#this is my first fic please go easy on me

[paigesfuturewifey]

authors note! IM SORRY FOR BEING MIA college was kicking my ass (still is) and i’m trying my hardest not to crash out but here is an angsty fic :D

this is also heavily inspired by she wouldn’t be gone by blake shelton IK IK country music sue me it is unfortunately part of my roots so yes here she is

“i’m sick of this caitlin!”

you two had been going back and forth for a while about this, both too stubborn to admit who was in the right and who was in the wrong.

it’d been two months since caitlin went first pick in the wnba draft. two months of caitlin continuously forgetting about your date nights, two months of caitlin lagging hours on end and then eventually responding to your messages with one word replies, two months of wondering if caitlin would be home from practice at a decent hour or if you’d go to sleep in a cold, empty bed.

two. fucking. months.

of course, you understood the fact that caitlin’s job required almost all of her undivided attention and you were extremely proud of her and all her accomplishments.

but being second priority to her job was taking a toll on your mental health.

you were tired of being alone all the time. the sacrifices you made, picking up everything and moving to indiana with caitlin to be with her, felt pretty fruitless when you had barely seen her in your own apartment.

caitlin’s response came low at first as she rubbed her temples, “what do you want me to do?” and then she repeated it louder, throwing her arms up in frustration, “what do you want me to do?!”

“i want you to be here! you’re never here anymore, caitlin! i’m alone ALL THE TIME now!”

“that’s not fair. i’m doing this for us! for— for you!”

you shook your head, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “no. no. not for me. this is what you wanted! you wanted this! i didn’t—“

“i didn’t ask you to move to indiana with me!”

the statement felt like a slap to the face. caitlin, of all people, knew how hard of a decision it was to move to indiana. to be away from your family. your sister, your parents.

caitlin never pressured you into it, of course. she was insistent that if you had decided to stay in iowa, you’d make long distance work. but when you ultimately decided to stay with, whom you thought was the love of your life, caitlin couldn’t of been more happier.

the two of your popped a bottle of champagne in celebration and spent the night talking, laughing, planning your futures together.

a bittersweet memory that seemed so distant at the moment.

as you narrowed your eyes, you felt a tear roll down your cheek, followed by three or two more. “you know what, caitlin? you’re right. you didn’t ask. but it was a sacrifice i was willing to make for you!”

“you’re not the only one making sacrifices—“

the mere start of the sentence had you letting out a laugh, putting your hands behind your head as you paced back and forth. “you’re not listening.”

“i am listening—“

“no! you’re hearing me but you’re not listening to me!”

silence fell upon the two of you, both contemplating your next words because you both knew you guys were pretty close to crossing lines that couldn’t be uncrossed.

you placed your hands on the counter, leaning on it while hanging your head low, letting the tears drop onto the floor. “i can’t do this anymore,” you finally let out in a small whisper, but it hit caitlin in the gut. “i don’t want a life where i spend more time waiting for you than being with you.”

“you don’t mean that. please baby, stop.” caitlin’s warm hands were suddenly around your waist, leaning her head on your shoulder and kissing softly. “let’s just go to bed, yeah? i promise, i promise things will be different, okay? i’ll make more of an effort. i’ll try and get home on time for dinner. i know things aren’t easy right now, but i can’t lose you. we’ll figure it out, i’ll— i’ll try harder. okay?”

but even when those words eased your mind a little, you both knew the promise wouldn’t be kept.

so it wasn’t really a shock to you when you sat at the dinner table, candles lit and your meal sitting in front of you with the empty chair across from you.

you cooked caitlin’s favorite meal, wore her favorite set underneath your clothes that was her favorite color. you looked at the clock, and when it read 10:30, you scoffed.

you were fed up. you were well over your boiling point.

and, so, when caitlin entered your guys’ apartment at midnight, her heart ached a little at the sight of your untouched meals at the table, and candle she assumed was lit at one point.

she rubbed a hand over her face, quickly walking to your shared room. then she froze in her spot.

your side of the room was empty. from your nightstand being stripped of its decorations, to your side of the closet being completely empty.

the suitcases you used for when you guys planned vacations were gone. along her your toothbrush, makeup, hair products, basically everything that made your shared apartment shared was gone.

caitlin wasted no time picking up her phone and clicking your contact, holding the phone to her ear. she anxiously waited, suddenly feeling as if her whole life was falling apart.

voicemail. she tried seven more times. all went straight to voicemail.

her mind immediately went straight to denial, there was no way you picked up and left, right? you always said you would, but caitlin never believed you. never truly believed you.

or maybe she just didn’t listen to you.

she snatched her keys from the table, leaving the apartment and shutting the door loudly behind her. she bet all her money that her neighbors hated her.

that’s how she ended up in her car, speeding down the highway on a rainy night, frantically calling all of your shared friends.

she started with your mom, driving down the road at 90 miles an hour and switching lanes like an absolute maniac. she’d gotten honked at at least four times already.

“caitlin.” your mom greeted, though judging by her cold and and distant tone, and her use of caitlin’s full name instead of cait, caitlin could tell the news had no doubt got back to her.

“do you know where she is, mrs. l/n?” her question came right off the bat, figuring she had no time to waste in finding you.

your mom’s answer was quiet. and caitlin learned your families habits quickly enough to know that when she went quiet, she was lying. “please—“

“i’m afraid i can’t speak with you now, goodbye caitlin.”

then the line went dead.

with her left hand on the steering wheel, she punched the middle with her right and threw her head back.

her next call was kate because you three all had been very close throughout your iowa college years. kate always understood you in a way that made caitlin jealous.

and for a while, she she was a topic of argument in your relationship because caitlin constantly needed reassurance that she was the one you wanted.

there was clearly a rift in caitlin and kate’s friendship after, but after the move to indiana, they seemed to be mending their friendship. until now.

kate answered on the first ring with a hard question. “what’d you do, clark?”

“kate, i— i fucked up. she’s gone. i don’t know where she went. her stuff’s gone, her clothes are gone, she’s gone.”

“damn it, caitlin. you always do this shit— you drove her away, again.“

“do you know where she is?” caitlin demanded, arriving to her first destination.

“no.”

“you’re lying.”

“no i’m not—“

“i should’ve figured you wouldn’t help me find her. you’ve always been pathetically in love with her, ever since college.” caitlin scoffed out bitterly.

“caitlin—“

“know what? no. you’ve always been on her side, since day one. i can’t even do this right now—“

“you’re frustrated with yourself, about driving y/n away, so your picking a fight with me.” kate spoke calmly, fueling caitlin’s anger.

“don’t fucking psycho analyze me, right now martin.” with that she abruptly ended the call, getting out of the car and walking into the ice cream shop the both of you loved dearly.

after that, she went to your favorite coffee shop, after that, nalyssa’s apartment, then aliyah’s, then the hotel near your apartment.

she held her face in her hands, finally letting the sobs ripple through her. she suddenly realized how under appreciated your voice was. she was forgetting how sweet it was, how beautiful it was when you hummed her to sleep.

she was forgetting your voice already.

and she realized that she should’ve fought harder. should’ve told you how much she loved you, cherished you, needed you.

maybe, just maybe, if she had done that, you wouldn’t be gone.

safe to say caitlin didn’t find you that night, and no one told her where you might’ve went.

[oldbutchdaniel]

iwtv fanfic friday <3

happy weekend reading!

all human decisions by LuckyDiceKirby (@luckydicekirby) m, 19k

Daniel’s bastard maker had the advantage over him: he could travel by daylight. By the time Daniel woke at dusk, sprawled on the couch and actually literally tucked in, there was no sign of him. Well, fuck Armand. Daniel might be a newly minted best-selling conspiracy theorist whose sanity was being publicly debated on every existing social media platform, but he was still a journalist. He could track down one monstrous extremely divorced serial killer, easy.

(armand is sooooooo annoying in this. he's everything to me.)

colour me your colour, baby by hederabug m, 2.6k

“Daniel.” Daniel hears the soft, but insistent voice first as a distant call, as if she’s submerged in water. She breathes air when Armand’s hand grabs at her shoulder. “Wake up, lover.” Armand is on all fours, hands and knees on the bed above where Daniel’s still lying down, so they’re face to face. Armand’s brown eyes are glinting with some manic light, her face cast in shadow, striking chiaroscuro, lit only by the dull amber glow of the bedside table.

(rest assured i will be doing a dm yuri theme week soon and rest assured this will be on it. but it was too good not to include here. i need like 17 more fics in this series)

With His Heart Still Intact (They Didn't Do It Right) by CaravanOfCrows (@asthedeathoflight) t, 6k

A series of collisions; in which free will exists but fate isn't going down without a fight. (surely Armand and Daniel only have extremely normal feelings about freedom and agency and destiny)

(WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE DM SOULMATE AU AGAIN. CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT PLEASE)

marketplace heart-eater by eggalbumin m, 6k

Daniel picks up a blade from the stack of discarded tools in the kidney tray. It has blood on it. “I’m a little scared to ask,” he says, with the aura of someone who isn’t very scared of asking at all, “but who’s blood is this?” Mine. Yours. My master’s, twice-diluted. Why does it matter anymore? It’s poison either way. “The doctor was just showing me how to do incisions. It’s fascinating work.”

(really fucking awesome armand character study. the first time i ever found marius compelling due to the fact that he's written from the lens of armand's tangled knot of being. like i think he should be killed with hammers as much as the next guy but he makes for such a fascinating narrative concept)

did you believe in the glass city by tei @bloodripelives nr, 5.9k

"Yes," Armand breathes. "Yes. Is anything they did to me worse than what I have done to you?" Daniel wants to say yes, but shit, he's not even sure what Armand had done to him. And whatever it was, he is sure that he would have let him do worse.

(daniel tracks down marius for the sake of armand's tangled knot of being. it goes as well as you would expect. so fucking beautiful and soooo fucking compelling. made me cry at least twice. read it now)

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from August :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Teach Me a Lesson (Already Learned) by whenitstarted

Word Count: 3142 Summary: Will being married to Molly and cheating on her with Hannibal.

Literally just PWP because I wanted to scratch the cheating itch.

Just Thought You Should Know by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 22370 Summary: Two years after marrying Molly, Will is restless and unhappy, unable to stop thinking about Hannibal and missing his incarcerated cannibal despite all the reasons why he knows it's wrong. One night, things come to a head when Hannibal finds a way to call him. A series of sensual phone encounters begs the question of how long Will can possibly resist the desire which Hannibal so expertly cultivates.

Oh this one was GOOD. I love anything that happens in the three years Will is with Molly. The angst, the porn, chefs kiss.

More Myself Than I Am by StratsWrote

Word Count: 9176 Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to.It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

Soulmate AU! Hannibal absolutely hating the bond at first felt very on brand and this was just very good.

coyote chewing on a cigarette by antiheroblake

Word Count: 5145 Summary: hannibal wants someone to care for him until he’s bequeathed his family fortune, but he doesn’t want to deal with the near-elderly perverts his friend calls their “sugar daddy”. that’s when he sets his sites on the sullen and newly rich will graham

okay if you aren't reading this series, what are you doing?? every. single. installment. is a five star!!!

