#And before that it was in all caps in my phone notes like DON’T LOSE THIS DON’T FORGET!!!!!!! lol

[msschemmenti]

lips 💋

jennifer jareau x reader

a/n: i had two different ideas for this we’ll see which one makes it out of my notes app. a lil ficlet because im literally so obsessed with her rn

what was her deal today? there was a stack of case files spilling out of her inbox on the corner of her desk. her phone had about 20 voicemails from detectives all over the country. there was so much work to do and yet she’d spent the day staring across her desk at her co-worker. jj was truly at a loss today. after lunch with no case in sight— she’d pretty much deemed the day a loss in regards to productivity. and as frustrated as she’d be tomorrow, she really couldn’t bring herself to care too much today.

y/n had to be doing it on purpose. it was as if every time jj’s eyes were on her, she’d lick her lips, or she’d be biting the cap of her pen, or reapplying her chapstick. jj all but crawled across the desk separating them when y/n removed her glasses and started sucking on one of the legs in thought as she worked through a file. by 3pm she was beginning to lose her mind.

she’d gotten lost in y/n shiny lips again when a ball up piece of paper collided with her forehead. shocked at the interruption, jj looked around the bullpen for the culprit. everyone’s heads were buried in files but a familiar snickered came from the set of desks next to her own. emily’s shiny black hair bounced with laughter causing jj to roll her eyes. emily only grinned and lifted her empty coffee mug toward the kitchen.

jj followed her with her own mug and sidled up beside her in the tiny kitchenette. “am i that obvious?” jj asked quietly, eyes still trained on the younger agent, hard at work.

“unbelievably so. i knew you guys liked to flirt but i hadn’t realized you’d taken the banter to the next step.”

“next step? what do you mean?” jj asked in confusion.

“jayje, you’re looking at her like you tasted the most intimate parts of her. like you can’t wait for it to be 5pm so you can take her home and reacquaint yourself with all your favorite parts of her. like you wanna take her right-“ emily explained dramatically, sloshing the coffee in her mug around as she talked.

“okay! that’s a bit more detailed than i think is necessary. and unlike what you so openly suggested we’ve not taken any steps. i just don’t know what it is today. i’m damn near mesmerized. i’ve got to get a grip before she notices. which won’t take long considering you’re launching paper balls at my head.” jj grimaced.

“well it’s almost quitting time, i’m sure you can make something happen.” emily grinned.

jj shook her head swiftly and turned to head back to her desk, “in my dreams. i think ill just stick to admiring from a far for now.”

emily shook her head and followed jj out, extending a napkin to her before sliding into her desk chair. “if that’s the case, this is for the droll puddle you’ve been building all day. wouldn’t want to flood you inbox, hm?” jj ignored emily with a shake of her head and went back to trying to look like she was working and not shamelessly fantasizing about devouring y/n’s lips.

somehow, y/n and jj ended up being the last two leaving the bullpen this evening. well jj had been too distracted to realize anyone else had left and y/n had been working through one last file. so when she closed the file and met jj’s eyes she almost smirked at the dazed look on the blonde’s face. “aw how chivalrous, did you wait for me?”

there wasn’t anything chivalrous about it. jj mentally chastised herself for the thought and forced herself to nod. “we both know how dangerous it is to have a pretty woman like you walking around by yourself at night. figured i’d walk you to your car.”

y/n grinned then shooting jj a playful wink as she gathered her things, “well let’s get a move on then. i don’t wanna keep you here any longer than necessary. today felt exceptionally long.”

jj hummed in agreement and both women started for the elevator. as they waited, jj rocked on the balls of her feet anxiously. willing herself to be normal and not obvious. they stepped in the elevator and rode it all the way down in silence. jj was almost home free. until her determined coolness was shattered as y/n laughed sweetly as the elevator doors slid open.

“so you gonna kiss me or what?” y/n smirked, hands on her hips.

jj sputtered a bit at the direct question, “uh, what?”

“oh come on jen, you’ve only been saying it with your eyes all day. normally you can conceal it a bit better but today it was like it was written on your forehead.” y/n grinned stepping into jj’s space.

“normally? what do you mean?” jj almost pouted.

“oh sweets, you might be good at poker and all but i know desire when i see it.” y/n places her hand on jj’s cheek with an affectionate pat. “so what’ll be? am i going home without a kiss or what? i’ve only been waiting for two years.”

jj huffed indignantly but wasted no more time and pulled the woman into a bruising kiss. one that had them both panting for air when they finally fell apart. they rested their foreheads together as they caught their breath and y/n was the first one to break the charged silence. “you lasted longer than i thought you would. i just knew when i was sucking on my glasses you’d break.”

jj gasped and squeezed at y/n’s waist, “i knew you were doing it on purpose! i thought i was going crazy.”

y/n shrugged with a smile, “you left me no choice. flirting with you for two years didn’t seem to do the job. i had to take matters into my own hands.”

jj groaned but leaned in again, lips only ghosting over y/n’s. “i can’t believe this…”

“you weren’t complaining a second ago, why start now?”

“oh trust me, i’m not. merely surprised it all.”

[somegrumpynerd]

9 days bro

Oh I didn’t know it did that!! :O that’s so cool

And also!!

I put it on my calendar so I wouldn’t forget c:

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, final phase.

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), brief arguing.

➴ word count: 2.6k

💌 from me to you: and this, my loves, is the end of fake it ‘till you make it (for now!!). thank you so much for supporting me and my stories and thank you for this playlist that got me through this chapter. anyways, i’m so excited for you all to read the rest of this universe that i’m going crazy. hope you enjoy!!!! xxx

𖧷

nicohischier

liked by njdevils, nataliebrooks, _quinnhughes and 29,103 others

nicohischier #Life 😌😁

View all 2,083 comments

user1 What does this even mean

user2 Nico are you cheating on me

user3 TOLD YALL THEY ARE LITERALLY MARRIED WITH KIDS

emmaroberts when did you even take that 😓

user4 Cap got his first hat trick and a girlfriend in less than three months

elladavis em looks sooo cute 🥹

user5 I thought i could keep convincing myself they were just friends but this ?????????

user6 Captain Dimples has a girlfriend (and she’s not me)

user7 the ���#life 😌😁” is killing me

user8 user7 Like he really said Idgaf and went to sleep

user9 user8 beside emma

𖧷

YOU GRUNTED, almost throwing your phone away when you entered Nico’s apartment, which was basically your second house now.

There were tiny, somewhat insignificant things around his place that reported that you two were together, things like your hairbrush in his bathroom, your toothbrush beside his, your books and phone charger on his bedside table.

Or maybe the fact that he keeps buying the sweets he knows you like, or when he changed the brand of softener he used because you once briefly mentioned that it made your nose itch.

You won’t deny that you’re happy with the fact that he seems pleased to have you around, but you’re still not sure if you want to move in with him— your story already sounds crazy and fast paced enough.

Still, you enjoy spending your days off with him, especially when he’s also at home, which is tonight’s occasion. He’s sitting on the couch watching The Godfather when you enter the house, but you don’t even have time to properly greet him before Richard starts talking again.

“Technically, it wasn’t due until 5 p.m. today. So, no need to get your... keyboard in a knot.”

You scoff. “My keyboard in a— what?! Richard, I was waiting for your notes last night so I could approve it. I guess I didn’t factor in your busy schedule of... what was it? Two hours chatting up Emily from graphics?”

“Oh, come on,” he laughs, like he didn’t delay a week’s worth of work. “It wasn’t two hours. More like 45 minutes. And anyway, building relationships in the office is important, Emma. You should try it sometime.”

“Building relationships? Is that what we’re calling shameless flirting now?” you ask, voice filled with rage. “Good to know. Next time I don’t meet a deadline, I’ll just say I was networking over cocktails.”

“Listen, Emma—”

“No, you listen,” you say, finally tired after thirty minutes of arguing with your colleague. You place your bag on the coffee table, and almost lose your arguments when you find Nico’s puppy, almost scared eyes looking at you. “Jake, who’s a father of two adorable, sweet girls, had to stay at work way past his work hours, re-writing half of your article. Not to mention Melissa, who also had to stay late because your inspiration left her waiting for the graphics requests you didn’t submit.”

“Ain’t that awesome? That’s what I call a real team.”

“A real team?” You almost shout. Usually, as the editor-in-chief of one of the most important sports magazines in the US, you’d try to keep your cool and act professional. But you’ve been handling Richard’s bullshit for the past two months and now you’ve had enough. “I can’t do this anymore. I want you in my office on Monday so we can discuss your leaving.”

This time, Richard doesn’t have an immediate bratty remark for you.

“Was I clear?”

“M-Mrs Roberts, I—”

“My. Office. On Monday. At half past seven.”

“I’m sure we can figure this out and—”

You look at the clock sitting on Nico’s desk and smile, even though you know Richard can’t see. “Oh, would you look at that? It’s seven p.m. which means I’m not on my work hours anymore. So, we should probably just talk on Monday.” You use your best, fake happy voice. “Have a nice weekend, Richard.”

You don’t wait for his answer before hanging up on him and sighing loudly.

“Hi, baby,” you finally say, leaning down to give Nico a brief kiss. “I’m sorry for this.”

“I’m somewhere between proud and scared,” he smiles, getting up and wrapping his arms around your tired body, as you lean closer to his chest and rest your head on it. “Proud because you’re actually standing up for yourself, scared because I have never seen you talk like that.”

You shrug. “I mean, he did make Jake go home later than he’s supposed to, several times, and I’ve met his kids, I just… if it was just me, I wouldn’t be this upset but—”

“You don’t need to justify your actions, schatz. Not to me, not to anyone,” he smiles softly, and you just lean closer to his chest. He smells like home and violets. “And the guy is an asshole.”

You laugh, reluctantly pulling away from him.

“I guess you’re right,” you said. “I need a shower though. This ‘standing up for myself’ thing is tiring and nasty.”

“Better hurry, then,” Nico whispers against your mouth. “I ordered food from your favorite place.”

You moan loudly as you make your way to his bathroom. “Fuck, I’m going to have your kids.”

His laugh is loud enough for you to hear and you smile, closing the door behind you.

𖧷

YOU’RE ALMOST falling asleep on the couch when you feel it.

It’s light and sweet at first, barely noticeable. Nico had been resting his head on your belly, while you played with his hair and tried to keep up with the last episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty.

But you probably snoozed for a few seconds, and Nico saw that as the perfect opportunity for him to bury himself in the middle of your thighs.

“Baby,” you call him, and he hums back, barely paying attention to you. “What are you doing?”

“I miss you.” Was all he said, before going back to kissing your naked thighs.

You just chuckled, looking down at him, and feeling somewhat shy as he inhales your skin, probably smelling the hints of lavender your body wash left behind.

He keeps kissing you, taking his time. It’s barely anything, yet it has you throbbing under your panties, which makes you blush. It’s embarrassing how fast you melt under his touch.

He gets up, sitting on his heels, looking down at you with lustful eyes. “You’re stressed.”

“I am,” you smile.

“I want to eat you out.”

“You do?”

“I do, yeah,” he plays with the hem of your shirt, slowly moving his finger down, all the way to your black panties. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had in a while,” you bite your lips, hiding your grin.

He doesn’t hide his, smiling widely as he quietly drags your underwear down, lifting your hips just enough to remove them from your body.

“You have such a pretty pussy, babe,” he muttered, spreading your legs, until your bare, smooth flesh mercies the open air. “I can never get enough.”

Before you can even start to feel shy about your nakedness, Nico dives in, licking a long stripe up your pussy, not paying attention to your most sensitive part, not just yet— it had you moaning anyway, though.

He attaches his warm mouth to your core, tongue messily gliding over your lips and entrance. His movements are precise and smooth, like he was born to do this.

The tip of his tongue finds your hole, dipping inside you slowly, then, he finally licks your clit, moving his wet muscle from side to side while you trash under his touch, holding onto the couch with both of your hands.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, voice hoarse and silvery. “Dripping, actually. And all of that for me.”

You’re about to answer when he dives into your core again, this time focusing on your clit only. He grabs both of your thighs and pulls you towards him, licking everywhere. The sound of him eating you out filling up the room, louder than the boring show you had on.

The room’s barely illuminated yet you can see him staring at you as he licks, eats and satisfies himself with your taste. He doesn’t even blink, trapped between your legs, sucking your most sensitive part.

“Ngh.”

He stops messing with your clit just to smirk and say: “C’mon, love. I know you can be louder than that.”

And then, he dives into you again, giving you all he can. And his all has you pulling his hair and moaning loudly, even with your left hand covering your mouth.

Your release builds fast, as it always does whenever Nico decides to do whatever he wants with you. The tension in your lower belly comes faster each time you both have sex, and even though you can’t explain why, you’re not bored by it, not at all.

“Nico, I’m gonna come,” you manage to say, rolling your eyes, only to close them afterwards. “F-Fuck.”

You’re rutting against his mouth, not caring that your sweet spot’s feeling overstimulated. It’s like a feral feeling, taking over your body and mind, and your only goal is to come.

You feel lucky, so fucking lucky, to have a man like him to make you see stars, and when you come inside his mouth, it’s without warning or coordination.

You’re seeing white and you’re gasping for breath as he continues to lick you, digging his short nails into your flesh so he can keep you in place— even though you can barely move, your limbs are too weak to do anything.

“N-Nico,” you whisper, gently pushing him away because you’re sure you’re about to disintegrate if he keeps going. And also because you know he’ll be there for hours with no end if you don’t push him away. “Shit.”

He smirks, and you’re sure he’ll never look this hot again. His hair is glued to his face, and his chin is shiny with your come, but so are his lips and the tip of his nose. But what really does it for you it’s the way his chocolate eyes are shining and looking at you like you’re everything.

You grab his shirt and pull him down, kissing his lips right away, tasting yourself on his tongue. It’s nasty and new, but you don’t care; you just want to feel him, be close to him.

“There’s no one else,” you tell him. “It’s just you, and it will always be just you.”

He smiles, his dimples stealing the spotlight because they make you want to live inside his cheek forever. “Hope that’s a promise, baby.”

“Oh, captain,” you hum. “It is.”

𖧷

YOU’RE SITTING on Nico’s lap when you see her.

She enters the bar with her chin up, holding her Gucci purse under her arms and softly clicking her fingers against the phone she’s holding.

She doesn’t immediately look your way, and even though you’re not sure if she knows you and your people— Mia, Ella, Luke, Jack and Nico— had chosen this specific bar to celebrate the Devils winning streak, you can’t help but feel aware of her presence.

Nico brings you back to the present moment, squeezing your waist lightly, just enough to make you look back at him.

“What does Em think of this?” you hear someone, Luke, maybe, ask, and you shrug, trying to hide the fact that you don’t know what they’re talking about.

“Keep my girlfriend out of your useless conversations, please.” Nico says, saving you once again. You give him a brief cheek kiss, taking care so you won’t smudge his cheek with your red lipstick.

“Please, you’re so pussy-whipped it’s sad to watch.” Jack says and Mia rolls her eyes at him.

“As he should.” she grins, winking at you.

“I only asked her if she thinks the last Fast & Furious movie is boring or not,” Luke argues. “I mean, Natalie almost killed me last time I mentioned it.”

“She hates those goddamn movies,” you laugh, remembering how angry she’d get whenever someone tried to make her believe that that whole franchise is good. “You should’ve known better.”

“I guess,” Luke pouts, toying with his beer bottle and Ella smiles at him. “I lowkey miss her, is that weird?”

“It’s not weird to miss your friends, Duke,” Mia fake punches him. “I miss her a lot, too. And Quinn.”

“We should visit them once the season’s over,” Ella suggests and you all agree, making plans for your next trip to Vancouver.

The conversation makes you forget about the fact that Nora is in the same place as you, and your insecurities are set aside so you can enjoy your evening with your friends.

You’re caught up with laughing and dancing with Mia and Luke when Nico reaches for you and tells you he’s going to the bathroom, and you just nod and give him a peck, before following Luke and doing the dumbest dance moves ever, making Mia laugh and curse at both of you.

You end up knocking over Luke’s bottle of glass all over you, and even though it’s hot inside the bar, you know you’ll have to dry your shirt before heading out again, otherwise it’s certain you’ll catch a cold.

“I’ll be right back, guys,” you tell Mia and Luke before looking around and trying to find the bathroom sign. Once you do, it’s a sixteen step walk until you’re standing in front of the door that leads to the bathroom hallway, only to find Nico standing there with—

Nora.

They don’t see you, and Nora’s the first to speak again. “It’s just that… you kind of just vanished after that night at my house, and you did unfollow me on Instagram. Did I do something wrong?”

“Well, Nora, you see: you did do something wrong. You kissed me even though you knew I had a girlfriend. That’s not really cool.”

You can tell by his tone that he’s upset, and the Angel sitting on your right shoulder is telling you that you should trust your boyfriend and leave the two of them alone but the Devil speaks louder and you stay right where you are.

“But…” she’s pouting and you feel the urge to punch her. “I didn’t know you and Emma were serious. If I had known, I’d—”

“You’d what?” he scoffs. “You’re still here, even after knowing that Em and I are serious, and have been for a long time now. You followed me all the way to the bathroom just to ask if I was upset with you for kissing me even though you knew I was dating.”

“Nico, you’re being too serious. Emma doesn’t need to know what we did—”

“She already does,” he crosses his arms in front of chest and leans against the bathroom door. “And even if she didn’t, I know, Nora. If you can sleep at night knowing you kissed a compromised person, that sounds like a you problem. I love my girlfriend and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t bother me anymore.”

Nora’s silent for a few seconds before she remembers Nico’s probably expecting an answer.

“I’m not saying you don’t love her, I’m just saying that I understand if you can’t talk to me because of he—”

“It’s not that I can’t, Nora, I don’t want to,” he scoffs again. “Emma is my girlfriend for a fucking reason. I love her.”

Nora’s face is red, and her hands are shaking slightly. She nods before running out of the hallway like her ass’s on fire, only stopping when she almost runs into you.

You don't do anything besides winking at her, watching as her face becomes even redder and angrier. It’s funny how she stomps her way through the bar and leaves without a single word to anyone else.

When you look back to the hallway, you find Nico staring at you, a beautiful smile decorating his lips.

“Looks like you got yourself wet, baby.” He says, pointing to your shirt.

You smile, following him to the bathroom. “Hell yes I did. But it’s about to get worse.”

[mochiroreo]

There’s a bite to it

Modern!Eddie Munson x Vampire!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, Blood (not too graphic), blood loss, P in V, fingering, squirting, cream pie, soft smut.

Author’s note: (this is fic NOT beta’d 🥹) Well hello there and welcome! I know, I know its been a while. A lot has been happening these days but thank you for staying! Now starts the drop of my halloween specials, sorry it took this long! As always, Minors go awayyy. This is the first time I’m attempting to write this type of tropes 💀 thank you for reading!💖

“Oh fuck off Gareth! What? You think I’m too “scared” for this dare?” Eddie stomped on the cigarette butt, his black boot squeaked at the pressure.

“No, but I’m just saying you can back out. We’re not gonna tease you for it.” Gareth looked at Jeff, silently asking for help to stop Eddie and just back out. “I mean yeah—“ Jeff started, scratching his nape while he thinks how to persuade Eddie to back out. “Look dude, you heard about the rumours. Some did not come back from entering that creepy mansion for the same reasons, a dare. It was just all for fun.”

