down to your lips, and you almost miss how his throat bobs. “Wouldn’t that be a shame,” he mumbles. He locks his gaze back onto yours, and you inch closer. Would you have kissed by now if the mask wasn’t in the way? Your lashes flutter, lips a hair away from his face. He waits for you to make a move. Your fingers dig into the wooden boards of the tub, and your lips graze cotton. At the last second, you wrench yourself away, staring at the wooden floorboards. 

Tar coats your throat once more, and the words feel like molasses on your tongue. “If you don’t need me anymore, I can head on out.” 

You’re moments away from bolting, but his stern tone stops you. “No,” then a bit softer, “stay.” You peer at his eyes and relax your shoulders.

Your lips quirk into a smile, and you mock salute. “Yes, sir. I promise to be on the lookout. No one will attack you while you’re buck naked.” You pull a stool up to the side of the tub and sit. 

He chuffs and rolls his eyes. “Ghost will do.”

“Ghost, huh? Unusual name,” you comment, introducing yourself afterwards. 

“Yeah? Well, it’s not as stupid as Soap.” You have no idea who Soap is, but you feel sorry for them. 

“Who would name their child—”

“Do you live alone?” he interrupts you.

You pause at the sudden shift in conversation. “I beg your pardon?”

“You work two jobs. No one to go home to?” And there’s that look again like he’s studying you.

You frown. “I don’t think that’s very polite of you to assume.”

He leans back and closes his eyes. “So that’s a yes, then.” You swear he’s smirking underneath that mask; he sounds too smug not to be.

You bristle, heat crawling up the nape of your neck.“Well, what about you? Got a ranch with a wife and five kids?” you snap.

He cracks open his eyes and gives you a sidelong glance. “Jealous?” he teases with a lilt in his voice. “No. I have my horse and my… brothers. That’s enough for me.”

“You don’t get lonely?” you ask.

“Never, especially not right now.” His stare is a permanent brand on your skin. You shift in your seat before getting up entirely. Grabbing the towel from him, you walk behind the tub. 

You clear your throat, and he leans forward, exposing his muscular back to you. You hold your breath and trace what looks like an old knife wound. “Where did you get this?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Like I said. The less you know, the better.” You don’t press further, cataloging each scar you come across and tucking the information into the far recesses of your mind. 

When you’re done scrubbing his back, the bubbles have dissipated. The water is cloudy from the soap, but you can see the long curve of his cock twitching. Your fingers itch to explore his shaft and trace every vein you find. 

His words snap you out of your daze. “Tell me, love. Have you ever ridden before?” It’s a random question, but maybe this is his attempt at small talk. You search his eyes but can’t decipher the emotion they hold. 

“I don’t own a horse, but I can ride one,” you reply. You can barely afford for yourself, let alone another creature. One day you’ll scrounge up enough money and get the hell out of this town. But for now, you remain stuck. Stuck pouring drinks. Stuck dealing with drunkards. Stuck bathing adult men who can’t seem to bathe themselves. 

“What about a cowboy? Ever ridden one of those?” He looks dead serious. Is this attractive man flirting with you? Your eyes flick towards the water and fuck if you thought he was big before. 

You bite your lip and walk around to his side. “Not lately,” you answer. Your fingers dip beneath the water and skim along his stomach. “Are you offering to take me on a ride?” And you’re drowning, swimming in endless depths of honey and gold. You sink deeper. Feel your blood turn to sludge as your limbs become heavy. All oxygen leaves the room when his large hands encompass yours. 

“I am. Won’t throw a fuss if you decline,” Ghost murmurs. It’s an offer, not a demand. Calluses brush against the back of your hand. You pull away and take a few steps back. He nods and places his hands on the sides of the tub. Before he can lift himself out, your clothes plop onto the ground in a pile. The soft thump draws his attention, and his irises darken. 

You preen under his appraising stare, rubbing your thighs together for relief. The air teases your nipples into stiff peaks, and you hear him swallow. His eyes follow the sway of your hips as you strut closer. 

He sucks in a breath. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” and his voice cracks with want. 