No It Don't Come Easy by nobetterlove

Word Count: 10759 Summary: Will had the good sense to blush then, both Hannibal’s words and his previous actions making his heart pound hard in his chest. “Actually, uh – “ Will started, his hand reaching back to rub along his suddenly stiff neck. “I told him I was seeing someone.” Blue eyes looked up slowly, Will more than curious as to what Hannibal’s reaction would be. “Well, that’s – “ Hannibal tried to say but was cut off by Will speaking again. “I said it was you. Or implied it, at least.” There was a moment of silence where Hannibal didn’t blink or look away or even breath. Maroon eyes took Will in with shocking efficiency – he felt like Hannibal was everywhere in that moment, surrounding him in all ways possible. “You told Jack Crawford that you were seeing me.” Or: a Hannigram fake dating AU

i'm a whore for a fake dating fic, y'all know who i am.

Oddbodies by toffeecape

Word Count: 72714 Summary: Will is an off-brand sentinel. Hannibal is a reputable guide. What could go wrong?

i knew nothing about Sentinel AUs before reading this one, but i found it was perfectly well explained within the fic! and wow this was SO well done! it fits so well into canon and was just a treat to read.

This Isn't Rapture by moistdrippings

Word Count: 7467 Summary: Will wakes with a fever, and Hannibal prescribes some unconventional treatments.

yeah, just gonna drop this one here.

stink in the nostrils by murdertrout

Word Count: 49137 Summary: Secret Omega Hannibal is not pleased that he has imprinted on Will Graham. He avenges himself on his biology by getting Will Graham put behind bars. But when Will figures out what he’s been hiding and tampers with his suppressants, triggering his first heat, they both get more than they bargained for. Alternate S2b if it were entirely A/B/O porn.

LOVED THIS.

A Most Gentle Death by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 8956 Summary: “What is that?” Will asks tightly.“A blend of benzodiazepines and barbiturates,” Hannibal says. “It will render one unconscious, immobile, and largely insensate.”Will stares at the syringe in shocked disbelief. The shame and embarrassment are still present, but have taken a backseat to dry-mouthed, hopeless longing. Hannibal turns the syringe end on end between his fingers. “Would you like me to administer it to myself?” he asks.

there is something so satisfying about Hannibal not being phased by pretty much anything that Will wants.

A Wolf in the Night by itsbeautiful

Word Count: 3857 Summary: “Leave them on…” Will rumbled, grabbing hair and pushed a head down his stomach. “…and suck my cock.”Hannibal looked up with a dark stare and a head tilt, struggling to catch his breath. “No ‘please?’”“I know…I don’t need to ask, politely or otherwise, to get what I want from you now.”Red eyes glittered with hunger, tongue flicking out to taste the power left on lips.“Isn’t that what you wanted, Doctor Lecter? For me to take what I want from you.”

i'm pretty sure i just love anything this author writes, wow. you don't technically need to have read Transcendent Suffering, but it'll make more sense if you have.

When It Clicks by summerisblue

Word Count: 29838 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been spending a lot of time together lately.Because they’re friends, Will likes to reason. Will likes to tell Hannibal that too, just to clarify. Hannibal might be more than a little frustrated.

this one really hit my "oblivious sugar baby Will Graham" button. i love him so much.

Your Ex by murdertrout

Word Count: 3810 Summary: “What was your last relationship like?”“Uh,” Will says. “Intense.”“Good intense or bad intense?”“Yes,” Will says.“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Molly says, “but I just want you to know you can.”In retrospect, this is a mistake.--We usually assume that Will clammed up about his past when he was with Molly. But what if actually Will tells Molly way, way, way too much about his relationship with Hannibal?Or, the one where Will starts talking about his “ex" and doesn't stop.

i love when Will is an idiot. this fic was just silly and perfect.

Ball Toss by raiast

Word Count: 22307 Summary: The carnival AU no one asked for. Hannibal accompanies Alana to a carnival and meets one Will Graham, whose game booth is less than above board. Hannibal does not approve.

YES YES YES. i really loved this dark Will!!

Pushing Comfort by lurid_erotic_intimacy (virtuous_contract)

Word Count: 14559 Summary: Habitually, Hannibal keeps his steps quiet as he makes his way to Will’s upper floor. It’s probably nothing out of the ordinary that has kept Will from making their morning session (not a session, a conversation). Still, it’s best to know for certain.Or: Will starts missing his appointments. Hannibal is happy to investigate why. Can be read as a canon-insert. A quite sweet and kink-flavoured getting together story.

this was sweeter than i would have expected it to be based on the tags, but mmmm this hit the right buttons for me!

a world of hurt by divinetheatre

Word Count: 7213 Summary: Will takes it slow, pausing between the strikes to let Hannibal work through the sensations, patient — for now. In time, when Hannibal’s self control wavers, and his knees start to kiss one another after every spanking, Will will pin him open and punish him for that too. Relentlessly.

well, we learn new things about ourselves every single day, right?

i know who you are by divinetheatre

Word Count: 14125 Summary: Will turned again as though the turmoil in Hannibal’s heart had clamored loud enough for him to hear. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. What Hannibal might’ve said, the last thing he could’ve admitted to Will, did not pass his lips. Will strode to him and grasping Hannibal’s face in both hands, kissed him. Deep and hot with passion that did not surprise Hannibal but overwhelmed him. He’d known it would be this way, but he had never been prepared. Not entirely.

Vulnerable Hannibal and Will being the most tender understanding human? Give me moreeeeeeeee.

a sort of madness by divinetheatre

Word Count: 5239 Summary: He chose me.The euphoric mantra echoes through his mind as he drags the panties down Hannibal’s long, slim legs. They open for him. The slick heat betwixt dampens the coverlet for him. What happens to Hannibal’s body after this is because of him.

i had to stop and remember to breathe multiple times during this fic so. do what you will with that information.

Secretary by FragileTeacup

Word Count: 77469 Summary: Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head. A chance encounter with the classifieds might just give him exactly what he needs. Secretary Wanted.Dr. H. Lecter. Psychiatric private practice.Typing and good manners essential.Must follow direction.

THE secretary AU. need i say more??

Layover by raiast

Word Count: 16978 Summary: When Hannibal misses his connecting flight to DC he is forced to obtain a hotel room for the evening. When the last remaining room is seemingly double-booked he realizes that the adult thing to do is generously offer to share the space. And if the other man in need of lodging happens to be a seemingly disheveled, ill-mannered and altogether beautiful stranger, well, that's just fine.

ONLY ONE BED ONLY ONE BED. alternate first meeting AU that i adored.

Scent of a Woman by Devereauxs_Disease

Word Count: 4860 Summary: After the fall, Will assumed he and Hannibal would progress to a romantic relationship. So when Hannibal comes home smelling of fancy perfume, Will is...distressed. How do serial killers handle jealousy and romantic confessions? Not well, y'all...NOT WELL.

they're both so stupid and i love them. Hannibal's behavior had me cracking up because of course he would behave this way.

Will Graham Had a Secret by hannigramsarah (WrightworthSarah)

Word Count: 4442 Summary: Will Graham has a somewhat slutty past. What happens when he meets Hannibal Lecter and discovers his proclivities may not be as secret as he might have hoped?

this was lovely.

Something Borrowed by BelladonnaWyck

Word Count: 11206 Summary: “What’s wrong with your green card?” Will can’t hope to stop the words from tumbling forth - didn’t even know they were about to spill from his mouth when he opened it - and his cheeks flush when he realizes how intrusive and presumptuous that question is.

Hannibal is Hannibal and they are perfet. i need more green card proposals STAT.

Touch by raiast

Word Count: 10902 Summary: From the kinkmeme prompt:"Going into an intense heat, Will volunteers to be shared and passed around by a group of Alphas. Hannibal finds out. Does he stop it from even happening? Sneak in and sign in to join the group?"What happens when an Omega with a voyeurism kink signs up for a Public Heat and his possessive Alpha psychiatrist applies for a volunteer position? Hint: lots of knotting, lots of come, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of bloodshed.

FERAL WILL GRAHAM. i really don't think i need to say more.

put your aching teeth to good use, my dear by wormsin

Word Count: 10516 Summary: alternate a/b/o ending to Fromage. when Will sees Hannibal in his office, bloody but alive, he goes into a feral rut. Hannibal tries to pacify him.

again, feral Will Graham just hits all the right buttons.

Tender by McRibFarewellTour

Word Count: 5117 Summary: "Will loved the violence, of course he did, but he loved Hannibal more, and he wanted there to be a clear distinction between the two. He wanted proof that Hannibal loved him, Will Graham, not anyone else who could be convinced to empathize with a serial killer. He didn’t want to push Hannibal against a wall, he wanted to hold and be held by him."A defense of seeking gentleness in a world of violence.

OUCH. in the best way possible, big ouch.

Husband Under Contract by house_of_lantis

Word Count: 49685 Summary: Count Hannibal Lecter has always enjoyed his bachelorhood and freedom, preferring to live a life as an established gentleman and lord of his estate. But Hannibal finds himself married and the last thing he wants is a clingy, tedious spouse who expects romance and to take advantage of Hannibal’s wealth and social status. Will Graham couldn’t care less about the arranged marriage as long as he can keep his job and keep his dogs. He’s amused by Hannibal’s attempts to manipulate him; and when he finally gets Hannibal in bed, he thanks him for a good time and returns to his own suite. What will Hannibal do when he realizes that he’s completely in love with his husband? And can Will ever see past their marriage contract to sharing a real life of love and passion?

An incredible royalty (kind of?) AU. i love how Will just does not give a fuck about upsetting Hannibal, much to the horror of the house staff.

pretty words from a silver tongue by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 3595 Summary: Will’s hookups (as few and far in between as they are) always end the same; deliberate distance between bodies and a cold, empty bed come morning. No one ever stays the night.

touch starved and vulnerable Will??? sign me UP.

i could love you with my eyes closed by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 2276 Summary: In Will Graham's three and a half decades on this planet, no one has ever made him feel like this.or, Hannibal is a little TOO good in bed, leaving his boy a little... emotional.

relatable content.

Night Calls and Liquid Courage by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 4249 Summary: "How much did you drink, Will?”“All of it.”“All of it, hm? That certainly is a lot.” _________________ Beverly Katz hand-delivers a very flirty, very drunk Will Graham to Hannibal's doorstep in the middle of the night. Drunken confessions and lots of cuddling ensue.

fluffy goodness, what more could ya want?

your touch is my safety by feralwillgrhm

Word Count: 4183 Summary: Will had been touch-starved for a while, but he didn't realise how much he craved it until Hannibal came into his life and initiated touch between them repeatedly. It left him wanting more and trembling at night in bed, but he never knew how to tell Hannibal. That was until he finally cracked. Or: 5 times Hannibal touched Will and he barely kept things together, and 1 time he gave in.

this was so sweet and tender!!

