#* v. paging doctor sleep.

[nuwanders]

nothing worse than googling symptoms you instinctively know are probably reason alone to contact a doctor asap hoping that google will tell you you're fine but then google tells u to contact a doctor asap :|

#text #have been awake since 4 waiting for the doctors surgery to open bc im too anxious to sleep even though i know its probably fine :(( #when will my series of more-than-minor but not-quite-serious medical ailments finally end #the nhs page (which normally is v reassuring) had a red banner like #!!!!!!!! If you are experiencing X call 111 NOW !!!!!!!

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles

[swampstew]

How aboutttt Fluff 'Simple Touches' with Trafalgar Law? if there's still room for requests

Hello Sto♥ Thank you so much for your patience while I was going through it. I hope this has all the fluff you wanted♥ You requested fluffy, simple touches and I give you [ Sleep ] falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

Oh Captain, My Captain Law

Warnings: None. Fluff and domestic stuffs. Word count: 711

Your shoulder became burdened with the heaviness of Law’s weary head. The two of you had been sitting on the couch in his room, reading. Well, had been reading. Law had been studying texts on gene splicing and you had been reading that book you’d been meaning to read but kept putting off because you never had the time.

It finally had its moment. It’s perfectly unbent spine had been creased while you read the first 10 chapters when Law had fallen asleep. With a quiet sigh, you folded the corner of the page and set the book aside.

Leaning back more comfortably, Law’s hat became displaced and you took it off. Your fingers brushed against his silky, black locks when you moved the puffy white hat, and you couldn’t help but touch them again, carefully running your fingers and weaving them between his strands.

Law let out a content sigh and his breathing deepened, and you took it as permission to continue at a slower pace.

If you were honest with yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen Law look so at ease. Or so tired that he promptly passed out. Either way, his face looked free of conflict, free of scowling. The lines on his forehead gone, the tight clenching of his jaw also gone.

Your fingers ran down his face, grazing against the unshaven stubble along his jawline. Fingertips gently pressed against his chin as you eyed his lips. Pressed in a thin line like always, you smirked to yourself.

You’ve been with Law a few years now and it seemed like the only time he looked rested was when he was with you, and not just because he got actual sleep. You liked to think to yourself that you brought the chronically introverted man some peace. Always planning, always researching, Law worked surprisingly hard for a Worst Generation pirate that wasn’t busy conquering territories or otherwise naming himself King.

He wouldn’t tell you the whole truth of what he was presently trying to figure out – but that’s expected. Law’s a doctor, a man who respected science and all the steps involved. He wouldn’t reveal anything until he tested his theories and hypothesis and found conclusions. Good or bad results.

His lithe body gently stretched before he leaned into you some more. You turned your body towards his so he could settle into you at an incline that was better for his neck and spine alignment. Tucking his head where your shoulder and neck met, his hair lightly tickled you as he settled comfortably in your embrace.

Your chin sat on his head as you ruminated in the memories of your time together. The day you joined his crew, the length of time it took for him to open up to you, the day you confessed your feelings towards each other. So deep in your nostalgia you didn’t realize your arm moved to rest across his tattooed chest, fingers partially under the v-cut of his cotton t-shirt, hugging the man to your body.

You didn’t notice the sly smile on his face either. And you wouldn’t for another 8 minutes as you replayed memories, daydreamed of new ones, all the while stroking his scalp and tightening your hold on him almost reflexively from time to time.

Law didn’t say anything, not wanting to break the spell of tranquility the two of you were in. He was perfectly aware of how absent he’d been recently, and he wasn’t one to state the obvious so instead he chose to give in to his deepest desire. To rest with you. To be at ease, not interrupted, to live in a state of blissful quiet.

Damn the near inaudible groan he let out when your fingers slowly grazed his scalp in a delightful way.

“How long have you been up?” you asked him.

He scrunched his eyes, half hoping he could pretend but he was never that good an actor, “Never went to sleep actually. I just wanted to rest my eyes.”

“And your head, and your back, and your body,” you quip, hugging him.

“Well who am I to say no to such patient and loving arms.”

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could have said so.”

“Tch, pirates don’t cuddle.”

#trafalgar law #oh captain my captain mini event #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #swampstew bedtime stories #swampstew #swampstew stories #trafalgar d water law #one piece fanfiction

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 20

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Y/N gets back home from the hospital and Em comes for a sleepover.

Tags : Fluff - SMUT (P in V, foreplay)

Y/N’s POV 

The whole incident had brought you and Marshall a lot closer than you already were. You took it to heart, when he said he was missing you, when you were talking in the studio that fateful night before you were assaulted. You had been so focused on your relationship with Josh, so eager to get Marshall out of your head (or rather, your heart), that you had probably neglected your friendship a little bit. Still, he had been absolutely amazing to you while you were in the hospital, basically acting like your personal guard-dog, pillow, assistant and dream catcher. It got to a point where it was annoying for other people. Josh didn’t complain about it, he never would, but he did make a few comments about Marshall “always being around”. Talia and Jamal even joked about Marshall moving in, because he would never leave you alone. You could tell that Talia was a bit pissed off. You knew she loved him, but she also wanted to care for you. So when you got out of the hospital, they were basically bickering at each other, fighting over who would get “custody” of you. Marshall offered for you to stay at his place and hang out, while Talia seemed to strongly disagree. 

You’ve been with her nonstop for five days, Em, you’re not her only friend, you know ? She said as she rolled her eyes. 

I know. I’m just saying she can chill at the house if she wants, he shrugged. 

We have a house too, she said. She can chill there. 

Or maybe she wants to enjoy the movie room or the pool, he replied. 

Or maybe she wants her room, Talia insisted. 

Or maybe she wants y’all to stop fighting like divorced parents ? Jamal chimed in. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. You had been cleared by the doctor and were ready to leave the hospital. You’d been ready for about an hour and couldn’t wait to get out of that dreadful place but they wouldn’t stop arguing over small details, like who would drive you home. You didn’t tell them, but on top of that, you had Josh blowing up your phone, asking when he would actually get to see you. You were actually touched by all of this attention : not everyone had this many people they could count on. As annoying as it could get - because you just wanted to leave - it was a blessing. 

We could just leave them here and grab food somewhere, you suggested to Jamal. 

I like that, he said as he grabbed your bag. 

I want to eat too, Talia said. 

Me too, Marshall added. 

Look who’s suddenly on the same page, Jamal grinned. So, what do you want to eat ? 

Of course, that was enough for the bickering to start again. You offered to cook dinner, but obviously, none of your friends would let you lift a finger, even though you had basically spent five days sleeping and were more energized than ever. Thankfully, everyone ended up agreeing on the food, and you managed to display some excellent diplomatic skills when it came to organizing your schedule. You sent Marshall home after dinner so that he could actually get some rest and a full night of sleep and had a movie night with your roommates. As for Josh, you made plans to see him in a few days. Initially, you wanted to invite him to dinner on the night you got home, but your friends made a valid point that it would be wiser to wait for a few days, so that your first night home would be more chill. After the movie, you and Talia went to your room to do some pampering and she could not refrain from grilling you about “Em”. 

So… First night without cerberus in a while, huh ? She playfully asked. 

I guess, you giggled. He wasn’t that bad, though. 

Oh he definitely was, she chuckled. You should have seen him when you were asleep. He was standing there like some sort of bouncer, making sure not too many people were in the room. And then, when it got too loud, he turned into a cranky old librarian like “Shhhhh”. 

She imitated him, with his serious demeanor and frown. You couldn’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter. 

It’s sweet, you said softly - you couldn’t help defending him. 

He’s too much, she said. I swear, he is the most dramatic person I have ever met. 

It’s part of the charm, I guess, you shrugged. 

Oh, really… “Charm” ? She grinned. I thought we already had a prince charming… 

You know what I mean, you said with a frown. 

Actually, I don’t, she said. I mean, you’re wearing his clothes all the time, he spent five days in the hospital with you, you guys are always hanging out… I’m telling you : I wouldn’t enjoy being your boyfriend if I had to deal with Em being all over you. 

I know, you sighed. 

Especially when you enjoy it so much, she added. 

You looked at her but said nothing. Had anyone else made that comment, you would have lied, but it was Talia, so there was no use. 

I knew it !!! She almost screamed. 

Yeah well, you can know it but not shout it, ok ? You said. 

You like Em !!! 

I do, you groaned. But believe me, it’s not fun. 

Oh, boo-hoo, “my crush is all over me and it’s hard”, she giggled. Yeah, must suck to be you, Y/N. Especially when the crush in question is the wet dream of millions of people across the world. Remind me again, why are you bothering with Josh ? 

You ended up explaining the whole story to her : how you had a chance with Marshall, that was ruined by the argument, how you had planned on confessing your feelings for him in NYC but didn’t because he ended up dating Nicole and how you ended up dating Josh. 

Here’s the thing, you said : I love Marshall, but he doesn’t love me back. And I like Josh too, you know ? Like, actually like him. I want to give this relationship a chance, because he is so great. 

I feel you, she said in a voice full of compassion. You deserve to be happy. Em is a fucking dumbass in my opinion… 

He’s not. He doesn’t like me like this, it’s ok. He’s still my best friend. 

Yeah, but I don’t understand, though. For someone who doesn’t like you like this, he is all over you. That doesn’t make sense, you know ? She said. Anyway, if Josh makes you happy, that’s what matters, right ? 

He’s just nice, you replied. And Josh does make me happy. I can’t wait for you to meet him. 

I can’t wait either, she said. But he’s no Em. 

Promise me you’ll still be nice to him ? 

Of course, she said. 

A MONTH LATER 

You had finally introduced Josh to Talia and Jamal and they seemed to like him. The four of you would go on double dates, even some triple dates with Hailie and Evan. You had lots of fun and it felt really nice to have your closest friends supporting your relationship. Talia’s birthday was coming up in a few days and she even invited him. Josh was being as amazing as ever, and you wished you could say everything was perfect but it wasn’t. You’d been together for more than three months at this point and you still hadn’t been able to seal the deal. You’d had plenty of opportunity and slept together a bunch of times but that was all it was : sleeping. Not that you didn’t want to do the deed, on the contrary, you were both up for it, but the attack had left its mark, so every time he tried to do more than kiss you or hold your hand, you ended up being triggered. He said he was fine with it but, obviously, you could tell he was a bit disappointed. At that point, you were a triggered, yet horny mess, which put you in quite a mood. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to have sex ever again. Thankfully, you also spent a lot of time with your friends, which helped you get your mind off things. You were either hanging out with Jamal and/or Talia, at the studio or with Marshall. 

That night was your first night sleeping alone in a month. Ever since you got home, you were prone to nightmares. The doctors at the hospital had offered to give you some medication for anxiety and even some sleeping pills, but given your past, you refused to pick up the prescription. You’d been sober for a while now, which was great, but you still didn’t trust yourself. So your friends, being as amazing as they were, took turns having sleepovers in your room. The most frequent guests were either Talia or Josh, but sometimes, Marshall would come over too. It was the middle of the night and you were waking up from yet another nightmare and, normally, you would have someone by your side, but you had decided to try sleeping alone for the first time, since Talia and Jamal had a romantic weekend getaway planned and were spending a night in a hotel, and you weren’t too sure about wanting Josh coming over. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy his company or that he wouldn’t happily cuddle with you, but you felt like he might get his hopes up about finally having sex and you didn’t want to let him down yet again. You tried to pace yourself by using some breathing exercises, but to no avail. It was as if you could feel the attacker’s breath down your neck. Plus, it was a windy night and every noise from the outside was startling you. So much for putting on your big girl’s pants. You decided to call Marshall. 

Hey honey, you heard his sleepy voice say. What’s up ? 

Am I bothering you ? You asked in a little voice. 

Never, he said softly. What’s up ? 

I’m scared, you said on the verge of tears. I’m alone in the house and I feel like… He’s watching me or something. 

Oh. Isn’t Josh sleeping over ? He asked. 

Not tonight…, you said sheepishly. 

Want me to come over ? 

Do you mind ? You asked. 

You know I don’t, he said. Movie night ? 

Sure. 

Great. Be there in 30, ok ? 

When he arrived, he gave you the biggest hug and you put on some random, crappy movie. You were both laying on your bed, watching the movie on your computer. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder and was mindlessly playing with your hair. His presence was soothing, and his hilarious comments were keeping you distracted. At some point, a steamy sex scene came on, and it made you feel a bit awkward. It didn’t help that it reminded you of all the action you were definitely not getting. Marshall picked on it right away. 

Are you blushing ?! He asked with a grin. 

What ? No I’m not…, you replied awkwardly. 

You’re so red. You’re blushing. 

Shut up, please, you whispered. 

Come on, it’s a movie, he chuckled. 

It’s just… It’s so awkward, you know ? I hate love scenes in movies, you said. 

Oh, believe me, actors usually hate filming them, he said. More awkward to film than to watch. 

Have you ever filmed one of those for a music video ? You asked. 

Sort of, he said. But the worst was the scene in 8 Mile. Didn’t take long, but I definitely didn’t have much fun. 

Oh right, you said. I sort of forgot that you were in a movie. 

What ?! You haven’t seen my movie ?! He asked in a fake offended voice. 

I haven’t, you giggled. What’s it about ? 

He proceeded to describe the movie for you, explaining the plot. You thought it was absolutely crazy that you were friends with someone who had a movie based on his life. Once again, it reminded you of the big deal that he was. 

Can we watch it ? You asked. That sounds like something I’d enjoy. 

Sure, he chuckled. Haven't seen that in a while. 

You changed the movie and put on 8 Mile. It was both weird and fun to see Marshall twenty years ago. 

God, you’re hot, you said before you could catch yourself. 

He looked at you with a smirk. 

Why thank you, he said with a smile. 

No, I meant before, you said. I mean, in the movie… Uh, you look good in that. 

Better than now ? He asked with a grin. 

No, you said. 

So I’m even hotter now ? 

Yeah. I mean no, I-I…, you began to say as you felt your cheeks burning. 

Relax, I’m just fucking with you, he giggled. God, you’re blushing so hard it’s hilarious. 

You focused your intention on the movie and tried to ignore him. The movie was good and you enjoyed it. Marshall definitely had great acting skills. At some point, the love scene with Brittany Murphy came on and you found yourself biting your lip. It was just a movie scene, for sure, but it was a steamy one and you were lucky enough to know that Marshall was actually good in bed (or on a couch, or in a car…). In fact, he was the best you ever had. And the last. This thought had you hot and bothered, and equally frustrated. 

Like what you see ? He teasingly whispered in your ear. 

God, shut up, you groaned as you blushed. His voice in your ear wasn’t helping you. 

Not a chance, he giggled. 

It’s not funny, Marshall… 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. It was an innocent peck, as there had been thousands before, but it definitely made matters worse. And obviously, you had no poker face, so he picked on it right away. 

Don’t tell me you’re horny, he chortled. 

Don’t you ever shut up ? 

What ? Isn’t the lobster up to the challenge ? He grinned. 

Well, I guess we’ll never know, you groaned. 

He looked at you in confusion and pressed pause. His eyebrows were furrowed. 

What’s wrong ? He asked. 

Nothing, you said. It’s just… Nevermind. Let’s watch the movie, ok ? 

You can tell me anything, honey, he said softly. What’s up with Josh ? I thought he was great. 

I can’t put out, you blurted out. So, yeah, he’s great, but he’s probably going to end up leaving me and I’m going to grow my hymen back and die a virgin. 

He couldn’t refrain from chuckling and you shot him a death glare. 

Sorry, he said as he caught himself. It’s not what you’re saying. It’s the way you’re saying it. I feel for you, though. 

You do ? You asked with a pout. 

Well, I mostly feel for him, but yeah…

He’s not the one panicking every time someone tries to touch him, you groaned. But yeah, whatever, let’s feel for Josh, I guess. 

No, he chuckled. What I mean is that having you as a girlfriend and not getting any action must be really hard. Pun intended. 

He managed to make you chuckle. He always had the silliest jokes. 

Come on, you horndog, let’s watch the end of the movie, he said as he shook his head, trying not to laugh. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you to him and you went back to watching the movie. 

Is that alright ? He asked with a smirk. Or am I too hot for you ? 

Fuck you, Marshall, you whined. 

Well, yeah, you wish, he chuckled. Just kidding, I’ll stop. 

Thankfully, the movie was good and you managed to focus on it. Soon after the movie ended, you fell asleep. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

Showing 8 Mile to Y/N was pretty interesting. Marshall got to watch her reactions and it was a fun sight, especially when it came to the sex scene. He couldn’t help but notice her blushing and biting her lip and, obviously, he wasn’t going to miss that great of an opportunity to make fun of her. He didn’t mean to be an asshole, but learning she hadn’t actually slept with Josh made his day. Not that he didn’t want her to be fulfilled - he did - but the fucker didn’t deserve her anyway. He knew he shouldn’t rejoice in another man’s sexual misery, and karma made sure to remind him. As Y/N fell asleep, he kept on tossing and turning. For one, he wasn’t really tired anymore - somehow, being woken up at 2AM fucks up your sleep schedule. Secondly, seeing her all hot and bothered had him all hot and bothered. He could make fun of her all he wanted, but he hadn’t had any action in a while either. He probably would have if he hadn’t blown it up with Nicole, though. 

Y/N encouraged him to patch things up with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. After realizing his feelings for Y/N were far too strong, dating Nicole seemed stupid. Years ago, he definitely would have used her to get over his feelings, but that wasn’t exactly the man he wanted to be. So he did the “right” thing to do : he sent flowers and apologized for lacking empathy being an ass, but decided not to see her anymore. Thankfully, none of his friends knew he was dating, so he didn’t have to explain his change of heart to anybody except Y/N. She didn’t understand at first but she ended up leaving him alone on the matter. 

He took a look at her as he tried to fall asleep. She was really cute and the sight brought a smile to his face. She seemed to sleep peacefully - at least for now - and he hoped she wouldn’t have any nightmares. He kissed the top of her head and cuddled with her before closing his eyes. He almost went to sleep when he heard her moan. Not an unusual sound since she kept on having these awful dreams. He almost woke her up when he heard something unexpected : his name. 

Marshall…, she moaned. Harder. 

Was she having a dream… about him ? He was about to shake it off when she moaned again. He had absolutely no clue as to what he was supposed to do. Leave ? Wake her up ? He thought about letting her enjoy her dream but as her moans got deeper, he felt as if he was about to go crazy. To make matters worse, she was squirming. She always moved when she slept but now, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Honey, wake up, he whispered as he gently shook her arm and turned on the little lamp on the nightstand. 

She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him, flustered. She sat up and he could see her nipples poking through her tee-shirt. This woman was going to be the death of him and he knew it. 

Are you alright ? She asked in a small voice. 

Are you ? He asked as he couldn’t keep himself from smirking. 

At that point, it was second nature to him. He had to tease her about it. Anyone would do the same if they were laying in bed with a beautiful woman having a wet dream about them, right ? She looked at him and he could tell that she knew he heard her. She said absolutely nothing, though. 

So… sweet dreams ? He chuckled. 

She was biting her lip, looking away. She looked incredibly hot and it took everything he had not to jump on her this minute. Plus, he didn’t want to trigger her, obviously.  Not to lie, he was having a huge fucking ego boost, knowing it was him who had her in this state. Not Josh. Not anyone else. Him. As seconds went by, the silence was starting to become heavy. They were both horny, it was painfully obvious. She was looking down, obviously uncomfortable. 

Look at me, he said softly, coaxing her chin in his direction. 

Her beautiful eyes seemed lost in a haze. Her pupils were dilated and her chest was heaving. She seemed to be in some state. 

What did you dream about ? He asked. 

Y-You, she whispered in a husky voice. 

I didn’t ask who, I asked what, he said softly, his hand still on her cheek. Care to describe ?

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. He chuckled softly, amazed at the effect he was having on her. He could definitely get high on this feeling. He grazed her bottom lip with his thumb. It was swollen from the biting. All he wanted was to kiss her. He brought his face slightly closer to her. They were staring into each other’s eyes. He traced her features with his fingers : her cheekbones, her jaw, the curve of her neck… 

Marshall, she whispered. 

Tell me to stop, he said. 

