#god how the fuck do I tag whatever the hell those two have going on

[disfrutalakia]

So from what I understand there are two types of penpals on the island now

Fred and Tubbo, who appear to trust each other (Tubbo does but Fred is a mystery) and are nice and trade flowers cause it's nice

Forever and Bad, toxic homoerotic letters where they write how much they hate each other with blood but also would kiss each other on the mouth and probably take care of the letters with their lifes

[eternalsdiary]

#HATE HOW I LOVE YOU

pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

tags: hate sex, ellie, and more ellie <3

You HATED Ellie Williams, and hate is not a light word. You hated her hair, you hated her buff yet skinny arms, you hate how her eyes would roll when you walked into a room. You hated how even though you hated her, you loved the sight of her face.

"Dina, you know I hate doing shit with her. She makes everything so miserable." You crossed your arms over your chest, sucking on the lollipop in your mouth. "Look YN, just try, please? I'll talk to her, okay?"

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Fine, I'll come but if she starts something I can't grantee I won't go off on her ass."

Soon you found yourself in a small circle with Dina, Jesses, and Ellie. "Let's have a drink." Dina suggests, standing to grab the nearby liquor on the table. "Where'd you even get this from?" You ask leaning back. "Does it matter, just drink it." Ellie speaks, glaring at you like she has been the whole time. You take a deep breath, turning toward Dina. "So, where'd you get it from."

"Just pass me the damn liquor Dina." Ellie interrupts Dina. "Ellie can you for once not be a god damn pain in the fucking ass?" You turn to her, giving her a disgusted look. "Me not be a pain in the ass and you're asking dumbass questions, let's just fucking drink." Suddenly you stand. "Okay I'm not doing this. I even tried to ignore her and still she found a way to be a bitch." Ellie stans as well. "You're callin' me a bitch? Have you seen your attitude lately love?"

You throw your hands up in defeat. "I'm leaving." Finally, Dina stands and grabs your arm. "YN no. You're gonna stay in here! You two need to do something about whatever the hell this weird ass beef is!" I roll my eyes, "I'm not going to stay here and try to make up with her, it's not like she listens." Ellie tries to rush you, but Jesse grabs her. "Okay can everyone just calm the fuck down?!"

Dina takes a deep breath. "You two are going to sit in here and you're going to fucking make up." You shake your head. "I'm not doing that shit." Ellie laughs. "Yeah right, I'm not sitting in a room with her alone." You glare at her, crossing your arms against your chest. “Dina, I swear to go-“ Dina places her hand over your mouth.

“You both are going to stay in this damn room, and you're going to make the hell up.” She fake smiles, grabbing Jesse. You chase after her, “Dina-“ She slams the door in your face and locks it. “Make. Up!” She yells.

Now you sit face to face with Ellie, the silence piercing through the room. “Look, I ain’t plannin’ to make up. So, let’s just pretend we’re cool and leave it at that.” She leans back in the most enticing way, her legs spreading the just right amount.

You struggle to keep your eyes from raining to in between her legs. “I can’t even pretend to like you.” You say rolling your eyes to look away. “You can’t pretend to like me, but you can pretend like you weren’t just staring in between my legs?” She smirks, sitting up and leaning down against her knees.

Your face heats up and you avoid eye contact. “I wasn’t ev-“ Ellie laughs, “Damn and then you lie about it? I thought you were bolder than that.” You glare at her. “You’re so cocky, you must think everyone likes looking in between your legs.” She laughs once more. “I know you do.”

She silences you.

Suddenly she stands, placing herself in front of you on the floor. “So do you wanna make up or not?” She was close, very close. Her eyes trailing down to your lips, her hands placed on your thighs. “What are you talking about?” You speak quietly from being so close.

“Let’s make up.”

After that phrase was uttered, you and Ellie’s lips collide at a fast speed. The kiss so sloppy and good it has you feeling feverish. Her rough hands sliding up your shirt, against the skin of your stomach. “You must’ve waited so long for this huh?” She says smirking against your lips.

“Just shut the fuck up.” Ellie laughs. “Shut me up.” Those words ignite a light in your belly, causing you to squeeze your legs together. “Look at you all tense, want me to help you?” She asks, placing her hands higher up your shirt. Her hands find themselves unbuckling your black bra, and you were happy you wore it.

“Must’ve known this was gonna happen huh? Wore such a pretty bra f’me?” Ellie attaches her lips to your neck, biting down softly and pulling a small sound from your lips as you jolt. “Want me to touch you? Tell me.” She waits for your response. “Yeah. I do Ellie, so just fucking do it.”

“Don’t be a bitch about it.”

Finally, you're on your back, her fingers penetrating you at a fast pace. “This feel good huh? Always talking shit, I guess this shuts you up?” She grins over you, watching your face contort from pleasure. “F-fuck! Shut the fuck u-up...!” Your back arching off the couch as she hits that one sweet spot inside you.

“Yeah? This the spot for you huh?” She places your nipple into her mouth, sucking softly. “Oh! Okayokay..!” You place your fingers into her hair, your eyes closed and filling with tears from how good you feel. “Holy-“ Ellie pulls away from the bud with a pop, saliva coating the nipple sloppily.

“Gonna cum around my fingers? Yeah?” She speeds up, your core tightening around her fingers. “I-I’m gonn-“ Ellie suddenly pulls her fingers away. You gasp, looking at her with a glare. “What the hell-“ She places her hand over your mouth. “Lay back down you big baby.”

You force yourself back down with a groan. Ellie’s mouth finds its way to your clot, sucking harshly. “Wh- AH!” Your hands going to her head as she sucks and licks at your swollen bud. Her eyes never leaving yours as she watches the tears that had built in your eyes finally fall.

“Gonna- whew! I’m gonna cum El’s!” Ellie sucks harder, just enough to make you go over the edge. The pull you have in her hair causing her to groan softly into your cunt. She licks your juices all up, not leaving a drop behind. She sits up, wiping the side of her lip and placing her finger into her mouth like she had leftover sauce from a meal.

“You taste so good YN, if I would’ve known that I’d have eaten you out sooner.” She comes close to your face, causing your face to scrunch. “I thought we made up?”

“Not even close.”

My Requests are open!

@sorrowsblogworld @sorrowsideas @tinygojo

[holllandtrash]

you know 6 to 1 yn said something about carlos’s mustache and lando threatened to grow his hair back out of playful jealousy

word count: 4.1k tags/warnings: some angst, jealousy, mentions of smut kind of part of the 6 to 1 series

carlossainz55

liked by ynleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 391,202 others

carlossainz55 off to Canada 🇨🇦 let's keep pushing

view all 1,542 comments

scuderiaferrari now that's a smoooth operator

spicysainzz its illegal for a man to look this good

ynleclerc god don't tell me you're growing out your facial hair now too

carlossainz55 you love it ynleclerc sure

“Oh so you like Carlos’ facial hair?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You didn't look up from the cutting board, already deciding that whatever Lando was on about wasn’t as important as making dinner.

“You like his facial hair,” Lando repeated, a statement this time. 

It was impossible to not give him any attention when he shoved his phone in your face. You took a breath, asking yourself what you were getting yourself into as you dropped the knife on the counter and tuned in on his screen, more specifically, at the comment you had left on Carlos’ most recent picture. 

“It’s a harmless comment,” you scoffed, knowing that your friendship with Carlos was nothing for him to worry about, yet he always seemed to be triggered by the most mundane things. 

“But you like his facial hair.”

“Are those the only words you know how to say?” 

You pushed the phone out of your face and turned properly to face him, only then seeing that he wasn’t taking this conversation as a joke the same way you were. His jaw had tightened, the lines in his forehead displayed his very prominent annoyance and you flipped a switch to react accordingly, hand going up to cup his cheek

“Lando,” you said, a slight shake of the head. “You’re being dramatic. I commented on my friend's photo. Who is also your friend. It’s nothing to get worked up over, okay?”

Lando and Carlos were still two peas in a pod. Their bond was unbreakable but since you started dating you could tell he was always slightly on edge whenever you and Carlos were alone together. And of course Lando trusted you, you’re the one person who held his heart he knew you wouldn’t do anything to damage it.

It was Carlos he didn’t trust. 

He didn’t like that Carlos had never once talked to Lando about the kiss you had shared. It was this strange, unspoken thing, but when you tried to explain how weird it would be for Carlos to approach him and say ‘hey, I had feelings for your girlfriend and we kissed but don’t worry about’ it didn’t really click for Lando. 

So he just held his breath and watched from a distance whenever you interacted with the Spanish driver and if he felt your conversations lingered a little too long for his liking, he’d find a way to pull you aside and remind you who exactly you were in the paddock for. 

He had no control over what happened on Instagram, though. And it wasn’t like he was going to tell you to unfollow your brother's teammate, so he just ignored any bitter thoughts that came to mind if he saw your name show up in Carlos’ likes. 

But that comment. 

It was friendly, sure, but it was the fact that it was on the topic of facial hair that really stung. Lando knew how much you hated his facial hair when he tried to grow it out and the only reason he ended up shaving was because you made your dislike for it so abundantly clear. 

So why the fuck did you not hate it on Carlos?

Carlos didn’t have as difficult of a time growing out the stubble like Lando did. And his already prominent moustache was just only going to get thicker and you didn’t hate it. It was clear by your comment, despite it being sarcastic, that you didn’t hate it. 

And Lando hated that.

“You’re really bothered by this,” you said aloud when it sunk in that this wasn’t something Lando would get over after a good night's sleep. 

“I am, yes.”

“And what's bothering you, exactly? The fact that I commented on his picture?” You asked, wanting to get to the root of the problem. “Or are you annoyed that I had a different reaction to his facial hair than I did with yours?”

Lando hesitated before finally muttering a quiet, “Both.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed on his chest, wanting not only a bit of space from his childish ways of thinking but also wanting to finish dinner. You picked up the knife and went back to mincing the pepper, not about to coddle Lando or assure him that he had nothing to worry about because this was a conversation you had had way too many times for your liking and if he didn’t know you loved him by now then that was his problem. 

But Lando wasn’t about to move on as easy as you had, “I’m just saying-” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” You cut him off, voice shaper than the knife in your hand. Each cut against the board echoed in the confined space and Lando could tell you were applying more pressure than needed, relying on your actions to show that you really didn’t want to have this conversation.

And Lando stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Not just about the picture, but in general. When you asked him to set the table, he did so without his usual childish complaints. The conversation between you during dinner was cold and distant but you didn’t want to press further, knowing that he’d get over this in his own way.

You thought things were fine when he crawled into bed shortly after you did because he curled his arm around your waist like normal, pulling you against his chest as his soft breath hit your neck. You whispered ‘goodnight to him, but his lack of response wasn’t something you thought too much about. 

It wasn’t until you woke up did the trouble really begin. 

You walked into the bathroom first thing in the morning, rubbing your eyes and the residue of mascara that didn’t come off after washing your face last night. After turning on the sink and letting the water run, you wiped a disposable cloth over your face and tossed it out immediately after. Naturally, the rest of your morning routine would have followed, had a perfectly good electric razor not have caught your eye at the top of the garbage can.

“Lando!” You basically screamed, knowing he was in the inbetween stages of awake and asleep when you had gotten out of bed. You heard the rustling of sheets and the patter of footsteps as you grabbed the razor out of the bin. 

When you turned around, one hand resting on your hip you saw a very tired Lando standing in the hallway. Usually the sight of him bare chested and wearing nothing but boxers was enough to have you contemplating dragging him back to bed, but not this time.

“What is this?” You asked, so obviously talking about the razor Lando had thrown out the night prior. “A peaceful protest?”

Lando looked at you and then at the little contraption and then back at you, a hint of a playful smile on his face. Of course now he thought this was funny.

“Yeah that’s a good way to put it.” 

“Are you fu-” you sucked in a breath to avoid losing your shit on him five minutes after waking up. “Why?”

“Because I’m growing out my facial hair again.”

“Why?” 

“Oh is that the only word you know how to say?” Lando asked, mimicking your question from last night with more sarcasm than you wanted to deal with at nine in the morning.

You rolled your eyes and shoved the razer into his chest before storming past him, dragging your fingers through the roots of your hair while he was forced to call your name, stopping you from slamming the door to the bedroom.

“What?” Lando asked, voice raised. “Why are you so upset about this?”

Your hands tensed, cupping your own face as you exhaled into your palms before your arms fell back to your side, “I’m upset because you clearly are doing this because of that stupid comment on Carlos’ picture.”

“Maybe I just want to grow my facial hair out again,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t thrown the razor out again, but that didn’t give you any sort of hope that he would hear you out.

“You don’t,” you scoffed. “You told me yourself it wasn’t permanent the first time. You just wanted to try it out. You tried it and it turns out, not for you.”

“Maybe I’ll like it more the second time.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, instead choosing to turn on your heels and start to walk into your bedroom, muttering a quiet, “Maybe I’ll hate it more the second time”

“Oh but you love Carlos’ facial hair.”

That stopped you in his tracks. Lando finally admitting that it was, in fact, the comment that was getting to him. Carlos and your interaction was the catalyst to all of this and instead of Lando seeing it as an exchange between friends, he was taking it personally.

You turned back around and walked right up to him, nearly chest to chest when he straightened up from the wall. Lando and you didn’t usually fight, both of you knew how important communication and trust was and it was and after the rocky start you had, you never wanted to go back to a place of uncertainty with him.

But this was fucking annoying.

“That’s what you’re mad about, huh?” You asked, holding his stare. “The fucking comment. And you think that growing your facial hair out is, what, a way to get back at me? Because you know I hate it?”

Lando said nothing, a dead giveaway that you were 100% right and he was simply being immature for the sake of being immature. 

“Okay,” you nodded, throwing Lando off when your tone went from deadly to calm before he could blink. “You want to be mad? Fine. I’ll give you something to be mad about.”

Lando watched as you walked back to the room and he hesitantly followed, trying to make sense of whatever that ominous warning was that just came out of your mouth. He didn’t say anything when you walked out of the closet, fully dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. An Enchante t-shirt even though he thought you were past wearing Danny’s merch. He didn’t say anything when you grabbed a backpack from under the bed and put your wallet and a few other necessities in there because it wasn’t like you were packing. This flat in London was basically your second home and this spat seemed too minor for you to be packing up your things and leaving.

But you were going somewhere.

“Where the hell are you going?” Lando asked when you finished brushing a comb through your hair. You slung the straps of the backpack over your shoulder and then, this was the kicker, you grabbed your passport that was sitting on top of the dresser.

You barely looked at him as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his before you headed straight for the door. 

“Back to Monaco. See you in Canada.”

—————

You were true to your word. Cutting off communication with Lando until you landed in Montreal the Thursday before the grand prix weekend started. 

Lando, in return, did not reach out. But he did make it perfectly obvious that he was growing out the facial hair again, making sure to post about it every chance he got. You swore you had never seen him share so many pictures on his photography account and were you a little upset he went to New York without you? Kind of, but you were stubborn and so was he and you had now found yourselves giving each other the cold shoulder over a goddamn comment on Carlos fucking Sainz’s instagram picture.

“What’s up with you and Lando?” Charles asked, an unmistakable pep in his voice that you raised your eyebrows at. He stood next to you on the balcony overlooking the paddock, arms rested over the railing and mirroring your position, but he cleared his throat and reworded his question. “It’s just, something’s up, no?”

You shouldn’t have been surprised he figured out there was tension. If Lando’s fans could put two and two together when you neglected to comment or even like any of his pictures, your own brother could figure it out too.

“He’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well I could have told you that,” Charles snorted. “What really happened?”

“I commented on Carlos’ picture a few weeks ago and Lando took it as me liking Carlos’ facial hair even though I made it perfectly clear I hated it when he was trying to grow out his hair.”

Charles took a second to repeat your words in his head, “He’s upset because you commented on Carlos’ moustache?”

You nodded, “And now he’s growing his facial hair out again out of spite.”

“This is about so much more than facial hair isn’t it?”

You clasped your hands together. You felt Charles’ eyes practically burning holes into the side of your head but you focused on the people wandering around the paddock. 

“He’s just dramatic and immature,” you muttered, deciding that was an easier answer than to have a whole therapy session with him. “He’ll learn his lesson, though. I have an idea.”

“Why do I have a feeling you are also about to be dramatic and immature?”

You laughed in response, right as you spotted the exact person you needed to help you with this idea. You patted Charles on the arm and told him you’d see him later before you all but sprinted down the stairs of the motorhome to chase after the other Ferrari driver.

“Carlos!” You called out, running after him before he could get too far. He turned around when he heard his name, a smile on his face when he recognized the voice belonging to you. 

You had to admit, the grown out facial hair did suit him. Carlos was always handsome but this made him look more mature, more distinguished. 

“I need you to do me a favour,” you said, a playful smile painted on your lips.

Carlos nodded, “This sounds like deja vu.”

“It has to do with getting back at Lando.”

“Now it really sounds like deja vu,” His eyes widened momentarily as he thought back to what happened in the club when you last asked for his help. He was still traumatised from that DJ set. But Carlos loved you, platonically of course, he would always help you. “What do you need, hermosa?”