I called your name ‘til the fever broke by omnilegent

Word Count: 4363 Summary: Hannibal tilted his head in that cat-like way of his and said, apropos of nothing, ‘I believe you are experiencing touch deprivation, Will.’Will was not in the fucking mood.‘I touch myself plenty, doctor.’ He snapped, realising what that sounded like after he was already committed to saying it and ultimately not really caring. He couldn’t be bothered for all this dancing around half truths via metaphors today.———Hannibal offers Will a helping hand in relieving his touch deprivation…

can y'all tell i was on a "touch starved Will Graham" kick? that's all this is.

the fire went wild (the flames went higher) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 15359 Summary: will takes hannibal out to make up for the shoes he didn’t get, but when hannibal tries to show his appreciation (and how poorly he can behave), will decides to show him something new

show me the places where the others gave you scars by madeofbees

Word Count: 4957 Summary: Will has a bad time at a bad scene; Hannibal helps.Or: if Will has such a strong empathy response to horror and violence, what would happen if Hannibal immersed him in pleasure?

can y'all imagine if this is what Hannibal had done from the start? jesus christ.

Heal Your Wolf(hound) Well by devotional_doldrums

Word Count: 53396 Summary: From a distance, Hannibal enjoys heightening Will’s sickness. But confronted with the injured man lying in his hospital bed… Hannibal’s not so sure he enjoys it, anymore. Chicken soup (for the serial killer’s soul).

i love getting to see Hannibal actively regret his choices. 10/10.

Crystalline by DruidGurl (DaoistDruid)

Word Count: 59216 Summary: Stripper!Hannibal AU (sort of) The proprietor of a successful restaurant, Hannibal (who may or may not be a serial killer and definitely WAS an exotic dancer in his youth) is coerced by an old acquaintance to take a job dancing at a bachelor party. When he shows up, he realizes a mistake has been made, but he also realizes something far more interesting: the groom to be is hotter than Mt. Vesuvius. Circumstance and intent lead the boys where it always should: into bed. A lot.

GIVE ME ALL OF THE CHEATING FICS PLEASE. Everything in this fic was top tier. Hannibal as a dancer? Hell yes. The dirty talk? Yes. The fucking all night long marathon sex sessions? YES. Will being an absolute SLUT for Hannibal??? YES PLEASE GOD.

all i want is you by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8892 Summary: We should do something tomorrow."Did you have anything in mind?“It’s your birthday.”Ah, he wishes it were so simple. If Hannibal were to wish for anything, it would be Will Graham underneath him, gasping, moaning, whispering his name while he placed claiming bites on his beautiful, porcelain throat. Such an image is so lovely… and so achingly far away. There is nothing wrong with wishing for it, but if it is a boundary that is never crossed, Hannibal can live with it. He can live this quiet, friendly, occasionally bloody life they live simply as friends if it means he continues to have it.That does not mean Hannibal won’t settle for his second favorite. (It isn’t really settling though; their shared hunts are the greatest adventures he’s ever had.)“Well, there is that dreadful Senor Pérez down at the docks…” _________________ A year after the fall. Hannibal and Will are friends and partners in crime, but nothing more. Hannibal is... fine with that. He is content having Will in any way that he is allowed if it means Will stays.Today is Hannibal's birthday. Will surprised him with a kiss.

This made me want to tear up in a good way. It is so TENDER. God, they are so soft and I love them.

le bel homme sans merci by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 7481 Summary: “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.” Will recites breathlessly.Hannibal lets out a pleased hum. “The painting is a rather whimsical rendition of the muse. Keats’ poem depicts a wretched end for the knight where he awakens alone in the field, abandoned by the love of his life, whereas Dicksee’s work focuses on the maiden’s affection and the knight’s surrender to his own heart. Everything he knows and feels, it all changes when he sees her for the first time." _________________ Hannibal leaves his sketchbook in Will's car. He can't stop himself from looking inside, from wanting to know, but he never expected every drawing to be of him.

Hannibal "accidentally" leaving his sketchbook in the car where Will will absolutely find it? Chefs kiss. THEY'RE IN LOVE.

Whiskey Lullaby by thisisthefamilybusiness

Word Count: 1943 Summary: Hannibal Lecter only gives one apology in his entire life, and it is to the man he never meant to kill, the one he murdered not with violence, not with a knife, not as the Chesapeake Ripper, but with assumptions and carelessness and arrogance, to Will Graham. (Fill for the following prompt on HannibalKink: "Alone on the Water-esque fic? "Will you miss me, Hannibal?" "Until the end of my days, William." For those not in the Sherlock fandom, it's basically a deathfic. You can do it with cancer, like AotW, or AIDS, Will's encephalitis....anything you want. Even maybe Hannibal killing Will and these are their last words? Just. Please. Hurt me.")

OUUUGGGHHHH. Thank you, Serri. Will dies because he's HIV+ and Hannibal didn't know and let the encephalitis get so bad that Will got full blown AIDS. Ouch.

Guidance by jonnimir

Word Count: 3511 Summary: Kinktober Day 30: Gagging + Swallowing.Will acts out at a party, and Hannibal helps him calm down by keeping his mouth otherwise occupied.

Will going into subspace!!! I do love a good cockwarming fic. (also this might be what i need when i'm throwing up an attitude shhhh...)

[jo-harrington]

Chuck (Eddie Munson)

Summary: It's just a regular closing shift at Benny's. Easy peasy. Nothing bad could possibly happen.

Word Count: 3.5k

Characters: Eddie, Jeff, Benny Hammond

Themes/Warnings: Boys will be boys, friendship, smutty intrusive thoughts, Masturbation(?), Food Fucking, Eddie has an unspecified romantic partner (could be Steve, could be Reader, could be anyone that's not what this story is about), Song Fic, What's a Little Psychological Torture Between Friends…

Note: You know what? In true unhinged fashion, I had to write this for @courtingchaos on her birthday and not only that but give her some credit here. This was born from us being stuck in a car on Lake Shore Drive, hangry and a little slap happy, on the way to Navy Pier after I witnessed something that was probably very similar (in the most innocuous way) at a suburban Burger King.

Meg, you are my life. My world. You are my Cheese. Burger. And this one's for you. Happy Birthday.

Thank you AGAIN to @dr-aculaaa for the beta and @deathbecomesthem for some of the diner lingo. Disclaimer that I never worked at a diner so this is probably horribly inaccurate...but just suspend your sense of disbelief if you have.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If anyone wants to get the full effect of this fic, you need to put Mr. Roboto on repeat for the duration of your time reading.

---

5:55PM

Jeff stared at the clock as he wiped down the counter.

Every tick of the second hand had him gritting his teeth a little more, enough where he should probably worry that he was gonna crack a tooth. All because Eddie was late for his closing shift.

Their closing shift.

And not just late, late again. For the third time in as many days they worked together.

If he even showed up.

Now Jeff wasn't one to complain. Shit, Eddie was the one to suggest that he apply at Benny's in the first place and put a good word in for his best friend.

Ben was getting a little older and wanted to enjoy what was left of his youth while he still had it, instead of solely being stuck behind his grill for the rest of his life. An extra waitress on the weekends, an extra line cook during the week, and the business ran smoothly, even when he decided to take a day off.

And Eddie was pretty much employee of the month, knowing all of the regulars orders like the back of his hand.

Until Jeff started getting scheduled alongside him.

Until Eddie started going on dates, and started "going steady" with someone.

Until Eddie started playing hooky to go and suck face and god knows what else while parked up at the quarry.

Jeff let his fist slam against the counter as another minute ticked away, only for the bell of the door to chime and Eddie walk in, shrugging his apron on and shedding his leather jacket in a flustered rush.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with an easy smile on kiss-swollen lips. Jeff rolled his eyes at the sight and at the apology. "Oh come on, I promise I'll be on time tomorrow. Scout's honor." Eddie crossed his finger over his heart.

"You weren't a scout," Jeff retorted.

"Hey now," Eddie teased, starting in on one of his typical Munson-isms that usually ended up in forgiveness or forgetfulness. "I actually was. For one day before some snot-nosed kid pushed me over and I accidentally said fuck. Then they asked me to leave. But once a scout, always a scout."

Jeff hummed and turned on his heel to push back into the kitchen and start prepping for the dinner rush.

The thing was...they worked really well together. They had a good routine of noting what tasks needed to be done throughout the night. It's not like the diner was ever that busy on weeknights and Benny had been doing it alone for years, but it was nice to have someone you got along with at work.

Well it was nice...when they were there. It was nice when your work buddy was actually reliable and helped you out, which made Jeff feel bad because Eddie was his friend, his best friend. But Jeff could let Eddie's luck and charisma let him slide through his responsibilities.

So Eddie was about to find out what kind of hell it was when you were in the weeds alone.

---

Jeff had gone out to take an order when the phone rang.

Eddie grabbed the receiver with a quick "yello'" only to get a familiar voice rasping on the other end.

"Can I speak to Jeffrey please?" came the reply from someone dramatically sounding like Edith Bunker.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Gareth, I know it's you," he sighed.

"No, this is Jeff's grandma," the younger boy kept up the ruse, snickering a little at the end. "I need to talk to him."

Eddie let his head roll back on his shoulders as he heard the stifled giggling of his friend over the line, and then he peeked his head out of the passthrough.

"Jeff!" he called out. "Your grandma's calling."

Jeff donned an exaggerated and fake look of concern; he jogged across the diner and grabbed the receiver from Eddie's hand.

"Hello?" he answered and Eddie watched as his expressions got more animated, as did his voice. "Grandma? Oh no, what happened...an accident? You need help? You need me to leave work and come home right away?"

"What?!" Eddie shrieked and reached out to snatch the receiver back from Jeff's hand. He placed it against his ear but only heard Gareth laughing and then the ring tone. He was about to ask Jeff what the hell was going on, only to find him pulling his apron over his head. "Come on now, where do you think you're going?"

"I've gotta leave," Jeff shook his head frantically. "It's my grandma, she's in the hospital, I've gotta go."

"Jeff, come on."

"There's no one else to take care of her."

"Seriously. Quit it."

"You'll be ok by yourself tonight right?" Jeff ignored everything Eddie said and looked at him expectantly as he dug his hand in his pockets for his car keys.

For a moment, Eddie felt the panic rise within him; he figured Jeff was a little upset that he bailed the past few nights but...seriously it wasn't anything that Jeff couldn't handle.

Was his friend really that mad?

"Listen I'm sorry I bailed on work a few times this week," he apologized, but Jeff just shook his head and pulled out a roll of quarters.

Then another.

Then another.

And the panic Eddie had faded into curiosity, then realization.

No, Jeff wasn't mad; he was annoyed.

"Hey listen, it's just for tonight so I can check on my grandma, you'll be ok," Jeff explained as he walked over to the old jukebox in the corner of the dining room. He began loading the old machine up with quarters and punching buttons in rapid succession. "I'll even make it up to you. You can have all the tips in the tip jar from before you got here earlier and I'll put on some music that you'll like. Hey look, Ben took your advice and updated this a little.

"He even has your favorite Ed," Jeff glanced over his shoulder. "Styx."

Eddie groaned in loathing this time, thinking of the power ballads and synthesizer nightmares he was about to endure because his friend was gonna get back at him.

