#maybe the thing here is to lean into him being cynical

[zmediaoutlet]

abandoned(?) wip: the cult fic

Here's one that I really really really want to write because it was for a charity run and it is NOT the fault of the fic or the donator that I got hit with a depression meteor, nor indeed that somehow it was 'easier' to write a bunch of other fics instead of the charity fics that I still owe!! Ugh. The self is a real garbage pit sometimes. So hopefully let's call this one dormant and not abandoned, and so --

Big Idea: which isn't mine, bc charity fic as aforementioned, but -- Jared runs a cult and Jensen joins and there's lots of sexy sex. Pretty much. :) But because it's a cult fic, I really wanted to dive into that, which required plot [spits on floor], and it's really more now about like... lost youth getting wrapped up into a personality & lifestyle just for somewhere to belong. Like cult stories always go. It's an unusual fic for me in that I'd normally never do ageswap (even with J2 -- I prefer to keep them as is) and I don't actually have much interest in irl cults, but it's interesting as a stretch in that sense.

Why it was abandoned: because plot!!! Ugh. Plot is the worst, idk how people are like 'ooh I wanna get all involved in this murder mystery'. Yack. But if it's gonna have a plot it's got to work, and it also has to have a bunch of legible and interesting and not-quirky-stand-in characters -- like I want it to read like actual humans, not goofy nonsense a la the cult in Bad Times at the El Royale. So that requires some genuine thought and time put in and probably even a chart, and... #lazy writer noises. But I have some random scenes I think might be good already planned. Trouble would be if I could make Jared-the-cult-leader seem believable and not just like a doofy romance novel figure. My personal trouble with cults is that whenever someone's holding themselves up as a leader because of whatever mystical whatever I'm like, this motherfucker? Are y'all kidding? So I'll have to get over that instinct, lol.

Snippet:

"He renamed it when we came," Allie says, easy. She taps her thumb on the steering wheel, smiling. "He said Wildheart was more right, for what we were going to be." Jensen nods but he has no idea what that means. Whatever the name was before, the wild part at least is right. His grandpa had a farm, outside Dallas, and that was all neat rows, trimmed up hedges, smoothed-out roads with everything exactly in place. Jensen didn't mind it—driving it was easier, he thinks, as they're jolted by the Volkswagen rocking over yet another huge tree root—but it was… Well, it doesn't matter. He'll never see that farm again. He's about to ask another question when Allie turns, again, and the screen of oaks gives sudden way to—open air, a field. The sky opens up above them and Jensen leans forward, trying to see everything. They're on a dirt drive and there are—people, young, maybe his age or maybe Allie's, on the grounds on either side of the drive, working squared-off garden plots—tomatoes, in chickenwire cages. More that Jensen doesn't recognize as they roll past. A boy with red hair waves at the car and Allie waves back, grinning. "Good to be home," she says, to Jensen. Home, Jensen thinks, and chews his thumbnail, scanning the grounds. A medium-sized house, at the end of the lane, painted a faded yellow that needs redoing. On the west side of the house Allie pulls the Volkswagen up next to a purple Gremlin with messy handpainted yellow flowers on the rear hatch, a Cadillac with a rusted-out door and some kind of viney plant spilling out of the broken back window. "C'mon," Allie says, turning off the engine, so Jensen takes a deep breath and gets out of the car into the sunshine, holding his duffle up against his chest, looking around. No one's running up to bug them—the dozen people gardening are still gardening, down by the lane—and Allie flips her keys into her palm, comes around the hood of the car, touches his arm, soft. "Nothing be scared of, sweetie," she says, quiet even though it's just the two of them, and Jensen—believes her. He has to. He wouldn't have gotten into her car, otherwise.

#my writing #abandoned wips #jensen the naif is also not something i'd usually write #i like him cynical from the jump #maybe the thing here is to lean into him being cynical #but so lonely and frightened that the cult thing just... #drags him under #like the tide pulling sand from under your feet #hm that might help

[lovebugism]

I know this is early, but fights on Christmas for the prompts thingy. Maybe with Punchy x Eddie? Or with Steve?

ty for requesting angel! hope u like it :D — eddie tells you that his dad is coming to hawkins for christmas and an argument ensues (peach x eddie, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The smell of a homecooked dinner lingers in the air, warm and nostalgic. You spoon the leftovers into plastic containers for when Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift. Eddie’s laughter sounds from the distance, where he takes a phone call in the living room. The sound is warmer. More nostalgic.

He hangs up and walks back to you, wearing a bright pink grin that shows all his teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, smiling because he is.

Eddie shrugs, trying to be nonchalant despite his beaming. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter across from you. “That was— That was my dad, actually,” he tells you, still a bit dazed about the whole thing. He’d almost forgotten what his father’s voice sounded like before now.

Your grin fades. “…What?”

He nods with his brows raised behind his fluffy bangs. “Yeah. He’s, uh— He wants to come to Hawkins for Christmas, apparently. Said he’s finally got some time off work, so he’s gonna drive up here in a few days and stay for a while.”

Work doesn’t mean work — not with Alan, anyway. You know this, so you’re not entirely sure why Eddie doesn’t. If you had to guess, the asshole got up to too much trouble and needs a place to lay low until it all dies down.

You try to be supportive of your smiling boy, but your concern is evident, practically dripping from your features. “Oh. That’s… That’s… Does Wayne know?”

“Um, I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Don’t you know why that is?” you ask him, trying to laugh. It comes out much more bitter than you intended it to.

“Uh… No?”

You drop the wooden spoon into the bowl and face him entirely. Your hip digs into the counter’s edge — a distant pain that doesn’t rival your burning anger. “He’s not telling Wayne because he knows Wayne won’t let him stay.”

Eddie’s chin jerks back like he’s flinching. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says with a forced chuckle.

You sigh. You don’t want to be insensitive, but his obliviousness makes you impatient. 

“Eddie… He’s… Your dad…” You try to explain it all to him, but you can’t find the words to. There are far too many ways to describe his father, and you come up short in the end. “I mean— you’re not letting him come, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he laughs.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to see you, Eddie. Or Wayne— He doesn’t care about either of you, you know that.”

Eddie goes agape with shock. You’re not usually so confrontational. You’re unusually argumentative, and it surprises him — offends him. “You say that like you know anything about him,” he argues with a scoff. He’s still smiling but there’s little warmth behind it.

“You don’t know anything about him!” you retort, a little harsher than you mean to. Your hands flail as you gesture wildly. “He doesn’t know anything about you, either, Eddie. He’s an addict. He chose thatover you a long time ago.”

Eddie clenches his teeth. You can see it in the way his temples shift. “I told you that because I trusted you,” he says with a tight jaw, trying not to show you how angry he is. “Not for you to use against me—”

“I’m not using it against you, Eddie. I’m trying to protect you!”

He scoffs a cynical laugh. “Well, you’re doing an awful good job of that, aren’t you, Peach?”

His unusual bitterness stings somewhere deep in your chest. 

You don’t know why he’s being so blind. 

Except, you sorta do. You’re the resident expert of letting assholes into your life over and over and over again — like a kicked puppy that doesn’t know when to stop coming back.

That’s the root of your frustration, you think. You know a lot more than he’s giving you credit for, and it’s infuriating to be written off so easily.

You huff and turn away from him again. You pop the lids onto the tupperware containers to busy your trembling hands. “Fine. Let him come. I don’t care. I’m not the one that’s gonna get my heart broken after all this.”

“Wow,” Eddie muses, dragging the vowel for effect. “That’s real sweet, babe— what would I do without you?”

You leave the bowls to cool on the container and disappear down the hallway. You go to his bedroom for your bag, and he doesn’t follow behind you — you’re not sure you want him to. After nearly a week in the trailer, you figure you’ve spent entirely too much time together. 

And as much as it hurts, you know it’s not the end of the world.

If you and Eddie — the neurotic type A and the laid-back-to-a-fault type B — can survive hanging up  Christmas decorations together, you’re pretty sure your relationship can survive just about anything.

He’s still lingering at the counter when you get back, idling like he’s been waiting for your return. He sees your bag slung over your shoulder and deflates like a popped balloon. “Where are you going?” he wonders despite his ebbing anger.

“Home. It’s getting late.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“Exactly,” you hum, stilling when you reach his side. You press a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek and walk towards the door without looking back. “Call me when you tell Wayne.”

“C’mon, Peach. You don’t have to go.”

You turn back with your hand on the rusted brass door knob. “I’m mad at you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips.

Eddie grins back at you but doesn’t press it any further. You’re allowed to be angry. Hell, he’s still a little angry, too. And if you wanna be alone, then so be it — as long as you’re back in his bed when all the bullshit’s over with.

‘Cause he’s mature and everything like that now.

That’s why he just smiles as he tells you, “Call me when you get home.”

—————

You call him when you get home that night.

He calls you the next morning when Wayne gets home, all worked up because his uncle took the news about as well as you did. 

You’re not a total asshole, so you don’t rub it in his face. When he comes to you after a few more days have passed — fighting back tears because his dad ditched him all over again — there are no I told you so’s. No bitterness or stupid comebacks. 

You just hold him and love on him like you always do. He needs that now more than ever, you figure.

You sit with him on your couch while he hides his tears in your lap. His dirty sneakers scuff the cushions that you’re usually a stickler about keeping clean. You quickly find that you don’t care as much as you thought you did, because you’ve never seen your boy so sad. 

It makes your chest ache. Like his heartache is your own in some way.

“I’m an idiot,” Eddie grouses, muffled into the pillow in your lap. He feels like one, anyway. He’s spending the week before Christmas crying his eyes out because he was too stubborn to listen to you. 

He’s a total dumbass. 

The dumbest of dumbasses.

Your fingers dance through the soft strands of his chestnut hair, scratching gently at his scalp to keep him grounded. “No, you’re not, Eds. Your dad’s just an asshole.”

He scoffs, managing a small laugh despite his tear-stained face. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s not your fault, either. You know that.”

“No, I know,” he insists, sniffling as he turns onto his back. His chocolate eyes are rimmed red and slightly glassy. His cheeks are softly flushed, speckled with a rosy heat. Strands of hair stick to his wet jaw. You smooth them away with the palm of your hand while he wipes at his reddened nose with the back of his.

“I just… I guess I just thought he’d changed, you know?” he confesses, voice wet with emotion.

You nod sympathetically. “I know. It’s the worst feeling in the fucking world.”

You have a different kind of experience in that department — the skeleton in your closet that always comes back to haunt you department. For you, it’s Billy. For Eddie, it’s Alan. The sting is a different one, but it still hurts in the same place.

“I should’ve listened to you, huh?” Eddie asks, the corner of his lips curled into a sad smile.

“I know why you didn’t want to,” you assure, smoothing your palm over the top of his wild head. You hope the warmth of your touch will aid his inevitable post-cry headache. “But I didn’t say it to hurt your feelings, you know that, right?”

“I know. I knew it then, too, I just… didn’t want to believe it, I guess.”

“I know what it’s like,” you promise. And then, when you see his mouth twist into an apology, you cut him off as gently as you can. “And don’t apologize for it, either. It’s okay, Eds. I promise.”

He grins at you, still a bit weighed down with leftover emotion. 

His eyes squeeze shut when you swipe tears from beneath them, the edges of them crinkling ever so slightly. And when he opens them again, they glimmer with a newfound life. 

No one on earth is as resilient as your boy.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I'm not me anymore (and maybe you're not you)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.6k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (happy ending)

warnings: reader is almost mugged and has zero self-preservation instincts but everything works out, jason doesn't know how to handle being in love, lots of talk of reader grieving jason after his death but it's fine because he's back, reader is vaguely / generally physically unwell

a/n: is this too similar to my dick grayson story? probably but we'll all just have to deal with that, tell me you still like it or I'll cry

It's late - too late for someone like you to be outside in Gotham. But sleep was hard to come by for you and working through the night meant regular trips to the bodega around the corner. You walked back to your apartment complex slowly, stepping one foot pointedly in front of the other as you sipped your energy drink. 

You heard Jason's voice in your head as you walked, slipping into an alley that provided a handy shortcut. 'Avoid the back alleys,' he'd said. 'I want you to be safe.'

And then you died, you thought bitterly. And now you're here but you won't actually be here for me and I had to learn to keep myself safe. And, my god, I'm tired of being safe.

Maybe it was stupid, the way you slouched against the brick wall and took a swig of your drink as the man stood in front of you, knife blade gleaming in the darkness and voice spitting threats and not-so requests for your money. 

You didn't even have a chance to respond, though, before Redhood himself dropped down behind him and put him down.

Jason. Jason. Jason.

But it wasn't Jason who walked towards you, you thought wearily. It was Redhood. And he was angry.

"You didn't even wait for the fun part," you drawled and his fists clenched.

"I'm walking you home," he said gruffly before turning and stomping down the alley, leaving you to follow him.

The two of you stopped by the entrance of your apartment building and you looked up at him, waiting for him to either talk or flee.

"You know you shouldn't be out this late. You're being reckless," he says stiffly.

"I want to talk to you," you respond. "Properly… preferably when I can see your face."

"I'm… working right now."

"Well yes," you sigh, "but presumably you stop at some point. Come by after. Please. I'll only ask you for this one thing." He straightens at that, a surprised sort of gesture, before reaching his hand towards you as if to cup your cheek the way he so often used to. He seemed to think better of it halfway through, though, as he let his hand drop back to his side.

"You can always ask me for what you need. I'm here. I'll… I'll be here."

"So be here. Whenever you're done, come by. I'll be awake." You don't let him respond to that, slipping through the door of your building and pointedly not looking back.

Just as you'd promised, by the time Redhood is standing on your balcony tapping gently on the glass, you're still awake. You look up from your laptop and gesture for him to come in, and he does, pulling his helmet off and sliding the glass door closed behind him before pointedly locking it.

"You shouldn't leave that unlocked. Anyone could get in here," he scolds as he comes to stand in front of you, eyeing the way you sit straight-backed on your couch.

You shrug. "It doesn't bother me." Jason opens his mouth to respond as his fists clench, and your eyes flicker to the duffle bag he has slung across his shoulder.