A few photographers started to crowd you and usually at this point, any driver would continue walking to get away from the unscheduled media harassment. But this was what you needed.

You raised your hand up to his jaw, thumb tracing over the hair he was growing out as a shimmer of adoration glossed over your eyes. Your lips curled upwards and Carlos, even though he was certainly confused, played along, loving any excuse to mess with Lando.

“Just tell me to kiss you and I will,” Carlos joked quietly, face only inches from yours, and you pushed on his chest in response. He caught you a little off guard when he reached for your hand and pulled you back before you could force some space between you. 

You glanced at his lips as Carlos held your hand between your bodies. You reached up with your other hand to cup his chin lightly, thumb dangerously close to his lips. To anyone walking by, it most likely looked like you were about to kiss him.

But you got all that you needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shooting him a wink before you pulled yourself from his grasp and walked back to the Ferrari motorhome, knowing that the media was about to have a field day with those photos. 

You didn’t see Lando at all in the paddock. Whether that was intentional on his behalf or not, you had no idea. You did, however, see your name blowing up on twitter along with all of the comments about how you and Carlos looked too damn friendly to be just friends. 

Lando’s text came about an hour after your name started trending. 

Charles told you that you potentially took it a step too far, having a few choice words himself to say about you and Carlos, all of which you tuned out and told him you knew what you were doing. 

But you weren’t entirely sure who had the upper hand when you got your key from the receptionist and made your way up to Lando’s suite at the end of the night. You purposely took your time getting there, deciding to go out for dinner with a friend first before finding yourself at his hotel.

And now you were holding your breath as the card reader turned green and unlocked. You pushed the door open, not having anticipated seeing Lando sitting on the couch and leaning forward as he scrolled through his laptop that was perched on the coffee table. He heard you walk in, heard you put your bag on the counter, heard you slide your shoes off and clear your throat, but he didn’t look up once.

Lando simply turned the laptop around on the table so the screen was facing you instead. On the screen was a tweet, or maybe it was a photo from Instagram, you were standing too far away to tell the source but you could make out the image of you and Carlos.

More specifically, the image of you holding your hand against Carlos’ cheek and giving him the smile that was usually reserved for Lando. One he hadn’t seen in almost two weeks.

He clicked on the trackpad and the next one appeared. Much more intimate than the last as this was the photo that gave Lando a heart attack. He didn’t expect to open his phone after the media pen interview and see pictures of his girlfriend about to kiss his best friend.

You didn’t regret what you did, that little act. You didn’t actually do anything except plant an idea in Lando’s head.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked, gesturing to the laptop. You took a few, horribly slow, steps forward. You were nervous about how this conversation would go, but you knew how to mask your emotions enough and as Lando stood up, eyeing you over, you didn’t buckle under the weight of his gaze.

He scratched his chin, his overgrown stubble, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth.

You expected him to snap. To say something about the facial hair, about the photos, about Carlos. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks and you assumed that the first conversation you had would be a fight, because, let’s face it, you were both dramatic and immature.

But you didn’t expect his shoulders to drop and for his stare to go from cold to distant as he opened his mouth and asked a question that broke you the way nothing else in your life ever could.

“Do you love me?”

It caught you by surprise, “Do I-” You took a few steps forward, the wall you had up had now fallen and all you wanted to do was reach for him. “Why are you even asking that? Of course I love you. You know I love you.”

“So then why?” He asked, referring to the photos.

You exhaled a breath before responding, “Because you were making a big deal out of that stupid comment, Lando.”

He stepped forward too, closing the gap between you inch by inch, “I made the appropriate amount of deal over seeing my girlfriend flirt with someone on social media.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, not yet. It seemed that you both wanted to avoid that. You weren’t ones to yell at each other, you argued, yes, but your voices never echoed off the walls. 

And you didn’t want to yell, not when you knew what this was really about.

Your lips parted, but you barely got a thought out, “Lando-”

“He still has feelings for you.” He stated, as if Carlos had told him that himself. “He still likes you and I know- I know you guys are friends, I can’t tell you not to be friends but I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t like that you are blissfully unaware that he’s into you, that he’s-”

“No, you know what I don’t like?” You cut him off sharply. “I don’t like that this is clearly something that’s bothering you and instead of talking about it to me from the beginning, you let it simmer and focus on things like comments and facial hair and being childish, Lando.” 

When you stepped forward, Lando thought you were about to lose it on him. Instead, you lifted your hands to cup beneath his jaw, your thumbs gently tracing small circles on his cheek and Lando could finally breathe because this was the first time in days he was feeling your touch and even though things were strange between you, your hands holding his face in font of yours felt right.

“You need to talk to me about these things,” you told him. “If something’s eating at you like this. How was I supposed to know this was so much bigger than a stupid fucking moustache?”

Lando laughed at your question, because it really was insane when he thought about it. He should have told you about his distrust with Carlos instead of letting his frustration boil up.

“Lando, I love you,” you whispered with a soft chuckle. “I love everything about you, everything that matters. Your heart, your soul, the way you treat people, your sense of humour, the way I can trust you with absolutely everything, how you managed to win over my entire family and for fucks sakes, yes, I absolutely hate your facial hair but have you ever stopped and thought about why?” 

Of course he hadn’t. Lando acted first and thought later.

He hesitated before asking, “Why?”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards, your eyes darting down to his lips as you pulled him closer, his hands finding your waist. 

You lips hovered over his, teasing him with a ghost of a kiss, something just within his reach but when he tried to connect your lips you kept pulling back, leaving him hanging.

“Because it itches.”

Lando pulled his head back, still in your grasp but no longer trying to kiss you as confusion flashed over his features instead.

“Itches?”

“Itches,” you repeated with a slow nod. “I don’t like your facial hair-” you ran your thumb over his chin and the stubble he had grown out. “-because when you go down on me, it. Itches.”

Lando opened his mouth, only to close it promptly while your words sunk in. Of course that had never crossed his mind, that the feeling of his facial hair rubbing against the inside of your thighs, near your folds, would cause displeasure. 

“And I’m sorry about the incident with Carlos,” you continued on, knowing you had to address it. “I’m not making excuses but if you are acting childish, I- in return -will also act childish. If I had known it was about more than facial hair, I wouldn’t have caused such a scene but god, Lando, I don’t give a shit about Carlos growing out a beard or a moustache because it’s not his lips on me. It’s not him eating me out.”

Lando cleared his throat, not surprised that you were so blunt with your choice of words. You always were. He was surprised, though, when you stepped away from him and turned around, leaving him a little speechless as you walked towards the bedroom.

Before stepping through the door frame, you glanced over your shoulder and raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you just going to stand there?”

That got him moving. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off as he followed your footsteps, discarding the top behind him. When his arms slid around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, you melted into his hold.

You craned your neck, giving him more than enough access to press his lips to your skin. Your hands covered his as the quietest moan followed a strained exhale. He trailed his lips upwards, but refrained from going further, lifting his head up after just a few seconds.

You turned and looked at him, spotting that stupid grin on his face. 

He nudged you towards the bed, “Get comfy, my love, I need to take care of something first.”

You didn’t need to question what he had to take care of. He planted a kiss on your cheek and retreated towards the bathroom. Doing what he said, you climbed atop the bed and you as well, had a stupid grin on your face when you overheard the dull sound of an electric razor trailing in from the hallway.

And god was it music to your ears.

[forbidden-sin-bin]

Sex and Filthy Smut headcanons

(Eminem x F!Reader Hc’s and drabbles)

Rated: E for explicit… no wait, this needs an X rating for possibly being the filthiest thing I’m gonna write in my life. God save my soul (probably not but hey at least I asked)

Warnings: I mean… look at the title. Need I say more??? Smut. Sex. Lovemaking, Intercourse. Whatever the hell you wanna call it. The whole 10 yards is here. It’s porn, not gonna lie at all.

Tags/Keywords: Smut, Heavy Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, fluff, fluff and smut, Pre-established relationship, Sexual Content, Kink, Overstimulation, Dom/Sub, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Giving/Receiving, Healthy Relationships, Feel Good, Everything sinful under the sun is found here, Author is going to hell, anyone who reads this is coming with me

A/N: Yes yes, ain’t no fuckbuddies or friends with benefits headcanons here, sue me. There is NO angst or sadness here. None, zero, zilch. Those kinds of relationships almost NEVER end well 98% of the time. This is all about you and him ONLY. Give it up for romance y’all.

Not gonna lie, there might've been more I wanted to add to this hellfire list of headcanons but once you've seen how much stuff there is below I hope you'll forgive me for finally putting this out here.

I hope by reading this, will provide you with comfort and satisfaction.

VERY special thanks to @smutty-books for beta reading and feedback along with helping me with this monster of a list! Please check them out and show them some love! (Seriously thank you Smutty for the additional ideas and content. you made this Hc's list a million times better and twice as much content included.)

(WARNING: Past this point is VERY EXPLICIT CONTENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.)

General HC's:

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy ohhhhhh boy.

You want sum fuk? You got sum fuk and way more.

As long as you’re his s/o, congrats on your sex life being absolutely demolished and rebuilt by this man. You’ll probably never find a better person in the bedroom for the rest of your life. It literally doesn’t matter if he’s your boyfriend or your husband, sex is a staple activity in your relationship that you both enjoy.

Fast and rough? Slow and steady? Maybe a little bit of both? You bet he’ll be saying fuck yeah to all of those.

His sex drive has always been relatively quite high, even after all these years. Being 50 and counting ain’t gonna stop him anytime soon.

Can, and will, want to fuck you on any and every surface of the house.

Living room couch? Perfect spot for bouncing in his lap or to blow him hard.

Dining room table? He’ll have you either bent over and railing you from behind or sitting on top while he devours your dripping wet pussy.

Taking a shower? You’ll be saving water if you do it together… yeah. Definitely not because of at least a half dozen things you can do in there with soothing hot water pouring down your bodies.

In the studio?…

Okay maybe not the studio he’s gotta work without getting distracted and lord save you two if anyone finds a sliver of evidence that you two fucked in there-

Not a PDA guy much, which also extends to any sexual antics outside. He won’t be taking any risks getting the two of you caught lacking

As long as you two are in the house, it’s free game

His views and methods of sex vary depending on which era we’re talking about

If he were in his 1999’s/2000’s era, then yeah, absolute horndog. He’s constantly so busy and on the move, sex would be a quick trip and onto the next. It would’ve scratched the itch, but arguably wouldn’t have sated his appetite for long. If he ever had a chance to have a good, drawn out sex session, it’ll leave him looking like he had a serious hangover but he’ll be waking up so relaxed.

Him being quick to fuck around and quick to leave was his style pre-Relapse. It’s a common thing you see around music artists in general and he was no exception. That doesn’t mean he was closed off to finding an actual solid relationship, it just becomes that much harder to find someone genuine. Most of the time though, he was busy putting out albums and producing music with a 9 to 5 regimen.

Post-Relapse/Recovery Em had insane stamina due to the excessive amount of exercise he put in. Call me insane, but I have a feeling this may be the time where he had the least amount of sex drive-

NOW HOLD ON HEAR ME OUT

He was starting out his sobriety around this time, I’m no expert but I would have to think that he hasn’t fucked or hooked up with anyone since then cause sex may have been a risk or his body was recovering, therefore most likely putting sex as a low priority. That isn’t to say he wasn’t busting a nut oh no, he probably became best friends with his hands again.

The time between Rap God/Monster Era was slowly building back up his drive, transitioning him to the Revival/Present Day era where he’s back on his blue-balling bullshit. Mans been practically putting out mating calls in his music and in interviews I mean COME ON HAVE YOU SEEN IT

He’s wise enough to not be caught slipping with hoes cause he won’t be caught with those hoes. At all. He’s not a hoe fucker no more. You heard him.

Finding an actual healthy relationship with one person? Someone give it to him, now.

(Anyone who remembers that one shot in that Rainy Days behind the scenes video where he points the camera to his crotch and says “EVERYTHING is for sale.” If that isn’t a man in heat I dunno what is; And that’s just one example out of many lemme tell you)

THE POINT IS, HE CAN GO FOR ONE ROUND, OR MANY, MANY MORE.

He’s determined to make you feel good more than him, but he’ll absolutely be having fun with how you’re gonna come. He’ll love exploring your body, finding out every little spot that gives you shivers down your spine.

Oh yeah, did I mention that he's got a big dick? He's got a big dick.

Don't try to deny it when you can't help but glance at his crotch all the time. It might be bias, or it might be fact that you can see the bulge in his pants.

Dom/Sub Roles:

He’s a dom, no question about that. Most of the time he’s a soft dom, not overwhelmingly asserting himself over you but firm enough to have you listen to him. Of course, he’ll be praising you a ton if you’re doing good and listening. But if you’re acting a little bratty, a little petty… yeah, he’ll make you behave, let’s just leave it at that.

Enjoys having you bent over his knee while he fingers your pussy, making sure you’re all nice and ready for him to enjoy.

If you squirm too much, expect a light spanking and a firm reminder to behave.

Again, not over the top with his dominance, cause at the end of the day, he wants to take care of you, to make you feel comfortable and show you how much he loves you. So praising isn’t just a dom thing, it’s genuinely how he expresses his affection to you.

If you insist on it, he can go even harder as a dom, upping his antics and getting off on seeing you beg for relief. Punishments will be even meaner and if you slip up even just a little, looks like you’re gonna have to start all over. No amount of pleading, teary whines from you will get him to change the cold, hard look in his eyes as he’s watching you.

Absolutely insistent on a safe word, no matter the situation.

Marshall’s immediately shifting to a protective, nurturing caretaker the moment your safe word leaves your lips and making sure your needs are met, completely understanding and shushing any apologies that threaten to leave your mouth for ruining the moment. You come first and foremost.

Amazing with aftercare. Will make sure that you’re okay and well taken care of after a session, praising you lovingly as he holds you close. If it was particularly intense, he’ll be checking in on you for the next day or so whilst feeling quite proud of himself that he can reduce you to a begging, dripping mess yesterday night. But he's by far more proud of you for trusting him and letting him experience you in such a vulnerable position.

All it takes is for him to say: "Such a good girl" and you're all his. (Can't blame you honestly-)

He'll be using your petnames even outside of your passionate sessions, even if it's just coming home to greet you after a day of work or passing by each other in the house to do something, a quick: "Hey peaches" or "How's my babygirl?" never fails to want to leave you smiling shyly, even after a bad day.

While being a sub is not what he would usually do at all, it’s not impossible. Once he’s far into a relationship with you and fully comfortable, he might actually give in to your insistence.

He has a need to feel like he’s in control, like he’s leading; Being on the opposite end is a big deal for him, so if he ever subs it’s a huge fucking compliment and privilege that shows how much he trusts and loves you to bare himself to you.

He’ll definitely be grumbly about it tho, and probably trying to act all teasing at your attempt to dominate him. But once you get past that first phase and he lets himself relax and give into your control… he doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels so fucking secure with you.

When he fully gives in, he’s preening and leaning into your touch. He’ll be such a good boy under your lavish praise and having all of your attention on him.

It feels almost foreign, not being the one in charge and making all the decisions for once. But once he gets used to it, he'll be doing whatever he can to receive your approval.

Seeing him at your mercy, letting you take the reins, makes it your priority to see him come undone by your command, holy shit, it's fucking beautiful.

If he's up for being a little more bratty (not unlike he's been on his petty shit for decades as his core personality trait let's be real here) and expecting to be punished and/or your dominance be harsher, the thought of pushing you to your limits with how much you're willing to keep up with him makes him really, really excited on the inside.

It’s both of your secrets, so don’t fuck it up, a'ight?

Teasing/Body Parts:

Speaking of secrets… he’s incredibly private, but at the same time, don’t be surprised if he ends up writing lyrics that may or may not allude or be inspired by your sex lives. You swear this man will be the death of you, smug bastard.

If you’re ever turned on by listening to his music or his voice, it’ll be such a massive ego boost for him, holy shit. No need to feel embarrassed, cause he’s fucking flattered.

Even tho his residence is far from any neighbors (and definitely soundproof), he’s got a playlist for your ears to get aroused to.

Imagine Marshall whispering in your ear or talking in that low voice of his and well damn now you’re horny is an understatement of the goddamn century.

And it’s not just you! Marshall gets off hearing you moan like crazy, another sign that lets him know he’s doing a damn good job. Hearing you whimpering gets him going, but making you scream? Jackpot.

Unsurprisingly to a lot of y’all, but he loves tits. He loves ass for sure, but feeling your breasts is just- Yes.

Love fondling them, licking, biting, sucking, you name it.

Now do the same for him-

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN’S PECS

MAN’S GOT HUGE FUCKING HONKERS. HOLY SHIT.

(No wonder he’s such a titty guy-)

But seriously, play with his chest and he’ll be moaning and writhing under you. Music to your ears.

Rest assured your ass will not be forgotten or neglected. No fucking way he’ll ever leave any part of you un-worshipped. Even when you’re just passing each other around the house he’ll playfully slap or squeeze your ass with a smirk. Cheeky fucker.

May or may not prompt him to just throw you down and pin you against whatever furniture is closest and have his way with you right then and there.