The Grand Illusion. Or worse Paradise Theater.

The records inside of the machine shifted as they queued up tracks for the next however-long Jeff had paid for.

"Don't do this Jeff," Eddie pleaded as his friend grabbed his jacket from the coatrack by the door. "I'll never skip work again. I promise. Just stay."

"But my grandma needs me Eddie..." he whined and then winked at Eddie before running out the door. "Have fun."

Eddie sighed and accepted defeat as the door shut and Jeff was gone, all while the sparkly synthesized voice began amidst electronic fanfare...

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto...

---

7PM

You know what? It didn't start out that bad.

"You're wondering who I am," Eddie sang along and bopped to the beat as he flipped burgers on the flat top. "Secret, secret, I've got a secret."

He had food to cook and orders to take and he fell right back into the routine of those short staffed nights when Benny started to realize how much he valued his personal time, but right before Jeff was hired.

It would be fine.

And there was a little musical accompaniment? Even better.

He figured that he might start loading the machine up with quarters before his shifts from now on, instead leaving it up to the chance of the customers.

"Machine or Mannequin?" He did a little spin. "Secret secret, I've got a secret."

Eddie hadn't even realized that the song that started out the night--Mr. Roboto--repeated itself until he got back to the kitchen, and then it repeated again.

And again.

He had to admit it was growing on him though. Like a cancer, but still growing. So he either needed to adapt or it would kill him. The lyrics were catchy, he could dance to it a little, and there was a good beat that he could almost headbang to if he tried.

It wasn't even that he hated Styx, he just hated what Styx stood for. Mainstream popular music. It was commercial and sanitized. Yeah Babe wasn't that bad of a song. And neither was this one. Shit...if he really thought about it, was the band even really that popular? They were underdogs, and he always rooted for an underdog.

"With parts made in Japan," he sang into his spatula and slapped slices of cheese onto his patties for dramatic effect. "I am thee modern man!"

---

8PM

So if you see me, acting strangely, don't be surprised.

There was a little bell at the pass that got hit whenever an order was up.

Of course, with Eddie being the only one working it didn’t need to get hit.

Still, every time Eddie passed it, he just had to tap his hand on the bell along with whatever verse or instrumental was playing.

I’m a man who needed someone and somewhere to hide.

It wasn’t getting to him.

No. Not at all.

It was just a graduation from him playing air guitar with a broom and drumming on the counter with spoons.

Ding ding ding ding ding, ding ding ding ding ding.

Eddie tapped at the bell with both hands at the crescendo and then went to the walk-in to scream.

Nothing to worry about.

---

9PM

I’ve come to help you with your problems, so we can be free.

“Hey can you change the song at all? This one’s been repeating for a while.”

Eddie smiled tightly at the guy at the head of the long rectangular table and then dropped the blue plate special down in front of him with a clatter.

“It’s broken,” he explained, not wanting to get into it.

Several customers had asked already; it was getting as annoying as people who said they were tipping with kindness. Obviously if he could get another song on the jukebox, he would.

How many fucking quarters had Jeff put in there?

“Could you unplug it? Plug it back in again?”

He’d thought of that too.

But wasn’t it just his luck that they lived in the do-it-yourself amateur handyman Midwest…and the damn thing was wired into the wall itself.

And he really didn’t want to cut the line and have to explain to Benny how an electrical fire burnt down his diner.

“You know what?” Eddie took a slow, calming breath. “This is actually…my favorite song." There was a disbelieving blink. "A-and it’s my birthday.”

The withering look he received made him second guess burning down the place; it actually didn’t seem so bad after all. He could deal with Benny.

I’m just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control. Beyond my control. We all need control.

---

10PM

I am the modern man, who hides behind a mask…

Eddie wore his Freak label proudly.

He accepted it, everyone else accepted it.

But maybe this music was getting to him a little bit as he started noticing of the different inanimate objects around Benny’s that he could potentially fuck.

That was a level of Freak that he really hadn’t embraced yet.

So no one else can see my true identity!

Well, it was sort of always there simmering beneath the surface. He had been a horny teenager and was now a horny young man. There was always a question about what objects he could stick his dick into.

But he’d tried to curb that curiosity after the pool noodle incident.

Now though…he was far enough gone that things were starting to appeal to him again. And it scared him a little bit for those thoughts to pop up during work.

Not enough to stop though.

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo. Domo.

First it was a bagel with the perfect hole.

Actually, was it even the music causing this? How dare that bagel look so damn fuckable. Cream cheese wouldn’t be the best lube, he had to admit. But he didn’t mind trying. Unfortunately that bagel was needed for someone’s sober-up sandwich.

Then there was a hole in the vinyl of one of the booths. He stared at it every time he brought out an order or bussed a table. Eventually he couldn’t help himself and he lightly ran two fingers over it and then plunged them inside the hole, like a lover would, only to find the edges were jagged and rough…and he was disappointed that it wouldn’t be the most pleasurable experience.

He wasn’t one to say no to a little bit of teeth when getting his dick sucked but that wasn’t what he was looking for right now.

At one point he even considered fucking the jukebox itself. Get it to shut up once and for all.

The logistics weren’t right.

Where would he even put his cock? Just rub the head of him along the coin slot while he jerked off? Pass.

His depravity needed to be put on hold though, because as he was in the walk-in trying to cut a channel into a head of iceberg that might be the perfect fit for him, he spotted a tub of hamburger with a label in Benny’s chicken scratch saying “discard” with the date.

He froze and let his thoughts swirl before he shook his head and put the iceberg down. He slammed his hand against his forehead as though that would make his internal monologue right itself.

Because what the hell was he doing?

Regardless of the absolute torture he was enduring, he was still at work and had a job to do.

Why was he trying to fuck a head of lettuce? Or fingering a hole in a booth. No, he was absolutely losing his mind, he needed to control himself, he needed to get back to work.

He was about to exit the walk-in when he glanced back at the tub.

“Can't forget that tonight,” he muttered to himself as a reminder.

Then back into the kitchen he went.

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo. Domo.

---

11PM

“Thank you very much Mr. Roboto,” Eddie muttered as he dropped maraschino cherries into milkshakes. His voice was ragged, desperate. Pleading. “For doing the job nobody wants to.”

“Thank you very much Mr. Roboto,” he deadpanned as he numbly swept the floor. “For helping me escape when I needed to.”

Thank you.

Thank you.

I wanna thank you.

Please thank you.

Thank you thank you.

Thank you thank you.

“Thank you,” Eddie smiled, as the joy finally die inside of his body as he rang out the last customers. But it was rapidly born once again as he waved goodbye. “Thank you thank you!”

---

12AM

The doors were locked, the lights in the dining room closed.

And Eddie stood in the kitchen with a lit cigarette in his mouth as he concentrated on the task at hand.

The problem was plain to see. Too much technology. The jukebox still played out on the floor.

Machines to save our lives? No. Machines dehumanize.

He shouldn’t be fucking the jukebox or a head of lettuce or a bagel. No. He needed something warm and malleable.

Living.

Or well…close enough.

It was the perfect idea! Instead of taking it right to the dumpster, he’d taken the tub of ground chuck out of the walk-in and let it get to room temp at the end of his shift, and now he was standing there molding it into the right shape.

He was ready and aching after palming himself in anticipation. He’d meticulously wrapped his hard cock in plastic wrap, for lack of a better option. He needed this.

He deserved this.

Why hadn’t he ever thought of this before?

The time has come at last…

He put out the cigarette in the meat then lined up with the channel he'd crafted. He hissed as he sunk in—synthesized angels sung all around him, guitars strumming in harmony—and finally felt relief for the first time all night.

Secret, secret, I’ve got a secret.

His hips rocked in time with the beat, driving deeper and deeper. He felt the slightest bit of cold when he finally bottomed out, the center of the Chuck not entirely at room temp yet. It was an unexpected thrill and he shuddered as pleasure shot through him.

He let his head fall back and he laughed with the feeling, laughed uncontrollably, and the sound echoed through the diner, forever scarring the walls with wicked glee.

To throw away this mask.

It was strange, fucking what was essentially a mass of viscous sludge. Not bad, just strange. Not entirely wet but not dry either. Maybe it was perfect actually, something he never knew he needed. Just for him. A little slice of cheese...er, heaven...just for him.

Especially when he formed meat to suit his desires as it shifted.

That feral grin stayed on his lips as he worked himself to completion, as he pumped mercilessly.

Secret, secret, I’ve got a secret.

And somewhere in all of the hubbub, Eddie came to the conclusion that although it wasn’t perfect, he could get used to it if he had to.

Because he had to.

He'd be stuck here forever, lost in Dennis DeYoung's vocal prison until the end of time.

Now everyone can see my true identity.

He thrust harder and faster, panting and kneading and clenching until all he knew was the meat and secret secrets and his own depravity as he spiraled downwards further into insanity.

I'm Kilroy.

He felt it coming.

Kilroy.

Cumming.

Kilroy.

It exploded out of him with those last few emphasized beats of the synthesizer. He felt the cling wrap bulge with his spend, felt the tingles along his spine and through his limbs as his orgasm shot through his body.

He leaned over, satiated, until his nose brushed the meat in sensuous exhaustion.

Kilroy.

He could hear his pulse in his ears, along with a buzzing din of tinnitus, and the ticking of a clock out in the dining room.

But where he expected the beginning of the next round of torture, Eddie only heard silence.

He breathed heavy, broken breaths. Gulps of air that felt like too much oxygen and not enough at the same time. He felt lightheaded.

It was over.

His punishment finally over.

He closed his eyes and thanked whatever God or Demon gifted him with this boon, and then his eyes shot open and he stood straight up as he stared at the mess he made.

"Fuck."

---

The Next Day, 5PM

Jeff felt like the cat that ate the cream when he drove to work the following day.

He felt a little bad about what he’d done to Eddie, and he had all the intention to make it back to Benny’s around 7 or 8, but Gareth had convinced him not to.

“Come on,” he’d told Jeff. “You know Eddie’s gonna get a good laugh out of it.”

“Yeah! Besides,” Dave interjected. “Shame on him for leaving you up shit’s creek so much. Hopefully this’ll teach him a lesson.”

And Jeff agreed with them.

He and Eddie were friends but that didn’t mean Eddie could walk all over him.

He was glad to see the van parked in Benny’s lot when he arrived for his shift, and as far as he could tell, everything was normal when he walked in.

Ben was at the grill and Eddie at the counter.

Actually, everything looked better than normal. Everything in the diner looked squeaky clean and under the smells of cooked food, there was a tinge of the disinfectant they used to deep clean.

“You must’ve had the slowest night ever if you did a deep clean of the place,” Jeff clapped a hand on Eddie’s back and noticed that Eddie stiffened under his touch. “What time did all those quarters run out?”

Eddie laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“Little after midnight,” he chuckled. “And it was fine. But, uh, now I know better than to fuck with you again.”

“Yeah you’re on time today, you beat me here!”

Eddie grabbed his arm as he passed and then leaned in close, voice pleading and desperate.