"You can shower first if you want," you say, nodding your head towards your hall. "I'm in no rush." Jason doesn't move, though. He stands, his eyes tracing over you silently in a way that makes you lean back from his gaze.

"You haven't slept yet?" he asks.

"Neither have you," you shoot back. He huffs and tightens his grip on the helmet in his hand.

"I'll be quick," is all he offers before stomping down your hallway towards your bathroom.

Sure enough, it's not long before he's padding back into your living room, t-shirt and sweats replacing his Redhood gear and hair damp and curling. You close your laptop and set it on the coffee table when he comes in, sitting across from you on the couch.

"Should I start?" you say quietly. "Or do you want to?"

"I'm sorry," he offers gently, and you feel the air leave your lungs a bit. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you when I got back. I'm sorry you had to be the one to call Bruce and find out what happened from him. I just…"

"It's ok, Jay." Your smile is small and sad and makes Jason's fingers twitch in an effort not to reach for you. "I left. I never expected you to chase me. And I didn't… I took my time coming back, you know. It's ok."

"Are you… back?" Jason asks tentatively, shifting where he sits. "Are you staying?"

You shrug. "I bought an apartment, didn't I?"

"That's not an answer."

"Well, I didn't call you here to talk about my life plans."

"What do you want to talk about, then?"

"I just… want to know what you want from me?"

"What?" Jason asks, bewilderment clear in his voice. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Jay," you sigh. "I know you're around, watching me, looking out for me. But… I've been back in Gotham for a month and that's all you've done. I just want to know what you want."

Jason sights, a little oh escaping his lips as he slumps down into the couch cushions. 

"Nothing changed for me," he explains quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the empty space between the two of you. "There was you, always, and then I died. I came back… and it was still you. It wasn't… it hadn't been three years for me. Not really."

"I understand," you soothe gently.

"But - for you it was. For you, three years had passed and your boyfriend was dead and you moved away and I - I had to assume that was so you could build a new life for yourself and… I was there. I heard you on the phone that night with Bruce, saying you missed Gotham with or without me." You inhale sharply at Jason's words and he looks at you with big eyes.

"Hey, no -" he says quickly. "I'm not mad, baby. Never. I'm never mad at you. I just… I thought maybe you'd moved on. It would make sense for you to move on. But then you came back and I saw you and…" Jason trails off, looking you up and down again and you can't help but shrink back ever so slightly, aware of the ways in which you'd deteriorated since he'd been gone.

"I was just so worried about you," he continued. "I wanted to look out for you, that's all. I understand if you've moved on and don't love me anymore - really, I do. But I… I still love you. And I just - I want you to be safe. That's all."

You stare at him after that, letting him shift around in apprehension while your eyes get wide and your bottom lip trembles.

"Oh, Jason," you whisper before reaching out to him. He makes a small, alarmed sound at the tears that have begun dripping down your cheeks and pulls himself towards you instead of letting you reach out into empty space. His heart thumps painfully in his chest as he considers just how many times over the past three years you reached out into nothing, wishing he was there for you to hold on to.

"Hey…" he says gently as you pull him closer, hands fisting his t-shirt and face buried in his neck. He smoothes a hand over your hair and wraps the other around your waist, anchoring you to him as he feels hot tears on his skin where your face is pressed against him.

"You're an idiot," you mumble against him and he huffs out a quiet laugh. You pull away from him and he reluctantly lets you, holding your hips tightly as you stare at him, cupping his face firmly in your hands to make sure he looks at you.

"There was never an after you, Jay," you say, voice warbling slightly with more unshed tears. "It was always, always you. Forever. I'm… I'm sorry I ran away." 

"Well," Jason drawls, but you don't miss the thickness in his own voice and the way his eyes blink back tears. "In your defence, people usually stay dead longer than I did." You huff at that, a smile twitching against the corners of your mouth as you lean back into him. You bury your face back into his neck and hum appreciatively as his arms wrap back around you, holding you tightly to him.

"I'm sorry for acting like that in the alley," you murmur against his skin and he drops a kiss on the top of your head.

"Don't apologize for that, baby. You always have been tough on the outside."

"Yea but you did all that work to get through it when we first got together," you whined. "Now it's gone."

"No way," Jason responds lightly. "This, right here," he continues as he tightens his arms around you, "this is it, sweetheart. And besides… nothing would make me happier than getting to know you again."

"Yea?" your voice is cautious in a way that makes Jason tenderly pull your head away from his neck so he can press kisses across your face.

"Yea," he says sweetly. "Neither of us are the people we used to be, and we both know that. It'll take some time for us to relearn each other."

"Yea," you sigh. "I guess it will."

"Aw, cheer up baby," he says gently. "This is the good part. How lucky is it that we get to do it all over again, huh?"

"Yea," you say, the faintest hint of a laugh leaving your lip and making Jason's heart swell in his chest. "It's nice to have this back."

"Yea it is baby," Jason agrees as he cups your cheek in one of his hands, guiding your lips to his. "It's nice to have this back."

#smsn.writes #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x y/n #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fluff #red hood fic #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter One

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Alcohol consumption, Sassy Bob, Flirty Bradley, Supernatural elements, Siren calls. I think that's it?

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Here is chapter one!! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I am enjoying writing it lol I'm so excited to continue this one. Just a quick reminder to you all that I will be out of town Wednesday-Saturday, so I'm not sure how much I'll be able to update as I will be attending a wedding! As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! You can also follow me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I will be posting updates as well!

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You crossed the bridge to North Island a few hours later, the sun hanging low in the sky, but not quite to the point of setting. You marveled at the expanse of water that stretched on beneath you as you drove.

“Not sure why the founders wanted to settle way the hell out here,” Bob grumbled beside you. “We’re too small to even have a damn Walmart.”

“Walmart is overrated,” you told him, turning the radio down. “Besides, small towns are so cute!”

“Not when you’re forced to live there every day,” Bob retorted with a roll of his eyes. You rolled your eyes back at him, repositioning Rusty who still sat on your lap.

“You’re too close to it to see all the charm it has to offer.”

“I give it two weeks before you eat those words,” he smirked. You reached over to smack his shoulder lightly, and he looked over at you in mock shock. “Don’t hit the driver!”

“Well, maybe the driver shouldn’t be such a cynic,” you teased, leaning back. Bob chuckled as the car reached the other side of the bay, passing the crowded beaches. “Does North Island get a lot of tourists?”

“Only during the summertime, really,” he replied. “It’s a calm, quiet little town with white beaches and pretty views all over the island. The founders have really played into the local legends over the years, so we have a lot of souvenir shops dedicated to those.”

“What local legends?” you asked him, quirking a brow. Bob flushed, the tips of his ears turning a bright red.

“It’s dumb,” he grumbled, but you were listening intently now.

The two of you drove through the downtown area, people milling about and enjoying the end of the summer day. The dinner crowd was beginning to pick up and you could hear the music blaring from several different buildings.

“No, come on,” you grinned. “You can’t drop that little tidbit and then not tell me.”

“Alright, fine,” he sighed, glancing at you. “For as long as the town has been around, there have been stories of…things in the water.”

“What do you mean? Like a really big fish or something?”

He shifted in his seat, turning down a side road that led away from town.

“I mean,” he hummed, “things like mermaids.”

You laughed at that, and Bob grimaced. “I told you it was dumb,” he muttered.

“No, no,” you giggled. “It’s cute, really. I love mermaids!”

He rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t if you grew up surrounded by them.”

“There you go being all cynical again,” you scowled. “I would have killed to live somewhere like this with such fun local legends.”

Bob pulled down a gravel driveway and past a grouping of trees. You saw a grand, white house perched at the edge of the hill overlooking the water. A porch wrapped around both the first and second floor, and you saw a path lead down the hill towards the beach.

“I’m glad one of us is excited to be here,” he chuckled, coming to a stop on the blacktop as you stared at the large house in front of you.

“You live here?” You asked, looking over at him in shock.

Bob had the decency to look sheepish as he turned off the car. “Yeah, this is home.”

At that moment, a small, blonde woman opened the door with a wide grin. She rushed out onto the porch as a burly, spectacled man stepped out behind her. Bob opened his door, and you followed suit. Susan Floyd rushed down the steps and up towards you, wrapping you in a warm hug before turning to give her son a matching one. Richard Floyd gave you a warm smile as he clapped his son on the back.

“You two must be exhausted after that drive,” Susan cooed, ushering you into the house as the two men moved to get your luggage out of the car. You smiled warmly at her and allowed her to lead you into the house.

“I’m not too tired,” you told her as she sat you down in a stool by the island in the kitchen. It was a spacious room, opening up into the dining room. A set of glass doors led out onto the back porch, the ocean sitting front and center in the beautiful view of the beach below.

“That’s good,” she hummed, stirring the pot on the stove. “Are you hungry, sweetie? I made some of my special spaghetti. It’s Bobby’s favorite, you know.”

Bob groaned as he stepped into the kitchen with his father. “Mom, I’ve told you. It’s not Bobby, it’s Bob.”

Susan smiled at the younger man affectionately. “Yes, of course dear. Were you hungry?”

“Starved, actually,” he smiled, plopping down in the seat next to you. Susan began piling noodles and sauce onto two different plates before setting them down in front of the two of you. Bob uttered a thanks before shoveling a healthy fork full into his mouth. You giggled, watching as he ate like he hadn’t eaten in months. You took a much smaller bite than he had, humming at how good the sauce tasted. It had a hint of red wine that pulled out the flavors of the garlic and herbs.

“How’s it taste?” she smiled at you, leaning against the counter.

“Ifs delisus,” Bob said through a mouthful of noodles. She scowled at him before throwing a napkin at him.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful,” she scolded before turning to look at you expectantly. You chuckled before nodding your agreement.

“It’s delicious, Mrs. Floyd.”

“No, none of that,” she scowled. “Call me Susan.”

“Yes, Susan,” you smiled. She smiled at you before turning to clean up the rest of the kitchen. Bob inhaled his first plate of spaghetti, and Susan was quick to load his plate up with more.

“Has Bob told you any of the town’s history yet, y/n?” Richard asked you from his spot at the dining room table. Bob groaned, hiding his face in his hands as you smiled.

“He told me about the mermaid legends,” you grinned. You saw Susan pause out of the corner of your eye as Richard gave you a wry smile.

“I don’t know if I would call them mermaids,” he mused, giving a pointed look at his son who refused to meet his gaze. “But our town has a long, storied history, yes.”

“Oh?” You asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Richard hummed, leaning back in his chair. “No, mermaid is an insulting term for what these creatures are. They’re fierce hunters, preying these waters with deadly accuracy. Sometimes they even hunt on land.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned. Susan gave him a warning look, but he continued.

“They say these creatures come out of the depths to prey on humans on the land, dragging them into the depths never to be seen again.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Susan snapped at him, Richard giving her an apologetic look. “I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense tonight. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go take out the trash?”

Richard heaved a sigh, standing to obey her. He passed you with a wink, dropping a hand to your shoulder.

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, y/n,” he smiled, turning to head out the door. Susan sighed, turning to look at you once she heard the door close behind him.

“I’m sorry about him,” she grumbled, shooting a glare at where her husband had just disappeared. “He loves those crazy stories. Don’t even pay him any mind, okay?”

“I don’t mind!” You assured her. “I think it’s all very interesting. The most anyone talks about where I’m from is Bigfoot.”

“As much as I would love to hear you go on your bigfoot theories tirade again,” Bob spoke up, rolling his eyes. “I thought you might want to go out tonight.”

“Bobby, I’m sure she’s tired,” his mother started, but you shook your head, turning excitedly to look at your best friend.

“No, it’s fine!” You chirped. “I think it would be fun to go out and get to see the sites. Where did you have in mind?”

“I was thinkin’ I could take you down to the Hard Deck,” he mused.

Susan rolled her eyes at him. “You want to take her to a bar of all things?”

“Why not? The gang is going to be there tonight, I already texted them to make sure. They’re anxious to meet her.”

Susan seemed to brighten at that. “Oh, you’ll love’em, y/n! They’re such a good group of kids, and I just know they’ll love you too.”

“So we have your blessing then?” Bob joked, earning another scowl.

“Yes, you kids go out and have a good time, but don’t be out too late! I think your father said something about wanting to take the boat out tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He mock saluted, earning a smack to the top of his head this time. You chuckled at the two of them as Bob rubbed the back of his head. He turned to look at you with a scowl at your obvious amusement. “C’mon, I’ll show you your room.”

The night was warm despite the cool breeze blowing in through the window from the ocean, and you chalked it up to the densely populated bar you now found yourself sitting in. You had followed Bob inside, having to grab his hand in order to keep from getting separated amongst the crowd.

“Bob!”

You turned to see a group of five seated at a large table on the far wall next to the patio. The only woman in the group raised her hand to grab his attention, and Bob eagerly dragged you over to them.

“Hey, college boy,” grinned a tanned man with long, curly hair that was slicked back. “How’s it hangin’?”

“More importantly,” said the dark-skinned man across from him, looking at you, “who’s your friend?”

“Guys, this is y/n, my best friend from Duke,” he gestured to you with a grin. “Y/n, this is Mickey, Reuben, Natasha, Javy, and Bradley.”

Each of them waved to you at the mention of their name, and you waved back with a small smile. The mustached one, Bradley, grinned up at you before shuffling over on the bench.

“Ain’t no need to be shy, sunshine,” he winked at you, gesturing to the now open seat next to him. “We’re all friends here.”

You sat down slowly next to him, Bob scooting onto the bench across from you and next to Natasha.

“So, y/n,” she smiled, leaning forward with intrigue clear in her eyes, “where you from?”

“Oh, I’m from Missouri,” you smiled at her.

“Missouri?” Mickey snorted, earning a ribbing from Javy. You chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, it’s not glamorous or anything, but it’s home,” you explained.

Reuben leaned around Bradley to look at you. “So you were in the same major as Bob, right? How did you even get into that?”

“Oh, I’ve always had a fascination with the sea, I guess. Felt like I might have been a mermaid in another life,” you joked, and the group chuckled, earning a look from Bob as you looked around uncertainly. “Did I say something funny?”