You drag a finger across his chest, feeling his muscles flex underneath your touch. Leaning into his ear, you whisper, “Is there room for one more in there?”

The groan he utters sends a spike of arousal to your core. He looks at you with blown pupils and gives his shaft a few pumps. “There’s a seat right here,” he says, and you climb into the tub to claim it. The water is lukewarm at best, but the man beneath you radiates heat. Your clit brushes against the tip of his cock, and you hiss through clenched teeth. You definitely need some preparation before attempting to take his length in you. Not only is he long, but he’s girthy too. And the thought of it splitting you apart makes you clench. You seat yourself on his thighs, his erection pressing against your stomach. His hands cup your bottom, and he kneads the soft flesh. “Gotta stretch you out first,” and his fingers spread your slick folds. Your breath hitches when he draws circles around your entrance. “Ready?” 

“Fuck yes,” you respond, aching to be filled. Ghost plunges one finger inside, and your nails dig into his shoulders. One of his fingers feels like two of yours. The slight burn fizzles when he sets a steady pace, pumping his finger in and out of you. Your hips rock to match his movements. “More,” you plead. 

A breathy chuckle rumbles from his chest. “As you wish,” and he adds another digit. Crescent moons mark his skin, and the sting spurs him on. He crooks his fingers to reach the spongy area on your walls. All your nerves short-circuit, and you beg him to do it again. So he focuses on that sweet spot, stroking until your vision becomes spotty. When the meaty part of his palm grinds against your clit, your walls spasm as your orgasm hits you like a stampede. He doesn’t stop, pistoning his fingers with deadly precision.

“No more, please,” you beg. You’re starting to become too sensitive. The pleasure is teetering on that fine line that separates it from pain. You try to wiggle away, but his other hand pins you in place.

“You can take it. I know you can,” Ghost coos, fingers seeking to coax another climax from you. You bite your lip and shake your head. Tears sting the corner of your eyes. Still riding your previous high, you’re dangerously close to that precipice. He adds a third finger, sending you careening off the edge. The second orgasm rips through you, electricity sparking through your veins and setting every nerve ablaze. This time he slows down and allows you to ride his fingers. Your hips roll, grinding against his palm, anything to add to the friction.

“Fuuuuck,” you moan, trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. You slide off his fingers and bring them to your mouth, licking them clean.

He groans at the sight. “Fucking hell, pet.” His hips jerk when you grip his cock, sliding your thumb across the tip. “Ride me,” he orders. The authoritative tone makes your stomach coil. His hands rest on your waist, fingertips bruising your hips. “Don’t be shy. Show me how well you can ride my cock.” His words are filthy, and you want him to kiss that dirty mouth of his.

You take in a shaky breath. “Yes, sir.” Aligning yourself, you sink down slowly. The stretch is incomparable to earlier. Even after three fingers, you’re still struggling to take him. He grunts and digs into your waist, thighs quivering with anticipation. There’s a delicious burn as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girthy length. He disappears into you inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Christ, you’re tight,” he spits out. You try to even your breathing. Your pulse is pounding in your ears, and you can feel him throbbing inside you. His tip kisses the entrance of your womb, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. “Alright there, love?” Your mind is unable to process his question. There’s a thick fog blanketing your head, and all you manage is a whimper. He chuckles and strokes your lower back. “You haven’t even started moving yet.”

Like a newborn foal, your legs struggle to support your weight. Using his thighs, you lift yourself up and sink back down. The sensation of his cock dragging along your walls knocks all the air out of your lungs. You’re eager to chase that feeling. You pick up the pace, finding a comfortable rhythm. The water around you sloshes, and waves form with each bounce of your hips. His hands trail up your body, and he brushes your nipples with his thumbs. He hums, admiring how they pebble from his touch. You shudder and lean into him, mewling when he tugs and twists your nipples between his fingers.

“You’re riding me so well, pet.” His praise is music to your ears. You want to hear more, want him to moan your name as you milk him for all he’s got. So your hips move quicker, slamming into him at a brutal pace. He’s consistently rubbing against your cervix, and you’ve already cum multiple times because of this. “Gonna kill me with that sweet cunt of yours,” he grunts. 