“I’ll never be late again, won’t be a no show, but please…don’t ever subject me to that hell again. Please.”

"Scout's honor," Jeff cackled.

Upon Eddie’s look of relief, Jeff headed back to get himself settled.

He chatted with Benny for a second before the older man left for the night. But as he went to the walk-in to get more onions to chop, he noticed something.

“Hey Ed!” He called out through the pass and Eddie turned. “Thanks for tossing that ground chuck! Or…Domo arigato I guess heh.”

He turned back to the task at hand, so he didn’t notice all the color drain from Eddie’s face.

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

Opposite of an Intellectual

“The opposite of an intellectual… you really think you could do that, Caffrey?” Jones asked, reading through the cover description.

“Do what?” Neal responded, blinking at them in confusion. Instead of the overly innocent smile that would usually accompany a question like that from Neal, his face was just blank curiosity. It seemed that for once the con man wasn’t messing with them; he just hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Be the opposite of an intellectual,” Diana repeated for him with an incredulous chuckle. 

Neal’s brows furrowed lightly in confusion. ‘What’s an… intellectual?” he asked, seeming to struggle to recall the word. 

Diana scrutinized him, but despite all the years she had spent working with Neal Caffrey, she couldn’t find a single tell that he was lying. By all appearances, Neal Caffrey genuinely did not know the word ‘intellectual.’

“On second thought, that’s kinda scary,” Jones decided, taking an unconscious step backwards. “Please stop.” 

Neal finally broke, giving them a devious grin and a theatrical bow. Diana had to admit, seeing firsthand how convincingly Neal could become someone diametrically opposed to his actual self was a bit terrifying. The short demonstration had left her heart pounding and breathing slightly shallow. 

“Remember this the next time you doubt me,” Neal warned cheerfully, winking at them before sauntering away. Diana and Jones looked at each other once he was gone.

“That was scary, right?” Jones asked.

“Yeah,” Diana confirmed, “that was definitely scary.” 

Then an idea hit her. “I wanna see Peter’s reaction!”

[solarconstellations]

posted my first fic and it’s scary to put yourself out there. simultaneously hoping people read it and also scared for when they do.

first two chapters are up! it’s a jegulus summer camp au where the marauders are all working at a camp for the summer - read it here

if u leave comments/kudos i’ll love you forever, okay byeeeee.

[cherryinsalemverse]

Batmom!Reader x Batfam

Summary: It is a fic inspired by that one youtube playlist. Wordcount: 1136 Warnings: I do NOT own anything in this fic! The characters nor the playlist! But please check the playlist it is awesome! Also this is my first fic and English is not my mother tongue. I'm sorry for every grammar mistake I made. Please enjoy.

 You wanted to believe that it was a joke. You wanted to believe that he made it in time. That Jason was still alive. You wanted to, with every cell in your body. Yet you knew. Bruce would never lie to you. He would never make a joke that would hurt you. 

The news crushed your heart into million pieces, it crushed your life apart too. At first, you were angry at yourself. You knew the second Jason was the new Robin. You knew you should have prevented it. Instead of helping him to be a better fighter to protect himself, you should have protected him from his choices. He was just a kid. Your kid. With or without blood.

You loved Jason as much as you loved Dick. Definitely more than yourself and maybe more than Bruce too. And it saddened you the moment he told you, you were not his 'mom'. You knew it was the heat of the argument. You both got louder and louder and being stubborn none of you took a step back. He screamed.

"You can't just try to push yourself into my life! I fucking hate you! Stay away from me, you're not even my mom for fucks sake. You're just a pretend, playing house with Bruce!"

If you checked on him that night -when he left home- if you reached out to him instead of drowning in your own pain maybe you wouldn't be burning in a much stronger sorrow now. Because damn it hurt, it hurt you so much what he said to you. You tried to let it pass. 'He is a kid, he doesn't mean it.' But it didn't pass, it didn't get better. It only got worse the more time passed. His last words were ringing in your ears.

 His leaving was like a knife through your chest. You knew you would never feel better till you find him. You told yourself that you would talk with him and let him go if he still wouldn't want to be your boy. Your sweet boy. As long as he was safe, you would accept anything. But the knife through your chest only went deeper with time and pierced your heart when you learned he was long gone.

Time would heal any wound they said. Your wound only bled more. Dick was there for you. And Tim after him. Bruce was distancing himself. You couldn't help him then. Couldn't find the words in you to take him out of his guilt. No. Because once you got out of blaming yourself, you blamed him. It was his idea in the first place to take children to fight. It was him who couldn't protect your little angel. It was him who couldn't find him in time, get to him in time. Let him die and perish in the hands of a criminal who got away with way too much death. And it drove you nuts when he didn't avenge your son. How could he, let the man loose and alive after all that happened.

At last, you blamed the man himself. The clown that haunted your dreams. The Joker. That bastard was the real one you should blame. And you did indeed. You swear on your life that you would take down him even if you had to go down as well. You were not one to break her promises. 

Parting your way from Bruce, you suit up as the Scarlet. Lady Death, The Rednight. You didn't care about others than the Joker. As long as they were not connected you made alliances with the rest of the villains even. You needed resources of income and intel since Bruce was onto your back. At every chance, you got a hold of Joker he was there to save him from you. But you made it after much spent time. Learned from your mistakes and got yourself a chance to keep your promise. You tracked the bastard once he was out of Arkham. 

"Did you miss me mama bird?" said Joker once you took off the sack on his head. His hands were tied at his sides open. Bones were broken on both of his arms as well as his kneecaps. You didn't want to kill him just yet, he didn't deserve a peaceful death. No. Just like the video he sent, he was gonna be broken down in every way possible. Yet he was laughing. You placed your gun in his mouth not caring to answer. He was seeing this as a play. You were not.

The window of the warehouse broke down when Bruce came in, in his Batman costume. You didn't flinch, way too used to his schemes. You took out your other gun and pointed at him.

"Scarlet, drop your guns." his tone was like steel. "Be reasonable, killing him won't change anything." You bent your head to the side slightly.

"You have no idea just how reasonable I've been," you said. "He took my boy and if you can't take him out, Batman, I can." you opened the safety of the gun which you were pointing at Bruce.

"You don't understand. I don't think you've ever understood." he shook his head taking a step towards you. "You're putting the city in danger, letting those hell creatures loose."

You shot the wall next to him, barely missing one of his arms. "Sending those creatures after her instead of myself was mercy." he stopped midstep. You knew with Bruce's protection Harley was safe. For now. "And despite your hypocrisies and insults, I begged you to safely get out of my way." 

You turned your head to the Joker, ready to pull the trigger.

"No! God almighty. No. It'd be too damned easy." Bruce called out to you. 

"All I ever wanted to do was kill him. A day doesn't go by when I don't think about subjecting him to every horrendous torture he has dealt out to others. And then end him."

"Then end him. Let's end this here, tonight. I missed you, I missed my boys." your voice was close to a whisper. 

"But if I do that, if I allow myself to go down in that place I'll never come back." he took another step toward you, hands reached out.

"You've exhausted my patience. But I do hope you understand. And even now what's about to happen." you turned your head sharp to him, your teary eyes glowing with the moonlight with something like madness in them. You shot towards his leg. Bruces dodged the bullet with a somersault. Now being much closer to you.

"I won't miss one more time." you took your other gun out of Joker's mouth. The man started to giggle. 

" This is me being reasonable." you pulled the trigger.

[ambeauty]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sydney Adamu/Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Characters: Sydney Adamu, Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Claire (The Bear TV 2022) Additional Tags: Accident Prone Sydney, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Camry is down bad, Sydney is just vibing, Self-Indulgent, I just want him to be flustered frustrated and filled with anxiety because he’s so in love with her, let’s be honest, Carmy will crack first Summary:

“Thanks for the ride man,” Sydney goes to open her door.

“I’m not fucking leaving you at the hospital at this time of night. Be serious.”

“Carm, please. I swear I’m not dying.” She looks at him out of the corner of her large doe eyes.

“Not funny asshole,” he deadpans.

“It was a little funny,” she chuckles.

“You may not be dying but Emmanuel would kill me if I left you here after midnight. Go get checked in, I'll watch your stuff.”

He sits in a seat, his knee bouncing high with nervous energy. He wanted to smoke but that would be inappropriate in a hospital. He hates how Sydney can joke at the most inopportune time, but he also loves it. She’s a good complement to his intensity most times. The only thing she ever truly gets upset about usually involves food, the restaurant, or him, which can be a combination of the three.

Never at hurting herself, like this cut, or falling through walls, or grabbing a cast iron skillet off the hot stove. She’s one of the most accident prone chefs he has ever met and now it was his sworn duty to protect her from failing. He failed at that once, at least from his perspective, and he wasn’t going to do it again. So, midnight emergency room visit it was.

[nocentis]

x

[scuddisher]

FOR WHAT IT WAS WORTH

What was once a youthful dream of playing in a band and gaining a loving relationship with the bass player quickly becomes a cold memory as Jeremy leaves you behind for his work as a medical examiner. But as a sudden redemption of his passion for being a musician brings him back into your life, you find yourself holding on to the love and lust you once had—and begging for the future you once dreamed of together.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT PAIRING — ex! jeremy x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — fic, exes! au, bass player! au, (rival) band! au, angst, smut, romance, slight science fiction WORD COUNT — 6.1k WARNINGS — mature content, emotionally painful scenarios, mutual pining, heartbreak, longing, finger biting (bc it’s norman lol), lots and lots of romantical and soft gestures btw SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, loss of virginity, protected & unprotected intercourse, teasing, begging, marking, oral (reader receiving), soft dom! jeremy, mocking, creampie, love-making, the smut is better than the plot lmao RELEASE DATE — DEC 14TH, 2022

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this fic was once posted when i was writing for kpop idols, but has since been changed because i believe it fits jeremy quite well! things have also been shifted to include the whole disease-riddled city scenario, but it’s not a huge part of the plot. my brain wanted to see more of bass player! jeremy so bad and this was the outcome lol… & i know jeremy isn't a well known character so if this flops it flops rip

PROLOGUE.

What had brought you to this moment was a segment of events once working in your favor. It was the gut feeling in your stomach as you had stood on the stage, the lights seeming to blind you more than usual that night.

Your music seemed to thump to the beat of your heart, the light stomp of your foot almost too strong like it could help you walk away from everything before it even began.

Even the nulling screams of blank faces in the crowd couldn't contain your surroundings. The bass player strung along the same as he did every night, turning around once or twice to match a look with the drummer—the one no one could see except for sticks and hair like a muppet. The mechanical keyboard still sounded through all the loud instruments, carrying each beat and matching the hitch to your voice.

They were all there, in place and sound meshing—but the darkening spot to your left felt as though it was empty. Where Jeremy stood, fingertips against the strings of his guitar never missing a beat even with his mind somewhere else, it didn't have his true presence.

That moment, his stirring eyes holding back tears with your voice filling his ears as if you were the only two people in the room. Your vocal cords were gaining a sudden shake to the lyrics as reality set in.

It was the first time you knew you were losing him.