“Nah, sunshine,” Bradley grinned. “It’s just cute is all. Imagine you being a little mermaid.”

“In fairness, I was five,” you blushed, and he reached down to pinch your cheek gently.

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on us again,” he drawled. Javy rolled his eyes, taking a sip from the glass of beer in front of him.

“You’re almost putting Jake to shame right now,” he chuckled, causing Mickey and Reuben to both snort. Bob looked around the bar, brow furrowing.

“Speaking of, where is he?” He asked the rest of the group. Bradley let out a low chuckle, resting his arm behind you as Natasha rolled her eyes at the name.

“Mandy has been especially clingy, as of late,” Reuben frowned, peering towards the bar with a pointed look. Bob turned, frowning at what he saw. “Been dropping hints left and right for weeks. She barely leaves his side.”

“Well, yeah,” Bradley scoffed, taking a swig from his bottle. “I’m not surprised since it’s almost time for-”

Natasha cleared her throat, giving a pointed glance to you.

“Almost time for what?” you asked, looking around at the table. No one said a thing, giving small glares at Bradley who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat and looked down at you, an easy smile spreading across his face.

“I just noticed that you don’t have a drink, sunshine,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me to the bar, and I’ll get you something?”

You gave one last look around the table before nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay. I could use a drink.”

You stood, Bradley close behind you, and you looked over at Bob. “You’re usual?”

“Please,” he said, giving you a tight lipped smile. You returned it softly, following Bradley up to the bar.

“Bradley,” hummed the older woman behind the bar, green eyes narrowing in on him as she saw you next to him.

“Penny,” he smirked, leaning against the counter. She walked over to the two of you, placing a hand on her hip as she frowned at him.

“What can I get you?” She asked him.

“Two beers and?” He turned to you, eyebrow raised.

“A jack and coke, please,” you smiled at her. She returned the gesture warmly, moving to make your drink.

“You best be careful around this one, honey,” she drawled, eyeing the man next to you. “He has a habit of goin’ around breaking hearts.”

“Penny, you wound me,” Bradley cried in mock hurt, gaping mouth quickly turning into another grin. He shot you a wink. “I would never do that to sunshine here.”

Penny snorted, handing him two beers and you your glass. “Right. You’re no better than Seresin over here.”

She jerked her head to the other side of the bar. You followed her gaze, seeing a blond man turn at the sound of his name. He glanced over to where Penny was looking at you and Bradley leaning up against the bar. He had an easy smirk on his face that rivaled Bradley’s, and when he turned his green eyes to you, you swear your heart stopped beating for a moment. His eyes were like sea glass, a frosty, almost moss colored green. It was like the world faded to black around you as you looked at him. You felt something that you could only describe as a tether snapping into place as his eyes bore into yours. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn his eyes started glowing as he continued to stare into the very depths of your soul.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes snapped to the side where Bradley was watching you worriedly. You shook the silly thoughts from your head. “I’m sorry, what?”

Bradley chuckled down at you, a hint of worry still tugging at his lips.

“I was just asking if you were ready to head back to the others?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, glancing back at the stranger across the bar. He was still staring at you, face unreadable. The brunette standing next to him looked very put out as he continued to ignore her.

“Jake!” She hissed at him, gripping his jaw and turning his face to look at her. “Are you listening to me?”

Jake looked down at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “Huh?”

“You are so dense sometimes,” she snapped, dropping her hand back to her side. The stranger, Jake, glanced back over at you, and the brunette followed his line of sight, scowling when she saw you. Bradley let out a low whistle before nudging you with his elbow playfully.

“Would sure hate to be him right about now,” he joked, an exaggerated grimace making you giggle. “Mandy is no joke when she’s pissed.”

“Jake!” Mandy shrieked. You chanced another look across the bar. Mandy looked like she was about to blow a fuse as she stared daggers between you and the man at her side. Said man was now frowning, eyes darting between you and Bradley. “I’m talking to you!”

“C’mon, sunshine,” Bradley said with a roll of his eyes at the couple across the bar. “If we stay any longer, I might lose my hearing.”

You followed him back to the table silently, still feeling the heavy weight of two green eyes on your back.

You slept with the window open that night, eager to feel the sea air on your skin as you slept. Your curtains billowed lightly as the moonlight poured into your room. You tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. Your bed wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite in fact, so you weren’t sure what had woken you up. You glanced at your phone, the numbers on the screen showing that it was far too early in the morning to still be awake. You huffed out a sigh, listening to the waves as they crashed against the shore below. That was when you heard it.

You weren’t sure what it was at first, it was so unlike anything you had ever experienced. It was a low hum that slowly turned into a lamentful cry amongst the breaking waves. You tossed your blankets back, quickly getting up and padding over to the window. The cry turned into what you could only describe as a song, not too dissimilar to one a whale would make, but this sounded almost…human? You peered out the window, heart racing as you continued to listen to the strange song. You felt a yearning unlike any other crescendo inside of you, calling to you from a distance almost like it wasn’t even your own. Your mind began to feel heavy, hazy with what, you weren’t sure. The song continued, calling to you, begging you to follow. Your eyes grew lidded, skin warm as you felt the call seep into your skin, drowning everything out but the inherent need to obey. You turned, taking a step towards your door.

A dog began to bark, causing you to jump and the song to stop. Shaking the cloudiness from your mind, you looked out the window once again. You caught sight of what you could only describe as a fish’s tail, silver scales gleaming in the moonlight, rising up before disappearing back beneath the waves.

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun hangman #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #siren au #mermaid au #mermaid!siren!jake #meet me at the sea #mmats

[trybeforeyoudeny]

It all happened so fast.

Eddie had been checking him out from across the bar and before he knew what was happening he was being pressed against the bathroom stall door, hot kisses being pressed into his neck.

He had been six, maybe seven shots deep, but even through blurry eyes he could tell that this man is the most beautiful person he's ever laid his cynical eyes on.

"W-wait, slow down," Eddie moans out, looking down at the man whose now on his knees in front of him, one hand trailing underneath his shirt while the other dips below the top of his jeans, fingers toying with his boxers. He's looking at him with desperation, like he wants to worship him. Devour him.

"What's wrong?" The man pouts, and oh. That damn mouth. Those lips. Eddie curses under his breath.

"What's your name?" Eddie can't continue without having a name to moan.

"Steve," the man chuckles, leaving a wet, sloppy kiss on Eddie's hip. "Steve Harrington."

Eddie freezes.

"Harrington?" The disbelief is evident in his voice and he immediately feels himself sobering up. This cannot be happening.

Steve must sense the shift in the atmosphere because he leans back, looking up at him with confusion. Suddenly his eyes begin to widen as he stares into Eddie's, everything clicking together.

"Eddie-" he breathes out his name softly, not moving from his spot on the floor, not removing his hands from his body.

"I... I should go," Eddie begins to panic, trying to back away but realizing very quickly that he's cornered in the small stall.

"Wait-" Steve stands up, cupping Eddie's face in his hands. "Why are you trying to leave?"

He's taken aback, to say the least. He figured as soon as Steve realized it was him he'd run out of the bathroom faster than they had gotten here. Hell- he's still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Steve Harrington is even here at this gay bar to begin with.

"Because you're you and I'm... well, I'm me," he lets out a self-deprecating laugh but Steve only frowns and brushes Eddie's hair away from his face and begins peppering kisses along his jaw, eliciting a feral noise out of Eddie.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Steve mumbles with his lips still pressed greedily into Eddie's skin.

"God. Please don't," Eddie pleads, every ounce of dignity leaving his body at once.

"You know," Steve bites the sensitive flesh behind Eddie's ear, hot breath sending shivers down his spine. "I always had a thing for you back in high school."

Just like that Eddie feels his blood run cold and his body heat up in one fell swoop. "W-what?" He gasps, unable to grasp what he's hearing. Steve the hair Harrington liked him?! And he never noticed?!

"Well, duh," Steve laughs softly. He's made his way back down to his knees, looking up at him with big doe eyes practically begging to take off his pants, and who is Eddie to deny the king of what he wants?

"Go ahead, big boy."

Steve fucking whimpers at that and begins to expertly undo his belt as he continues talking. "How could I not have a thing for you? You were so badass and outspoken. You never let anyone bring you down. I wanted to be like you." He finished the sentence with a happy little noise as he pulls down Eddie's jeans and boxers, freeing Eddie's cock and putting it in full display.

"Trust me, sweetheart, you wouldn't have wanted to be me back then," he inhales sharply as Steve bobs his head down his full length without warning. Jesus, this guy knows what he's doing. He's never had anyone take him so well. Steve's got him quivering like a fucking virgin and he has to stick his arms straight out, pressing against the wall opposite of him to keep himself from collapsing.

"Hmm," Steve hums with Eddie's tip pressed to his lips, the vibration driving him even further into madness. "That may be true, but that didn't stop me from fantasizing. Doodling hearts in my notebooks with our initials. Imagining your hand replacing mine when I pleasured myself late at night," he continues to spew filthy words at him but Eddie nearly comes undone at just the mere thought of pretty boy Stevie writing his name in the margins on his pages, twirling his hair and biting the end of his pencil.

"Fuck, Steve I'm close," he brings one hand down to run his fingers through Steve's infamous hair, gripping it firmly before letting go of the last thread of restraint he had been holding onto.

“Your turn, Harrington,” Eddie slides his fingers through Steve’s belt loops, pulling him back to his feet.

“Nuh-uh,” Steve presses a hand firmly into his chest, abruptly stopping him before he can drop to his knees. “How about you take me to dinner first?” He cracks a wide smile and Eddie feels his heart skip a beat.

“It’s a date.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #teatime #steddie ficlet #steddie smut

[precious-little-scoundrel]

IM SORRY DID U SAY YOURE WORKING ON A FIC ABOUT “COP BIG DADDY ELVIS”?!?- please tell us more because this sounds like the greatest thing ever 😭

I did, Mon ami, I did indeed…welcome to the demented 2009, sweaty and non famous cop AU that @eliseinmemphis and myself cooked up in our feral yearnings one night.

Edit: it’s here

Allow me to lay a bit of the setting for us all, and maybe even throw in a few lines from the draft below.

Life is insular when you’ve been born and raised in a trailer park. A little El Paso suburb was never a thriving metropolis, what with its gas stations and dollar stores on the way to nothingness in the desert, but the recession didn’t help none. Your dreams of buying a car that might actually make it above 120 mph and not guzzle your wages in gas is a far off dream when you learn from officer Presley that your entrepreneuring father has been incarnated for racketeering across in Juarez. It’s a shame, a damn shame but it hardly throws a wrench in your life, you were already used to making it however you could. When workin’ at the trucker’s club turns into something a lil more illegal and Elvis has his morning waffle ruined by Joe Esposito yacking about the powers of your pink tongue…he feels a little responsible for leaving you without a father figure. He’s got top notch swamp coolers in his trailer, plenty of food and tiger figurines out front -and he’s got an interest in fast things, just like you.

You could do worse than shack up with such a fella; not that he’s offerin’ but you can tell by the flicker in his eye and the smirk of his lips that he’s as susceptible as the next guy watching you on the pole. Except this sweet, world weary cynic just might screw your gooey insides up worse than any threat or ogle from another man.

Snippet:

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been a year or two since you saw him last. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he keeps in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms had massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Sweet Cheeks,” he greets, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to this slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me flyby on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

#Elvis blurbs #trash magic #TM asks #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #blurbs #my blurbs #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fan fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presely smut

[gilverrwrites]

Quick and Dirty

Pairing: Captain Boomerang/Reader

Digger has an idea, it involves highly inappropriate usage of the Speed Force Gauntlet. (Please ignore the fact that the gauntlet doesn't actually extend to the fingers - at least i'm pretty sure it doesn't)

You're currently reading the AFAB version

>[Please click here for the AMAB version]<

Rating: 18+

Words: >800

Content: Established relationship, coercion (kinda), clitoral stimulation, vibrations, dirty talk, spit, swearing.

Please remember: to do the things that make you happy.

“No. Fucking. Way.” You warn, leaning back against the wall and crossing your arms defensively. “You keep that thing away from me.”

“Oh, come on, Darlin’.” Digger is still smiling, crooked, confident, casual. He gestures to the speed gauntlet strapped to his other arm. “It’s perfectly safe. You’ve seen me usin’ it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You examine the glove in question. It would be a lie to say you weren’t intrigued. You didn’t know much about the speed force beyond whatever half-truths Digger rambled on about, it seemed intricate, and unsafe. But Boomerang was a good lay, and he’d used that thing to save your skin in the field more than once, so you were willing to tentatively hear him out. “If that thing goes off midway, I don’t want my bits going with it.”

“That won’t happen… Probably.” Concern did flash across his face briefly, but it was quickly hidden by his usual bravado. He stepped closer to you, not quite close enough to touch, but enough that you could smell him, that you could feel the high energy radiating from him. Or maybe that was the gauntlet. “Have a little faith in ol’ Boomer, aye. I’ll treat you right, make you feel real good.”

“Okay… but if anything happens to mine.” You point to your crotch before gesturing to the growing erection in Digger's trousers. “I’m using yours as target practice.”

That might have been a boner killer for other men, but Digger's enthusiasm when it comes to sex or showing off knows no bounds, and this is a perfect opportunity for both. His eyes glint with mischief, with victory. He licks his lips, and you know there’s no backing out now, you’re fucked.

Digger maintains eye contact as he reaches out, there’s no pleasantries. He makes quick work undoing your trousers, hooking his gloved fingers in your panties, and pulling them both down until they’re positioned halfway down your thighs.

“What, no foreplay?” You challenge, raising your brows at him.

“You’re not gonna need it.” The look he gives you is so coy, so amused. It should fuel your cynicism, but it looks hot on him. “But, since ya asked so nicely, I guess I can spare a lil somethin’.”

He rests his unarmed hand on the wall beside you and leans in, occupying your lips with his. You’re only allowed a moment to enjoy it before you feel the brisk metal finger plates of the gauntlet slide between your slit. You hiss at the contact, and Digger pulls his hand back immediately.