Eddie scoffed at Jeff’s reasoning. Yeah, he is a ‘bit’ afraid, but his pride really won’t let him back down from a dare, let alone his friends’ dare. What started as a usual night for hellfire ended up with drinks and other games, resulting to Eddie losing continuously in a rock-paper-scissors game.

He sucked at the game so badly that he was practically the one that dug his own grave to protect his ego, asking for another round before the group decided to give him a dare for losing so much, which is to enter an abandoned mansion in Hawkins that is famous for all the kinds of rumours and urban legends surrounding it. From poltergeists to disappearances to murder. Making Eddie’s friends regret that they have mentioned it to him as a dare.

“I’m fucking getting out of that mansion alive. Jesus, what could happen in just one night?”

“Exactly! There is a LOT that could happen!” Gareth reasoned out, frustratedly gripping his hair. Eddie had the audacity to cackle and grab the bag that he packed for his dare, looking at his friends one last time before flicking his middle finger up to them. “You’re overthinking this. I have my phone with me so I’ll just call you or message if something happens y’know.” Turning around quickly to walk towards the eerie mansion, Eddie gulped. His prideful facade falling off when he faced the mansion. He is now feeling the cold autumn air, the crunching of the leaves as he walk towards the gate without looking back his friends.

If Eddie can hide how scared he is earlier, his sweaty palms and goosebumps can’t hide it now. He knew about the rumours and all the possible occult rituals that apparently happened inside the said mansion, he was such a big fan. But now that he’s in a dare he really don’t want to be in, he can’t help but curse the place for being at Hawkins.

He felt his jeans pockets if he brought his phone and power brick with him, making him sigh in relief when he got both. He really cannot afford to leave something, knowing how scared he already is. The old metal gate creaked, the wind blowing a tad bit harsher when he pushed himself in which made his skin pricked with goosebumps. He immediately walked inside, not having a single moment with the broken angel statues near the huge fountain at the garden (he watched too much Doctor who, thats for sure.)

Eddie let out a sigh, before looking around the place. He expected the mansion to be run downed, broken glasses,debris or blood everywhere. Maybe even cigarette butts and empty caps of syringe. But no, the place is immaculate and in pristine condition. The drapes where carefully folded, the sofa looking as if its new. Everything was black though, and he is liking how this mansion is styled.

He looked around before deciding to explore the second floor. He carefully walked upstairs as if someone can hear him, his boots creating a dull thud sound in every step on the carpeted floor. Eddie was met with a long hallway and dozens of doors scattered throughout yet he was intimidated with the one at the end, the biggest one that seems to be calling him. His eyes landed on a series of painting adorning the hall, a portrait of a woman that slowly loses her smile as he kept on walking towards the biggest door. It was as if every portrait was a different woman. A different nose, lips, eyes— as if all the artists that is trying to paint whoever the woman is does not know how to draw.

Eddie grabbed the brass knobs of the massive double doors, opening it slowly. His eyes twinkled when he finds out its a well-kept bedroom. The fact flying over his head, not thinking that someone must be living here for this to be this clean. Sighing, he took his leather jacket off and draped it on the chair, putting his bag down as well. He removed his shoes excitedly before plopping down at the soft mattress. “Holy shit. Why are people afraid of this house, this is such an awesome place to live in.” Eddie took a deep breath before sighing in relief. He yawned, not noticing the pair of red eyes that seemed to be watching him ever since he stepped inside.

“Well, it is indeed an awesome place to live in. I try to keep it clean. Have I done a good job?”

“Oh yeah you’ve done a won—“ if his eyes were closed earlier, now its as wide as saucers as he look around to find where the voice came from, before landing on the chair near the vanity mirror. Eddie gasped, his mind turning into a mush and his heart beating so fast that he knows its trying to jump out of his rib cage. “U-uhm— I just got dared—“ he tried to explain, sitting himself up on your bed. You looked at his nervous expression and find his stuttering adorable which made you laugh loudly. Eddie stopped explaining himself when he heard you, finally taking the time to look at you more closely.

It took him no time to notice that you are the woman in all of those portraits, yet they did not do you justice. You are ethereal, he thinks. Maybe that’s why the artists kept on changing things cause they cannot fully grasp your existence and just how beautiful you are?

You’ve noticed that he had gone quiet, making you tilt your head. Its been a while since you’ve had a human in your house. Have you already taken it too far? You leaned in a tad bit, moving the chair closer towards the bed. “Are you alright? Perhaps I’ve taken it too far?” You asked him, eyes tracing every inch of his face and oh. Oh. He looks downright delectable and delicious. Also adorable with how he is openly ogling your whole body. Dressed in a white dress that hugs your curves in a sinful way, not too thin yet not enough to hide all the things Eddie wanted to see.

You leaned forward, resting your head on your palms. The scent of Eddie wafted throughout the room, your eyes gleaming in delight. He smiles like smoked sandalwood and citrus which was an odd combination but made you more attracted towards him. It has been a while indeed since you had a taste of something that seemed so.. fresh. Eddie noticed the way your eyes raked over him, snapping him out of his desires. “I’m good I’m just trying to explain my situation cause I would really love not to get a lawsuit for breaking in someone’s house— I really thought this was abandoned.” He sat comfortably on your bed, eyes noticing the slightly longer than normal canines when you had given him a toothed smile before looking around your room.

“Well.. that’s what you, humans, say all the time whenever you enter this room and gets caught.” At this time, you have already stood up in front of the corner of the bed where Eddie is. “Said they they are just lost, curious, got dared..” you positioned yourself in between his dangling legs at the edge of the bed, loving how his breath hitched when your body is so close to his crotch, jaw tightening as if he is fighting himself to hold you. “But have you noticed something..” you drawled out the end of your sentence, cocking an eyebrow for him to say his name. “Eddie.. wait what do you mean us humans—?” he whispered. You did not pay any attention to his question, continuing your teasing. “Eddie, what a fitting name for your adorableness. But yes, Eddie, have you noticed something?”

Eddie just continued to stare at you, brown eyes locking in with your red ones, which he just noticed, his face filled with confusion. “If my eyes can’t give it away then- Look at that small vanity mirror, tell me if there is something wrong.” He quickly looked behind you to stare at the said mirror, immediately noticing that you don’t have a reflection. Sirens rang inside his head, yet he cannot move his body to run away from you. He watched enough horror movies to know what type of creature are those that live without a reflection. “V-vampire..?” He muttered, his face slightly paler when you nodded. You used your powers to turn the vanity mirror away, shutting the curtains, making Eddie jolt in shock with how quick the darkness engulfed the room.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden lighting, it wasn’t too dark that he cannot see you, but definitely not bright enough to make him think clearly and think of a plan to escape. Denying inside his head that he is attracted to you. Your cold touch on his cheek made him jump, his hands landing on your hips which made you moan at the warmth. The sound definitely woke Eddie’s cock, and when he tried to remove his hands, you stopped him. “Its okay.. its okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” You whispered softly, one hand cradling his cheek to make you look at him upwards while the other plays with his soft,curly hair. You usually don’t promise this to most of the humans that wanders on your house as they always end up being eaten anyway but to him,its different. “God, it’s been a while since I’ve smelled something as good as you. What a bonus that you are also a cure for sore eyes.” You chuckled in delight while Eddie gulped. Your eyes are definitely redder now, yet all Eddie felt was you putting more pressure to his crotch with your thighs while you move closer.

You duck your head, grabbing his nape to expose his neck for your soft,pink lips to latch on which had taken him aback. “Fuck” he muttered under his breath, hands tightening on your hips which made you inhale his scent deeply while sucking his pale skin harshly. “Please.. will you let me have a taste?” You whispered on his skin, trailing wet kisses all over while Eddie is slowly losing control on himself.

God, what did he walked into? Poltergeists, ghost, and cults, they said. Turns out, a fucking vampire lives in the mansion. He is not sure what scared him more, the fact that a vampire might suck him dry and die or the fact that even though he might get suck dry, he does not mind dying in such a way. Not trusting his voice, he gave you a small moan, craning his neck further. You pushed him onto the bed, red eyes now gleaming in delight. Eddie watched you with curiosity, definitely getting harder on his jeans when he watched your fangs grew longer. You leaned down to his neck once again, straddling him with ease.

Your plush thighs trapped him underneath you, hands holding his arms which made him feel trapped and wanted. “It might hurt a little but you’ll enjoy it, I promise you. Thank you for the meal.” Sucking in a breath, Eddie prepared himself before feeling your fangs prick his skin. He held your waist that you are pretty sure will give you bruises, not that you mind. In such a short time, you were completely smitten with how he smells divine and how he looks like he is meant to be with you. And with the taste of his blood, you weren’t sure how to let him go.

His taste was more than what you have expected, smooth and addicting. You sucked harder, blood filling your mouth. The hunger that was asleep for centuries re-igniting inside of you. No one has tasted this good. No one has made you feel intoxicated this way for ages. You almost lost yourself if not for the way Eddie caresses your hips and thighs after his bruising grip, lips forming into a lazy smile as if he is high. He is indeed high. Never had he expected for it to feel this.. good. If he’s going to die this way, might as well go all out, right?

The thought gave Eddie the confidence to moan loudly when he felt you suck harder again. One of his hand move to your back, tracing gentle circles while the other held your nape. “Yes. Take it, take what you think is yours. Does it taste good? I’m happy to give you more.” His words made you swoon, voice low and husky as he urge you to take more of him. Your hips now rutting on his clothed cock which made his eyes roll at the back of his skull. It’s too much for him, he just wants you to continue to use him. You continued to hump him, eager for a different type of release. Unlatching your mouth from his neck and licking it clean to close the wound. Eddie watched you sigh in bliss. His blood smeared at the side of your lips, which you licked, making sure you’re not wasting a drop of blood.

“Fuck, sweetheart—“ he choked out in pleasure, guiding his hands to your breasts and giving it a tentative squeeze. and giving it a squeeze. You gave him a toothy grin, retracting your fangs. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, only for him to suck with while maintaining eye contact. The action made something snapped inside you, precautions flying out of the room. You slowly unraveled yourself, taking off your dress, your body now bare for Eddie. He looked at you in awe as if time froze before pulling you down for a searing kiss.

The kiss was hot,sticky, and messy from his blood. You cannot help the soft sighs that escaped your mouth when his lips found yours, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip before giving it a soft suck. Your knees buckled, weak with Eddie’s ministrations. He continued to kiss you deeply, playing with your nipples that made you pull away and bury your face on his neck. “Oh sweetheart, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He growled on your ear, before flipping your positions. He was now on top, straddling you as he look down. Taking off his shirt, it was your turn to run your hands on his lithe body. He isn’t bulky but holy fuck was he well defined on all the right places. And by the looks of it, his cock probably won’t disappoint as well.

Your mouth watered at the thought of his cock inside of you, taking you. You do not mind giving him the power over you, as long as he let you taste all of him. Eddie took of his clothes one by one, standing up quickly to remove his pants and boxers before going back to straddling you. Your eyes widened at his size. Not massively long but the girth of him makes you gulp. Your mouth watered but you cannot help but ask him one thing. “Well fuck me but— would that fit?!” The slight crack of your expression made him laugh, lightly stroking his length as he bury his face at the side of your neck to press wet kisses. “Oh it will fit. We will make it fit, don’t we?” His mouth slowly goes down to your breasts, sucking your pebbled nipples in delight. He continues to do so when you felt his hands cupping your bare pussy.

The action made you release a breath cause finally his hand is where you want it to be. The feeling of his warm palms and his cold rings just made you want more, bucking your hips slightly to ask him for more. He moved away to look into your eyes, rubbing your pussy gently and feeling how wet you are. “You’re soaking wet, jesus.” He mumbled, your eyebrows furrowed with just how his touch is making you lose yourself. “Other than it has been a while, you are the first human that made me feel this insatiable hunger again.”

Your statement made Eddie smirk, before inserting his finger deep to your cunt. The intrusion made you gasp loudly, his finger going in and out to slowly loosen you. Eddie felt you try to grind on his fingers, urging him to add one more. And another, his thumb rubbing your clit as three of his fingers slide in and out of you with ease with how wet you are for him.

He felt the rough patch inside of you, aiming and hitting your sweet-spot over and over again. Eddie can feel that your getting closer with how your breath quickens and how you kept on squeezing his fingers. “Ahh, I-I’m close— please Eddie, please.” This prompted him to go faster. You asked him politely, how can he say no? He watched the way your eyebrows scrunch, mouth open with a silent scream as you let go. You saw stars dancing underneath your eyelids, Eddie still thrusting his fingers and rubbing your clit making you extremely sensitive.

“Eddie— Eddie stop—“ you looked on his face that is holding a wide grin while you try to hold his wrist and stop him. “Ah ah, let go sweetheart, come on. You can give me another one, can ya?” Your hips cannot stay still as he continue to abuse your cunt. He quickly took notice of your tears that are bound to fall soon “I’m— I’m—“ stuttering as you try to warn him, a loud moan erupted from your chest as you get hit with your climax harder. Eddie continued only to slowly stop when he felt you squirt. “Well aren’t you a generous house host?” He teased, licking his fingers clean, letting your juices coat his mouth. His comment made you giggle before positioning his length, nudging his tip on your puffy cunt. “Why yes, I am. Though I am pretty sure I can give you more.” You cockily said, pulling him closer.

His lips found yours once again while he slowly pushes inside you. He swallowed your moans, before he moved away to groan. You might be a vampire but fuck, your cunt was so warm and tight for him that it made his eyes roll at the back of his skull. His thickness made your back arch, nails dragging down his back as he slowly build his speed. He watched you with hungry eyes, bare chests pressed while he try not to crush you with his weight. Your connection with him felt like a dream, in all the centuries you have lived, you have forgotten what it feels like to feel this desired, this wanted.

He fits you perfectly. His cock hitting the right places as his thrusts grew faster and harsher. You were a moaning mess underneath him, drool slightly building up at the side of your lips while your tears threaten to fall. Eddie’s fringe is matted to his forehead as he slam himself in and out of you like a wolf in rut. “S-so good. Ah,ah,ah” you mewled over and over, pulling him closer and wrapping your arms and legs on him to be as close to him as possible. His rhythm never stuttered, bringing you pleasure more and more.

Feeling your teeth scrape the side of his neck, he knew you were on the verge of cumming the same as him. Yet he knows you wanted more, needed more. “Do you want another taste? Come on, you can feed on me.” Tears were now flowing down your cheeks as you chant over and over while your fangs grew longer “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you.” You were squeezing him, talking to himself inside his head not to cum yet but when your teeth sank on his skin, his hips stuttered.

The moment his blood hits your tongue and flooded your taste buds, you gave in. Your body convulsed as if you were hit by such a strong wave, while Eddie lets out a loud growl, filling you. Your senses were blank, pleasure taking over as you take and take. He had never felt so high and filled with pleasure. Is he seeing spots now that you kept on sucking his blood while he just cummed? Yes. Is it the best climax that he ever had in his life and was it worth it? Yes. He smiled drunkenly to himself as he feel his strength slipping away, softly combing your hair with his fingers. You felt his breathing slowly get softer before snapping out of the trance from his blood, his whole body crushing you when he passed out.

“Oh fuck—“

Eddie woke up with a headache, feeling lightheaded. The curtains were drawn and the moon shining down through the huge window, illuminating the room alongside the lamps. You quietly sat down beside him, shyly handing him an apple and orange juice box. He took the juices with a lazy smile before bursting into laughter when you covered your face in embarrassment. “I am so sorry.” You mumbled, taking a peek on his reaction. This made him laugh even harder, clutching his stomach. He finally stops and removed your hands covering your face. “Hey, its okay, you literally took my breath away. You should be proud of that.” He teased, making you scoff at him which made him chuckle.

“You know.. its been centuries since I felt this type of connection towards someone.. Will you visit me again?” Holding his hand tenderly, you press it close to your chest while looking at him with pleading eyes and a pout. Eddie could not say no with how adorable you look at him compared to when you just met him. He was planning to tease you but the swelling of his heart made him do otherwise. “Of course! As long as you let me paint you AND hang it on your hall of fame.” “Hall of fame?” You asked him while chuckling, only to be met with a firm nod. “Fine fine.” you took his hand that was on your chest and kissed his palm with tender eyes that were looking at him with affection, the action making him blush. And making his cock hard.

“Sweetheart, you really need to stop making me horny at this point. I almost died the last time.” He joked, both of you laughing at his silliness.

If someone told Eddie that he would meet and sleep with a vampire, he would have probably laughed and punch the person who is clearly out of his mind. But now, doing both, he does not mind doing it again. Meeting a vampire AND having the best sex of his life? Deal.

And for some reason, as you watch Eddie drink both of the juices you gave him, you cannot help but stare intently at his face. Everything seemed to be so oddly familiar that your heart feels like you know him for the longest time which made your eyes slightly water.

Because, maybe you do.

After all, he looks exactly like the only lover that you had and loved two-centuries ago.

[rainbow-nerdss]

I want to see the 118s perspective of the drunken confessions from black out so bad 😭

HELLO ANON I LOVE YOU FOR THIS. SO MUCH LOVE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA. This has been sitting here in my inbox for a while because I wanted to do it justice, but I had SO MUCH FUN working on this! I present: Chimney's POV of that whole situation from my fic Blackout (3k, E) I may have gotten caught up in my Madney/Dad!Chimney feels for a while there, but who can blame me?

Chimney has always loved having Halloween off work, glad to avoid the crazies, but it's even better now he's a dad, especially now Jee's old enough to have fun with her costumes, and to understand what Trick-or-treating is all about.

He gets to dress up with her, a whole-family pirate ensemble, to pose while Buck snaps way more pictures than necessary of the three of them, and to take her door-to-door around the neighborhood. 

And, after getting Jee-Yun in bed, he heads to Hen's for the grown-up party. 

Buck takes a detour on the way, to pick up Eddie and see Christopher before his first teenage Halloween party. Those are days Chimney isn't looking forward to—when Jee is old enough to prefer spending time with her friends than her parents, when she won't climb on his back and pose for a dozen pictures as they wear matching costumes.

He hopes she never grows out of this.

When Eddie and Buck arrive at the bar together, they're walking in step with each other, Eddie mid-laugh at something Buck has said. Eddie heads straight for the bar, while Buck stands for a moment, watching him before making his way to the booth where Chimney is sitting with Hen, Bobby and Ravi.

Everyone's in a good mood today, it seems, as they order rounds of drinks: beer and whiskey and cocktails. Hen is pacing herself more, but Chimney is pleasantly buzzed, verging on drunk. He's nothing compared to Buck and Eddie, though. They're both pink-cheeked and laughing, pressed together in the booth, practically in each other’s laps.

Bobby makes his excuses just after eleven, telling them all to have a good night, and to stay safe.

“Aww, c’mon Cap! Stay a while longer!” Buck protests, leaning over Eddie to reach for Bobby. Chimney catches the way Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he looks anywhere but at the denim-clad Buck in his lap.

Bobby shoots a look at Hen, raising his eyebrow. She nods.

So, great, Chim isn’t the only one seeing this.

“Sorry, Buck. Athena’s waiting up for me. I’ll see you at work, okay?”

Buck pouts and reaches for the dregs of his last drink, barely shifting out of Eddie’s lap.

“Twenty bucks says it happens tonight,” Chim whispers, sliding back into the booth next to Hen.

“Those idiots? They’ve been like this for weeks now!” Ravi argues. “I’ll take those odds.”