His black eyes were sorrowful, the concert soon coming to a close. With every fiber of energy given to your form from the crowd, adrenaline running through your veins, and his—neither of you could match sight of one another. Not all at once, a hand or limb in your peripheral to reassure you that he was still there no matter how far you were going.

Cold night air draws every bit of warmth from your skin, and for the first time in over two years you don't feel the heat of his hands against your neck. Wrapping his grey leather jacket around you, his scent filling your nose—it was all an allusive thought. A chill down your spine not actually occurring.

But what had officially closed all reconsideration of fate from your mind was his frame hunched at the side of his bed later that night, pen in his hand. All evening he had stayed out of your grasp, just far enough to make your skin crawl and body ache from not having him to hold. Muscle memory, the discomfort of being away from him had finally awakened your mind to witness the scene.

His distance, the shadow of a man you once called your own—and a written note on his pillow for you to find right as the door of your once shared apartment shut behind him for the last time.

His calloused hands playing his bass guitar was what had brought your voice out, loud and clear for the interview that would change your life as you knew it. For all he had done, what it was all worth—his note of nothing more than "I love you. Things have just become too dangerous for you." wasn't enough to coat your breaking heart.

You had watched the dawn rise long before most that morning. Purple skies distorted by your tear-filled gaze, the small page was held against your chest like his final words could stitch the hole he left in your heart.

All that you had pushed out to carry on, to keep your career and band afloat—to find a new bass player. It all diminished in a split second every night that you would have to return to your own apartment alone and cold.

When your own music, your own voice, suddenly began to start sounding like it was someone else creating it—you truly learned what had been lost. But as things returned, new and fresh sounds claimed your hearing, and your band took a turn for the best—the contest that would make or break your careers landed at your feet.

Ten bands competing against one another, only for one to win a record deal and a concert in any stadium of choice—it was a fight to the death for an opening you had been hoping for forever.

All was right once more. Guitar player to your right spinning to match sights with the drummer—who carried on a single spin of a stick between beats like it was the easiest thing he had ever done. The mechanical keyboard only made your voice sound clearer, ethereal to the crowd. The latest band member added—a bass player who could play more riffs off the top of his head than you had ever seen before, and his mere existence on the stage only extended the significance of your band to the crowd and competition.

Your first win seemed easy, too easy for what you had gone through to get here.

But his dark shadow, the scent of his light scented cologne vaguely passing through the hallway as you walked off stage, melancholy voice like music in itself as he spoke to someone. That was all it took to make you halt in place and find him throughout the filled backstage space.

Jeremy, once the bassist for your band—now the leading competitor of the competition, stood in your sight with his once sorrow filled eyes finding your own.

He had claimed to leave due to his second job being a health hazard. It was his way of allowing you to step out into fresh air—to rid yourself of someone who could damage you long term if his life was lost to what he did from nine to five.

But all it took was one look into his irises, his pupils dilating to study you where you stood. And it all came fluttering back to you.

"Long time, no see." His voice cracked with a smile, the same one that made you fall in love all over again.

ONE.

In the flesh, the same skin you had kissed and licked time and time again. The muscles in his arms veiny as he gripped at the belt of his bass, ripped jeans tight around his thighs as he walked towards you.

His voice was like velvet speaking in your direction. "I was hoping to see you here."

You could hear the jingling of the chains at his waist, see the lights shining on his dulled out tattoos as he moved in closer to you. He dressed all the same, spoke in the same fashion, carried himself in the way you knew. And yet the people standing behind him weren't your original band.

"Nice trophy." Your band's new bass player was too easy for him to spot, the instrument on his back in the same way Jeremy wore his—only the member was amplified by the glare of the golden statue in his hold. "He was insane out there."

Your mind stopped time for a second, the strings being played minutes before your own bass player had hit the stage seeming all too familiar. He had been here all along, and it was clear he had seen you long before you had seen him.

His band was holding a silver trophy, a sign that you would be seeing Jeremy much more often in this competition.

The man was like a dream. Every mark on his skin was influenced by crowdwork or his practice. You once counted the hard calluses on his hands every night to help you fall asleep, could still smell the metal on his fingertips from where they would graze the strings when he refused to play with a pick.

His hands still appeared the same, black leather, cigarette behind his ear, fingerless gloves pulled from his hands and stuffed into his front left pocket just as he always did when he finished a set. Those same hands, the ones your own clung to the first night you made love—you had dreamt of them so often.

Even in the deepness of the night, darkness all around and even darker behind the lids of your eyes—you could see and feel him clearly.

How his head had fallen against your shoulder, sweaty hair dripping beads of moisture down your body. His forehead felt hot like he was running a fever, the redness in his cheeks half from the motions of his hips lifting to meet yours and half from the bashful eye contact he attempted to hold with you.

You remembered his eyes the most, their roundness becoming thinner, the small drops of tears from pleasure running from the far corners of his eyes as he fell onto his back and allowed you on top to ride him.

That was when his hands had matched yours, leaving your waist from guiding you—your first time making your body anxious. The way his length had glided into you inch by inch until you no longer felt any pain—your bodies connected in the most human way possible.

It was the first time you had officially taken account of how many callouses he actually had along his hands. On the spaces of his palms where his fingers met, at the top line of his thumb most prominent, and each finger tip being rougher from his pinky to his index finger. His hands held yours so tightly, fingers laced together as you let your lower halves control the motions and pleasure.

It was the first and last time you had given yourself to someone—out of love only, your body being the ultimate tool to share the passion you felt in your heart.

Those round puppy eyes matched your sight again after so long, Jeremy's body slightly hunched over to be face to face with you. "What are you thinking about?” His minty breath fanned over your face, the vibrations of his words making you shake. It didn’t take long for his thumb to fall in between his lips, his teeth nervously chewing on the skin around the nail of the digit as it always did. “Hmm?"

There is something so special about the relationships we have once had but lost, that when reconnected—it feels as though no time has passed since parting.

"Huh?"

Your mind had raced off, staring at his hands like they were still yours to take a hold any time you pleased. The love you had, all of the emotions you had gone through—you felt like you had been blasted into the past for just a moment. Like you had made it to this competition, this part of life, together.

"Always somewhere else." Jeremy's head shook, a sly smile on his face making your heart leap.

So easily, the cocky man named Jeremy still had the power of attraction over you. All it would take was a lift of his eyebrow, the one he always cut a slit into to accessorize his facial features and stand out. Such a simple motion would be enough to tell you he knows you were thinking of him, the following laugh breaking you into your own smiling fit.

You watched his full grown brow lift, the corners of his mouth pull into a smile, could make out the soft chuckle leaving his bubbling chest—and for a second in time you were convinced he still loved you.

"I'm right here, Jeremy."

His name rolling off your tongue so easily took his band by surprise, their shared glances making you back deeper into the hall and away from the open space where they gathered under the stairs.

Just as expected—he hadn't mentioned you to them. From the start of the competition until now, they had merely been convinced Jeremy was only a fan of your band.

Their whispers, your name quietly mentioned, and Jeremy's smiling face right in your sight. "I-It was nice seeing you again."

"Don't think you can cut this off so quickly." His voice was a whisper in your ear, blue eyes flashing with the light of something new before he blinked softly. Three steps closer, his breath blowing across your skin, and as always—Jeremy had some unknown reason for making himself known to you that night. "I don't bite."

"Yes you do." Your eyes were swelling just as his nose scrunched, laughter loud from your enclosed distance.

"Not unless you ask, remember?" His plump lips were just a few centimeters from your ear, his tongue poking out between them to tap at your neck.

It was almost as if he forgot who left that night.

"Jeremy." Your voice was stern, his body backing up enough to see the entire frame of your face. "I think we need to talk."

That one word: talk. He hated that word. All Jeremy ever wanted was to speak his mind to you, day or night—and reciprocate the conversation. Not once did he ever enjoy the use of the statement. He believed saying that a talk was necessary took away the magic of just holding the conversation itself.

You could see his skin crawl. Watching as his brows knitted, his lips fell into a pout, and his eyes watered with worry—even he knew this had to happen at some point.

"We do." His voice had turned so soft, a weak tone in his two words that made a chill run up your spine. "I need to tell you what happened."

TWO.

The buzzing sign of the twenty-four-hour coffee shop welcomed you in with an additional chime of a bell over the door. Jeremy walked before you with nothing but his bass in its bag on his back, and your mind couldn't help but remember how often you had seen this image before things ended.

The first time you confessed to someone, it was Jeremy—standing out in the midst of the snow on the long walk home. Transportation had taken away the seclusion, going with friends to the corner store for some quick drinks and food would have lessened the privacy. And for once, you and Jeremy had full control on when you wanted to be alone together.

"Isn't there a saying—never date the lead singer of the band?" You remember his words so clearly, even the laugh that followed them. "I think I've broken a rule here."

"Is that a yes?" Your voice held cheer, cheeks changing temperature quickly from the freezing night air.

"There's no way I'm passing you up." His arm wrapped around you, pulling you in.

Cheek to cheek, not even a kiss placed on your face would have made your heart beat as hard and fast as it had. Witnessing him pull the thick and already warm leather jacket off his back and around yours made you swallow hard. Adjusting your coat, he placed his gloved hands against your cheeks to hold you in place just so he could look deeply into your eyes.

"Of course it's a yes."

"I never meant to leave you like that."

He sat across from you, steaming drink cupped between his hands to warm his cold fingertips. He looked all the same the more you stared, but the subtle changes from time having passed still stood out.

The natural dark blonde locks of his hair were longer, a few extra piercings along his ears, and his once sliced eyebrow now grown out with the mark of another piercing recently removed beginning to heal. His clothes seemed new, not thrifted as he used to wear. And even as he spoke, his voice seemed to have grown sadder from what you had last heard.

"There was just so much going on."

"Like what?"

You never considered what he could say that would fix what was broken. Words don't carry as much weight when spoken out of comfort compared to when spoken out of spite.

Thousands of times your mind raced with what could have been the real reason he left you that night without any words ever spoken aloud. Was he seeing someone else behind your back? Had he felt differently about the choices of the band? Was it you? Had you done something to cause him to leave? If his work caused so much sudden change to occur, why had that night specifically driven him to depart, claiming it was out of his care and the safety of your well-being?

What words could possibly cover that?

"I was promised a raise. A new job had become available as the CDC needed more examiners within the city, but the real cost of the job was needing to be fully quarantined." He began, words soft and slow like he regretted saying them now instead of then. "When I got there, they had me practically twiddling my thumbs while doctors with full degrees did the work for me."

"They treated you like the custodian even though they asked you to be there?"

Jeremy, as much as he appeared to be this head-strong bass player with nothing truly figured out—was actually a well-known genius in his department, working for health and services as a part-time examiner and occasional forensic executive. Every glistening piece of jewelry, his beautiful features and likable personality always put him in the spotlight of the stage, but so few people knew what he actually did for a living. All he wanted to do was make music and work off his school loans.

"Exactly." His hand flattened out with his palm up in your direction, a way of showing his appreciation for you following along with what he explained. "I was told, and I swear to this—"

Agony, pain, restless nights of not knowing why. All you wanted was him to come home to you, but all he was trying to do was what he believed was right for himself and you along the way.