Or it could be the other way around! You can't help but give his sexy behind a mischievous swat or grab, or his pecs. He'll probably pretend to be miffed but you'll be catching him returning the smirk you have on your face. Oh, by all means, have your way with him right then and there as well. Equal rights, equal sexy times.

Grabbing your backside and pulling you closer to him, pressed against his chest and his growing bulge in his pants oh sweet Jesus-

Will for sure spank you while you’re riding him or he’s railing you from behind, the sounds of skin slapping against skin while he sees your ass jiggle with every thrust is just so fucking hot

He wants to reach deep down, as far as his cock can reach, nothing in the house is safe from him pounding your pussy and giving you a creampie.

Speaking of that, He LOVES to come into you or on you. It gives him a feeling of claiming what's his. Anytime he sees his cum dripping outta you or running down your skin, Marshall’s ready to go again.

Or he could use a sex toy, making sure his cum stays inside and your pussy ready for him in a few.

Kinks

We’ve already covered the dom/sub parts, but there is SO much potential for other kinks that you and him can get into so let’s get right into it

Breeding Kink:

I mean how can we not start this off without mentioning that

Can, and will ram you harder and faster than a piston AND make sure you both cum multiple times

If you’re walking the next morning, that means he failed the assignment so now he’s boutta rectify that

Dirty talk is cranked to a hundred as he’s growling in your ear on how much of a slut you are for his seed, how he’ll fill you up and make sure your womb is carrying his baby, how gorgeous you would look with your belly swollen with your little creation, etc.

Even if he’s sure that he doesn’t want anymore kids (given his age or experience, which is understandable), imagine the baby fever he gets when he sees or imagines you with kids

He’s perfectly happy with just you and him, but the possibility of you, him, and maybe a little one you made together from your love? His pupils are dilating like a cat getting ready to pounce

Even if the possibilities are extremely unlikely, the mere thought of it and he’s giving you the 🥺 eyes. (Every time you see him make those eyes at you, it’s probably cause he’s feelin the breeding urge)

If you're not able to, that doesn't change a thing; he wants to make you feel like you're his no matter what, and you are! He loves you for you.

Obsessed with coming inside you after railing you into the mattress, filling you to the brim with his seed

Loves giving you a creampie and then watching it leak out of your pussy, might take the initiative to stuff his spilling cum back into you

Or he could just fuck you at multiple different times during the day like the stud he is

Hell he may as well just not pull out and you’ll both be falling asleep still connected

You'll be waking up with his member engorged and slowly thrusting in you while he nuzzles into you, taking in your scent, kissing your lips so softly until you both cum. After that he takes you to the shower and you both wash each other

Loves marking your skin with his mouth, letting anyone know that your his and his only

Your cunt and everything else is thoroughly satisfied every time the breeding kink comes on don’t you worry about that honey

Size Kink:

Hey don't judge his 5'7 ass. Marshall's got other big things minus his height; Big hands, big ears, HUGE CO-

If you're smaller than him: He praises you for taking him in so well, whispers words of encouragement with every inch he pushes into you until you can feel his tip brushing against your cervix. Doesn't want to overdo it in fear of hurting you, but with your insistence he'll be going all out in due time

If you're taller than him: He LOVES it. No cap you being taller or bigger than him is so fucking sexy. Makes him more eager to make you come and more confidence in exploring different ways to do so

Takes a hand in yours and guides you both to press against your stomach, feeling for his cock thrusting into you

Praises you constantly as he feels your walls stretch around him so perfectly

Once you feel like you can take all of him, all of his restraint is gone as he pounds your sopping wet cunt relentlessly

Body worshipping is a must regardless of size

Feral/Primal Kink:

You know how possessive he can be, and that still translates to the bedroom. Even when he knows you're his, he can't help but feel turned on by his possessiveness for you.

And when you're all his, he can go fucking. Crazy.

It's also the dom feeling in him as well, but he has a need to claim you: Not out of insecurity, but out of his desire to make sure you know how much he loves you.

Likes biting your ear as an affectionate gesture. Sometimes he enjoys lightly tugging as a playful gesture to get you riled up.

Marshall thinks the growling thing is dumb as hell but if you're into that he'll try to give you some throaty growls in your ear, but expect him to start cracking up at his attempts until he's used to it

He thinks he can't do it yet he doesn't realize the low rumble in his throat whenever he gets a jealous streak

Voice/Audio Kink:

Well, well, WELL. Someone's ego is about to be stroked harder than his cock for once

He’ll absolutely be moaning and grunting more often when you guys have sex

Jokingly asks if you want to put some music on before you start fucking though he probably cringes listening to his own music during sex

Definitely ruins the mood for him when he hears someone that collabed with him on one of his songs or if any of his lyrics mention things that he doesn't want to think about when horny

Whenever he asks what you're listening to and hears one of his songs, he can't help but inwardly smile or smirk with pride. "Good choice." He nods, keeping his face unreadable.

If he catches you listening to FACK he just starts dying with laughter and dying on the inside simultaneously

No but seriously, he's super fucking flattered knowing how much his music or just his voice turns you on

Whispers in your ear during sex, either praising, teasing, or telling you what to do

He'll be observing which tone provokes the biggest reaction out of you so he can remember it for future reference

(People working with him in the studio are gonna be wondering why he's so close to the mic while recording recently)

Might record something just for your ears to listen to when you guys are apart ;)

Sex Positions

Missionary:

Ah, the OG.

Ranging from being the most vanilla to literally breaking the bed and making the house shake. Most people’s go-to position and Marshall is no different.

He’s got full access to your face, neck, and breasts while he pounds you into the mattress, absolutely loves it and it’s no surprise.

Is eye contact a kink? He’ll be wanting to look you in the eyes no matter the pace you’re going. Additionally may often include forehead touching and/or nose nuzzling. Incredibly hot and intimate.

If he’s feeling extra curious or dominant, he might even push your legs back and over his shoulders to reach even deeper into you. (In other words, putting you in a mating press.) You ain’t walking for a few days after this. Catch his freaky ass all smug n shit.

Slow and intimate in this position is SO fulfilling. It’s like baring your souls to one another.

Going fast and rough is just straight up a joyride and a half. It feels carnal in the best way possible.

Overall you can’t fuck this up really. It’s missionary for crying out loud.

Doggystyle:

*clears throat* Ahem. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

If you haven’t seen my fic Heat yet, it’s basically me writing smut for the first time in this position but taken to the next level. Should hint at a lot on what imma bout to say tbh

YES. HELL YES. PLEASE LET HIM RAM INTO YOU FROM BEHIND. HE’LL BE POUNDING INTO YOU SO FUCKING HARD

If you go face down on the bed, ass up? Holy shit

Expect bruises on your hips the next morning… also a very horny man ready to go again or to absolutely worship the fuck outta you for taking it so fucking amazingly

He'll be running a bath for you, being extra doting and attentive, the whole nine yards while also feeing that masculine satisfaction™ at the fact that he's able to get you to that state of bliss.

By far the most feral position. If he’s got a breeding kink I wish you luck on how many times you’re gonna come and he’s gonna come

If you’re also into taking it in the ass I respect you 👀 kinky motherfucker would love to explore some new ways to fuck

Pronebone is also basically the same as mentioned above, but it’s got that intimate feel, you get me? He’s closer to you whilst also able to attack your neck and shoulders, maybe even have a hot make out session with you while he continues to pound your pussy or ass raw.

As long as you love taking it from behind he’ll be on his knees for you. And on top of you.

Cowgirl/Reverse Cowgirl, You On Top:

Ride him. That’s all I gotta say.

He wants you to ride him. Fuck him silly. He’ll lose it.

It’s a perfect demonstration of him still being the dom. You may be on top, but he’s the one in control.

Might tease you by making you work hard for a reaction outta him. He’ll be pretending to be unimpressed or smug while you bounce in his lap but in reality he’s trying so hard not to break

Either that, or he won’t be holding back on how good you make him feel. Mouth open, quietly moaning, grabbing your ass or your hips.

If he can't take it anymore, he pulls you down to him and holds you tight while he starts bucking his hips, pounding up into you like a piston

Even once you both come he starts back up again before you've even calmed down

Oral (Giving and Receiving)/69:

I mean… are we really gonna question it? Yeah you better give this guy some head he is a slut for it

Give him a blowjob and he’ll be the happiest man alive

You watching his expressions as you’re sucking him off

Might take some practice to take all of him into your mouth cause this man is BIG

Even when he’s got loose sweatpants on you can still see his bulge AND IT’S NOT WHEN HE’S HARD AND HORNY. MARSHALL’S PACKING.

I wish you luck in trying to deepthroat this man

When it comes to oral, he definitely prefers receiving rather than giving

But don’t you DARE underestimate this man’s tongue cause holy fucking hell he’s feasting on your pussy

PLEASE let him suck on your clit while he’s eating you out. That man’s mouth is amazing in many ways for a reason

Imagine having to go out after and if anyone asks him if he wants anything to eat he just replies: “Nah I’m good. I had something earlier.” And then GIVING YOU THE SIDE EYE LOOK-

BEARD. BURN.

Let this man bury his face in between your thighs and imagine the friction of his beard brushing against your skin. If that doesn’t make you cum then him lapping you up will guaranteed

69 turns into a competition to see who can get the other to cum first, or a comforting session of tasting each other

Standing:

Y'all know he can do it pinning you against a wall. Thanks 8 Mile

As hot as it is, take care as not to have your head or back bang against it

Great for quickies but probably not for a long time; You gotta give his back a break lmao

Hugging your waist from behind tho :eyes:

Add a mirror on both opposite ends of the wall and you can watch him thrust into you

He's holding you real tight and close, making sure to hold you up so your legs won't buckle

Spooning:

Feelin real cozy

It can be lazy morning sex; Intimate and gentle as he places kisses behind your ear and buries his face into your neck while he does long, deep strokes in and out of your walls

Or it can be rough: Holding your thigh up while his hips violently thrust into you, only stilling when he comes after you

Another way is his cock slipping between your thighs and humping you eagerly, or his cock rutting against your ass

Push your hips back in time with his thrusts for deeper penetration or the sound of your skin slapping against each other

His hands clutching your hips or grabbing your breasts as he moans in your ear, feeling his cock twitching with his release

- - -

ALRIGHT TIME TO STOP HERE I’VE BEEN KEEPING THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS Anyways hope y’all enjoyed this and then some <3 I might come back to this and and more so who knows? If you enjoyed let me know your feedback and if you have any suggestions!

[siriusleee]

rebehold the stars

a/n: i spent hours in the bathtub trying to picture this in my head. anyway, thank you to everyone who commented. you guys are great. pairing: ghost x medic!reader (hazy) tags: semi-romantic, religious symbolism and imagery, dying, gunshot wound, blood, lots of cursing, lots of switching between character pov, obvious ptsd

2.4k words part one Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars. - Dante Alighieri, Inferno

Rifle between your shoulder blades, you hit the deck; an alchemist sentenced to the tenth bolgia. A mystic who made false promises to keep a man alive when he's bleeding out before you. 

Men. Not man.

"Wha' the fuck are ya?"

Blood seeps in between the fabric of your shirt - Achilleus in the dirt descending to the second circle. It takes a few moments before you realize the guy screaming at you isn't speaking another language - he's just Scottish.

Scottish.

Not American.

His rifle digs into your shoulder painfully. 

"Soap!"

A second pair of boots enters your vision, you keep your eyes trained on the doorway. The ambulance scream grows fainter in the distance. They're arguing above you, but you're too busy thinking about the rifle cutting into your back to care. 

Zip ties around your wrist and you're hauled to your feet. The neighbors stare through the blinds, unwavering as they watch you get shoved into the back of a black SUV. The man who shoved the rifle in your back takes a shotgun. The youngest who listened to you about the towel takes the seat to your left. 

They don't put a bag over your face as you speed away. 

Fuck.

***

This must be his punishment for his sins - the screaming and blinding lights. Whatever is above him - they aren't angels. His mom used to say that those who repent go to paradise. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. The verse comes back so clearly to him now - Sundays in the pew, hours spent away from home. Baseless hope that things would change. Would get better. Will get better.

Hands tear him apart; his atoms smashing together. A nuclear reaction waiting to implode. A stifled scream around the torture in his throat. 

There are no halos above him now.

Hazy. Her name was Hazy.

***

They leave you in a cold room to let the blood set sticky on you. It takes hours, but a woman walks in - a crisp white shirt mocking you across the table. She slides a file across the table at you - you don't need to look at it to know it's yours. Your name rolls off her tongue, nearly foreign in her clipped speech.

"Call sign Hazy. You did two tours as an Air Force Combat Pararescue member. One of them with the SEALs in a classified mission in the Middle East. Then you quit."

"I did."

"What did you do after that?"

"ER nurse."

"Not anymore?"

No.

No. You couldn't keep doing the death and destruction. Breathing wounds on a Tuesday night. Bodies smashed against the asphalt. Grown men begging for their moms. God's divine punishment on his will-less puppets for a long-forgotten transgression.

"How did you manage to get one of my operates on your table?"

"Kismet."

Maybe God smiles down sometimes.

***

Simon floats between here and there. 

Angels in white veils, bloodstained hands lifting him from the ground to smash him back down moments later. His father stumbling into the kitchen, the ground yawning beneath him to swallow him. His mom shaking hands with the preacher, the same hands that refuse to defend themselves later. 

Johnny in Mexico, Gaz hanging from a helicopter. Price reaching out to pull Laswell up. Angels reaching down to sift through them - divine judgment.  

Our hands get dirty.

Words break through - voices he recognizes cutting through the veil.

-not a coma.

Johnny telling Simon's jokes to someone.

Always a fucking joke thief. 

Warm hands poking and prodding him. Cold air on the tip of his nose. 

The outline of an angel above him - golden halo shining when she reaches down to pull him close to her; away from the hell he's been swimming in.

Hazy.

***

"Why'd they call you Hazy?

"Maybe you should ask my former CO."

"We did. He gave a glowing recommendation. Said you never failed to give it your all to save a man."

Your all.

Tell that to the boys you left behind to rot. To the blood drying on the grout in your kitchen. You're sure they would have something else to say.

Her name's Laswell - CIA. The CIA never did you any favors before, but you ask for one now.

"Can I take a shower?"

She lets you. They're holding you in a hotel, no doubt blacked out on any internet searches, and really just a cover for the government to hide people whenever they want. But the water runs warm and red as you sit on the floor to wash your hair. You're escorted there by Gaz - the man who handed you a towel for Ghost. The only one who doesn't eye you in distrust. 

You know he's stationed outside the door in case you do anything stupid. They don't trust you - in their eyes, you're an enemy who lured Ghost into your house to torture him for information. 

A Judas Iscariot ready to be flung into the maw of Satan. 

You wonder what hospital they took Ghost to. 

***

Johnny's voice - a thousand Hail Marys. 

Ave maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.

The words sound ridiculous in Johnny's accent. Simon tries to make a note to tell him so. 

Simon's angel doesn't leave his dreams. She holds his hand, skin so soft against his calloused ones he feels like he'll break her if he holds too hard. She brushes his hair away from his forehead, fingers lingering on the scars left behind. Simon tries to speak to her, but she doesn't speak back - just rests her hands at the base of his neck. A tenderness he hasn't felt in years. 

"Why are you here?" 

He begs for an answer that doesn't come.

Wake up.

He's dragged away from her.

***

His buddy, Soap, apologizes at the hospital.

"I didnae know you were a soldier."

Not a soldier. But you don't correct him.

He takes you to see Ghost. Locked ward, two guards outside the door. A quick pat down across the clothes that aren't yours - a pair of shoes that are slightly too big.

His skull mask has been switched out for a plain surgical mask. It makes him look smaller, somehow.

"He hasn't woken up for the past three days," Soap says, trying to hide the rosaries in his pocket. 

"His body is trying to heal - his brain is slowing down metabolic function to prioritize healing." The words roll so smoothly from your tongue - the same words you used to tell families when their babies and husbands and daughters wouldn't wake up. 

They were lies 90% of the time.

Maybe this is the 10%.

His hair is still crusted with blood. You have the nurse bring you rags and a basin. Under Soap's watchful eyes, you wash Ghost's hair, his hands, his feet free of the blood crusted there. 

They let you go home to scrub the blood off of the floors and table, staining your knees and fingers red. You pretend not to notice Ghost's captain following you at a distance - pretend not to notice him standing across the street when you empty the mop water beside your steps. You do your best to puzzle-piece your door back together until you can get a new one. 

Your phone lights up: a text from your old captain - asking why the CIA was blowing his phone up. You leave him on read. 

When you sleep that night, you dream of the way Ghost grabbed your wrist.

***

His angel brings him back from the nightmares. Above them the heavens yawn - a thousand constellations. They lay on the backs in the wet grass and Ghost describes each one of them to her - how to use them to get home when you're in trouble. 

He doesn't let go of her hand. 

"Are you here to save me?" He asks, but she doesn't answer.  "Do I deserve it?"

Fingers intertwined. A gentle squeeze. She glows brighter when he says her name. 

"Please speak."

She traces the scars on his face and leaves him in silence.

***

Ghost's hands are rough beneath yours. Your mother taught you a prayer to use when you were little, but you can't get the words out of your mouth.