The only thought left in your mind is to feel his seed spill inside you. And when you beg him to fill you up, the look he gives you is predatory. His hands return to your waist, and he starts using you. He uses you like an object for his pleasure. His strong arms lift you before slamming you down onto his cock, and he repeats this motion. You don’t move, too cock-drunk to do anything but take what he gives you.  

All you can smell is cedar and bourbon mixed with the musk of sweat. It overwhelms you, and you don’t think you can work at the bar anymore without your arousal smouldering like the embers of a flame. A salty aftertaste remains on your tongue, and you wonder if he tastes as good as he smells. Ghost curses when you clench around him like a vice. You could listen to him make these noises forever.

He’s twitching wildly inside you, and your clit throbs alongside it. “Fuck, darling. Gonna stuff you full just like you asked. You’re filthy like that, aren’t ya? Riding a man you just met like a whore, begging him to fill you with his seed.” You clench at his words, and his amused chuckle tightens the knot in your stomach. His deft fingers find your clit and mercilessly tease the bundle of nerves. The toe-curling pleasure is too much. You’re starting to lose track of where one orgasm ends and another orgasm begins. “Again. Cum,” he commands, and your body obeys. Your vision blurs, and your heartbeat crescendoes in your ears. He’s officially ruined having sex with anyone else for you.

His hips rut into you, chasing his own high. Your walls flutter around his cock, and it throbs in response. He chants your name like a prayer, dissolving into a groan as he empties his seed inside you. Thick ropes of hot cum paint your walls. You stay seated, panting to catch your breath. His chest heaves, glistening with sweat. He admires the bulge in your stomach before gingerly unsheathing himself from you. A grimace tugs at your lips as you clench around emptiness.

Ghost steps out of the tub and dries himself with a spare towel from your basket. He gets dressed and wordlessly moves towards the door.

“Will I see you again?” you ask, clambering after him. Your knees knock together, but your grip on the tub keeps you upright. The breeze chills your wet skin, and you can barely walk. You’re worried he’ll disappear if you let him go. Like an apparition. Like a ghost.

He pauses in front of the door and looks at you over his shoulder. “Do you know how to shoot?”

“I’ve been meaning to learn—”

He interrupts you. He seems to have a habit of doing that. “Sunrise. At the lake. I’ll teach you,” and he leaves without another word.

You stagger over to your clothes and slip them on, the fabric clinging to your damp skin. When you grab the basket from the counter, you nearly drop it from the unexpected weight. Rummaging through the towels, your fingers brush against cool metal. 

Inside is the revolver you had your eye on, and engraved on the barrel is a familiar skull.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

The number of headcanons and plot bunnies that spawned from my brain is insane.

Could this be an entire series? Easily. Will I write it? Probably not. Maybe eventually.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

[flecks-of-stardust]

…Actually, one final thing, genuinely final: what you said about fandoms often going in the opposite direction of something may very well be true l, but I don't know, the only two things where I saw it so hard are Hollow Knight (where I'm always seeing goofy silly posts yet the game itself spunds really dark and nearly every Character either dies or is dead) and Bug Fables (where the game is upbeat and funny most of the time yet so many hyperfixate on the dark 10% and are mad the whole game isn't like that). Funny, because I otherwise don't find those two games nearly as comparable as their fanbases seem to act like they are.

i dunno, i've seen that in pretty much every fandom i've participated in. it's not necessarily how dark things are; i see a lot of rain world fans talking about the iterators, even though we get literally 7 lines of dialogue for some of them, and none for one. (grey wind and sliver of straw fans i see you and i adore you, keep going at it, i am looking so hard <333) and i think people just like to see the two bug worlds collide; i know i do.

i’m not sure why you keep complaining about people getting mad about the lack of dark stuff, because again, i’m not really the right person to talk to about that? i eat that shit up. and for the record, some of my issues with the narrative of bug fables don’t necessarily involve dark themes, i’m just dissatisfied with the extent of how things were explored. vi and jaune’s relationship needed much, much more time to develop and heal than was given in canon, and i focus on them a lot to give them the much needed narrative time they deserved.