"—that you and the band would be safe until we found the leading string of the disease. Something for the authorities to put on the death certificates of all the innocent lives lost to something we couldn’t entirely explain." You could hear him holding back a stutter when he spoke of you. "That this nightmare would come to and end, and I could come home.."

"Can't trust scientists." You had said it dozens of times as a joke.

"But after the first breakthrough, they needed more. As much as I was there to help, and as little as they gave me to do—they refused to let me leave. They made me sign an NDA and everything."

It was a mistake. He had gambled everything on his own thinking he could change the course of your careers all in one go. Fix all the damage his job and debt had done. But he had forgotten about the team effort you and your band had originally created in his solo act of braveness.

"I didn't know what to think." You almost cut him off, the words about to leave his mouth behind sucked back in by his deep inhale. "When you left me that night and I woke up to a note, I couldn't find any reason."

"I thought I would have things sorted and be back home to you in no time."

There was that word again. Home, you both still referred to each other as home.

"But when I came back from quarantine, I saw the billboards of the band's new release to be played live in concert." He breathed so unsteadily. "For some reason, I believed you had moved on without me."

"We did." The tears that had been held down all night slowly began to leave your eyes. You took notice in the whites of Jeremy’s eyes slowly turning red from irritation, finally allowing himself to cry, too. "Because we got the flyer about this competition from our manager. He said it was our chance to get signed, that all we needed was a bass player."

"Right—"

"And when we finally saw you again—" Tears dripped into your drink, long turned cold from the slow conversation pursuing between you and the man you still love like he never went away. "Your name was plastered with some other band. The one you're with now."

"When things started becoming clearer, we finally got a release date for my floor. After that, they pretty much put us out back on the street to return home. Some of us were gone so long, we didn’t have a home to return to. And when I came home, the locks were changed. I knew you had changed with it."

Jeremy, always concerned about others, never stopped fighting.

"I didn’t know any other sort of hobby than the band, so I had to turn to what I knew and find another one that needed me.” He laughed gently, peering down at his shaky hands. “None of us thought we’d even get anywhere until we found the flyer on some random diner's bulletin board. We barely even made it into the sign in list earlier." Jeremy's hand pressed into his face, wiping away the tears he could no longer hold back. "And when I saw the band’s name written on that list—"

Reality was so different, but the two of you still lived in a world where things were connected and flourishing.

"I knew fate was telling me to find you again. No matter the cost. I just—had to tell you what actually happened and let you decide for yourself."

"Decide what, Jeremy?"

"If you would even take me back."

THREE.

You could still feel those calloused fingers pulling at the strings of your heart. It wasn't just his soft eyes, the tears he wept beginning to dry into his skin, or his shaking hand reaching out for your own that made you realize everything was happening for a reason.

It was him, Jeremy sitting before you as himself—as new and old as he appeared, but still the same man you had fallen in love with.

What words could comfort you? None. There was nothing to be said between two broken-hearted people finding themselves in a familiar space all over again.

Tailored to a crowd or to a job’s space, working the energy of so many people time and time again—you and Jeremy had long surpassed basic criteria needed to read a room.

Your body lifted from your seat, hunching over the table and taking his chin between your thumb and index finger. You heard him gasp, felt the sudden breath being sucked into his body as your lips met—and most importantly, felt him fall into a deep kiss.

Although your mind had convinced you to fight it, to black out Jeremy and carry on—there was nothing like feeling his kiss. His plump lips moving along yours, the gentle smell of his sweated out shampoo filling your nostrils from such a close angle. And Jeremy, shaking as he fell back into his seat with a giddy smile on his face.

"So, is that a yes?" This time it was him asking the question that made your body rock back and forth in wonder and excitement.

A paid tab, his hand in yours, and his body guiding you out of the cafe out into the cool night air. Even the lights shined in a similar way, the moon overhead igniting more adrenaline to push through your veins.

And the shiver up your spine didn't go unnoticed—Jeremy's hand falling into a pocket of his leather jacket, the one item of clothing you never imagined you'd see again.

That jacket, made of soft string and thick fake leather—once black but now faded into a gray—the piece wrapped around your form like it had never left.

"I think we're getting a redo." Jeremy was witty towards the scenario, his own sense of deja vu overcoming him and causing him to speak. "Too bad we don't have our apartment to go back to."

You could see his face contort in confusion at the sound of the jingling keys, his eyes matching the loop around your fingers as you pulled the object from your bag. "Thought rent would be more than it was."

His smile, wide and cheeky watching the keys he had left behind—the second object he left in hopes for you to find—still in your safekeeping.

"Nice trick." You claimed, a laugh stifling your words. "Putting your key on my key ring before you left."

"Force of habit to leave hints, I guess."

With Jeremy moving into the room, the apartment's air seemed to revert back to how it smelled then. A scented candle lit somewhere, his natural scent moving throughout the space and claiming it all over again.

You had kept from moving anything. The furniture seemed dented into the flooring from where it sat for so long, even your matched collections of vinyls still stood in the same order on the bookshelf. The same plates and silverware, rugs only cleaned annually and placed back into their spots, blankets folded the same—the apartment still catered to a first time couple's comfort and solace.

"It's—" His laugh, that sweet sound you dreamed of hearing in this space again. "—the same. All of it."

His eyes were as wide as his grin, sight following every familiar feature to the home as he circled the studio apartment.

His calloused hands feeling at the blanket he always covered you and himself with when you would begin to doze off on the couch. His eyes wandered the framed pictures and drawings along the walls, laughing at the randomly placed polaroids scattered across the apartment. It was all joy, the remaining piece of his hold on his emotions finally giving way when he found sight of the bed.

His side was completely made, stiff and the same as he had left it. It was almost as if he could still see the note on his pillow, remembering his own handwriting on the little piece of paper that broke his heart to write. Your side of the bed was entirely messy unlike his made-up side, an obvious sign that you still wished him to be there during the night.

You could see his Adam's apple bob, hear the sounds of a choked up man begin to crack. The tears that fell down his soft cheeks—they were held in for years when they were meant to be released that night, same as everything else.

"I really—" He sniffled between words, your sudden appearance before him pulling him into a hug only making him cry harder. "—left all of this behind for some stupid job that I thought would make things easier in the future?"

"You were thinking of everything at once, Jeremy." On the off-style occasion that words do comfort, now was the proper example. "Thinking is how I became the one you loved. How I got on that stage every night with you. And how I continued to get up there even when you weren't by my side."

"H-How? How did you have the strength to do all of that after what happened?" He cried.

"Do you remember the first thing you said to me that night after we made love for the first time?" Your words were fast, like you yourself wanted them out and into his ears to catch him up to pace—to make him feel what you felt then and now. "It's the same thing you wrote on that note that night, Jeremy."

"I love you."

"You put your forehead against mine so all I could see was your eyes. All I could do was hear your voice as I came back into reality. And that was the first thing you said to bring me back. To make me understand—"

"You were the last person I ever imagined parting from. Ever." Jeremy rambled, his eyes clouded with his own tears as his head fell against your shoulder and grip tightened around you. "You were the first person I ever made love to. And the last."

"I never wanted anyone else more than I wanted you." Your words became softer, his brown but gold highlighted locks running between your fingers as you tugged at the strands to get his attention. Lifting his head and matching your sight, it was like lightning had struck your heart with true love. "And you gave me more."

"I-I love you. I still love you. No—I never stopped." His words ran together, body shaking in your hold with his eyes watching yours. "My back aches in every motel bed. My ears can't enjoy music when you're not the one singing along to my bass."

He appeared so weak, strengthened by your frame before him just as the last of the painful images of loneliness he suffered through faded away, his lips matching yours. Your mind, once racing with a million thoughts of what was or what could be, finally shut up at the sake of having Jeremy back in your hold and his kiss surpassing every other meaningful occurrence in that moment.

When you finally backed away, his head pressing into your neck to place soft kisses while he caught his breath—things had fallen into place. His bag on the sofa, scent filling the space more each second he stood within its walls, and you—falling deep into the sensual spell of your ex boyfriend's lust once more.

"I need you."

FOUR.

His mouth attached to your neck, bringing a low moan from between your lips. His soft hair chilling against your skin from the fibers still holding the temperature of the night air from minutes before.

Scent thick in your nostrils, the same cologne he always wore to a large show—it seemed to drown out all your senses at once and allow him to be the only thing on your mind.

Jeremy always had a way of pulling you from reality, placing you in a dream-like state for hours at a time. His voice calling into your ear with light sounds of pleasure, your name the loudest of them all. His skin heating up quickly against your own, the discarded clothing now laying over the same objects he couldn't take his eyes off before.

And for a split second—a dash of your eyes around the room witnessed everything you had missed. Finding his shirt tossed on the bookshelf where the vinyls were stacked. His pants slowly falling off the arm of the sofa. Jermy on top of you, the weight of both your bodies falling into the same dip in the cushions as you always did. It was heaven.

"Fuck—" The word was subtle from his mouth, his tongue’s main focus on kitten licking the soft spot on your neck. "I missed this."

"Me too." You whined, combing your fingers through his hair.

His shirtless form, abs tightening and expanding with each breath that overtook both his chest and stomach from how hard he panted. You could hear his hisses, each bump of your thigh against his length making it harder for him to not lose himself right then and there.

"Still a tease." He nearly growled.

Your neck began to bore him as his mouth moved lower. Across your chest, a lap at your hardening nipples, and finding himself sucking at the skin of your lower abdomen right above your underwear.

It was by accident, the loud gasp you released at the feeling of his lips finding you through the thin fabric of your underwear. His tongue poking between his lips to taste you, arousal overtaking your own body in the same way it was his.

Your mind felt fuzzy at the feeling of him lapping at you through the fabric. Legs shaking, kicking at his own bent knees pressing into the sofa. His arms at either side of your head, the strong scent of his deodorant once clouding the scent of your lightly-sweated bodies beginning to fill the room. And you felt like you were on cloud nine.

The mess he had created from his own saliva soaking against your underwear mixed with your own responsive juices made a wet sound as he pulled at them. Peeling them from you, separating your legs to place himself comfortably between them, and the man seemed to lose himself over you.

His tongue was like hot water overlapping every sensitive spot, his fingers coating where his mouth couldn't. You could hardly make a sound from the amount of pleasure filling you all at once, Jeremy's name the only syllables you could mutter.

"What do you want?" That eyebrow lift, his smirk covered in a glistening, light coat of arousal and saliva, and his arms pressing beneath you.

Without missing a beat, it only took two steps and Jeremy's strong arms to lift and toss you onto the bed. Shaking from the cool air against your hot skin, he could only laugh at the way your hand reached out for him.

"Want me?" He begged the question, but you were the only one truly begging. To feel him again—he knew you needed him badly. "Am I what you want?"

"J-Jeremy—I, please."

"Please! Please!" His tone was mocking but soft—dark, his eyes darker, and his body leaning over you like he was the only one you'd ever want to see again. And he was right. He spoke just above a whisper, calmly although it seemed as if his head was buzzing with excitement. "Can't believe I left you all alone."