Hen shakes her head. “They’ve been like this for years. Stop wasting your—” but Hen cuts herself off as Eddie takes out his phone, checks a message and shows it to Buck, whose expression turns ridiculously soft as he drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“Huh,” Hen says, narrowing her eyes at them. “Honestly, you might have a point, Chim. This isn’t their usual dance. Here’s how it’s gonna go—”

Chim orders a round of shots while Hen draws up the bet in her notes app. 

“This is the last drink we buy for them,” Hen insists. “Otherwise, it gets weird, morally speaking.”

“Agreed,” Chim and Ravi both chime in, and they all shake on it, then down their shots. Buck and Eddie don’t even break eye contact as they drink the shots, but a moment later Eddie is scrambling out of the booth, pulling Buck with him.

“I love this song!” he yells.

And Buck follows him, eyes wide in a way that Chimney wishes wasn’t the exact same expression Maddie gets sometimes, right before they fall into bed together.

He’s going to have to drink a lot to forget that sight, but at least he’s definitely gonna win that bet.

He loses them for a while, getting another drink, showing Ravi the trick-or-treating photos again: “Look at this one!” he coos, showing yet another picture of Jee. “She was looking for the treasure!” 

He only snaps back to the moment when Hen smacks him on the arm, and he looks up, following her eyes to where Buck and Eddie are dancing. The song’s different, but they’re closer than before—Eddie’s hand is on Buck’s chest, Buck’s on Eddie’s waist, and that is probably the most intense eye contact Chimney’s ever seen—and he’s seen Ravi and Lucy attempt to communicate telepathically during a long shift with very few calls. 

“It’s happening,” he whispers. “Hen, come dance with me!”

He takes her arm, and pulls her within earshot of Buck and Eddie—trying and failing to be subtle, but it doesn’t make any difference for all the attention they’re paying to anything but each other. 

“—really pretty,” Buck says, expression dazed.

Eddie blinks at him. “Pretty?” he asks. Buck nods, touching the corner of Eddie’s eye, letting his hand rest there.

Eddie swallows, and Chim squeezes Hen’s arm as Eddie leans in, then muffles a curse as he pauses. He glances over and sees Ravi preening at the edge of the dance floor, but then Buck is pulling Eddie in, and yes, yes there it is!

“They’re kissing!” Chim cheers as quietly as he can, practically jumping for joy while Hen tries to get him to stop. Chim shakes her off, then holds his hand up in the shape of an L, directing it at Ravi, who rolls his eyes.

“I love you,” Chim hears Eddie say, and he whips his head back around to them. 

“You—Eddie. Really?” 

“Of course I do, Buck. God, of course I do.”

Buck pulls Eddie close, burying his face in his neck. The smile on his face is familiar to Chimney: it’s the same one he knows he wears each and every time he looks at Maddie. 

“I love you too,” Buck says. “So much. I…you know, you and Christopher, I think I’d be happy if I did nothing but sit in your house and make pancakes for you both for the rest of forever.”

“Buck, oh my god,” Eddie chuckles, while Chimney pretends to gag at the sincerity. “You know, having nothing but pancakes would probably not be healthy,” Eddie points out, but Chimney can hear the fondness, the love in his voice.

“Don’t care. Not if it makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.”

“Good. C’mere,” Buck says, and it’s all the warning they give before Eddie goes in for another kiss, and this is not the type of kiss Chim wants to see his future brother-in-law, the uncle to his beautiful daughter, engage in, but there’s really no avoiding how much he just goes for it. 

“Fuck.” 

Chimney hears Eddie’s low growl before he’s, thankfully, pulled away by Hen, back to where Ravi is waiting, trying to maintain a scowl over the smile that’s clearly fighting to break free on his face.

“Alright, well, pay up!” Chimney announces, resolutely not looking up to where Buck and Eddie are practically mauling each other on the dance floor—more than five years of sexual tension all trying to resolve itself at once.

He holds out his hand while Ravi grumbles. “Who even carries cash anymore? Can I just venmo you?” 

Chimney rolls his eyes. “Sure, fine, whatever. But you will be held accountable for this, got it?”

There’s a crash to his right, and he turns to see Buck, grinning, out of breath and red in the face. “We’re uh, we’re gonna head out.”

Eddie pops up behind him, mouth latching on to the side of Buck’s neck from behind, eyes hazy in a way that Chim tells himself is just from the alcohol but he knows is probably something beyond that. 

“Get home safe, boys!” Hen tells them. They back off, making their way to the door before Chimney calls after them.

“And be safe in the other way, too!” he yells, earning him a chiding slap on the arm from Hen. He grins. “I think our loser ought to buy the next round of drinks, don’t you, Hen?”

He sticks his tongue out at Ravi, who rolls his eyes, grumbles, but still gets up to order another round.

Chimney doesn’t stay too much longer after that. He orders an uber for himself, and Hen and Ravi both follow him out. He’s the first one dropped off, and he stands on the curb outside his house for a moment, smiling at the little garden, the front door with the lopsided pumpkin he’d carded with Jee, the little bats and spider decorations they’d hung together. 

There’s a light on in their bedroom, which means Maddie’s still awake—probably reading or watching a show in bed. Chimney does a little skip on his way up the porch steps. 

He has so much to tell her.

[elliespeach]

fantasizing about protective festival!ellie

warnings: 18+ explicit sexual descriptions, drug use, alcohol use, very Very brief choking kink, implied homophobia, mild possession, pet names

an: an offering until i finish part 2 of you belong to me i thought of this at work and knew she would be a festival girlie okokenjoy

she def tried to convince u to let her buy an airtag and stick it in ur outfit just in case she lost you in the crowd “you could just call me els” “what if ur phone dies” she pouted

she wore a simple button up that was unbuttoned with a sports bra underneath, her abs showing which made ur toes curl and loose basketball shorts. meanwhile u had to spend hours trying to find what to wear, always earning a “everything looks so good on you baby” as ellie watched u change for the 8th time

“absolutely not” she protested one of the more scandalous outfits u tried on, typically she wouldn’t care and actually liked ur skin showing to be able to flaunt you around “you know how these people are there, i don’t need you being ogled all night”

no bc watching her dance at the actual festival was intoxicating, grinding up behind you going with the beat of the music, grabbing ur ass and feeling u up in a way that felt hungry

also note she had a blunt resting in her mouth while she danced on u AHH

im also picturing her in a backwards worn out ball cap do with that what u will,, ok carrying on

u were only crossed, as when u suggested trying something a bit harder ellie def had something to say "idk babe u dont even take well to being too high sometimes" "fine but were doing shots!"

so u both were wasted, she guided ur hips with her hands to spin you around to face her the strobe lights started going crazy for the drop of the song that was playing

ellie hit the blunt while u watched not even questioning it bc she was so fucking fine while doing

she inhaled slightly and leaned in, grabbed ur neck face and blew the smoke into your mouth for u after u exhaled she wrapped her free arm around ur waist pulling u closer in

this time she kissed u and kissed u hard, still grinding to the music while doing so ofc

her hand wandering around ur back down to ur ass and when the kiss ended u continued dancing and ellie took a quick glance around

she saw a guy poking at his friend then pointing to u and her and immediately protective mode was activated

"cmon, i gotta go to the bathroom" grabbing ur hand and not even giving u the chance to respond "ellieeeeeeeee"

u guys were towards the back because "i dont wanna lose u in the crowd plus i think i would suffocate"

"els we just went to the bathroom" "i saw some guys staring at us, i didn't like the looks of it" she was very occasionally glancing in the direction where u guys came from, obviously worried

"lets go finish this and then go back" she suggested and brought u to the back of one of the food stands,, holding ur hand the entire time of course kinda too tight like she was white knuckling that shit

u guys passed it back and forth a few times before the redness of your perfect eyes, being crossed, and full on craving u overwhelmed her

"els!" u giggled as she sucked on ur exposed neck, marking every single square inch she possibly could before moving to ur jaw

ellie being ellie she lightly bit ur earlobe sending shockwaves thru u n feeling the surge of confidence ((and bc shes a cocky shit)) she goes "let those try guys come near you, you're mine"

immediate butterflies. immediate pulsing in ur pussy like oh my GOD and being so horrendously down bad u say "i'm yours"

instinctively u stretched ur arms over her shoulders and as soon as u started to move ur hands thru her hair in pleasure she threw the remaining blunt to the ground and literally picked u up

like hoisted u up so that ur legs were around her waist, one of her hands placed itself on ur back the other firmly on ur ass

this was all mid kiss btw

she spun around and crashed ur back into the back of the food stand and bc shes so strong she could hold you there basically by holding herself so close to you

she reached a hand down feeling ur pussy thru the very light shorts u had on "no underwear, huh baby?" all u could do was shake ur head the feeling of her touching u was overwhelming to say the least "and already so wet, tsk tsk"

u blushed but thank god it was dark bc she wouldve teased u about it and u wanted so badly for her to just kiss u again u leaned in slightly as if asking permission

"and so needy" "please, els" "what was that?" she paused her fingers on ur core and u whined "words princess, i need words"

sigh, anyway

leaving the festival she knew u were drained and let u piggy back most of the way to the car, she drove back home letting u sleep peacefully in the passenger seat

when u guys got back home she was fully prepared to carry u in but u woke up

but u were way to tired to get ready for bed so she undressed u, showered u, and put u in one of her tee shirts and ultimately put u to bed only to be interrupted by her coming to cuddle only a short time later

[thatonelesbianfander]

As the World Caves In (Demus Angst)

Fandom// Sanders Sides

TW// Major Character Death, Angst w/ sad ending, suicide mention, violence mention, crying, sirens, explosion

Word count// 675

Description// It’s the end of the world. The world leaders have all announced that they would be nuking the world and taking off with a bunch of the rich people to start fresh on a new planet. During this time, Remus and Janus spend their final moments together as the world caves in.

Characters// Remus Sanders, Janus Sanders

Pairings// Demus/Dukeceit

AUs// Human AU/ End of the World AU

Author’s note// This is kind of a vent one-shot to get my mind off of a dream I had. It is also based off the song, As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world was in chaos. The sounds of car alarms, glass shattering, and screams mixed together as people ran rampant through the streets. The government had announced that all countries came to an unanimous agreement that they were going to nuke the entire world while any rich people and world leaders fled to a new planet. This led to the general public freaking out, causing all hell to break lose. Remus looked out at the chaos outside their window, a solemn expression on their face.

”Mi amor, back away from the window please. There’s too many crazy people out there, I don’t want you getting hurt,” Remus’s spouse, Janus, said. Remus sighed.

”What’s the point? The world’s going to be ending soon… Roman and his partner committed a double suicide when everyone got the message… I’m never going to be able to finish my big project that I’ve been working so hard on… There’s nothing going for me anymore,” Remus said, not looking at Janus. Janus sighed, walking over to its spouse and hugging them.

”I know… But I’d rather spend all the time we have together in our last moments, than have it cut even shorter… Now, come on, let’s spend our time together wisely,” Janus said. Remus smiled a little. The two stood up, Remus grabbing Janus’s hand as the two walked to the living room. The two sat on the couch, Janus turning on the TV and switching to the news. Remus grabbed out a few pens, grabbing one of Janus’s hands. They took off Janus’s gloves and started to doodle on Janus’s hand. They drew many different small tattoo designs as Janus smiled at them, admiring their spouse.

”I love you so much, Remus,” Janus said.

”I love you too, Janus,” Remus said, smiling softly at Janus. The two kissed each other, staying in each other’s embrace for a while before pulling away. Remus continued to doodle on Janus’s hand as the news played in the background. Janus watched the news as the news reporter was attacked on camera by a group of drunk people, the camera soon being ditched on the ground. Janus turned off the TV, sighing as they leaned back on the couch a little.

”Do you think there’s an afterlife for us?” Remus asked as they drew.

”What?” Janus replied, turning its attention to Remus.

”Like, do you think when this is all over, there will be a second life for us where we can be happy and not have to worry about anything?” Remus repeated, looking up at Janus.

”I… I don’t know, Remus… I never really thought about the afterlife… I never even thought this would be happening… But just know… If there is an afterlife, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you’re a part of mine,” Janus responded. Remus smiled softly at Janus, pressing a light kiss to its cheek before capping their pen. Janus reached over for its phone, connecting it to their bluetooth speaker and putting on their slow dancing playlist. Janus stood up, extending their hand out to Remus.

”May I have this last dance, mi amor?” Janus asked. Remus smiled, nodding and grabbing Janus’s hand. Janus pulled Remus up off of the couch and held onto their waist as Remus put their hands on its shoulder. The two started to slow dance as the music played in the background. The two finished slow dancing as the song ended, staying in each other’s arms. They soon heard sirens blaring, knowing that the nuke for their part of the country was just launched. The two looked at each other as tears streamed down their faces.

”Good night, mi amor,” Janus said softly, placing a hand on Remus’s cheek.

”Good night, darling,” Remus responded. The two shared one last kiss before pulling away and collapsing on the ground, holding each other tightly as the world faded to white.

[wallspikes]

Chapter 4

hiiii everyone happy APRIL FOOLS! but this isn't a joke... its a whole new chapter... 3k words of my guys. still no name for this -- worlds worst title creator here. i might call it on the wrong foot BUT idunno. i cant post this to ao3 until i get a title </3. ANYWAY no warnings for this i don't thinkkkk... HAVE FUN! if you have any title ideas tell me in the notes.. please...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Gio, no doubt sitting in the ruins of a sand dune beyond the lengths of repair, and more than likely covered in a plethora of various bug bites, felt that he was building more bridges than he had burned in the past day. The little man hadn’t sprinted off towards the closest patch of grass the minute he’d sat down to make himself comfortable — though, they still looked ready to jump away at the first sign of danger. They warily planted their feet and chewed on oversized oats just a few feet away from his outstretched calf. Gio counted that as a win, in his book.

The time on his phone was a little after twelve-thirty. He finished off the last of the granola bar, tucking the wrapper into his back pocket as he stared at the little man in a halfhearted contest that he was sure to lose. The expression on their face was uncertain, their eyebrows upturned in worried arches, their cheeks a blotchy red; Gio felt bad for making them stand there. “You can leave if you want,” he shrugged, “I’m not trying to keep you here… but, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate this, of course!” 

Gio leaned into his palms and fixed them with a thankful grin, “I felt like I was going insane last night, thinking about whether you were real or not. Like, everything felt real, but it was so unreal that I didn’t know if I was imagining it somehow.” His smile turned toothy, “So, thanks for talking to me— or, uh… standing with me. It's nice to not feel crazy.”

The little man shifted in their spot, awkwardly kicking sand to cover their feet and shaking it off again. It almost seemed like they were going to speak, but the words never came. Instead, they ran their hand through their beard, fingers catching on sticky knots matted by honey from the granola bar. 

When he still failed to coax a word from the little man, Gio listlessly shrugged. He watched them tug at their beard, wincing slightly each time their neck jerked from a particularly stubborn clump until the secondhand pain became too much to bear and he realized he had the means to help. “Do you want some water?“ He asked, leaning over to pull a bottle from his backpack, “It might help get rid of the honey before you tear out all your hair first.”

The little man quailed as Gio reached behind himself, the movement far too sudden. Gio turned back to see the man had leaped a few steps away from his calf, the granola bar clutched tightly to their chest as they eyed the nearby brambles of bamboo. Their expression had quickly changed to something more frantic, a content pinkness that had grown on their cheeks from the chance at a good meal draining to frightened paleness while their already-upturned eyebrows nearly met with their hairline. “Woah, sorry,” Gio whispered, and held his hands up in surrender, grasping his water bottle in a fist, “I won’t move so fast anymore. Sorry,” he apologized again, slowly pouring a capful of water and placing it where the man once stood, “I wasn’t really thinking.” 

It took a few moments of bated breath, but eventually, the little man found the courage to reach forward, pull the cap back towards themself, and gingerly pour some water through their beard, making sure to catch a few drops in their mouth in the process as well. Gio watched, satisfied, but wished still that he could get a closer look at his little midnight guest. He slowly pulled his legs into himself, making sure the man was watching him warily before hunching over and digging his elbows into the sand as if studying a particularly interesting insect.

The little man shrunk under his stare, worrying the granola bar between their hands as Gio propped his head in his palm. As they found themselves locked in a one-sided staring contest, Gio couldn’t help himself from absorbing each little detail, from the way the man’s hair bristled as he looked over them to the worried curve of their brows that hadn’t seemed to relax. Their hair was thick and full, and out from it stuck two large, round ears that twitched back at every move Gio made, no matter how slow. “I hope you don’t mind me being here so much,” he mumbled, “I can’t really tell…”

Again, there was no response — it wasn’t like he really expected one from the man, though there was a faraway part of himself that held out hope for a simple nod, or even more daringly, a word, even if it never came. A wide-eyed stare and the occasional nod of the head proved to be his only consistent partner in conversation. Gio studied them a few moments longer while he hovered overhead, watching their Adam’s apple bob and their feet shuffle in place as their fingers bore holes in the oats of the granola bar, held tightly in a white-knuckled grip. Fascinated as he was by the man’s features, Gio was beginning to worry all this studying might kill them. He sat back on his heels, reached to check for the time, and felt the weight of his eyelids double the second the number ticked on screen. 

Gio yawned, exhaustion beginning to catch up with him as the night continued in its standing lull. He turned his head up to the night sky, past the tall bushes and the bamboo to stare at the stars, and sighed. “I should probably go home.” More of a statement than a suggestion, he reached behind himself for his backpack. “Are you headed home soon?”

The redhead straightened up a bit at being addressed, and responded with a quick nod. They took a few steps towards the bushes. 

“Cool.” Gio craned his neck over the bushes, then through their lower brambles. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for — a small, dollhouse-like structure beneath the leaves, or a glimmer of light? — but he saw nothing. He tugged on his backpack. “Do you want a walk back?” He tried.

They looked uncomfortable with the suggestion, slightly curling in on themself while they bared a set of awkwardly grimacing yellowing teeth. They shook their head for good measure, though Gio had already gotten the message. Understanding, but disappointed, he nodded. “Well, what if we meet up again sometime…?” Gio held out hope for another shot.

No harsh reaction immediately followed the inquiry, which Gio took for a good sign, though the long pauses of blank stares were equally just as unnerving. He held his breath while he waited for an answer, watching the little man thoughtfully square their jaw as their eyes quickly snapped to meet his, like they were searching for the source of an ulterior motive there. For some reason, Gio felt himself getting nervous — was he hiding something? He didn’t think so. Regardless, he did his best not to show it. 

When the little man found nothing in his eyes, they subtly let their jaw relax and rumbled an exhausted growl of relief. Their expression betrayed the sound, their brow still pulled tightly to their nose, upturned with worry — Gio had half a mind to ask if they always looked like that, though he was beginning to become more unsure if the question would be answered with a ‘no.’ But, even so, as they hesitantly shrugged — a response that could realistically be a polite decline, had the little man meant it that way — Gio was ecstatic. “That’s great!” He exclaimed, the cold nervousness that had seized him just moments before making way for a giddy feeling of enthusiasm. “What’s best for you? Should I come here, or do you want to start coming to me…?”

Shellshocked, but too reserved to correct Gio if their attention had been to deny, they slowly pointed at him. The man seemed fairly settled in his decision, though Gio was still a bit unsure of the agreement. “You want to come to me?” The little man nodded. “Okay, yeah! That works fine.”