"Why's he so important to you?" Soap asks from across the room, refusing to make eye contact with you. 

"I spent a long time stitching men back together; I want to see one make it through."

Soap fingers the beads on his rosary. 

Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.

You trace the scars on Ghost's fingers - a prayer in flesh. You only speak to God when have something to ask.

He rarely answers. 

***

His angel waits for him - he sees her in the distance, golden-arrayed. She smiles at him - halo glowing brighter. She looks so happy to see him- there's a knife in his side. 

Wake up, Ghost.

She diminishes on the horizon. A phantom in the sunset. 

Come back.

Please Ghost.

A step away from him. A cracked link.

Come back.

Come back.

"Co-"

***

The hospital room explodes into bedlam. A doctor slams into you, pushing you out of the way. You let yourself fall into the wall; across the room, Soap stands bewildered, fingers running through his mohawk - hair standing on end. 

Ghost fights them, reaching across to yank the IVs out of his arm. You watch the blood pour from his hands - stigmata in reverse. Across the room, Soap tries to take a step towards the chaos - you stop him with a small shake of your head. 

Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio.

***

He's lost - fighting against the hands that attempt to hold him down. It's hell around him, fingers wrapped around his arms and legs trying to force him down. He wraps his hands around the IV in his arm - barely aware that they're there to help him. His veins burn. 

He's forced to the bed - the voices above him a dissonance that means nothing to him. His heart is slamming into his chest, fingers digging into the mattress when he sees her. 

Hazy.

His angel in the corner of the room. 

Simon is pinned to the bed with the weight of her eyes. 

He must still be dead. 

In his moment of weakness, he's is slammed back into the bed.

***

You watch as the nurses pin Ghost down to the bed, the doctor trying to break through to him. Soap pushes through them and grabs Ghost by the shoulder; Ghost jerks, and then looks at Soap. His eyes soften just slightly and his whole body relaxes beneath Soap's hand. 

You duck out of the room - heart slamming against the inside of your chest. 

You can't breath; fuck, he's alright. 

Fuck. 

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to stem the pictures flashing through your mind: screaming and sand; Ghost's blood dripping from your fingertips; covering bodies with your own to block them from shrapnel; the sound of Black Hawks overhead; Ghost looking up at you, bleeding out on your kitchen table. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

***

Johnny is talking faster than Simon can understand. The pain in his side nearly pulls him back under - he doesn't struggle when they put the IV back in. 

He cuts off Johnny mid sentence. 

"Hazy -"

Johnny looks at him confused, eyes flashing to the door. 

"She's outside; L.T. what happened the other night?

Simon tries to push himself up - he needs to track her down. To feel that she's real; to hear her speak again. The sight of her standing over him, golden halo'd won't leave his mind. His hands ache for the feeling of hers. 

"Johnny move."

"L.T. - you're fucking delusional. What happened to you?"

Simon grips the blanket with white knuckles, and thinks about the way Hazy traced the scars. He was dead. 

He was dead. 

***

You hear Soap and Ghost speaking in the room; you're gripping your shirt and pressing it into your face - trying to pull yourself back to the present. 

You saved him.

You saved him.

You're shaking when Soap approaches you, sliding down to the floor beside you.

"He says," his voice cracks, "he says that you're his angel. Keeps asking if you're real."

An angel.

Fuck.

You laugh, small and derisive. 

"I think I might be the opposite of an angel."

Your voice is muffled by your shirt. You feel so fucking stupid for breaking down from the sight of Ghost - nobody but a stranger. 

"I think you need to go see him."

***

Johnny leads her in, hand on her elbow. A flash of anger. 

Take your fucking hands off of her. 

Like he can read his mind, Johnny drops her elbow and turns around - letting the door to the room shut behind him. She stands at the doorway, hands held behind her back. She doesn't look at him - doesn't speak.

His stomach flips - his angel won't look at him. 

"Are you real?"

The corner of her mouth lifts. 

"Are you?"

He wants to beg her to come closer, to touch him, to trace the scars on his face. He wants to rip his mask off so that she can see him. But he keeps his hands pressed to the mattress. 

"Why did you save me?"

She smooths an invisible wrinkle in her jeans. 

"Just my instinct I guess."

"I thought you were an angel."

She crosses the room - slowly at first, but faster until she sits down in the chair Johnny had been in. She keeps her hands folded in her lap and her gaze pointed down. 

"I probably made a shitty angel didn't I?"

"Hazy."

She looks up at the sound of her name. Ghost leans back; eyes screwed up against the fluorescent light. 

"That's not your real name is it?" Ghost asks. Tell me your real one. Please.

"Is Ghost yours?"

"Not even close."

***

You leave him in the hospital - a quick good-bye and a promise that you'll come back to see him. 

You don't go back. 

You dream about Ghost every night; waking up gripping the sheets with the taste of blood in your mouth. The second coming of grief when you find his blood on the underside of your kitchen table.

***

Simon thinks he's stupid - she didn't come see him for a reason. She doesn't want to see him. It's been a year - she's probably forgotten him by now.

Fuck.

His feet carry him up the steps and he knocks before he can stop himself. 

Simon Riley doesn't believe in angels. 

But his opens the door.

***

tag list: @random-thot-generator, @stillinracooncity,

[judasgot-it]

I was originally going to upload this as part of an ask I got but I feel like I got carried away, so I decided to upload this separately. I'll upload it eventually, it's literally been 6 months I'm so sorry bro.

1.5 k words

Scenario: Grocery shopping date with Tecchou

Admittedly Tecchou was sometimes a bit boring. At least that's what he was told. He was just a man who enjoyed those simple things in life.

Like watching ants on the ground. For 8 hours. Call it weird and boring, although that's just how Tecchou preferred to spend some of his work hours.

He was getting paid for it.

Or his lunch. Usually, it was just something plain, like mashed potatoes and vanilla yogurt. Maybe some mayonnaise if he felt fancy.

If it's left up to him, it's whatever he can he really finds himself thinking up of on the spot.

His dates with you usually went the same way. If he could, he would sleep in every day and get takeout - maybe do laundry and watch an old movie the two of you never had the chance to see because of his job.

Like right now? It was just grocery shopping. Maybe it was boring. Run of the mill, even.

But it was miles better than dying on the battlefield. Walking boring plain tiles were better than stepping over dead bodies. So, today was a complete win for him.

It was all pushing the grocery cart and debating the price of bagels today - the perfect ideal in his world. Seeing you check off your list with a smile, then walking back across the store because you forgot something was the best thing he could imagine doing on his day off.

There wasn't any rush. With you - he could pretend that the price of bagels was the most important thing in his life. He could pretend that he actually cared about picking up dish soap or not.

You were safe. The two of you were walking side by side, with no danger anywhere in sight.

He really felt no need to run anywhere.

This was a perfect date. An ideal one, if there were anything like that out there.

Of course, life sometimes doesn't go his way, and he's forced to deal with something out of one of the circles of hell.

The fucking return counter.

He had no problem public speaking. It was a big part of his job after all - but by god did he hate it when it came to the mundane.

Why does he have to download the store app? Why do only some of his coupons work and others don't? Why is there no tag on the item he specifically came to the store to buy, the only brand of peanut butter he could seem to find in this part of Yokohama?

Tecchou isn't one to complain, he understands the meanings of law and order very well - he is an officer, after all. But sometimes, every once and a while, he will find himself stuck in the position of what an ordinary man's hell is like.

Peanut butter and discount items. The ordinary.

Today that hell is spent with you at the return counter, waiting for them to find the correct price of his goddamn peanut butter because no one is paying an extra 3 dollars for that.

Luckily, you were there with him, so today's hell was quite bearable.

"When we get back home, what movie do you want to watch?"

Tecchou turned to you, broken out of his thoughts.

You were rummaging through the bags on his arms, looking for the snacks the two of you had bought. Not fair, since Tecchou still had to wait for his peanut butter thanks to the hell that was this store.

How could it even be called a convenience store? What was this lady doing? She had spent forever looking for the price.

"I don't know. Wasn't there a movie you wanted to watch?"

There was a scoff as you looked up at him.

"That's not fair, I picked last time."

You were cute as you pouted out your lip, acting as if he were an insolent child.

"I don't really care what we watch. Spending time with you is what's important."

If Tecchou could, he would rather stare at you all day. Even if you'd rather hide behind your hair or stare at down at your hands. Was there something catching your eye?

"Right. Well uh..."

You looked away completely, staring off somewhere towards the floor. He tried to follow your eyes, seeing what you were looking at.

Maybe it was a cool bug he hadn't noticed.

"Sir, I fixed the price."

Finally.

He looked to the counter to get his peanut butter. Although, as he tried to grab it, the girl held it back. Her nails grazed his skin, the texture making him want to vomit.

What?

"I'm gonna need something from you before I give this to you, actually."

Tecchou looked back at you, and then back at the lady at the counter.

"I already paid?"

"Oh, I know."

He stared at her.

"And?"

She giggled, looking him up and down. Whatever she was on, it had to be illegal because this was just stupid.

"I want your number, hottie." She winked, her fingers grazing the top of the peanut butter cap. Somewhere in the back of the store, Tecchou heard the normal sounds of groceries being bagged and checked out - a sound he was jealous of for once in his life.

This question felt like a riddle of some sort. 

"How did you know I was in the military?" 

He hadn't worn anything showing he was in the hunting dogs whatsoever, which made him rather concerned - why would a civilian ask for his service number? He didn't even have his sword visible on his person, so how would someone like a store clerk know to ask that question?

All he recieved back was a blank stare. 

"Um. I think we should go now. Thanks for fixing my boyfriends peanut butter."

You saved the conversation, grabbing the peanut butter gruffly and shoving it in the bag. Tecchou couldn't see your face still, but as you grabbed his hand, he felt how iron tight your grip was - your skin changing shades as you tightened your hold on him.

With unhurried steps, followed your quicker ones out the doors - the sound barely registering as you nearly rushed away from the building in a sprint, as if seeing a ghost. 

Your back stayed against him, brushing against his shoulder every once and a while as he struggled to keep pace with you and your uneven movements.

"Babe."

He gently shook the arm you had held, trying to get your attention. It forced you to stop, but you were still avoidant, staring anywhere but at him - your eyes hidden by the shadows of the now blue hour of the winter. 

Tecchou pulled you hand closer, seeing how the air that blew out of your mouth condensed into a thick fog, your hand quickly losing its squishy warmth and turning as cold as the air surrounding the two of you.

"What's wrong?"

You shook your head, a whine whistling through your throat. Tecchou watched as you laid your entire body against his, feeling your body weight smack against his. He didn't complain, simply wrapping his free arm against your shoulders, pulling you closer.

"Tecchou, did you realize she was flirting with you?"

"Who?"

That broke some invisible dam inside of you, as you broke down, laughing so loud it almost sounded like a sob. You were holding onto him for support, your knees nearly buckling underneath you.

Tecchou tried his best to wait it out, holding onto you as you caused a small wet stain on his coat. He was almost concerned, seeing you breakdown over nothing so quickly. Before he could even open his mouth to ask if you were ok, you cut him off, more serious than ever.

"You didn't know that store clerk was flirting with you, right?"

Straight into the eyes you looked at him, gripping on the coat around his waist and feeling for his sword there. Almost like a threat.

Smiling, he shook his head, carefully taking your hands away from his sword. He didn't want any chances.

"No. I was more concerned about how she knew I'm a hunting dogs member. Do you think she might be a threat, possibly? Normal civilians shouldn't be able to notice those things."

Tecchou rested his head against yours, rubbing his hands up against your shoulders as he stayed deep in thought. Your hands climbed around to fall against the small of his back, Tecchou feeling as your smaller hands pressed his coat against his skin.

It made him feel warm. Even as he felt you continue to giggle, your warm breaths fanning against his throat as he tried to decode who that clerk was - your body pressed against his, your days groceries knocking between your thighs.

It made him feel a sort of domestic warmth, creeping a smile against his face.

[inklore]

—🍊. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐔'𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓

this is not a writing challenge, this is just a list of summer au's that have been collecting dust in my google docs that i'm both sick of looking at, and also feel like for those who also really enjoy writing summery fics, could always use more inspiration or ideas for au's or scenario's (even if it's just smutty or fluffy blurbs).

please make note that anyone can use these for any fandom or character. it's literally for everyone, for whatever ship, gender, or verse. no one owns au's and everyone makes them their own and writes differently. so please do with the content below as you wish!!

you don't gotta tag me if you use one but would i love to read your beautiful work? hell yeah so feel free to if ya feel like it.

i separated each into categories + some might have added context or prompts because i have zero self control and like to be extra and add ideas onto things lmao.

hopefully someone finds these fun and helpful, happy writing my loves <3

LOCATION.

beach

ocean

ice cream parlor

lake town

ranch

summer camp

summer school

island

boat

fishing town

resort

the woods

national park

public pool

destination wedding

renaissance fair

lake house

bar

theme park

capecod

italy

winery / vinyards

country club

cruise ship

concert

RELATIONSHIP BASED.

brothers best friend ('unfortunately' spending the summer with your family)

neighbors au

exes back for the summer

bodyguard au (character a has to follow around reader whose some princess/rich girl on a vacation, bonus points if she's supposed to be on lockdown but refuses to stay at the hotel, even more bonus points if her parents sent her on this vacation as a rehabilitation for her bad habits)

best friends dad (you're spending the summer with your bestie and god her dads hot as hell)

mermaid x human

frat boy x good girl (last minute studying together before summer break, or maybe the frat is throwing a big grad party and reader decides to let loose for the first time in forever)

frat boy x sorority girl (it's giving rich hoes who can't stand each other who get caught doing something and have to do community service with each other alllll summerrrrr long, can you think of anything worse?!)

sitcom stars (they're both on some summer love show but fall for each other instead, or you're two celebs supposed to be fake dating on some mtv drama show in palm springs but you actually fall for each other)

park ranger x someone who thought going camping alone would be fun but oh shit i know nothing about the wilderness au

ex-best friends ex (a summer love but put revenge and 'we're only fucking because this friend screwed me over and it'll really show them' au anyone??)

lifeguard x parent au (or you saved my life let me repay you wink wink)

dads best friend

house sitter x house owner (or neighbor, or family member who came home early and wtf are you doing here and who are you?? or even the old i asked the neighbor to watch our house but also my wife wink wink)

babysitter who tags along on vacation with the family au

fake dating (for the summer)

friends to lovers was made for summer au's!!!

superhero x vigilante (nightly meet ups to keep the streets safe)

friends with benefits but only for the summer au

painter x muse

body found on beach x person who found them (+ the added bonus of the two of them working together to figure out wtf happened and how they got there)

sugar baby x sugar whathaveyou (free vacation? hell yeah)

roommates (renting a room for summer what could go wrong)

tour guide / local x tourist

camp counselor x parent of camper

friend group on a drama filled vacay au

the only single people at this resort for couples au

sad housewife x pool boy

DARK THEMED.

cult au

slasher au

hitchhiking gone wrong (or right)

monster au (summer is the perfect time to go exploring for the monster in the woods or the lake, ocean even, obviously)

haunted house au

ghost hunting au

hunter x prey (bonus points if they don't know they're being hunted until it's too late)

safe house au (gone wrong)

kidnapping au (it's giving 365 days but less shitty ok)

stranded au (on an island, in a creepy town, etc)

bestie's trip gone wrong au (the innocent looking guys at the pool who are gorgeous are actually super shitty and deadly omg, or the couple in the hotel room next to us are insane wow, or someone is killing us off...but it's someone within the friend group)

stuck in an abandoned amusement park au

INSPIRED BY.

grease au

dirty dancing au

x au (70s-80s pornstars au + added slasher element if ya wanna make it dark)

daisy jones & the six / rocker au (summer tour anyone?)

the white lotus (cheating au?? a couple hoping a vacation will fix their marriage, maybe even the whole shitty husband leaves you there and you fall for one of the resort workers)

50 first dates au (but make it 'i bet i can make you fall in love with me by the end of summer)

jurassic park au

i know what you did last summer au

friday the 13th au

the final girls au (aka you end up in your favorite movie and have to find your way out with a side of 'oh shit there's my fav character what if i stayed and made them fall in love with me instead', or go full final girls au and you're stuck in a cult horror movie and have to survive the night to get out of it)

outer banks / goonies au

schitt's creek au

romeo and juliet (1996) au

mama mia au (the prequeal tho aka boning a bunch of people and omg i'm pregnant who is the baby daddy tho??)

overboard au

OCCUPATIONS.

naturalist

farmers market vender

dog walker / dog sitter

dive bar singer

surfer

swim instructor

vet

journalist

camp counselor

author

cowboy

undercover pi

contractor

car wash attendant

lifeguard

gardener / landscaper

summer intern

tour guide

tutor

nanny

theme park owner

bartender

house sitter

summer farmhand

golf course caddy

sign-holder

movie theatre worker

uber driver

wedding photographer

hotel receptionist

RANDOM.

heatwave (how ever will we stay cool?)

shipwreck / stranded on an island au

rainstorm / hurricane au (stuck inside oh no what will we do??)

love triangle that shit

matchmaking au

love letters in a bottle au

drunken karaoke

kissing in the rain is top tier

workaholic letting loose au

(illegal) car racing au

road trip au

[isa-ghost]

Phil and bagi hcs?