But she didn’t. Instead, she brought her hand to his face and cupped his cheek. It was soft, intimate and unexpectedly sexy. Her breathing was heavy and so was his. He couldn’t resist her anymore. He captured her lips in a soft kiss. His heart was pounding. For a quarter of a second, he feared that she would push him away, slap him or run away from him. But she kissed him back. Thank God. Their kisses were delicate and soft, but they could both feel the passion brewing in each other. He gently bit her lip, causing her to moan. 

Tell me about your dream, baby, he said in a husky voice. Describe it for me. 

Y-You were…behind me and… I was in your arms, she said. Spooning. 

Her voice was breathy and her eyes were closed. He kissed her gently and grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers. 

What else ? He asked. 

You were hum… kissing my neck… and biting it, she whispered. 

I know how much you love neck kisses baby, he whispered in her ear. Can I kiss your neck ? 

Yes, she muttered, almost pleading. 

He smiled and gently got her hair out of the way before planting soft kisses on her neck, in that soft spot he knew she had. This caused her to whimper, much to his satisfaction. She ran her fingers through his hair, maintaining his head where it was. He chuckled and gently bit her neck. 

Tell me more about your dream, honey, he commanded. 

You were pounding in me, she said hoarsely. 

Was it good ? He asked. 

So good. 

He kissed her neck again. He was dying to make her his, but he didn’t want to rush her. He just wanted her to enjoy the moment. He could tell she needed some release. 

How about you show me how good it was, baby ? He suggested. 

W-What ? She asked shyly. 

Touch yourself for me, honey, he said before kissing her shoulder. 

He knew he probably shouldn’t ask her to do that. But in this instant he absolutely didn’t care. He was burning for her and he could feel her desire. They were looking at each other, as if they were high. She nodded and began running her hands on her body, on top of her clothes. She was wearing a tee-shirt and shorts. She closed her eyes, seemingly enjoying the sensations. One of her hands went to her breasts, stroking and pinching her nipples, while the other rubbed her thigh. Apparently, it was enough for her breathing to accelerate. This was the sexiest thing he had thing in a while. He was so hard it was almost painful. This view was both a blessing and a curse. He needed to touch her. He gently cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch while she kept on touching herself, her hand going from her thigh to her pussy. 

I want to hold you, he said softly. Can I ? 

She nodded softly, her eyes still closed. He settled behind her. He took her in his arms while she rested between his legs, still busy with herself. Her head was resting on his shoulder as he traced the features of her angel face. Eventually,her hands got underneath her clothes.

You can just take them off, baby, he whispered. 

Once again, she said nothing. Only sweet moans were escaping her lips. However, she seemed to agree, as she removed her tee-shirt and her shorts. She spread her legs a little and rubbed her clit, which made her whine. He kissed her temple while his fingers were gently tracing circles on her shoulder. Her moans got louder when she inserted a finger inside her pussy. He knew she was soaking wet and it was making him ever hornier. He knew how good it felt to be inside of her. 

Does it feel good, baby ? He asked in her ear. 

Yes, she moaned before inserting a second finger. 

He spilled kisses in her neck while she fingered herself, determined to see how loud he could make her moan. 

Come for me, babygirl, he whispered. 

I can’t, she replied in a croaky voice. 

Do you want me to help you ? He asked softly. 

She stopped what she was doing and turned to him and looked at him in anticipation. She looked shy. He placed a tender kiss on her lips and stroked her cheek. 

I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, baby, I promise, he said. 

Ok, she whispered. 

Ok what ? He asked in order to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding anything. 

You can… help me. 

He kissed her again. He felt so proud that she trusted him enough. All he wanted was for her to feel safe. He grabbed her hand and gently sucked her fingers, enjoying her taste. He removed his tee-shirt so that he could feel her skin against his. 

Come here, he said as he put her in a spoon position. Take my hand and show me what you want, baby. 

They were comfortably laying in bed, cuddling while he kissed her neck. She grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. He could feel her heart pounding. He gently pinched her nipple, causing her to moan and arch her back against him, no doubt feeling how hard he was through his sweatpants. He did it again, a bit harder, while he bit her neck. She started grinding her ass against him, still in the spoon position, driving him crazy with each one of her hip movements. He gently put his hand on her hip, stopping her. 

Hold on, babygirl, he chuckled. You’re driving me crazy here. Let’s focus on you for a bit, alright ? 

It was true : he wanted to focus his attention on her. She chuckled softly and grabbed his hand again. They interlaced their fingers. 

Can you… touch me ? She whispered. 

Anything you want, honey, he replied with a smile. 

He gently cupped her sex, feeling how wet she was. His palm was against her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance. 

Is this what you want, baby ? He asked in a husky voice. 

Yes, she moaned. Please, Marshall. 

He pressed his hand harder and inserted two fingers in her as she let out a gasp. She was squirming against him, rocking her hips in sync as he was moving his wrist. At first, his movements were slow. He wasn’t in a rush anyway. Plus, the last thing he wanted was to trigger her or hurt her. 

Are you alright ? He asked carefully. 

Yes, she moaned. It’s good. 

He buried his face in her neck as he went a bit faster. Her moans became a lot deeper and he could tell she was about to come. He accelerated the movements of his head and she let out a small cry as he felt her walls clench on his fingers. Her whole body seemed to contract before relaxing altogether. 

Oh God, she whispered. 

Did you like it, honey ? He asked with a smile - already knowing the answer. 

Yes, she softly giggled before burying her face in the pillow. 

He gently turned her so that she could face him, so that he could see her beautiful face. She looked relaxed and happy, though still hazy.  

You’re so beautiful, he said. I want to kiss you. May I ? 

Instead of replying, she kissed him passionately. He wrapped his arms around her as their tongues found each other. It was a deep, ardent kiss. Their legs were tangled together, as their arms were clutching at each other’s body. 

I think… I want you, she whispered shyly. 

Are you sure baby ? He asked softly. You don’t have to. 

I’m sure, she whispered. Just… be gentle ? 

Of course, love, he said. How do you want it ? 

Spoon ? She asked with a little smile. 

He chuckled. She seemed to enjoy this position. It wasn’t particularly his favorite, but he was happy to indulge. There was something about it that was soft and intimate, which he had to admit was enjoyable. He removed his sweatpants and boxers and they resumed the spooning position. He slowly positioned himself at her entrance and he felt her tense up. 

Are you sure, honey ? I swear we don’t have to…

Yes, she said hoarsely. I want you. And I trust you. 

He kissed her temple and entered her. She let out a groan and he froze for a second. However, she relaxed and he took it as his cue to start moving. He was thrusting slowly while peppering her face with soft kisses, holding her in his arms. He started to gently explore her body with his hands, making sure she was ok with every move. He teased her nipples with one hand and stroked her clit with the other. 

Faster, she begged. I’m… so close… 

He happily obliged and started to thrust faster, going deeper as well. He felt her clench around him again, slightly jerking as they both reached climax. He buried his face in her neck while they were both panting, gasping for air. He grabbed her hand and held her close to his body. 

Are you alright ? He asked after a few minutes. 

Yes, she said softly. Are you ? 

Absolutely, he said. 

She turned to face him. She had such a pretty face and reaching orgasm definitely gave her a nice glow. He chuckled as he cupped her face with his hand. 

God, I’m so in love with you, he said.

He didn’t even think twice before saying it. It felt natural to him. Before he could catch himself, he saw the soft smile of Y/N turn into an expression of shock.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #recovery fanfiction

[ironstrange1991]

The Point Of No Return (Part I)

A fanfic slightly inspired by the play The Phantom of the Opera

+18 Smut (a lot) / Angst / Horror (just a bit)

Pairing: Sinister!Strange x Fem!Reader  /  Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader 

Synopsis:  When a strange and dark man starts to haunt the reader's dreams  her life is turned upside down and she discovers in the hard way that if you can't wake up from the nightmare maybe you're not asleep at all.

Word Count: 3,700k

Warnings: Dark themes! Psychological manipulation, Dubious consent, Mentions of abuse of medications and alcohol, Mentions of injuries and blood, Deception, Stockholm syndrome(?), Sexual content (P in V, masturbation with both receiving, oral sex with both receiving, fingering, physical control, domination, bondage.) 

Writers note: This will be a long fanfic divided in chapters. You will find references to lyrics, scenes and dialogues from the play The Phantom of the Opera as long as others movies and TV series throughout the story including possible spoilers from this play/movies/series.

As usual I would like to remind you that english is not my first language so there will probably have some grammatical mistakes here and there but I hope it doesnt spoil your experience.

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

“The trap is set and awaits for its prey.

I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind you already succumbed to me, dropped all defences, completely succumbed to me. Now your are here with me, no second thoughts, you’ve decided.”

His voice was like a melody playing in your head nonstop. Those words that loved you, scared you, tortured you in dreams.

The first time you saw him your whole body shivered, your heart raced in your chest and your mind told you to run away, but your body remained standing there at his mercy, at the mercy of his scarred hands and when he touched your face you knew somehow you would be his.

You were distracted again, totally lost in your own mind, staring blindly in front of you as your students screamed, laughed, argued among themselves.

“[Y/N], did you hear what I said?”

You faced Anne, your coworker and the closest you had to a friend, she was standing in front of you.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“The bell rang five minutes ago. The kids are waiting.”

You nodded “Oh sure, I'm sorry. I didn’t hear it.”

You got up. “You can go now kids. Have a nice weekend everyone.”

The kids ran to pack their things and ran out the door bumping into each other.

"Careful, go slow" Anne shouted at them.

You sighed, flopping down on the chair.

Anne pulled the chair sitting in front of you. “May I ask what's going on with you? You've been acting weird for a long time, but it's gotten worse in the last few weeks. You are distracted, barely eating. I can see by your dark circles under your eyes that you haven't been sleeping as well.”

You ran your hand over your face shaking your head.  “I'm just a little tired, that's all.”

Anne didn't seem to buy it, but you didn't bother trying to convince her. Instead, you got up and started putting the materials from your desk in the closet.

“All right, if you don't want to tell me, don't tell me.”  She sighed and then giggled taking something out of her bag.  “I was almost forgeting, I saw this article in the newspaper today talking about your crush and I couldn't help but stole the page for you.”

You closed the closet barely realizing what she was talking about. There was a kind of numbness around you, everything seemed meaningless, it was as if none of it was real and you didn't know how to explain that feeling so you didn't even tried.

Anne reached out, waving the torn page of the newspaper in front of you, handing it to you. You opened the folded paper and saw a picture of Doctor Stephen Strange with the headline: Superhero saves the day by fighting monsters on the streets of NY.

You looked at the photo longer than you should, then you folded the paper and stuffed it inside your bag. “I need to go, we'll talk later.”

Anne widened her eyes stopping in front of you. “Not at all. You're not even going to comment on the matter? You love talking about this guy! You see, I'm saying there's something wrong with you.”

You sighed. “I'm tired, Anne. Sorry if I'm not excited to talk about my platonic crush today, I just want to go home, shower, and sleep.”

She nodded. “All right girl, but don't forget to call me to let me know you are okay. I'm worried about you. Are you sure you're not sick?”

You nodded digging through your bag until you found your car keys. “I'll call you later.”

She nodded and you walked past her out of the room and walking quickly through the silent, empty hallways.

As you arrived at your tiny apartment, you dropped off your shoes and placed your keys and bag on the counter before stepping onto the fluffy rug that seemed to caress your aching feet from standing all day.

You were hungry, but looking at the empty fridge, you sighed and closed it again. After all what did you expect? Food wouldn't materialize in the fridge if you didn't bother going to the supermarket.

Frustrated, you quickly made yourself a cup of coffee and took two pills to help you stay awake. Your record was now 42 hours without sleeping and you were hoping to pave the way to beat that record as there was no way you were going to allow yourself to sleep again anytime soon.

You finished your coffee when you heard your cell phone vibrating inside your bag. You went to the counter and rummaged through the things inside until you find the phone. The piece of newspaper Anne gave you crumpled under your hands. You took it along with your cell phone and threw yourself on the couch.

The message was Anne’s, of course, besides her the only people who texted were from work – and they wouldn’t text you on a Friday night, the owner of the apartment when you were late on rent and telemarketing.

Anne's message read: I'm meeting some friends from college tomorrow night. Come with us, please. You need to meet new people.

You sighed without bothering to answer. If your plan worked out, you'd be even more dizzed the next day, and no way you'd risk leaving anywhere.

You stared at the piece of newspaper and unfolded it looking at the picture of Doctor Strange: he was standing on top of the hood of a taxi looking at something you thought was probably the monster. Some time ago you would have been melting looking at that photo, maybe even cut it out and pasted it together with the many others you shamefully keep in a notebook hidden in your closet as if you were still sixteen.

Today, on the other hand, looking at a picture or even hearing the name of Doctor Strange gave you shivers down your spine and an immense discomfort in your chest as if someone had punched your stomach and the air was drained from your lungs.

It had been like this for months now. The dreams hadn’t stopped.

Sighing, you stood up, tore the newspaper into several pieces and threw it in the trash. You walked to your room, entering the small bathroom and filled the tub with hot water to try to relax your muscles that were tense and sore.

As usual, you turned the cd player to full volume to prevent you from falling asleep while showering and allowed yourself to get into the tub. Running up that hill started to play. You already liked the song, but you'd been obsessed with it since watching the episode of the last season of Stranger Things and in a way you couldn't help but draw a parallel between your daily struggle with depression and the character Max's struggle to escape the demon Vecna.

You had repeated this little ritual of bathing and loud music many times with success, so it was hard to say what went wrong this time, but the moment you opened your eyes and the water was overflowing from the tub, somber classical music was playing coming from some distant room and a ghostly blue light filled the space, you knew you were dreaming and your heart raced, your skin shivering with dread.

You turned off the faucet and slowly stepped out of the tub, wrapping yourself in your robe as you shivered. When you came out of the bathroom, it wasn't your room your saw anymore, it was the same room you always saw: a large room, full of bookshelves, carpet and dark, heavy curtains, but they were torn, moth-eaten and smelled of dust. The entire room looked destroyed and the musty and damp smell made it look like no one had lived there for many years.

These were all impressions you had the first time you saw the place, now you were used to it, you would always end up there when you failed to stay awake and ended up falling asleep. It was more common than you'd like it to be, but it was still terrifying as it was the first time.

You walked across the room feeling your heart pounding in your chest. If it was like every other time, and it was always the same every time you dreamed, soon you wouldn't be alone in that room anymore and then the nightmare would begin.

In dreams he came every other night and this one wouldn’t be different.

You stood by the window watching the stormy sky outside, always as if the world were disintegrating in a silent hurricane that took with it every trace of life from that godforsaken place.

And there he was inside your mind.

“You're here finally. I missed you. Isn't it enough to make me suffer waiting for you when all I want is to please you?”

You closed your eyes listening to that voice that haunted you even when you were awake. That deep, terribly beautiful voice that talked to you and called your name.

You felt him behind you. His body so close you could feel its heat and his hot breath on the back of your neck.

“You look so tired, so frail. Why deprive yourself of your sleep? Am I really that scary that you don't want to come back to me?”

Usually you tried to be silent. You were well acquainted with the pattern of his sickned behavior. First he would shower you with tender words, swearing he loved you more than anyone else, but when he didn't get the answer he wanted he would speak to you in a cold, threatening voice.

He ran a hand around your neck and held on tightly.  “I'm here. Why you reject me? What do I need to do to make you love me like you love him?”

Then he'd go for what he really wanted from you and if you didn't fight it, maybe he'd let you wake up. He was the master of your dreams now.

“Well then, I'll have you in a way or another.”

He took you by the arm and threw you on the bed. You stared at him trying to hold back from crying. It was worse when you cried.

He made a gesture with his hands and a rope of purple magic tied your hands and feet to the bed. This was new and he smirked at the surprise in your eyes.

He snapped his fingers and your clothes disappeared leaving you completely naked and open for him to do as he pleased.

“Look at you, so beautiful, completely open to me. I know you like it. You can pretend all you want, but I know how much you love it when I'm inside you.” He cooed  “Is that why you're so afraid to come here? Because deep down you know you like the things I do to you?”

You struggled against the bonds, a tear falling from your eyes.

He brought his hand up to his erection, rubbing over his clothes, unable to control the desire he felt for you and as much as you hated to admit it, your own body betrayed you, and he could smell your arousal as you got shamefully wet by only listening to his voice. That damn devilish baritone voice.

He crawled into bed coming closer to you, his face so close to yours you could feel the heat of his breath. Your body was shaking, tears streaming down your face.

“You look so beautiful when you cry”  He muttered smiling mischievously. He kissed your lips quickly and you tried to pull away, but he cupped your chin and licked the tears that were streaming down your cheek.

You closed your eyes waiting for that nightmare to end.

 “It's not real, it's not real” You muttered to yourself. “It's just a dream, it can’t hurt me.”

You were so focused on trying to wake up that you didn't notice when he pulled away, going down on you, only noticing when you felt his tongue licking your slit. Your entire body trembled at that touch and a kind of whining moan escaped your lips involuntarily.

You heard his laugh vibrating between your legs, but you didn't allow yourself to open your eyes.

“You are not real. You can’t be real”

He licked again, the same slow, precise movement collecting your dripping fluids and stopping at your clit, giving it special attention, licking and sucking, circleling his tongue around your bud of nerves and before you could stop, your hips started moving towards his mouth. It was as if your body had a life of its own, you couldn't contain the wave of lust that washed over you every time he took you in dreams like this.

He used his fingers to open the folds of your clit and licked there, curving his tongue over it, playing with your most sensitive spot and you moaned loud and clear, a moan of pleasure that filled you with shame.

“Oh it's delicious, isn't it? You can't resist, can you?”

He smirked “Why you chose to fight me when you like the feeling? Look how your body responds to my touch.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curving them perfectly to hit the precise point that brought you to the brink of an orgasm.

You panted. Your fists clenched so tightly that your nails dug into your skin, drawing blood. You bit your bottom lip hard trying to stop the moans and kept your eyes closed.

He withdrew his fingers and slid them back into you, increasing the pace as he fucked you with his rough scarred fingers.

“Open your eyes, my love, look at me.”

His voice seemed to purr at you. Like a demon trying to seduce you for his own purposes. Manipulating you at his will.

“Open your eyes. Don’t fight me. You know you want this. You know you want me, your body doesn't lie.”

You could no longer contain the moans that left your lips, nor could you fight your hips that curved forward to get the most of the pleasure that his fingers gave you. It was useless, all that was useless. You always surrendered to him in the end. Every time and that's why those nightmares were so terrible. Because you felt helpless at his mercy.

He brought his lips back to your clit, sucking and licking, his fingers penetrating you in suck an intense pace, your breathing getting difficult and irregular as you felt the familiar shaking at the bottom of your belly.

You opened your eyes and the sight of him between your legs licking you while maintaining eye contact was devilishly arousing and you were moaning loudly and your moans were pornographic now, your hips moving in circles, your hands fighting the shackles of magic, but this time you didn't want to run away. He had won.

He continued working his tongue nimbly on your clit, his fingers fucking you at an increasingly rapid pace. That shaking was getting stronger and stronger and you knew that if he continued you would cum shamefully in his mouth.

“Please, I beg you… stop!”

He didn't listen to you. Why would he?  Instead he lifted his free hand and made a subtle gesture with his fingers releasing one of your hands and automatically your hand grabbed his hair, pressing it down, trying to increase the friction between you and his mouth.

He chuckled satisfied, curling his fingers inside you so deftly you couldn't help it.

Your body writhed against the bonds, a loud scream escaping your lips as you gave yourself to your high. Always so intense, so devastating, always leaving you completely drained. As you relaxed, your face sank into the pillows trying to hide how satisfying it was.

He loosened the rest of the bonds looking at you smirking devilishly.

“Your lips ask me to stop, but your body tells me otherwise, my love. Why you fight something that gives you so much pleasure?”

You sighed still dazzed from your orgasm.

“Because... because it feels wrong.”

“How can it be wrong when it feels so good?” He cooed.

You did not answer. Tears coming back to your eyes now.

“Please let me wake up.”

He shook his head, taking your hand and directing it to his throbbing cock.

“You'll be good and you'll repay the pleasure I gave you, won't you?”

You nodded between your sobs as tears fell down your face.

“I know you will” He muttered mischievously unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. He approached you kneeling by your head, his cock hanging frighteningly erect just inches away from your face.

He caressed your cheeks. His hands went up to your head, taking all your hair and pulling it into a ponytail and directing you until his cock touched your face.

"Open your mouth for me"  He demanded.

You obeyed and put it in your mouth as best as you could. He was big and thick and your mouth barely held his size, but he insisted on pushing, never giving up control.

“Your mouth is so deliciously warm, my love.” He grunted.

You choked a few times, tears streaming down your face, saliva dripping from your mouth as you tried to please him as best you could.

He kept his hips still, moving your head to a pace that satisfied him and it took what felt like an absurd amount of time before you felt him throbbing, his breathing getting more labored, his pace getting more erratic and you knew he was near.

“Look at me while you swallow my cock”  He demanded and you did as you were told. “I'm going to cum in your mouth and you better not waste a drop. Are you listening to me?”

You nodded in total obedience as he tugged hard on your hair.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.”

He kept fucking your mouth until his moans turned into loud, obscene growls and he started to spill into your mouth. A hot load down your throat.

“That's right, swallow it all. Excellent. Good girl.” His compliments was obsessive “You did so well for me, I know you like to please me, you like to be mine, don’t you?”

Those compliments were possessive and scary, but a part of you knew he was right, a part of you enjoyed having sex with him every time, even if it scared you.

He withdrew from your mouth and threw himself on the pillows beside you and pulled you into his chest.

“You are feeling it, don’t you? This sweet intoxication? You love me as much I love you. I know you do.”

You were too physically and mentally exhausted to fight him, so you gave in, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes, wishing with all your might that you could wake up.

“I'll allow you to come back now, but remember, I will always come back for you.”

His voice grew farther and farther dissipating in the nothingness.

When you opened your eyes you were lying naked on your bed. The loud music and the strange noise coming from the bathroom made you startle and you got up running in time to see your bathroom completely flooded by the water that overflowed from the bathtub. You turned off the radio and turned off the faucet totally dazzed and went back to the room sitting on the bed again. The clock on the bedside table showed that was past 10 pm. You'd slept for nearly four hours, but you were now fully alert, your heart pounding probably from the coffee and pills.

It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense anymore. It had been just over 12 hours since you had slept, it shouldn't have happened so quickly again, especially if you thought that your body was feeling all the effects of the medication you took to keep yourself awake.

When those dreams started you were amused, even amused at the idea of ​​dreaming about Stephen Strange because it felt natural since you were obsessed with the guy, but soon the dreams got weirder and darker and you started to get scared. Scared of him.

You covered yourself with your robe and went down to the living room and by doing it you couldn't help but notice the discomfort between your legs, an uncomfortable dampness that proved those dreams were getting more and more intense. As much as it embarrassed you, you couldn't help but feel aroused by the memories.

You grabbed your cell phone and flopped down on the couch, your legs dangling lazily as you performed your own embarrassing post-dreaming ritual: Opened your photo gallery, opened the photo album you've saved from the internet, and swipe each one as your fingers dove between your legs and you were so wet, your clit as sensitive as if you'd cum a few minutes ago, but it was a just a dream, right? It couldn't affect reality, could it? You didn’t know what was real anymore.

You circled your clit gently with your fingers imagining his scarred fingers while looking at the pictures. Your fingers sliding inside you as you imagined he was the one fingering you.

Soon you were moaning uncontrollably and it didn't take long for you to cum with your eyes closed now as you kept the image of him in your mind.

Him, always him... Doctor Strange.

In some other godforsaken universe, Doctor Strange wandered through empty corridors keeping the sweet memories of you in mind.

In his head a melody played over and over from some long-forgotten past, he hummed those lyrics longing to have you again in his arms where you belonged.

Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you.

Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

in this darkness that you know

You cannot fight…

MASTERLIST

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

Part 2 already posted. You can read it HERE

#doctor strange #doctor strange fanfic #sinister strange #sinister strange x reader #doctor strange smut #sinister strange smut #doctor strange x reader #in another universe fanfic #marvel fanfic #smut fanfic #benedict cumberbatch fanfic #benedict cumberbatch #the phantom of the opera

[tobyisave]

the plot of "ethanol"

aka that Adamandi fanfiction I never finished last year (OTL) and companion to this drawing (x)! There were only a few pages (that I will never release) so instead here's what was going to happen, according to my old notes doc... it's mostly just Vincent angst I'm not gonna lie. I kinda stopped because I realized there was no plot at all and that's not how stories work

Also: I did not write adamandi. And it's been a *second* since I was Vincent. And cannot stress enough that even the finished parts of this are wildly unfinished. So make of this what you will kdlfdsjf

(tw for body horror, medical horror, suicide, self harm, others harm, vomit, you know the drill it's Adamandi)

CH1: "I love you, too"

Vincent wakes up in Hancock Infirmary, the medical center on Ardess campus. (It's incredibly sketchy that he's not in the local hospital instead -- especially since the Infirmary has been openly racist to him and Quincy before -- but evidently this is the best way to keep things under wraps.)

He has a traumatic brain injury (from fighting Beatrix), is probably a little drugged, and starts freaking out because he's in pain and everything looks super flat and fake...

But he sees his Phaethon award letter sitting on the nightstand and feels so relieved that he lets himself fall back asleep.

Later the doctor tells him "what happened" including a reference to Vincent’s suicide attempt and "stabbing his own eye" to which he's like my WHAT. He finally realizes he can only see out of one eye - he pokes his fingers into the "soft, swollen folds of meat" on his face (thanks past toby) and finds that the eye is completely gone.

Doc is like you might have amnesia? You also have a TBI. Also fill out this form to make sure you wont kill urself when we release you

Specifically, the form is like “How often in the past two weeks have you: Had trouble sleeping…. Had thoughts that you are a failure….. Wanted to hurt yourself….. Attempted suicide….” And because he only ticks the last one the final score is "1" and the doctor's like okay free to go! (this is totally anachronistic but i think its funny so it stays)

Doctor makes him call someone to help him get home.

For some reason he doesn’t want to call Quincy (he thinks bc he hurt Quincy really bad). He thinks over who else he could call – oh yes, that guy I’ve been hanging out with lately, Ambrose! Wait fuck…. For the first time he realizes that Ambrose is not here.

After phoning Quincy to pick him up (Q cries on the phone, V feels moved to but genuinely doesn't have the energy to cry or even say much - and they say I love you to each other, except its Weird and Uncomfortable this time), Vincent roots around in the medical waste bin and pockets his enucleated eye, which he's alarmed to find is bloody and kind of smashed to a pulp.

CH2: pretty peppermint green

(title from "asthma" by b/ulldog eyes)

Quincy shows up (btw they're they/them in this because I can) and Vincent remembers pretty much everything. They share a reluctant kiss --- after which Vincent is content to slip into the fantasy that things are back to normal --- and walk back to the dorm. It's lightly misting outside. On the way there, Vincent stops and kneels to vomit from his intense headache and nausea. Quincy tries to hold them/help them up after and it makes Vincent's heart race.

In Quincy's room, they lie in bed. Vincent is often the big spoon (lol) but he feels the eye in his front pocket squish against Quincy's back, so they switch for undisclosed reasons. Quincy keeps saying they're so glad Vincent is back and they love him so much. That strikes a terrible weird chord with Vincent, and he's just lying there and he can't see Quincy's face and he's practically pressed between them and the wall and he can't stop feeling like there's another guy in the room watching them both, and he's not sure if the knowledge that there isn't is comforting or scary, and he starts freaking out until he has to leave the room.

(Why that strikes a weird chord: Quincy kept dissing him until now, and now is lovebombing him? Is that because Vincent finally earned their respect academically or because Quincy is guilty or what? He can usually tell what Q's thinking but it's very opaque to him right now - either because of the TBI or because their history is so extreme. And what usually makes him feel calm and well - ie Quincy - is not working anymore).

Vincent goes downstairs and sleeps on the basement couch. He unlocks this memory -- or is it just an image he constructed to fill the gap? -- of Quincy holding him, the weapon still in their hands, those hands still bloody, their face twisted in a horrific expression he can't even describe.

CH3: 20 grams

(title - from "duck or ape" by roar - but references an old paper that claimed to experimentally calculate the weight of a soul by weighing a person before and after death - they were purportedly 20 grams lighter.)

In the morning, Vincent goes to his own dorm. His chair and desk and bedframe were all burned in the pyre, plus most of his paper and books, so there's just big square sun-stains everywhere and a lot of empty space.

He goes to his bottom shelf, where there's a few empty jars & cans & stolen lab glassware, and puts his old eye in an open beaker. There's a big jug of ethanol under his bed and he pours some in to preserve it. (This has been making the room smell awful by the way). The beaker goes on the shelf next to an array of other trophies (aka student organs) which he'd left as a sort of last display of genius that the world could find after he killed himself.

He goes to the mirror and is unnerved to realize that he's been fully bathed and his hair has been brushed out. He checks all the bruises on his body and tries to recount where he got each one - most are from previous murders and some are from the pyre. Even though he literally just got out of the hospital where he lost an eye, he looks a lot better than in the past few weeks just because he finally got some fucking sleep and idk they probably had him on an IV or something

After that he looks at his eye again with morbid fascination --- he's seen this exact wound on corpses before, but never seen it healing.

He considers taking out his surgery kit and trying to fix the eye. There's this question of if he could repair his damaged eye and see through it again, would he be able to see Quincy the same as he used to? His right eye never saw Quincy betray him. He wonders if Quincy burned themself again after last night - the first time he remembers that knowledge - and tears come even though he's still just standing there absently.

Anyway when he goes back to the shelf to look at his old eye, he frowns at how fucked up it is, and pulls down the bottle next to it instead. In the bottle are two blue eyes. He pulls one out in front of the mirror and presses it into his socket, which is rapidly filling with fluid; it overflows out of the socket as he pushes the eye in. This is agonizing because he's putting an eye covered in ethanol into an open wound.

He stands there looking at himself, still in his jacket, with one finger up to hold the eye in place, for like 10 straight minutes. He recounts all the unbelievable things he's done this year, the way people looked at him a bit differently as he started to get his act together. The way they looked each time he wound up the killing blow. Ambrose's eye still looks completely out of place on Vincent's face.

Everything else that happens!

Quincy & Beatrix

Beatrix was also going to be at the hospital for back up in CH2 apparently. so pretend that happened

Quincy finds out about the preserved eye (idk how lol) and confesses to Beatrix that it creeps them the fuck out. Beatrix assumes it's because it represents Quincy's guilt and tries to reassure them. That makes Quincy feel worse because to be honest they just thought it was disgusting and scary to see their lover's disembodied eye looking back at them from the bottom of a beaker.

Graduation

The three of them are planning on going together and walking through the Ardess Randolphitz graduation gate etc etc. Except all of them are kind of having a trauma reaction to the idea of going to graduation. Less so Quincy, because they missed the pyre graduation speech, but yeah. Nobody likes that.

Vincent thinks about skipping graduation but then checks his mailbox and realizes he failed two of his classes this semester. AN: In my notes it said this: the letter says he has to take an extra course to graduate - he literally cant afford that (used to have a scholarship but obviously broke the contract) so he can't graduate. His family is in China and he cant stomach the thought of explaining everything to them.

(Right before the Pyre scene he mailed a copy of the newspaper accusing him of murder to his family because he wanted his mom to see what he did (/pos??). Then he has this sudden realization that his mom has no idea who Vincent Aurelius Lin is. Not really that relevant to this fic, but I actually consider this canon to the show because I sat backstage and did it every night with the newspaper prop lmao)

Anyway I don't think the graduation logic checks out anymore, I mean he won the Phaethon so he kind of has to graduate lol. Oh well.

Quincy & Vincent

Honestly... I didn't write a lot about what happens with them because one of the central concepts of the fic is that they break up! And unfortunately I seem to have stopped working on this around the time that Quincy reentered the story, so I have no idea what that actual arc was going to look like. Upon revisiting this story though, it's pretty obvious I was just using everyone else as a sounding board for Vincent angst anyway... so that kind of sucks lol

Room situation

Vincent... doesn't have a bed... so he sleeps in the basement of Stutton (?) again. Unlike the months leading up to the pyre where he was completely sleepless (aka restless and unable to stop mentally planning each of his murder schemes and the things he would say about what inspired them after it all came out), he falls asleep really easily now (...because of the TBI). Beatrix encounters him there and heres a quote from my google doc:

B: oh my god. don't tell me you lost your keys again 

V: no. i just… dont have anywhere to go

B: … do you want my room key? like ill have to kick you out in the morning but me and portia are pulling an all nighter right now 

V: thats not what i meant. (licks lips) beatrix im not graduating

(AN: damn.... where CAN he run........)

B brings V to news room where portia and her are working, planning to use portia as the emotional support dog. this works on portia's end but vincent is not very reactive.

Beatrix is renting a house for the summer and invites Lin to sleep on her couch (upon learning that he planned to squat or get back with Quincy to survive)

Summer: Bea's house

P: Bea, he's a murderer! You're going to let him live in your house? Alone?!

B: Harper, just.... look at him

*The most hollow dead eyed broken toy of a Vincent you've ever seen*

^^^^ this is like the establishing quote of the fic, just vincent looking like that is the whole concept actually. Obviously thats also what I tried to capture with the drawing too

While shes at work he gets very understimulated and he wants to Plot Evilly and hes really really frustrated that he cant (because that project is over and he can't focus)

he used to journal/stalk every day but "lately... i cant even remember whats been happening lately." he has headaches constantly and hasnt written in weeks 

he starts chain smoking on her couch (AN: interesting choice sldjfsdkfjdsfls)

she gets back and is upset about this (the smell and he used like all of her cigs)

→ a) he realizes he cant really feel remorse over this (only intellectually he understands it and goes outside)

-> b) he's confused to see her refuse a cig from him. okay bea thats new what are you pulling here

in her office, bea (feeling like she has adopted a stray dog) chews gum while reading a terrified letter from quincy who is about to move 

(AN maybe anachronistic that bea would try to quit smoking at this time?? im not sure.)

(Also - not sure if this ever came up explicitly, but in our production, Beatrix is the one who first offered Vincent the occasional smoke back in the day, and instead of ever buying any he mostly grubbed them off her (which you can maybe see at the beginning of little more in love). During the course of canon events he gets more addicted - and if i remember correctly, he also started going through withdrawal at some point, but I dont remember why he quit - I think because he stopped seeing Bea around so he kind of just stopped?? - if anything I guess it's symbolic of Bea kind of setting him up to murder and then disappearing from his life for months. The cigarettes weren't actually in the original script at all.)

vincent paces then goes to the drugstore

while hes there he uses the restroom to stare into his eye hole yada yada

(prior to going to restroom hes dubious about entering mens but its single stall anyway)

buys like a shit ton of cigarettes and pain medicine (which was probably like coke back then idk) and also candy

(cigs are for beatrix because he just wants to be loved…)

Phaethon did not give him any money at all by the way. Maybe this is the part where he should go huh I need a job even if I can't be a doctor

IDK where to put this but also - at some point Vincent finds a horrifying drawing of Quincy killing him, and Bea is like you obviously drew that look at it it's in your style. and he can't remember drawing it but not that he looks around he sees he's actually been drawing little pieces of it everywhere

Beatrix's apology

*giant overwrought Beatrix speech here*

V: (trying to be normal about it) i uh i did try to kill you

B: (also playing cool) yeah sure, so did my dad, join the club 

V: sorry?

B: the point is, lin, you were having an episode, and instead of helping you see that i pretty much handed you a bat, spun you around a couple times, and sent you on your merry way 

(shaky breath, beat- V feels weird about being described so passively)

Anecdote I wrote last year that I genuinely don't understand anymore OTL

Vincent likes to read possibly?

B: you can read?!

V: (swallows a lump… then sarcastically) oh yeah quincy finally taught me how

(^^^ realize they always bitch at each other by default - he wonders if she would be nicer if he was nicer but probably not)

^^^^^ the book sucks anyway shes like ok go to the bookstore CUE QUINCY

(“ok read your own fucking book” “i can’t” “why” “i burned them”)

AN: like QUINCY WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT jdslkfjdsf who is that what's happening what's going ON

...I think it's Beatrix actually? idk man idk

but OMG im suddenly obsessed with the idea that this is all a bunch of absolutely insane buildup to an exes-to-lovers vincent coffee shop / quincy bookstore au dlskfjdslkfjdslkjfsjfjdsklfsdf

BONUS NOTES

V’s lack of empathy - i think he cant understand other peoples feelings very well? He definitely at the least has to imagine them through incidents in his own life to picture how they feel 

People pleasing … & possibly its conflict with the above 

Bring back suave vincent :(  (AN: I failed)

Masculinity problems…? 

Realization that all of his rapports (ie with ambrose and beatrix) are facetious and aggressive. And also baggage with quincy accidentally dissing him all the time. Who will be nice to him :( 

Maybe this: 

V: "i think i might be autistic"

B: "i dont think youre autistic i think youre a sociopath"

V: "i think i might be both"

^^^^ except thats also pretty anachronistic and kind of silly but i do what i want

ambrose ghost was a representation of his hyperfixation on murder (AN: absolutely insane take. what the fuck)

he probably gets lost in drawing now if he can stomach doing anything

accidental psychiatrist beatrix bc shes really good at cracking people open 

themes:

breakup 

realization that quincy didnt value him while he was innocent which fucked the relationship but V has trouble justifying it bc now he cant value himself 

difficulty feeling remorse for what he did 

→ realize you arent accountable for how you feel just for what you do 

can you love someone without empathy? (yes)

(stems from asking if q was ever in danger of murder -- obviously not!)

realization that v is actually good at something (art) 

Respectability politics - beatrix is trying to make girls/latinas look good. vincent is still in the headspace that hes inferior but starts to think about how frosh vinc would have felt about him now (AN i dont know what i meant by this ldjsf)

becoming ambrose was in a way his idea of proving himself in the world. being gnc and failing his classes was just bc he couldnt "do better" 

RECURRING: pulls open his eyelids and tries to see into his brain through the hole 

addiction (AN: thats it thats all i said its the word "addiction" sljdkfdslkf. I can only assume because for a while i had an interpretation of vincent as becoming an adrenaline junkie after his first murder - plus then bea got him addicted to cigs and murder)

other char breakthroughs 

Bea - yo vincent actually did some fucked up shit

Quincy - living with yourself. realizing you can never reconcile with some people. 

Portia - hold on… Bea actually did some fucked up shit...

(sorry this is MASSIVE i thought it would be like 7 bullets)

AND ON THAT NOTE.... Yeah that's what the fic was going to be about. Hope that was fun??? And shoutout to @ceaslesswatcherwhatistboyswag for asking about the abandoned fic and inadvertently prompting this whole post :P

Also. by god please do not take any of this as canon or word of god (except perhaps the newspaper thing...) i beg of you... these are just the post-show ramblings of a man newly deprived of the ability to spend 5 hours a week pretending to be a fruity little murderer. very fun diving back into that time to compile this though 🫀

#adamandi #adamandi musical #vincent aurelius lin #vincent lin #beatrix valeria campbell #beatrix campbell #quincy cynthius martin #quincy martin #ambrose isnt important enough to be tagged sorry #quincy is more of a quincy shaped hole in vincent than a guy in this too #my posts #writing

[thesimulationswarm]

Balsam, Chapter 5: Mountain Chickadee

This is a story about trauma. What trauma does to a person, and what trauma does to a community. And how, in the midst of it, people find their way to joy, delight— even love.

Pairing: Joel Miller x original female character Summary: After the events of tlou, Joel and Ellie try to establish a “normal life” in Jackson, but neither of them are any good at normal. A town doctor tries to care for residents who have experienced unspeakable trauma, and struggles to overcome her own past at the same time. Joel finds himself drawn to her, as their lives become increasingly intertwined. Meanwhile, outside Jackson, troubling things are happening… Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Wordcount: 5.5k Warnings: some problematic language around race/ethnicity that would be expected from characters whose understanding of social justice stopped in 2003, condomless PIV sex, v brief mention of infertility, angst, trauma/PTSD symptoms, painful adolescent social dynamics, LGBTQ issues, the Miller clan trying to figure out how to be a family, Joel struggling with getting old

Series Masterlist

It was 6 AM and Ellie was sitting in the dark, looking out the front windows, as Joel’s figure disappeared down the street. The faintest light was coloring the sky to the east and starting to extinguish the smaller stars. She’d been curled up there for a long time, feeling the chill radiate through the pane of glass, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light. There were a surprising amount of animals out there as the dawn started to break— rabbits, squirrels, little birds. She saw how they stilled suddenly when Joel walked by.

She could imagine how the little animals felt, holding themselves like statues, tiny hearts twitching furiously against their ribs. Not daring to breathe until the threat disappeared around the bend in the road.

She hadn’t gone downstairs to say goodbye, and she wasn’t even sure why. Maybe just that she didn’t want him to know she was awake still, didn’t want him to worry. He’d stuck his head in around midnight and told her to stop reading and go to sleep. He’d fallen asleep on the couch for a while after dinner, and his hair had been a wild, off-kilter mess. Standing there like that, bleary-eyed, in a ratty pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, made him look different— older, more…domestic. Like a hapless dad from a cheesy old movie.

He’d pointed at the creased paperback she was holding. Stephen King’s It, borrowed from the eccentric little Jackson Library.

“Sure you should be reading that before bed?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” She gave him a hard look.

“’S just— I’ve never read it, but it’s pretty scary, ain’t it? And you’ve been havin’ trouble sleeping…”

Ellie raised her eyebrows and flipped to the copyright page. “It’s from 1986. It’s about an evil clown. Not exactly the kind of thing that haunts people’s dreams these days.” It was true— the book felt quaint, almost cozy. Hard to imagine what it would be like to live in a small town in Maine and run around with a band of misfit kids. The guy who wrote it thought he was pointing out how everything had a dark underbelly, but a dark underbelly sounded pretty fucking good to her. She was used to towns that were just plain dark.

But Joel looked skeptical. She could see the pinched anxiousness in his eyes, and it made her squirm. She didn’t want him to feel guilty. She didn’t want him to think she was sick or fucked up or weak, and she didn’t want him to pity her.

She’d sighed, tossed the book aside, and turned off her lamp. Curled on her bed, turning her back to Joel.

But she didn’t sleep. Not because of It, but because she was sick of nightmares. She’d had nightmares her whole life, but over the past year or so they’d only gotten worse. There were just more and more things to have nightmares about. Recently, it was like some kind of switch had been flipped in her head, and the only dreams she was allowed to have were nightmares. She felt weird and sad about Brandy and Chuy, but that wasn’t it, really. Maybe that had just been enough to tip her over the edge.

She worked so fucking hard not to think about her bad memories. Not to talk about her bad memories or to acknowledge them in any way. But as soon as her higher brain shut off, they were set free, and she had nowhere to hide. Nothing she could do except stay up as much as possible, until her body ached and her eyes felt gritty and raw. Until, eventually, the dark tide of unconsciousness overpowered her. And hopefully by then she would be too exhausted to even dream.

The morning was pleasantly quiet, especially compared to Nina’s last patrol with Isaac. Joel had barely spoken a word to her as they packed their gear and tacked up the horses, but she was keenly aware of his presence. She watched him in her peripheral vision, appreciating how, despite the substantial shape of him, he moved with a sort of grace.

The sun was just rising above the hills when they road out of the gates, the horses huffing clouds of steam in the cold air. Joel was reserved but polite, following her lead when they hit territory that was unfamiliar to him. As they went deeper into the mountains and further from Jackson, she felt a tension melting away that she’d only been partially cognizant of.

She needed Jackson. The life she had now would not be possible anywhere else. And yet, she was trapped there. Dependent on it, and on its people. She’d lived in other places and in other ways before, and it wasn’t something she wanted to experience again— ever.

That left her vulnerable in a dizzying, sickening way. And instead of doing what the other, sensible people of Jackson seemed to do— instead of leaning into it, letting herself soften into that web of dependency— she chafed at it.

She’d wanted to lash out all week. At smug Linda Hayes, who looked at her like some kind of witch when she picked up supplies at the butcher shop. At chatty old Jack Auden, who came by her clinic to get a tonic for his sister, but clearly just wanted to check up on her, draw her out of something she didn’t particularly want to be drawn out of. At Brandy Burkholder, with her grating adolescent tough-girl posturing.

Her jaw hurt from clenching it shut, from the effort of fixing her face into something like neighborly politeness.

She’d even restrained herself from starting shit with Marisa Robinson, yesterday in the dining hall, when she’d ladled up a bowl of soup for her and then loosed a fat glob of spit right in it, before setting it roughly on her tray. The girl had stared right into her eyes the whole time, her message clear as day. 

But Nina had just walked away, picked at the rest of her lunch, and gone back to her clinic.

She had no doubts anymore about who Starkey had been fucking. Which presented another problem— how to get Marisa treated for gonorrhea, when she wanted Nina’s head on a pike. Maybe when they got back she could talk to Maria, get her to have a heart to heart with the girl.

They stopped for food around noon in a sunny patch on the edge of a pine thicket. Nina watched Joel pace around, shaking out his stiff, cold limbs, before sitting down on a rock a few feet away from her. She passed him a packet of jerky and dried berries, and he nodded a thanks. 

The sun was high now in a cloudless sky and the air was starting to warm her face. She leaned her head back and looked up at the wide expanse of blue, edged with scraggly tree tops. A round little bird darted from one branch to another and whistled a sweet, three-beat song.

“Mountain chickadee,” she said, pointing at the branches.

“Hmm?”

“They’re a good omen. At least according to the Shoshone.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.” Joel paused, chewing the tough meat. “Is that what you are? Shoshone?”

She couldn’t help it— she burst out laughing. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his expression darkening. “None of my business.”

“No, no,” she said. “I don’t mind. But that’s the wrong kind of Indian. I’m the dot kind, not the feather.” She took a sip from her canteen. “At least my mom was. My dad was Irish Catholic.”

Joel nodded slowly. “I’m half too. Dad was white, but my mama was born in Mexico. Michoacán.” He looked at Nina and didn’t exactly smile, but he stopped frowning for a moment.

“You and Tommy have the same problem I do. White name, brown face.”

She studied him for a moment, appreciating the warm, deep eyes and strong nose. The rough, wary good looks. He was watching her, with that simmering intensity he had, and she had a sudden urge to run her hand through his untidy curls.

She had a feeling he would let her.

But they had a long day’s ride ahead. Maria’s face flashed in front of her, that warning look she’d given her when Joel had agreed to come on this trip. She knew her friend worried about her taste in men. And she knew Tommy’s brother had a reputation--irascible, violent, unfriendly Joel Miller. The kind of guy she shouldn’t be drawn to, and yet always, despite her best judgement, was.

“I found a book about Shoshone beliefs a while back, on the old University of Eastern Colorado campus.” When she mentioned the campus, Joel’s brow furrowed. “It was full of details on the traditional medicines they used, which was huge for me. It’s not always easy to get medical supplies around here, as you might have noticed.”

“You’ve been to the university?”

She nodded. “I came up through there, when I first came to Jackson.”

He looked down and shook his head. “Pretty rough area.”

“Believe it or not, it used to be worse. I heard that after the Fireflies arrived they cleaned things up a bit.”

Joel stood up abruptly and wiped his hands on his jeans. “We better get movin’ again.”

Tommy watched Maria’s strong fingers gliding expertly over the deck of cards. She riffled, she bridged, she did a series of rapid overhand shuffles with a percussive flourish, all while barely glancing at the movements of her hands. The way she handled the cards reminded him of guys he’d known as a teenager, the sort of macho shit they pulled down in Burnet, Texas, to impress the girls. The sort of shit he’d tried to pull, sometimes successfully and sometimes not— shooting coke cans, throwing knives, hitting the baseball out of the park.

Maria, though— she was the real deal. That finesse wasn’t an act, and neither was her toughness. And instead of impressing Dee Ann Schaefer after homecoming, she was impressing him and Ellie.

The girl’s eyes were sparkling as she followed Maria’s moves. He could practically see the gears turning in her head, and he had no doubt she’d be asking to practice with the card deck tomorrow.

Good.

She needed something to do other than mope around in her bedroom all day. She hadn’t wanted to go to the dining hall for a single meal today, instead opting to hang back and read some old X-men comics that Tommy had scavenged. Maria’d made her promise she would eat something at home, but there was only a single empty can of pears in the sink when they came back after dinner.

Joel’d warned him that she wasn’t doing so great, but he’d been too distracted by everything going on lately to pay it much mind. She’d seemed a little quieter than usual when he saw her around town, and apparently she’d stopped hanging out with the other kids. Some kind of falling out.

But now he could see there was more going on than just that. Ellie had lost a few pounds and was walking around with dark circles under her eyes. It reminded him of when she and Joel first came back to Jackson. He knew only the rough outlines of what had happened out there, but what he knew was awful. And it made him feel terribly guilty, knowing he’d sent Joel out there with the her all alone.

“Kids really didn’t play poker in Boston?” Maria raised her brows as she began to deal.

Ellie shook her head. “I’ve heard about it. But all we ever played at FEDRA school was euchre.”

“Euchre?!” Tommy almost spit out his drink, and a wide smile cracked across Maria’s face.

“What’s the matter with euchre?” Ellie fixed them both with an indignant stare, as Tommy choked back a laugh.

“Sorry, kid. It’s just— my gramma played euchre. Never knew it to be popular with young folks.”

Ellie rolled her eyes at him. “Sorry we weren’t cool enough for you.”

“No, it makes sense,” Maria said with a thoughtful nod. “You probably never had a full deck of cards, did you?” Ellie shook her head no. “They’re surprisingly hard to come by.” She looked down fondly at her yellowed old deck. They were classic red Bicycle cards, the kind with naked cherubs riding down the backs, and Maria was very protective of them.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Tommy felt like he’d missed something.

Now it was Maria’s turn to roll her eyes at him. “If you’d ever payed attention to your grandmother, Tommy, you’d know you only need half a deck to play euchre.” She gave him a fond smile, reaching out to run a hand through his curls. “With a marker and a little creativity, you could use any random set of 26 cards.”

He smiled at her back, getting lost for a second in her rich dark eyes. She was so much smarter than him it wasn’t even funny, but she didn’t seem to mind. I’ve known a lot of men who couldn’t handle a smart, strong woman, she’d told him once. But you don’t have a problem with it. I love that about you.

The doorbell rang while Maria was in the middle of a discussion of which hand beats which. Tommy got up to answer it, not wanting to interrupt the two of them.

He wouldn’t have noticed the path if Nina hadn’t shown him. It was narrow and unmarked, and blocked from the road by strategically placed brush. They carefully arranged the boughs behind them to hide the path again, and walked their horses single file, below the low branches, into the darkening woods. The little A-frame cabin was about a mile in, down a rocky ravine and back up to another ridge.

Nina swung the door open. “It’s probably not wise to make a fire this close to the road, but we’ll be out of the wind at least. The loft is rotten so we’ll have to stay down here.”

Joel looked around at the room, small but clean, with an ancient four-post bed on one end and an enamel wash basin on the another. A pile of heavy blankets was heaped on the floor. “I’ve slept in worse, that’s for sure. I’ll take the floor.”

She looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. “No you won’t, old man. I’ve seen how stiff you are when you get up in the morning after a night on the ground.”

He winced at the ‘old man’ comment, even as he knew it was true— his body wasn’t what it used to be, and she’d certainly feel the effects of the floor much less than he would. But he didn’t think his pride would let him sleep on a mattress while Nina curled up on the floorboards. He paused, still standing by the doorway.

“Look,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “If I was a guy, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. If you’d let Tommy take the floor, there’s no reason not to let me.”

She was right, but he didn’t like it. And he felt embarrassingly disappointed to hear her call him out for his age. Jesus, what did he expect? Like she wasn’t gonna notice he was pushing sixty.

He exhaled heavily, took a few steps forward, and threw his pack down on the bed. “Suit yourself,” he huffed. If she wanted to treat him like an old man, then fine— he’d at least enjoy a night in a bed after a long day’s ride.

Ellie didn’t want to talk to Chuy, but Maria wasn’t budging. She put down the deck of cards and refused to go on with their game until Ellie at least went to the door and thanked him for coming by. As if that was something people actually did. Maybe in nineteen forty or whenever the fuck she’d grown up.

Chuy looked a little awkward, standing on the front stoop with Coco, talking to Tommy. His dark hair flopped over one eye.

“Hi Ellie,” he greeted her with a small smile.

“Hey,” she offered. Her voice sounded weird to her ears. She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she knelt down to rub Coco’s head, scratching the soft fur behind her ears.

“Do you wanna come out for a little walk? It’s a full moon tonight.”

“Uh, sure.” She tried to look casual as she stood, shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. She wasn’t sure why Chuy was here, and the whole thing was making her feel very weird. But part of her was happy to see him, in spite of herself. She’d enjoyed having friends for, like, three weeks.

“Good to see ya, Jesús, “ Tommy said, giving Chuy a pat on the shoulder before he turned back inside. “Ya’ll don’t stay out too late.”

As the door closed behind her, Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Jesús?”

“It’s my full name. Usually just go by Chuy for short.” They fell into step beside each other, walking down the walk and into the empty street.

“In what world is Chuy short for Jesús?”

“Same world where Billy is short for William and Jack is short for John.”

“Okay, that’s a good point.” Something about walking side by side was making things easier. She didn’t have to look at him, for one, and it was much less awkward that way. And when they both fell quiet, she could occupy herself looking at the stars and the luscious silver disk of the moon. They walked a few blocks without talking, just listening to the rhythmic brush of their shoes on concrete.

Coco found a particularly interesting-smelling bush, and they stopped for a minute to let her sniff around it.

“We’ve missed you at the barn,” Chuy said cautiously, turning to look at her face. Ellie looked down at the ground, rocking her weight back and forth on the thin soles of her shoes.

“I’ve just been busy.”

“That’s fine. But you can come by any time you’re free, you know?”

“Mmhmm,” she replied noncommittally.

After a few moments of silence, Chuy spoke again. 

“I’m really sorry.”

Ellie turned toward him, startled. “What do you mean?” Her voice came out sharper than she intended, and it was Chuy’s turn to look away.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but… I guess you know that Brandy and I…” He trailed off.

“Yeah, so?” Ellie gave her best impression of nonchalance. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and she had a fleeting urge to just take off running into the night.

“Well, you like her, don’t you?” He must’ve seen the panic in her face, because he quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell her. Or anyone else, I promise.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and slowly let out her breath. Fuck.

“Was I that obvious?”

Chuy shook his head emphatically. “No, not at all! It was just because I felt the same way about her, you know? You looked at her the same way I did.”

They were both silent for a moment, then Chuy laughed. “Holy shit, I’m so relieved I was right. This would’ve been so weird if I was wrong.”

“Oh, you think this isn’t weird? Because this is pretty fucking weird for me.” Her heart still felt like it wanted to leap out of her throat, but she found herself smiling at Chuy. Grateful to him for being so chillabout this. 

But, god— would he really not tell anyone? Her smile faltered.

“Hey, um, I actually haven’t told anyone... about me.  So please don’t say anything, okay?” She looked at him pleadingly, biting into the skin of her bottom lip.

“Of course not.” His voice was soft and sincere.

She looked up at the sky again, feeling the cold wind brush the hair back from her face, watching a thin stream of clouds blow gauzily over the moon. The relief crackled through her like an electric current. 

When Joel closed his eyes, he felt like he was still swaying on top of the horse. He lay there, warm under the wool blankets, waiting for his exhausted body to give into sleep. But it wasn’t coming.

He felt like an idiot. Nina’s voice echoed in his head: old man, old man, old man. Yes, he was old, and getting older. His body never let him forget it anymore— stiff joints, spasming muscles, bone-deep aches when the weather changed. Those spells he got sometimes, when his ears rang and his breath stopped and it felt like his heart was gonna fucking explode. He should probably ask Nina about those episodes, but he’d rather swallow glass than admit to her how feeble he got sometimes. Not that she couldn’t see for herself.

She could see just fine. Old man, old man, old man. And what was he thinking coming on this trip? He’d had some good reasons to do this, but there had been a lot of good reasons not to.

After Nina mentioned the University of Eastern Colorado, he’d been dogged by unwanted thoughts as they rode into the woods: visions of being shanked and the religious nut jobs and Ellie running hard across the bloody snow.  The drive of his knife through skin and sinew, the frantic fear that he would always be too late to save her. As much as he bristled at being trapped in Jackson, at least he could keep an eye on her and do what he could to keep her safe. Now he was a full day’s ride away, and soon he’d be further still— the furthest he’d been from her since that day in the QZ when Marlene had talked Tess and him into smuggling the girl. What felt like a lifetime ago, in a whole other world.

He had to remind himself that Jackson was safe and that Ellie was in good hands with Tommy. She’d be just fine when he came back, aside from her attitude and her foul mouth. Which weren’t likely to change any time soon.

He shifted around, adjusted his pillow, sighed heavily.

He tried not to think about Nina lying a few yards away, and what he’d dreamed about the last time they slept in a room together. He felt a heavy pulse of blood in his groin, at nothing more than the memory. Well, at least his dick still worked right.

He could hear her breathing, turning occasionally as she tried to get comfortable on the floor. He felt like an asshole for letting her sleep there, although he also would have felt like an asshole for insisting on giving her the bed. Goddamn her.

He heard her shift again, then the rustling of blankets falling to the floor. Then the creaking of floorboards.

She was getting up.

He sat up halfway, on alert, tilting his head to angle his good ear toward the window. Had she heard something or noticed something he hadn’t?

His rifle was within reach, and his arm slid silently across the bed toward the wall where it rested. It was dark, but he could see her remarkably clearly by the moonlight coming through the windows. 

His heart was beating in his throat as she walked toward the bed and stood beside him.

“What—what is it?” he stuttered in a whisper, confused.

“Can I?” She asked, as she leaned down, pulling on the hem of his blanket. At first he thought, dumbly, that she’d changed her mind about taking the floor. Then she pressed her palms against his chest and gently eased him back down into the mattress. She slid under the blanket, moving her body top of his, until she was straddling his legs.

Oh.

“Yes,” he breathed, and she dipped her head down toward his.

It was so much like his dream that he wandered briefly if he’d fallen asleep. But no, he could feel every little thing too acutely: the scratch of the wool covers moving across his skin, the salty taste of dried sweat as he pressed his lips against hers.

They started out tentative. He sampled her soft lips and gently parted them with the tip of his tongue. She tasted like the baking soda she used to brush her teeth, like salt, like something animal and wild. She tasted good.

His hands had moved up to cradle her face. The cut of jawbone, the whorl of ear against his palm. There was something teetering inside him, a thread perilously close to breaking. All the want he’d been holding in around her, tamping down, was rising up. He felt like he might snap.

He dropped his hands, ran them down the dip of her waist and the wide flare of her hips. Dragged her body up against his until her strong thighs were split open above his groin and his hardening cock could find friction on her. She felt him and rutted forward, moaning softly into his mouth.

Not enough. He flipped her over, his weight spreading her legs wider and pressing her down into the old mattress. His hand snaked up below her sweater and skated across belly, ribs, and there— the soft mound of a breast filling his palm, and she was arching into him, groaning.

“Joel,” she moaned against his ear as he slid rough kisses down her neck. Her voice shook something loose, the nagging thought in the back of his mind— Why the fuck was she doing this?

He broke himself away and sat up on his knees. His chest heaved as he looked down at her. His eyes traced the soft curves of her splayed body. Her words echoed in his head again: old man.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“I’m sure, Joel.” She sat up a bit, propping herself on her elbows to look at him. It was dark, but not too dark to see her expression: eyes narrowed, studying him. She looked, like she usually did, fully in command of herself.

“Are you sure?”

He almost laughed. He wanted to say, I’ve been sure from the moment I first saw you. He didn’t say anything though, just slid down onto his belly between her legs. He nuzzled his face against the fabric of her pants as he started to unfasten them, and she gamely lifted her hips to help.

And—fuck—her underwear was drenched, her arousal turning the pale fabric translucent. He rubbed his finger along the cloth, tracing the dark shape of her cunt underneath. She mewled, pushing herself against his hand. Then he was yanking the underwear roughly, scraping them down her thighs and away.

She tasted amazing there, too— like he knew she would. Sweet and musky, with that electric tang that always reminded him of licking a 9-volt.

She gave him instructions— right there, harder, again, faster— and he complied. He liked a woman who knew what she wanted. And she wanted this, he could tell, as she gripped his hair harder and her thighs shook against him. He worked his jaw frantically, trying to get it right for her. He needed to make her feel good.

When she finally came she called out his name. He slowed down but kept going as she shuddered, coming apart underneath him, until finally she pulled him away from her over-sensitized clit.

He rose up and she grabbed his face to hers. She licked her juices hungrily from his lips and chin, her breath fast and hot against his skin.

“Baby,” he said, running his hands through her thick curls. “I want you so bad.”

She grabbed the waistband of his jeans and peeled down his fly, pulling him loose from his boxers. He was painfully hard, desperate to be touched. And she obliged. When she wrapped a hand around him, he couldn’t help thrusting into her grip, feeling the shuddering relief of her palm stroking down his length.

“I can’t get pregnant. In case you were worried about that.”

He stared at her for a second. Actually, he hadn’t been thinking about it at all, although he should’ve fucking been. He had a sudden flash of how reckless he was being.

But there was no way, no goddamn way he was going to stop now.

He was pressing into her sweet cunt almost before he realized it, his hips drawn into her heat like a moth before a lightbulb. She was arching up to meet him there. Her muscles contracted snugly around him and, Jesus fucking Christ, it had been too long since he’d felt this.

“That’s it,” she breathed as she lifted her legs to bring him in even deeper. “Now fuck me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. He started out slow— he was too excited and he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. Holding himself up on one arm, he looked down and watched how his cock slid beautifully in and out of her, the length of him glistening with her arousal. He looked at her face and saw she was watching too, the two of them mesmerized by the machinery of their bodies.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down. “Touch yourself while I fuck you, baby.”

She obeyed, rubbing rhythmic circles against her clit. Biting her lip as she looked up at him.

She began whimpering with each thrust and he couldn’t hold back. He fucked her harder and faster and she lifted her legs even higher to accommodate him, driving him home.

He was getting there, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for long. “Nina, you feel so good. So fucking good,” he panted. He looked at her pleadingly, trying to will her to come again before he lost control completely.

“I want it, Joel,” she gritted out. “Come for me, baby. Don’t stop now.” She moved in tandem with him, snapping her hips up to meet each thrust.

That was it. He slammed against her roughly, faster and faster as he felt his orgasm bloom outward from the base of his spine. “Fuck, oh— oh baby,” he groaned and buried himself deep inside, the first pulse shooting out of him so hard it was almost painful.

“That’s it, yes, yes,” she moaned, rubbing herself even harder as she felt him throbbing against her.

When the waves of pleasure finally ebbed, he was spent, exhausted. But he held himself up by his shaky arms and stayed inside her, watching as she brought herself to orgasm. Watching how his come leaked out around him and slicked the tips of her fingers, as she circled them hard and fast against her swollen clit. He wanted to burn the image into his brain so he’d never forget.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he whispered hoarsely.  “Make yourself come for me. That’s so fuckin’ beautiful.” He coaxed her until she let out a jagged cry and he felt her contracting around him.

He collapsed down to the mattress and pulled him to her, wrapping his arms around her soft body. 

Nina sat up straight, spine long, feeling the smooth slide of her horse’s gait as they moved through the woods. Watery morning light slanted through the branches, catching on clusters of new green leaves. She felt fucking amazing. Better than she had in a long time.

This was their forth day on the road, and she and Joel had been going at each other madly for the past three. Her cunt ached with it, pressed against the hard leather of her saddle. She knew she would enjoy Joel, but she had not anticipated how much. How enthusiastic he would be, and how focused on her pleasure. Doing things like eating her out on a bed of pine needles, on the forest floor, during their lunch break. He’d barely climbed off his horse before he was kneeling in front of her, licking a stripe hungrily down the denim that covered her crotch, unfastening the button at her waist. And she’d felt herself already soaking through her panties as she looked down at his dark unkempt curls, buried between her thighs. They had found a rhythm with each other that undeniably worked.

When she dissociated, she left her body. In sex like this, she became her body. Today, she was here. She was alive to the world. She knew it wouldn’t last forever— it never did— but for now she basked in it.

When they weren’t fucking, he was just as quiet as he ever was. He was a man of extremes— taciturn and careful as he groomed his horse, built a fire, hunted a rabbit for their dinner. Then whispering sweet filth in her ear as soon as they’d crawled into a shared sleeping bag. And that was just fine with her. She wasn’t looking for attachment. 

Even without attachment, things could get complicated, she knew. Tonight they’d be in Lava Hot Springs, with Mo and his men. An excess of men— men with guns, men with knives, men with pride and schemes and swinging dicks. She was acutely aware of the danger in this. Of the danger in taking her current lover along for protection, as she orchestrated a trade with her charming, amoral ex.

Taglist: @anoverwhelmingdin @blueseastorm @wannab-urs

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x original character #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #Ellie Williams #Tommy Miller #Maria Miller #tlou fluff #tlou show #tlou #tlou angst #tlou smut #the last of us

[sappygentlemen]

PART FIVE. to my beloved, basement dweller

you know the drill.

TW: DARK, GORE DESCRIPTIONS, TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS/ATTACHMENTS/BEHAVIORS. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION ☝️‼️

beep. beep. beep. beep.

".... do you think Sam will wake up today?.."

".......I dont know Quincy... im doing everything I can, but between, all their current injuries, their lack of a leg, the mass amount of VERY old injuries it seems, that never healed right..... i... i dont know Quincy."

".....its been 3 weeks........"

Quincy wanted to ask if Sam would EVER wake up... but he knew he couldnt handle the potential answer to that question. He chose to hold his tongue. even though Nate knew exactly what he wanted to ask.

sigh "i know Quincy. Im sorry.....Your welcome to stay, but i suggest you go hom-"

"Id like to stay.. please.... please nate.."

Quincys voice was wavering, cracked at the end. His previous sobbing evident in his hoarse throat and sniffles. The eye bags proved the lack of sleep hed been getting these past few weeks, but Nate didnt need them to know.. Nate had been Sams doctor since Quincy bravely rushed Sam to his mentor.. their next door neighbor.. Dr. Nate.

As Quincy stood, wobbly, but standing, Nate could do nothing but look at his usually lively and strong assistant, with sympathy, and concern. Hed promised not to look into the situation that caused Sams state, under a promise he made Quincy, that possibly went against everything Nate stood for, but a promise Nate intended to keep ,for Quincys sake nonetheless.

"very well. please have a shower though.. i know this is hard but, im sure your friend wouldn't want to see you suffer like this."

Silence fills the room. Quincy walks to the white, clean, neat hospital bed. Sams hospital bed. The same bed, hed been laying, un-moving, for 3 weeks. Sams condition was stable, and he was healing well, but he had remained in the coma, causing Nate to be concerned... concerned that maybe he would never wake up..

Though, he was interrupted and his attention was stolen, as he got an urgent code, not being able to say a proper goodbye to his former assistant, before he was rushing and running down the halls of the hospital. Quincy was understanding, he knew no matter how much Dr.Nate cared, he still had a job to do.

He calmly pulled a small book of poems out of his bag, as he pulled a chair up next to Sams bed, making sure to avoid all the wires. He had read this book to Sam everyday, since the second day of Sams hospital stay, when Quincy made a trip home, to pack a bag of stuff.

"this was always your favorite book.. you used to read it to me, remember?... i hope you can hear me reading it...im trying my best to do get all the voices right.."

The silence in the room is interrupted, by a cracked, hoarse, sob escaping Quincy's throat, as he chuckled lightly, whipping away his tears with his jacket sleeve.....more specifically.. Sams jacket sleeve...

"everyone knows you were always the best at that...i hope im doing just as good for you."

Quincy sighed, putting the book down. he hated crying while he read the book of poems, afraid to get his tears on the precious pages. Quincy held onto Sams larger hand, before laying his head on s\Sams lap. letting the tears flow silently as his mind recounted these last three weeks.

He had visited his house, and his Brother, once every week. to grab supplies. The first time he went home. he was bombarded by his older brother, though, he couldnt bear to look Declan in the eyes. He fought Declan, proving he could hold his ground, and that he was no longer the little baby brother Declan once knew. Instead, he had grown into a man. A man who promised himself to be better then Declan or his Father could ever hope to be. He loved Sam like a father, and losing Sam gave him all the strength he could never muster, to finally stand up to Declan. When he left Declan, he had made sure to leave his mark on that house, and Declan himself, without even being physically violent. he had destroyed every gift hed ever received from Declan, including, the most valuable, and meaningful... his beloved piano.

Declan was of course, devastated by Quincys absence, and "betrayal", but Quincy could care less. Quincys last piece of pity to his older brother, came in a promise, a promise to never spill Declan and Sams, dark secret. But, the promise came at a cost. Declan could never speak to him or Sam again.

As Quincy laid his head on Sams soft lap, covered in a soft fleece blanket, that Sam had loved dearly. Quincy finally looked up, and out the window. it was dark outside.... he hadnt realized hed been here this long... maybe he would take a shower in the morning.... just a quick one. but for now. he need to sleep. Crying for so long made his body weak and his head heavy. Quickly setting up a little space beside Sam, on the bed, as he did every night, and began squishing his small body, into Sams side, not moving Sam, too afraid to worsen his condition or mess up a wire. Eventually, as Quincy calmed down, next to Sam, he began to slowly drift off.

Not noticing the figure behind the hospital curtain.

I slowly blinked my eyes open, met with an entirely sore body, a weight on my side, and a horrible migraine. There is an extremely annoying in my ear. god damn beeping.

I slowly blinked and looked around to my left, seeing Quincy laying in my side, peacefully curled up, head on my chest. so thats where i was. a hospital. such a smart boy, i leaned my head down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, slowly and painfully moving the hand underneath him, out from under him, and then draping it over his body, instantly relaxing his tense form, as, even in his unconscious state, he began to uncurl and wrap around my side, head snuggled deeper into my chest.

even as a growing young man... hes still my little boy..

After a few seconds of staring at Quincys obviously disheveled and weak body, i turned my head to the right, trying to take in my surroundings. but before I could. I was met with a sight i never expected.

Declan.

Declan was standing about 6 feet away from my bed, no emotion, just a blank stare as we made eye contact. I was un-phased. I did not care if he wanted forgiveness. i did not care if he was was "right" or if i "deserved" this punishment. i was no longer his. he was no longer my soulmate, and im starting to think he never was.....

Declan and me made eye contact as his gaze turned from blank, to one of remorse, opening his mouth. but before he could, i shook my head. turning away from his form. I could hear his hesitant and heavy footsteps as he walked towards me.

"youre still mine. youll get better, and then we can be better again... all of us... we can be a family.."

a deafening silence filled the room

.............

i cleared my dry, hoarse throat as i attempted to whisper. Quietly pressing the "doctor" button, on my hospital bed remote.

"no. I am not yours anymore. I may have been, once upon a time... but that twisted fairytale, has long since ended. Goodbye."

Declan must have heard the hurried footsteps too, as he quickly left the room, but not without one more scowl my way.

very Soon, a very.....handsome? man hurridely stepped into the room, body obviously tense and in a panic as spoke quickly, without looking up....oh.. so this was my angel.. how cute

"QUINCY!! you called?? what hapened??? Are they coding?!?!........oh. um, hello?"

The short, nervous doctor, let out a small chuckle as he came closer to me, at a slower, calmer pace now.

"its good to see you awake.. mr. sam... im sure Quincy will be elated by the news"

"hello... yes, im sure he will be too... thank you.. for saving me that day.....but um.. speaking of days.... what day IS it"

"Its the 30th. youve been in a coma for 3 weeks. its good to have you back."

To my concerned displeasure, Quincy woke up, likely at all the noise. quickly stiffening, when he saw my wide, tired eyes. He quickly sat up before launching himself into my arms, with wide eyed, smiling sobs.

"SAM!!! YOURE AWAKE!! OH GOSH I WAS SO SCARED!!!!"

his voice trailed off, as he laid his lower body, between my legs, and his upper body, on my chest and stomach, arms wrapped around my waist. I slowly stroked his hair, hoping to offer some comfort

"....i thought you might never wake up......i was so scared"

The handsome doctor, pulled up a chair next to me, smiling and began explaining things to me, such as the next steps treatment wise. I would receive a prosthetic leg, and daily walks/physical therapy. but i needed to stay under their care, to monitor all my other injuries.

MONTHS LATER

I had been officially released from the hospital two weeks ago, though i received daily physical therapy sessions. my new prosthetic leg was helping a ton, Quincy had gone back to working as an assistant for Dr- i mean.. Nate,, just Nate :)

Nate had moved, recently, to a bigger space. Allowing me and Quincy to move in with him. He was a kind, gentle man, and he was incredibly sweet to me.... even when i had my strongest PTSD episodes... he and Quincy were always there.

I had been diagnosed with BPD and PTSD, during my time at the hospital, with the help of my amazing therapist and psychologist. Life had been hard to manage with those two together.. the meds.. the physical therapy.. the healing process... it was all incredibly hard.

But it wasnt all bad!! I had gotten closer to Dr.Na- i mean. just.. Nate :)

And i had begun working at a nearby bakery, to help pay the bills and my medical expenses. Quincy deserved a childhood, and i was prepared to give him one, always trying to take him places with my extra money, or give him cute little gifts. he was a sweet kid, he deserved the world. Nate and I had gotten close, and i had developed a mini crush on him, though i wont act on it yet.. my therapist says i need to differentiate fiction from reality, so i dont potentially hurt Nate. so, im gonna do my best.

however.... Declan also hasn't left me alone.... ive been getting weekly letters.. dark letters... letters with pictures of me in different places. it was all concerning.. though id decided to ignore it.. surely he wouldnt try anything again?

......right?

#declan is not 🚫 my oc ‼️ #oc x oc #NO MORE YANDERE X YANDERE #gore writing #Sam x ????? #Quincy #Nate #Sam #Recovering yandere #Injured oc #redemption arc #yandere #stalker

[theunofficalttcrrau]

Credits:

Mocha - @mochablogger

Rubix - @rubixisanidi0t

Blair - @blairdrawzstuff

Hazel - @moonmxple

The Traumatized Cup, RR AU: Chapter 2: Broken Glass.

Mocha's sleep was packed with nightmares, each willing to haunt her every second. She felt mildly uncomfortable, tossing and turning in her bedpan. The cup, frustrated and upset, slowly got up to get a bottle of water from her bag. (Don't do it , Mocha. It's not worth it-)

But she was too tired to even move.

Mocha glanced at Blair and Hazel, soundly asleep in their blankets.

"Should I ask them for help..?" Mocha thought.

"Nah.. I don't wanna disturb them.."

Mocha pondered on whether she should wake them up or not , though she CLEARLY thought of Blair to wake her up in case something was wrong.

"Y'know what.. ? Nevermind.."

The tired cup, with bags under her eyes, groaned as she fumbled out of her bedpan. She shuffled her way to the sitting room, where she had left her sleepover bag.

But as she was about to open the zipper , Mocha suddenly fell to the cold, hard floor.

[Blair's P. O. V:]

For some odd reason, Mocha wasn't in her bedpan when I woke up. I slowly got up to see where she was, only to hear knocking on the door. Not even caring about being tired, I get up, and slowly open the door to see.. Oh look, it's Rubix.

"Rubix..?"

"Oh , Hey. I was just researching some butterflies, and I heard a loud thud sound over here." Rubix explained , with a concerned look on his face.

"Is.. Anything going on?"

"Not at the moment.. But I can't find Mocha.."

"You can't find her?"

"Yeah.. Hey.. Would you be a champ , and come help me look?"

"Of course!"

Me and Rubix searched the house, and we couldn't find her. I sighed. Maybe she went home? No.. Not in the middle of the night..

Me and Rubix then checked the sitting room.. We then saw..

[Hazel's P. O. V]:

"Ooooooh! Some pretty butterflies!"

I danced and twirled around the pools of lavenders, petunias, and daffodils. The birds on the large cherry tree chirped and spread their adorable wings. They started chirping and taking off into the blue sk-

"HAZEL! WAKE UP!!"

"WHAT-?!"

I woke up, and realized that it was all just a dream.

"Rubix? What are you doing here? And since WHEN we're you a doctor? Oh, and by the way, I was having an awesome dreeaaamm!! Why'd you wake me uppppp??"

"A, Mocha has fainted. B, I was also a cop, a part of community service, apart of the BoosterFun team.. And etc etc. And C, don't talk to me like that."

".. Excuse me, Mocha WHAT?"

"..Fainted..?"

At first I didn't believe it. But then I sprung up from my bedpan and ran towards the corridor, leaving the slushie behind.

"Wait for me!!!"

I stopped in my tracks.

"...oh.. my.."

Blair then turned to me.

That's Mocha, alright. On the floor, passed out, with BLEEDING cracks in her handle. "What happened??" I said, as I looked towards Blair and Rubix, hopefully expecting an answer.

Blair: "I don't know! I just went to get a midnight snack, heard Rubix at the door saying he heard a loud THUD , we checked the house, and found her fainted!"

Rubix: "Thankfully she's alive.."

Meanwhile, I grabbed a cloth, and cleaned the bloody carpet, while Rubix wrapped her handle with bandages from his first aid kit. He really seemed to know what he was doing.

Blair: "Let's wake her up first, shall we..?"

Rubix: "Yeah.."

Me: "Let's take her to YOUR bedroom.."

While Blair (with a little help of Rubix) dragged Mocha into the bedroom, I noticed something really strange with her left eye. It was white, with a flame of black..

"What's that..?" Blair said, pointing to the odd eye.

"I honestly never seen that before.. What IS that thing?"

Rubix: "I don't know.. Let me see.."

Rubix flipped open some random page of.. An actual GhostBusters journal?

Rubix: "It's a demon. 100%."

Blair: "Oh crap.."

Rubix: "Well, either way, we should try to still wake her up."

Me: "Mhm.."

I looked at Blair, who was holding an ice cold bucket of water, with her shaking nervously. Rubix immediately stood in the corner of the room, with a taser in one hand, and an AK-47 in the other.

Me: "What are y'all gonna do with that?"

SILENCE.

"PUMPKIN PIE!!!" We're the words Blair suddenly yelled, as she poured the water onto Mocha's face. She got up with a yelp. I was too shocked to process what was happening. "Well, you did wake her up.. But was saying "pumpkin pie" really that necessary?"

"I dunno. Blair shrugged. "Do you know how muc-"

Out of nowhere, Mocha sprang up and started to attack Blair, scratching her face and her left eye. She screamed as the blood trickled down her, as she teared up, with the blood staining the carpet.

"FREEZE!" Rubix snapped at Mocha. She turned to face him.

"Stop right there , and put your hands in THE AIR!"

Mocha just smiled creepingly at him..

"I'm not scared of B.S like you..."

"I SAID.."

"FREEZE! ANYTHING YOU SAY OR DO WILL NOT BE HESITATED TO USE AGAINST YOU IN THE COURT OF LAW!"

Mocha was about to attack him.

"So, are you gonna keep looking at me like that, or.."

"Of COURSE I'm gonna look at you like that, you cackling bitch.."

I quickly jumped in.

"Mocha! Is that you?"

"Duh."

"Are you hurt? How did you faint?"

"Stop asking me stupid questions.."

"Why did you.. Uh.. Do the thingy to Blair?"

"Do you have an IQ of negative 25?? EVERYONE knows why Mocha VIOLENTLY HARRASED Blair."

"Violently.. Harrased.. Is not the term I wanna go with.." Blair hoarsingly said.

"I'll.. Just get some bandages.."

I sighed, as I walked towards Rubix's first aid kit, located in the kitchen. As I was grabbing some plasters, I heard a loud scream. I went to check..

"MOCHA!"

Mocha held up a vase, ready to attack Blair , who was on the floor, begging for mercy. Rubix is sitting in the corner, frightened.. His left eye is missing.. Rubix quickly grabbed his taser, and shot Mocha in the eye with it. She dropped the vase, and it shattered, as she dropped onto the carpet.

"Eye for an eye..." He mumbled, as I helped Blair up.

Blair: "I-Is she okay?"

Rubix: Yeah, she's fine.."

Me: "Mostly.."

I went to fix Blair's wounds after that.

____

Chapter 3 - Coming soon.

[mira-blue]

tell me about widowmaker

KISSES YOU!!!!

i was literally about to go to sleep but you know what, i can spare a lil info dump especially considering i was just reading her wiki page

ANYWAYS widowmaker!!!!!! her real name is amèlie guillard (later amèlie lacroix when she gets married) and she grew up in what seems to be a conservative, cold, detached but rich family. she used dancing to escape this life, becoming a very famous ballet dancer in paris. she also marries an overwatch agent, gerard lacroix, and they seem to be v happy together but!!!! no happiness lasts, and the terrorist organization he'd been trying to bring down kidnaps amèlie, tortures and brainwashes her, returns her, and everything seems normal enough except for her memory gap - until she murders her husband in his sleep two weeks later. she returns to talon because that's what they programmed her to do (i REFUSE to accept the retconned lore where she CHOOSES to return to them, fuck you blizzard) and goes through even more reconditioning plus some body modifications that leave her with a heartbeat so slow her skin turns purple-blue. which is kind of funny because she's supposed to be a 'stealth sniper' but like. she's purple-blue. oh yeah and she can feel no emotions except for satisfaction when she kills - but also has left roses on gerard's grave and always seems more annoyed than emotionless and actually downright scared of the doctor that experimented on her and also kind of funny in a mean way sometimes. so you see the reason i'm so ill about her is the abundance of tragedy where, clearly, despite being forced to feel nothing and be nothing other than a perfect weapon, there's also all these little signs that there is a glimmer of something buried under all that and that even though it would be so hard and painful, maybe there's hope for her to escape and heal and return to a life worth living, despite everything

#you can see the sprinkles of misogyny that blizzard butchers her charcter with but fuck them she's MY character now #i'm taking her in the divorce #and making her fall in love with angela after a long progress of healing and forgiveness and cat adopting #HGRGRGGR anyways thank you so much #i needed to like. puke words about her #brainrot's been so bad and so BOTTLED #but now i can sleep a little easier #so goodnight<3 love ya #asks #moots #mirambles

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home EVAN BECKETT (austin butler fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

APP FORM

BASICS

[Austin Butler, Cis-Man, he/him/his]

When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [Evan Beckett]? Old friends remember him as [devoted and gentle] but also [hesitant and naive], no wonder he’s still known as [The Good Christian Boy] around town. Today, in 2006, he is [39] and some people say he reminds them of [the sunlight coming through a small town church skylight mid-day, the smell of a handcrafted cabin tucked into the South Carolinian forest, the way one’s chest burns when their entire world view comes into question, the simplicity of a notebook and a fresh cup of coffee, and the way the brightest smile can cover up the emotional bruises of a childhood spent wondering if their sister was ever really real].

[V, 33, she/her/hers, EST/GMT-5].

BIOGRAPHY

1972 – 1985 ( SOUTH CAROLINA )

THEN  .

She  went  missing  before  he  was  able  to  remember  her  face. All  he  has  of  her  are  shadows  of  a  sister;  her  hand  picking  up  a  toy,  her  dress  in  the  wind,  the  squeak  of  her  bike  wheels,  the  cackle  of  a  laugh. He  remembers  only  the  pieces  he  is  supposed  to  remember  because  there  was  more  to  her  than  that,  but  those  things  were  locked  away  long  before  Evan  could  make  sense  of  it  all. There  were  power  outages  and  sudden  breaking  dinnerware,  there  were  slamming  doors  and  flies  buzzing  in  a  pattern  that  was  unnatural. He’d  never  understood  the  chaos  around  him  and  why  his  sister  couldn’t  control  herself,  or  why  his  parents  always  fought  over  what  to  do  with  her  or  where  to  send  her. These  were  things  his  young  mind  wouldn’t  latch  onto,  lost  to  the  times  in  which  they  existed,  Evan  unable  to  return  to  them. All  he  understood  was  she  was  long  gone  by  the  time  he  was  old  enough  to  remember  she  existed  at  all,  and  by  then  it  was  far  too  late.

It  wasn’t  long  after  that  his  parents  separated. His  father  became  his  anchor  to  the  shores  of  South  Carolina  and  his  mother  the  bird  that  flew  free,  taking  with  her  only  an  overnight  bag  and  the  family  car. She,  too,  like  his  sister,  was  gone,  but  this  time  Evan  had  enough  of  a  memory  of  her  to  know  that  it  stung,  that  he’d  cried  himself  to  sleep  before  deciding  there  was  no  use  in  that. She’d  made  the  decision  to  leave  and  not  call,  or  write,  or  bother  to  show  up  to  his  first  swim  meet. He  remembers  her  promising  him  that  she  would  be  front  row,  because  she  knew  he  was  a  fish  on  land,  destined  for  greatness  in  the  sea. That  was  the  night  Evan  decided  he’d  only  cry  over  worthier  things. Evan  existed  in  a  protected  bubble,  still  young  and  carefree. With  his  mother  gone  however,  his  father  expected  great  things  and  it  was  easy  to  obey  that,  as  Evan’s  mind  didn’t  have  anything  worthy  of  wandering  to. No  day  dreams  or  wishes,  nothing  until  he  was  graduating  middle  school  and  he  and  his  father  were  packing  up  the  bungalow  in  which  he’d  lived  his  whole  life  in. They  couldn’t  afford  it  anymore,  but  his  grandparents  had  died  and  left  his  father  their  pile  dwelling  so  it  was  across  town  and  to  the  sea  they  went. While  he  was  helping  pack  up  the  home  he’d  found  a  box  buried  in  the  back  of  a  closet,  very  cliché  and  very  telling  even  to  a  boy  whose  biggest  curiosity  was  why  his  crush  savannah  hadn’t  accepted  his  hand  at  the  Sadie  Hawkins’  dance. 

1986   .

THEN  .

It  was  that  box’s  content  that  forced  Evan  to  grow  up. He’d  been  forced  to  realize  his  sister  was  taken,  not  gone,  that  his  parents  had  kept  something  important  from  him  his  entire  life  and  it  had  ruined  their  marriage. He’d  gone  from  barely  an  imagination  to  someone  who  lived  in  a  thousand  different  timelines,  not  just  for  himself  but  for  his  sister,  trying  to  make  sense  of  everything  he  had  read  on  the  pages  filling  that  box. There  had  been  medical  records  dating  back  to  her  birth  that  linked  her  to  a  doctor  out  of  Indiana,  a  state  he  hadn’t  known  either  parent  to  have  a  connection  to. His  family  on  both  sides  had  been  born  and  raised  in  South  Carolina,  so  any  connection  to  a  landlocked  state  was  a  mystery  Evan  knew  he  couldn’t  solve  overnight. (  he  would  later  learn  the  state  flirted  with  Lake  Michigan,  but  any  state  not  bordered  by  the  sea  on  one  side  would  be  a  landlocked  prison  in  his  mind  ). It  wasn’t  until  his  high  school  graduation  that  Evan  was  able  to  start  working  a  job  to  save  up  enough  to  leave. Then  he  was  on  a  one-way  greyhound  out  of  state  and  to  somewhere  he  was  unfamiliar  with,  both  in  geography  and  the  accent  of  the  people  there. He  stood  out,  the  ‘  not  quite  southern  ‘  southern  boy,  the  one  who  spent  half  his  days  at  the  community  pool  or  trying  to  hitch  rides  up  to  the  edge  of  Lake  Michigan. He  wanted  freedom  in  the  sea,  but  that  would  come  after  he  found  answers. His  sister  had  been  taken  to  this  state,  to  a  town  called  Hawkins,  and  he  wanted  to  know  why.

Evan  knew  he  might  not  ever  get  answers. He  knew  that  secretive  boxes  in  the  backs  of  closets  weren’t  the  kind  of  thing  that  ended  in  happy  endings  with  cliché  running-hugs  between  siblings  who  barely  knew  each  other,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  story,  didn’t  matter. No,  instead  he  knew  all  of  his  leads  might  end  up  nowhere,  or  worse,  to  things  he  shouldn’t  be  digging  into. It  was  with  a  sense  of  both  caution  and  reckless  abandon  that  Evan  moved  to  Hawkins,  Indiana  with,  determined  to  figure  out  what  happened  to  his  sister.

1986 – PRESENT [ tw: war mention ]

NOW  .

Moving to Hawkins was a choice that young Evan Beckett was thankful to have made. He made friends easy and sunk himself into the small town life. His work gave him enough income to get his own apartment and keep his old car going, even taking trips up to the lake to remind himself what it was like living at the edge of the sea ( not that it would ever compare ). Trying to find answers about his sister’s disappearance was second to making an income but he never gave up. Sarah Kline, daughter of infamous Mayor Kline, became a fast, quick friend, and soon he was confessing his love to her. With her help and contacts in the archival offices, he was able to make huge headway into the disappearance of his sister.

He married Sarah two weeks after his 23rd birthday. They’d been young and in love, five years into forever with the promise of eternity in their smiles. Loving her had been easy and fast. It had been the freedom Evan had been looking for and the reason to grow roots in this small town. He’d always been a home body, someone who wanted streets to become so familiar he could draw them with his eyes closed, or the type who became the town local that newcomers were told about — ‘ that Evan Beckett, a fine boy, knows everything about this town, even the secrets ‘ . Even in the face of God and the promise of eternal love, he and Sarah fell apart. Five years in and ten years together they were signing divorce papers promising to keep in touch, promising that even if their love wasn’t enough, their friendship would be. He had to grow and find himself, so did she.

Evan moved back to South Carolina shortly after and inherited his father’s pile dwelling. After his passing, Evan decided it was time to quit freelance journalism and find himself a ‘ real job ‘. His calls to Sarah slowed — weekly, monthly, and then promises to update every six months. Then nothing. Evan was trying to build his career but no newspapers were hiring for his specialty. News networks were, however, so he found himself as the mid-day news anchor, then slowly out in the field doing community work, and in 2001 he was sent to Afghanistan. This was a chance to prove himself worthy of real journalism that made a difference, that didn’t allow governments to lie about their actions.

( He knew all about that. The truth about his sister’s disappearance was uncovered shortly after 1986. He’d always known she was dead and his search for answers weren’t deluded into thinking he would find her, but nothing could have prepared himself for the truth ).

A few girlfriends here and there, but Evan kept his life back home quiet and steady. He’d grown up this way and it was ingrained into his DNA. He never married again nor did he come close to it, not out of unhealed love for Sarah but because he wasn’t sure that he was made for it. What he felt ‘ made for ‘ was helping people and doing good. Those were the roots that Evan Beckett laid for himself.

In the years since coming home from Afghanistan, Evan got back into journalism and worked his way up into a senior position role at The Post and Courier (a Pulitzer prize winning newspaper running for major cities in South Carolina). He preferred writing and investigating rather than being in front of the camera so he sunk into a busy but quiet job at the newspaper. He’d forgotten all about the details of his life in Hawkins but never the terror that gripped the town. He never told anyone what he saw or witnessed out of respect for a town trying to heal its wounds, but he never forgot them.

The letter informing him of Joyce Byers’ death came as a shock. He was never particularly close to Jonathan, nor his group of friends back then, but he supposed he’d made enough of an impact in Hawkins to be invited to the funeral. Evan didn’t need to think twice about it. Just as he’d done as a young man, this time with an upgraded car, he headed out to the Midwest. What adventures were coming his way were up to fate.

STATS

Athletics (How Athletic are they?): 2

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?): 0

Contacts (Do they know people with information?): 3

Deceive (Are they a good liar?): -2

Drive (like, actual driving ability): 2

Empathy (On a scale of 1-10 how much of an empath are they?): 2

Fight (Do they have hands?): -1

Investigate (Can they sleuth?): 3

Lore (Kinda like knowledge): 2

Medicine (First Aid Essentially): 1

Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?): 3

Notice (Is your character observant?): 3

Provoke (Are they a shit stirrer?): -3

Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on command?): 2

Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale): 2

Stealth (Are they sneaky?): -1

Will (Tenacity): 3

EXTRAS  .

BIRTH CHART: 3.09.1967

VIRGO SUN  .Virgo people are generally respectable, hard-working individuals who have a love of knowledge and know-how. Virgos are sensitive to their surroundings and tend to embarrass easily. Solar Virgos have a strong sense of responsibility. Virgos want to do things well. Some are exacting and thorough, and those Virgos who have convinced themselves to do a less-than-perfect job will generally feel incomplete. There’s an odd combination of the intellectual and the practical in Virgo that is sometimes mistaken for coolness. In fact, Virgos are often self-effacing and shy.

LEO MOON  .

He is brave, knowing how to take risks and possessing the courage of his convictions, honest, imposing, and sharp. He has a great sense of, and respect for, justice. Expressive. Seeking adoration. Organizational sense. Selectivity with friends but is not overly influenced by them. Taste for splendor. A social leader.

SCORPIO RISING  .

Scorpio Ascendant people have a lot of presence. There is something about them that tells the world that they are not to be pushed around. Scorpio rising people can be quiet or loud, but they always seem powerful and determined. Scorpio rising people, in their dealings with others, look for answers by reading between the lines. Scorpio rising natives are drawn to down-to-earth, natural partners. Reliability in their partner is very important. They generally look for complete commitment and have little patience with flighty partners.

MORAL  ALIGNMENT  .

lawful good

MYERS  -  BRIGGS  .

ENFP – campaigner

https://www.pinterest.ca/bourbcn/evan-beckett-character-mood-board/

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DWSK8os4XIQBk?si=bced6ff4b35b4c8a

#submission #accepted #evan

[blxckdragonfly]

About My Blog!

“She wore the night, gentlefriends. And all the night came with her.” 

- Jay Kristoff, Darkdawn. 

Greetings! My name is Tiger or BlxckDragonfly and welcome to my blog, those who have followed me for a while or have just followed because we have something in common. 

Here's a little bit about my blog and myself in general:

🔎 True Crime

👻 Paranormal

🎮 Gaming (Skyrim. Tomb Raider. Assassin's Creed. Spyro. Resident Evil. Fallout. Far Cry. The Witcher. Silent Hill. Mortal Kombat. Halo. Etc)

📖 Reading (Nevernight/Empire of The Vampire. Gideon The Ninth. Serpent and Dove. Six of Crows/King of Scars. Vicious by VE Schwab, Mercy Thompson. Stalking Jack The Ripper. Hollow Kingdom. The Shadow of The Gods. The Song of Achilles. The Covenant of Steel. Etc)

📺 TV Shows (Supernatural. Vikings. The Walking Dead. Doctor Who. Sherlock. Dexter. Sons of Anarchy. Mr. Robot. American Horror Story. Friends. Peaky Blinders. Buffy The Vampire Slayer. The Vampire Diaries. Ghost Adventures. Red Vs Blue, RuPaul's Drag Race. House of The Dragon, Wednesday. Killing Eve. Etc)

🎥 Movies (The Crow. V for Vendetta. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Bohemian Rhapsody. The Dark Knight. The Power of The Dog. Black Swan. Doctor Strange In The Multiverse of Madness. Spirit: Stallion of The Cimarron. The Twilight Saga. Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts. Underworld. Resident Evil. Marvel: Avengers. Venom. Deadpool. Guardians of The Galaxy. Black Widow. Spider-Man. Etc. DC: Birds of Prey. Joker. The Batman. Etc. Disney: The Lion King. The Jungle Book. The Nightmare Before Christmas. Etc)

Anime (Black Butler. Tokyo Ghoul. Death Note. Attack on Titan. Soul Eater. Demon Slayer. The Promised Neverland. Yu-Gi-Oh. Pokemon. Dragon Ball Z. Spy x Family. Twin Star Exorcists. Chainsaw Man. Naruto: Kakashi. Rock Lee. Gaara. Orochimaru. Neji Hyuga, Itachi & Madara Uchiha.)

🎃 Halloween all year round

🩸🔪 Horror Movies & Manga (Friday The 13th. Nightmare on Elm Street. The Ring. Halloween. Saw. Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Scream. The Conjuring. Hereditary. Midsommar. Candyman. Hellraiser. Barbarian. Junji Ito: Tomie. Uzumaki. Gyo. Shiver. Lovesickness. Smashed. Sensor. Deserter. Fragments of Horror. Black Paradox. Tombs. The Liminal Zone. Kazuo Umezu. Naoki Urasawa. Shuzo Oshimi. Etc.)

🎶 Music (Black Veil Brides (Andy Black). System of A Down. Slipknot. Arch Enemy. Cradle of Filth. Ghost. Motionless In White. Ice Nine Kills. HIM (Ville Valo). The 69 Eyes. Evanescence. MCR. Within Temptation. Nightwish. Epica. Delain. Amaranthe. Lana Del Rey. Ellie Goulding. Halsey. Lady Gaga. Megan Thee Stallion. Demi Lovato. Taylor Swift. Panic! At The Disco. Olivia Rodrigo. Ariana Grande. Adele. Billie Eilish. Post Malone. Diamante. Dorothy. Mothica. Florence + The Machine. Okkultist. Spiritbox. Alpha Wolf. Architects. Wage War. Northlane. Lorna Shore. Sleep Token. Swallow The Sun. Twin Temple. The Haxans. Princess Goes To The Butterfly Museum. Corpse. Melanie Martinez)

Pro Wrestling (Malakai Black- who I met on 8.29.21 and is a total sweetheart. Brody King. Buddy Matthews. Julia Hart. Zelina Vega. Rhea Ripley. Becky Lynch. Roman Reigns. Finn Balor. Jon Moxley. Britt Baker. The Bunny. Bianca Belair. Ruby Soho. Darby Allin. Jay White. The Elite. Hangman Adam Page.)

YouTubers: Markiplier. Jacksepticeye. Crankgameplays. Shane Dawson and so forth. And the occasional Unus Annus reblog (RIP).

Musicals/Broadway: Sweeney Todd. The Little Shop of Horrors. The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Wicked

I also have a tendency to write pieces from my own stories here (Darkness Finds You-- MB & Lyra/Chris & Lycia, Medicine Man/Shadows Rise aka Katstrange) and I also reblog stuff that interests me:

🖌️ Art- Dark. Gothic. Occult. Horror. Fantasy. Halloween. Skulls. etc

History. Mythology. Urban Legends. Space. Etc

Animals: 🐅🐆🦁🐊🐍🦇🐦🐎 🦊

I hope you enjoy the stay here and it’s a delight to meet you.  And remember: 

... I’ll always love you in every universe and the house always wins. 😉🖤

x BlxckDragonfly 

HMU on Socials 👇

https://twitter.com/blxckdragonfly

https://www.instagram.com/motionlessvisual/

https://www.instagram.com/zelinasgold/

#pro wrestling #house of black #malakai black #zelina vega #becky lynch #benedict cumberbatch #bookish #writing #gaming #dark art #halloween #horror #paranormal #true crime #feel free to follow #doctor strange #tv shows #movies #music #anime #history #occult #goth #metalhead #motionless in white #ice nine kills

[alfieetheringtonstinginthetale]

so time to put a bit of focus on some of the different mad doctors of media that both inspired my design and some that only got a glancing pass but still are worth a mention starting with Penny Dreadfuls take on the character played by Harry Treadaway 

Penny Dreadful portrays Victor Frankenstein as this soft spoken genius with a poetic obsession with life and death, he seems to be portrayed from clips I’ve seen as this intelligent but somewhat weird and arrogant little weirdo with these odd obsessions, the dark shadows under his eyes along with adding to his more gothic vibe also physically show off that he’s so obsessed with his work that he’s been prone to losing sleep over it and letting his health slip 

you can see some of his personality shine through in this clip of him on youtube where Harry Treadaway explains his views on Victor as character: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCMl4D_lkBo

among the doctors I’ve made doodles of and even among popular victor Frankenstein interpretation Penny Dreadful version is physically the youngest looking being this somewhat gothic and sleep deprived guy in his early to mid 20′s with most other being an older man in his mid 30′s to 40′s, and even most mad doctors in fiction being portrayed as either middle age or elderly, so PD version of victor is a pretty starc standout from the many other Frankenstein's of pop culture. 

Another thing that makes this victor Frankenstein interesting that compared to the general portrayal that sort of just defines him as a crazy scientist who tries to play god and get’s immediate karma for it Penny Dreadfuls versions makes his reason for creating Frankenstein's monster is significantly different because of his personality being more of this arrogant but poetic little creep who’s obsessed with life and death which means his goal is not to see if he can create new life but instead revive the life of those who are gone, this gives this version of the character a bit of a different flavour compared to the rest purely because of his goals.

excess information and much help was provided by this page on the Penny dreadful wiki:https://penny-dreadful.fandom.com/wiki/Victor_Frankenstein

[katealot]

Like The Back Of My Hand

Chapter 11 of Solangelo Soulmate AU

[<- Previous][Next ->]

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11]

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 4,721

tags: #fanfic #solangelo, #will solace, #nico di Angelo, #soulmate au, #pjo, #hoo, #katealot, #LikeTheBackOfMyHand, #fanfiction, #katealot writes, #Doctor!Will Solace, #Artist!Nico Di Angelo #Like The Back Of My Hand

Previously: No sooner had Nico finished adjusting himself was he fast asleep. He couldn't be blamed. The digital clock on the bedside table told Will it was 12:48am. His eyes closed and he breathed a content sigh into his partner's hair.

He was so tired, in fact, that the filters that had gone up to protect whatever they had dropped away.

"I love you." It was so quiet, it was practically a sigh.

His exhaustion took hold of him and he finally sunk into a deep, well deserved sleep, his arms wrapped around the boy he loved.

By the time Will wakes up, wrapped in the warm comforter of Nico's bed the sun trickling in through the window, Nico is nowhere to be found. In his place is a note that read "Early lecture, stay as long as you like but DON'T be nosy :-)". He chuckled and sat up, stretching his bare arms over his head and hearing a few satisfying pops in his back and neck.

He swung his legs off the bed and walked out of the room and towards the kitchen where the scent of a strong batch of coffee still lingered in the air. He poured himself a mug from the french press and headed toward the window where he greeted a small blue flower and the bud growing next to it.

"Good morning, beautiful. Is that a new leaf I see? How exciting! You're doing a great job." He smiled the gentle kind of smile reserved for when you are completely and totally alone. He caressed one of her petals and then turned to head toward the couch when he spotted Nico's studio station. It was a moderately sized stacked desk covered in paint and ink stains cluttered in seemingly no logical ways with art supplies: brushes, stained mason jars of various sizes (some still holding trace amounts of paint water), small canvases, sketchbooks, magazine clippings and printed reference pictures, oil crayons, charcoal vines, pens and pencils. Leaning against either side were a few larger canvasses, their used sides all strategically stacked facing the desk. Will had passed the artist's corner dozens of times in all the times he's been here but he was seldom alone long enough to get a good look. He smirked thinking about Nico's note. Don't be nosy. What Nico didn't know wouldn't hurt him. So sue him for being curious.

He put his coffee down on the side table and padded his way across the wood floor to the desk. Laid open was a medium sized sketchbook and several pencils, as well as a pallet of watercolours and a thin brush still sitting in a shallow bit of water in a jar. On the open page were some rough sketches of figure studies, all faceless and relatively broad in their features. A torso and v-line with an arm hanging casually at its side. The details of a neck extending to the collarbones and shoulders. Several lone muscular arms, wrists and hands in various relaxed and tensed positions. The form of a person, curly haired, lying shirtless, the lines of their freckled shoulder blades pronounced but relaxed with their back to the artist...

He studied the drawings with a profound appreciation for their simplicity. They were detailed, but in a way where five quick strokes might make one defined shadow. He reached toward the page and turned it backwards, toward the used bulk of this sketchbook. Some of the pages were the same texture as the figures page, containing pen and pencil drawings of landscapes, skylines, people, animals, and flowers. Some of them were warped slightly from dried paintings of still lives or what appeared to be just studies of color theory. A few had pasted in pieces of newspapers, magazines and pages from books, drawn and colored on top of and around, punching out words and adding wild features to cologne models while they looked on stoic and blissfully unaware of their new modifications. 

He returned the book to how he found it and glanced up at the pictures he had pinned to the lip of the top shelf. A delightful little drawing of a rotund cow grazing a few tufts of grass, signed perhaps by a friend. Clippings from red carpet events: Billy Porter, Janelle Monae, Rami Malek. A photograph of a group of teenagers, all in matching orange shirts posing in gleeful excitement for a goofy group picture in front of a canoe lake. He searched for Nico's familiar face and found it on a boy with slightly longer hair, half smiling with closed eyes at a curly haired latino boy who was frozen mid jump on his back. He smiled at his expression and his grin only grew as he surveyed the faces of all these people, laughing, sticking tongues out, limbs all strewn about in casual contact with people they clearly held affection for.

On a tiny canvas perched on a tiny easel just under the picture was a minuter oil painting of the roman Colosseum in the oranges, yellows and pinks of a fiery sunset.

Will felt exhilaration mixed with a humbling honor at being a sole patron at this exclusive gallery. His heart suddenly swelled at the thought that, whether intentionally or not, Nico had put his trust in Will to bear witness to Nico's own private treasures, work that so clearly reflects the heart that beats in his chest... and to keep them safe next to his own. His eyes where starting to get misty when his hopelessly romantic train of thought was interrupted by the ping sound of his text notification.

He dug his phone out of the pockets of his jeans and saw the preview of a text from his half-sister.

"Oh shit, almost forgot." He murmured to himself, turning on his heel to collect his things from the bedroom before heading out the door, locking the apartment behind him.

A few hours later Nico emerged from the lecture hall, cold, weary and slightly sore from note taking. He instinctively took out his phone to check the time and saw a text from Will. 

If you finish up any time soon and are feeling in the mood to lend a helping hand, meet me at my house? Free pizza and beer.

It was just shy of half past noon and he didn't have any more classes for the rest of the day. He pondered it only for a few moments more before calling an Uber.

The driver dropped him off in front of Will's house, just behind a U-haul trailer attached to a pickup truck. Nico stood slightly confused for just a moment until the front door opened and out came Kayla, holding a large plant and a standing lamp, it's chord wrapped loosely around the base and its many arms all ending in a different colored cone shaped lampshade bundled together with a zip-tie. Following her was Will carrying two big boxes stacked on top of each other.

"Oh, hey Nico!" Kayla said when she saw him, grinning brightly.

He waved a gloved hand and eyed the mostly closed trailer door. Putting the pieces together quickly, he stepped to it and hefted it up the rest of the way, standing on his tiptoes to hold it above his head as they reached him, Kayla climbing right into the back and setting her armfulls next to the minimal boxes and singular bean bag chair already stacked at the far end.

"You guys are moving?" Nico asked, eyeing them as Kayla took the boxes from Will one by one and stacked them alongside their brethren.

"I'm moving. Leaving my sweet baby brothers behind to move in with my girlfriend." As Kayla said this she pinched one of Wills already pink from the cold cheeks.

"Ow." He swatted her hand away, rolling his eyes with a passive smile. "If you want to stick around and help us get the rest of her stuff we'll feed you and send you home with alcoholic presents. You don't have to, obviously. With the three of us though, it shouldn't take longer than 30 minutes, 45 tops."

Nico rolled his eyes at the coercion. Of course he was going to help. But not before a healthy dose of ribbing. 

"So you get me to spend my own money coming all the way here after my exhaustive, hours long lecture hall, just to put me to work for a slice of pizza and a wine cooler and then tell me I don't have to as if I could be a total dick and turn you down." He folded his arms in front of his chest. 

They both stared at him, then each other. Kayla cracked a smile. Will shook his head and tried to keep his own at bay.

"You DON'T have to, and we'll still send you home with booze for making the journey all the way downtown." He stepped down out of the trailer, Kayla right behind him, and took a step toward Nico, eyes conveying nothing but his sincere promise.

Nico's neutral expression wavered as Will's new position forced him to look up slightly at the blond. Finally, his demeanor cracked, his lip quirking up in the slightest of smiles.

"Obviously I'll help. I'm already here, aren't I?" He sidestepped Will who remained where he was, smiling down to where he'd just been. Kayla cackled and led the way back into the house where the remainder of the movables sit.

Nico had never actually been inside Will's house before. It was really only just now that he thought about how often it was Will making the trip to his flat, and not the other way around. He didn't know what to expect but he can't say that the dark red patterned wallpaper with a stockinged lady's leg lamp- a la Christmas Story- casting a warm yellowish glow throughout the entrance hallway was it. 

He was a little dumbfounded and only more so as he moved farther into the house. The hallway ended, along with the baffling wallpaper, in a space that was half living area and half kitchen, with a single wall separating the two lengthwise across the room. The carpeted floor of the living room featured one beat up looking leather couch with two beanbags on either side, yellow and blue. He posited that the green with pink flowers one he had seen in the trailer was a part of a matching set the three siblings had had. Behind the 2 foot tv, switch and play station mounted atop a driftwood table, on a weird wall-cutout of a shelf, was a row of different color and style lava lamps, all aglow in their multi-coloured, hypnotic glory. Along the edges of the room, push-pinned into the ceiling, were a set of beach party string lights. Besides the lava lamps and residual kitchen lighting, the tiny plastic flamingos, palm trees and flip-fliops were the only things illuminating the room. 

Nico's pace slowed as they entered the room. He was trying to take in the several dozens of vibes that this home was screaming at him so far. It was, from an artistic standpoint, a maximalist clusterfuck. A bookshelf to the left of the entertainment station was a dizzying array of medical textbooks, records, and knickknacks. Funko pops and various small whimsical instruments peppered almost every horizontal surface. The wall that separated this area from the kitchen was painted with blackboard paint, and there were doodles of everything from an abandoned game of hangman to a grocery list to what was clearly an outline of an actual person, their insides decorated with rough diagrams of the respiratory system and digestive tract, all in multi-coloured chalk. 

He parked himself just inside the archway, his mouth agape at never having seen the place Will called home. Will, noticing Nico's halting, looked back and saw this, his face suddenly flushing with slight embarrassment.

"Oh yeah, I guess it's kinda a lot to take in at first glance." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

"Yeah," Was all Nico could manage at first, but shortly continued with "but not is a bad way."

Will looked like he wanted to say more but Kayla was already emerging from the doorway on the other end of the room with a side-table and woven hanging terrarium stuffed with newspaper. 

"Once we get all the boxes I need help with the dresser and chair. The big one's got books so it's heavy." 

Nico took one last look at Will who still looked embarrassed and walked past him toward the room, grabbing his hand and squeezing it for reassurance as he passed.

True to their word, 40 minutes later, all frozen ears, noses and numb fingers, they had loaded the last thing into the trailer- a well-worn loveseat affectionately dubbed "Diane".

Kayla slammed the sliding door of the U-Haul down and clapped her hands together in a that's that gesture before turning to the two boys and nodding.

"Thanks for the help fellas, I really do appreciate not having to haul my frozen ass for an hour and a half all by myself, so I owe you both a drink." She had already started walking backwards up the sidewalk as she spoke to them. Nico scrunched up his nose, his breath making visible clouds when he exhaled.

"No worries, but I think it's a little cold for beers, so I'll pass." He took one step away from the pair, as if about to depart when Kayla stopped him.

"Who said anything about beers? Mama's makin' you a Kayla Classic Cocoa." She wiggled her eyebrows and Will beamed at him and grabbed his hand before he could get much farther.

"Oh you have got to try one of these. It's like Christmas in your mouth."

He quirked his eyebrow quizatively, and was still a little sheepish, but allowed himself to be pulled along as the two lead him back into the much warmer house. 

Kayla marched into the baby blue painted kitchen and immediately got to work firing up the kettle and pulling out glasses, hot cocoa mix, a frighteningly large glass jug of cinnamon whiskey, ground cinnamon, cool whip and peppermint sticks. Will hopped up on the counter, hitting his head against the front of one of the hanging cabinets and flinching. Nico sucked on his teeth sympathetically but Will swatted the invisible empathy away.

"It's ritualistic at this point. Doesn't even hurt."

Nico looked at him with a mix of confused, concerned amusement, but decided to let it go.

"So..." Nico said, leaning against the half wall, "how long have you guys lived here?"

Kayla and Will looked at each other and then Will leaned his head back against the cabinets as Kayla took the lead.

"Well I grew up in New York but if you're asking about this house, I've lived here for 4 years. Will and Austin moved in 2 years ago- has he ever told you about that?" She was pointing a spoon between the two boys. Nico shook his head no and Kayla smacked Will's thigh with the spoon. "The hell, you spend either all your time at work or with him and you don't even talk about us?" 

Will propped his head up to look at her with a smile. He shrugged.

"I like to listen."

She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Nico. 

"We always knew that our dad had other kids from his many failed marriages but a few years ago he got us all on a video call because he felt bad and said we ought to get to know each other a little. Austin and Will had already known each other because they were pretty close in age and went snooping before I did. After dad found an excuse to jump off the call we kinda just kept talking. Austin was looking for a music program in SoCal and Will had just been accepted to med school here at Colombia.

"Will mentioned really wanting to do it but never having left Texas and basically not knowing jack about moving to New York and I thought 'what the hell, I've never had a brother'. So I told him he could come move in with me-"

"We'd spoken maybe once before this, in passing basically, and she up and offers to house me while I start my residency," Will interjected.

"It was like maybe he'll murder me or maybe I'll murder him but either way, life was getting a little dull so why not, you know?" 

"I do not." Nico said, bemused. 

Kayla shrugged and went on.

"Anyway, Will agrees to move in, Austin asks if he can come too, I don't see why not since it would make rent cheaper and, yadda yadda, at long last these jamokes are losing their big sister to the adult world."

Will's head whipped up and he looked at his sister with horrified shock.

"Wait. Adult world? You mean to tell me that you and Oasis... BONE?!" His expression morphed into cartoonish anguish and he languished, "all this time I thought y'all were coloring and playing hopscotch in your room! To think you were doing the devil's dance!" 

Kayla flicked on the faucet and turned the shower nozzle on Will who shrieked and jumped off the counter, running around back to the other end of the kitchen where Nico was standing. He positioned himself so that Nico was a human shield against further aquatic assault and stuck his tongue out at her. She grinned and flipped him the bird.

She had also, it seemed, finished making their drinks. She plopped a peppermint stick in three glass mugs and handed Nico his cup. 

"Bon Appetit."

He could feel the heat of the beverage warming his poorly circulated hands. Atop the drink was a generous dollop of cool whip sprinkled with cinnamon. He sniffed the heated aroma wafting like ribbons of scent from the mug and took a cautious sip. It smelled spectacular. Flavors danced in his mouth. A rich, hot, dark chocolate cocoa with a spicy cinnamon kick and a hint of peppermint. 

"Mmm," Nico hummed into the mug. He looked up at Kayla's expectant face, a whipped cream mustache on his lip and said, "this is really good." 

Kayla smiled widely and for a moment, despite how truly different the two looked, he saw Will in her smile. He imagined that if that's the smile that suckered both of their parents, he could see why. 

The sound of the front door slamming shut drew their attention just then, and Kayla and Will in unison called out, "Au-STIN!"

"What up, what up!" They heard back and shortly thereafter, Austin himself appeared in the kitchen entryway. 

"Oh, Nico's here. What's up, man?" He extended a hand and before Nico really knew what was happening, he was being pulled into a handshake-hug. Released and a little dazed, he glanced at Will who just smiled at him and perched his head on top of Nico's. 

Austin looked between their three glasses and said,

"Is that a KCC?" Then turning to Kayla with exaggerated puppy dog eyes and hands clasped in a pleading beg, "Please tell me you-"

He didn't get any farther before she crossed to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a pitcher of a slushie-like drink that was a similar colour to their own.

"You think I would make KCCs and not make you a frozen one?"

Austin did a little dance in place while Kayla poured his glass and schlopped on his cool whip and cinnamon.

"How goes the kiddos?" Will asked him after a moment. 

This launched Austin into a rant about how his student teaching was going and how at any given time the only people who cared about his students succeeding were him and his student thanks to arts budgeting and parental conflicts.

Nico glanced at the three of them as Austin went on. They all seemed so relaxed in each other's presences, he almost felt like an intruder in their space. He began to shift awkwardly but, almost like he'd read his mind, Will brought a warm hand up and placed it on Nico's shoulder, beginning to squeeze and rub circles into his back with his thumb. Nico relaxed slightly and took another sip of his drink, discarding the thought and tuning back into the reason Kayla was laughing at Austin's story. 

At some point Nico pulled out his phone to check the time and was surprised to see that it was almost 4 o'clock. 

"Geez, it got late. I had better head out soon..." He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and started to get up from the couch where he had moved to when they'd traded kitchen counters for cushier seats.

Will sat up and looked at him from his yellow bean bag with a furrowed brow.

"Are you sure?" He looked very much as if he didn't want Nico to go. 

Nico opened his mouth but Kayla cut him off before he could get any words out.

"Yeah, wait, stay for dinner. I'll make Oasis bring us pizza." She took out her own phone and started typing away at it furiously. 

"Uh-" Nico tried again, but this time Austin spoke up,

"Stick around a little longer, man, we never get to hang out with you." 

This struck Nico as something bewildering. The idea that people who only know him through their brother wanted to, and actively expressed interest in, spending time with him seemed foreign to him. He had never thought of himself at being particularly good at making friends. Most of the time a group of people he's near just kind of decide he's part of them. That's what his oldest friends did, and even then, he was a little resistant to that at first. 

But here he was again, surrounded by these three siblings who were actively seeking his company. It felt... strange. Good. Comforting. Vulnerable.

He slowly sat back down and they cheered, which made him roll his eyes, despite the smile on his lips. 

Thirty minutes after that, they were all sitting on the floor of their living room, surrounded by paper plates speckled with the remnants of two delicious margarita pizzas. Oasis, a gorgeous 5'10" Korean-American woman with incredibly long and shiny black hair, lay across Kayla's legs with a PS4 controller in her hand, running her stealthily clad character around in a bustling Grecian city.

"How'd you get so good at this game, O?" Austin asked in awe.

"You underestimate how much time I spend on your guys' living room floor." She answered deadpanned. And then, "Plus, I like doing stealth murders and that's like 95% of the game."

Kayla ripped off a piece of the crust she was picking apart and threw it into the air, catching it in her mouth. 

"That's hot." She said, and Oasis smirked. "I'm going to get you this game just so I can watch you pull militia into bushes and eviscerate them." 

"Thanks, baby." Oasis said. Then, smacking Kayla lightly on the thigh, "Oh did you tell them about New Years?" 

"Oh, right," Kayla ripped off another piece of bread with her teeth. "We're doing our housewarming party on New Years Eve and you all are invited. It's going to be 20's themed so Austin has to wear his golden fedora." 

"Only if I can bring my sax." He said. 

"Deal, but if we get noise complaints, I am blaming you." Kayla put out a fist and Austin bumped it.

"You guys ever been there?" Nico asked. 

All four of them looked at him for a moment and he pointed back to the tv screen,  "Greece? It's really pretty." 

No one said anything for what felt to Nico like forever and his face began burning with embarrassment for having spoken, but then Will chimed in. 

"Nico grew up in Europe, guys." The room fell into a bout of 'oh yeahs' and 'I forgot he's from Italy'. 

"I went to Amsterdam once," Austin said, "They have like crazy tulips there." 

"God, I want to go to Europe," Kayla said wistfully, "put that on the list, babe. We'll go to Greece. And Scotland." 

"What's in Scotland?" Will asked, smirking with amusement.

"I don't know! Sheep!" Kayla threw a piece of crust at him.

"How does living in Italy compare to living in America?" Oasis asked Nico directly. In the little time he'd interacted with her, Nico had gathered that Oasis really liked asking people deep and personal questions about themselves. It's like she wanted to lay them out like a book before her and read them. 

"It's.." He tried to chuckled halfheartedly and then his face dropped a little, "it's different, for sure." He didn't elaborate. His words hung in the air, no one but he and Will quite sure why the atmosphere had gotten a little tenser. 

"Well," Austin broke the silence, "I don't know about you guys, but I feel like a little Mario Kart Tourney might spice things up right about now. O?"

"Hell yeah," Oasis said, saving her game and trading her controller for the detachable switch remotes, handing one to Austin. Kayla reached around the other side of the tv and procured two additional controllers. She tossed one to Will who offered it to Nico. 

"It would be an honor to watch you smoke their asses." He said with a smile. Nico rolled his eyes and took the controller. Then he paused, pondering it for a moment before deciding to lean into the reoccurring theme of the night which was existing shamelessly around new friends. He scooted closer to Will, nudging his leg out of the way until they both adjusted and he sat fully between Will's legs leaning back against his chest. Will rested his hands on Nico's hips, letting out a contented sigh that shuddered down Nico's spine. If the other three noticed them, they didn't seem to care.