He knelt on the boardwalk and leaned over the lip until he spotted the little red-headed man slightly tucked away into the foliage. “I live on Pacific, if that means anything,” he grinned, pointing through the trees and bushes, “It’s two walks over, just skip the first one — the gray house with the deck on the left is mine. I’m there pretty often, if you need anything. Or if you just want to say hi…?”

The little man glanced in the direction he was pointing, as if to politely consider the offer before giving their answer — then nodded. Gio, hovering upside down over the edge of the boardwalk, gave an excited thumbs up, “Great! My family’s fine, so if you see them, don’t get too concerned. But, uh, I’ll try to find time out there at night for myself, so you can talk to just me, if you want.”

The man didn’t respond this time, their expression only tightening a bit — an expression Gio couldn’t quite get the read on he would have liked. He left the conversation at that. “I hope you… feel better. Sorry, again, about everything.” A pause. “Yeah,” he added, “I’ll see you later… Have a good night, man.”

Gio stood, dusted off his knees and knocked the sand from his shoes, gave the tattered net a grim once-over, and had half a mind to break the thing over his knee — but, ultimately, decided against it after remembering the last time he was whacked from the recoil of a fishing pole. 

As he walked home, suddenly more aware of each footfall with the knowledge of the man who lived beneath the boardwalk, Gio let his mind wander to his family — how would they react to seeing a man a fraction of their size? Living, breathing, thinking? Would they take it well?

Should he even tell them…?

Gio let the thought ruminate. There was no guarantee they’d even see the little guy if he never told them about them. If the stranger showed up at their doorstep looking for a conversation, Gio was certain they’d hide from unknown family members, whether they knew about them or not — though, they’d probably appreciate it to hide without peering eyes… Gio shrugged to himself. He wouldn’t tell his family, to save everyone the hassle.

Plus, he wasn’t sure he had taken the news so well himself.

Sure, stumbling across the little guy in the gully left him fascinated and even more curious by the bizarre discovery, but he thought back to the feeling of the man in his palm… they couldn’t have weighed more than a few ounces — not even a pound — and when they stood before him for their silent conversation, Gio couldn’t help but notice how pale and thin their body was. 

Gio slowed his pace as he thought. Was the stranger hungry? Sick? He wished they had taken more food, if that was the case. He could spare it easily, though, with the way the little guy struggled to carry their cargo after the hopefully generous-enough offering, the issue seemed not to come in the offering, but in receiving. There was no way they could have comfortably brought more food home. Maybe he could bring some more interesting things next time he planned to look for the stranger again. Or, he could wrap a few provisions in some napkins and leave them on the little man’s doorstep, once he knew where it was. He just hoped the man was eating comfortably.

The idea that they weren’t bothered him. He’d never seen a person like that before, but the fact that there was one meant that there had to be more — were they all so thin? Hanging so closely to the threat of starvation that their skin pales and pulls tight to the bone? He hoped not. He hoped his little stranger was just an outlier. 

Gio realized, as he found himself a few paces from his doorstep, that he hadn’t been watching his feet while he was lost in thought about the nutrition of the little man. In a heart-wrenching panic, he glanced back at the boardwalk, dreading to find any unfortunate soul who’d wandered into his path, but thankfully found nothing in the dim reflection of moonlight off the wooden slats. He sighed, and resigned himself to his screen-paneled front door — where he made sure not to let it slam behind him, or let the hinges squeak too loudly.

As his phone’s clock turned past one-thirty in the morning, he turned its flashlight to the floor, kicked off his sneakers, and softly found his way up the stairs, around the bend of the hallway and—

“Hey.”

Gio jumped, nearly dropping his phone, but catching it before it could make a parent-waking clatter. Shining his flashlight down the hallway, Nicolette poked her head from her open bedroom door. “Nico!” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at her through the darkness, “What?! Why are you even awake?!”

“It’s not that late. Plus, I heard you sneak out at eleven-thirty and wanted to know where you headed off to without inviting me.” Nicolette leaned against her doorway, “Were you hanging out with Monty again?”

Gio shrugged — it seemed as good a coverup as any, “Yeah. They wanted to sit over by the bay.”

“Why’d you have a net?”

Gio’s flashlight slightly faltered. He could feel this conversation twist itself into an interrogation as the moments passed and the questions became more detailed. It was rare that a Clark sibling conversation could last more than a few minutes without turning into some kind of debate, and it seemed Gio couldn’t save this one’s meager life. “How did you know I had a net?”

Nicolette gestured into her room with a shrug of her shoulders, “You’re not the only one with a window.”

He grit his teeth, “We were catching crabs.”

“What’re you?” Nicolette scoffed, “Seven?”

Gio turned back down the hallway to his own bedroom door and slid his bag inside before he whispered again, his voice exasperated, “Whatever! If you wanna keep talking, come over here. We’re gonna wake up mom and dad.”

His sister huffed, but pushed herself off her doorway nonetheless. She made herself comfortable on the foot of her brother’s bed and leaned her back against the neighboring wall as Gio closed the door behind them — making sure to give the hallway a quick, cursory glance, just in case.

Gio flicked on a lamp and shook some of the long-clinging sand from the legs of his pants — Nicolette fixed him with a studious gaze. He paused. “What?”

She narrowed her eyes, “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on with me,” Gio lied.

Nicolette ignored him. She pointed to the band-aid on his hand, “First, you come home with your hand mauled. Then, you wander off at night with a net, and won’t tell me where you went. What are you really trying to catch?”

“I told you already,” Gio shrugged, turning to rummage through his dresser for a set of pajamas, “it was a fly. And I was catching crabs with Monty.”

“Yeah, you know that’s not true,” Nicolette called his bluff, a triumphant smirk in her voice, “Plus, I can see your face getting red from here.”

She was right. Gio could feel his face getting warm, too. That always happened when he lied or started to get nervous. Usually, he’d find the chance to hide the pinkness of his cheeks before it got too obvious — his most common solution was to run away — but with his sister sitting so firmly on his only hope for safe haven, he’d have to resign himself to embarrassment. “Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “That’s not true.”

Nicolette perked up. “Okay… then tell me what is!”

Gio crossed his arms. He loved his sister, but he wasn’t going to let her strongarm him into giving up all his secrets so easily this time. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her. “Well, y’know, maybe I don’t want to tell you,” he echoed his own thoughts, “Why do you always need to know everything?”

She thunked her head against the wall, “It can’t be that serious.”

He shrugged, doing his best to keep his cheeks from turning red. He was lying in every way — not only verbally, to his sister, but to himself. It was that serious. “I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

“Ugh! Gio!” she exclaimed, her voice still a whisper, “Just tell me!”

He wanted to tell her badly. Gio took a deep breath, and he held it for a moment, trying to keep himself from spilling the entire story of the stranger right then and there — but, as he opened his mouth to exhale, the dam broke. “It’s a… little man?!” Gio could have shouted with all the pent-up bewilderment of the nights before, if not for his parents’ room just a few doors down, “Like, really little. I saw them and they bit me and then I just couldn’t… stop thinking about it! I think they live under the boardwalk.”

The room was silent. Nicolette fixed him with an incredulous stare, her eyes tinged with a softness of worry after her brother’s seemingly nonsensical story. “A little man…?”

“A little man.”

“Okay…” she started slowly, then cocked her head, “You're sure you’re not sick?”

Gio wiped a hand down his face with a tired groan as his cheeks turned even redder for a different, embarrassed reason. “Whatever,” he mumbled, and strictly pointed at the door, “Get out so I can go to sleep. If you want to actually listen, find me in the morning.”

Nicolette rolled onto her feet, resigning to let whatever tall-tale Gio was telling settle for the night. “Fine, fine.” She shrugged and pulled the door open, stepping into the hallway — but not without turning in a sharp about-face to leave her brother with a final threat, “Expect to hear from me tomorrow.”

He closed the door behind her, an unamused expression atop his still-rosy cheeks. With the quiet click of the door handle closing, he flopped heavily onto his mattress. For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling, an image of the little man forming in his memory to play back the motions of the night. He wanted to laugh. Sharing a granola bar with a stranger past midnight is a novelty story to begin with, but for that stranger to be a fraction of Gio’s own height was taking the story to an even further, funnier degree. 

He could feel his smile crack. It was funny. Gio quietly laughed to himself as he changed into his pajamas and began his nightly routine — silently down the hall, so as to not alert his parents, or possibly his sister again, who uncharacteristically kept her door open a crack as if to listen for any suspicious, brotherly noises. He thought of the little man in their home, wherever that may be, following a routine just the same as Gio’s as they prepared for bed. He hoped they enjoyed the peanut. And he hoped the chunk of granola bar would hold them over for a while, since it looked like a Thanksgiving turkey in their arms. 

He kicked up his bedsheets and slid beneath them, finally placing his glasses on the bedside table for the night with an exhausted sigh. Tomorrow, he’d have to find time in the night when he could convince his family to give him some space as he sat on the deck.

That was, if the little stranger even came to visit.

[nothingunrealistic]

review roundup: billions 7x05 “the gulag archipelago”

at long last! another episode of The Taylor Mason Show! i thought we might never see it again! what did reviewers think?

New York Times: ‘Billions’ Season 7, Episode 5 Recap: A Plan Starts to Form

Let’s do a little narrative reverse engineering, shall we?

first sentence, and first paragraph, of the recap. absolutely yes. i am so ready to go on this journey with you.

Imagine, if you will, that you are a both a trader and a traitor — a high-powered executive at a major investment fund, looking to fatally undermine your own boss in order to stop him from becoming the president of the United States. Your Plan A, recruiting your even more dangerous old boss to stop him, has failed. You’re tired of waiting around for your performance-coach colleague, the ringleader of your band of mutineers, to generate a Plan B. It becomes clear that coming up with Plan C is up to you. So you generate some short-term, medium-term and long-term goals for this plan. In the short term, you need something that will cost your hated boss enough money to rattle his cage. In the medium term, you’d like to generate doubt and dissension among his key employees, as well as elsewhere on the Street. In the long term, you want to increase the power available to a member of your own inner circle to make mischief — enough power, you hope, to engineer the fatal mistake that will take your boss down for good. It isn’t revealed until the closing moments of this week’s episode of “Billions,” but this is precisely the action driving most of this week’s financial activity on the Prince Cap side of the story.

god what an excellent sequence of paragraphs.

It all looks innocent enough: Pivoting off a birthday balloon-inspired brainstorm by Dollar Bill, Taylor uncovers the opportunity to invest big in a helium processing start-up. The price of admission, however, exceeds that which Taylor and Philip are authorized to spend in the absence of their target — ahem, boss — Mike Prince, and his lieutenant, Scooter.

hmm quick clarification / correction: the absence of taylor’s target. philip was almost certainly not in on this scheme. (it’s possible that’s what sean meant, but the way that sentence is constructed, “taylor and philip” is the more natural antecedent of “their.”)

Indeed, the episode’s funniest moment comes when Scooter and Prince stroll happily out of that church, grab their phones and watch as dozens of notifications fill their home screens.

maybe not the funniest, but it’s up there. lots of contenders.

Mike’s response to all this strikes me as the worst one possible. He admits that the structure he put in place isn’t tenable while he is out running for office, then grants Wags — a member of the conspiracy against him — the same sign-off power previously reserved for himself and Scooter. Beyond that, though, he refuses to accept any responsibility whatsoever, telling his crestfallen employees that if he had been in their shoes, he would have found a workaround — so why didn’t they? He even condescendingly tells them to treat this as a chance to learn from what it feels like to lose, as if he weren’t a loser right along with them, as if he weren’t the reason they lost.

hey, it wouldn’t be prince if he didn’t respond as condescendingly as possible with no fucks given about how it might embitter people against him!

Even though Wags and Wendy were kept out of the loop, they figured out what was going on — again, Taylor anticipated this — and kept quiet, allowing the plan to come to fruition.

wendy figured it out; i don’t think wags knew what was going on before she pointed out that it was a scheme against prince.

In the past, Chuck has showed little compunction when it comes to messing with Ira’s life when there’s some greater good to be achieved. Why change now? “Because you’re my friend,” Chuck says, “and that’s my big picture now.” The two men then eat sweet potato pie together — a grace note, I hope, for their entire relationship, as “Billions” begins tying off its plot threads one by one.

it would be nice if that’s the note their relationship leaves off on ultimately. i don’t know that we’ll be so lucky, but it would be nice!

I don’t know if it was the actor Comfort Clinton, the writer Amadou Diallo or some other party, but whoever decided to turn Taiga’s hug goodbye for Chuck into a borderline collapse onto his shoulders out of pure relief deserves serious kudos. That one little moment took a minor character who could be seen as the butt of one of the episode’s running jokes and turned her into a real person, experiencing real, relatable emotions.

indeed.

As far as depictions of the moral bankruptcy of power go, showing the incoming police commissioner screening someone’s private sex tapes for the amusement of his cop buddies at a soiree in honor of his swearing-in is going to be tough for “Billions” to top.

again: indeed.

I’m not sure how I feel about the composer Brendan Angelides’s decision to score the revelation of Ira’s sex tapes with boom-chikka-bowwow porn music, but I’m leaning toward “It’s funny, so it’s allowed.”

i didn’t remember hearing this, so i rewatched that scene with the volume up, and… yeah, that’s pretty much what it sounded like.

I’m all for the episode’s tertiary plotline, the budding romance between Wendy and Bradford,

terrible taste!

but it reminds me that Wendy and Chuck’s sadomasochistic relationship is, at this point, the show’s biggest dropped ball. Other than using Chuck’s kink to write off Juliana Margulies’s character post-pandemic, this once-central aspect of the series — the show’s opening shot showed us Chuck in flagrante, remember — has completely fallen by the wayside.

i mean, it hasn’t fallen by the wayside so much as been deliberately set aside as a sign that chuck’s Grown As A Person (whether or not that actually makes sense), and also because he’s no longer married to someone who will dom him. but hey, troy the dominatrix is coming back in 7x06, so i’m sure you’ll have fun with that!

For having Dollar Bill, Victor, and Taylor talk with Chipmunk-esque helium voices, I salute this episode. That’s a bit that always works, or at least so I tell myself at parties.

the helium voices being played as “what cool people do to sound even cooler” rather than “what loser nerds do when they’re being especially loser-y” means the writers are with you on this one.

Vulture: Billions Recap: I’ll Wait

Unfortunately, “The Gulag Archipelago,” like most of the episodes in this final season of Billions, offered very little payoff. The only significant developments came in the form of Taylor officially joining Wendy and Wags in their fledgling Rebel Alliance/Fifth Column, Wags obtaining investment sign-off privileges — and Dave Mahar wresting the Mike Prince investigation from Chuck’s firm grip.

“this episode offered very little payoff other than these multiple significant plot developments.” what??

The Chuck story line was by far the most disappointing, as it just felt weak. Chuck Rhoades, the man who succeeded in shifting the Overton window regarding his BDSM proclivities, is now spending his time helping his deputy avoid, to quote Ira Schirmer directly, a “vanilla” sex scandal. SNOOZE.

if anything, that shows chuck learned a valuable lesson from the overton window incident: just because he’s willing to shout the details of his sex life to the world doesn’t mean other people, even the people he’s close to, want their own details shouted about, and that matters more than his own ambitions.

I don’t know. Something feels off about how easily Chuck let Dave take over the Prince investigation. It’s not just because Ira is his friend. Maybe he needs Ira to stick around should he need an even bigger sacrifice down the line? Who knows.

i’m conflicted about this myself. it could be that chuck genuinely has changed enough as a person that he’d make a major sacrifice simply for the sake of his best friend… but it could also be that he sees some crucial value in keeping ira around and/or in having dave involved with investigating prince that we can’t yet see.

There was also a half-baked subplot in “The Gulag Archipelago” that briefly caught us up with Chuck and Kate Sacker’s former colleague, Bryan Connerty.

that plotline did feel somewhat underdone. and it’s not like there wasn’t time in the episode to flesh it out!

What I don’t understand, though, is why does Kate keep putting off her own congressional run? Does she really think getting Mike Prince into the White House will be the leg up she needs? I do not like what’s become of this character at all, someone who once proudly referred to herself as a “political animal.” Billions has never spent enough time on Kate Sacker, and it shows.

well, she can’t start just any old time, since house elections only happen every other year. though at this point i am kind of surprised she’s planning to run for congress simultaneous with prince’s presidential run rather than just focusing on his campaign and/or expecting to get into his cabinet. perhaps the fact that she’s still seeking her own elected office is all the proof we’ll get, or need, that she hasn’t permanently hitched her wagon to prince.

Later that night, Wendy meets with Wags and Taylor at the MPC offices, where Taylor reveals they engineered the firm’s latest investment loss. Wendy refrains from giving Taylor a dressing-down like the one she gave Wags last week, but it’s obvious that these solo shenanigans aren’t wise in the long term.

well, unlike wags’s plan, taylor’s plan didn’t suck ass or put them in danger of being fired. (or endanger the lives of thousands of other people. presumably.)

That and, as I said earlier, you have to admit that all Billions line readings are a lot funnier when said with a mouthful of helium, which was the case here.

raising what is, to me, the most important lingering question of this episode: did the actors really inhale helium for that, or was that effect achieved some other way?

I am not sure I like the idea of a Wendy–Bradford Luke romance.

bringing back an old classic: SO TRUE VULTURE.

Millennials Taylor and Philip pretending they’ve never seen The Hunt for Red October by citing Alec Baldwin and Sean Connery cancelations was adorable.

i don’t know that “adorable” is the word i’d use, but it was entertaining. (though it does make me wonder about which other media they do or don’t refuse to engage with on similar grounds…)

Best line reading of the episode: Asia Kate Dillon’s calm and measured “Don’t call him that,” when Ari Spyros makes a “President Prince” reference.

again, it’s up there, but i wouldn’t even declare that the best line reading of that scene.

Fan Fun with Damian Lewis (Damianista): Billions on Showtime, Season 7 Episode 5: The Gulag Archipelago

Yet the problem solves itself when MP Cappers live a version of this story which ends up with a $1.6B potential gain gone for the company. Yikes!

1.4 billion, not 1.6 billion.

As the helium deal is “sitting as pretty as Jennifer Beals holding the blowtorch” (Flashdance was one of my favorites growing up)…

when i first watched that scene, i thought that was a sixteen candles reference based solely on the phrase “sitting as pretty,” re: the scene of sitting on the table. who among us hasn’t lit their birthday candles with a blowtorch?

As I am thinking about how someone can keep sensitive documents on his phone, Chuck nods Karl to leave the office so Ira can spill the actual beans: What is on the phone is Ira and Taiga’s homemade sex videos. I mean, it is nobody’s business if a couple takes pleasure in filming themselves but, again, why would you keep such sensitive material on your phone?

simple: 1) it was probably filmed with that phone 2) some people don’t protect sensitive information very well. remember the married couple from season 1 that chuck & wendy had dinner with once who claimed they used all the same passwords for everything? and how that prompted chuck & wendy to share their passwords with one another, which enabled chuck to steal confidential information from wendy’s laptop?

By the way, who is this Karl really? From his regular visits to the Gambler Anonymous meetings to catch a good case to knowing every single detail about every step of ID theft, he is such an enigma!

don’t forget how he used to roll on covert hostile actors! (with waterboarding. he waterboarded them.)

And we find out what kind of man keeps such videos on his phone: the kind that has his birthday as his password! OH. MY. GOD.

precisely!