YOU HAVE JUST ENABLED A MONSTER.

I AM SO ABNORMAL ABOUT THESE TWO.

Also these will apply to AMFMN!! Because SURPRISE, if no one has checked the fic tags, her name is listed as a main character. ;) She'll be arriving in Chapter 6!! :D

I cannot fucking WAIT to expand upon their dynamic, which is funny because by the time Bagi shows up, Phil is possessed so it won't be exploration through direct interactions until the recovery period waaay later in the fic. Nonetheless it'll be hype! :D

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Phil is a member of the "Bagi can do whatever she wants forever" club. He supports her rights and wrongs and fully believes she could kick his ass no matter how unbalanced of a fight it'd be in his favor (disclaimer I don't actually know Bagi's exact pvp skill level 🤔)

Bagi is a member of the "God I want Phil to take me on a flight some day, I am so sad his wings are fucked up" club. (She would probably be terrified /pos)

I don't know what it is about their friendship but I feel like Bagi is so much more attuned to the way Phil thinks than the average islander. I guess I'd say it's because of how perceptive she is in general, especially with how she's a detective? Whatever it is, Bagi just has this talent for reading Phil like a damn book. And she won't hesitate to call him on his bullshit either. She's much like Fit in that regard. Crow man can't hide SHIT

Like fr if Phil ever gave Bagi reason to be concerned the first thing she'd do is start cornering those closest to him and either ask what's up or be like "hey Phil's on some shit rn, we gotta go force him to confess whatever stupid shit he's shouldering on his own and bottling up"

Phil has definitely been whacked with the frying pan for not venting and acting like he has to brave the horrors alone btw. Bagi's the type of friend that'll kick your fucking ass if you're not self-caring or being mean to yourself. (I am projecting LMAO)

Bagi isn't as Holy Shit We Could Die Any Second about things as Phil, but they're both very protective people, which can manifest in very volatile ways when they're hurt or angered by something (ie: Feds). I would not want to experience their individual wraths simultaneously.

Bagi is one of the top people Phil shows his gift giving love language to. Be it resources she needs, pictures he's taken of her/Em/Tina or of weird island shit, the means to complete cookie tasks, etc. She's one of the first in mind.

GOD Phil wants her to teach him how to wield a frying pan so badly. He's an excellent swordsman and bowman, but PAN?? The enjoyment he'd get out of it would be infinite, he'd love to be kicking ass while getting a laugh out of it bc pan go BONG when it hits a motherfucker.

If one needs something the other says yes no hesitation. They might ask each other a couple questions, but as soon as they have 100% clarity, they trust each other with the rest and know that if something goes wrong, whoever is present at the time will unleash hell on the person or monster that caused it.

I've somewhat already hinted at it but GOD the mutual admiration they have for each other!! Their wits and way with words, their natural sense of leadership, their determination to defend what they believe in, what they think is right, and the people they love, their specific expertise, the list goes on. They just think the other is so fucking cool and brilliant.

Tbh I think in the right circumstances they'd teach each other some lowkey fucked up tricks they have up their sleeves. Like Bagi giving Phil insight on manipulating people into giving the answers you're looking for by asking the right carefully worded questions, or Phil teaching Bagi the best spots to hit/hurt a person/mob to really do some damage just purely as a "hey if you ever find yourself in a Situation, here's a tip" thing

I don't know how better to show this without explicitly saying it: These two are not the other's fucking caretaker. Phil is not Bagi's father figure and Bagi is not Phil's mother figure. Yes, they can scold each other when the other is doing something dumb (cough, 7 hcs ago, cough). Friends do that. They support each other and call each other on their bs. That is not parenting, that's being a good friend. And they are to each other.

On that note, it hasn't come up too much yet but when shit sucks (like when the eggs were lost or lost lives), they're good at distracting each other. But like without halting the process of dealing with their emotions. If they're sad, they'll be sad together, but they're good at picking the right conversation topics to lighten the mood. If they're mad, they'll be mad together, and they'll plan what to do about it with each other.

I think I've sorta demonstrated it well enough in a couple of these hcs already but AUGH, they're just. So on the same page with each other almost all the time. And when they aren't, they're so good at giving each other perspectives they didn't think of before. Which, I don't mean to compare Bagi to her brother here, but is also how Phil and Cellbit can be with each other too; though they've somewhat fallen out of that sync post-Purgatory. The way the Mystery Siblings are so on the same wavelength as Phil makes me so *slams fist on desk*

Phil is normally a very Just Vibin' kinda guy but Bagi can get him into some really deep intellectual conversations sometimes and it's so 🍿🍿🍿 to watch

[cowboybeepboop]

R u mine?

“Will you go out with me,”

“Well you fucked me multiple times, so i guess a date wouldnt be too bad,”

Part one ☝️ can be read as a stand-alone tho I think

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem! Reader

Genre: plot with some porn

Word count: 3627

Summary: neither of you wanted just a one night stand, but you were too stubborn to admit to it.

Warnings: jealous steve, gross sex (and not in the fun way), Sex with Tommy Hagan, there is like no cheating between any of the characters (Steve and reader, tommy and carol), degradation, semi public sex, choking, name calling, hair pulling, the degradation randomly turning into praise, my work is never proof-read

A/N: In this eddie isn't dead and like the upside down isn't mentioned like ever. Theres also like a scene with Tommy Hagan and like some very awkward sex between him and reader. I would also like to say that I normally do not post series and this is going to be the last part. However, if you guys would like to be tagged in any future steve related smut, you're free to comment or pm me <3

It’s been two weeks. A whole two weeks since your fuck-a-thon with none other than your sisters bestfriend. And god, it was all you could think of.

Fuck he was the first guy to ever bring you to orgasm. He’s so goddamn perfect, everything he did for you, he's all you think about day and night.

The pair of you have decided to try and pretend Robin didn't catch you sharing a bed half-naked, or at least she thought you were half-naked. Thankfully, Rob can be very dense sometimes and she thought nothing of it. Even though you were covered in hickeys and he had scratches all down his back, but who knows, maybe she just didn't notice.

Steve has done unbelievably well with pretending nothing happened, but for you it’s nearly impossible. Everytime you see him your heart pounds and your cunt aches.

Youre sort of angry with him, I mean, why the fuck hasn’t he even mentioned anything. Yes, of course you agreed to never speak of it, but still, the man came inside of you. Doesn't that mean anything to him?

You’re angrily chewing on your bottom lip, tapping your pen against the table, fuck that shit. You should’ve known, it’s Steve fucking Harrington. He’s known to just fuck around, but you know what, two can play at that game.

“Hey Robby,” you pout to your sister, who looks up at you.

“What is it? You've barely even been paying attention, I've been cheating this whole time and you don't even care?” she narrows her eyes at you tossing the yahtzee dice at you.

“Sorry, I know, it’s just that my mind was elsewhere,” you sigh, giving her puppy dog eyes, she rolls hers in response.

“Whatever, I get it,” she huffs while crossing her arms over her chest.

“We should go to a party tonight,” your eyes light up with your idea and she scratches her neck.

“Y/N, you know parties aren't my thing,” Robin stretches.

“Yeah but it could be fun, plus I heard that Carol is throwing some epic party at her parents lake house tonight,” you throw your arms around her neck, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Ew, why the hell would you want to go to one of her parties?” she pushes you away, “plus we have that camping trip with my friends tomorrow, I don’t think that showing up hungover is the best idea.”

“We both know that Jonathan is going to be high off his ass with Argyle and Eddie, who cares if I’m a little hungover?” pursing your lips you continue giving her puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, fine. We can go, but I’m calling Steve and Eddie to see if they’ll take us. I don’t want you getting drunk and lost.” you clench your jaw.

“Jesus it happened one time. Would you let it go already?” you glare at your younger sister while she laughs softly.

“Well, whatever. Can you help me get ready? I don't really know how to dress for those kinds of events.” robin follows you up the stairs keeping at your heels.

“Yes! Of course,” you perk up in excitement, “my baby girl is all grown up,” you squish her cheeks and push her to the edge of your bed before searching your closet for a skimpy dress. You know it’s definitely not what Robin was wanting, but it's probably what she was expecting, you’re all for people exploring their sexuality. Which is why you were shocked to find that Rob wasn’t all that interested in meaningless hookups, but then again, not everyone can be as careless as you. Plus it's probably better that she's staying safe.

“Okay, so I know this isn't exactly something you'd normally go for, but..” you hand her a keyhole red halter top and a black pleather mini-skirt. “It's a little showy for you, however, it's so hot. I mean goddamn, you'll have every girl swooning for you. Promise.” Robin flushes deep red.

“Are you sure?” she looks extremely unsure, “ i don't want to look like an out of place weirdo..” she looks all around the room avoiding my eyes.

“Robin, shut the fuck up, youre absolutely stunning. It doesn’t matter if it's not your normal style, you're beautiful in everything.” your eyebrows furrow.

She breathes a sigh of relief, “okay, i'll change right now.'' Robin is a little insecure but she knows she'll survive.

__________

About an hour and a half later, Robin has secured your ride and you’ve finished getting yourself ready. You were so glad Robin insisted that Steve accompany you to the party. It makes your plan that much easier to execute.

You knew for a fact that Tommy Hagan would be at the party, even if it's his ex girlfriends. He NEVER misses a good party and he can NEVER resist a girl dressed in green. Which is exactly why you chose an extremely short sparkly green dress with a semi see-through top. You even wore a matching green lace set underneath, you weren't sure how far you planned to take it but if anything Tommy is a good distraction right?

The sound of Eddie's van pulling into your driveway fills the silent living room, sucking in a deep breath as you stick your hands into your bra, pulling your tits up making sure they don't look anything less than perfect. Fuck Steve. God you want to fuck Steve so bad.

Robin lets the boys inside, offering them some water or snacks as you finish getting ready. A smirk paints itself on your features as you trample down the stairs.

“Rob, stop trying to stall. Let’s go,” you link arms with her pulling her out the door. You were completely oblivious to the pair of brown eyes glued to your ass.

“Jesus Steve, dont cream your pants just yet.” Eddie pushes Harrington's shoulder lightly before jogging to the driver's side of his van. “Hurry up before we leave,” Steve rolls his eyes, speed walking to the vehicle.

__________

About 30 minutes into the party you're tipsy and dancing with the still sober Robin, that is until an orange haired girl pulls her off to the side to talk with her. Puffing your cheeks, you continue dancing. The alcohol running through your veins gave you more confidence than usual. Soon enough a pair of strong warm hands found themselves on your hips.

You didn't even have to turn around, you knew exactly who it was. Tommy. His sickening cologne said it all, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You push your ass against him, grinding against his hard on, you throw your head against his shoulder allowing him to run his hands all over your body.

His lips find their way to your neck pressing sloppy kisses all over the place, his hand moves down your stomach and then the hem of your skirt. Tommy spins you around, placing his hands on your ass while you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Let's find a room,” you bite your lip while giving him a seductive look, “sound good big boy?” you lick your bottom lip while rubbing your leg against his crotch.

“Fuck yeah,” tommy wraps a hand around your wrist, guiding you into an empty bathroom.

Unfortunately or fortunately, Steve saw this exchange and followed the two of you. Tommy closed and locked the door before he could stop you from going in with him. Harrington clenches his fists, for a while he contemplates breaking the door down.

What the hell were you thinking? If you needed a good time you should have gone to him, rather than tommy the fucking prick hagan.

Tommy was sucking hard hickeys onto your breasts and shoulders while awkwardly slamming his dick inside you. He’s too fucking thick to realize that youre bone dry and youre not enjoying a single second of this exchange.

You continue to fake enjoyment regardless, moaning loud “Yes! Yes! Tommy, right there” and “I’m so close”, he roughly shoves your head against the wall as he speeds up. God it felt like he was starting a fire inside you, and not in a good way. He finally cums, you pretend to have an orgasm as he leans against you trying to catch his breath.

“We should do that again soon,” he winks at you, the second he unlocks the door Steve slams it open.

“Tommy get the fuck out. Now.” you've never been scared of steve before, but the look of pure rage in his eyes has you trying to make yourself invisible. Hagan leaves with a huff.

“Steve, she isn't some sort of property. Didn't mommy ever teach you to share your toys,” he chuckles as the door slams in his face. You hop off the sink, crossing your arms over your chest shooting a glare at steve.

“What the fuck,” you push a finger into his chest, “why are you so fucking worked up. Mind your own business honey.” slipping your panties back on your reach for the doorknob, Steve blocks you from the door. His eyes scanning your face, he relaxes his jaw slightly, trying to calm himself down.

“Are you fucking drunk?” he whisper yells at you, “What the hell, youre supposed to be the responsible one. Robin is worried fucking sick and youre up here fucking some douche in the bathroom. For fucks sake Y/N. why are you so fucking reckless.'' His stern voice sends chills down your body.

“Steve, get out of my way,” you maintain eye contact, baling your hands up into fists.

“Fine,” he moves out of the way, letting you walk out. You slam the door and stomp down the stairs, Steve runs his hand through his hair. He notices the soiled condom in the trash and kicks the bin so hard it breaks. “FUCK.” he yells.

You managed to find Eddie and Robin in a small corner which is a little secluded. “Hey, Y/N have you seen Steve?” your sister questions with flushed cheeks, she's tripping over her own feet, quite obviously tipsy.

“No, I haven’t. But maybe you and I should get fresh air while Eds looks for him, hm?” she nods, wrapping her arms around your neck. You guide her out the door, helping her into the back of the van. She lays down, putting her head in your lap.

__________

Eddie shows up an hour late, making up some dumb excuse about what took so long. Rovin definitely didn't mind the extra sleep, you helped him load up your stuff before climbing in the back of the van with nance and jonathan.

It's kinda awkward seeing him again after the last conversation you had. You knew for a fact that he told nancy so as soon as eddie runs back inside to help robin get the beers you guys bought for the trip you burst out.

“Look i didnt mean anything, it was some stupid dare that harrington gave me. I would hate for you guys to get the wrong idea.” you stare at the floor with a deep blush spreading on your cheeks.

“I figured as much, you were the first person to encourage us to get together, I doubt you'd try and break us apart.” Nancy gives you a sweet smile patting your shoulder softly. A relieved expression finds its way onto your face, robin hops into the van next to you.

“OK, just one more stop and then we'll be on our way to the campsite.” Eddie smiles in the mirror, brushing his bangs behind his ear.

You really, really don't want to see Harrington, like at all. So you decide to fake a nap against the robin before you actually fall asleep.

Steve was restless in the passenger seat, the peaceful look on your face was driving him insane. His mind wanders back to earlier this morning, the second he got home he grabbed the panties he previously stole and fucked his fist with them wrapped around his hard dick.

He honestly lost count of how many times he came into your panties, he was furious. Especially with himself, its not like he was your boyfriend, he had no right to be so pissed that you were fucking someone else.

But for fucks sake, he was in the same house as you. Couldn't you have had the decency to leave with Tommy or even better, hook up with some other asshole. Steve was beyond jealous, he just barely fulfilled his fantasy of making love to you.

__________

“Okay so we have three tents,” Nancy taps her chin, “who wants to stay with who, Jon and I are obviously sharing,” Jonathan smiles warmly while wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

“As much as I enjoy your friendship, I think it’d be uncomfortable having both of us in the same tent,” Eddie says to Steve, patting his shoulder with a coy smirk.

“Yeah you're right, maybe we can share a tent,'' Robin locks arms with eddie.

“So Y/N and Steve, you've got to share the last tent,” he folds his arms over his chest.

“I’ll just sleep outside,” he clenches his jaw and walks off to get “firewood”.

You roll your eyes, where does he get off acting like such a douche bag. Eddie follows Harrington, Jonathan continues putting together his and Nancy’s tent.

“What the hell is that all about?” Nancy questions, crossing her arms over her chest, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Yeah, what happened with you guys last night?” Robin questions with a soft tone. Her eyes filled with worry, she chews on her bottom lip.

“It’s nothing, he just walked in on tommy and i after we,” you smirk softly, “after he thought he gave me the best sex of my life,” you laugh.

“Why did you hook up with him?” the girl's face contorts in disgust while you just shrug.

“I dunno, he was just there,” you plop down on a foldable chair, “it wasn't even worth it though.'' Nancy laughs loudly.

“Of course it was shit, it’s fucking Tommy Hagan.” Robin smiles wide.

__________

Jonathan and eddie have gotten high off their asses, laughing at dumb shit even the fucking trees. Steve is talking to Robin, ignoring your presence.

“Hey guys, imma head to bed,” you cover your mouth yawning silently, they all tell you goodnight. You smile before unzipping the tent, slipping in and zipping it back up. You change into some skimpy lingerie, I know really not the most practical but you suck at actually doing laundry so you’ll have to survive, sneaking under the covers you sigh.

Shivers run down your spine, as rain starts to lightly pour down. You can hear Nancy and Robin scolding Steve and yelling at him to go inside your tent.

“Whatever, fine I’ll go in, just get out of the fucking rain.” Steve's voice is right outside the tent, you suck in a deep breath turning to face the side of the tent. Harrington pulls the zipper carefully, trying to not wake you up, “Shit,” he whispers as he pulls his shoes off.