“Sorry bout that. Shoulda warmed it up first.” His expression flips to sheepish as he brushes his fingers against his scarf. He blows on it a few times before spitting on his index finger and continuing. “Right, let’s try that again.”

He resumes the position, one hand on the wall, one hand slinking back between your legs, and his face just inches from yours. The temperature has barely improved, but he’s able to sink his fingers back in without causing you to flinch this time.

You’re still unprepared and admittedly unimpressed thus far as he starts circling your clit. To give him a fighting chance, you close your eyes, hoping it will help you focus on the feeling.

“Aye, no no no. Keep your eyes open.” As you follow his instruction, you hear a quiet whizzing from below, a lesser sound than the gauntlet's normal powering up. “I wanna watch your reaction.”

Then it hits you, an intense pulsing pressed against your most sensitive area, like every vibrator ever invented is being utilised on you in that single moment. The wall prevents you from being able to roll your head back, so you stare at Digger, wide-eyed as your body tingles and burns.

“Shhhhiiiiit, you like that.” His voice is dripping with fervour, and it only serves to add an extra level of throbbing to your cunt. Already approaching your climax, you’re unable to find the words to respond, instead fisting your hands around Digger's leather lapels in anticipation. “You reallllly like that, don’t ya?”

A nod is all you can manage as you begin to jerk and quiver, hitting your climax in record time. It’s hot and searing, like lightning is running through your whole body.

The tips of your fingers and toes, among other things, are still twitching as you start to catch your breath moments later. You can barely comprehend whatever Digger is prattling on about. He’s waving the gauntlet around, his arm moving so fast you can’t make it out. There’s lots of brash laughter and ‘I told ya so’s. You’re finally able to fully tune in as he muses, “How many rounds of that can handle, I wonder?”

#captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang imagine #captain boomerang smut #digger harkness x reader #george digger harness x reader #gilverrwrites

[jaennwrites]

Birthdays ˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗

guysss...i was on twitter and i saw this damn tweet that was like "why are guys never excited for their birthday" and YALL the men in the replies were so SAD AND CYNICAL...and i feel like that's so carmy. SO! In the spirit of raising my spirits for my 19th birthday...i wanna write this...tee hee. pairings: carmy berzatto x gn!reader, established relationship word count: short :D warnings: none, pure FLUFF CUTE DISGUSTING LOVEY DOVEYNESS BLAHH.

Carmy didn't really care for his birthday. He didn't want to sound like "those guys" but it really just was another day. The fact that he was never not working on his birthday also contributed to his nonchalant mindset.

He hadn't planned to be with someone this birthday — had he ever? This year he had you, you guys had been dating for five months now and Carmy was happy. Although, the happiness terrified him to death, it felt good. It felt good to have you drop by the restaurant randomly, to see you sleeping in his bed when he came home late. That will be his birthday present, seeing you when he got off of work, that was good enough.

"Cousin!" "Your lover is here!" Richie announced teasingly

Carmy rolled his eyes at the playful jab but a smile couldn't leave his face at the announcement of your arrival, an early birthday gift. He pushed himself out of the office chair and opened the door to see you with a cheerful smile on your face.

"Happy birthday Carm" You smiled extending the small white bakery box in your hand.

"Thank you?" He spoke trying to sound sincere but this was new for him. He couldn't really remember the last time someone brought him a...cupcake, he discovered as he peeked in the box.

"I know you're so blahh about your birthday but I believe in celebrating birthdays" You nodded stealing Carmy's seat in the office chair.

"I do like my birthday, and I appreciate this cupcake" "Actually" He reassured

"Sit" You demanded as you got up to let him sit down.

You turned off the lights in the office before pulling a pack of candles out your bag. You placed one right in the center of the cupcake, lighting it with a smile.

Carmy wasn't sure if it was the warm somewhat nostalgic light emitted from the candle, or your presence but he could feel his eyes starting to water. He turned his head away from you in hopes to not embarrass himself. However, it wasn't embarrassing, nothing about this was, it was just very unfamiliar for him.

"Carmy?..." "Are you...crying?" You asked concerned fearing that maybe his birthday held a negative memory for him.

You hadn't told him about this cupcake thing considering it was a surprise, but you and Carmy never really talk about birthdays. There were few conversations the previous month about if he was excited but he was always fairly dismissive. It never crossed your mind that the whole day might just be a negative thing for him.

"I'm sorry" "I hope I'm not being insensitive" You apologized taking his hand in yours

"No, No, No" "I'm just...happy, very happy, I love this" "All of it" Carmy smiled, quickly wiping a few falling tears

"Are you sure? I'll throw this cupcake a thousand miles away if you want" You reassured

"Really" "You're the best...best thing that ever happened to me" He declared squeezing your hand lovingly.

You held his face with you free hand, letting your thumb gently caress his cheeks before leaning in and kissing him. Carmy melted into your touch as he kissed you back rather eagerly. You both nearly forgot about the burning candle that was now halfway melted leaving blue wax all over the top of the white icing.

"Fuck" You cursed pulling away to turn your attention towards the cupcake.

"I have to make a wish" Carmy joked, going to blow out the candle

"Make a real wish Carm" You demanded holding his shoulder to ensure he didn't blow out the candle without thought.

"I am" He defended with a laugh —he was not.

Carmy closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted to wish for. I mean realistically, he wanted the restaurant to do great, he wanted things to get easier, maybe for everyone to always listen to him. He couldn't choose one wish and the candle was still burning, and you...

You, he thought, if he had to pick one wish above all other wishes, he would wish for you. So that's what he did; he wished for you and him to be together forever in kidlike fashion. Carmy couldn't honestly say he believed in birthday wishes but as he blew out his candle, he hoped that this wish would be the one to come true.

"What did you wish for?" You asked, laying your head on his shoulder

"I can't tell you" "Or else it won't come true" He argued playfully

"Better have been for something good" "Birthday wishes are important" "We're gonna celebrate every birthday from now on" You informed with an authority he found attractive and amusing.

Carmy watched with adoration as you carefully split the cupcake in half, picking away the blue wax from the top. If every birthday from now on was going to be with you then he didn't mind, didn't mind not one bit.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #sick to my stomach

[wroteclassicaly]

Giving eddie a hand job and whispering praises in his ear while he sits pretty and slowly becomes an aroused mess, only focusing on how good you're making him feel 😔

HATE | No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | F*CK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Okay, listen… I have a thing for Eddie Munson being a subby lil’ man. And many, many visuals, rn. So I’m gonna write a little something in the cut below. :P

Send me a hot scenario and I will rate it

When Eddie Munson agreed to let you ‘try something’, he wasn’t exactly sure just what you had planned for him. Reversing the roles of lap sitting is definitely not what he could’ve fathomed in his cynical brain. Yet, here he sits, bare ass on your jean clad thigh, his own denim and boxers bunched around his ankles, only to be kicked away seconds later by your demanding encouragement, his head tilted back to rest on your shoulder, curls sweaty and damp on his forehead. You’re the one who sits on his dungeon master throne, polished nails biting into the meat of his left thigh as it’s spread out over your other leg. He’s completely at your mercy.

“Good boy, Eds.” You whisper into his ear, you warm breath caressing the shell and making his cock twitch in your spit-slick palm.

You tap it against his thick erection, humming underneath your breath. “Don’t stop your multi-tasking on my account, baby boy.”

He croons at the damned pet names, head turning to the side in a breathless plea for a kiss. Your grant him a mere hover of your lips, choosing that moment to begin tugging his cock in a sinfully wet glide. His lips purse, mouth dropping open into a series of pitiful whimpers. He squirms on your lap, his tall and lanky form practically rutting into that denim seam that runs between your thighs—your only barrier.

“My boyfriend has such a pretty cock. Gonna split me open later, aren’t you? You wanna make me cry, Eddie, hmm?”

“Y/N… Please—“

You squeeze him around the base, your other hand combing through his chocolate tresses. “Shh, Eddie. I know. You’re being perfect for me, trusting me to take control. Make you feel good.”

Eddie arches into your hand, gaining his own friction. You immediately halt your movements, your tongue licking a crude stripe up his neck, tasking perspiring salt and hints of his aftershave and cheap cologne.

Debaucherous and downright filthy, you’re beginning to focus on that translucent cream bubbling at the head of his dick. You swipe your thumb across it, swirling it around that vein on the underside of him, before pressing the digit into your mouth and groaning around it, releasing with a pop. “Tastes so fucking good, Eds.”

His hands, which are still remaining in their position on the arms of his chair, begin to stir. You let him cup your jawline, bringing your lips close to his. “Fuckin’ need to feel your mouth on mine, Y/N.”

The kiss is noisy and sloppy, Eddie’s tongue greedily moving against your own, pushing, licking, making a mess of you until you’re sharing a disgustingly long string of saliva, that drizzles on the break away, landing on your knuckles. You spread your fingers, letting it seep in and douse Eddie’s cock. His face buries into your neck, forgetting his campaign plans spread out on the table before you both. He’s fighting not to thrust into your grip, begging in silent screams. You trace your fingers down his back, tapping his tailbone. “Up and sit back against the table for me.”

He obeys without question, palms down, arms back behind him, naked body on display. You find it difficult to walk, that squish between your thighs soaking through your panties. Hell, maybe even the jeans too. Your pupils are blown so wide that it makes your damn vision foggy and lust-filled. You remember your dominance, fingernails crawling up his chest and pulling the guitar pick chain, flicking it several times, leaning forward and running your tongue across his nipple, teeth scraping in that rough way that he likes, relishing in the hiss that comes from him, his cock’s tip collecting more pre-cum, all the way up into that happy trail that’s shining with it.

You suck and bite at the surrounding flesh of his pectoral tattoo, your hand working back over his cock, pumping him into a sopping wet fist, collecting more of his essence on the fingers of your free hand, pressing it to his plush lips. Those chocolate eyes are completely gone, only a glossy black casting its sparkling shadow in the middle of his sclera. He opens his mouth, sampling every last drop.

“Yeah, good boy, Eddie. How do you taste? Know how you’re always making me taste myself too?” When he nods, common sense obliterated, you’re stepping as close as you can get without smashing your body into his. “And you know what, baby? You taste way better.”

“N-not a chance in Hell.” He manages.

You laugh, running your hands through his hair, both of you watching how you stroke and pleasure him. You let your hand slide around, smacking at his ass a little, smirking. “There we go. You’re doing so well for me, Eddie. I’m proud of you.”

He’s giddy and nearly loses his load right then and there. You feel him throb in your grip. “Yeah, you like that? That I’m proud of you, Eds?”

“You’re so getting fucked until you can’t walk, just know that.” He’s panting as he says it, his tone meant to be threatening and seductive, but coming out as a simpering mess.

You smirk. “Careful, Dungeon Master. It seems that I have got the… upper hand here.”

#asks #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #thanks so much for the ask! ^_^

[simplydannie]

Velvet & Veneer Fanfic

I Couldn’t Save You

Prelude Here

An infection story I did a while ago! This is an AU I plan on doing, so this story is a separate timeline.

An outbreak of some sort has happened as we saw in the prelude. Those at the detention were separated. Floyd is on a mission to not only find Branch who mysteriously disappeared… but to also make sure if a set of siblings are unharmed.

After a perilous journey, the Trolls had finally made it to Mount Rageous again…. Except this time…. It was in ruin.

Buildings in smoke, roofs caved in….. the infection had made its way to the dazzling city of lights. Knowing that Mount Rageous was populated by teens, the Trolls only hoped they were able to make it home with their families before….well…. They couldn’t even finish the thought.

“Why are we here again…” John Dory asked as he looked at the ruined city with a distraught look.

“… Trying to find Branch.” Floyd said. JD looked at his brother.

“And…” He waited for Floyd’s continued answer.

“…. To see if the twins are alright….”Floyd finished.

Crimp told them that Mount Rageous itself had no detention center. That was located further into Rageous… and that’s where they traveled.

The air was eerie. What was once a lively bustling city filled with youngsters… was now silent, and dead. As they traveled they didn’t pass a single soul, not one Rageoun in sight. How things could change in one year.

“You think they all made it out in time?” JD asked.

“Hopefully. Or maybe isolating themselves…” Floyd responded. As they continued they saw the rest of Rageous for the first time. If it wasn’t for the ruin and smoke… it would have been dazzling: buildings made of precious gems and stones. Floyd would have liked to learn more about the Rageouns if it was under better circumstances.

After what felt like hours, the made it: RAGEOUS DETENTION CENTER FOR TROUBLED YOUTH. Or in Veneers words, prison.

It seemed abandoned and empty…. At least the brothers hoped it was.

“Ready?” Floyd asked. John Dory took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

Broken glass and shattered material layed inside the detention center…. But no soul in sight. They checked behind every door, inside every room…empty.

“Okay. This is good. They evacuated, they made it out.” John Dory said.

“Yes.” Hope began filling in Floyds heart for a moment, “But Branch…”

“Maybe it’s better if we didn’t find him…means he’s safe….” JD replied. They were cut off by a sudden sound down within the hall.

They cautiously walked over to a cell….

“Oh man…it’s a kid.” JD said. Both being older, when they meant kid, it was a teen… an infected teen.

Floyd couldn’t make out the face of the young Rageoun…All he could hear were eerie hymns coming from the Rageon’s mouth, rocking back and forth, small burst of cynical giggles. Floyd felt bad.

“…..They’re not immune….” Floyd began to say before he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Floyd?” He heard a female voice call out to him from behind. He turned to see Velvet’s familiar face.

“Velvet? You’re still here? Why? How?” Floyd walked up to the tempered glass cell.

“Me? Why the heck are you here?” She asked. She didn’t seem at all bothered by what was going on around her, by the infected Rageoun right across from her.

“Obvisouly now, here to get you out now! JD let’s get this open….” Floyd began to say.

“NO! No. Don’t. I am not going out there.” Velvet made her way and leaned herself against a wall. Crouched, hugging her legs….She looked a little different… thinner paler. “I’ve scavenged enough supplies…for now.”

“Vels, we got to get you and your brother out. The city is abandoned…we need to get you somewhere safe…” JD began to say.