and while i haven’t really browsed the tags on ao3, off the top of my head right now i would guess that the angst is around leif and kabbu a lot of the time, and both of them have went through some pretty intense loss. there... isn’t really much getting around that being angsty. it’s hard to find objective positives in active grief, and especially today, with so much going on in the world, i don’t find it surprising people want to explore grief more. there is value in silly stories, of course, but i think canon has explored a lot of the silly already, while it hasn’t for a lot of kabbu’s grief and leif’s immense loss. you can only go so far with what canon hasn’t explored and still keep it light, i think.

then again, i haven’t looked myself, so i wouldn’t really know huh. sometimes you have to be the change you want to see in the world and all.

[neon-junkie]

Neon: I have a big fat crush on Tech help me

Me: is absolutely not here to help you :3

Because instead I’m here to put into your mind the following Just Couple Things: Tech Edition

-Tech and his s/o would definitely develop their own sort of communication with each other. It doesn’t even have to be intentional or overt, if just sort of happened: They just are so in sync with one another and how they communicate that one could potentially make a singular hand gesture or say something the rest of the Batch doesn’t get, but their partner just knows precisely what they mean

-there has been at least one occurrence where Tech burned the midnight oil way too hard and basically blacked out while on his way to his bunk after being lovingly pestered by his s/o to turn in. The moment they saw that gangly fucker swaying, they yelped and practically dove beneath him to keep him from colliding too hard against the floor. When Tech came to and realized what had happened, he was horrified. And for as bruised and frazzled as the incident made them, his s/o was just glad to see that he hadn’t gotten hurt in the process. That, and because he motherhenned them afterwards, guilt-ridden that they suffered because of his carelessness

-Tech knows everything. Or, at the very least, he knows a whole kriffing lot. But if his s/o has a special interest/hyperfixation, even if he knows the subject very well, he’ll listen to them infodump. Maybe occasionally correcting them, but mostly just listens. It’s nice to see and hear someone you love be so excited about something

-given Tech’s night owl tendencies, his s/o likes to keep him company. But even if they themselves are night owls, they can really only keep up for so long. So it’s not uncommon for Tech to be in the middle of explaining whatever project he’s focused on (or even for his partner to be in the middle of talking) when suddenly he’ll feel a pressure against his shoulder. Of course: They nodded off. It’s usually in these moments that Tech decides to maybe join them and turn in for the night. But on other occasions, he opts to stay up. Just a bit longer. But that doesn’t mean he won’t take a little break to assure their comfort: He pulls a blanket they had dragged from his bunk to stay warm up as far as it will stay on them, leaning back just a bit so their head can lull either into the crook of his neck or against his chest. His own head gently following to lay on theirs for a bit…Just a bit…

Of course, that bit winds up for the rest of the night, as his brothers and sister inevitably wake up to find the two of them still asleep, cuddled against each other. In spite of the odd position and inconvenient spot they chose to sleep in, they look quite content…

oh my god... this is just... oh lord, thank you so much for sending me this. my heart. my soul. i am so SOFT!!!!!!! i cant even muster up a proper reply because i'm melting so much at this. we need more tech fluff in our lives<3

[astudyinfreewill]

hey did i ever mention that for a few days back in ye olde 2014, before s10 ever aired, i became briefly deeply obsessed with the idea of demon!dean becoming the new cain and recruiting demon!bela to be his second-in-command aka the new abaddon? i even decided i would write a multichapter fic about it but only ever published two chapters because 1) hyperfixation ran out and 2) i really didn’t think the plot through very hard other than “dean and bela being sexy narrative mirrors again except this time they’re Evil and Doing Crime for fun”. and frankly i think that was a good concept if not very well planned out!! sexier than the actual demon!dean arc we got at least!!