Ira is extremely grateful and tells Chuck that he owes him one. Whaaaaat?  The Ice Juice incident alone is enough for Chuck to owe Ira for a lifetime of favors.

hence chuck reassuring him that the ledger is probably even.

So cheers to the Chuck who has done the right thing for his friend. I know I am repeating myself but THAT Chuck can even get his girl back!

why are you talking about wendy like this? (and why do you even want that???)

Prince is surrounded by very smart people who he thinks are loyal to him. And tonight when he says “If it was me in your shoes, I would find a way” at his team, he is missing the fact that there is someone at the table who would always find a way but chose not to: Taylor.

yes… ha ha ha… yes!

Entertainment Weekly: Billions recap: Prince starts to lose control

So, Chuck leaps into action to help his friend out, and honestly the storyline is a nice change of pace from the usual Prince-focused stuff.

it’s a lateral move for me.

It's a fine power play, but the real work of this storyline is to show a shift in Chuck. The idea is that he's trying to be true to himself at this point in his life, starting by coming back to his roots at the SDNY. Here, he gets to step up for his friend, no matter the professional cost.

so one hopes!

Elsewhere, we see that Michael Prince's political ambitions might be affecting his business.

“might,” lol.

While Billions once again shoehorns a stilted cameo into an episode, Prince and Scooter give up their phones in order to be allowed inside the studio, where Killer Mike previews his new album and ends up offering Prince an endorsement for his campaign. 

it made more sense than the kareem abdul-jabbar cameo, honestly.

When Prince returns to the office and learns that the company has missed out on $1.6 billion in revenue,

again: 1.4 billion, not 1.6 billion. i was so baffled by this recap and damianista’s both giving the same wrong number that i went back and rewatched the scene to make sure philip really did say 1.4. keep your eyes on your own paper, kyle!

Fan Fun with Damian Lewis (Gingersnap): The Unbeatable, Unstoppable, Unparalleled MVPs from Billions Season 7 Episode 5, “The Gulag Archipelago”

Gingersnap […] Best Pop Culture Reference in a Song – Taylor Mason. They told Victor to “pass the dutchie” somewhere else, rejecting the offer to suck helium from his balloon and join in on the funny voices shenanigans. Pass the Dutchie is a song by reggae group Musical Youth and was a popular, catchy tune in the 80’s. While debated today, “pass the dutchie” originally meant passing a joint (marijuana) around a smoking circle. So Taylor wasn’t partaking in the helium circle. Taylor does end up sucking helium from a balloon and speaking in a squeaky voice, but only to Wags and Wendy afterhours.

i’d figured out that “dutchie” was weed slang, but did not know it was a reference beyond that. til!

Bradford Luke and Kate Sacker have more chemistry and flirtatious behavior over a manila folder than Bradford and Wendy have over anything.

i said the same thing the first time i watched that scene between them. luker >>> wukey for sure.

Damianista […] Most Cruel – Kate Bryan was Kate’s colleague, friend (and fling for a short time) and equal just until a few years ago. What he’s accomplished by getting a law degree is way more impressive than that Kate has because Bryan grew up with a single mom who had to take multiple jobs to make ends meet whereas Kate grew up as a trust fund baby! Both had dreams as young assistant US attorneys at the SDNY and now look at them. Kate is now running for Congress, while I do not think being a Teppenyaki chef at Hibachi Shogun was Bryan’s dream. And as though this is not enough, Kate comes to Bryan’s workplace to threaten him to behave otherwise she can send him or his brother or maybe both back to prison. This is not only Kate but any character at their most cruel in Billions.

i disagree that this is the cruelest any character in billions has ever been. (this isn’t even the cruelest anyone in billions has been this season.) and in sacker’s defense re: connerty, his downfall was entirely on him getting caught tampering with evidence after she told him DON’T TAMPER WITH EVIDENCE, I KNOW YOU WANT TO BUT SERIOUSLY, DON’T DO IT OR YOU WILL REGRET IT twenty times.

Unexpected Literary Geek – Victor I am in awe of Victor of all people talking about Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s “The Gulag Archipelago” in the episode. He is not name-dropping, he knows what he is talking about. Bravo. As the great John Waters said: “If you go home with somebody and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them.”

apparently victor translates french literature in his spare time, so this isn’t too out of the blue.

TheTailThatWagsTheDog [] Most Classless – Soon-to-be Chief of NYPD Raul Gomez – showing Ira’s sex videos around to people at his swearing-in party? Completely classless, and borderline illegal? Certainly unethical. And this is the chief of police? Not cool.

yeah, man, can you imagine if the police took advantage of their power to exploit people like that? that would be crazy!

Least Believable Spark – Wendy and Bradford. Isn’t she old enough to be his mother? Yuck.

no? babak tafti, who plays luke, is about 37-38 to maggie siff’s 48. i’d guess luke is also in his thirties at minimum, making him at least twice the age of wendy’s actual children, who are teenagers. wukey sucks, but whatever age gap is between them isn’t why.

More of this please! -The Double crosses – first Taylor outflanking Prince (and everyone else) and then Dave besting Chuck – this is the stuff I watch it for. A plot twist that I didn’t see coming. Both of these were great, and just help build up the excitement. I am all in for this final season. Can’t wait for Friday!

agreed!

Fan Fun with Damian Lewis (Lady Trader): “From the Trader’s Desk”: Man the Torpedoes! Billions S7E5 “The Gulag Archipelago”

posted on a thursday! before the release of a new episode that would render it significantly less relevant! let’s keep that up!

I really want to focus on Taylor and their brilliant move in dinging the good ship Prince, so just a few thoughts first.

for once i completely agree with your priorities.

I do not think for one second that Chuck helped Ira get his phone back purely out of friendship. Chuck never does anything for anyone unless it advances his own agenda. There may have been 5% friendship in his motivation, but I’m being generous. We know when he sets his site on whichever white whale he is after, he doesn’t care who he harms in the process. He threw Ira and his Dad under the bus in the Ice Juice caper, and in his focus to get Jock Jeffcoat, he abandoned Wendy to the point where that was the straw that cause their divorce.

i get this perspective, but i don’t completely agree that chuck has never done anything for anyone that wasn’t self-interested. for instance, one reason ira and chuck were reconciled at all after the ice juice incident was that chuck helped him find out that taiga and an associate of hers were stealing from him and put a stop to it. he did that purely out of concern for ira, even though it did end up giving him insight into how to go after jock.

Prince trusts she’s all in on the “Prince POTUS” train, which I guess is the reason why he throws a computer through her glass wall when he finds out she really isn’t.

nope! it was a printer!

I think this shows that Prince doesn’t either trust Taylor and Philp, is a serious control freak, or a bit of both. When Taylor and Philip try to explain how this approval structure could hurt MPC, which would in turn hurt Prince, he basically dismisses them. There should be no issue because Prince says he is always reachable and if not, Scooter has sign off approval (oh the foreshadowing!). Taylor and Philip must be like the great Mike Prince and make it work somehow. We get another eye-rolling yarn about how Prince started his first business with two cans and some string (that’s not exactly what he said, but you get the picture). If he could be successful with nothing, they should have no issues with a $500M cap.

get his ass!

Axe tried to do this to Taylor back in Season 4, and it didn’t work out well for him. We know this is not going to work out well for Prince either.

i think you mean season 3, since you linked to your recap of 3x08 all the wilburys. also applies to season 5, honestly.

Time runs out before Prince and Scooter get their phones back (I still don’t understand why they had to give up their phones in the first place, and why they would agree to it) and see about a billion missed calls, texts, and voicemails.

it was a listening party for / in advance of a well-known artist’s first solo album in over a decade. they don’t want people using their phones to record and leak it. and there was no way prince was going to hang onto his phone against the wishes of the guy he was trying to secure a presidential endorsement from.

When Heckle and Jeckle finally get back to the office, instead of taking responsibility for their error, they throw it back on Taylor and Philip. They should have made it work somehow because the amazing Mike Prince would have! What an idiot! He set the parameters for something exactly like this to happen and instead of saying “my bad” he throws his employees under the bus? After the day they had? He truly does not deserve any of this staff.

and a great illustration of why he certainly shouldn’t be president!

Taylor needed to do this alone. They are the stealthy assassin! I don’t think Taylor expected Wags to get full sign-off, but it’s a big plus and will most likely come in hand down the road. This plan was a win-win because even if Prince had given approval, the firm would have made $1.4B. There was little downside in this magnificent plan. Taylor has been one of my favorite characters since they first set foot at Axe Cap, and nothing has changed. Always seeing the bigger picture is their specialty.

that’s right!!!

[khazadspoon]

Ok, here is some Big Boss is the MRE guy. Not much at the moment, more just an exploration of the AU generally speaking. But it’s fun to explore so have it anyway.

———

“Kept you waiting, huh?”

He smiled into the camera, adjusted the angle with one hand as he scratched idly at the back of his neck with the other.

“Sorry, I had some technical issues getting things set up. But it all looks green now.”

Messages started coming in, regular watchers and subscribers greeting each other with snake and frog emojis, some sending little saluting faces and “hi Boss”es. He did a mock salute and settled back in the chair a little.

John still felt a bit nervous starting a stream. It was the same if he started filming a video, or talked to a stranger, even when answering the phone. But there was still the little thrill at being adored and looked up to. He enjoyed it despite the nerves.

“So today will mostly be a questions and answer thing, I know there are some new people joining us so be polite. Later we’ll probably take a look at a mid nineties British ration pack but that’s only if we have time.”

The moderators started putting rules into the chat box and John cracked his knuckles. “Okay. Who’s first.”

The questions started coming in.

Who’s your favourite Spice Girl?

Where did you grow up?

How did you lose your eye?

What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten?

Do you ever get sick from eating so many weird things?

He couldn’t help chuckling at the range. There were always people asking silly questions, sometimes in jest but sometimes completely seriously, and he liked that; it was good, fun even, to be asked things that weren’t serious all the time. He had enough of that from his psychiatrist.

“I don’t know about the Spice Girls but I’ll say… Mel C. She seems pretty fun. I grew up all over, didn’t have a stable home, kind of an unusual family situation. But that’s a whole other story for another time.” He swallowed, rubbed at the eyepatch, and felt himself tense up. “The, uh, the eye was- not a good day if I’m honest. Let’s just say I was shot during a mission. Not sure I can legally go into the details anyway, confidentiality and all that.”

There were some apology messages and a few goading him on, the latter told in no uncertain terms to shut up by the mods if they wanted to stay. John rallied himself and got back to his answers.

“Food is a hard one to answer. Instant noodles are great, and some of the rations I had back when I was in active service were pretty tasty. But when there was nothing in my pack I think the King Cobra was pretty far up there. That or Russian glow caps… now they really recharge your batteries.”

A slew of snake emojis flew in, interspersed with questions and a few anecdotes from people who had similar experiences.

The next hour went by quickly. John answered more questions before taking out the British ration pack he’d bought a few weeks before. The calm control of talking about something he knew well took over. He described the packaging, the history behind its use, how to prepare it and what it tasted like; he told his viewers how he had known a British Major years ago, a man who was stereotypically obsessed with James Bond. It went well, overall. He noted a few usernames down after, people who were definitely veterans like himself, and made sure to keep an eye out for them if they came back.

He couldn’t quite remember how he’d first gotten into this life, couldn’t pinpoint the moment he went from ex-army who bought stuff online to showing other people the stuff to filming himself showing that stuff. It had just… happened. Eva had encouraged him both her and Adam saying the internet would “gobble him up”. Dr. Clark had been supportive too, offering her expertise to help him find rare specimens and letting him know if something was safe or not. And apart from the time he’d given himself food poisoning by ignoring her advice it had gone well.

She’d probably call him later and mock him about the mushrooms again. That was alright, they’d not had a proper conversation for a while.

Next door he heard laughter, the shutting of a door. A new neighbour again. There had been a few over the past ten years. He’d told Adam the place was empty but the man was happy drifting between the US and Russia when the mood struck him. There were plenty of places for him to stay, and John’s spare room was always free.

Outside he heard muffled voices, a man’s thanking someone and a “hear, take my card” before the door shut again.

His therapist had told him meeting new people was good for him, that it would help him relearn his social skills in public settings. He tried, introducing himself to people who got into conversation with him, and told himself he would go over in the next few days to say hello. Eventually, anyway, even if it took a few weeks to get round to.

The alarm on his watch beeped at him. He stood, walked to the small bathroom he kept meticulously clean, and took his pain medication. He stripped off his shirt and did his evening workout routine, his stretches, the massage he had been told to do on his arms and legs. He made dinner and watched an old movie. He went to bed, listening to the sound of someone next door getting used to a new environment.

Another day done.

[blueicequeen19]

went on a spree of a nine hour drive of reading just your blogs. what about dark!rafe x dark!jj x bestfriend kook!fem reader. where she’s best friends with rafe, jj hates her with a passion after she rejected him two years ago. she’s a virgin and one night where she’s home after the hurricane rafe is over to keep her company & jj was hired to clean up the mess. when he catches sight of rafe and reader laughing and being lovey towards one another he snaps. he waits until she’s alone and takes her (just teasing. he hasn’t actually taken her virginity yet). rafe comes & watches, calling her all kind of degrading names. both take her, you can decide who takes her actual virginity and who takes her anal virginity. (CNC , fingering, oral (m & f receiving) , cockwarming (in her throat), spanking, and degrading.)

You flatter me ❤️ thank you! I hope I do your dream justice 😏

Lead You On

Trigger Warning: NON-CON, CNC, MMF, swords crossing - read with caution!

It’s been a few days since the latest hurricane and clean up crews are still all over the property. Needing some fresh air and sunshine, I grab my sketch pad and pencils before heading outside to sit next to pool. This area has already been cleaned up and the pool is back to its beautiful clear blue color.

Movement further in the yard draws my attention to someone wearing a neon yellow shirt, indicating he is part of the storm clean up crew. I can’t help the way my body immediately heats in the cool spring air as I check out his body from behind. The muscles in his back bulged with each movement as he dragged tree limbs to a large pile to be hauled off.

It’s not until he turns around and I tear my eyes away from his massive biceps that I realize who I’ve been gawking at. His blonde locks are concealed by his ball cap and I almost feel sick realizing what I’d done.

It’s JJ. JJ Maybank.

The ruthless, impulsive, greedy Pogue who is known for having sticky fingers when it comes to valuables. I make a mental note to not let him inside the house. He eyes me with the same level of disgust I feel for him now that I can see his face. A face that is still handsome but no less belonging to a Pogue. I turn away, crossing my legs and letting my mind tell me what to draw.

I get lost in my sketch after turning on pandora, settling on some 90s pop to try and tune everything else out. I jump when my phone is suddenly snatched up off the table and JJ stands there fuming.

“If I’m going to be here all day cleaning up your fucking yard, I’m not going to do it listening to your shitty taste in music.” He silences my phone before tossing it into the yard.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I jump to my feet but he shakes his head with a snarl, turning away from me as I hear the back door shut. I turn to see Rafe walk over like he owns the place, casting a shitty look JJ’s way as he sits down at the table.

“What was that about?” Rafe asks, turning my sketch pad to examine my work. I march over to the yard and snatch up my phone, looking eyes with JJ as I sit back down next to Rafe.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” I grumble, yanking my sketch book away from Rafe and shutting it. I hated when people looked at my work.

“I think he’s got a thing for you.” Rafe shrugs, scrolling through his phone. My mind flashes back two years ago when I went to my first party and JJ was there. He was sweet and funny whereas I was awkward and shy. He’d been my first kiss and when he’d slipped his hand down my shorts, I’d panicked. I pushed him away and he’d been a dick ever since.

“He’s a Pogue.” I murmured in disgust. Rafe chuckled, meeting my eyes in agreement.

“Pogues know how to fuck. I’ve been around a few Pogue girls before.” Rafe shrugs and I bust out laughing at how vulgar he is.

“Jesus Rafe.” I mumble, glancing over to see JJ glaring at us like we were the ones who didn’t belong.

“Come on, Y/N. Live a little. Do you want to die a virgin?” Rafe smirks, wiggling his brows at me.

“No but I want to lose it to someone who’s not JJ Maybank.” I counter but Rafe only laughs with a shake of his head. Like he had more to say but he kept his mouth shut.

A few hours go by and Rafe leaves, leaving me alone with the angry Pogue. Part of me wanted to demand to know what his problem was. We didn’t even hardly know each other but he was shitty towards me every chance he got. I felt like he was one of those people that wore a mask. He had everyone fooled into thinking he was this great, charming guy when really, he was just as fucked up as everyone else.

The yard was starting to come back together and I could see the sweat dripping down JJ’s face. Part of me wanted to offer him a bottle of water. The other part hoped he’d die of a heat stroke. The nicer part of me wins and I go inside to the fridge. I shut the fridge and bite back a scream, finding JJ standing there angry as ever. He grabs me by the throat, slamming me into the counter and slapping the bottle out of my hands.

“You stupid little cunt.” JJ grabs the front of my dress and rips it down the middle. I push him but he spins me around, bending me over the island. I look up to see Rafe walk in. I thought he’d left?

He takes in my tattered clothes but doesn’t say anything. Just leans against the fridge like I’m not being assaulted.

“Her parents are gone for the day.” Rafe says to JJ, dread creeping in. Rafe played me. I throw my elbow back, connecting with something of JJ’s. He howls in pain and I know I’ve drawn blood but Rafe jumps in, grabbing my arms and holding me in place stretched over the counter.

“Fucking bitch.” I hear JJ groan as I kick and thrash. Rafe quickly removes his belt, JJ helping him secure my hands behind my back. Then JJ removes the rest of my clothes as I fight to calm my racing heart.

“What the fuck is going on?” I spat, tensing when I feel JJ’s fingers slide between my legs. I can’t help but moan when he finds my clit, forcing my legs open wider as he trades his fingers for his tongue.

“I owe JJ money so I agreed to help him teach you a lesson.” Rafe says casually, forcing two of his fingers in my mouth before I can argue. What the fuck did that mean? Teach me a lesson?

“Someone has to knock you off your high horse.” Rafe smirks, forcing his fingers down my throat until I gag then withdrawing just a enough so I don’t vomit. His thumb presses down under my tongue when I have the idea to bite his fingers off and it immobilizes me. Like a damn dog.

“She tastes like heaven.” I hear JJ groan between my thighs, one of his fingers slipping inside me. I whine around Rafe’s hold, my body growing hotter than I’d ever felt before.

“Not stuck up bitch?” Rafe chuckles, earning a glare from me. JJ laughs too, his fingers pumping inside me harder until I feel like I’m going to explode. I can’t stop the choked moans that leave my mouth, the tears running down my face and all the while I’m thinking.. more.. please.. I need more.

I flinch when JJ’s bare body comes down on mine, his mouth finding every inch of my skin and he turns my face from Rafe, capturing my lips in a hard kiss. He bites my lips hard enough to draw blood and I cry out, spotting what’s leftover of his bloody nose.

“Aren’t you going to beg?” JJ asks, reaching between us and I suddenly feel his dick pressing against my opening.

“For what?” I growl, spitting my blood in his face but he only smiles, not even blinking.

“For me to stop.” JJ presses inside me and I bite back a scream as I feel like I’m split in two. The pain is excruciating as he breaks my virgin walls.

He doesn’t waste anytime slamming inside me as Rafe jerks my chin up, pressing his dick to my lips.

“You bite me and it goes in your ass.” Rafe warns before shoving in past my teeth. I gag as he forces his way down my throat, holding me there as JJ takes what he wants. I can’t help it. I feel myself reach my high over and over again. I can’t stop cumming. I can’t control how wet I am. And I can’t get over the feeling of being absolutely used like I’m not but a set of holes. My body loves it. While the rest of me hates myself.

Droll is dripping down my chin and the corners of my mouth as Rafe forces me to warm his cock, the counter top digging into my hips with every hard thrust from JJ as he fucked me like a man possessed. Like he’d die if he didn’t.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, JJ stills with a loud moan making me involuntarily clench around him because it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life. Both boys pull out at the same time and I sob for the terrible ache of being.. empty.

“Let me go.” I whisper, unable to pull myself off the counter.

“I have an idea.” Rafe says, rubbing my cheeks like he’s trying to take the soreness out. I can’t see JJ but I assume he agrees because they both maneuver me on top of the counter, securing my legs against my chest using smooth rope. Where did that even come from?

I was bent in half like a pretzel, giving them access to everything they wanted. I’m turned on my side and brought to the edge of the counter. I look up to see JJ and he wipes my hair off my face, plucking my sore lip with his thumb as he smiles down at me like a hungry animal. I feel his cock press against me again then he’s slipping inside. I moan loudly, the angle felt weird but it was still amazing. A soreness I’d never experienced before plagued my whole body.

“Don’t tense up.” JJ says and I look up at him in confusion. I suddenly feel something probing my.. other hole and I quickly try to move away as Rafe slaps my ass with a laugh. I hear Rafe spit, lubing me up.

“Come on, it’ll feel good. Eventually.” Rafe presses inside me, knocking the wind from my lungs as they both fill me completely. God, it burns. I thought I was being split open before but now.. even my stomach hurt.

“I-It.. JJ.. please.” I can’t form a single sentence as they start to move, one in and one out, setting a quick rhythm that wrecks me so hard I swear my soul leaves my body. They take turns slapping my ass as they use me like a sex toy, pounding into me without remorse, overwhelming me with pleasure until tears stream down my face.

“Fuck, she feels so good. I’m gonna cum.” Rafe chants, their motions quickening as they chased their highs. My body had turned to mush. I could no longer tell where I ended and they began as I fought to keep my eyes open. Rafe groans as he cums, slipping from my ass a moment later and JJ quickly follows.

“Such a nasty little slut. Letting us fuck all your holes. I’d think you were lying about being a virgin if I hadn’t seen you bleed.” JJ sneers, pulling free of me as Rafe unties me. I groan as the feeling quickly returns to my limbs. I think they’re done but Rafe rolls me onto my back, burying his face in my pussy, lapping up the cum that drips from me.

“No, no, Rafe. Please.” I cry, trying to fist his hair but he quickly secured my wrists in one of his hands. I lift my head off the counter when I see JJ move behind Rafe, thrusting his dick into Rafe’s ass with no warning. Rafe moans loudly into my flesh and I choke on a sob. I’d never seen two guys fuck before - even if my only experience was porn but it was hot. Seeing an alpha male like Rafe let JJ use him in such an animalistic way.

“You like this? Like watching me fuck his ass?” JJ growls, pushing Rafe’s head harder into my pussy. “You tell anybody and I’ll make you regret it.” JJ snarls, his movements growing harder as Rafe grew louder. I dropped back down on the counter as another powerful orgasm hit me like a freight train.

“Jerk your cock. I know you can cum again.” I hear JJ say and Rafe answers with a moan. I try to scoot away but Rafe doesn’t let me. JJ moans loudly, releasing inside of Rafe and quickly pulling away. Rafe straightens, jerking his cock hard and fast until it shoots out all over my stomach. My eyes fall closed just as JJ fists Rafe’s hair and brings him in for a hard kiss as my world turns black.

My eyes slowly open as I try to find my bearings. My body felt like it’d been hit by a bus as I try to wake myself up. Where was I? This wasn’t my bed? Movement to my left has me glancing over, finding Rafe face down in the bed as JJ hovers over him, slamming into his ass over and over again.

“There she is.” JJ grunts and Rafe shoots his hand out, grabbing my breast harshly as he pants. I can’t help the wave of need that washes over me as I watch them. I watch them until they’re both cumming, my body feeling like a live wire as arousal pools between my thighs.

JJ slips off Rafe, allowing Rafe to scoot over to me and kiss me passionately, his lips much softer than JJ’s. My toes curl as his hand slips between my thighs.

“Careful. We might start to think you want this.” Rafe says against my sore lips, toying with my clit. I feel my legs being spread then a mouth closes around my clit, sucking harshly as Rafe swallows my sounds. I turn away from him as I try to catch my breath meanwhile JJ is fucking me with his tongue.

“Rafe.. I thought we were friends.” I murmur, my body ready to explode as JJ tastes me so expertly. Rafe smiles, running his hands up and down my body and pinching my nipples.

“We are friends. Best friends, actually. Why do you think I’m taking such good care of you?” Rafe jerks my head back to kiss me again as JJ slips two fingers inside my abused hole. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to claim your virginity, would you?” I can’t answer as JJ curls his fingers, forcing an orgasm from me so rapidly.

“It’s funny, really. JJ has been pining after you for years. Meanwhile all you did was lead him on, never giving him the time of day.” JJ suddenly flips me over onto my stomach, pressing his cock against my other hole without warning. It slips in and I cry out into the blanket as Rafe tries to soothe me with gentle touches.

“I never led him on.” I bite out, the sound of JJ’s pleasured grunts having me close again already.

“Yea? You didn’t kiss him, making him think you wanted him just to turn around and kick him to the curb? You didn’t use your friendship with me to try and make him jealous? You didn’t give him fuck-me eyes every time you saw him? I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Rafe taunts, forcing his hand between me and the bed to stroke my clit. I bite back a scream as I cum violently, JJ’s skin slapping against mine faster and harder.

I’m suddenly flipped over and JJ shoots white hot cum all over my stomach, his face scrunched in a snarl as he looks at me, jerking his cock hard, getting every last drop. Rafe runs his hand through JJ’s spunk, rubbing it into my skin like lotion all the way up to my neck.

“So that’s what your problem is? Your ego couldn’t handle rejection?” I spat at JJ, slapping him in the chest as he stays straddling my waist.

“I had that first taste of you after you pushed my hand away and I’ve been obsessed since. Even after you treated me like garbage.” JJ growls, leaning down so we’re almost nose to nose. I felt like I was being cornered by two hungry lions. There was no escape.

“And now that I’ve had you, I’m never letting you go.”

Tag list: @lovedetlost @hoebx @strokesofstokes @alizabethcs @carnisidi @famousdestinygarden @i-always-come-back-xoxo @pankowforlife @my-baexht-ls @onmykneesforrafe @slutforsmutsstuff @bethoconnor @hellosexxxysalvatore @mrsjakeseresin @belcalis9503 @maybanks-luver @i-always-come-back-xoxo @adventuresinobx @hopebaker @drewbooooo @itsmytimetoodream @houseofperfecttaste @harlowsgirl @wh0reforstefansalvatore @urmommas Let me know if I missed anyone! 💕

[alonetimelover]

Action! - Heartbreak Anniversary- 2023

Pairings: ex!Harry Styles x Director!Reader x Joseph Quinn

Summary: Harry has an emotional and heartfelt conversation with his mother and sister. If it wasn't heartbreaking enough - to be this vulnerable and open - they had some news for him. Something that would tip the scales at the breaking point.

Warnings: it's angst. harry's not very polite. some self-degrading talk. some swear words. pregnancy is mentioned.

Word count: ~3,4k

A/N: While writing the whole thingy I was listening to this beautiful song, Heartbreak Anniversary (hence the title) by Giveon. It inspired this piece of a story, so give it a listen.

series masterlist let's talk about action!universe

“How do you feel after today’s session, Harry?”

“Pretty good. It’s - it’s nice to talk about it with someone, someone unbiased,” Harry expressed, searching for the right words. Words that would sound convincing. He knew Doctor McCanister would catch him on his lies but he needed to at least try.

“You’re lucky this session is almost over. You’re capping over and over again. You trusted me with so much from your past and present, why do you think you can’t trust me with this?”

After a solid minute of silence Harry whispered, “I don’t know. She was - she is still important to me even though she’s no longer a part of my life. Knowing it all could be different if I hadn’t done what I did. It - it’s making me overthink, reminding myself of everything I did wrong.”

“Does it work for you?”

“What?”

“Keeping it all to yourself, slowly rotting in this feeling.” She noted something down in her brown notebook. “All that emotional build-up is going to explode sooner rather than later, Harry,” Dr McCanister warned him.

“I don’t think I’m ready. I have this thought in the back of my head that if I tell anybody all that is here,” he placed his pointing finger to his temple, “and here,” moving the finger to his heart, “I’m going to lose her forever. Those thoughts and feelings are the last thing I have of her. Emotional thing.”

From the look on Doctor’s face he knew he needed to justify his words.

“Umm, I have lots of photos or her, old clothes that she’d never taken from ou- my house in LA. But they don’t bring me any - I dunno - there’s no comfort. No warmth. And when I’m thinking of her, of us, it brings me that comfort.”

“And pain?”

“I deserve it. I am responsible for our relationship ending on that bad foot, I am responsible for everything bad that happened to her after the breakup. It’s all my fault. And if a minute of comfort from the memories of her, and feelings that I still have for her cost me hours and days and weeks of sorrow and pain, then so be it. I’ll do anything to feel somehow 1% as happy as I felt with her by my side.”

It was the first time Harry spoke honestly about YN and their past relationship. It was a taboo whenever he went, even therapy. He knew the importance of speaking up about his feelings, sharing his emotions so he wouldn’t be alone to deal with them. But after losing YN, it wasn’t present in his relations with other people.

He felt like he deserved the pain. He hurt her so now he was the one to be hurt.

When they broke up - when YN broke up with him - he didn’t understand the importance she as a person had in his life. The scant and ethereal feeling succumbed him away from YN. Something new, exciting, nonroutine. Someone new fascinated him. Before he knew it, he was already gone, letting himself fall for an unknown.

He regretted it greatly, but it was too late. She moved on.

Everyone thought he moved on too. While still being in a relationship with YN, he moved on. But it was wrong. To the last day of their relationship he was faithful, and at the same time he let himself be pulled away, forget momentarily.

After calming down a little and doing a few breathing exercises with Dr McCanister, Harry left the clinic, having paid for the session.

On his way home, the phone call disrupted his Rumours listening session.

“‘Ello? I’m driving so I hope it’s important.”

“Hello my darling. Put me on speaker,” Anne said, her voice breaking here and there.

Harry did as his mum told him to, “all done. How are you, mum?”

“Good. Good. The weather is finally nice, so-"

“You didn’t call me to talk about the weather, did you?” Harry interrupted his mother, making her very audibly swallow. “Something happened?”

“No, no. Do you have some time to spare for your mother’s visit?”

“And sister’s!” Harry heard Gemma's voice shouting over Anne’s.

“Of course. I’m just going back from my appointment with Dr McCanister. I’ll be home in about 15 minutes? That’s alright with you?”

“Oh sure, sweetie. I’ve got a key to your house. We’ll just let ourselves in.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

***

When Harry got home, Anne and Gemma were already there, making themselves comfortable. Anne was making tea in the kitchen and Gemma, like always, was snooping for some new vinyls or papers with song ideas. Harry was used to leaving them everywhere.

“Hello there. To what do I owe the pleasure of having you both here?” Harry asked while walking into the living room.

“Like we can’t visit your annoying ass, brother,” Gemma laughed, smirking at pouting Harry.

“Gemma, be nice,” Anne reprimanded, walking inside the room. “Cannot we visit once in a while? We haven’t seen each other since you started the break.” She turned to her youngest child.

“I know. It’s nice to see you, mum.” Harry swiftly came up to his mother and embraced her in a bone-crushing hug, swaying from left to right. “Missed you.”

“Oh, I missed you, too, honey.”

“Ekhem,” Gemma interrupted the heartfelt moment between mother and son. “I’m here, too. And I also missed you, H.”

Harry smiled at his mother, teasingly rolling his eyes at Gemma’s words, making Anne grin at him. She loved her children so much, that seeing them being so close to each other was the best thing a mother could ask for.

“Come here.”

After the warm and longed-for siblings’ hug, and the joint one with their mother, they all moved to the patio to have the tea. Harry, unprepared for any visit, found some cookies to go with the beverages.

The weather outside was beautiful, this year's July was surprisingly warm in London. Harry’s garden was blossoming, different flowers, bushes and trees waking up to life, beautifying the area. At the same time, it needed a gardener. Since YN, no one put a foot near the beds. Weeds were slowly overcoming parts of the place.

His garden was the living epitome of him. There wasn’t a gardener good enough, good like the last one, to help.

“How was the appointment with Dr McCanister?”

Harry tensed at the question. He wanted to forget about that meeting.

“Like always. Hard.”

This time Gemma tensed. It was hurting her to see how much Harry was struggling. Years after the break up, he couldn’t get up, couldn’t find peace. He loved her too much, if that was possible.

“Did you talk about her?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“It’s not therapy anymore, mum. I’ve had one already. Talked enough about feelings.” Harry sounded frustrated, was frustrated.

“And I’m not your therapist but a mother that worries about her son.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing. It’s - she - she’s gone. Not here anymore, she’s got her life with someone else, and I can’t stand it.” Harry hid his face in his hands, pulling at the locks of hair. The emotional build-up that Dr McCanister was talking about, making its presence known. “It’s been three years. Exactly three years. And - and I hate this day.”

Anne just sat down next to Harry, placing her hand on his back, stroking it slowly. Comforting him. He didn’t need anyone to ask questions, he needed someone to listen.

“I don’t deserve to think about her because I was the one to contribute to her leaving me. It was all my fault-”

“Harry, stop. It wasn’t-”

“No, mum. It was. It is. I didn’t cherish her. I let myself be captivated by the bliss of a relationship that I had with Olivia. I threw away three years with YN to follow the excitement of something new. It was my decision and it’s something I’m gonna regret forever. And now? Look at me? Look at her.” Harry scoffed.

“She’s happy,” said Gemma, earning an uneasy look from her mother. “And you need to accept that.”

“Easy to say not being in my shoes.”

“You’re not the only one that lost her, Harry,” Gemma said firmly.

“Gemma, not now.”

“Yes, now, mum. You,” she pointed at Harry. “You were everything to her. She got people promising her the moon, sending flowers. She didn’t bat an eye. She was in love with you. She was-”

“Don’t say that.”

“What? She was, Harry. She loved you so much. She cared about you, supported you, followed you everywhere. She was there for you any second. Any moment you needed her, she was there. And what did you do with that?”

She left the question to linger in the air. She bottled her feelings up for those three years.

YN was her best friend. Her sister. They understood each other without words. And with the break up happening, it wasn’t the same. YN didn’t feel comfortable with her or Anne as she did in the past. They still talked, met up, and had sleepovers. But it wasn’t the same.

Gemma understood that Harry losing the love of his life, by his own mistake, was hard for him. And it hurted her seeing him heartbroken. At the same time, she was angry. He hurted YN. Made her leave him. That’s at least how she understood the situation. YN didn’t talk much about the breakup with anyone.

“I screw up, alright? I know that, Gem. I know! Do you think I’m blaming her for that breakup? No! It was my fault. I drove to that. I thought I lost my feelings. I thought there was not much love between us anymore. I realised it too late. I know it! All of it. And it hurts.”

Harry before starting his monologue had stood up, and paced back and forth.

“It hurts so bad. I dream of her. I see her everywhere. Her - her things are still here, staring at me like souvenirs. I look at my phone every night, going through our pictures. Our texts, the latest that she didn’t answer. I play back the last time we were together each time before falling asleep. I remember everything that I said and didn’t say. I remember her face, the smile slowly fading. Tears strolling down her cheeks. Pain in her eyes. I remember everything.”

“Harry, that's enough. Please, sit down.” Anne tried to pull him off that self-degrading talk.

“You know what’s funny?” he asked rhetorically, sitting down on the grass. “That night at the venue, three years ago, when - when I proposed,” he sobbed softly. “I had the speech. How she made me happy and was my family, and - and how you guys treated her like a daughter and sister you’ve never had. How I appreciated her work and our relationship. And - umm - I praised her.”

Harry took a pause, breathing deeply, trying to calm down a bit. Unsuccessfully.

“I wasn’t looking at her till she stopped me. I - I couldn’t look into her eyes deep down knowing how I felt, really felt at that moment. She stopped me, asking one question.”

“Do you still love me?”

Her voice was shaky because of all the crying. He didn't look at her once today. From the moment he picked her, through the dinner they had at the restaurant and till the moment she stopped his proposals. Somewhere deep in herself she knew why he wasn’t able to look at her, but was hoping she wasn’t right. It all was going to be a nightmare. She was going to wake up next to him, sleeping soundly.

He looked at her.

And stayed silent.

YN learned that day how loud the silence could be. How definitive and thundering it could feel. Terminating.

“Do you?” she choked out.

There was no sound of the voice. Just the one of a heart breaking apart.

“She dropped my hand and left, saying she’d be out of my house in an hour. It was our house, our home. We were supposed to grow old here. To - to spend forever there.”

“Harry, honey. You need to let her go.”

“I can’t! Don’t you understand? Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to do that. It’s the last thing bringing me joy in life. She’s my antidote. Always has been, always will be.”

Gemma sat next to Harry and hugged him. He sobbed into her neck, shaking heavily. She felt his pain and regretted deeply her words that encouraged and strengthen that feeling of guilt Harry had.

Anne was sitting on the chair still, crying. It was the first time she heard the story about the engagement.

“Is she happy? Really happy?” Harry asked after calming down a little.

“She is,” answered Anne. “Joseph, he’s a good man. He treats her well.”

“Have you met?”

Gemma looked at Anne worried. They met Joseph. Went to dinner with him and YN a few times. Last time was just two days ago, when they came back from Italy.

YN wanted Anne and Gemma to know it before the pictures were uploaded. Joseph threatening paparazzi with charges bought her a few days to tell some important people in her and Joseph's lives about their secret.

“Why are you looking at each other like that? Is he really good?”

“He is,” Gemma answered immediately.

If Harry couldn’t be the one for YN, Joseph was perfect. There was something between them that no one understood. The way they looked at, understood or talked about each other was so unique, so genuine. It was heartwarming to see YN being that happy after what she had gone through with Harry.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Two days ago we met for dinner.”

“Gemma, it’s not a good time to be talkin’ about it. Please,” Anne begged, knowing the news would crush her son tremendously.

“It’s never going to be a good time, mum,” she said to her mother. It would be better if Harry learned that information from her and not the internet. “YN is taking a break from her career. For the next two or three years.”

“Why?”

“She’s pregnant,” Gemma whispered after a moment of silence.

If it was possible, they would hear Harry’s heart being ripped out of his chest and thrown to the ground. Laying there broken in a million pieces, not possible to glue back together. It was over. Now like ever, it felt real. He lost her. There was no possibility anymore, no prospect. The final curtain dropped.

“Do you want kids?” Harry asked, tracing shapes on YN’s naked back. Her head was lying on his chest, close to his heart.

“Someday, when I’m ready to be responsible for another human being. Do you?"

“I’ve always dreamt of a big family.”

“How big?”

“How big would you want?”

“Two for sure. So they would be able to take care of themselves when mum wants a quick break.”

“With dad?” He smirked.

“Stop it!” She slapped his chest playfully, looking up at him with a big smile on her face. “But maybe.”

Harry grinned at her and kissed her lips. Because of the smiling and laughing their teeth would clash, but they didn’t care. That moment they were so happy. Nothing else mattered.

“Is she - they - are they healthy? YN and the baby?” He asked finally.

“Yeah, healthy as a horse. Both of them. Pregnancy treats her well,” Anne said carefully, not knowing if Harry was going to lash out any minute.

“That’s good. That's good. It’s what matters the most, right?” It sounded like a programmed answer.

Harry gently made his mother loosen the grip she had on his shoulders. He needed to get up, to get away from people. He felt all of the emotions slowly entering his mind, his soul. Breathing started to get harder. More tears gathering in his eyes. Stabbing pain in his chest was getting more severe, but it couldn’t be his heart. He had lost it with that information.

“I - I’m tired,” he tried saying, but it sounded more like a whimper.

“Harry, my sweet boy.”

Anne walked up to him, trying to make him look at her, and failing. He dropped her hands, which had been briefly placed on his cheeks. There was no way to calm him down. No way to help him. How, if his heart wasn’t there? When the last drop of hope vanished, leaving his chest dry as a desert.

“I want to be alone.”

“You shouldn’t be. You don’t have to be alone. Please, let me - let us be here for you” his mum begged.

“I’ll call you, okay? I need to be alone, mum.”

And after more convincing from Anne, she and Gemma left. There wasn’t a chance for Harry to cave in.

The moment the front door closed, Harry sat on the floor hugging his knees to his chest. He swayed back and forth because of the sobs that were escaping his mouth. His eyes were like a river source, but a river was of tears. And it wasn’t slowing down, much less stopping. It was staining his cheeks, slowly moving to the red T-shirt he was wearing, decorating it with darker spots.

Deep down he was happy for her. After all, she always wanted to be a mother. She talked about dreaming of the family she could have, would love to have. Those times, she wanted it with him. However, they never came to the conclusion of what names were perfect. Maybe it was better for him.

He pulled out his phone from the jeans’ pocket and clicked the message icon. Was he going to text her? Yes. Was that a mistake? Yes. But he couldn’t stop typing.

Harry

Congratulations on your pregnancy, YN. Hoping the baby and you are healthy, H.

He didn’t count on the response. Considering that his previous messages to her were rather misplaced, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had blocked him. For a long time he was making decisions that he knew were wrong, that were probably hurting her current relationship. And, as bad as it sounded, and felt, it was giving him false hope. It was cruel of him. Desperation made him do things that were hurting her. And he would repeat them until the moment he realised that he was a bad guy. That when he told everybody he had never wanted to hurt her, he was still doing it.

Then the process would repeat itself.

yn🌻

Thank you, harry. We’re feeling great, baby’s healthy

And if he wasn’t surprised enough with one text, he got another.

yn🌻

Annie’s said you took a break, how is it going?

Unconsciously, he slipped into that process, hurting her again with his words.

Harry

You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I understand. Just wanted to congratulate you after mom told me about your pregnancy.

yn🌻

I think I'm mature enough to put the past in the past. Also anne is seemingly worried about you, Harry.

But if you don’t feel comfortable yet, then it’s okay. Thank you again for the message. Hope you are well.

Those two messages came in immediately after his. He wanted to write so much. Tell her how he was feeling. How lost and broken he was. Tell her how much he loved her. Missed her. Longed for her. How, every night, he dreamt of her. Happy dreams with them being content and together. And nightmares, much more frequent, where she wasn’t his. Nightmares that were blending into reality.

With his phone screen still showing those messages, he finally moved from the floor, slowly walking to the bedroom. He placed the phone on the bed and walked up to the wardrobe. From under colourful sweaters he pulled out the one he was looking for.

He laid down on the bed, and cuddled the soft material, inhaling its scent. It no longer was hers, but the fact she made it for him and wore it more frequently than him, could make up for that.

When the wind started to come through the open windows, he didn’t move. It was cold outside, like when she walked out of his life. It was cold like the day they had their first date. Like the day they met, when he thought about forever with her.

These days feel like you and me, Harry thought.

He put the sweater on, turning to the side of the bed where his phone was lying. Where she used to lay.

Harry

Do you ever think of me?

deleted

[andydrysdalerogers]

Where is Home? (Chris Evans)

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 3.7K ish

Songs: Bring Me Love - John Legend

Summary: Its Christmas Eve and you are just trying to make your flight home to Boston. And of course nothing goes right. Especially when you accidentally insult a fellow Bostonian… one of its more famous ones…

Warnings: smut, drinking, minor angst,

Banner made by @firefly-graphics

A/N: I wrote this for a Christmas 2021 prompt however this tweet inspired me to share it now. Read on, it’ll make sense…

RIP iPhone 6.

It’s like a scene from a damn Christmas movie.  You are running though the concord of the airport in Chicago, desperate to make it to the gate of your flight.  Boston, your final destination, in sight.

“Excuse me, pardon me,” you say as you weave in and out of the crowd.  “64B,” you chant as you look for the right gate. Of course, it’s the one farthest from you but you haul ass, not wanting to miss this flight.

Which you do because the universe just likes to fuck with you.

You see the plane roll back from the window and you let the lone tear roll down your check.

“Is it gone?” You hear from behind you. You wipe the tear, ignore the question and start to talk to the gate attendant to see what you can do to get home. Hoping there is a flight in the next few hours.  And there is nothing.  You would have to wait until the morning to get onto another flight to Boston.  The other attendant is explaining the same things to a man in a cap standing next to you.  A Boston boy from the looks of it, with his Sox cap low on his brow and a Patriots hoodie underneath a leather jacket.

“That’s brave,” you say under your breath as you wait for the attendant to book your seat and give you a replacement ticket.

“What is?”

Shit, he heard you. But you put on a brave face.

“Wearing all that Boston shit in a town that loves its team and hates ours.” You offer a smirk at your words.  You’re a Boston girl through and through and while you work in Chicago, home is where your family is, in Boston.

“Every city hates our teams, that’s just facts,” he replies, still looking down at what you assume is his phone.  Small thing, as you look at it and realized…

“Are you still rocking an iPhone 6?”

You look away and try to not slam your head into the counter.  Your filter was usually better but that one slipped.  The attendant slides you your ticket and an offer for a hotel, which you accept.  You thank them and start to move towards the front of the airport to catch a cab.  You have 18 hours before your 6 am flight and you might as well rest in said hotel room.

You moved through the crowd, not as fast this time.  Just walking away from your disappointment at the flight and your awkward interaction with a fellow Bostonian.  Lost in thought, make a mental note to call your mom, you feel a hand at your elbow, stopping you.  “Is there a problem with my iPhone 6?”

You look at the hand holding you and look up and are hit with what has to be the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen.  You stumble back and realize you had insulted not just a Bostonian but one of the more famous ones. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it.  Just didn’t realize people held on to old tech for so long anymore.”

Chris Evans stared at you longer than you knew was appropriate.  He knew you from somewhere but couldn’t place it.  The curve of your face, your hair, the lips that really captured his attention were all just so familiar.  He was finally able to formulate a response. “I don’t want to lose the pictures I have.  And why change something when it ain’t broke?  Is that good enough for ya, sweetheart?”

The one thing you missed about Boston was that accent.  That damn drawl that always made you weak in the knees.  How every word had its own pronunciation that, as the reporter that you were, had to lose so that the good people of Chicago could understand you. But it slipped out of you to reply.  “Yea, its good enough.  Sorry.”  You shrugged out of his grasp. Or tried to as he held you tighter.

“I know you.”

What a statement.  From a stranger.

“No, you don’t.  Let me go please.” You tried to pull away. “I’m a nobody.”

But he held you tighter.  And then realization hits him.  And he lets go.  “You’re a reporter.”

“One in the same.  Its YN.  See you around Mr. Evans.”  And you take off.  But he’s hot on your heels.  And grabs you again.  Obviously not learning from the mistake.  You stop and look at his hand again.  He lets go but stammers, “I’m so sorry.  Please don’t report this.”

You laugh.  ���You obviously don’t know what I report.  It ain’t Hollywood news.” 

He smiles.  “I know that. I mean I know what you do.  You’re good. Really good.  Been watching Hawks games just to listen to your broadcasting.”

You flush. Being the rink reporter for the Blackhawks was your dream job.  Getting to talk to the players, giving insight to the game, showing off your knowledge for the sport that you love, it was almost perfect.  It would be perfect in Boston.  “Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles that radiant smile that truly made every girl swoon.  “You’re from Boston?”

“Yea, trying to go home for Christmas.”

“So you aren’t going be on for the next few games.” He is enamored with you although you feel like he’s just interrogating you at this point.

“Ahh, no. Missing the Kings and Knights but I will be on for the Boston game.”

“At home? You are?”

You flush again.  He was genuinely interested. In the middle of an airport.  You look around and he can sense the problem.  Too open, too public.  “Right.  Drink?”

You shook your head. “I was headed to my hotel.  Can’t fly home until tomorrow.”

“The Hilton?”  He gave the name of the hotel with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah, take advantage of the free room.”

“Me too.  So, drink at the hotel bar?”  He looked hopeful. “Share a cab there and back in the morning?”

Chris Evans is asking you to go out for a drink.

Who are you to be impolite? “Sure,” you said hesitantly.

Chris smiled big again.  He offered his arm this time.  You looped it through, and he guided you out to the private car that was waiting.

“I thought you said cab,” you said accusingly, eyes narrowing.

“C’mon, would you have said yes if I said I had a private car?”

He wasn’t wrong.  You shook your head, and he opened the door.  You slid into the town car and all the way over.  He got in right behind you and asked the driver to take you to the airport Hilton.  10 minutes later, you climbed out and headed in, removing your heavy coat. 

Chris hung back as you checked into your room.  Dressed in black and gray, he admired how your black turtleneck was tight around the curves of your torso, your grey pencil skirt wrapped your ass perfectly, stopping just above your knees.  Your legs covered in what he assumed were stockings that tucked into the black boots you wore.  He observed your necklace, a watch, and earrings but no rings.  He saw you turn back to him, room key sliding into your pocket.  He took in your face again.  Simple, classic, hair up in a ponytail, beautiful.

He moved to check in and asked for a room right next to yours. But you were too busy looking down, fiddling with your watch, a nervous habit, to overhear the request.

“Ready?”

You looked up to his crystal blue eyes.  “Yeah, what floor?”

“10.”

“Same.” You roll your eyes at the coincidence.

You headed into the elevator, trying to maintain some space.  Because the man is intoxicating all by himself. He had shed himself of his leather jacket, staying in the Boston hoodie and hat.  The beard was neat and trimmed. He let go of his rollaway to stretch for a moment, his sweater raising slowing along with his shirt.  She could see a flash of taut skin right above his jeans and a red belt standing out.  You looked away and tried not to blush.  A flash of desire ran through your body when thoughts of what he could do with that belt ran in your mind. Jesus, had it really been that long?

Chris knew what he was doing.  You were sexy as hell, a little Aphrodite, drawing him in.  She was a pistol, he thought.  Perfect, Boston bound, into sports and sassy.

They made it to their individual rooms and went into.  The room was simple, just the necessities.  Bed, TV, towels and an extra door.  Odd, you thought, but whatever. You went to the bathroom and washed your face, reapplied some of the makeup and went to lay down.  The bed was comfortable at least.  You almost dozed until you heard a knock.  You went to the door but found no one there.  But the knock came again.  You looked at the extra door.  And again, there was a knock.  You opened and there stood Chris, void of his sweater this time, just a black t-shirt, jeans, the red belt, hat and boots. He smiled when you answered. “Ready for that drink?”

“Sure,” you grabbed your purse as he entered your room. You made sure you had your room key and headed downstairs.  As soon as the elevator doors opened, Chris placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the hotel bar.  Seated at a table in the corner, a waiter came by.  You ordered a gin martini and Chris ordered a beer.

“How long have you been in Chicago?”

“Three years. Being a commentator for a hockey club had been my dream for years.  Its almost perfect.”

“How is it not perfect?”  Chris leaned in to hear you.

“Because it’s not Boston.”  The drinks made it to the table, and you took a sip, needing the liquid courage.

“I mean I get why Boston is so awesome.  But why?”

“Home is where my family is.  My home is in Boston.  I wouldn’t have to travel so much.  Maybe I could settle down and have my own family.”  He opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him.  “I get it, I could do that in Chicago but,” you sigh, “it’s not Boston.”

He stared at you again.  You really were perfect. “So, you are commentating in Boston?”

“Yeah, for a try out. If I can nail it, I can move for the next season.” You stare off in the distance, watching the highlights for last nights game.

“So why wait until Christmas Eve to travel?”

“Why did ya wait?” Your accent showing though.

Chris laughed hard.  “Yea, I guess I earned that one.  I had a meeting with a producer and a shoot for an ad.  Guess I just didn’t plan it correctly.”

“At least you’re honest.  A headline for a story during my next broadcast.  Captain America is bad at planning.”  You waived your hand like seeing a banner.  “Breaking News at 11.”  You giggle and Chris laughs with you.

“Sweetheart, you know you will blow all the fans out of the water with that.  He is the man with a plan.”

“A badly executed plan but whatever.”  You take another sip.  Chris watches as your cheeks become rosier with the alcohol, just adding to the beauty of your face.

“You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.  Why wait until Christmas Eve?”

“I had the game last night and then I figured I just fly in like Santa.  It wasn’t a bad plan until my ex decided to show up at my apartment.  Six months later and you would think he would get it in his thick skull we were done.” This statement caused you to down your martini.  

“Its what you get for dating a Chicago boy.” Chris tsked at you.

“That’s fair.”

The drinks kept going, Chris insisting next that you should eat. You got to know Chris better over a Christmas Eve dinner of pretzels and mozzarella sticks. 

“If you could have one wish for Christmas that would absolutely come true, what would it be?” you ask.

He sat back and looked at you.  He took a long swallow of beer.  “I would like to find a girl and have her raise a family with me in Sudbury.  I’ve been lookin’ and I can’t seem to find the right one.”

You could see the regret in his eyes, of not having the dream.  But you understood, its what you wanted.  You didn’t say anything, knowing anything you said would just be taken as either sympathetic or made him feel like shit.

Chris cleared his throat.  “How about you?  Any wish?”

“It’s the same as you.  Wish I could find that too.  My problem is that most guys can’t handle a woman who would be the bread winner. They would want me to change my career or be a stay at home.  I worked really hard to get here.  I wouldn’t want to change it for the world.”

“I can see that. Sucks because there is nothing sexier than a woman in charge.”  He sent you a smirk that had you been standing, would have made you weak in the knees.

He continued to get to know you.  But when you looked at it said 9PM on your watch, you decided to call it a night. He walked you back to your room and rubbed his neck as you tried to open the door.  Finally successful, you turned to look at him.  The Adonis in front of you.  “Thank you for making this Christmas Eve ok, since we couldn’t be with our families.”

“It was my pleasure, YN.  See you in the morning for that ride?”

“Yes, of course.”  And you slid into your room.  You checked your phone, and you had a video message from your mom.

We miss you tonight, but we can’t see you tomorrow, your family said together.  All of them jammed into the video. 

You felt the tear fall. You missed your family but you knew, 12 more hours and you would be home. You changed into your silk pajama top and shorts and got ready to climb into bed, setting an alarm to get you up.  You let the emotions wash over you, your pillow now wet with your tears. A knock startled you and you knew it was Chris.  Without thinking, you opened the door.

And he was standing there like before.  Except there were only abs that you could see, the jeans hanging low with that damn red belt still looped around.  You swallowed and looked up at Chris.

“Are you ok?”

You nod.  “I just miss home,” you say.  “Its been a long year and I’m feeling more alone.” You wipe your tears away. “Did you need something Chris?”

“I needed to do this before I lost my nerve,” he said. He put his hand on your neck and pulled you in for a kiss that should have set you on fire.  His lips moved perfectly against yours, and he ran his tongue on your lips, asking for entrance.  You let him in, and you could taste the beer he was drinking.  You moaned and pressed yourself against him. He wrapped his arms around you, needing you closer.  Finally, you came up for air. He pressed his forehead to yours, not wanting to let go.

“Chris,” you whispered, “what are you doing?”

“You’re perfect, YN.  And you are everything I have been looking for.” He kissed you again gently.

Your mind swirled, still slightly inebriated from the martinis but now drunk on Chris. “I…”

“Spend the night with me sweetheart.  I wanna wake up on Christmas with you.”

Fourteen words.  Fourteen indications that this wasn’t a dream.  He was perfect, everything about him was perfect.

“Yes.”

Its all he needed.  He grabbed the key card you left on the dresser, picked you up behind your thighs and took you into his room.  He sat while you straddled him and kissed him again.

This has to be the craziest thing you ever done. 

A one-night stand with Chris Evans.

You let it go, not wanting to dwell on the fact you would only get this man for one night.  And he can sense that you are getting nervous or worried.  He pulled back, to look at your eyes, lust blown, void of makeup, even more beautiful than he can imagine.

“Be with me.”

It’s a ghost of a whisper you think you can hear before he attacks your neck with kisses and gentle bites.  You relish in the attention, never wanting it to end. You grind down into his lap and his growls, feeling your heat on his cock. He stands, lifting you at the same time and turning to lay you down on his bed.  The silk top slides slightly, giving him a peek at your hardening nipple.  He groaned and bit the nub through the silk, enjoying the moan he pulled from you.

“Be with me.”

You can’t focus on the words as he plays with your body, knowing exactly how to make you squirm and moan, as if he has known it for your entire life. You are his guitar, playing the notes to bring you out.  When he skated over your shorts on your clit, you cry out in ecstasy, the sensation already building in your core.

Chris kneels down at the edge of the bed and let’s his fingers play with the top of your shorts, looking up at you, waiting.  You nod, no words needed to give permission.  He kisses your belly button and then around your hip bones, softly, feather like as he slowly pulls down your shorts. His mouth moves to kiss your thighs, skipping where you now needed him.  "Chris," you whisper.

“So fakin’ beautiful,” you hear as he places the first kiss, you want to cry out again but you cover your mouth.  “Don’t hold back,” he says, “I want to hear you.” His tongue licked up your slit, taking no mercy. He needed taste you, feel you, make you his.

“Oh god, please.” You squirmed and Chris laid a heavy arm over your abdomen, pinning you to the mattress.  “Chris, please.”

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”  He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t want to.

“I need you.” You just had to be honest.  You wanted him.  But was it just for the night or forever?  Suddenly Boston was even more important.  Because Boston was home.  And he was at home.

He slipped up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself.  And you feel like you are hearing things.

“Be with me.”

No, its still a dream. Until…

“Come home with me.”

It’s the siren’s call you needed.  And then Chris thrusted into you, and you cried, tears of joy at the fullness, the pure, raw power he used to make you feel like you were on cloud nine.  He waited for you to be comfortable before you tilted your hips up and he moved. Slowly at first and then harder, with more passion than you have ever felt. He hid his face in your neck, listening to you sigh in his ear, you listen to the little grunts he gave.

He could feel you tighten around him.  Heaven, pure heaven.  You fit together like puzzle pieces.  He never wanted to leave.  “Baby, tell me you’re close?”

“So close, oh, so close.”