Your body is shaking uncontrollably, the cold mixed with your stupid lace nightie and the lack of body warmth in the stupid tent. “Hey, are you still awake?” you bite your tongue, squeezing your eyes shut tightly hoping he doesn't notice you're faking it.

“Goddamn it dumbass,” he pulls his sleeping bag on top of yours, throwing the thick blanket he brought along over you. “You’re freezing your fucking ass off,” steve slides into your sleeping bag, pushing his body into yours.

His breathing regulates as he snores softly, you stay wide awake with heat building in your panties, biting down on your lip you sink your hand into your panties. Running your index and middle fingers though your folds, pressing hard circles into your clit, the pleasure has your eyebrows furrowing, eyes closing and desperate pants falling from your lips.

This is probably the most horny you've ever been, no matter what you've never stooped to this level. You've never fantasized about someone while they were right there, right next to you with their hands under your breast, the emotions are just too overwhelming, you just want him.

Using your free hand you cover your mouth trying to hold back moans, leaning your head back you insert a finger into your hole. “Princess, what are you doing?” Steve whispers into your ear, you cease all movements, his hands move up squeezing your boobs roughly. “Was it not enough that you fucked Tommy last night? Are you that big of a slut?” his hand slips into your panties he pulls your hand away and he pushes two fingers into your cunt.

A loud moan rings in the air, Steve wraps his hand around your neck, “Careful Princess, wouldn't want everyone to know just how much of a whore you are,” biting down on your lip you try to stay quiet. Harrington finger fucks you roughly, rubbing your clit with his thumb, keeping his animalistic pace.

“Pathetic slut,” his voice comes out in a hiss as you cum around his fingers, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your toes curl. Steve pulls his pants off, palming thick cock through his boxers, “suck me off Y/N” he grabs a handful of your hair pulling you close to his crotch. You pull down his boxers wrapping both hands around his cock, pushing the tip in your mouth slowly bobbing your head.

“Good girl, just like that,” he pushes your head down softly causing you to gag on his length. Steve groans, throwing his head against his pillow allowing his hips to buck into your mouth, your eyes begin to water. His pace starts to grow sloppy, your throat becoming sore, he pulls you up on his chest.

“Fuck why are you wearing that?” he pulls your nightie off causing your nipples to pebble instantly, his hands rest on your sides as he grinds you down on him.

“I forgot to do laundry,” you say softly, “do you have a condom?” he smirks.

“Yeah in my wallet,” you grab his wallet as Steve takes his shirt off, he's decided you're taking too long. Harrington creeps up behind you, kissing your spine gently, his hands wrap around to squeeze your boobs.

“Steve, be patient.” you grab the gold foil wrapper and put it in steve's hand, you put his wallet back away and crawl over to him. Watching him slide the rubber over his throbbing cock, you throw your panties over by the pile of clothes, he motions for you to come closer.

“Y/N get over here,” your heart rate increases as his hands rest on your hips, pushing his dick into your soaked pussy, a quiet gasp rings through the silent tent. “You’ll have to be quiet,'' Steve says sternly, furrowing his eyebrows as he lays his head against his pillow, having you riding him was enough to kill him.

You pick up your pace, grinding your hips against Steves, the echoing sound of your skins slapping could probably be heard twenty feet away. Harrington didn't care, whenever you slowed your pace he would grip your ass and bounce it on his cock, making sure to fill you with pleasure.

Steve uses his middle and pointer finger to rub sloppy circles into your sensitive nub, causing your body to jerk forward and your eyes to flutter shut, soft moans fill his ears. You wrap your arms around his neck, biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet, he runs his hand through your hair pulling your head back.

His eyes narrow in on the reddish-purple marks Tommy left the night before, his jaw goes slack, he flips you on your back. He sucks rough marks all over your neck, he fucks into you furiously, the whole tent around you moving back and forth along with steve.

“You like that? Fucking slut,” he wraps a hand around your throat squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air.

Steve throws his head back in pleasure, you begin to tighten up around him drawing out a long groan. “Steve,” you chant his name, “more, please I need more,”, he complies with your desires and angles your bodies so he hits even deeper.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan into his ear, he slows down pulling you against his chest, you climax around him. Steve bucks up into you one last time before he cums, filling the condom. He pulls out, takes off the condom and ties the top, he quickly gets dressed.

You begin to stress, once he opens the zipper to the tent you're still sat naked, fully exposed to the cold air. It begins to feel like there's something stuck in the back of your throat, Steve comes back into the tent, zipping it back up.

“Why didn't you get dressed, you're freezing,'' Steve pulls his sweatshirt off and puts it on for you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I have a question for you,” he chews his lip while looking into your eyes.

“What is it?” you play with the sleeves of his favorite sweater before slipping under the covers once again.

“Will you go out with me,” Steve cracks his neck before following suit and laying next to you.

“Well you fucked me multiple times, so i guess a date wouldnt be too bad,” he smiles pulling you against him, burying your head into his chest.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispers into your ear before kissing the top of your head.

@urs-angel @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom

[lotties-ashwagandha]

CHRISTMAS WITH THE YELLOWJACKETS (headcanons)

SHAUNA

will forget to wrap your gifts until the very last minute and then spends hours wrapping , chugs a whole pot of coffee in preparation as if she bleeds espresso

her gifts are very thoughtful tho she gives the best christmas presents. shes perceptive to things you like and want, even if you don’t tell her she’ll notice if you’re eyeing something in a store while you’re out and will get it for you when you’re not looking

she can’t be fucked w christmas cookies though she’ll buy some at the store and plate them up all pretty and tell everyone she made them herself

anyway. she is passionate about the christmas tree (why does that sound dirty?) she needs the ornaments to be all in the right place and the lights to be equally distributed or else everything’s coming off and she’s putting it back on the right way

LOTTIE

NEEDS the entire wellness center to be decorated or else her seasonal depression makes her want to be chasing bitches through the woods with knives (again)

from the 5 exact same fics in the lottie tag i think we’ve all established that she can’t bake cookies even though she tries exceedingly hard

she buys all the seasonal coffee creamers that are all the fucked flavors , you’ll get in the fridge and be faced with “gingerbread candy cane sugar cookie mcgriddle subway sandwich taissa’s fresh farmed dirt” flavored coffee creamer

i can also see her getting hyperfixated on those “christmas baking championship” series , you don’t watch the show but you know everyone who’s eliminated each week by name

TAISSA

prepares a whole pot of dirt for the two of you

“I got this bucket of dirt from outside the boxing gym, it really packs a punch”

i’ll never not make fun of this bitch for eating dirt I’m sorry

anyway she probably hides your christmas presents but forgets where she hides them and then she has a little easter egg hunt for everything she bought you

you’ll be doing spring cleaning a few months later and be like oh my god look at _____ i told you i wanted this for christmas have you been hiding it???? and she’s like oh

she also has the BEST christmas songs playlist , possibly even better than van’s

VAN

if she buys you clothes they’ll be thrifted and she has this whole thing about how she doesn’t support fast fashion and at this point you’ve stopped asking for clothes bc girl keeps giving you dusty ass 60s shit and not the good kind

has old copies of all the good vintage christmas movies tho and you have movie nights with popcorn and blankets

she has a favorite peppermint scented candle that she always lights when you’re doing something christmassy, baking cookies or watching movies or whatever it may be

decorates the shop for christmas ‼️ and you help her and it’s absolutely gorgeous , she plays christmas carols all day during work

NATALIE

will probably buy you some rlly expensive alcohol tbh and you guys party like hell for christmas

will also get you something sentimental tho and act like it’s nothing when it’s everything

she’d be less into christmas than you but would be down to use it as an occasion to get lit, give you gifts, and tell you she loves you

and sex . just saying

MISTY

now LISTEN this girl goes all out

caligula has a miniature christmas tree in his cage and she reads the christmas carol to him every year

she really enjoys those little 5-7 minute vintage disney christmas shorts and will make you watch them with her because she thinks they’re so cute and funny

chip and dale reminds her of her and nat

she’s obviously chip in her mind and nat is dale

anyway

she’ll also hand make your presents, not all of them but I can definitely see her crocheting you something or smthn like that

in any case I’m going to bed my loves im exhausted and writing this before christmas bc i probably wont be active on christmas but MERRY CHRISTMAS i hope you all enjoy the holidays, thank you for reading and supporting <3

[lizz-crimson]

To The Place I Belong... (Shinnok's Head X Reader Part 4) [Finale]

Summary: Shinnok believes giving you your greatest wish will break the 'spell' you've cast upon him...

Tags/Warnings: Cursing, Two Johnny Cages, Shinnok smooches (finally!), and some suggestiveness near the end 😘. (Reader uses they/them pronouns, let me know if there are any mistakes on that!)

Words: 1554

Part1 - Part 2 - Part 3

You stood in the kitchen, tapping your phone frustratingly. Your nose scrunched up as, once again, another error message popped up on the chat screen. The group chat between you and the two Johnny Cage's had been wiped clean a few days ago, and there seemed to be no way to recover it. Your call history was out of whack too.

"Bah!" you huffed. Whatever, you'll make a new chat later. The only hard part was finding a new meme to name it after. Oh, well.

"Shinnok, I'm headed to work," you called. Shinnok rose from the couch a bit, having been draped in a blanket. He grunted, turning away from you. You chuckled in return. "Stay out of the snack drawer while I'm gone."

"I'm not going to touch your damned chips.." Shinnok groaned, nuzzling back under his blanket like a pouting child.

"I'll hold you to that."

And thus you left, ready to slave away at the office. Again. God, you hated it here..

Minutes later, when Shinnok knew you were long gone, he rose from the couch. Immediately, he began pacing the length of the apartment, hands behind his back, and muttering impatiently.

"Where the hell are those irksome pests…?" he growled under his breath.

A round of knocking sounded from the door, and Shinnok quickly waved a finger to unlock it. The older Johnny Cage entered through the threshold. He gave Shinnok a once-over, not exactly fond of the memories the fallen Elder God gave him.

"About time!" Shinnok huffed.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your balls in a twist," Johnny sighed. He put his hands on his hips. "The other me is downstairs breaking [Y/n]'s lease." He pointed at Shinnok sternly. "Do not ask how."

"Yes, whatever. Did you do what I said to do?" Shinnok asked, hands balled behind his back.

"Yeah, the land is squared away."

"Good. Let's not delay."

One very straining teleportation spell later, Shinnok and Johnny stood on a hill overlooking a large plot of grassy land. Layers of mountains sat far off in the background, each shades of blue and gray. It was secluded, untouched, and far away from honking cars and overpriced rent.

"Perfect," Shinnok said. He then turned to address Johnny. "You said you had photos?"

"Yep. Here." Johnny handed Shinnok his phone, where he'd pulled up various images from across all of [Y/n]'s social media. All the images were house-related, and there was a clear theme. Shinnok nodded.

"Very well," he said. He tossed Johnny back his phone and let his magic glow in his hands.

"Soo.." Johnny began. "You really think this will make you stop wanting to do things for [Y/n]?"

"Of course it will!" Shinnok spat. Johnny wiped some spit off his face. Shinnok huffed. "It will work. I know it. If I give that mortal what they desire most, I will be free of their wretched spell."

Johnny sighed. [Y/n] really had him wrapped around their finger, huh?

"All right, do your thing."

"Johnny, what the hell?" [Y/n] asked. As soon as she'd gotten home, movers were packing her things, with the younger Johnny Cage standing in the middle of them and making sure things were going okay.

"Good news, Jailer of Shinnok. You don't have to live here anymore!" Johnny said. He pointed to the hallway, making the movers march your stuff out of the apartment and down the hall.

"What?" You stutter, hands waving about confusingly. "The hell do you mean? Where's Shinnok?" You asked, not having spotted him at all since you arrived. "Johnny, where's Shinnok?"

Johnny put his hands on your shoulders, turning you and pushing you out the door despite your protests. "Your househusband is fine; just follow me to the helicopter."

"The fucking what?"

One very, very long helicopter ride later, you were miles away from New York. The blinding skyscrapers had been replaced with wooded mountains, and the sounds of cars and people were long gone. Now birds and bugs of all kinds chirped about, leaving you in near-complete peace. The only reason it wasn't completely peaceful was because the house sitting in the field in front of you was a complete giveaway to what had happened. As the movers unloaded your things from their own helicopter, you took a deep breath before turning to Shinnok.

"Why?" you asked.

"Why what?" Shinnok replied. You sighed once more.

"Why did you conjure me a house?" you said more specifically, keeping your tone light and questioning. You knew what this was about; hell, you've suspected it ever since Shinnok got his head reattached. You just never said anything so as to let him figure it out first.

Judging by his answer, he still hadn't, and he was still so oblivious to his own damned feelings.

"I wanted to," he answered. Both Johnnys gave each other a look while you pinched the bridge of your nose. Yes, you were grateful for the house. Ecstatic even. But the fact that Shinnok was still so clueless wasn't even fun or endearing this time. It was just…

"You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid!" You blurted it out then and there. The younger Johnny was quick to pull out his phone and press record before you continued. "Shinnok," you spoke more softly, taking the fallen Elder God's hands in your own. "For someone so old, you really are dumb. You've lived with me for three months now. You've cleaned the apartment, you've cooked meals with me, you've eaten meals with me, and you taught me bone magic.." You huffed. "You've not even threatened the realms since you gained your body back. I swear to the gods, you are so, so stupid--"

A pair of surprisingly soft lips shut you up, and a pair of hands pulled you just a bit closer, pulling both of your faces out of the line of sight of Johnny's camera. It was a quick kiss, but that didn't mean you wouldn't melt into it, which you did fairly fast. Fucking finally..

"Enough, you're making my chest hurt…" Shinnok said in an accepting tone as he pulled away. His eyes were much softer now—not that most people would be able to tell, but you. In turn, you gazed up at him with a lightly wrinkled nose and a soft pink glow on your face.

"You could've warned me," you mumbled, earning a grunt from Shinnok.

"I could have," he said, placing his hand on your cheek. Your face was so soft. "But I like this expression on you."

"Clearly.."

Shinnok snorted, his lips tuning up in a smirk that made you roll your eyes. He took your hand and brought it to his lips, giving a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Now, come along. I put hours into this home of ours, and I will be giving you the grand tour," he said. Still holding your hand, he walked away with you, leaving both Johnny's behind. The younger Johnny was miffed he didn't get his picture, and the older one crossed his arms with a nod.

"Y'know, I think this will work," Older Johnny said.

"Work how? I missed on my pic..." Younger Johnny whined. The older one hit him on the back of the head.

"I mean [Y/n] and Shinnok. I really don't think we'll have to worry."

Younger Johnny groaned, shaking his head. "Whatever, old me. But I am not the one who's explained that," he pointed to Shinnok and [Y/n] entering their new home," to Raiden."

"Oh..." Older Johnny's face fell. "Uh, flip a coin?"

Shinnok led you throughout the house, showing you everything he so meticulously put together just for you. He was proud of himself, and you could tell so.

It was such a relief, honestly. As soon as Shinnok understood how badly he liked you, he went into full devotion mode for you. When he got around to showing you the bathroom, he hummed with his chin in his hand.

"I'll have to make the shower bigger; it's not nearly big enough for two."

"You--huh?"

"Also," he turned, taking you in his arms. "I hope you know I no longer intend on sleeping on the couch."

The way your nose wrinkled as you blushed would never get old to him. The way you made his chest ache would never get old to him. The way your hand felt in his would never, ever get old to him.

He smiled.

"I apologize for taking so long to see how much you've grown on me," he said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You sighed with a chuckle.

"And I'm sorry for making you do all the cleaning," you said. "I'll help out--"

"No," he cut you off. His hands trailed from your arms, down your sides, and to your hips. "I fully intend to do all the cleaning myself." His face leaned in closer, and his lips met yours in a much, much deeper kiss than before. His hands squeezed your hips—not nearly enough to hurt, but definitely enough to show his devotion. When the kiss broke, he let you recover, looking at your dazed face. Then he leaned in to whisper," Of course, I expect to be fully compensated for my devotion to you, my dear."

That could be arranged.

---

WEST VIRGINIA!!!!!

Aaand done! So sorry the last part took so long. It's not as long as the others, but hopefully still good! This part will be added to my AO3 in a little bit!

Anyways, I gotta explore my new Shinnok-made log home--

Have a good one!

[crushedsweets]

so I can't find it, but when the proxies were helping clocks, you mentioned that Tim doesn't like it when she screams or cries. Something about it bothering him. I wish I could recall.