“I know what’s out there. I was here when all the panic started…but I am not going anywhere.” She said without looking at them. “….I have what I need here…”

“Where’s Veneer? Maybe we can convince him? I know he wants you safe.” Floyd said. Upon the mention of her brothers name, she looked at Floyd with a sad look in her eyes. He could see her eyes begin to fill with tears. Without a word, she glanced at the cell across from her…..at the cell where the infected Rageoun was…..oh no….

Floyd made his way to the cell.

“Floyd no.” Velvet warned. Floyd ignored her warning…He crept closer and closer until he could make out the features of the Rageoun….The porcelain pale skin, the green swooped up hair…

“….Veneer…” He said. At that moment Veneer turned his head and made his way in attempts to grab Floyd. But he forgot about the glass cell. Veneer ran straight into it…it didn’t phase him one bit…Floyd saw the yellow in his eyes, the dark circles under them…He was thinner, and paler, bruise-like spots all around his skin. He didn’t speak, only mumbled and gurgled. He attempted to grab Floyd through the glass..but no success…The thing that stood in front of them… it wasn’t Veneer anymore. John Dory looked at Velvet.

“How long?” He asked. Velvet hesitated to answer.

“…He just got like this about 1 month ago…” Velvet stared at the ground. She spent the entire time here in the cell waiting for the infection to slowly take it’s toll on Veneer.

“Velvet…I’m sorry about your brother…but…we can still save you. Come with us. Maybe we can find a cure, save him before he gets worse…” Floyd was saying.

“STOP IT! No..im not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave him alone…We’ve been inseparable since…forever….” She looked at the creature that was once her brother. He crouched down rocking back and forth, humming some sort of tune. “Me and him are gonna go through his together too.” She pulled up her sleeve….a bite mark.

“No, Velvet!” John Dory exclaimed.

“I don’t know how it works. Veneer just got sick out of nowhere and now look….I was desperate…I just didn’t know what to do…So…I went to his cell and….” Velvet pulled down her sleeve. “I just don’t want to continue life alone…without my brother…”

Moments of silence passed between them….Veneer was long gone, and Velvet would be well on her way….Floyd couldn’t save them…They were just kids….He tried to find something he could say to her…something that would convince her to leave even if she was infected…They could still find a cure.

“Your brother was here…two months ago…before Veneer lost it.” Velvet said. The Trolls ears perked up. “He…he tried to get us out…But Veneer knew he was already infected…He didn’t go anywhere…neither did I…”

“Where was he going? What is he doing?” Floyd asked. Velvet stared off into the distance…a lost look in her eyes…she blinked and looked at the Trolls…

“Floyd? What are you doing here?” She asked. Tears began streaming down Floyds face….her memory was already leaving her….she’d soon be gone too.

“I’m so sorry….We couldn’t save both of you.” He cried.

#trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #velvet and veneer #trolls veneer #velvet trolls #veneer #fandom #velvet #velvet and veneer trolls #trolls fanfic #trolls fandom #trolls au #trolls #infection au #fanfiction #fanfics #fanfic #trolls floyd #john dory

[fanboymickey]

Mine

Summary: Music fic based off Taylor Swift’s Mine

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x High School Sweetheart!Reader

Word count: 2.0k

AN: This is the first of the Taylor Swift series with the TGM Characters. This isn’t beta checked so sorry about that. If you enjoy, I would gratefully appreciate you leaving a comment and/or reblog. If not, that’s also ok. As always, thank you for the support and I hope you enjoy.

This is the first installment in my Taylor Swift inspired song fics, which can be found here.

You just moved from Virginia, where you had spent most of your childhood, due to your father having been stationed there. Your parents divorce is how you ended up in your mom’s town in Texas living with her and your grandparents.

School was a place you knew you could escape your parents constant arguing and it helped that it was somewhere you excelled.

New schools were intimidating especially when your starting your sophomore year and everyone already knew everyone, but you eventually found yourself a group of friends that welcomed you with open arms. Within that group you met your best friend, Evelyn Seresin and her matching green-eyed twin brother, Jake.

You spent a year and a half going in circles around each other, him being one of the most popular kids in your grade and you struggling with the idea of love. Your examples of love consisted of your own parents marrying young and having you shortly after their 20th and 22nd birthdays. Their marriage was hardly something that led you to believe in love, your father having multiple affairs and your mother continually letting it happen until she found out he was leaving her for another woman.

Your feelings for Jake scared you, but you found yourself being pulled in by him every time you were around him. When he found out your favorite flowers were Tulips, he started calling you Tulip as if it was a secret way of saying I love you. You don’t know when your feelings started for him, maybe it was the first day you met in the hallway on the way to fifth period, or when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend during spring of senior year while sitting out by the water and him holding a bouquet of pink tulips or maybe it was when you got a little too drunk off grandpa Seresin’s super secret moonshine at a bonfire party and he made sure you got home safely despite him only just getting his license earlier that day.

It scared you that you knew what it meant when your heart skipped a beat and your palms get sweaty. You were scared of ending up like your parents, but you did your best to push those feelings away because you hope and pray that your love story is not the same.

I say, "Can you believe it?"

As we're lyin' on the couch

The moment I could see it

Yes, yes, I can see it now

The summer before college was a whirlwind, Jake joined the Navy and is attending College through them while you’re on a partial scholarship.

You and Jake found yourselves laying on the couch at his family’s house, cuddled up after watching a Disney movie marathon before your freshman year starts next week.

“Can you believe it?” You ask, leaning up on your arm from his chest.

“Can I believe what, Tulip?��� He looks at you, “Can you believe they all just find the love of their lives and get to live happily ever after?”

“I mean that’s like Disney’s whole deal.” He chuckles.

“I mean like the whole falling in love thing,” you pause, “it’s just so easy for them. What happens if they ever fall out of love?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, “That’s a cynical way to view it. What if they stay in love?” He challenges.

“Mhm, I guess that’s a possibility,” you hum.

“Do you not believe in love?” Sits himself up on the couch to get a better view of your face.

“I don’t not believe in love.” You pause, “Do you believe in love?”

“Mhm,” he gives you that one-hundred watt seresin smile, “because I love you.”

You stare at him for a minute and then pull him into a kiss, “I love you too,” you say through the kiss.

Flash forward and we're takin' on the world together

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded

You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

You stared at Jake while he sat there waiting for your answer, “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Do you ever think about what our marriage would look like?” He repeated.

“Uh, honestly, I haven’t really thought about marriage. I didn’t exactly have the best role models,” you looked away from him. You didn’t want to talk about your parents or the fact that you were estranged from them. You moved out once college started and spent holidays and breaks at Evelyn and Jake’s family’s house.

“You know we wouldn’t be like them,” he put his hand on your face and softly rubbed your cheek with his thumb, “I’d watch whatever romcom you wanted without complaining, I’d cook you breakfast in bed, I’d write you little cheesy love notes,” you interrupted him with a laugh.

“What’s so funny, Tulip?” He questions you.

“Sorry, but the picture of you cooking breakfast and writing cheesy love notes is hilarious. You can hardly flip a pancake.” You grinned.

He smirked, “Maybe I’ll learn before we have kids,” you chuckled, “little Jake and Ava will just have to go to learn to love oatmeal and cornflakes for breakfast,” you joke.

He raises an eyebrow and smirks, “Little Jake, you wanna have another Jake Seresin running around?”

“Maybe, not little Jake, that’d just inflate your ego.” You pull him into a kiss.

He deepens the kiss and then pulls away, “listen, as much as I wanna keep talking about this, my little Jake is feeling a little aroused.”

“Ew Jake,” you push him off you with a laugh, “never say that to me again or big Jake will never get laid again.”

But we got bills to pay

We got nothing figured out

You stared down at the test with a small but very visible plus sign. Thousands of thoughts rushed through your head, but all you wanted to do was puke. The two of you had just graduated college this past fall and been living together for six months. You were barely getting by and picking up extra shifts whenever you could get them. You had no idea how you would be able to afford a baby especially not when Jake’s dream job was still years away.

You heard the door to your tiny quaint apartment open and close. “Honey, I’m home.” You heard your sweetheart say. You rushed out of the bathroom to greet him.

“I’m pregnant.”

His smile dropped, “I got into flight school.”

You both stared at each other for a minute before you had both registered what had been said. You had known of his dreams to be a Naval Aviator, but you never could have planned the plot twist life just threw at you.

Braced myself for the goodbye

'Cause that's all I've ever known

Then you took me by surprise

You said, "I'll never leave you alone"

“Oh,” that was all you could bring yourself to say. You had begun to play with your fingers nervously feeling, once again like you had as a child. You were afraid this would be his opportunity to leave you like your father had. People didn’t stay long in your life, maybe this was only ever meant to be temporary too.

Jake quickly realized how fast you were beginning to close yourself off as soon as he saw tears slide down your cheeks. He moved closer to wipe your tears away.

“We have nothing figured out. We’re barely making ends meet as it is, how are we supposed to support another human?” You continued, “and then what happens when you get deployed? What if you get hurt and leave me?”

“We’ll figure this out,” He pulled you in close and wrapped you safely in his arms. “Tulip, I'll never leave you alone. I promise you.” He kissed your head as you cried into his chest. “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine.” You say to him softly through your tears. You had never felt safer than you had in this moment.

You also knew at this moment that you wanted no one, but Jake Seresin for as long as he’d let you have him. At the time you didn’t know it, but he was already thinking about what the future would look like for the two of you.

You said, "I remember how we felt sitting by the water

And every time I look at you, it's like the first time

I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter

She is the best thing that's ever been mine"

Your daughter, Molly, was now seven months old and you and Jake were bringing her to his parents ranch for her first Christmas.

“How’s my favorite niece?” Evelyn screamed and ran towards you and your daughter with open arms.

“She’s your only niece, Eve.” Jake laughed as he put down the empty baby carrier and held his arms open for her to hug him after hugging you and Molly.

“I missed you so much,” she loudly whispered to you and then moved on to hug Jake, “you’re my favorite brother.” She said giving him a squeeze.

“I’m your only brother,” he squeezed her, “you’re my favorite sister.” He laughed, “good, I’ll be sure to tell Sav, Kim and Ava.” She smirked.

“You’re my least favorite sister.” He said sarcastically, pulling away from her.

Later that day, you found yourself outside sitting on the dock by the lake that sat in the backyard of Jake’s parent’s ranch with Evelyn.

“I really did miss you,” Evelyn said looking at you from her cup of wine.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been the best about keeping in contact, it’s just having a baby changes a lot.”

“I know, it’s partially on me as well, but promise me we’ll always be best friends even though you’re with my brother.” She held out her pinky finger.

“I promise,” you say and wrap your pinky around hers, “You know I always knew you’d end up with Jake.” she gave you that familiar Seresin smirk.

“You knew?” you raised an eyebrow, “I mean yeah, you guys always ran in each other’s orbits,” she laughed, “If y’all didn’t get together Senior year, I was gonna lock you both in a room until you finally confessed your feelings.” She confessed.

“Oh my god, you were not!” You playfully push her.

“I was so sick of seeing you guys make googly eyes at each other. I’m just glad it worked out, I couldn’t think of someone better for Jakeor for you.” She pulled you into a tight hug.

“Am I interrupting something?” Jake asked while fiddling with the ring in his pocket.

Evelyn smiled at Jake, “Absolutely not,” she grabbed her drink and patted his back, “good luck little brother.”

“I’m two minutes younger,” Jake exclaimed while she walked away, “still younger than me.” She laughed and continued walking back to the house.

Jake made his way over to you. You stood up to give him a quick kiss and wrapped your arms around him, “Do you remember the last time we were here?”

“Yeah, you asked me to be your girlfriend.” You stared out at the lake while remembering that moment that changed your entire life.

Jake pulled out the ring and got down on one knee, “Y/N, I love you more than anything else, well besides Molly, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and making you happy. Will you marry me?” He waited hesitantly.

You stared down at him in shock, “Say yes!” You look over and see Evelyn holding Molly with Jake’s other sister’s and parents standing behind her.

“Yes!” You look back at Jake and smile with tears in your eyes.

Jake stands up and slides the ring into your finger. “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine.” He says into the kiss.

Yes, yes, do you believe it? (Hold on)

Yes, yes, we're gonna make it now (Hold on)

Yes, yes, I can see it

Yes, yes, I can see it now

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #tgm #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin #top gun fic #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun imagine #top gun x reader

[shigarakis-cumdump]

Intoxicating Love

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: You saw a new ad for a pheromone perfume online and you figured you'd give it a shot. Who knew it would work so well...

Cw: none

Word Count: 1.2k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You didn’t get to see Dabi much, and when you did, his attention was always elsewhere. He seemed like your little dates and hangouts were taking up his time, like he had better things to do. 

While scrolling on your phone, you get an ad for a new perfume that says, “Your boyfriend won’t be able to resist!” It was a pheromone perfume, something you had never heard of before. It said it smelt like musk, honey, and cinnamon, which all sounded like good scents to you. You placed your order as quickly as you saw the ad, and waited several days for it to arrive. 

When you had the perfume in hand, you sprayed a bit and it smelt sweet and warm. It didn’t make you feel anything like the ad said, but it smelt good nonetheless. You sprayed a bit on your neck and chest as you were getting ready for your date with Dabi. You planned a movie night at your place, and he should be arriving any minute. 

There was a loud bang at your door, and you raced downstairs to invite him in. 

“Hi Dabi!” you say enthusiastically as you practically drag him inside. 

“Someone’s excited to see me.” he says, throwing off his shoes and letting them go anywhere. He leans down to meet you and gives you a kiss. Almost immediately, he can sense something different about you, although he didn’t know what. 

“How was your day?” you ask. 

“It was definitely somethin’,” he replies. You were hoping he would add on, maybe give you some details or maybe notice your new smell, but he was just as cold as always. Your smile faded a bit, maybe it doesn’t work like the ad said. The two of you head into the living room where there’s tons of snacks laid out on the coffee table. You had a few choices of movies, and Dabi picked the horror one to watch. 

It was hard for Dabi to focus on the movie, not that he often came over for the activities you two did regardless. But it was a different feeling. Rather than his usual boredom, he kept getting the urge to fuck you. Don’t get him wrong, he always made sure to do that before he left, but his body was being impatient today. 