“Good.”  He sped up and nibbled on your neck.  That was your undoing.  You came with a long moan, quivering and pulsing around him.  It took two, three more thrusts before he came as well.  He slowed his movements, riding out the high.  He lifted up to see your blissful expression, matching his own.  And he says it louder…

“Be with me.”

You know you heard it this time.  What was he doing? “Chris?”

“I found you and I don’t want to let go.  Come home with me.” He gave little Eskimo kisses, causing you to giggle. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Logic comes to your brain. “I live in Chicago.”

“And I have a feeling you’ll nail your audition for Boston.  If not,” he sighed, “I guess I need a better coat for Chicago.”

“Chicago?”

“Because you’re right.  Home is where your family is.  But right now, home is also where you are. I don’t want you to change who you are.  Because I’m falling for the girl who is who she is.”

You start to get up; the sudden declaration makes you nervous.  How could someone fall so hard so fast?  You reach for your clothes. But it hits you. He’s everything you ever wanted.  He didn’t want to change you, just adapt with you. And it makes you ache. Because home is where he is.  You turn to face him, seeing his face look sad at the thought of you leaving.  But you lean in and press a kiss to his nose, causing him to smile. “I’m not saying that I would change my world for you, I’m just changing my perspective. But maybe we could give us a chance.”

He smiles and kisses you, bring you back down to the bed.  The clock hits midnight.  Its still like a Christmas movie, finding love on Christmas.

The morning comes too quickly, waking in each other’s arms. You and Chris head back to the airport, holding hands.

What a difference 18 hours makes.

Chris talks to the attendant and gets you seated together in first class.  It’s a quick flight, just over two hours. But he never let’s go, afraid you’ll disappear.  As the plane begins to land at snowy Logan International, he turns to you.  “Please don’t leave me.”

You cup his cheek and smile.  “Home… is wherever you are.” You kiss him gently.  “Ready to meet my dad?”

He leans into your warmth.  “Ready to meet Scott?” He kisses your palm as you nod. And he looks into your eyes. “I finally found my home… with you.”

[write-and-buried]

The Thirteenth Step

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary; The first time you meet Frankie, he trades you Xanax for cocaine Word Count; ~2.2k Content & Warnings; DEAD DOVE. DO NOT EAT. heavy drug use, illicit drug use, graphic description of an overdose, Reader & Frankie are in active addiction, co-dependent relationship, explicit sexual content, heavy angst, takes place before TF, ambiguous, unsatisfying ending. Author Note; I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while. It's extremely angsty, and I feel the need to stress that if you are at all triggered by the content listed above, skip this work and i'll see you on the next one

This work contains explicit adult content and is intended for audiences over the age of eighteen. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older, have read the content and warnings and wish to proceed

The first time you meet Frankie, he trades you Xanax for cocaine. You trade pills for powder in the corner of a Wal-Mart parking lot and try not to blurt out an explanation of why you’re there. He doesn’t ask, you don’t offer. But you see him around, cap pulled low over his hair, curling over his ears.

He’s at the bar you frequent, laughing loudly with a group of just as rowdy men. They don’t notice him slipping to the bathroom, returning with eyes rimmed red. Nobody notices you slip two more beneath your tongue and feel the acrid taste dissolve into a warmth across your skin.

He catches up to you in the carpark, asks if he can drive you home. It’s an offer you refuse, you give him a knowing look when he asks why. The way he scrubs a hand across his jaw makes your chest ache. Instead, he buys you a cab, crawls in beside you and never leaves.

It’s easy, easier than you would have thought, to have him near you. He’s so soft, his voice so low and soothing it reminds you of the pills you spend half your paycheck on, just as addicting as the smile that creases the corner of his eyes. He makes you laugh until it hurts, that wicked sense of humor delivered almost deadpan. You like the way he looks at you when your laughing, like the sun lit his face in the winter.

He likes that you don’t judge him. That there are mirrors and razors on your coffee table, and you don’t say anything. He smokes a joint with you before you go to bed. You suppose you are friends. A part of you wonders if it’s just because you’re both addicted. A bigger part knows it’s because you won’t ask him why.

He tells you.

It takes too many lines, so many that he can’t sit still and you’re watching him through a hazy cloud of Valium and Xanax and something that might have been Oxy. You’re past the pride of calling yourself a junkie. The claws are in to deep now, mornings too shaky, stomach rolling like the tide as he explains.

It chases the nightmares for him. It’s a shield against the memory of bullets, the click of razor on mirror the sound of weapons dropping useless to the desert floor. It’s the quiet roar of a helicopter, beating heavy inside his head. It’s making his heart race in a way he can control, because his life is out of control, and this is something he has power over.

That makes you laugh, syrup and slow as you hold your hand out to him. Explain that none of it is in your control, none of it is in his. You pull him into an embrace, let his head rest on your shoulder as you try and gift him some of the quiet the pills have gifted you.

You gain weight, then lose it. He becomes wiry muscle and paper skin. You still think he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. You’re already ignoring calls from friends and family when he starts to copy you, switching his phone to silent when he sees the name Miller or Garcia on the screen. He silences them to do another line, to stay in this bubble with you.

It’s the worst kind of day when it turns. You’re both dry, barely coping, smoking weed and staying quiet, each locked in your own misery as you watch something neither of you can focus on, a nature documentary, maybe. Something that’s supposed to soothe your itching skin, calm his shaking nerves, make you both feel like you can lie about how deep you’re in a little longer.

He says it’s for work, you tell yourself it’s just to function, that the active prescription is enough of a justification for buying Oxy off the street, picking up bags of cocaine for him at the same time. Your dealer gives you a two-for-one special and that’s something that makes you both laugh over day old pizza.

You watch the curve of his chest instead of the tv. Watch the way he breathes through the ache in his skin and realize he’s never gotten angry with you. It’s been weeks of this now, some kind of hazy cloud of companionship, of take-out and wrapping yourself inside a nest with someone who wouldn’t judge you. He’s never tried anything, sleeping on your couch when he crashes, calling a cab home. He’s your friend. He’s your friend in the same fucked up mess you’re in and for that you love him.

It feels like the abyss is getting closer. Like one of these days, you’ll have to admit you have a problem. That you need help. But there’s still food in your belly, there’s still money in your bank account, and you wonder from time to time what you’ll do when those both run empty. If that hunger will come close to comparing to what you’re feeling right now.

He’s surprised when you kiss him. His eyebrows raise to disappear beneath the hat you’ve never seen him without. You straddle his waist without thinking as his hands move to your hips. Its empty pizza boxes being kicked to the floor, the soft drone of a voice telling you about the ocean as soundtrack as you take off his shirt, he takes off your pants, his hat knocked loose so you can finger the curls of his hair.

It's fast and messy and matches the chaos you feel inside your skin, spit slicked fingers opening you for him, the blunt press of his hard cock inside you, a desperate mewl escaping your lips as he bites your neck with a groan. He finds the time to clasp your hands together, squeeze your knuckles in a rhythm that matches the insect wings of your lungs and makes you shatter around him. Follows you into oblivion with a hushed cry of your name.

Distraction, that’s what you call it. When you’re both bored or both low or both too fucked up to know better. You wake up cradled in his arms more often than not now. You’re high more often than your sober now. So is he.

You lose your job first. A random drug test that makes your cheeks pink when you realize it’s not that random. That they know, and this is their reason. You’re out without an offer of help, not that you would have accepted it.

You fuck Frankie in the back of his truck in that same Wal-Mart you met him. It sends shivers up your spine; makes you feel some kind of alive.

It takes eight weeks for it to change again. You’re living in rooms with blacked out windows. Your house smells fetid, like rotting from the inside. You’re half convinced that smell is your soul, blacked out and wasting away. You’re not willing to face it yet.

Frankie maintains your supply. He stretches his paycheck to cover both of you and a large pizza most nights and you sit on your couch and watch TV in some fucked up painting of romance. You love him. It’s easier and simpler than you would have thought to admit it. That his smile is a source of comfort, his huffed breathing at your back a safety blanket. That he’s warm and strong and everything you were looking for in little white pills.

That he fills gaps you were already trying to plug with prescriptions long before you knew him. You keep that part a secret. You whisper it to him when he falls asleep, his body winning out over chemicals for the first time in days, sweaty on your sheets as he paws for you in dreams.

It’s toxic. You can’t untangle him from the fantasy life you’ve created. Technicolor wonderings of a future together, kids and a white picket fence that’s not overgrown, flowers blooming in the spring that he would pick, and you would scold, and you’d laugh anyway as he tucked one behind your ear.

You’re drowning in it, drowning in the scent of him. Motor oil and sugar free gum and sweet words he whispers into your neck. He says them in the morning. He doesn’t say them when you’re high. When you ask him, he says it’s because it means more sober. It’s the first hint you get he feels it too.

It’s seven months and everything gets worse. It’s night shift and you miss him, so you keep taking pills to cope with the loneliness until everything goes white at the edges. He shakes you conscious in a puddle of vomit, stale bread and undigested pills sticky on your cheek. He gets you in the shower and trembles as he holds you. The clean sheets on the bed are a band aid.

He makes lazy, slow love to you in the days coming, hands cradling your hips like you’re something precious, like you have this luxury, like you’re not both taming a snarling beast in your gut that’s ripping you open from the inside. He kisses you slow, syrup thick words on his tongue as he tells you how much he loves you.

“You’re the only good thing in my life” he whispers into your neck.

There’s pills and liquor on the nightstand. The room smells like weed and sex and the rot of human misery.

You leave two days later. He understands. Frankie understands when you cut contact, sitting in a white bedroom of a clinic your sister got you into. But you think about him enough that it’s like needles in your skin. Like each session is a love letter written just for him. That you’re going to get better, and he’s going to get better and you’re doing it for each other, because Frankie deserves the best of you.

It takes months. Its painful, like flaying bits of skin. But those little chips of plastic that show your progress start to mean more than him. He feels like a dream now, like something you imagined. You move out of state. You find a new job; you go to meetings. When that beast scratches at your insides, you have people you can call. And you call them.

You’d call it easy, but it isn’t. Each day feels like a battle, but you’re winning most of the time.

Its eighteen months before you head home. The house you own has changed renters; you need to clean it out. The town feels itchy under your skin, like it’s watching you. You drive past the Wal-Mart with white knuckles on the steering wheel and wonder if this town is still in the Opioid death grip. You wonder how you were possibly one of the lucky ones.

You stay in a shitty motel. It takes you a day and a phone call before you seek them out, the notices tacked on a public library corkboard, advertising the meeting taking place at a community center. They always smell like the same cheap coffee and sugary doughnuts and the minute you walk in you feel better. There’s nobody here that will judge you.

You leave the meeting in better spirits, a leash on your beast for the time being and debate walking to the all-night pizza place a few blocks down. You used to order from there with Frankie, the grease making your lips slippery when he kissed you breathless.

“Hey sunshine” You jump.

He looks better than you’ve ever seen him. Thicker and stronger, his beard grown in patchy, his hair long enough to curl around his ears, begging to be tucked away. The word unlocks a memory of a sober Sunday, laying in your backyard in summer, itchy from the grass with him, stains on both your knees.

“Hey”

He gives you a smile that makes your insides melt. It makes your skin hum in a way pills didn’t, its kinder, its edges rounder and softer. He shows you his chip as he walks with you to the pizza place. He got a year after you did. His cheeks pink when he shows you a photo of the fat cheeked baby in his wallet, he thumbs its edge with a grin.

He looks happy, he sounds happy. He tells you half a story about the guys whose calls he used to ignore and your heart sings for him. He’s still got that tinge of sadness. It makes you want to kiss him.

You share a slice of pepperoni, and you tell him about your new job. You both skirt the eight months neither of you remember well enough. It’s still easy, it’s still familiar. It takes you half an hour to work up the courage to ask him, knowing the answers going to hurt.

“Frankie? Was it real?”

He sucks a lip between his teeth and nods. Scratches the back of his neck and meets your eyes.

“Course it was, sunshine. Chasing you and chasing high became the same thing after a while. Woulda sold my soul to the devil just to make you laugh”

“Didn’t you?” you ask.

Frankie doesn’t answer.

[botnasty]

Always on my Mind

Dark!Nomad!Steve X F!Reader

Summary: Even if you didn’t know it, you were his. Whether you like it or not.

Words: ~1,5k words

Warnings: Dark thoughts, dark intention, misogyny, smut(male masturbation). It’s dark people. Mention of pregnancy (but reader isn’t)

Note: All mistakes are mine. And also don’t be shy, come say hi . My request are open, so if you have any suggestions or ideas, I’m open to hear them.

I also have an idea for a part two. Let me know if you want me to do it.

Main Masterlist 

Marvel Masterlist

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

[Part Two]

Steve was slowly losing his mind. Little by little all of his thoughts went from his past choice that led him to hiding from all the government in the word to just you. You were in his mind always, 24/7 and you didn’t even know it. Hell, you only talked to him once and it was to ask him about his coffee order.

Steve could still remember the smile you had on your face. No… you definitely knew him. You smiled at him so sweetly and your eyes had a little sparkle in them. You even made his drink perfectly. No… You definitely knew him and wanted him to know you. You wanted him to remember you, he was sure of that. 

Even watching you now, serving all those random people, you don’t have the same expression as you had with him. You wanted him, he had no doubt about that. Damn were you mesmerizing. Everything about you was perfect. It was like you were made for him. An angel sent for him after all the good deeds he had done to this planet. You were his and he would make sure of that.

He could see as clear as day. You and him are living in a two story house with white picket fence. Him coming back from a mission to your pregnant self. Steve had to stop himself from imagining you barefoot and pregnant or else he was sure he would get hard on the spot. He was certain you would be the perfect housewife, greeting him each day with a pink apron and food ready at the table.

A shout is what broke Steve out of his fantasy. He looked back inside the coffee shop to see a customer yelling at you about his drink. Steve saw red when your smile started to vanish, your face contorting into a mix of sadness and annoyance. 

Steve fixed his cap and walked right into the building. “You better remake me that drink and give me a discount on my next purchase. I especially told you I wanted two pumps of vanilla! Not one, not three, two!” Screamed the customer slamming the drink on the counter. Everyone in the coffee shop was looking at the scene, all shocked by the outburst.

“Ma’am.” You said calmly which made Steve so proud of you. Even in a stressful situation you were able to keep your calm. You would be the perfect mother for his future children. “I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience. I can remake that drink for you, but I cannot give you that discount. It’s not in our customer policie to do that, unfortunately. I can only remake your drink.”

The customer kept on shaking his head, disagreeing with everything you said. “You don’t understand! The customer is always ri–” 

Before the person could finish, Steve intervened. No one gets to yell at his future precious little wife without any consequences. “Don’t you have better things to do than yell at someone half your age? Someone who isn’t paid enough to endure your entitled self?”

The customer turned around, his mouth open ready to say whatever they wanted to say, when they froze on the spot, eyes wide. That when Steve knew he made a big mistake putting his attention to himself, but for you, he would do it in a heartbeat. You were his. His to protect and his to cherish. Even from afar.

For now. 

“Captain America?” The person stuttered and everyone in the shop turned towards him. Some people took out their phone to either records or take pictures.

“Fuck…” Steve muttered under his breath. He glanced at you, shot you a smile and immediately left the building. 

Steve wanted to slap himself. Because of what he did the day prior, he now had to leave the country to go far away. Be far away from you.

That wasn’t part of the plan. He had ruined everything for him. 

He had to see you. One last time before going. Of course, he was gonna come back when everything was going to be okay so he can finally be with you. His heart broke at the thought of being so far away from you. You were everything for him, always on his mind. He was gonna miss following you from the coffee shop to your home. He was gonna miss all the times he could kinda see your silhouette as you went out of the shower. 

Steve couldn't even remember the number of times he masturbated just looking at it. 

God, he was gonna miss you so much and he was sure you were gonna miss him too. That’s why he decided to go by your house and give you a little gift. 

Steve knew you weren’t home right now, He knew your routine by heart now. So he knew that if he was to slide inside your home through your windows, you wouldn’t even know it. Your home was really cosy, a little small for his liking but still very much you. “Look at you…” He smiled at a picture of you on your wall with your friends. You looked so happy.

“Now… where is your bedroom?” He walked, opened one door and found your bathroom. He got instantly hard when he noticed he could faintly smell your body wash. Vanilla… God he could get lost in that smell. 

He wanted so badly to just nuzzle your neck and your hair. Smell you all over. Especially what was in between those thighs of yours. He was sure your cunt smelled like heaven and tasted it too.

He closed the door and opened another one down a hallway. He smiled when he recognized the room. He was finally where he wanted to be. He closed the door behind him and looked around. 

He looked on top of your dresser and frowned when he found a pic of you and some random guy he’s never seen before. He clenched his hands. That should be him in the picture. Him holding you around your waist while you look up to him with that beautiful smile of yours. He was starting to feel more and more angry every second he looked at him.

How dare you let someone other than him hold you?

He harshly flopped the picture so he wouldn’t look at it anymore and took a deep breath. “It’s okay. She just has to experience little boys before going to a real man. It’s okay.” He kept repeating himself.

He then opened the top drawer and groaned when he saw what was in it. It was all of your panties. “Fuck me…” His mood soothed down. He took a pink one with his finger, brought it to his nose and inhaled.

He moaned when he could still smell a faint smell of your pussy. “ Fuck, baby. Your smell.” It made him want to lick your panties just to see if he could get a taste. He was rock hard at this moment. He wanted nothing more than just to take them with him… and he did.

He rummaged a little bit more into the drawer when his hand found something he knew for a fact wasn’t panties. He pulled it out. “You naughty baby…” It was your vibrator. Now, Steve couldn’t help himself.

He unbuckled his belt and took out his cock. He was arching to relieve himself. He was a deep shade of red and the tip was already leaking creamy pre-cum. He wrapped your panty around cock and slid up and down. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna miss you.” 

He brought the vibrator to his nose and smelled it. He wished it was your pussy instead. God, the thing he would do to you. He would first fuck your cunt with his tongue and finger. Make you cum at least three times, making you beg for more before really fucking you hard on his cock.

He wrapped his hand tighter around his cock, making things even more pleasurable. And, with the friction your panties brought, it made it even harder for him to not cum immediately. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He muttered as he imagined you in many scenarios. You on your knee milking his cock and sucking his balls. You on your back, your leg around his waist as you let him fill you with cum. You on your hands and knees, drooling like a bitch in heat as he pushed his cock into you deeper and deeper. 

Steve groaned loudly as he came on your panties, painting them with seed, marking them with him.“That’s right, baby. Take my cum. Let me fill you up.” Steve let out a breath as he relaxed. He can't wait to do all of this with you. 

Steve looked at his watch. “Oh, fuck…”. You were about to come home soon. He placed your panties back with the rest and took a blue one as a souvenir that he tucked in his pocket and placed the vibrator back into its place.

He hastily tucked his cock back in his pants and closed the drawer. He went out of your bedroom and rushed to the window, but not without stopping to look at your picture once again. “Soon, my love.” He kissed two of his fingers and placed them on your face.

“Really soon you’ll be all mine.”

Note: Thank you so much for reading!

Please feel free to reblog and tell me what you think. It’s always appreciated!

[serendipitous-magic]

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

_-_

2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

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4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

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5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

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6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

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7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

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8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

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9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

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10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

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11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery. 

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12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

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13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

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14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

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15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

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16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story. 

It also informs character behavior and personality. 

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

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I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.