This time the statement wasn't out of sadness, not a drip of worry on his tongue. He knew you'd touch yourself to him, whine his name that only you could hear, and find yourself wishing your hands were his. The man had you wrapped around his finger, your heart beating rhythmically as he finally sunk into your walls.

Maybe it was the amount of saliva he poured onto you through his tongue, allowing himself to match the natural wetness your body was already creating. But the squelch from his cock slipping into you, it was nothing like the cry that left your mouth.

His calloused hand found yours, stretching your fingers from the tight fist it clenched into from feeling full. The rough calluses, a huff from Jeremy to tell you he was already too close to hold on much longer, and the deepest thrust into you he could create.

Your hips matched his own, feeling him hitting so deep into you made your words even less coherent than they were to start. You could feel the sweat from his body dripping onto your own, feel the heat radiating off him.

With your body finally getting the fill it needed, wanted, dreamt of, and begged for—a white light quickly took over your sight, slowly turning into darkness and stars.

You could hardly make him out, Jeremy's cock burying itself inside of you until the flush heat you felt coming from his body suddenly filled your insides.

"Fuck—my, ahh. I'm—" Jeremy was just at a loss for words as you, his hand holding yours tightly and forehead pressing into yours the only sign for you to come back into reality.

Sweat from both your bodies mixed together, his body keeping upright above yours with only his head leaning against you and cock slowly pulling out.

"Jere-my—" You stuttered, his eyes quickly looking into your own as he tried to catch his breath.

"What is it, baby?"

"Please don't leave me this time."

His pearled smile was bright in your eyesight, closing to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat slowing down to a normal rate, and hear his breath regain a steady pace. "I'm not going anywhere."

Falling to his side of the bed, the space cold enough to make him shiver—you finally realized how full circle things had come. The lonesome nights had ended, any tears falling from now on were only out of happiness—and Jeremy was right by your side.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, pulling you into his side and watching you rest your head on his chest.

"I was just thinking—" Your words were finally full of energy and not breathless. "—where to go from here."

"With the competition?"

Your head nodded, eyes catching another smirk growing across his lips.

"I've been thinking about that, myself." He grinned. "And you know what I figured out?"

"What's that, Jeremy?"

"Nowhere in the rules does it state that two bands can't form one band together in order to win."

Clever as they come, a man with the lights shining on him before he even understood his talent or power of enthrallment, and especially where his head and heart lay in the world. Jeremy had been put right where he belongs in life, and as your partner—and was quickly learning that there was more in store for the both of you, together.

"So, what do you say? Want that do-over?"

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

[keitodoingstuff]

Mentally dead ; chapter one

word count: 1.3k

note: Just a little fiction book I started writing.

characters: Lukas(oc), Aiden(oc), Mey(oc)

tw: first time writer

________________________________

Another morning in the small city of Kuressaare and Lukas has just stepped out of his bus. He begins his fast-paced anxiety-filled walk towards the park, to spend some time before his workday starts. Going to work has always filled him with anxiety and today was no different. He feels a vibration from his pocket and smiles softly to himself, knowing who that message is from.

The phone screen shines brightly with the name Mey right in the middle. Mey is his girlfriend. His beautiful, breathtaking, adorable girlfriend. No one could make him as happy as his girlfriend. He taps on the notification, still smiling, and begins to type a reply. But being an idiot, he forgot to look up from his phone and ended up bumping into someone head-first.

He stumbled backwards and looked up at the person “Oh my god! I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking. Are you okay?” cheeks turning red from embarrassment as he fixes his hat.

The man looks down at him and smiles gently “No, no! it’s okay! I wasn’t looking either”, he looks at Lukas and notices his impatient pacing “Where are you in such a hurry to this early in the morning?”.

The shorter boy seems to be a bit nervous as he looks around the park, it would almost seem he is looking for something or someone. “Oh? Uh I’m just having a nice walk around the park. Enjoying the morning” he lets out a nervous chuckle and sits down on a nearby bench, the other man still standing in the same place and watches him take a seat. “Well then,” he says happily and takes a seat next to Lukas “may I join you?”. He looks up at the man he just met with a slightly surprised expression, but it falls to soft smile. “Sure.”

They sit next to each other in comfortable silence, enjoying the early morning singing of birds. Dew is still dripping off grass blades and a soft wind blows through the treetops.

After a few minutes of silence, the man next to Lukas jolts up and turns towards him “Ah! I forgot to introduce myself!” he reaches out his hand to him expecting a handshake “My name is Aiden. Nice to meet you!”. Lukas stares at Aiden, trying to process the newly learnt information. He’s not sure if he should share his name with a stranger he met on the street, but Aiden seems nice. So, he smiles at him and shakes his hand,

“Nice to meet you Aiden. My name is Lukas.”

 They let go of each other’s hands and Aiden looks at his wristwatch “It’s 8:06 now. I suppose you don’t need to be anywhere?” He leans back against the bench and lets his head fall back, taking in a deep breath and obviously enjoying his time with a stranger.

Lukas looks back at him and chuckles softly “Actually,” he stands up in front of Aiden “since the store is open now, I will go grab a bite for breakfast” pointing with his thumb towards the general direction of a convenience store, he takes a step away from him and puts his hands back in his pockets. Aiden on the other hand stares at him with his mouth gently open, suddenly stands up “I’m coming too!” and starts walking to where Lukas had pointed.

The two boys start walking towards the store while chatting along the way. The resident bridge cat greeted them on their way, asking for a few pats, and some crows cawed from the treetops.

 -

 “Could you choose faster?”

Aiden asked the boy, who was looking at the cold treats behind a glass door, annoyed, he didn’t have the patience to wait for him. “Ugh! Give me a second! I’m almost done.” Lukas replied still choosing his breakfast.

Aiden stared at him in silence for a few more seconds before turning on his heel and walking towards the drinks section “You keep choosing, I’ll go grab a drink.” The other boy waves his hand at him, acknowledging his leave.

 Choosing a breakfast snack has never been this difficult.

Finally, he pulls on the handle of the glass door and reaches in to grab one of the sweet snacks. Breakfast in hand, he makes his way over to the drink aisle, to get a drink or perhaps to look for a familiar stranger. He peeks behind the corner of the shelves to see – no one. Aiden is not there. But he said he would be here. Still, he walks into the aisle and bends down to look at the juice boxes. It is again, time for a choice.

Suddenly he feels a hand on his back, he jolts up in shock and looks at the person to see who would dare invade his personal space in such a manner. To his delight, he is greeted by Aiden’s smiling face. “Did I scare you?” Aiden asks, already knowing he did give him a scare. Lukas looks back at the juice boxes and puffs his cheeks in anger, trying to ignore the overly happy man next to him “No you didn’t. Now help me choose – should I take the cherry or apple juice?” Aiden’s smile fades a bit as he rolls his eyes and grabs a box of apple juice from the shelf.

“Wait what?”

The shorter male runs after the slightly taller one and slows down to walk next to him “I see you made a choice” he smirks up at him and reaches out his hand waiting for his juice box. Aiden puts the juice box in his hand but doesn’t let go yet “I had to! Since you were incapable of doing that.” Lukas snatches the box from his hand and hovers it under the red light of a self-checkout, waiting to hear a beep “Oi! I was just asking for your opinion.” He beeps his other items as well and begins the payment.

 Aiden is already waiting outside and sipping on his own juice box. Lukas shoves the juice box in his pocket and starts unwrapping his breakfast while stepping out of the store and looking over to Aiden “What now?” he bites into his food and waits for a reply “I was about to ask you that. I can do whatever you want to do.” Lukas looks at the time on his phone, falls in thought for a second and looks back at him.

“Well, I should be heading to work soon.”

“Oh,”

Aiden stares down at his own food with a disappointed expression and suddenly bites down “I guess I can’t come with you then?” he spoke with his mouth full. Lukas  laughs at the man in front of him “No, you can’t come with me. But this is a small town, we might see each other again.” He says and takes a bite of his own food.

“Yeah!” finally he swallows the food in his mouth “I will find you again, I promise!” Lukas walks to a nearby trashcan and throws away the wrapper “Well then,” he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks back to Aiden “I will be on my way.” Aiden reaches out his hand for a handshake “Have fun at work! Try not to get fired.” They shake hands once again “I won’t” Lukas chuckles at the other man’s comment. After a few seconds of silence, they smile at each other and part ways, Lukas is going to work, and Aiden is going to – who knows where.

 -

 He pushes down on the door handle of a rather heavy door and steps inside. Dragging his feet up the stairs, the anxiety hits him like a tsunami – he starts patting his pockets and fixing his hair while also trying not to make any excess noise in the quiet hallway. The office door is already open, as on any other day. He stops right before the door and takes a deep breath.

 Just another average day at work.

 But the anxiety in his mind won’t leave him alone. Finally, he steps into the office and begins to take off his jacket. “Good morning.”

________________________________

[sassbewitchedmyass]

What if Elliot left the NYPD but never left Olivia?

Covered

[corgifruityart]

im new to promoting stuff i’ve done, especially when it comes to writing but eh; i’ve written a small submas one shot of the twins when they’re younger and helping each other out with evolving their partner pokemon!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42643761

enjoy!

[findinghomes]

I’ll Do the Same (2.3k words, 1/1)

“Do you know any other words, idiot?” George asked, but Dream understood the words beneath the surface.

Trust me, they said. I would never hurt you.

Dream wanted to reach out and take George’s hand in his, to feel his skin against his finger, to map his pulse, to memorize his movements. This was the George he had been waiting for—the one who hovered, who stole his food, who looked at him with those soft eyes.

“George,” he said, because if George was a menace, he was too.

-

Or, Dream and George dance in the kitchen and around their feelings.

[diecast-aircraft]

Chapters: 1/11 Fandom: Top Gun (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Characters: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Additional Tags: Movie: Top Gun Maverick (2022), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Adjacent, Could Fit Into Canon If You Squint, Mild Injuries, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw Lives, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Fluff, Military Inaccuracies, Medical Inaccuracies, Airport Inaccuracies, Honestly so many inaccuracies, Just assume i know nothing, Scientific Inaccuracies, Science Fiction, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like goose, Past Character Death Summary:

After crashing the Darkstar and waking up in the hospital, Pete Mitchell starts to notice some really strange things.

Like the fact that Ice has seemingly changed his phone number, or the fact that Bradley is actually being nice to him.

Not that he minds that last one all that much, he just has to figure out what’s up soon or else it might just drive him crazy.

[ur-fav-alien]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: All Elite Wrestling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Orange Cassidy & Donovan Danhausen Characters: Orange Cassidy, Donovan Danhausen Additional Tags: becoming friends, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Danhausen is strange, Orange Cassidy is also strange, They bond over their strange-ness and chinese food, implied: Chuck Taylor/Orange Cassidy Series: Part 2 of Danhausen + Friends Summary:

Some how, in the weirdness of the world, these two total opposites find solace in one another. Orange Cassidy and Danhausen are the best of friends.