“Dabi, you okay?” you ask. He didn’t even realize his leg was bouncing since his mind was racing with thoughts of you underneath him in bed, crying his- 

“Dabi?” You batted your lashes, hiding a cynical smirk. Maybe the perfume was working after all. 

“Yeah, sorry doll. Long day,” he says, trying to evade the truth. 

“Do you need anything?” 

“Yeah, c’mere.” Dabi replied, opening up his arms to you. You jumped right in and tucked yourself between his chest and arm, being warmed by the heat he produced. He squeezes you tightly, almost a little too tightly just to bring you closer so he can smell you. 

“What’do you got on? It’s suffocating.” 

“Oh, I got this new perfume! Do you like it?” You ask. 

“It’s not bad,” he blankly replies. Truth be told, Dabi was obsessed with the smell. It was better than anything he ever smelt before and it was becoming insufferable to just continue sitting here and doing nothing. A bulge was growing in his pants, and it didn’t go unnoticed by you. You sneakily brought your hand over and started palming him slowly, just a tease. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t tease me like that..” he grunted. His hips jolted into your hand, desperate for more pleasure. You slipped your hand under his waistband and took hold of his dick, giving it small pumps. Dabi was looking down at you, thinking of how badly he wanted to ruin you and make you cry for him. Growing impatient and ever more horny, he huffed and stood up to take his pants off quickly. Dabi then pinned you to the couch, holding your hands above your head and craning his head down into the crook of yours to get another whiff of your perfume. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy, doll..” he groans, grinding his hips into yours. You giggled and matched his movement. 

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Dabi trailed one down your chest and burned your shirt off, exposing your tits for him to squeeze and kiss. You wanted to touch him back and make him feel good, but his other hand kept yours pinned down thoroughly, making sure you couldn’t escape. 

Fuck, so pretty under me like this, so helpless.” 

“Just for you~”

“Good girl, all f’me,” he replied, “let’s take these off, they’re just getting in the way..” he burned your pants and underwear off next, leaving you completely exposed to him. You squirmed because of the cold air, but that was quickly replaced with the heat of his hands down by your cunt. Dabi teased you a bit, rubbing your clit in small, circular motions. He was soaking up all the pretty noises you made for him, and he could feel you getting wetter by the second.  He took his 2 fingers plunged them into your pussy and stretched you out, scissoring and pumping them to warm you up. You whined and bucked your hips at the feeling, muttering Dabi’s name over and over. 

“What, you feel that good just from my fingers? We can’t have that..” He released your hands and lined his dick up with your hole before plunging in, taking no time to ease you into it. 

“Ah, fuck!” you screamed, eyes shutting tightly. Dabi caged you in, leaning over you with a heavy demeanor and a look of lust in his eyes. He was feral, hips speeding up as if he was humping you like a dog, not too worried about your pleasure since he could only focus on his raging hard on. “Slow down, Dabi, it’s too much!” You beg. You hug him, nails scratching up and down his back, leaving pretty red trail marks. 

“You feel too good, doll, fuck you’re so tight, keep squuezin’ around me like that, shit,” he said. Dabi’s face was latched onto your neck as he left dark hickies to remind people that you were his. You bucked your hips to match his pace, the only sounds heard in the room were slapping and moaning, the movie on the tv long forgotten. 

“Dabi, I can’t, I’m gunna cum!”

“Cum for me, doll, cum all around my cock, c’mon..” he groans. His thrusting doesn’t slow even as you’re coming down from your high, and you get overstimulated. 

“Dabi please, It’s too much, I can’t take it!” You’re shaking and twitching, cunt overstimulated by the constant pounding of his dick in that sweet spot. 

“Just hold on a little longer, baby, I know you can do it.” he tells you. 

It feels like an eternity before Dabi finally fills you up. He’s panting above you and you can’t help but smile at him. Some silly perfume made him crave you so bad, and boy did it work. Maybe you would wear this more often…

#dabi x reader #bnha #afab! reader #dabi smut #dabi #dabi bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #dabi drabble #dabi my hero academia #pheromones #pheromone perfume #begging #shigarakiscumdumpwrites

[drmslastmorning]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Forgiveness & Loneliness

Phantom pain / the rupture

Characters: Dream, Tommyinnit

Words: 2.2k (one-shot)

Warnings: nothing for once! maybe past mentions of abuse, torture. the usual prison talk.

Dream's been staying with Technoblade for a bit. Tommy gets talked into entertaining the idea of a conversation between them.

Dream places down a rock next to a few others. He looks like a child collecting rocks, surely even Techno would send mocking laughter his way if he saw him right now. The loneliness he feels without the other feels misplaced, but it's almost like he's homesick. Well, he guesses this cabin is his home, so he shouldn't be, but when he's alone, it just feels like that, a cabin. He doesn't feel at home. Tommy wants to make fun of him, but the comment gets stuck in his throat. 

"You look like shit," Tommy utters instead and he feels it's the most neutral thing he could've said. He doesn't have many positive words for the man across the room, nor does he plan on developing any. He's not quite sure why he's entertaining the thought of even talking to each other: as if that'd make a difference to the past. (It could make a difference for your future!), he recounts Phil's words in his head and massages his forehead with a sigh. He wonders if it's worth the hassle and he supposes it has to be, he's already here now. No backing out.

"Thanks." Dream swallows flatly and if he could disappear into the wall he's suddenly leaning against, he would. The room's illuminated by the fireplace and 2 gently lit lanterns, which Dream is still getting used to. He's not quite sure he'll ever be truly comfortable with the crackling of fire and the way it illuminates the room, but it's what makes Techno the most comfortable, so he supposes he'll put up with it. (He hasn't mentioned his discomfort, doesn't plan to.)

"So," Dream takes the lead, even though his throat dries up instantly. "Techno said to talk."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"That makes two of us." He mimics Tommy's sigh and it makes the other narrow his eyes at him.

"You're full of shit. I don't think you'd tell me a single truthful word." His voice drips with venom and it's increasingly clear that little will be achieved this way. He's unsure why Techno and Phil thought it would be a great idea to leave them alone like this. Hopefully Techno would be back soon.

Dream nods. "Let it out," he says in a manner that could be mistaken to be mocking, but he's mimicking again- This time the way Techno lets him go out on his cynical monologues. It does weirdly help when you're not being taken seriously whatsoever, as frustrating as it feels when you are monologuing.

"Don't make it sound like you care for what I have to say to you, shithead," Tommy curses, crossing his arms, sinking into the couch he's sitting on. Dream standing and him sitting gives him a weird feeling of power dynamic, but standing up would be admitting such and for once he's aware that he is simply imagining the notion. It's not mutual and if he acknowledges it it'll only give Dream an advantage - whatever that may mean in a situation such as this.

"This is pointless."

"I have to agree," Dream nods again, shaky fingers reaching out for one of the bigger rocks. They're cold, even though the room temperature feels like it's only getting warmer. It's probably not, but he feels like the heat is closing in on him. Every inch of his body hurts, it's phantom pains, Techno described it as. No shit, Dream had responded to that, he's not stupid.

"Do you want to leave?"

"I do," Tommy whispers, but shakes his head. "But I fucking- I guess I want peace too? You're- I don't ever feel at peace when you're there. But neither do I when- When you're not there." He just wants to feel alright. He wants to be capable of sitting here without feeling hands on his shoulder and hearing Dreams voice as if it was right by his ear and feeling like every inch of his body is owned by someone other than him.

"Right." Dream thought that's what it is and he can't blame him for the paranoia, considering he's the very source of it. "I don't have any motive to hurt you," he says, carefully.

Weirdly enough, the rocks do provide a source of comfort. Cold helps him ground himself, it helps him remember that he's not surrounded by obsidian and cut off from the world by a lava stream. But that's about as much as they do and he can't help but feel a little childish standing in the corner, holding rocks in between fingers and prosthetics Phil crafted for him. He's really good at making those and Dream's never asked why. He wonders, though.

"That's- that's the exact opposite of comforting. What the hell would you do if you did, huh?"

"Maybe I would hurt you then, yeah."

"Right. Fuckin'- Of course you didn't learn shit. I know you haven't changed a bit." Tommy feels a little ridiculous saying this to the pitiful mess cowering against the wall, but after years of paranoia it feels a little like instinct. He barks because he doesn't really have enough of a bite. But he's too scared to shut his stupid mouth. He'd bite, but Phil told him not to and for once in his life Tommy feels he should mature a little and listen. He knows, such a shocker.

"Eh, I'd say I've changed," the taller(or is he? Dream doesn't really know anymore.) hybrid rolls the rock between his shaking fingers, leaning his head against the wall. He feels dizzy, but there's nowhere nearby to sit down. His balance hasn't been the same, he still looks so much smaller than he did before. Tommy is really thin, but he feels even he's got more meat on his bones right now.

"Maybe not for the better like you seem to have- hoped. Sorry about that." His words feel mocking even to Dream himself, but he doesn't have the energy to put any empathy in his words. It wouldn't be true anyways, because he doesn't truly feel sorry. When he sees Tommy like that, he feels nothing but his usual sadistic streak biting at the back of his throat, he wants to fall back into every habit he learned in the past years. (Changing means the prison meant nothing. Getting better means the prison meant nothing. Regaining friendships and forgiveness and gentleness and kindness means the prison meant fucking nothing and he endured what he did for fucking nothing. The thought sends him spiraling.) His whole body aches. Changing means the prison means nothing. Changing means all of his trauma was for nothing. Being all buddy-buddy with Techno means distancing himself from everyone was for nothing. 

But he feels lonely. It's so laughable. He went through so much and now he feels like it was easier to deal with when he was rotting in prison. Now it just hurts and he has to confront it.

"Right-- Right you fucking are," Tommy hisses, finally getting off from the couch he's sitting on. He can't bear the perceived oppression any longer and he hates the way Dream winces into the wall when he does. He hates the way he can't take his eyes off him and he hates the pitiful way he's looking at him. "God damn, Dream. You look really damn pitiful right now, do you know that?" He hates it. His tail whips against the couch behind him, almost in a painful manner. 

Dream closes his eyes with a nod. "Mhm."

"I don't accept your apology, by the way."

"That's okay. I didn't mean it anyways," Dream admits, opening his eyes again. He's disoriented for a moment, before he finds Tommy again. He seems to have wandered around the room, closer to the fireplace. An intrusive thought itches him to push him into the flames, but he doesn't. He doesn't think he'd succeed anyways, and he's not sure if the fact that it seems impossible is the only thing stopping him. If it is, he must be closer to the Dream Tommy is seeing than even he thought he was. The pain didn't make him a better person. Unsurprising to the both of them. Pain didn't make either of them any better.

"Techno's really betting on the fact that you've changed," Tommy comments, finally having managed to tear his gaze from the other.

"I never promised him anything." It comes out a lot more defensively than he means it to.

"Well, I guess you haven't killed me. You've got that going for you," he exclaims sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe I'm just waiting for you to lower your guard."

"I could just kill you, too," the blonde says, looking back at Dream. They exchange stares.

"You could." Dream nods, breathing out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "But I don't think Techno would forgive you for that one."

"Hah. He doesn't care about me anyways. Why else do you think he's putting me in the same four walls as you?" Tommy grits his fists and he really wants to punch Dream. Maybe he could take that last life of his the same way he did his.

"I don't know. Certainly not for me. I barely even think about you anymore." That statement feels like a sting to his fucking chest and it snaps something inside of him. He stomps over to Dream and when he's standing in front of him, he suddenly feels taller. That wasn't the way he expected to feel so close to someone he fears so much more when he isn't even there. He hates that he isn't even scared of him.

"Are you going to punch me?" Dream looks at Tommy, and he does feel smaller. He's not sure if he actually is, it's been a while since they've been friendly enough to compare heights and last time he stood in front of him he was wearing platforms. He doesn't have the balance for those anymore.

"I was going to." Tommy is trembling. "I was fucking going to, Dream."

"Well, I'm not stopping you." Not that he could, anyways. He thinks about Techno, and he wonders how Techno would react if he returned to him dead on the floor. He's almost tempted to find out. He guesses he wouldn't see it, if he did die.

"Your pitiful act's working really well," Tommy curses under his breath and Dream wants to respond that it's not an act, but when he opens his mouth no sound comes out. Really proving the pitiful part of what Tommy said. Tommy can't do it. He wants to and he balls his fist and he feels like a fucking puppet on a string but he just can't do it.

"I'm not-- Yeah, you know what? I'm better than that. I'm not going to punch you. You're a fucking parasite, but I'm not going to fucking punch you."

Dream doesn't know how to argue against that. He doesn't know if it makes Tommy much better if he won't punch him. He'd almost argue he'd be doing them all a favor.

"It's not going to bring me fucking peace if I do. Your fucking- You're going to be a parasite regardless of if I kill you. It won't get you out of my head."

"Sorry about that," Dream says again, and it makes Tommy grit his teeth.

"Do you mean that?"

"I don't know."

"That's what I fucking thought. Your empty apologies mean fucking nothing to me." Tommy shakes his head, then steps away from him again. "I don't forgive you. I'm never going to." He feels so fucking lonely in Dreams presence. But it's almost worse when he's completely alone. He finds himself wondering if he should just run away. It's not worth it to wait for Techno to return. This is pointless.

Dream bites his lip. "Are you going to tell Sam?"

"Tell Sam what, bitch?"

Dream doesn't respond. He's not quite sure why he asked about Sam. Instinct, perhaps. He still sees him in everything. He still fears him too much.

"He knows you're here. He's the one who keeps warning me about you. The way he talks about you fucking weirds me out, actually." Tommy grabs a log and tosses it into the dying fire and for a moment he wonders how it'd feel to throw himself into the flames. He doesn't. It's a suicidal thought he hasn't had in a while. Maybe being around Dream is actually just making him worse again.

"So I haven't really- been talking to him. What am I going to tell him? Oh, Dream tried apologizing to me. Techno wanted me to fucking forgive him, by the way. Yeah, they've been fucking." Tommy snorts, falling onto the rug with a sigh, crossing his legs.