ANYWAY i never finished the fic but more importantly i DID make a playlist for it on 8tracks (because those were the cursed pre-spotify days) and while that playlist is also EXTREMELY 2014 i simply refuse to be embarrassed about it bc it DOES have bangers on it, and it’s, to this day,  the only spn playlist i have ever made (yes. an au demon!dean and demon!bela playlist. i don’t know either. life is wild y’all). so i’m bringing it back like a ~blast from the past~ (and YES i even made a poorly edited cover and tracklist. what was i gonna do, simply not make a cd leaflet?! it was 2014.) you’re welcome ✨

it’s 2021 babey and you can listen to the playlist here ✨

(but because spotify is ~too cool~ to list dodgy youtube remixes and i want you to have the FULL cheesy 2014 throwback experience, here is the skorge remix of “sail” and here is the glitch mob remix of “seven nation army” )

and because i was a complete floozy for lyrics even 7 years ago... you can find the extended tracklist with significant lyric snippets under the cut. enjoy besties 💕

1. Feral Love // Chelsea Wolfe

Run from the light Your eyes black like an animal Deep in the water

2. Back In Black // AC/DC

Forget the hearse, ‘cause I’ll never die I got nine lives, cat’s eyes, using every one of them and runnin’ wild 'Cause I’m back, yes I’m back, well I’m back, yes I’m back Well I’m back in black, yes I’m back in black

3. Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

Holy water cannot help you now A thousand armies couldn’t keep me out I don’t want your money, I don’t want your crown See, I’ve come to burn your kingdom down

4. Lilith // Susanne Sundfør

As you lie across the table you swear and rhyme You lie across the table, you swear and rhyme Thinking that someone might suit your body

5. Sinister Kid // The Black Keys

I’ve got a tortured mind, and my blade is sharp A bad combination in the dark

6. Heaven Knows // The Pretty Reckless

Oh, Lord, Heaven knows we belong way down below Oh, Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below Way down below, way down below

7. Small Pack of Wolves // Ramin Djawadi

(instrumental)

8. You’re Going Down // Sick Puppies

Define your meaning of 'war’ To me it’s what we do when we’re bored I feel the heat comin’ off of the blacktop And it makes me want it more

9. An I For An I // IAMX

Apocalypse and rapture signing in (An eye for an eye) If you’re not with us, you’re against (An eye for an eye)

10. Lose Control // Evanescence

Mary had a lamb, his eyes black as coals If we play very quiet, my lamb, Mary never has to know

11. Hey Man Nice Shot // Filter

Now that the smoke’s gone and the air is all clear Those who were right there got a new kind of fear

12. Sail (Skorge Remix) // Awolnation

Maybe I’m a different breed Maybe I’m not listening (Sail with me into the dark)

13. Addiction // Ramin Djawadi

(instrumental)

14. Animal I Have Become // Three Days Grace

So what if you can see the darkest side of me? No one will ever change this animal I have become

15. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark // Fall Out Boy

Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes In the end, everything collides My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

16. Problem // Natalia Kills

We're hell raising and we don’t need saving 'Cause there’s no salvation for a bad girl We’re rock bottom but there ain’t no stopping 'Cause they don’t know nothing about love We're hell raising and we don’t need saving 'Cause there’s no salvation for a bad boy We’re rock bottom but there ain’t no stopping 'Cause it’s you and me against the world

17. Smells Like Teen Spirit // Nirvana

Hello, hello, hello - how low? With the lights out it’s less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us

18. Everybody Wants To Rule The World // Lorde

Welcome to your life: there’s no turning back Even while we sleep we will find you Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on Mother Nature

19. Gotham’s Reckoning // Hans Zimmer

(instrumental)

20. Seven Nation Army (The Glitch Mob Remix) // White Stripes

Everyone knows about it From the Queen of England to the hounds of Hell

21. Iron // Woodkid

The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head The thunder of the drum dictates The rhythm of the falls, the number of deaths

22. Get Lucky // Halestorm

Like the legend of the phoenix All ends with beginnings

23. Bottom Of The River // Delta Rae

The wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight (Drunk and driven by a devil’s hunger) Drive your son like a railroad spike (Into the water, let it pull him under) Don’t you lift him, let him drown alive (The good Lord speaks like a rolling thunder)

24. Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm of The War Drums // A Perfect Circle

I’ll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons I’ll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason

25. Animals // Martin Garrix

(instrumental)

26. And The World Was Gone // Snow Ghosts

I wish you’d felt me falling I wish you’d watched over me But I blinked and the world was gone