Nico did indeed smoke their asses and after a few more KCCs and two Grand Prixs, Nico was smiling a dopey, slightly boozy smile as Austin and Oasis arguing over what track to choose so that any of them might have a chance against Nico.

The doorbell rang and Oasis and Austin didn't stop talking over each other, so Kayla handed her controller to Will and got up to answer it. They heard the door open and then Kayla's surprised voice.

"Oh, uh, hi..." Will and Nico heard her say from down the hall, "Come- come in, it's freezing outside. Will!" She called out to him, her exact emotion undetectable.

Will looked at Nico who quirked an eyebrow. He shrugged as if to say 'I don't know who it is' before pushing himself up and out from behind Nico and heading toward the hallway.

Shortly after he disappeared around the corner he heard an unfamiliar woman's voice.

"Hey, baby." Her uncertain voice dripped with a sweet southern twang and you could hear the smile on her lips. 

"Wha... what are you doing here?" Nico heard Will say slowly, not accusatory, but not with buckets of enthusiasm either.

That was enough to peak his curiosity. Nico rose from his spot, dropping his controller onto the couch behind him and walking to the doorway leading to the foyer. He peaked in and saw a woman just a bit shorter than Will embracing him. Snow dotted her honey-blonde curls that fell around her shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed closed as she hugged him tighter. 

Nico made eye contact with Kayla, who was also watching the encounter from by the front door, her expression one of slight disbelief. Nico felt like he was missing something. 

The woman opened her eyes and saw Nico looking at them.

"Oh dear," She said, releasing Will and holding him at an arm's length, "I didn't realize you had guests over." She sidestepped him a bit so she could fully see Nico and waved at him, smiling, "Hello there." 

Now that Nico had a full view of her face it was clear as day. Her face was warm and inviting, her smile lines and crows feet hard to distinguish among the freckles that generously peppered her face like the snow in her hair, clear and abundant. Her blue eyes twinkled like she knew everything about him just by looking at him. 

Will turned to see Nico watching them and blinked. He looked utterly shocked and confused, not unlike how Nico felt, but he shook his head and he stuttered out an introduction. 

"Oh, u-uh, this is Nico," He gestured to the boy standing in the doorway who awkwardly waved back. 

"And, uh, Nico," Will said, meeting his eyes in a silent plea before finishing his statement, "this is my mother."

#anotha one #this was one of my favorite chapters yet #i don't think it beats the greatest first date in the world though #fanfic #solangelo #will solace #nico di Angelo #soulmate au #pjo #hoo #katealot #LikeTheBackOfMyHand #fanfiction #katealot writes #Doctor!Will Solace #Artist!Nico Di Angelo #Like The Back Of My Hand #likethebackofmyhand

[fantomemangeurdelivres]

we remain incorrigible - Alok V Menon

This is my favorite poem ever <3 so I'm sharing the love :

"

the body is not a fleshy prison for the spirit. we transcend the arbitrary boundaries drawn around our skin. we are so much more than the physical. our bodies are just mere suggestions, not ordained truths.

truth is polyamorous. time is, too, we are connected to the past, the future, the present, the people we are, the people we love, the world that surrounds us, is us. invisibility is not an objective state, it is a lack of ambition. just because you don’t see us as us doesn’t mean we are not real. reality surpasses vision. our imagination is malnourished by a world that limits our potential to our ability to work + not our ability to love, one that relegates dreaming to our sleeping.

what if we were to dream while awake? the hyper individuation of the west crumbles beneath our feet + in our lungs. we desire past the confines of the now. we reject their reason, and instead we are honest — painfully so — in our feelings. that behind every fact is a carousel of feelings. behind every law is a panic attack. behind every judge, and every doctor, and every politician is a broken heart. we yearn desperately for an otherwise. we begin that otherwise by surrendering to the complexity of ourselves + everyone around us. we use science to appreciate our potential, not restrict it. biology proliferates not imprisons. the natural disposition of the world is infinity. we are oriented towards multifaceted universes that exist beyond comprehension. we resist being known, we insist on being experienced regardless of reason. there are as many ways to exist as there are existences. everything lives: the stone beneath our feet, the clouds above us. nothing dies — it just transforms. it goes elsewhere. we are the descendants of elsewhere. star dust, skin cells, stray dreams. we spill outside of the containers they filter us through. we remain incorrigible, impure, and delightfully contaminated. porous + welcoming of all the transitions, the refugees, the becomings, the future, the now.

"

Please go show love to the amazing atist that is Alok. Their Instagram is amazing, full of inspiration and book recs/analysis ! + their Goodreads page

#degender #lgbtqia #gender queer #queerness #poem #favorite poems #trans poetry #gender poetry #alok vaid menon #queer artist #queer #queer community #pride #queer pride

[simp-ly-writes]

Returning to Home-Base (pt.2, v.2)

PSA: This can be read as a standalone; yet it is recommended that you read pt.1 and pt. 2 v.1 for the full emotional hit (linked blow).

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, & Task Force 141 (+ Laswell)

Summary: Guilt is easting Simon alive when he is late upon arrival and it multiplies when he realizes the apartment is a bit too quiet.

Warnings: 3263 words, death, gore, panic attack, crying, family trauma, mentions of abuse, overall angst yet there is healing by the end.

A/N: might have to retire after this one; idk how I would top it lol; but shit is gonna go down in this more happy ending, hope you guys enjoy! (this is the longest standalone i've ever written - reference to "clean house").

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Returning to Home-Base Series (pt.1) (pt.2, v.1) (pt.2, v.2) you are here

Ghost's POV

Guilt.

It was flowing through Simons veins as he came out of the hanger days later, drenched in blood; a mixture of the misfortunate and his own with an arm in a haphazard sling. Ghost ducked under the doorframe and was currently sitting in the medical tent; staring at a picture of you from his tactical vest.

72 hours he was delayed from returning home after months of deployment and the doctor was only adding to it when they commented on your features a dark stare was all he received as reply. Their hands shook while re-applying the bandages and guiding the pen across the release form.

Moving back down the never-ending halls of poster propaganda and harsh lights in hope's of a easy lift home from Price; Simon almost broke his other hand while trying not to punch out Soaps sympathetic face when Laswell demanded for an after action review.

--

Paper after paper; signatures rushed across the pages just as often as information was being blacked out. Laswell and Price were in a shitting match with one another over some minuscule compromise of plans and eventually the hum of an engine had been the sign for Simon to let out a breath.

they hate me- I deserve this treatment. Rung through Simons head as he gripped the cars frame; he had a growing feeling that you were done with him; his shit, his inability to sleep; constantly forgetting to water the dining room plant. The list continued in his head as he could imagine it going down the road.

The ring in his pant pocket was beginning to grow heavier as the last few turns signified the arrival back home; a hand gripping his good shoulder snapped Simon out of his spiral as John looked towards his work partner with a knowing look in his eyes.

Ghost looked down to see the ring laying across his finger; a symbol of what Simon wanted ever so desperately with you, if only you didn't hate me like I know you will, he thought to himself.

Fate has its reasons Riley; and you know better than anyone else that those reasons are within her. Price said, smiling back lightly before shoving Simon out of the car and speeding off into the distance to meet his spouse back at home.

As Simon moved towards the complex; he couldn't help but notice the grocer down the street and when the sound of keys becoming fumbled by the white roses blocking his face. The apartment door was opened and closed by the back of a boot.

Setting the floral display down on the entrance table; Ghost moved inside to drop off the duffle bag in the living room before returning to take off his boots and pick up the flowers.

Simon moved his mouth to shout out your name into the dark house; yet though again; worried that you were resting or focused on your work late at night; deciding to refrain from doing so.

Moving into the kitchen first; Simon looked into the fridge for a refreshment; only to become confused when the groceries inside seemed to be untouched, the leftovers gone off. Closing the fridge he looked to the table in the corner to see one mug of coffee; just barley drank and felt icily cold as the wash that ran through Simons veins.

Pivoting while smacking his bandaged arm against the frame and swearing out into the darkness; he moved in large strides to the bedroom only to find the sheets undone and empty; your phone still charging by the bedside as he thoughtfully looked at the screen saver light up of you both on a road trip from a couple of years ago.

Your mother had left multiple text messages that were all left unread too; odd, Simon knew you both to be close; His finger hovering over Prices name in the contacts list.

Feeling around the beds surface for any more clues as to your whereabouts; he finds one of his hoodies laid across the foot of the bed- freshly washed alongside some of your items. Breathing becoming heavier as he bashes himself against the walls of the hall and past an empty bathroom.

Now into a sprint; he looks for your shoes, eyes sporadically move across the apartment as his hands shook in the closet to find both runners still there.

Backing up he hears a crunch under his left foot, then begins to feel wetness spreading against the floorboards. Looking down he see's a smiling face mug staring back at him; fractured against the boards as blood pours out of his foot.

The ringing in Simons ears becomes deathly as he barely hears Price shouts down the phone line as Ghost's frame slides down the wall, phone falling against the remains of your obvious struggle as tears stream down his face.

--

The sound of a door being bashed through awakes Simon's body's state of despair. The ring in his pocket long forgotten as his heart screams out in pain; he didn't realize that his yells were vocalized once he see's Gaz's face scrunch up and wince. As the other two squad members walk through the apartment; weapons high.

Once cleared; they kneel beside and make eye-contact for a moment before Simons eyes stare at himself through the mirror. Fists become tightened as his arm screams out in discomfort.

I'll make them bleed. Ghost whispers under their breath as if in a prayer, I'll make then FUCKING BLEED he yells out into Soap's equally angered face and a determined nod is shared throughout.

Simon takes one last look at the apartment; at the polaroid of you both on the table before going to the underground carpool and slamming the car door close. The group meets back up with Laswell on base with an intelligence briefing.

Laswell shivers as her eyes meet the Sergeant's in the doorframe, he casts a shadow of vengeance as his eyes scream desperately for revenge in their irises before making his way to stand in the corner and observes as multiple founders are presented against the screen; one face catches his memory just as Soap's finger is plastered across the picture in question and soon enough a target was placed.

--

Restless was the group readying their gear in the van as the other breaching squad trailed behind. Price checked the mirrors and adjusted himself in his seat as Ghost could hear Soap angrily ramble behind him from the front seat. Gaz sat quietly with his thoughts; yet the tension was obvious in the way he was latching on to his gun much similar to the way Ghosts hands squeezed the grip of his own.

Pulling the van over into a nearby alleyway, both squad captain's quickly went over positioning as soon the lights on the street went out. A fence cut through and NODS on. The basement door was entered as task force 141 cleared the level before moving to the main-floor; the assisting squad had neutralized the area with one man down in the hall for medical-evac as they both made their way upstairs.

A few hand signals later, and gunshots wizzed past Ghost's ears as each shot stitched a part of his heart back together, second floor cleared, echoed through the communication chain; only two floors remained of the building. Simon could feel his hope rising in his chest- he was getting closer to you.

A scream echoed through the house as the blood stilled in Ghost's body; almost faltering his steps on the stairs as Price reminded him of a clear head down the line. Breathing in and out; Ghost breached the door open and fired once more on target; west room cleared moving to the central bathroom.

A shot bounced off of Ghost's vest that reminded himself of the possibilities of being so close yet so far to coming home with you. He placed lead through the receivers head and heart; a symbol of obvious revenge. Nothing yet a grunt of silent anguish left their mouth before Ghost moved into the next room where Gaz was restraining a member for later questioning, giving one another a nod they moved forward.

The assisting squad moved out to further secure the perimeter of the building as the sun began to rise and look for further intelligence to report back.

third floor cleared, moving to fourth. The steps creaked under the combined weight of gear, tapping Prices shoulder he wedged the room open and the squad rolled through. Moving to the right side with Soap at his left and Gaz covering the centre. Price followed swiftly as shots echoed off the walls and moved towards the final door down the hall.

Light could be seen coming out from underneath as grunts and whispers were muffled behind the wood. Ghost shifted his gun as he noticed Soaps foot grind into the hallway's carpet runner.

One.

Two.

Three.

BANG.

The door rolled off its hinges as the squad noticed five figures in the room; one with a knife glittering in the rising light and two others with gun muzzles moving upwards.

Price kept an eye on the rear for a possible counter attack as Gaz and Soap moved in and neutralized the others and scanned the room.

DROP THE KNIFE, GET ON THE FLOOR, DROP YOUR FUCKING WEAPON- DOWN ON THE FUCKING FLOOR NOW, Ghost yelled while storming towards the standing figure; hand flying out to stab his shoulder, Ghost swept under the feet and moved to the floor; twisting their hand to release the weapon and kicking it aside.

A kick was received to Simons bandaged arm in revenge; Ghost groaned out before matching with a punch to their neck. Chocking and crawling back they grabbed for the knife and moved to stab Ghost's thigh.

Soap layed a shot to their shoulder just in time as they reeled back their motions to grasp at their bleeding form. Ghost picked up the blade before placing it in a slot upon his vest and scanned the room; his eyes hardening at seeing your figure hunched over while tired to a metal chair; Gaz already starting to medically look you over and calling over the radio for assistance.

You motherfucker, I should have killed you when I had the chance. Ghost said while whipping around to face and punched the figure in question straight against the jaw; a tooth of theirs flying against the wall and falling on to the floor beside Price's boot. Soap stood beside Ghost; fists clenching and teeth grinding for a piece of your father.

Breathing out your father met their eyes; challenging both men to do their worst. You really should have, but you were always too weak when it came to family- isn't that right Riley? and aren't you sick of always being chosen second, johnny-boy? even when it came to my daughter you never quite did enough, he laughs into the darkening atmosphere of the room.

Soap kicks the man down to lay against the floor, moving towards their throat. While Price clears his throat before moving his head towards Gaz trying to pick the locks and unchain you from the chair; snapping Soap out of his entranced state as he looks at your father; dead in his eyes,

I will never have to second-guess anything; especially when it comes to your daughter for when she says that I do the work of millions I believe her and get to gain the one thing I have always wanted; family in my closet of partners- something that other people did not see worth in you to commit to without being payed, what a pity to always come last in life hm? and now you get to die in it.

Soap kicked their chest to hear your father heave one last time before patting Ghost on the shoulder and moving to help Gaz as Price communicated for evacuation vehicles before the press arose for the morning.

The rising sun dripped off of Ghost's shoulders as he looked down at what would be a corpse of a distant memory to join the many others in the depths of mind. Memories that would become lost with the simple traces of your touch to his skin.

Meeting your fathers eyes and neutral faced, may I die weak in the eyes of many; yet never alone in the ones that count, Ghost spoke out before moving the muzzle of his gun between their eyes and pressed down- hard. He watched the life instantly be swept away from this planet as the body collapsed onto the floor. The blood already dripping through the creaks of the floorboards. The bottoms of Ghosts black work-boots becoming sticky as he let a breath out and returned the gun back to his chest rig. Closing his eyes at the feeling of the sun caressing his neck through the mask. He turned down the hall to see Price waiting for him by the stairs; giving a much needed hug.

Gaz and Price sat up front while in the back of the van; Simon held your hand in his lap as he diligently watched the field medic check for any internal bleeding on the way to the hospital. You were shivering but your breathing was thankfully rolling in regular intervals. Soap looked to Simon who simply nodded in reply and that was all that needed to be exchanged.

--

While sitting in the ward and then brought to a personal room once the over 6ft, skull masked man scared too much of the public. Simon sat by your bedside for hours; awaiting your presence as he watched the liquid IV drip in the bag.

The rest of the squad and Laswell with her wife had shown up with flowers and supplies for once you had awaken; Simon thought of the forgotten white roses set in the kitchen only 24 hours ago and how much had changed since then.

--

Hours passed into night as you awoke to a dark room; shuttering at the thought of being tied to that chair your body jolted and then steadying as you recognised the tattooed arm that laid across your stomach and looked towards your skull covered man sleeping in the chair by your bedside; snoring lightly.

You smiled to yourself as you traced the outlines of the tattoos; frowning when you noticed the bandage poking out from under his shirt, you cooed Simon lightly into the room, brushing your fingers across the outline of his cheek and removing your hand abruptly as he stood to full attention and pulled out a gun from the waistband of his jeans.

Sushing the man in slight horror of the weapon coming into your face; you calmed as he placed it back in the holster and cupped your cheeks, leaning down to kiss your forehead as you felt tears falling and meeting your own down your face.

Simon moved back and began to rattle off an apology while looking towards the floor, refusing to meet your eyes as his boots shifted against the tiles. I love you, Simon Riley, you whisper-shouted into the dim room as you heard Simon choke back a sob, standing there still and closing his eyes.

I love you, Simon Riley... you repeated through the tear stained vocal cords once more. You moved over and patted the place beside you, feeling the bed dip as large heavy arms wrapped around your form in the most comforting weighted blanket.

I love you and I understand.

no.

no?

It was never right of me to be so distant... Simon begins to speak, eyes trailing towards his jacket back on the chair before looking at you once more,

I am forever thankful that you accept the work that I do, the decisions I make and how much you know this job means to me. I've always admired the strength that you held within yourself, and your sureness that makes me feel protected; the ability to release myself of everything... I feel at home with you near...

He takes a breath before continuing,

What I mean to sat is that I was worried... that is why I have been so uncharacteristically untalkative...

You chuckled lightly at the comment before continuing to listen thoughtfully.

I guess what I have been meaning to say is that, I want to marry you if you would have me?

Simon reaches over to his coat, hands shaking once more as you rub circles into his large thigh touching your own; shock mixed excitement coursing through your veins. I was worried that if I looked at you for a moment too long or talked with you over something as small as snacks at the gas station. I would fall in love with you all over again, get myself on one knee somewhere horrid like a public restroom and not think twice in the moment.

Your chuckles turned into full roaring laughs as Simon covered your mouth with his large hand and held apologetic eyes as he whispered on how you both should not wake up the ward.

Standing up one more, you giggled as he got down on one knee and your breath caught at the sight of the ring in front of you. Simple yet elegant; the one you have dreamed about since dating Simon all those years ago.

Putting a finger to your chin and tapping; Simon grumbled about his knees becoming sore before you turned back and whispered yes against his lips before pulling him into a kiss.

Falling back into bed together, you watched the ring shimmer hopefully in your face. You smiled up at Simon as he kissed you once more before pulling the blankets on top of you both and cradling you into his chest. You sighed happily as the night faded into the morning of a clearer future- together.

--

Extra:

THANK FUCK, echoed through the room causing you to rise wide awake as you heard Simon hiss back at Soap. Gaz tried to hide a snicker behind his cap as he turned to face the wall; shoulders patterned in rising and falling motions.

John and Laswell both were staring happily as the scene unfolded and they gossiped about their own spouses and reminisced about their weddings.

You showed the entire task force the ring, waving it joyfully as John came up to your beside and said, We could all see the light in his eyes as he spoke about you no matter the situation, drunk at the bar, waiting in the hangar, or driving to the next checkpoint. Fate always has it's reasons to love. Finishing the sentiment with a pat to your ring covered hand before moving in for an a group hug; you smiled bright.

Then a flicker caught out of the corner of your eye and you noticed as Laswell's wife had came into a room and captured the beautiful moment; mouthing thank you to her. She looked towards Ghost thoughtfully and all the happy faces that covered the room before looking back towards you and mouthed, thank you in return.

A bit confused from the interaction, you moved forward and pulled Simon's face closer to you; kissing his cheek as the rest of the group complained and moved away to back out of the room while waving their goodbyes and voicing their demands for wedding invitations down the hall.

Simon pushed the button for the doctor as soon as the room cleared out and you asked, did you water the plant in the dining room?

╰┈➤ A/N: Thats all she wrote folks! what an emotional journey it has been, I have loved each and every one of your comments; they truly inspired my to continue this into this series. Don't know what I'll be writing quite next, but let's see! Thank you all so much once again, I hope you all loved reading this as much as I did writing it... in one night hahaha. (psst! if you want an epilogue or something else or more lol; let me know~).

Returning to Home-Base Series (pt.1) (pt.2, v.1) (pt.2, v.2) you are here

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x y/n #simon ghost x you #call of duty #simon ghost riley imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod mw #cod #cod fandom #angst #cod angst #simp-ly-writes #simp-ly