Dreams breath feels too short. His breathing is really shallow. "We haven't-"

"Whatever, man. Until you realize the fucking- Damage you did to me nothing is going to change."

A swallow. "I do. But I can't really force myself to feel bad for you."

Tommy laughs dryly. "Well, at least you're honest. I'll give you that, Dream."

"Thanks?"

"Let's wait for Techno in silence?," Tommy offers, having given up on the banter.

Dream laughs, a bit more genuine. "Yeah, sure."

#sixteenth-day-event #zzzz #I hate this but it's better than nothing #ask #cdream #sixteenthdayevent #cdiscduo #cdiskduo #yaft dream #yaft tommy

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 8

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: angst, self-hatred, self-doubt, mentions of death and grief, i’m fixing things <3

*Content warnings are updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.8K

Author’s Note: beta’d by @circle-with-me and @darksigns-exe, big fat colossal thank you for listening to me bitch and moan and whine and panic about this chapter for weeks. was really starting to think i’d never get this one out. anyway thank you everyone for your patience, please enjoy 🤍

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He doesn’t have the capacity to deal with it, the way they’ve been tip-toeing around him all morning. Folio flitters around wordlessly behind him, busying himself with one unimportant thing or another. Jolly has hardly made eye contact. Neither have said more than a good morning or excuse me.

Besides Jasmine, he doesn’t know what was discussed when Noah came in last. He’s afraid to ask, since it was seemingly enough to warrant the silent treatment. Or maybe they’re too nervous to scare him off again, but whatever it is, it’s making his skin crawl.

He’s inclined to let himself sit in it, allow himself to get used to the uncomfortable silence if it means not having to face any of this. But he already lost Noah—he barely had him to begin with, but he’d so quickly allowed himself to grow fond of him. It didn’t take any time at all to get used to how nice it felt to have him around, to wake up to a good morning text with a cheesy little emoji. He hadn’t had anything close to that in years. He’d forgotten what it was like, how much he liked it, how it made his stomach twist pleasantly. He wasn’t prepared for what a life without him would bring, how quiet and agonizing every moment would feel.

He can’t lose Jolly and Folio, too, not when they’re this close to being all he has left.

The bar isn’t nearly busy enough to distract him, anyway. He’s been here for two hours and no more than 2 customers have walked through the door, staying momentarily before walking back out. He’ll swallow his pride just this once, if it means breaking the deafening silence and going back to normal. Whatever his normal may be.

“Can we talk, or are you both going to ignore me all day?”

Folio leans against the bar fidgeting, while Jolly stares blankly at Nick with his arms crossed. It’s clear he’s going to have to do all the talking for the time being, and the idea alone turns his stomach. He hasn’t had a clear head in years, hasn’t had the ability to properly express himself in even longer, and he can’t do this.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” he finds himself asking, feeling indignant and knowing he’s chosen the wrong tone, the wrong words, the wrong way to approach this. It’s made even worse when Jolly doesn’t respond, looks anywhere but at Nick.

He knows he fucked up. He knows he is fucked up, but they’re his friends, not Noah’s. They’re supposed to be on his side.

“I just—” he starts, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. He’s humiliated enough as it is without begging for their support. “I just need you guys to be on my side. Please.”

Jolly’s arms uncross before he fixes Nick with a look that reads pity. He hates the way he shrinks into himself, feeling unbearably small, but it’s better than before. He prefers to feel pity over the miserable suspicion that he’s losing everyone.

“I think it’s time for you to let yourself have a good thing,” Jolly finally responds, and Folio promptly nods in agreement. Nick can’t help himself when his eyes roll back.

Maybe they’re right, but she’s the only thing he’s known for all these years. There’s a dread that overpowers him, nestles into his ribcage and twists, when there’s a moment he allows himself to consider letting go. He’s grown tired of the way everyone looks at him, though, like he’s this awful wounded thing.

Even after everything, he’s not used to this clawing emptiness that surrounds him. His head, normally torturously loud, sits quiet. He didn’t realize he’d have to lose one more person to finally have that. He always thought he’d be grateful when the moment finally came for him to have peace, but he finds that it isn’t what he wants.

He’d only just started enjoying the levity again, the feather-light weight of an existence with Noah in it. Now the silence, rather than peaceful, sinks heavily around him. He doesn’t think he deserves to have that floaty feeling, but he begins to wonder if it’s worth denying himself any longer.

“I can’t, Jolls,” he finds himself responding. There’s something caught in his throat, his vision blurring. He’s so exhausted. “I don’t know how.”

When Jolly sighs, it doesn’t feel like a disappointment. Jolly has always had the least amount of patience for his bullshit, but there’s a softness to his sigh, a sorrow that makes him feel awfully guilty.

“You have to, Nick,” Folio interjects. Nick feels as his body starts trembling—he knows something has to change, but he doesn’t know how to do it. There’s a comfort in Folio’s touch when his hand wraps loosely around Nick’s bicep, and he lets himself sink into it for a moment. There’s no fight left in him to stop the tears from spilling, feeling humiliated as he wipes them away. “Your life didn’t end at 29. You have to stop acting like it did.”

Hers did, he thinks to himself but doesn’t dare speak aloud. Even he knows that she would hate for him to be living his life this way. He can see the exact look she would fix him with, shoving at his shoulder, telling him to stop being silly.

She would be so ashamed.

There’s a beat where he lets the realization register before the door is being swung open, slamming violently back closed with an audible cracking sound.

He connects the thundering footsteps approaching to a face he distantly recognizes. His mind flits from confusion to a painful melancholy as he places her.

“Autumn?” he asks, but her pace doesn’t slow—her expression growing angrier than it was when she first stomped through the door.

He hasn’t seen her since the funeral, or heard from her in almost as long. He can’t begin to imagine what she’s doing in his bar, fuming, staring at him like she wants to wring his neck.

“We need to talk about Noah,” she says. It’s not at all what he expected, and his heart sinks.

There are so many questions he wants to ask, but none of them seem right. He watches pitifully as his circle narrows, as his life gets smaller and smaller and everything gets harder to outrun. Everything is all too connected.

He settles on the question that feels most pressing.

“Is he okay?” Nick asks, regretting it immediately as Autumn rolls her eyes. She always was a protective friend, more than once cornering him at a party when Jasmine had gone to the bathroom.

He’s grateful Noah has someone like that, though he’s not grateful to be at the receiving end of it again, no matter how much he deserves it.

“No, Nick, you destroyed him,” Autumn seethes, and it’s a punch to the gut, not that it surprises him. “He was so sure about you and now he’s been at home for days crying because you don’t want him. I can’t let anyone hurt him again, so tell me. What the fuck happened?”

The again that Autumn tacked on doesn’t go unnoticed. His heart shatters all over again when he thinks of Noah crying over him, feeling undesired or unwanted. Every decision leading up to letting Noah down was harder than the last.

He does want him. More than almost anything, he wants him.

“You know better than anyone, Autumn,” Nick tries to reason with her. It’s not like he wants this, exhausted and working against himself as he slogs through every day. “You knew her better than anyone. You know why I can’t—”

“No way is this about Jazz,” she says, interrupting him. She sighs, and there’s a softness in her gaze that he remembers. But she’s so, so angry, and he’s not sure who for. “She wouldn’t want you to be living your life like this. She loved you so much and she would be so hurt if she knew you were stopping your life for her. You know that.”

And he knows she’s right. He’s known it the whole time. It makes it all worse.

“I can’t let her go,” He miserably admits, on the verge of tears again. “Noah deserves someone better than me. Who isn’t so fucked up.”

Noah deserves someone perfect. He wants it to be him.

“He decided on you,” Autumn reminds him, matter-of-fact. “No one’s making you let her go, especially not Noah. But you can honor her memory by not letting her death ruin your life. Let yourself have a good thing. She would want you to.”

It’s like they rehearsed it, Jolly and Folio and Autumn. Let yourself have a good thing. He knows they didn’t, and that’s what makes it worse. That means it’s true, that he deserves it.

He considers it for a long moment. There isn’t a whole lot left to say. He’ll decide in the moment—he can’t screw things up worse than they already are.

“Should I call him now?” Nick asks, and Autumn raises her eyebrows, surprised. Jolly makes a shocked little sound. Autumn motions for him to go ahead.

The line rings and rings and rings. His anxiety spikes, and he’s sure it’s clear in his eyes. “He is working, at the shop,” Autumn tells him. “You could text.”

Can we talk?

A minute passes. Then two. Then five. He hates standing here under their watchful eyes, waiting for a text to fix his life. A read receipt, and still no response.

He wonders if Noah feels as panicked as he does.

Please, Noah. I have to talk to you.

The three dots that appear taunt him. The response comes quick enough.

Come by at 8.

He lets out a breath—the panic continues to rise, but at least there’s something. A chance.

“I’m coming by at 8,” Nick says, voice wobbly and humiliating.

Autumn nods, muttering out a simple good, see you then before turning on her heels and leaving, seeming awfully self-satisfied. He’ll have to thank her later.

“How are you feeling?” Jolly asks, sounding a little unsure himself. Folio claps him on the back so hard he stumbles forward, already weak on his feet.

He feels sick. It’s a good sick, he thinks.

“Like I’m going to throw up.”

Parked outside of Noah’s, working up the courage to go in, he does the only thing he knows will make it all feel complete. Permanent and real.

“Hi, honey,” comes his mom’s voice through the phone, clear and bright.

“Hi, mama,” he responds, taking a deep breath in. “I want to talk to you about a boy.”

Tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical . @sitkowski

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hello! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if you could write a Morpheus x mortal!reader where he has a crush on her and Idk maybe they’re friends or something and he sees her kissing another guy at a party and gets jeaulous.

Or… maybe a Morpheus x Johanna’s apprentice!reader where they have to go on kind of a mission together to help/save Johanna and they end up falling in love?

Couldn’t choose between the two tbh 😅 Any of them would be fine. If its okay for you, ofc!

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

[TW: religious themes, demons, swear words] Sandman-inspired playlist

"I'm looking for Johanna Constantine," stated the stranger standing at your threshold. He was dressed in all black with pasty white skin that made him look either emaciated or vampire-like. Either way, it was a very uncommon taste but you didn't expect anything else from your boss's acquaintances.

"You and me both, man," you answered as you leaned against the doorframe. "She was supposed to go to some town outside of London, look at a girl and come back. Maybe do an exorcism but she sounded convinced it wouldn't be needed."

"When was that?"

"Like two days ago?" you said with a shrug. Most of the time, Johanna was stuck in a cycle of disappearing and showing up shortly after without even a scratch.

The stranger leaned in. His dark eyebrows furrowed only furthering his intimidating appearance. "And you haven't thought of finding her?" he asked in an unnerved voice.

"Of course I did!" you exclaimed while throwing your hands in the air. The last thing you wanted or needed was a random man suggesting you were irresponsible. "Who do you have me for, raven boy? The only thing stopping me from going after her is herself. Have you ever seen Johanna angry? No? I have and now I don't watch scary movies with my light on because I know there are worse things."

"Where is Johanna?" The man was growing impatient and angry. Whatever he needed her for, it was something that clearly couldn't wait.

The stranger's irritation was, truthfully, an expression of your own worries and desperation - lead-like dread had been sitting in your abdomen for the entire day. Perhaps it was time to brave through your fear of Johanna's anger and show some agency. "She's supposed to be in Dover, like 2 hours from here. I'll grab my keys and we can go."

But Morpheus grabbed the sleeve of your jacket before you could walk away. You were about to scold him, tell him that he's being very forward to a person he had only just met, but suddenly you weren't in your small apartment in London. In the distance, you heard sea waves crashing against cliffs and a flock of seagulls screaming over the shore: undoubtedly, you had found yourself in Dover.

"Come," he called out behind you. Judging by his aloofness, he must have often just reappeared wherever he wanted.

Turning around towards Morpheus, you saw a brick mansion with thick ivy covering its walls. The windows were either too dirty to see through them or the architect was strangely fond of opaque glass. The paint was chipping off the wooden door, silently suggesting that no one had taken care of the house in a long while. A murder of crows seemed to have taken over the mansion - a row of black birds sat along the ledge, staring at the two unwelcome guests. They seemed to grow irritated as their loud caws did not scare you off from their den.

"Creepy old house," you slowly said to yourself as you took in the disturbing sight. "That's definitely on my jeepers-creepers bingo."

"Did Johanna employ you as a jest?" His tendency to speak in a quite monotone voice made it difficult for you to decide whether it was a genuine question or an attempt at being mean.

"I hope not. I tend to have a very limited repertoire of cynicism and self-deprecation."

Suddenly, a muffled scream reached your ears. Among the crashing waves and seagulls it would have been impossible to hear it had you been standing even a few meters farther from the house. The crows also contributed to the general disruption. Wickedness, quite curiously, came with a drop of genius.

"Basement. Of course," you said in a low voice while slightly nodding to yourself. "Let's go."

Entering the cellar, your nostrils were instantaneously filled with the putrid smell of mould and rotting blood. The floor was covered in something wet and you were suddenly grateful for the lack of light in the concrete corridors - it was better to naively assume it was just water from faulty, old plumbing. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you followed Morpheus and his strides towards the screams and rattling of chains that only grew louder with each of your rushed steps.

With trembling hands, you pushed open the door at the end of the dark corridor. Sure enough, on the other side, you found the source of the blood-chilling screams. Across the concrete room was a man dressed in a cassock, who was speaking in a language you had never heard before. Was he... praying? High above his head levitated Johanna's body with limbs stretched out so much they threatened to completely dismember her at any second. She must have been screaming for hours on end as her voice became raspy. So far, both of them seemed to be unaware of your presence.

"A satanic priest. Because there wasn't anything more cliche," you whispered.

Morpheus was about to take a step towards the possessed man and suffering Johanna but you grabbed his arm. He looked at you with nothing short of annoyance - you were, clearly, treading on thin ice.

"You may be an expert on pulling Houdini-worth tricks but this is my field of expertise. Like it or not, I need you to trust me with your life for the next bit," you spoke quietly. Every now and then you'd look towards the horrifying sight on the other side of the room to make sure that you still had the element of surprise.