OK SO i also cant find the post (cuz of tumblrs tagging system) buuut i'm gonna use this to ramble about clocky meeting the proxies again, since i sorta adjusted it...

in my au, O/S syndrome refers to slender sickness. it usually starts with the operator taking COMPLETE control over someone's body and mind, and then slenderman 'stealing' them and making them do his bidding (clean up operator problems) which results in them having a 'proxy mode' vs their 'normal' mode

so clockys backstory goes as usual, then towards the end she starts slowly getting O/S syndrome. i sort of want her introduction to toby/the proxies to be ALMOST a reflection of how toby and clocky canonically met. (her getting hurt cuz of him, him helping her as an apology)

so around the time natalie replaced her eye with a clock, O/S syndrome fully set in. while sick, she couldn't form memories, she had inhuman strength, an insatiable bloodlust - just became a general menace, and because bodies started dropping all around tuscaloosa with operator symbols slashed into walls, the proxies had to intervene.

it started with toby stalking her while she's stalking her next victim. her and toby get into a huge tussle and she locks onto him as her next victim. he chooses to play cat and mouse and run off to the forest, having her follow. i'm imagining an almost comical scene where she's slashing around branches and stuff with a machete and he's like 'ahhh cant catch meeeee' and she's screaming obscenities. . .

then by time he ends up at the cabin, tim or brian probably knock her out since she's, yknow, a huge threat. a bat to the back of her head.

and she would wake up in their spare 'storage' room thats filled to the brim with boxes, old bikes, massive stacks of newspapers, cds, etc. she'd probably have her wrists zip tied to an exposed pipe and she'd be losing her fucking mind. screaming at the top of her lungs, thrashing around, whatever. "LET ME GO YOU FUCKING FREAKS LET ME GO ILL KILL YOU ILL FUCKING KILL YOU"

the way to slowly heal O/S syndrome is being around slenderman(aka in his forest) for a long time, until the Operator loses grasp. the way to quickly deal with O/S syndrome is to um.. no nice way to put this. slendermans jaw unhinges and he oozes this gross fucking black tar-like goo, and drinking it (or putting it into pill capsules and taking those) makes the operator let go. it doesnt really have a taste, thank god, but it is thicker than water.

so it would be a whole ordeal of toby coming in like heeeeyyyy... lol... and he would think shes REALLY BADASS because he's never met a woman like her (so strong, loud mouthed, violent, etc). plus he's kinda lonely in general so LMFAOOOO . so he wants to befriend her, and is kinda ignoring the fat that she's mad as hell.

but she's in so much agony. from the O/S syndrome to getting hit with a bat, she's screaming and crying and never shutting up. throwing up, trying to literally bite and kick the proxies if they even bring in water. so toby would be 'designated' to her because "well youre the dumb fuck who brought her here, you deal with it"

he'd probably have to trick her into taking one of the pills or putting the sludge into an opaque water bottle or something. after the first bit is ingested, she quickly gains more clarity. he'd try getting a cot or air mattress set up for her. bring a book and drawing supplies. he wants her to trust him. within a day or two, she'd already start feeling immensely better and the operator is letting go - and toby would stupidly trust her, and completely undo the zipties, and she'd run the fuck off, and he'd be like FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKK. and not even a week later, she'd come back. because she's horribly sick again. and she'd beg for the stupid pills.

and she'd start to trust toby, and eventually kate. . and a little bit brian. but she would still not fuck with tim cuz it is true, he would hate all the screaming, and would occasionally bang on the door and shout at her to quiet down.

but yeah . . thats how she gets situated with the proxies and her O/S syndrome is healed. :3

[astxrwar]

blunt force trauma [2/x]

SYNOPSIS: traumatized!Bucky x Brainwashed!supersoldier!reader.

Rating: M

Word Count: 5k

Content Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Check out the tag "fic; blunt force trauma" for Content + ao3 chapter notes for extras if you're interested. <3

Read on AO3

[1] [ 2 ] [3]

It’s the first thing he realizes when he wakes up the next morning; he’s going to have to fix that giant fuck-off hole in the wall.

Bucky only remembers after he’d gone through the convoluted and absolutely unnecessary process of the Home Depot self-checkout— gloves don’t work on the stupid fucking touchscreens they have now, and neither do half of his fingers, which is just such bullshit, god, everything was easier when you could just hand some guy actual money and be done with it— that the government tracks his purchases. The military, technically. Parole condition, again, since they’re paying his rent and also all of his bills, and because, he suspects, him having an actual job would limit the amount of time he’s available as a state-sponsored superweapon of last resort. 

“What’d you get at the hardware store?”

Doc’s tone is light, nonchalant, and painfully fucking contrived. A nail gun, he thinks about saying, and some rope, and duct tape, and, oh— a band saw. Whatever he can think of that sounds the most like he might be planning to commit murder; just to be an asshole. But she already knows exactly what he bought, courtesy of the modern-day surveillance state dystopia that already pretty much existed even with that HYDRA mission falling flat. 

What he bought was a seven-foot oak two-by-four, a C-clamp, wood glue, and twelve 3” galvanized screws.

Nothing villainous, nothing remotely illegal , or whatever the hell these people think. That support in the wall is fucked, but he’d done some amount of woodworking, just as an odd summer job way back when he was fifteen or so, and he knows enough, he thinks, to be able to fix it on his own. Even if he doesn’t, tough shit, he can figure it out— he’s not going to explain to his fucking super why there’s a massive hole in the drywall and the beam’s been split nearly in half. No bullshit excuse he could come up with for any of that even came close to sounding like it’d be believable, and, besides, he kind of likes having something to do. Progress that’s visible. A goal that’s concrete. 

“The TV stand,” he lies. “It— broke.” He’d worked out the details while he was on the subway headed here, decided on exactly when to pause and hesitate like he’s admitting to something, the points where he’d inject some moments of performative vulnerability into it, not too much, just enough, he hopes, to get everyone off his fucking back. 

Doc’s eyebrows raise briefly. She taps her pen against the pad. “Broke how, James,” she prods, on fucking cue.

He hesitates, on purpose, and looks away from her, also on purpose, and then says, pointedly monotone, “I had a nightmare.” 

She leans forwards, just a little bit— she’s probably not even aware of the fact that she had, the way most people tend to be oblivious to their tells— and he knows she’s interested. Thinks this is something. “Walk me through how those are connected.”

The implication is pretty fucking clear, because she already knows he sleeps on the floor in the living room more often than in his own bed, and she knows that he has a temper, a violent one, one that he controls with precision except in circumstances where he doesn’t have to. Like when he’s alone. But she wants to hear him say it; so many appointments end up like this, the both of them already knowing whatever unspoken thing that’s been brought up, and her just— obsessed with the actual speaking. It’s annoying, but at least it’s fucking predictable. “I had a nightmare,” he repeats, not even having to fake the irritation, “And I was in the living room, and I woke up, and I was— in a bad mood. So I broke it.”

She writes something down on the notepad and he has to restrain the urge to roll his eyes. This is not the first time he’s talked about breaking shit when he’s angry. There is fucking– nothing new here. 

“So you’re planning on fixing it, then?” She says when she’s done, studying him. 

He grits his teeth. Again with the fucking obsession with stating the obvious. “It’s new. I don’t want to just— throw it out.”

She stares at him for a moment longer, her expression too relaxed to be vetting the merit of what he’s said; more like she’s contemplating it. Eventually she blinks and shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over another and sets the pad and the pen on the edge of her desk, seemingly satisfied. “That sounds like quite the project,” she remarks, in that tone he can never quite place, whether it’s approving or patronizing or something else altogether. “I think this has the real potential to be a valuable lesson for you, James. Fixing something you've broken instead of discarding it– it can be a therapeutic experience. It might help you work through some of the guilt you’re feeling.”

He doesn’t bother to stop himself from gritting his teeth at that; it would have annoyed him even if he hadn’t been lying.

~

Bucky fixes the beam, hammers the splintered wood back into a vaguely-straight line and seals the cracks with wood glue and attaches the new two-by-four to it with the galvanized screws; it’s called sistering, what he does, and the last time he’d done this shit was something like 1934. It’s what you do when the alternative would be jacking up the wall and tearing down the entire thing, which would be a massive fucking pain and require more tools and more expertise than he has.

He doesn’t see her again between then and his next appointment.

Doc grills him about his ‘project’ the next time he sees her and he says some stupid shit like yeah, it’s going fine, I feel better, I guess, about not throwing it out. And I was thinking I kinda don’t want to break it again, ‘cause I put a lot of work into fixing it. 

Doc looks satisfied with that. It’s not entirely a lie; he knows, now, what this kid is capable of. Next time he really will be more careful.

He makes sure, when he gets around to buying the spackle and the mesh and the paint to patch the drywall, that he pays in cash.

~

The second time she’s a whole lot more sneaky about the breaking-and-entering. 

Bucky wonders, briefly, if this is how it felt for his targets to come home and see him there, straight-backed and still like a statue, just– waiting. Not blinking, hardly even breathing, motionless and so utterly detached that it was hard to tell if he’d been there for hours, or if it had only been minutes. 

This time, he knows better than to try to get close. 

He’d been at the package store, picked up a case of beer, but she’s in the kitchen again and between him and the fridge, so he decides to just set it down by the door. He makes his way into the living room empty-handed, arms raised like last time. He doesn’t go further than the single armchair about halfway, just kind of rotates it around so it’s facing the kitchen, and sits in it. Focuses real hard on looking– safe. Nonthreatening. Whatever the fuck that even means.

“Sorry,” she says, after a while, the word kind of– slurred, like her tongue isn’t moving right in her mouth, thick and clumsy and unused to the dexterity speaking requires. “About your– wall. I didn’t– I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says, after a while. “I fixed it.”

She stares at him, for a long time, not even blinking. He stares back, unfazed.

All of this feels like the weirdest kind of deja vu– like how sometimes in his nightmares he watches himself, in the third person, like he’s an observer in his own memories, or sometimes even from the eyes of victims or bystanders, even though that’s impossible and doesn’t really make sense. That’s what it feels like, now, kind of, except where the nightmares feel visceral and frightening and have him jolting awake drenched in sweat and violently sick, right now he’s– fine.

It’s one of those nightmares, except all of the pieces are cut up and rearranged and the details are all disorganized, like somebody’s telling a story all out of order. Like the cinema, back when he was a kid; he had had this friend before he’d dropped out of high school who worked in the back room at the theater, and he’d gotten to watch, one time, and see how the movies that look like they play out as one cohesive and unbroken event when you’re sitting in the audience are really just a whole bunch of smaller reels, switched out between two different projectors to give the illusion of continuity. Right now, if this were a movie, all of those reels would be all jumbled up, and whoever’s running the show keeps forgetting how to time the switch between the projectors right; things keep overlapping, getting lost. Remixed.

“You want to maybe tell me what’s going on?” he says eventually.

“I–” She finally blinks, then, and tears her eyes away, looks somewhere over his shoulder, glassy and sightless. “I don’t– I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Bucky shifts on the chair as he watches her, leaning back, resting his elbows on the arms, trying to appear casual, relaxed, which is– not how he feels. He’s not stressed out, really, but that same thing is going on with his awareness, like the last time; everything is sharp and bright and detailed, and he’s here, he’s present, he’s not caught up in his own thoughts or in his memories or in the past, separated from everything else in his head like he’s cordoned off from it all by this thick pane of glass. “Okay, well, what do you know?”

Here is what he knows: when he’d gone back through the memory, some of the patterns she’d used when they’d fought were HYDRA, but a lot of them weren’t. He thinks she’s probably been brainwashed, but it’s hard to tell to what extent, and even harder to tell why. She knows him, and he’d bet that’s why she keeps coming back here.

She doesn’t answer the question. She still hasn’t moved, not even to shift her weight, like she can’t feel the way her body must be getting sore from standing in the same place for a while. Normal people, they fidget a fucking lot. Bucky’s not as bad as he used to be, so he moves, now, occasionally, aware of his muscles complaining if he’s stayed still for too long, but it’s infrequent enough to make people uncomfortable. 

He figures it probably doesn’t make her uncomfortable. He figures even if it did, deep down– she probably wouldn’t even know.

“You know me,” he presses, after the silence has drawn out for a long time. “You knew my name.”

She looks back at him again. Even the way her eyes move is strange, unnatural, too sharp and too sudden and too intent. People don’t realize this, either, but when they look at stuff, they never really look at it; the eyes move, back and forth, just a little bit. Compensating for the fact that the human field of vision is actually pretty narrow, filling in the bits in the periphery. When she looks at things, there’s no movement. Just this unwavering precision. That happens to him sometimes, still. 

“Do you know your name?” he asks her, and she flinches. 

That thing that he’d seen the last time, like a spark, or a glint, or something, when she’d been about to do some serious damage to herself in order to escape and he’d let her go, when she’d recognized that– it’s back. 

Absently, Bucky thinks about Romania. This apartment is way fucking nicer than the one he’d had then; a one-bedroom, new, light fixtures that all work and really great water pressure and a kitchen that’d been remodeled just last year. In Bucharest, he’d lived in a studio, with windows that didn’t latch and leaked when it rained and hot water only sometimes. 

“How about you just tell me your name,” he says, more firmly than the first time. “You know it, it’s always the first thing to come back.”

That’s not really true. The first things are feelings, but they’re fleeting and sometimes wrong. A name is a concrete thing. It’s a fact. You can write it down and you can say it aloud and you can hold onto it.

She jerks back like he’d slapped her. “How do you know that,” she replies, still flat, but wavering a little; so little that if he didn’t know , he probably wouldn’t notice.

James Buchanan Barnes. He’d carved it with a pocket-knife into the floorboards of that studio apartment, above where he’d hidden his go-bag underneath, in the spots where water damage had rotted it, made the wood soft, like carving into skin. It was insurance. To make sure he couldn’t forget. He’d stare at it, when his nightmares would keep him awake, and the letters would float out of focus and distort and stop making sense, like when you say the same word over and over, until it means nothing.

Eventually, there were other things, too. 

Your mother’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Bucky says. “Tell me your name.”

That spark in her eyes is bigger, flickering, like watching a candle in a windowsill. “I– I don’t–”

“You can tell me,” he repeats, louder, “You know it. You’ve said it, haven’t you? Out loud, to yourself, and I bet you’ve written it down somewhere, you know it, I know you do–”

His voice rises in volume and lowers in pitch without him meaning for it to, and something inside of her flips like a switch, that candle stops being a candle and it flashes bright and wild like a molotov cocktail or a fucking car bomb, like flames licking up the side of a building, the veneer of neutrality cracked open and something vicious and violent and vulnerable underneath and whatever of that is still left inside of him rears up to press at the surface of his skin and he thinks yes, come on, just fucking say it–

Her eyes flash and harden and her mouth presses into this trembling line and she turns and disappears down the hallway.

“Oh– god damn it,” Bucky says, the tension he hadn’t even registered collecting in his body giving out, his back slumping into the chair cushions. 

He sits there for a long time before he finally gets up and goes down the hall to his bedroom, where he stares at the open window, and then pulls it shut.

~

Bucky sleeps in his bed, that night, and not in the living room. He doesn’t have nightmares, and he doesn’t even really wake up on the hour like he’d expected to. Instead, he dreams. In his dream, he comes home to a darkened apartment, case of beer in hand, and he walks the length of the living room and he opens the fridge and sets it inside. When he closes the door, she’s standing behind it, and dream-him jerks like he’s been startled, though he doesn’t feel any actual fear.

She has a gun to his head. She’d been in civilian clothes both times he’d seen her, but in his dream she’s wearing black. Body armor.

“Sorry,” she tells him. Like she’s talking about the hole in the wall.

Her finger tightens around the trigger.

He closes his eyes.

Bucky wakes up before it goes off. His bedroom is flooded with morning light and his heart is beating slow and steady and he feels, strangely, fine. 

~

Doc stops halfway through a back-and-forth about whether or not he’d consider actually picking up woodworking as a hobby– you need hobbies, James, it’s part of being a well-adjusted human being, to which he’d flashed a not-smile and said back, I thought the reason I come here twice a month is because I’m not one, Doc.

She’d looked at him like a parent looks at a child who’s being snarky on purpose, which– fuck that, honestly. He’d been alive probably before her parents were even born.

And then she’d just leaned towards him and tapped her pen against her notebook and stared, the way normal people stare, her eyes fidgeting back and forth, not staying anywhere for long, flicking over his expression and his posture and the way that he’s holding himself in the too-small annoyingly-uncomfortable chair–

“You’re in a good mood,” she says, and then, as an afterthought. “Relatively speaking.”

Bucky scowls at her. “I'm not in a– good mood,” he says. 

She raises an eyebrow at him like she thinks he’s full of shit. “I’d like to discuss it. Your mood. Good or otherwise.”

The scowl deepens. It’s real fucking aggravating, the way that she always prefaces shit with I’d like to and let’s try and if you would as if he has any choice in the matter. As if this isn’t a session he’s forced into attending because the alternative is– many years in prison. Many. So many.

He closes his eyes for a second. He has a headache starting; he always gets fucking headaches, here. “It’s nothing, I don’t know,” he says. She stares some more, the way she does when she’s not going to say shit, the threat of talk or I’m court-ordering you back to sessions more frequently than either of us want to be seeing each other lingering unspoken in the deeply annoying silence.

Bucky makes some vague frustrated noise and then does what he usually does when she gets like this; racks his brain and makes something up. 

“I met someone,” he says finally, which is true. “They’re a veteran,” which is also true. Kind of. “I’ve seen them a lot,” not really, three times isn’t that much, but the context kind of makes it feel like it is. “And I guess I’ve just been thinking about them. We’ve started– talking. Kind of. Not really friends, but– acquaintances. We have–” he shifts on his chair, crosses an ankle over his knee, thinks, again, about how the government could buy furniture that doesn’t suck. “We have a lot in common.”

Doc blinks at him; she’d sat forwards, the way she does when she’s pressing him, and she leans back, now, which he’s sure makes him palpably relax. “A veteran,” she repeats, pensive, “World War 2?”

He scoffs. “No.” 

“Korea?”

“No.” 

She gives him this look, which he figures is something along the lines of would it kill you to just answer the obvious question here?

Bucky sighs, long-suffering. “Recent. I don’t– it hasn’t come up, but they’re pretty young, so.”

Doc makes some approving sound and nods and writes something in her notebook. He hates that fucking notebook. Sometimes he thinks about breaking into the office and setting it on fire, but the risk-to-reward ratio, he figures, just isn’t worth it. He’d probably go to prison. Or worse, he’d be sent all the way back to visits twice a week. 

“If they’re around your age–” he opens his mouth to say something technically probably obnoxious, but she shoots him a sharp look and says, “Your physical age, James,” before he can– “--it’s likely to have been Iraq or Afghanistan.”

She glances up and to the left of him– the clock. Great; they have to be almost done. “Both of those wars were– complex. Most of my clients served in one or the other,” she says. “Quite a large number of soldiers who were simply following orders found themselves responsible for the deaths of innocents; I’m not surprised you have things in common. I think it would be beneficial for you to make friends you can relate to.”

What he thinks: 

I don’t have anything in common with people who chose to follow orders. People who chose to do-- anything.

What he says, instead; “What, you want me to make friends with them?”

She sets the pad and the pen down on the table beside her chair. “This is one of those things that’s more about what you want, James,” she says eventually.

“I don’t know what I want,” he replies.

~

It’s been a week, since he saw her; she’s not there, when Bucky steps into his apartment after taking the subway back from therapy. He wonders for a second if he’d fucked up the last time, scared her off, but he knows, objectively, it’s too early to consider the possibility. Not like he could do anything about it, anyway; he doesn’t have the connections to be able to figure out who she is without a name.

That night he has the dream again. The apartment, darkened and silent. The bright, washed-out white of the open fridge, setting the case of beer on the second shelf, the inside otherwise empty. Spotless. Like a prop. Dreams are weird.

He knows what’s going to happen when he closes the door, this time. For a second it looks like there’s something red on her arm, at the shoulder, but when he looks harder for it there’s nothing, just unbroken black.

“Sorry,” she tells him, again, only this time she keeps going. “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

“It’s okay,” he says; this is new, too. “I know. It’s going to be okay.”

Her finger tightens around the trigger in slow-motion, and he doesn't close his eyes, this time.

Bucky still wakes up before the gun actually goes off, and he still wakes up feeling weirdly calm. He prefers this, he decides, over the dreams about killing people. Dreaming of being killed– that’s fine. Better, actually.

He sits up and he swings his legs over the side of the bed– he’d been taking advantage of the lack of nightmares and the suspicious ease with which he’s been sleeping, lately, because he’s kind of getting old and his body has started to hate him whenever he doesn’t sleep on an actual mattress– and when he stretches his back doesn’t ache or twinge or crack the way it does when he sleeps on the floor.

He yawns. He rubs at his eyes until splotches of color burst behind his eyelids, and then he opens them, and he waits for his vision to unblur, and–

He zeroes in on something moving on the windowsill with an instinctive and familiar efficiency.

It’s a slip of paper, folded up and trapped between the glass and the mesh screen, fluttering gently with the breeze. It’s from a notebook, ripped out, the kind that comes from one of those slender, flimsy little pocket-sized spiral ones you can get at the dollar store, the pages inside so thin they might as well be tissue paper.

On it, scrawled in shaky, uneven handwriting, is a name.

~

He has the dream a bunch more times after that, and it's mostly the same, and then it isn't.

Stepping through the door to his apartment, stepping into an open mouth; the lights are on, this time, but somehow the room is still dark, just these glittering shards of white on the ceiling that look like sharp, gleaming teeth. He can’t see her as he rounds the counter to the fridge, and though he tries to turn his head and look, the dream body won’t obey. Just opens the door, puts the beer inside– there’s stuff in the fridge, just splotches of color that could be anything– and then closes it again.

Gun to his head. The muzzle is touching his skin, this time, which is weird, and also stupid. You don’t touch people with the gun you’re pointing at them; that’s a really good way to get it taken from you. But it’s a dream, and even though he tries to turn and disarm her, his body stays still.

“Sorry,” she says, “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

It’s okay. I know. It’s going to be okay. He’s had this dream a lot of times, now, and so he expects–

He says the name from the notebook paper. Her name. She’d given it to him, she’d wanted him to have it. 

Her finger tightens around the trigger all at once, and he doesn't wake up, this time, but the gun doesn’t go off, either. 

It clicks. Jammed. She opens her hand, and it drops, and then it disappears instead of hitting the floor, because– dreams.

“What do I do now,” she says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

"It's okay,” he hears himself reply. "Just-- let me help you."

[ohnoproblems]

Hey, I just finished reading Peregrine Phoenix vol.1 - I adored it enough to come poke the author about it. I'm a fervid martial arts guy, and I noticed that, despite the relatively sparse description of grappling in comparison to the abundant striking, both of Mokou's barehanded fights ended with suplexes. Interestingly, she fights taurs both times. I'd love to hear more about the process behind choreographing this, particularly the process of figuring out what might and mightn't work on a quadrupedal body plan. Were you inspired by judo, wrestling, something else?

thank you so much for this ask. it's maybe the perfect question so i hope i can do it justice.

it's been about 2-2.5 years since i wrote the fight scenes in book 1, so i don't have as precise an idea anymore of my peripheral inspirations. as far as personal experience with martial arts, i don't have a whole lot - i took karate in high school at a suburban McDojo and got to... brown belt? then a whole lot of nothing. but by the time i started writing book 1, my wife's interest and appreciation of Wing Chun got me into the off-and-on habit of doing daily Si Lim Tao with her.

because of this, i'm a bit of a chameleon when it comes to my influences. i rely on media depictions a lot. i see a cool martial arts movie (like the Ip Man movies for Wing Chun, or like The Raid for Silat, etc) and i'm like "well that's cool as fuck, and mokou loves to tussle and she's lived forever so i bet she knows that." i like to give her worldly influences and i also like to give her otherworldly/larger-than-life/future influences because she's been part of this unbroken continuity of being and her knowledge and practice should reflect that. so it's things like Wing Chun and Silat, but it's also things like Lunarian CQC from the Lunar Wars, Danneskjold Pit Style from her life across the Moghra'yi, or Heaven Sundering Fist from wherever the hell you learn fake anime martial marts in the time and space between Gensokyo and Qud.

the suplex finisher is for any number of reasons. number one, there's something incredibly decisive and definitive about a suplex. number two, it's flashy as hell and i love flashy things. number three, and perhaps most critically, it gets your foe off of their feet! and when you're facing a quadruped, that's very important, that's the root of their strength! they can get twice the leverage out of the ground as you can, so the sooner you can negate that advantage, the better!

writing this series has me thinking about the ergonomics and design philosophy of centaurs more than i usually do, which, if you look at my #taurposting tag, you can probably understand is something i already think about a great deal. whenever agate fobs off mokou's interest or training offers with "i have my own techniques" i'm always like god. but actually what do those look like. how do you get gains as a centaur in a world with no gyms. one of these chapters in one of these books i'll probably go into it.

mokou's moveset in ULiL/AoCF is also a big inspiration! she's got all these great stomps and kicks and flips and nasty fire-claw punches whenever she deigns to pull her hands out of her pockets. she's not a very "honorable" fighter, she cares way more about getting to cut loose. agate's lucky she didn't catch a handful of homemade explosives to the face!

my choreography process is usually like… well i do a lot of rotating these gals in my mind and seeing what would be the coolest thing for them to do, the most sensible thing for them to do, the most emotionally or thematically resonant thing for them to do, the best nod to that dope move in the martial arts flick i just watched, etc, and then whatever i settle on i try to depict as clearly as i can. then if there's room for textual flourishes i'll spruce it up some.

Judo wasn't really a direct influence over book 1's fight scenes - i think the first judo-centric martial arts film i've seen was Sanshiro Sugata (1943), and i saw that one for the first time in may of 2022, too late to influence book 1. hilarious movie for fight choreography btw, he just fucking shuffles up and GETS them and then they fly across the room and almost die and it keeps happening. beautiful.

that said, there's some tussles coming up in book 2 that give a nod to Judo! this is because i've been getting way into Sumo lately and Judo has a good playbook to help in Sumo bouts. also Judo is a great style for someone who is too depressed to regularly keep herself in peak condition, because a lot of it is about putting what force you have to best use, and using your enemy's force against them. Wing Chun is also good for folks who aren't in the best shape, so that's another of my justifications as to why she talks that one up.

and finally, caves of qud as a game is one that has sadly underdeveloped (though not nonexistent!) barehand combat support, so there's a bit less inspiration i can pull directly from the game. mokou's new in town anyway, so she hasn't had a chance to soak in the styles regardless. i'm gonna take this opportunity to plug the Qud-Fu - Mixed Martial Arts Skills mod which i keep meaning to install and play around with but so far haven't. but if i do it strikes me as one very likely to show up in the fic XD

thank you again and i hope this gave you better insight!

[bunkernine]

PLEASE speak abt the parents Beryl Tristan and Esperanza 🙏 🙏 🙏

Ok outside of firmly believing that those parents HAVE to be legacies (esperanza ESPECIALLY or at least she saw thru the mist) I'm just gonna blab about an AU that makes me laugh. The way I spent 30 mins writing this instead of my finals...

Quick run down: the three of them were friends, tristan and beryl as childhood friends actually, and then they accidentally kill a man (monster)

Beryl:

Grew up poor in a small town, "trailer trash", extremely critical alcoholic mother. Dad left when she was a kid. Had an older brother who left as soon as he could and never calls

Enjoyed watching movies and tv to imagine a better life she can live in

Nerdy as hell in school, wore the biggest glasses in the world. Had a huge crush on tristan for YEARS, especially when he got hot in high school, but liked him before too

Esperanza

Has the sight, can see thru the mist and it scares the shit out of her. Part of why Rosa thinks Leo is fucking devilspawn cuz Esperanza thought she was seeing demons. She moved around a lot growing up because of that fear, but also Hazel's curse

Kinda a rebellious punk, wildchild younger sibling. Her and Rosa are CONSTANTLY fighting

She moves into Tristan and Beryl's town in high school, after her mom died.

There's a satyr and demigod in her class. She doesnt think too much of it. Her teacher is weird....

Tristan

Kinda geeky, has 5 siblings but never talks about them too much. Was always a very sweet and quiet kid. Childhood friends with beryl, also poor too

Super into Ezperanza because she's different. Even when she's weird and mumbling about being chased she's still sooo cool compared to the town they're in.

Okay so now that they're in high school... I think this would be the early 80s 🙂 they essentially are together in a rag tag group, lost trio style, until they see a demigod getting attacked. Tristan hits the monster with his car. The 3 of them are HORRIFIED because they killed a man, but Esperanza keeps talking about monsters and explains it. The demigod's satyr is fucking young Hedge 💀 he's shit at his job so he just tells them about demigods and stuff.

Beryl is slowly ENAMORED by this. Starts drinking from this event but she is DELIGHTED by the idea of a new better world out there. Ezperanza feels like SHIT! She thinks this is all her fault and she's cursed. Tristan is going CRAZY, racked with grief. He is not doing well at ALL!!!!

Anyway they go to college with this in California together, mostly out of being closer but also fear of this secret (dead body) weighing on them. A few more monster and minor god encounters. Eventually, Hedge has to mist-wipe Tristan's memories because hes going crazy, which causes Hedge's issue with the Council of satyr elders or whatever. Idk its in the books lol. But this causes them all to separate and go their separate ways when Tristan can't remember the other two.

Beryl drops out of college, and gets scouted as she is waitressing. Has her big break, goes onto TV and gets famous. She begins to forget some of the little things about how much the demigod world is HORRIBLE. Once, she meets up with Esperanza and they stumble into a minor god, which makes her remember how much she wants to be in that world. She meets Zeus at a party :) and thinks he's charming and powerful, just different. It reminds her of the monster experience. She fucks that man obviously. Desire for something different to her shit life. She is CRAZY!!! 🩷

Esperanza goes to New Rome Uni because i luv that place idk if they allow mortals but she will!!!!! Because she goes to that fake school, no mortals really take her degree seriously which is why it was harder for her to get a job. Never taken seriously. She heads back to Texas eventually. She know he's Hepaestus when he approaches her at a library, doesn't like the idea of getting involved with that god stuff. Still falls in love. When her great grandfather falls ill (Sammy) she demands hepaestus to stay with her. He doesn't obviously, but he promises to come back, if not for her than for Leo. He has to. He doesn't.

Tristan doesn't go to college, he just works at like, fucking Hollister or Abercrombie because he's hot now. He meets Aphrodite a few times but she's busy and he doesnt give in. Eventually they meet at the beach surfing and she's like "I've been trying to get your attention for a while now"... She doesn't tell him she's a goddess but Tristan kinda has a familiar feeling. He's forgotten what it was but she just feels different. When piper grows up, aphrodite sends little gifts to "her favorite heartthrob" and he just gives it to Piper.

......

Anyway it was just putting little seeds together + being crazy. Beryl and Esperanza sometimes still talked. They met once when they were pregnant and talked about their kids playing together. Esperanza, seeing theu the mist, had an idea that Beryl was fucking a god, but its not like she has high standing either. Beryl and Tristan bumped into each other with their acting careers, but Tristan doesnt really remember Beryl the way he should. Esperanza and Tristan have some kind of twisted relationship I fear of will they, wont they with Beryls jealousy 🙄 such it is. Naturally the same with Beryl and Esperanza 🙏

[coffeewritesfiction]

WIP Questionnaire

Tagged by @bee-barnes-author, thank you!

Gently tagging: @slenders1ckn3ss @kmlaney @bardicbeetle @astras-rambles @meerawrites @musingsbycaitlin @andromedaexists @dyrewrites and an open tag! Blank questions below the cut

For "Farewell Vesperos":

1. What is the first part of your WIP that you created? For the Runner Owen series as a whole, it was all spawned by a single image of a gothic city floating in the sky. It's changed a lot since then, over five years ago I think. I don't remember the first part I came up with for Farewell Vesperos itself, but it was probably the Vesperos family it's named after.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be? For Runner Owen? Instrumental, for sure. Owen, my protagonist, walking through the foggy, crystal-lit streets of Theris. Being watched by people in brighter windows, or following him in the darkness. He turns around and lifts his lantern to see... Cut to the title screen.

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why? I adore Owen and his two enemies/LIs, Aurum and the Scarred Man. Explaining why is hard, but they and their chemistry just make me happy. There's also Locke and Nora, who are dear to my heart - I think some people I've talked about this with like Locke a little too much, but I don't blame them. For Farewell Vesperos in particular, GOD, I am loving how Lawrence Rhyne is shaping up. He's such a charming fuck.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fan base would share? Kind of a confusing question. But uh, I've been told [combining the comments of different people] that Farewell Vesperos reads like Jane Eyre with an Agatha Christie type plot, so if you like either of that, you might like Farewell Vesperos. People who like darker fiction - hell, maybe even dark romance specifically! - might enjoy the dynamics between Owen and his two LIs. We'll see how that shapes up though.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP? Settling on the plot. This is the third edition of this story I'm writing and if it evolves on me again I might just scrap the whole fucking thing.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them! Not at this point, but the vampires in it can turn into animals. The Scarred Man in particular can become a raven.

7. How do your characters get around? (Ex. Trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.) There are trains, powered by crystals, a la Victorian steam trains. Most people get around with the draconics that humans have allied with, those being small dragons that cooperate with humans for their own reasons. They function like horses, except some of them can fly.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now? Right now, I'm trying to figure out the villain's motivations. I have a terrible habit of imagining awesome things happening and then going 'but wait - I know this character would do this, but why?' Kind of annoying at this point.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe) of your WIP do you think will draw people in? Well, there's the murder mystery! Lost heirs, arranged marriages, malicious vampires with dreams of conquest, wicked vampire hunters led by callous royalty who will do whatever ruthlessness needed protect humanity, enemies to lovers extreme slow burn [I'm talking over several books], spooky Victorian houses, lots of racially diverse characters, a transmasc protagonist navigating a society with specific gender roles for trans people... And just. Gothic fantasy in general.

10. What are your hopes for your WIP? I don't expect to get a lot of money writing this lmao, but I'm not writing it just for the money. I'm writing it because I know there's guys like me out there who want and need to see themselves as wanted - both as men, and as romantic and sexual partners. I want transmascs like me to feel desired. And I want people that aren't transmasc to really get that we are desirable, and attractive, as any other person. Ultimately though? I just hope people enjoy reading the damn thing and don't rip it to shreds over some stupid plot hole I missed pffft

1. What is the first part of your WIP that you created?

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fan base would share?

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

7. How do your characters get around? (Ex. Trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe) of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?