Rummaging through the pockets of your jacket, you pulled out two containers and shoved them in Dream's chest. With vivid unsureness, he took them from you. "Holy water and blessed salt," you explained. "Throw it at him or around him. It won't kill the demon but will surely weaken it. I'll do the talking."

Having said those words, Morpheus left your side to march towards the possessed priest. You took in a deep, slow breath to try and calm yourself. As an apprentice, you knew that the day of your trial was coming sooner or later but you never thought that the life of someone you cared about would be part of it. A grim duty fell on you - there was no one else who could help Johanna before she dies from the ritual she was currently undergoing. Whatever happens now, was to forever remain your sole responsibility.

Johanna had made you practise the exorcism prayer so many times you learned it barely a few weeks into your apprenticeship. It was just a strange skill at the time but now, when her life and well-being were in your hands only, it was akin to a superpower. Having taken in another deep breath, you began reciting the formula as fast as you could while maintaining the necessary clarity of speech.

The demon was no longer oblivious to your pesky presence but Morpheus did an excellent job at keeping it distracted enough to not go after you or poor Johanna. Considering how much of the blessed salt and holy water actually ended up on the possessed man, Dream had an exceptional aim. A blood-chilling scream resounded once more but this time it didn't belong to Johanna: it was the demon, crying out at the pain of being torn out of a corporeal form. His agony could partially be accredited to the sole fact that he was going to be banished to Hell, a place even demons feared and disliked.

Once the demon was exiled from this realm, Johanna's body hit the concrete floor of the basement with a muffled thud. Then, a groan left her mouth and you sighed in relief. Even if her bones were shattered, she was alive. Wasting no time, you run towards her to help her get up.

Straining to stand up, Johanna groaned out: "Well, that was really fucking fast."

"Yeah, I had my Eminem phase in middle school," you answered dismissively as you put her arm around your neck for better support.

"What took you so long?"

"I didn't actually think you were in trouble, Johanna. He brought me here because he wants something from you." Only when you motioned your head towards the black-haired man did she notice him. She let out an irritated sigh but it was quiet enough that only you heard it.

After a few limping steps, Johanna was well enough to walk on her own or at least she claimed so. She crossed her arms on her chest as she approached Morpheus, whose expression remained ever so unreadable. Apparently, an exorcism wasn't enough to elicit emotion from him. Johanna gave you a meaningful stare and you knew it was time for you to go and irritate the crows outside with your unwelcome presence.

Long minutes went by when you were staring at the sea and cliffs in the distance, listening to the shrieking and cawing of the black birds over your head. What was taking them so long? Among the noise, you heard someone's footsteps behind you: it was Morpheus but curiously, he came alone.

"Where's Johanna?" you asked.

"There were affairs she needed to see through before leaving," he answered while approaching you. Barely a meter or two away from you, he just stopped. Morpheus simply stood there, the sea breeze tugging at his dishevelled hair. He stared at you with flustering intensity as if he was trying to look through you and inspect the particles of your very soul.

After a while, his silent gawking became so uncomfortable you couldn't ignore it any longer. "Okay, what is it?"

"You are an absolutely aggravating creature," Morpheus stated while still looking at you with that stern, cold stare. His voice was so low, slightly raspy, that you felt it down to the marrow of your bones. "But I can not bring myself to hate you."

A playful smile crept unto your face. Maybe the raven guy wasn't the killjoy he introduced himself as. "Funnily enough, I was about to say the same thing. This whole 'woe me' brooding thing you have going on is infuriating. But it's also giving me very un-churchy thoughts."

Suddenly, something about his expression changed: a glint of mischief glistened in his blue eyes and one corner of his mouth pulled up ever so slightly. "Would you like to hear mine?"

You were about to answer him something equally suggestive when Johanna made her presence known: "Get a fucking room you two!"

#the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman #morpheus imagine #morpheus sandman #morpehus #morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #lord morpheus x reader #lord morpheus x you #lord morpheus #lord morpheus fanfiction #lord morpheus imagine

[imaginmatrix]

Prompt: Moonlight

I have no clue where the short that this one word prompt inspired came from, but I hope you enjoy

Percy’s mother used to say there was magic in the light of the moon. She said the silver rays could carry any number of impossible things from the stars to the earth; strange beings and mysterious items and concepts like fate and destiny would ride those gossamer bands like a tidal wave to shift the mundane to wondrous.

And then, of course, Percy got older and learned that the moon merely reflected the light of the sun, and was little more than a barren rock doomed to encircle the earth however gravity dictated until the day an asteroid collided a bit too hard and freed it to the lonely emptiness of space. He wasn’t necessarily a practical guy who dismissed fairytales and children’s stories, but he was a cynic, and his mother’s stories lost much of their shine in the wake of losing her.

She used to joke she might choose to become the moon when she died, so she could watch Percy grow and live even after her story was over. But they both assumed they’d have more time before that happened.

These days, the moon was just a rock, the stars just burning balls of gas, and magic was a lie of his childhood.

“Those things kill, you know.”

Percy’s dark brows raised, his face turning to the blonde girl who criticized his life choices before even having the decency to introduce herself. The roof party behind them was abuzz with life; string lights gave a hazy glow to the young adults lounging on sofas and sipping bottles of some sort of craft beer that tasted like shit but all the hipsters pretended was a divine elixir of craftsmanship.

He was on the outskirts, leaning on the stone wall of the roof, puffing smoke from his cig into the dark and staring at city lights.

And now she was too.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head and tugging the cigarette from between his lips, “Pretty sure that’s common knowledge at this point.”

“And yet here you are, turning your lungs to raisins anyway.”

Percy was both annoyed and intrigued, almost impressed at her audacity. He didn’t care much for being scolded; he was an adult. He could make whatever bad decisions he wanted.

But this girl was direct. Plenty of people hated cigarettes, but most would wrinkle their nose and move away, or cough dramatically to make a point without words, or mutter to their friends about the disgusting habit. Not the girl beside him. She walked right up and pointed out the obvious, said what most wouldn’t dare say to a stranger.

Percy could admire that.

“Well?” The girl asked expectantly, as if Percy was supposed to answer a question that was never actually voiced.

“Well what?” He stubbed out the cigarette, leaning away from the girl to toss what was left into the bin nearby.

“Why do you smoke.” She said, as if it were obvious.

Percy shrugged, “I don’t know.”

But he did know.

His mother never smoked a day in her life. Yet cancer made its home in her lungs anyway. So maybe it was to spite the universe for that, or maybe it was to dare it to take him out the same way. Maybe it was just self flagellation for being here when she wasn’t. There was nothing to blame himself for, nothing he could have done to stop her from getting sick, but some sort of guilt gnawed through his chest anyway.

So he dampened that guilt by putting chemicals in his body.

Or maybe he was just an idiot who smoked because he tried it once and got hooked, like every other person who relied on the stuff to get through the day.

“Well you should stop.”

Another incredulous laugh rasped from Percy’s throat, “Never heard that one before.” He finally turned to face the girl properly.

And then something that was neither smoke nor guilt filled his chest.

She was pretty, but Percy had seen pretty before. This was different. This was…

Intense.

There was something in her expression that felt a thousand years old; she was clearly around his age, but her gaze had seen the rise and fall of empires, revolutions, tragedies, and everything that filled the eons between.

But she was just a girl, and Percy was a bad poet, and he swallowed a sudden bitter taste in his mouth as he found words to combat the way she seemed to see right through him.

“Do you usually berate people you’ve just met, or am I special?”

She looked thoughtful, “A bit of both.”

“Yeah?” Percy wished he wasn’t a smoker, just so it would be easier to catch his breath around this girl, “What makes me special, then?”

“You’re in my spot.” She turned back to the city, those eyes shifting from his face and her profile caught the light in a near halo. The sensation of her focus leaving him had Percy desperate to hold it again.

“So you live here?” He leaned beside her, back to the wall so he could better see the slope of her nose and the curve of her lips.

A nod, “It’s my roommate’s party.”

Now an answering brow raise, “I thought it was a housewarming thing?”

“It is.”

“So wouldn’t this technically be your party too?”

Another shrug, but the continued conversation saw that her head turned back to him and Percy felt himself drown in the impossible gravity of her attention once more. “I’m not really a party person.”

“Me neither.” At her pointed look that said ‘but you’re at this one?’ he clarified, “I was dragged along.”

This answer was satisfactory, “You’re Percy then.”

Hearing his name from the lips of a stranger, particularly this stranger, was startling. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Because you’re the only person here I don’t recognize, and Charles said you were coming.”

“Right.” A beat. “And you’re…?”

“Annabeth.”

It wasn’t a name Percy had ever heard before, but as soon as she said it, it became one he knew he’d never forget.

Annabeth’s gaze turned out and up again. A silence settled over them.

Percy was frantically searching for something to say, a question, a statement, anything to keep the conversation going, when Annabeth spoke again; “You can’t see the stars.”

It took a moment for his brain to catch up, “…What?”

“Light pollution.” Annabeth nodded to the city, “It hides the stars.”

Percy glanced up, the sky dark and empty while something old and primal tugged at his gut and whispered that it shouldn’t be. “You can see a fair amount in Montauk.”

“I’ve never been.”

“I’ll take you some time.” It slipped out before Percy could consider the fact that inviting a girl he just met to drive outside the city with him to look at stars was weird, but to his relief she smiled.

“I’d like that.” Annabeth fixed him with her gaze once more. And once more it was crushing, and Percy was close enough now to make out the color of her eyes.

Some people might have called them gray, but a word so colorless and boring couldn’t come close to what they were. Silver was the closest, Percy decided. Silver and seeing every little hope, fear, desire, and secret Percy had buried deep down, as if he was laid bare without clothes or even a physical form to hide in.

Percy cleared his throat, “At least you can still see the moon.”

Annabeth didn’t look back to the sky when she said “Not tonight. It’s a new moon.”

Could have fooled Percy, the silver glow of Annabeth’s irises a fine replacement. Even better, as she carried two moons in her eyes, rather than just the one that hung in the sky.

“Ah. Well. Tomorrow then.”

“Mmm.”

Silence again. God. The silence hurt— not a sharp pain, but a dull ache, like the moment between comfort and burning when one held their breath for too long.

And he’d known the girl for less than ten minutes.

But in that time, he had decided to quit smoking, take her to see the stars in Montauk, and let her occupy every corner of his mind for as long as she deigned to stay for.

The numbness that plagued every waking moment for the past 3 years ebbed.

“Do you—“

“I think—“

They spoke at the same time. Annabeth laughed breathlessly, complimenting Percy’s own nervous chuckle.

“You first.” Percy said.

“No, no, you go.”

“I insist.”

Annabeth scrunched up her nose, making freckles Percy hadn’t noticed sharpen. “I think,” she started again, “that I’d like to go inside.”

Percy’s heart sunk, “Oh, uh, yeah, it’s kind of cold.”

Annabeth didn’t move, instead staring at him in a way that had him squirming, thinking there was something he should be doing that he wasn’t.

“…Are we going in, then?”

Percy jolted at the realization that he was invited. “Y-yeah!” He shoved his hands into his pockets, pushing off the wall.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, tucking a curly lock behind her ear as they walked back to the exit. Percy wondered what it would be like to do that, to reach out and brush errant locks from her face.

They stopped at the door to the stairs, and for the first time since they’d met, Annabeth seemed hesitant.

“I don’t… do this often.”

Percy furrowed his brow, “Do what?”

“Invite guys I just met to my bedroom.”

Oh.

His brain short circuited— inside meant inside, bedroom meant bedroom, she’d said inside, she’d meant bedroom, and he…

Holy shit.

Percy licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and throat working to form a sound, any sound.

“R-right. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, me neither— I mean I have, but I don’t usually, it’s not like, a common thing, it’s not a normal weekend occurrence, I don’t go around picking up girls for one night stands and if I did I wouldn’t like, uh, leave it as a one night stand, I mean at least not these days—“ He bit his tongue to make himself shut up, because dear god that was way too much in response to a simple statement.

He’d made poor choices right after his mom died. Percy had never been one for casual: not casual sex, nor casual dating. He wasn’t that guy. He didn’t generally feel attraction unless he knew someone first, gotten to know them, fall in love with them.

But after his only family had died, he grew desperate to feel anything. Even self-loathing.

This… wasn’t that.

Maybe it was the fact that this girl, Annabeth, had no qualms about shaming him for a bad habit. Maybe he was just cold. Maybe it was the loneliness of a party he couldn’t find the strength to be a part of, to try and put on a smile and make friends and drink shitty beer and pretend everything was fine.

Maybe it was the moonlight in Annabeth’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Percy couldn’t help but want this. Not in the self-destructive way of his past that left him feeling cold and empty. It was something different, it was…

He wasn’t sure.

Annabeth was smiling though, thankfully amused by his rambling rather than weirded out, and she reached a hand to lace their fingers together. “I’ll show you my record collection.” Her eyes drifted up and down Percy’s body in the least subtle way possible. “You look like a guy who likes music.”

Percy’s chuckle was strained, but his shoulders relaxed, “I’ve been known to sometimes enjoy sounds, yeah.”

Annabeth’s laugh made his skin tingle.

Her hand was warm and soft and fit perfectly against his calloused one.

Her eyes shone like the moon his mother loved so much did; they reflected the light in a way that Percy swore defied physics, holding all the things his mother promised moonlight would. Adventure. Magic. Mystery.

A promise of something more.

And as Annabeth blushed and ducked her head when Percy held the door open for her

as she led him down the concrete stairwell to a new apartment and room with lights so warm and comforting, they put those on the roof to shame

as they sat on the floor and looked at records and picked out their favorite songs

as Moon River played on the turntable and Percy met those eyes that held not just the moon, but the stars and sun and planets and entire galaxies

as he reached for her, tucking those blonde curls behind her ear like he’d been itching to, watching her lashes flutter and her breath catch and her cheeks flush with color and her eyes drop to his lips and back up

as they both leaned in

Percy thought that maybe, just maybe

his mom was right about the moon.

#morgan murmurs #writing #prompt #knowall7k #fanfiction #I have no idea where this came from what the heck #pjo #Percabeth #pjo fanfic #Percabeth fanfic #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase