#Like drive it to the ground and kill it. Idk man

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Richie X Reader: A scary good time

a/n: i have not seen the exorcist so idk if it's actually scary or not 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: fluff, kissing, movie date cliches, cuteness, Richie being a little self conscious, mutual pinning, happy/cute ending, no use of y/n

Word count: 2.8K

“Whatcha doing Sunday?”

You were walking down the street, Richie by your side. The two of you had just come from The Bear. He’d offered to drive you home, but you gave him a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it. I live just a couple blocks from here. It’s like a ten-minute walk.”

“Oh. I never knew that.”

You shrugged.

“I never told you.”

Richie nodded, glancing at his watch and then up at the sky before meeting your eyes again.

“Well, it’s late. Let me at least walk you home. It’s not safe being alone at night.”

You thought about telling him that you’d been doing this same walk since you started working at The Bear earlier this year. That you’d be fine. But he was clearly trying to be a gentleman—and you wanted to soak up as much alone time with Richie as you could. So that’s how you found yourself in your current situation.

 “This Sunday?”

You nodded, not bothering to look at him as he spoke.

 “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Tiff has Eva this weekend. Frank’s taking her to the zoo or some shit.”

 “That sounds nice. I bet she’ll love it.”

 “Yeah, I think so too. But yeah—no plans for me, I guess. How about you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. There it was. The opening you’d been waiting for. The truth was, you’d started this whole conversation just to figure out if Richie would be free this Sunday. Because you wanted to invite him to the movies. But you didn’t want it to sound like you’d been planning the conversation out for a week.

 “I was thinking of going to the movie theater.” You finally turned to look at him as you spoke.

Richie was staring at the ground as you walked. You let yourself admire his side profile for a second before continuing.

“Actually, I saw that that director you like—the…” You snapped your fingers like you were trying to remember the name. Total exaggeration. You knew it by heart by now.

“William Friedkin?”

“Yeah, him!”

You kicked a stone out of your path.

“So anyway, they’re gonna be replaying a movie of his at the theater this week. And I’ve never seen any of his stuff, so I was thinking of going. Actually—"

Richie stopped walking, and you had to stop too. You looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Hold on. You’ve never seen a William Friedkin movie?”

 You shook your head.

 “Not even The Exorcist.”

You gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged.

“Oh, well then, you have to go. The man’s a genius.”

Oh, we got a live one, boys.

 “Yeah, that was… actually what I was gonna ask you.” 

You could hear yourself starting to ramble. You were feeling more self-conscious with every word that left your mouth. But you’d made it this far, and you weren’t about to chicken out. Not when you were so close.

“I was wondering if you’d wanna come with me.”

Richie looked at you, a little surprised. You fought back the urge to shrink into yourself. Chill out. Let him answer first.

 “You wanna go to the movies this Sunday. With me?”

“Yeah, I mean—I think it could be fun.” You shrugged. “Plus, like you said, you didn’t have any plans.”

He didn’t say anything right away, and for a second you wondered if you’d come on too strong.

 “Consider it an opportunity to enlighten someone else on the joys of William… what’s his last name again?”

Okay, maybe you were laying it on a little thick. But Richie smiled at that, and it made it all worth it.

 “Friedkin,” he said, before turning his gaze back to the ground.

You walked in silence for about two minutes. It was starting to kill you. The waiting. You were just about to say something like or don’t, whatever, it was a dumb question, never mind—when Richie finally spoke.

“What time were you thinking?”

The smile that spread across your face could’ve lit up a whole restaurant.

You were so giddy that you almost passed your own building. Luckily, you realized before it was too late. It was a little awkward when you abruptly stopped and turned around, but Richie followed without question. And when you finally stood in front of your door and he gave you a slightly puzzled look, all you could say was,

“Guess I got caught up in the conversation. Didn’t even realize we were already here.”

Richie had just given you a soft smile.

He scratched the back of his neck and glanced up at your building like it was suddenly very interesting. The truth was that he was too nervous to look at you head on. And he was also trying to remember what your building looked like. In case he had to come back. Not that he was assuming, of course.

 “Well,” you said, rocking slightly on your heels, “guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yeah. Sunday,” he echoed. Then he paused. “I’ll, uh—I’ll pick you up or whatever. If that’s cool.”

“Yeah. That’s cool.”

There was a silence that stretched just a few seconds too long. Richie nodded like he was trying to wrap the moment up, then gave you a little two-finger salute. “Alright. G’night.”

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

He waited until you’d closed the door behind you before he left. The whole way back to his car, he couldn’t stop overanalyzing the entire exchange. He got in, turned the engine on, and waited for it to heat up. He repeated his two-finger salute to himself, making a face like he was cringing, before whispering,

 “Get it together, man. Don’t be a fucking loser.”

You’d been ready for an hour already, anxiety causing you to overestimate how long it would take. You paced around the apartment, glancing at the clock every so often. Oh, what had you gotten yourself into? When your phone buzzed with Richie’s “On my way” text, you raced across the room to get it, moving so fast you almost felt out of breath.

You were sitting on the steps when his car pulled in. You checked your watch—punctual, another thing to add to the list of qualities Richie had. He leaned across the passenger seat to unlock the door and gave you a lopsided grin when you slid in.

 “Ready to get educated on Friedkin?” he teased, his voice a mix of nerves and something softer you couldn’t quite place.

You laughed, trying to keep it cool, but your cheeks warmed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

After you got your tickets sorted, you moved over to the snack tables. Both of you wanted popcorn, but neither thought they could manage to eat a whole bucket alone, so you opted to share one. The theater was mostly empty, which surprised you a bit. The movie was The Exorcist, and even though you’d never seen it, you knew it was pretty popular, so you had expected a bigger crowd. Not that you were complaining—you liked the idea of being alone with Richie without prying eyes.

You found your seats near the middle, a perfect spot with a good view but not too close. Richie settled beside you, and when you both reached for the popcorn at the same time, your fingers brushed lightly. You felt a jolt of warmth shoot up your arm and tried to hide the grin threatening to break free.

“Sorry,” Richie said quietly, his eyes flicking to yours with a shy smile.

“No worries,” you whispered back, your heart still fluttering.

As the lights dimmed and the previews began, you scooted just a little closer to Richie, the hum of the projector filling the silence between you. The first few minutes of the movie were slow, atmospheric, building tension, and you could feel it creeping under your skin.

Then, a sudden, eerie scene hit, and you jumped—maybe a little more than you wanted to admit. You buried your face in Richie’s neck before you could stop yourself. He stiffened for a moment, glancing down at you. When he saw you peeking out from between your hands, he couldn’t help but let his body relax, a small smile gracing his features.

When you finally came out of your hiding spot, you didn’t move away, opting to let your head settle on his shoulder for the rest of the movie. Richie wondered if you could hear how his heart was pounding. But when the movie ended and the credits rolled and you finally raised your head off his shoulder, Richie couldn’t help but wish the movie had lasted longer.

The night outside was a cold contrast to the stuffy theater room. You’d been worried that as soon as you got out, Richie would offer you a lift home and the night would be over before it had even really begun. Because sure, you’d invited him to the movies, but you didn’t really want to stop there.

Fortunately for you, Richie glanced at his car, then turned back to look at you. And to your surprise, he asked,

“I’m starving. There’s a good restaurant around the corner. You wanna grab something to eat?”

 “Yeah, sure.”

It was an Italian restaurant—because, of course, it was. This was Richie, after all. But it was a nice place, and the food was amazing. You eyed the other guests as you ate. Most of them were couples. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Would this be the place Richie would think of for a first date or an anniversary?

You were pulled away from your thoughts by Richie’s voice.

 “So… what’d you think?”

You smiled, glancing around the cozy restaurant, the soft lighting making everything feel warm and intimate.

 “Honestly? I really like it here. It’s cute, and the food’s amazing. Definitely a good call.”

 Richie’s cheeks flushed slightly, a small, sheepish grin tugging at his lips.  “Oh—uh, I was actually asking about the movie.”

You blinked, then laughed softly.

“Oh! Well, I liked the movie too. Scary as hell, but definitely worth it.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Glad you liked the place, though. It’s one of my favorites.”

“You’ve got good taste, Richie.” You took a sip of water. “Not that I ever doubted it, of course. I’ve seen your flower arrangements.”

Richie blinked, caught off guard by your compliment. He smiled as you took another bite of your food.

 “Sugar hates them.”

“Because they’re expensive. Not because they’re ugly.”

He pointed his fork at you, as if to say, “Touché.”

“But hey, at least I’m good at something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like spending money on flowers?”

 “Hey,” he said, mock-defensive, “there’s an art to it.”

You laughed, the easy banter making the whole night feel even more comfortable. Silence took over the table for a small moment.

“You’re good at a lot of things, Richie—not just flowers.”

Richie sighed, placing his glass down.

“Doesn’t always feel like it.”

He gave you a half smile, causing you to frown a little. You moved your hand across the table, placing it on top of his. Richie stared at your hand.

 “Hey.”

He raised his eyes to meet yours. The expression on your face nearly took his breath away. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t shame. It was worry. Genuine worry.

Richie swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. He gave you a small grin—a quiet way of saying “thanks.”

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart aching for him.

 For a moment, the noise of the restaurant faded away, and it was just the two of you.

On the walk back to Richie’s car, you tried to rack your brain for ways to make this drive last a little longer. Just a bit more time with Richie. Was that too much to ask? Then you remembered an old tradition you had with your parents. Some people drove around to look at Christmas lights—it was too early for that—but one thing people might be decorating for was Halloween. You offered your idea to Richie, who was more than eager to accept.

You drove around for a while, heading toward the neighborhoods where you knew the houses were bigger—and, as a result, the decorations were more elaborate. Eventually, you made your way back toward the areas around The Bear and your building. The car hummed softly beneath you as the two of you shared smiles and quiet conversation, the night stretching gently ahead.

Every so often, you found yourself glancing down at Richie’s hand on the gear shift and wondering—if the two of you were something more—would his hand be resting against your thigh instead? The thought made your stomach flutter.

You let out a soft yawn just as Richie turned onto your street.

Richie pulled up in front of your building, easing the car into park. For a moment, neither of you moved.

“Well,” he said quietly, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, “guess this is your stop.”

You smiled, unbuckling your seatbelt but not reaching for the door just yet. “Thanks for tonight.”

 “No—thank you. I had a good time. Like, really good.”

You nodded, then laughed softly under your breath. “I was kinda nervous about asking you. Thought maybe I came off weird.”

Richie turned slightly in his seat to face you. “You didn’t. I was just… surprised. In a good way.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, exactly—but it was heavy. Weighed with unspoken words. You looked down at your lap, then back up at him.

“So, um… I’ll see you at work?”

 Richie gave a little smile, but his eyes flicked to your mouth for just a second too long.

 “Yeah. I mean—unless… you wanna hang out again before that.”

 Your heart jumped. “I’d like that.”

You reached for the door handle, slowly, like giving him one last chance to say something—do something. You stepped out, and Richie followed, rounding the car to walk you to your door. The air between you felt electric now, buzzing with something unspoken. You stopped on your front step and turned to face him.

“Guess this is goodnight,” you said, your voice quieter than before.

“Yeah. Right,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, then letting his hand drop. “Goodnight.”

Neither of you moved.

Your eyes met his. You didn’t know who leaned in first. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was both of you at once—like you’d been orbiting this moment all night, and now gravity had finally pulled you in.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t perfect. It was soft and uncertain and full of that dizzy, heart-in-throat kind of tenderness. Richie’s hand brushed your cheek as he deepened the kiss just slightly, like he couldn’t help himself. When you finally pulled apart, you stayed close, foreheads nearly touching.

“Well, that was… something,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him again. Richie accepted your kiss, smiling against your mouth. The smile didn’t disappear when you pulled away. You took a step back, grinning softly, your hand still holding Richie’s.

“Well, I have to go to bed.”

“Is that an invitation?”

You laughed, which only made Richie smile wider.

“Not just yet, Jerimovich.” You made your way up the stairs, pausing at the door before glancing back over your shoulder. “But I’ll think about it.”

Richie gave you the biggest grin. You offered a small wave before closing the door behind you. He stood there for a while, just staring at the door, then finally turned and made his way to the car, heart full, heading home.

 Things at work weren’t exactly different after that night…but they kind of were.

Richie still showed up loud, still made a mess, still acted like he owned the place. You still rolled your eyes when he did, still gave him shit, still worked your ass off just the same.

But now, there were glances. Small smiles passed over stainless steel counters. A brush of hands when handing over plates—things like that.

You were plating something by the pass when Richie said something low under his breath that made you laugh. Really laugh. It was nothing, probably stupid. But you leaned into his shoulder for a second, giggling like you couldn’t help it.

Carmen clocked it from the other side of the kitchen. He squinted, confused, and turned toward Tina.

 “What the fuck is going on with those two?”

Tina didn’t even look up. She just smirked, sprinkled a little parsley over a finished plate, and said, “They’re in love, Jeff.”

Carmy blinked. “Since when?”

Tina finally looked over at you and Richie, who were still laughing like the rest of the world had faded out.

Tina shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Since before either of them knew it. You’re just late.”

Carmy shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he turned back to the walk-in. But even he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

[superbpiratesandwich]

Walker is a cuddler after doing the nasty. Nothing can convince me otherwise

No because he’d totally be obsessed with holding you while youre both sweat and covered in questionable fluids (who said that?? [twas me, i need help]) 

tags: john walker x fem!reader, smut, body worship, body description, AFAB reader, a whisper of angst (because im me and apparently i hate happiness i guess), talk of body insecurity. 

a/n: so like halfway through this i had a thought of him being more rough but i just did it with the soft side of him because I NEED SOFT LOVE ALRIGHT??? Plus with the prompt, idk if you want me to redo this/upload another one of him being rough I definitely can! this is my first time writing smut CLAP FOR ME, pretty please, anyways all criticism is welcome! ENJOY YOU CUTIES! 

1k words 

Before the two of you started officially dating. Using the term ‘officially’ loosely. He was always a touchy person, but not in an obvious way. Not in a ‘let me hold your hand while we walk’ way more so in a ‘I'm going to hover my hand RIGHT next to yours and let my pinky graze your pinky but if you try to hold my hand, I'm going to kill you’. The man has issues, okay? Being in the military, watching your best friend die, getting your title stripped from you, AND getting divorced will do that to you. 

When you two started dating, boy oh boy did he let the flood gates open. When he realized he could just touch you (with your consent of course) and he felt that first skin to skin, the man was hooked. Holding your hand like you are his lifeline, a hand on your waist as he passes by you in the kitchen, when he's driving, even on a stake out, he has a hand on your thigh. That has been a topic of many mission briefings: Walker’s pda issue with you. Bucky claims it’s ‘distracting’ Walker when the two of you hold hands as you stand side by side in the elevator. 

He’s a touchy guy, he needs that textile feeling of your skin, hair, clothing, even just feeling your soft breaths on his shoulder as you hug, it all grounds him. He needs to know you're there; you're not just another dream that's going to slip away from him.  

When the two of you have sex, especially when he’s in a needy mood, he is the epitome of a devoted worshipper. 

His care-worn palms slowly moving over your arms as he kisses you, nose slotting next to yours, lips moving in tandem against your mouth. Slowly undressing you like a present he’s been dying to unwrap, and dammit if it doesn’t feel like a gift every time you let him see you naked.  

He never knows where to look, he’ll just sit between your legs, back on his haunches, staring down at your body. Of course, his hands are right on your stomach, but he could care less about the pudge there, or the way your breasts sit when they're not in a bra. The man just wants to devote himself to you.  

He takes his time, his lips moving over every inch of you he can get to, not letting a single inch left un-worshipped. His eyes look up into yours as he moves his mouth over your breasts, making sure you see how much he loves every patch of skin he sees on you.  

“Love you so much honey, y’have no idea,” His voice carries that slight southern accent you love so much.  

When you first had sex, you didn't want to look down at him, your eyes on the ceiling as you tried to not seem too insecure, but when his hand came up to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him? Now you couldn't look away.  

John is a caring guy, so of course he’s between your thighs before you can even ask properly, his tongue moving in slow circles. He loves to mumble praise, even when his mouth is busy on you, “So pretty, honey, you’re my pretty girl, so so pretty,” and only after you’ve came on his tongue is he moving back up your frame. He kisses his way back up to your mouth, making sure to press his tongue into your open lips, your release mixing with his spit and your own on your tongue. All of it makes him feel like he’s on top of the world, getting to have you like this, all pretty and pliant.  

And when he gets inside of you? The man has his arms wrapped around you, bear hugging you to his chest, like he can’t even stand the idea of letting you go. His hips move slow and deep, pressing closer to you with every thrust. His cheek presses against yours; the sweat-damp skin of your chest doesn’t bother him in the slightest. If anything, it makes him more aware of how close you are to him.  

His grunts and mumbled praise get louder in your ear and more intelligible as he gets closer, he loves cumming at the same time as you. It adds to the feeling of being close to you. So, he’s constantly checking in as he gets closer to the edge, “Honey, please- fuck- please tell me you're close, fuck- feel so good around me,” When you both cum, he could break you with how tight he holds on to you, breathing heavily in your ear as his entire being tenses. 

You’re both sticky, his and your release sliding down your thighs, ruining his sheets. You hold him close, your legs wrapped around his waist, hand in his hair, running through the sweaty strands. He just breathes into your shoulder, trying to not let his full weight crush you, his hands splaying on your hips.  

“Baby...” you mutter the pet name softly into his ear, nose running along the shell of it.  

He just grunts in response, not taking his head off your shoulder.  

“John, baby, we should shower and change the sheets.” 

It's like you just asked him to throw himself off the balcony of the tower. He almost whines into your shoulder, shaking his head.  

“The sheets are gonna stain baby,” you laugh softly, your lips pressing against his ear. 

You feel him drag himself out of you, but he doesn't get up for a moment. Instead, he wraps his arms back around you, moving so he's on his side, his head pressed in your neck. 

“Just let me hold you, please” 

John Walker doesn't say please, unless it's for you to hold him. 

You nod, despite being sticky, despite being sweaty, you hold the super soldier for as long as he wants. Because he needs you, not even in a sexual way, he just needs to know youre there and that you won't leave him.  

[jammydodger3579]

Young Lust

Summary: Reader is an ex-widow. She escaped with Yelena and lives at the Avengers compound, though she denies being one. The X-men have been working with the Avengers quite closely lately. (I plan on making this a series so that's all the context you get for now hehe)

A/N: so this is the first piece I've put out in a long time so pls be kind, feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive. idk when I'll post the second chapter so enjoy this for now. Also couldn't stop listening to Young Lust by Pink Floyd and Closer by Nine Inch Nails while writing this iykyk ;)

18+, for mature audiences only.

1000+ word count.

Warnings: smut, p/v sex. cursing? I'm really bad at writing smut so apologies

It wasn’t the first time they’d met, it was just the first time he’d noticed her. Her hair, messily curled. Her makeup, strikingly bold. It suits her. Y/N noticed him too. Drink in hand, leaning against the kitchen island. He seems to have put effort into his appearance for this night. His hair was done, his beard freshly shaven. He even wore his nicest jeans and jacket. Y/N was half listening to a conversation between Kitty and Yelena. Something about how Kitty had come to be at the mansion. They all got along, especially since the Avengers, and their associates like Y/N and Yelena, wanted to bridge the gap between them and the X-men.

Professor Xavier had come to the compound around 3 months ago to discuss with Stark the future of the X-men and how they should all work together. They were practically already neighbours, Stark remarked, the Avengers compound being only a 20-minute drive from the school. Logan had visited that day, sparking up a conversation with Y/N and Bucky.

“So you’re an avenger?” She looked up and smiled at the large man. 

“Only by association. They give me a place to live, and I help them out with missions” She shrugged and stood up. Compared to her, Logan towered over her. “So you’re an X-man?”

“Only by association” Logan nodded and noticed the Professor leaving Starks office. And with that, he was gone. Y/N sighed. Bucky stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Guess we’ll be seeing more of them,” He said. He was right, Y/N would be seeing a lot of Logan. She wanted to know more. 

The X-men had successfully worked with the Avengers for a series of related missions, Y/N only onboard for some of them, so as a celebration of their success, Professor Xavier hosted a dinner night for the Avengers. Y/N parted ways with the woman and walked over to Logan. She leaned over the counter and poured herself a drink. 

“Enjoying yourself?” They’d only spoken a few times during their missions. They seemed to work well together without talking. Logan nodded and took a sip of his drink. “I’ve never actually been here before, it’s nice” 

“It is, have you had the tour yet?” Logan pulled a cigar out of his pocket. “I need fresh air anyway, so I can show you around a bit” Y/N nodded and followed him out of the kitchen. They walked through the dining room and a living room. One of a few, Logan had said. They made their way outside to the back of the building. Y/N watched as Logan lit his cigar and she took this opportunity to light herself a cigarette. Logan scoffed slightly. “Didn’t peg you for a smoker, bub” 

She smiled and shrugged. “Sometimes you just need a cigarette,” Logan nodded, understanding. He couldn’t help but notice her face, under the moonlight. Her makeup making her features more prominent. He’d recognized she was naturally pretty before, but tonight was different. She was wearing casual, nice clothing. Not her usual tactical gear. Her hair was down unlike how she usually had it. She looked almost regular, someone you wouldn’t expect to have a gun tucked under her skirt. But she was raised to be prepared for anything. “Tell me, how does the Professor feel about his teachers smoking on school grounds?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Besides, it’s a stressful job” Y/N was drawn to him, especially tonight. Maybe it was just the alcohol or the moonlight. Something in her stirred. She needed more. His massive body, his arms around her…

They’d had a moment, about 3 weeks back, a one-time thing. Logan was at the compound with Bobby and Kitty, discussing some information they had with the team. Y/N wasn’t a part of the conversation, she had just been training with Yelena. As she walked into the room, the conversation died down. Stark called the meeting there and everyone piled out of the room. Except for Logan, he stayed behind. They made small talk, but there was tension between them. He’d seen how she’d fight, still looking gorgeous after each punch. Even after she’d been training, she barely looked bothered. Logan was collecting files from around the table when he leaned past Y/N, brushing past her shoulder. He held his breath, fearing something would happen if he moved. 

“Good workout?” he finally said, breaking the tension. 

“Could’ve joined, y’know, since we’re a “team” now” She replied calmly, leaning against the table. “God knows I need a new training partner, Yelena is relentless” 

“You guys are very close.” Logan was still standing right next to Y/N. He extended his claws out to retrieve the last file on the table. 

“We were raised together, in the red room... We escaped together, and when she found her sister, she offered for us to stay here. We were family, shared trauma and all..” she trailed off, shaking her head “Sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all this onto you” 

“It’s okay, I get it” Logan looked over. He saw a vulnerable woman, not the same snide-commenting one he’d gotten to know on the battlefield. His gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips, hurt washing over her face. And then it happens. Y/N had leaned in and kissed Logan. By instinct, he pulled back, shock all over his face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sor-” Y/N was cut off by Logan's lips crashing against hers. His hands dropped the files and moved to her waist, pulling her in flush against his body. He was rough, his lips chapped. She was comfortable, her lips soft. Y/N lifted a hand into his hair. That caused Logan to pull away again, second-guessing what he was doing. 

“No I’m sorry, you’re upset and I’m taking advantage.” Logan grabbed the files off the table and left the room, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts. It felt like second nature, the act itself feeling so normal that it left Y/N feeling confused. Why had she done that? Why did she open up like that? Logan was an X-men. They should be working together, not getting together behind closed doors. 

“You’re cold, here” That snapped Y/N back. Logan removed his jacket and put it around her, his hands lingering on her shoulders. Y/N leaned in and kissed his cheek without thinking. Stupid. Logan smiled and kissed her forehead. It was instant. Y/N put her cigarette out, took Logan's cigar away from his mouth, and kissed him. It was hungry, desperate. To her surprise, logan leaned into it this time, putting one hand around her waist and the other on her face. Then he pulled away. “I wouldn’t take a man's cigar away from him, sweetheart,” he said, taking it back. 

“What are you gonna do about it” The words escaped before she could think about it. Then, without warning, Logan took her hand and pulled her inside the building. This was exciting. He found an empty broom closet and the two went inside. Before she could ask what was happening, Logan had her pinned against the door. They could hear talking and laughter. Logan locked the door, just in case. Y/N was drinking in his scent, the cigar still burning between his lips. He removed it, put it out against his hand, and placed it back in his pocket. He was thinking about it, a suitable punishment. 

“Let's see, what would a dirty woman like you deserve” he snarled before kissing her again. It was heated, sloppy. Y/N had been waiting for a moment like this for months. Before this, it was stolen looks and glances towards the other. He would casually ask if she was okay during their missions. Constantly checking in. This was different. This was heading somewhere. Finally.

She moved her right leg to wrap around Logan’s left leg in an attempt to bring him closer. He kisses her roughly, poking his tongue inside his mouth to show whos boss here. Logan’s hands roamed her body, smiling when he found the gun she had hidden for emergencies. He removed it carefully before returning to explore Y/N’s body. He left marks down her neck, causing a loud moan to escape. Logan placed a hand over her mouth, the other returning to her leg. She leaned into him, desperate for him to feel her. She could feel his growing erection against her. She muffled something against his hand quietly. He moved it away.

“I need you” she panted, she was eager, he’ll give her that. He wanted to devour her. He pulled down her underwear and traced her clit painfully slow. 

“So wet for me already,” he purred. Her hips moved closer, wanting more. Her hands roamed his chest, then moved down to his belt. She started to unbuckle it, fumbling as she was very distracted when he stopped her. He moved away slightly, taking in his view. He quickly took his belt off with one swift tug and then freed himself of his pants. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight, daunted by his size. Logan smiled and returned his lips to hers. He placed his hands under her thighs and lifted her onto him slowly. Y/N moaned against the contact. “Shh, I’ll need you to be more quiet sweetheart” 

Logan got a good rhythm going before returning his lips to a special spot on Y/N’s neck. She whimpered, not wanting anyone to hear her get fucked against a door. Her legs wrapped themselves around Logan's waist, not wanting him to leave. His hand covered her mouth, not wanting any noise to escape. He nibbled and licked and kissed all along Y/N’s neck. Her hand reached into his hair, holding on for dear life. She was already close to her end. She bit the inside of Logan's hand. This made him speed up his thrusts, knowing she was almost close to coming undone around him. 

“Such a dirty girl, taking me so well,” Logan growled against her skin. His movements were getting rough and sloppy, also close to his climax. Lust filled his eyes when he saw the pleasure on Y/N’s face. He became animalistic almost, kissing her, dominating her mouth. Y/N could feel the build-up coming, moaning against Logan's mouth, no longer caring about the possibility of being heard. He placed his hand back over her mouth as she came around him. Logan continued until a deep grunt left his mouth, coming undone inside her. Y/N felt him fill her up, and it drips around Logan's waist. They're both breathing heavily and kissing each other sloppily. They rode out the high together for as long as possible before Logan placed her back down. Her heart was racing, she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Logan pulled his pants back up and adjusted his belt. He didn’t know what to say. Y/N was still trying to catch her breath when he handed her gun and underwear back to her. She put everything back into place when Logan broke their silence. “I hope we can do that again sometime bub” and before she could reply, Logan had left the closet, returning to the dinner night.

Part 2: here.

[hopelesslydimwitted]

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face i hope you don’t mind that i wrote smth for the hunger games au. the worms got me 😔

idk who the tribute is. hes probably as big or bigger than stanley tho— i like the idea of two bigger boys going toe to toe, one trying to brute force his way thru a fight while the other one (stan) just… dances around him

i also wanted to work in that trident aro mentioned. idk if stan keeps it for more than fishing (i don’t see him killing anyone with it)

tw for violence, this is a hunger games thing

Maybe, just maybe, if Stan stayed really still, the hulking tribute in front of him wouldn’t see him. The other boy wouldn’t notice him, and definitely wouldn’t point that fucking trident at him. He wouldn’t charge at Stan, trident raised, and try to kill him.

They both take a breath, Stan’s pulse steadily thumping in his ears, and the other boy charges.

Fuck.

Stan does what he does best-- evasive maneuvers. He ducks the first jab of the trident, hearing the heavy metal whistle past his ear at a speed that would have definitely impaled him. He quickly dodges around the boy’s other side. He’s light on his feet, boots dancing along the grassy floor as he tries to stay in the tribute’s blind spot. Stan just needs long enough to untangle his net and then--

Stan throws the net high, over the tribute’s head, the knotted rope spreading like the wings of the totem pole. It’s only half-finished, but it should be large enough to tangle this kid up. This boy knows Stan’s strategy-- throw the net, pin them down, and take off-- he should, he’s been caught by Stan’s net twice.

This time, he won’t let himself be trapped and tied down. He manages to swing the trident around fast enough to avoid getting tangled in the net himself. The tribute roars, both with fury and victory, trying to shake the net off the barbed ends. Stan lurches forward, grabbing the tail of the net and yanking.

It’s a deadly tug-of-war for a few moments before Stan finally manages to wrench the trident out of the boy’s hands, blindly hurling it to his left. He only just hears it clatter to the ground as he turns right and bolts. He’s about a hundred yards from the lake. He knows this tribute can’t swim-- if Stan can get close enough to dive in, he should be able to--

Something crashes into his legs, sending Stan face-first into the damp dirt of the beach. The breath is knocked from his lungs.

The tribute crawls the rest of the way up his torso. He grabs Stan by the arm and flips him around, pinning him. Stan kicks, heart frantic between his ribs.

This is bad, get up get up get up

A fist lands across his jaw before he can swing. It bursts with pain, but it’s not enough to knock him silly. The tribute settles on his hips, raising his fist for another blow-- Stan gets his feet on solid ground and bucks, managing to knock the boy off of him. Stan rolls, scrambling away as fast as he can. He kicks at the hand that finds his ankle and manages to drive his heel into the boy’s nose.

Stan rises to his feet. He’s accidentally put the tribute between him and the lake, and the other boy is standing before Stan can skirt around him.

His eyes are wild, locked on Stan with deadly intent.

Stan decides he’d rather fight here than up closer to the tree line-- if they get close enough to where he threw the trident, he’ll be in trouble.

The tribute approaches with a wide swing. It’s one of the worst hooks Stan’s ever seen, and he dodges it with ease. The boy’s left himself open, too, and Stan lands a quick jab to his abdomen. It goes like this for a while-- the boy throwing wild, desperate punches that reek of poor training. Stan dancing around him, trying to get to his other side. The tribute must know this-- he refuses to let Stan get even a foot closer to the lake.

Stan’s legs are starting to burn, fists aching from the fighting. It’s been too long with too little food-- he needs to get away.

“C’mon, man!” he finds himself shouting. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, if anything.

Then, he sees an opening. The boy lurches and steps wrong, his ankle twisting out from underneath him. He falls, and Stan goes to circle him.

Stan’s not expecting the hands that clamp down on his leg, sending Stan crashing to the ground.

“Get off!” he shouts, kicking wildly behind him. He’s yanked backwards towards the other boy.

They wrestle, hands bruising and nails scratching each other as they fight. Stan’s lungs are on fire. Fighting for your life is exhausting, and he can’t do this much longer.

Why won’t this bastard let me run?

When Stan finds himself on top, one of the boy’s arms crushed under his knee, Stan takes the opportunity. Not to run-- he knows how that will go-- but to rain down punches. His knuckles are torn up and bloody as they batter the tribute’s face. Stan can feel bone crack under his fists.

“Let-- me-- go!” he’s yelling. He doesn’t know he is.

The tribute’s grip on his arm loosens, staggering as his head lolls on the ground. Stan’s fist falters for a moment, and he can’t feel his body. The boy groans, dazed and half-dead.

I-- Stan’s whole body freezes. He has to force himself to stop, to not give in to the arena-fueled adrenaline that begs him to kill this boy. This child.

His feet slip once as he rises. He accidentally steps on the boy’s arm, and he hears an answering cry.

He’s not dead, Stan thinks. He’s not sure if he’s grateful or not.

He runs.

He runs to where dirt turns to sand, less than 20 yards from the shoreline. He’ll have to swim above water; he doesn’t have enough breath to dive--

Pain lights up the side of his thigh.

For the third time, his knees hit the dirt. Hot blood starts to stain his pants.

“Get--” he hears behind him. “Get back here!”

Stan didn’t realize this tribute had more than one weapon on him. He scrambles forwards, ignoring the shooting heat from the cut. He feels his throat tighten with desperation-- he was so close to escaping.

The small knife finds purchase in his calf. Stan screams and kicks back. The tribute is already on him, crushing him against the earth. The knife in his hand is wavering, even if the look in his swollen eyes is determined.

Stan tries to punch his jaw, his face, his neck, anything, but the boy is too high above him. He claws, grabs, bites, kicks instead, trying to worm his way out again. He wonders if he’s sobbing yet.

When the knife comes down, it’s slow and messy. The tribute sways. Stan registers it, somewhere in the back of his mind. He can’t think about it, not yet-- not when his body is still fighting for his life.

They roll. The boy goes too easily. He’s reacting too slowly, and the words coming out of his mouth are wet and slurred.

“Jus’ die already,” he spits. He’s missing a tooth from where Stan’s knuckles knocked it loose.

The tribute lands on his back, head knocking hard against the ground. Even that is enough to daze him again, his eyes losing focus. Stan can’t think about it. He can’t think about how weak this boy already is, how he’s still so intent on killing Stan, how this boy shouldn’t even be here.

He can’t think.

He strikes instead. The first punch lands solidly against the tribute’s cheek. The knife is dropped from his slackened hand.

Stan takes a shaky breath in.

The second punch connects with his temple. Stan tries to ignore the way it buckles under his fist.

Why couldn’t he let Stan run away?

The third bursts the boy’s eye. There’s more than just blood flowing from the wound.

He wants to leave.

The fourth dislocates the tribute’s jaw. It hangs, bouncing with each following strike.

He wants to go home.

The fifth. The sixth. The tribute is still making sounds, low moans and wet sobs from deep in his chest.

He wants Ford.

Seven. Eight. Stan’s knuckles are numb. His whole being is numb. He can’t feel the tears on his face.

Stan doesn’t know he’s speaking. He can’t hear how rough his voice is or feel the rumble of his vocal cords. He can’t hear the choked pleading coming from his lips. The cameras pick up every “I’m sorry-- I’m so sorry” that he weeps.

Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

The tribute stops moving. Stops making noise.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

Stan can’t stop crying, can’t stop apologizing. Who is he apologizing to? The television personalities will argue this for days to come.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.

There’s a cannon above him. It’s the only thing that makes Stan stop. The boom echoes in his ears, halting his blood-soaked fist midair. He slowly comes back to his senses.

The boy beneath him is dead, unrecognizable.

They finally did it.

Stan quickly takes the knife-- it’s no bigger than a pocket knife, really-- and pockets it. Hands fly across the corpse’s body, taking whatever they can find.

He only spares a brief look around the treeline. He sees no bodies, hears no voices, hears no cracking of branches. His eyes land on the trident, and it’s in his hands before he can think. He refuses to look at the boy on his way back to the water.

His goal is to swim. To dive in and swim away.

His actions are to kneel. To plunge his hands into the water. To scrub the blood away with heaving breaths.

They made me kill someone.

He refuses to cry. His mind slots back into place. His face is still numb-- thinks he might say something, a smart quip or dumb joke that falls in line with his persona.

He doesn’t care if he manages or not. The capital will have to forgive him for putting on bad television.

He scrubs his palms.

He scrubs his knuckles.

He scrubs his fingers.

He scrubs under his nails.

He can’t reach the blood under his skin. The poison that slips into his veins. He doesn’t want to feel this way again.

He knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He will feel this way again. When he kills someone else.

He wants to go home.

[marioandluigigi]

Love love loved the drunk van hcs. Could you write a fic about the morning after, like the reader rushing to get her a trashcan, pulling back her hair, helping her drink Gatorade, helping her shower (which could turn into smut idk if you write for that tho) or lots of snuggling

Hangovers

Van Palmer x fem!reader

Taking care of your very hangover gf

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking , vomiting, headaches and minor smut.

You wake up as the sun hits your eyes you look down and feel your girlfriend’s arms draped around as if she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You vaguely remember last night’s events, Jackie’s party drinking way too much shitty bear and driving your girlfriend to your place so she could sleep it off.

You try to recall what landed you both in this mess sure you drank but you were sober for the most part, you didn’t drink much more than the occasional beer, being the designated driver in your relationship because your girlfriend didn’t have a license or a car.

You faintly remember Van and Natalie playing beer pong together, the latter being brutal at the game, meant your girlfriend lost miserably but in an attempt to redeem herself and impress you she decided to play again losing again meaning she had to drink most of the beer on the table. You reassured that you were very impressed as a way to calm her drunk mind kissing her face as you dragged her to your car before she embarrassed herself further.

As you’re lost in thought you feel the culprit stirring next to you mumbling something you can’t quite make out. Before she sits up briskly looking rather pale. You immediately get up and grab the trashcan near your desk and hand it to her.

“Don’t look at me” she says as you hold her red hair and rub her back as she empties the contents of her stomach into the trash can.

“You’re acting like I’ve never seen you throw up before” you retaliate unfazed by her sudden insecurity.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? What kind of girlfriend are you?”

“The kind that’s putting up with your ass despite the fact that I warned you multiple times to not drink that much.”

“Fair.” She mumbles as she puts the trash can on the ground and looks at you with the best puppy dog eyes she can muster.

She stares at you for a while before protesting.

“My head is killing me man.” She complains as she rubs her forehead and her hair falls framing her face.

She falls back on the bed staring at you through her eyelashes

“Why would you let me drink that much” she asks annoyed more at herself than at you really.

“Me? You’re the one who decided to play beer pong with Nat. Twice.” You tell her.

“She totally cheated.”

“How do you cheat at beer pong?” You ask her not falling for her excuses.

“Idk but she did I can feel it.” She huffs annoyed.

You roll your eyes affectionately at her before pulling her to your side stroking her back.

“You know you should really go shower and brush your teeth.” You say softly.

“You’re coming with?” She asks with that smirk of hers you never manage to resist.

“Fine.” You tell her.

You lead her to your bathroom giggling on the way as she stumbles into the door. Once inside the locked room you help her undress, undressing yourself in the process and helping her into the shower.

You feel the water cascading down your body until you feel something else lips on your neck making their way down to your chest.

“Van.” You protest, attempting to remain quiet as her tongue circles your nipple.

“What.” She asks ever so innocently. “I brushed my teeth.” She adds as her lips latch onto your other breast.

“My parents are literally asleep in the next room.” You complain unable to stop the soft moans that escape your lips.

“Well than your gonna have to be quiet won’t you princess?” She says as her lips make their way down your body. “Unless you wanna bust our very believable friendship.” She quips as her mouth makes contact with your center.

You cringe at the mental image of your parents finding out about you and Vans relationship in such a way.

She keeps lapping at your center like a woman starved and you have to bite your hand in order to remain silent, suddenly feeling very grateful for the running water for muffling the obscene sounds you two are making.

You cum with a muffled scream against your hand and she keeps lapping at you until you physically have to pull her away she comes up grins at you and pulls you into an embrace while the water hits you both. “So good for me so perfect.” She says with her face in the crook of your neck.

You both go back to your room still half wet and you lay on the bed with your head on her chest as she strokes your hair. You get up straddle her and start to kiss her neck.

“What are you doing?” She asks bewildered but smiling amused nonetheless.

“Returning the favor.” You tease as your hands make their way down her body.

[elvensorceress]

idk I get incredibly angry at homophobes being cast on my gay shows. anybody want the start of my fic where Eddie dumps her bigoted ass and then has a gay ole sexy time with his husband and his husband's new boyfriend? because here. you can have. it's cathartic 💕

test drive - 2K, BuckTommy, BuckEddieTommy, Buddie endgame forever / Explicit

The restaurant is dimly lit in a way that might be classy and romantic, but Tommy’s hand is also on Buck’s thigh. And he’s having a lot of very not-classy, not even very romantic sorts of thoughts. Everything is far more along the lines of, he could put his hand on my dick, and I know what his cock feels like down my throat, and why are we here in a public place when we could be back at my loft taking turns fucking each other until we’re both a mess of cum and lube and sweat and sexy bruises and love bites? Because all of that is way more appealing than what they are sitting here, waiting to do. 

If it were just one of their dates, it’d be great. Those are fantastic. Tommy likes to pick him up and take him to nice places and he smiles in a really, really soft cute way that also has an air of, I am going to fuck you until you scream and you will love every second. And holy fucking god, does Buck love every second. 

Bisexuality, man. Who knew? 

It’s so fantastic. It’s so different? Or maybe it’s just that Tommy is different because he’s ridiculously cool and hot and Buck always really liked when someone knew what they wanted and would take the lead and he could do everything in his power to please them and make them feel good. Confidence is infinitely sexy and competence even more so. And Tommy has all of that in spades. 

And Buck loves men. Buck really loves men. It makes so much sense and how had he never even considered? Maybe he considered but he sure as hell never realized wanting a man and being attracted to a man was something that fit so well. Fuck, it fits so well. 

Maybe he could even end up with a man someday? Maybe he could marry a man and have a relationship that is like this all the time for the rest of his life? Not that he doesn’t like women still. Women are great. People who don’t identify as either or they identify as both or however they choose— they’re great, too. 

Everyone is hot and Evan Buckley is very bisexual, and it just might be one of the greatest revelations he’s ever had. 

He’s just really, really enjoying being with a man right now. 

He is not, however, enjoying the thought of this dinner. Everything about this dinner makes his stomach a washing machine of anxiety. For no reason. He doesn’t know why. There’s nothing wrong with it. 

Why wouldn’t he and his boyfriend go on a double date with his best friend who is their mutual friend, and his best friend’s girlfriend. What is wrong with that? It’s fine. Should be— fun? 

Shouldn’t be a bad taste in his mouth that the wine still hasn’t gotten rid of and roiling in his stomach that is really killing his appetite. But it very much is. 

Tommy squeezes Buck’s thigh and rubs it in a way that surely is supposed to be comforting. But it makes Buck want to drag him out of this restaurant and back to the loft where he can show Tommy how good he is at fucking him now. Not just because it would be a thousand times better than the prospect of this dinner. The bar is so low on the ground, it’s buried at this point. But also because sex with his new boyfriend is better than— actually, Buck is having a hard time thinking of anything that is better right now. 

Very hard time. 

They’ve been practicing. Everything. Blowjobs, fucking, fingering, ball massages, prostate milking, rimming— all sorts of really fun things Buck never even imagined could feel so good. Not that he was oblivious to a lot of it. He has toys. His ex was into pegging. Buck might have been unaware of how intense and gay— well, bi. He’s bi now. Buck is bi now. Probably always was but he knows it now. He’s bisexual.— his attraction to men could be. But he was not unaware of sexual acts that feel good to his body. 

But it’s totally different with a real man and a real cock and being manhandled by someone who might actually be bigger and stronger than you is really fucking hot. 

He checks his watch again and it’s already 7:28. They’re almost half an hour late. Which is so not like Eddie. He’s not sure if Marisol is like that but he knows for sure Eddie is either fifteen minutes early for everything or he texts if there is a problem. Even then, he’s only ever a few minutes late. If that. And last Buck checked, there were no new messages on his phone. 

He checks again, and still nothing. Not even to Buck’s message of, hey u ok? u on the way? He frowns and sets his phone back on the table and turns to Tommy. “How long before I’m allowed to be really worried?”

Tommy gives him an amused smile. “You can be worried.”

“How long before we need to bother Athena? Ten more minutes? Five? Sh-should I bother Athena now?”

Tommy’s eyebrows scrunch and he looks at Buck like he’s crazy. Okay, it’s probably crazy. Just. He’s worried? That must be the churning in his stomach. “I’m sure Eddie’s fine. It hasn’t been that long. And he’s Eddie.”

Yeah. Yeah, he’s Eddie. But Eddie was also shot downtown in the middle of broad daylight and nearly bled out all over, and there’s not much anyone can do even if they are trained in hand to hand combat and self-defense and those kinds of things. Not many ways to defend against a sniper round that shouldn’t even be a thing. 

Not that Buck is thinking about that. Ever. 

He’s just turning into a washing machine over this dinner. That’s all. 

Five minutes later, some of it finally eases when Eddie finally shows up and sits down across from them. Alone. 

Alone?

“Sorry, guys,” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and breathes like he’s run a hundred miles. He’s hardly been looking distressed at all lately. He’s been glowing smiles and pretty laughs. Not pretty. Nice? Good? Good that he’s so much happier and at peace. 

But he’s not that now. 

“I would’ve—” Eddie checks his own watch, one that was a Christmas present that Buck had engraved with, all the time you need, and must realize how late he actually is. “Fuck. Sorry. Really sorry. I’ll buy? Unless you’ve already eaten and paid and are about to leave.” 

Tommy shakes his head and has that nice smile that’s so reassuring. “We haven’t. Don’t worry about it.”

“We were waiting,” Buck adds and itches to ask him what’s wrong, why he’s late, why he looks— like he isn’t okay. 

“Great.” Eddie nods tersely and it sounds anything but great. “They got anything stronger than wine and cocktails here? Because—” He doesn’t say. But he does make a face the conveys everything. 

“Doubt it,” Tommy says. “But we can get something somewhere else. Is Mar— Mari?”

“Marisol,” Buck supplies. Not that it matters. Not that he cares. Is he supposed to care? There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s fine. 

“Right,” Tommy says, which should say everything. Eddie’s been hanging out with Tommy for months, Buck’s been with Tommy for months, and Tommy is pretty damn good at remembering people’s names. “Marisol. Is she still on the way?”

Eddie’s jaw gets very tight. “No. We’re done.” 

Tommy looks at Buck and Buck looks at Tommy. They’re done? They broke up? Not that it’s particularly surprising. Part of the curse of dating someone you met on a call. Gotta be. Also the whole thing where Eddie has some kind of commitment issues or something because as soon as he gets a girlfriend, he has to spend all his time doing anything besides being with said girlfriend.

“So, drinking?” Tommy says. 

Buck pushes his wine glass across the table. They usually share when they eat together. Drinks, food, anything. And he’s happy to offer it to the cause. 

“Yes, drinking.” Eddie takes Buck’s wine and downs all of it. 

Eddie’s single again. Marisol isn’t coming to dinner and she’s not part of their lives any longer. Not that Buck has a problem with her. She’s fine. She was nothing really. That wasn’t going to last. Eddie likes the idea of being with someone. So he says. He’s allergic to actually having a relationship for some reason. 

The washing machine in Buck’s stomach disappears though. Which is so much better. Now, it’s just Buck hanging out with his best friend and his boyfriend. 

Maybe there’s a little washing machine. It’s nothing though. 

They order food and drinks, and Eddie only goes through a couple shots and three glasses of wine and one beer. But he eats and also drinks water and doesn’t seem inebriated at all. So, they focus on the meal and Tommy’s latest work stories of helicopter rescues. 

It’s not until after Buck discreetly hands their waiter his credit card before they’re actually brought the bill, that Eddie actually starts talking.

“I kind of fucked up. Didn’t mean to. I owe you an apology,” he says and looks at Buck with worlds of regret and sorrow. 

Whatever it is, Buck forgives him. He’s sure he’s done far worse than whatever it is. “Why? What, uh, what happened?”

Eddie doesn’t look at him. Or Tommy. He does shake his head but not like he’s saying no. More like he’s disgusted. “I let it slip that you two are— that you’re. Dating. Together. Boyfriends? Do you call each other that? Are you boyf— never mind, I let it slip. I’m sorry. That was my bad. Not my secret to tell.”

Tommy looks scrunched and confused again and Buck— he doesn’t understand what the problem is? No, he hasn’t told many people yet. But it’s not a secret that he and Tommy are together. 

“Eds,” Buck says and immediately thinks he probably shouldn’t have called him that. He doesn’t know why. But he shouldn’t. “It’s fine. I’m not— It’s not a secret. I’m not hiding. Or— or in the closet? I’m out. Now. I’m bi and—” And he’s really happy about that. He really loves it. He’s bisexual. He loves women and men and whoever regardless of gender. And holy shit, does he love men right now. He really, really loves being with a man. He looks to his side and grins brightly at Tommy. “And I’m not ashamed or embarrassed that Tommy and I are together.”

There’s a cute half smile that curves the side of Tommy’s mouth and Buck so wants to kiss him. And do all sorts of other things with him. 

“Well. Good.” Eddie taps his finger on an empty shot glass like he’s contemplating ordering another. “Still. Didn’t go well. Didn’t mean to out you like that.”

“Didn’t go well?” Tommy asks. “Saying that Evan and I are dating didn’t go well?”

Eddie purses his lips and does a slow, exaggerated shake of his head. “Nope. But at least I learned that now. Has the waiter brought our check yet? Because I’m just going to drink more if I don’t head out soon. Not that I’m sad about her or anything. I’m pissed. You think you know someone, and no. No, she’s a raging homophobe.”

She— oh. Oh, that’s what happened. “She broke up with you because we’re gay? Bi and gay? Or— you know what I mean.” Is Tommy gay? Or bi? Or something else? Buck hasn’t actually asked what label he uses. How he qualifies his sexuality. He felt weird asking. It’s so personal. Is he supposed to ask? All he knows is that Tommy was into him. Tommy kissed him and it was breathtaking, incredible, magnificent and changed Buck’s whole life. He didn’t really think anything beyond that. Couldn’t really think beyond that. 

Eddie definitively points at himself and then at phantom nothingness. “I dumped her. Because I said this was a double date with you guys and she said, well not really, and I said, no really. It’s a double date. Her and me and both of you. Double date. Except not her. Ever. Anymore. Because she had to go off about how it was wrong and made her uncomfortable and I ‘let both of you be alone with Christopher?’ And it couldn’t possibly be a date like me and her would go on a date because she’s a woman and I’m a man and that was normal. But you two are both men. Both muscular, powerful, masculine, manly firemen type men— so it could never be the same especially because neither one of you are flamey or girly or whatever, so it could never work, the two of you since neither one of you is ‘The Girl.’ Which is all bullshit. By the way. Obviously. And,” he finally stops and breathes, and there’s a hard swallow in his throat and his eyes are distant and his whole body is strung tight and if he could breathe fire? He probably would. Holy shit, he’s pissed off. Buck isn’t even sure he’s ever seen Eddie this angry at anyone who hasn’t hurt someone he loves. 

Although. Technically she did? Not hurt per se, Buck doesn’t give a shit about what she thinks of him. But she was insulting them. So. Yeah, okay, of course fiercely protective Eddie would be angry. 

“And anyway,” Eddie says, still never quite looking at Buck or even at Tommy. Never quite focusing on them. “That’s how I’m single and back on the market again.” He smiles a wide, bitter, snarky kind of smile, and steals the half-full beer glass in front of Buck and downs it in one gulp. 

(Read on AO3)

[forsaken-headcanons]

i freaking LOVE shedletsky and idk why so HAVE ALL MY HEADCANONS AHAHGAGAH

Shed is in his early 40s (started working at Roblox in late 20s).

He likes wearing his Telamon robes better than his normal fit because it helps him actually feel like a swordsman.

His closet is full of SFOTH swords.

He has a collection of rocks for sword sharpening.

The only things he can make for food are fried chicken (ofc) and sandwiches.

He is pudgy but also tall and kinda built.

He has the most obnoxious laugh out of all the survivors.

He sometimes throws cups of fried chicken grease at the killers to blind them.

He and 1x were the first ones that arrived in the Forsaken universe.

He had a breakdown when Builderman came in because he was very happy and very sad at the same time and he kinda went kaboom (Builderman is his therapist now).

He cannot feel hate because 1x exists, and every time he wants to 1x gets a slight boost in power. Not being able to feel drives him a bit crazy…

He’s a bit delusional and hallucinatory. He can see and feel things that the other survivors can’t.

He is pretty crazy due to being in the Forsaken realm for so long, but he still has a ground in reality. However, it causes him to have frequent mood swings.

He’s usually the last man standing because of his experience with not only combat in SFOTH but also because he’s been there the longest. He’s barely affected by death anymore because he knows everyone will just respawn.

Near death experience? He was pushed off Roblox HQ by someone he doesn’t remember.

He’s afraid of wielding the Ghostwalker sword (no not bc it’s gonna kill him Blocktales fans) because that sword is what’ll cause what I like to call Biblically Accurate Telamon (he has the wings and stuff).

He has red heterochromia in the left eye because of 1x. (plsplspls can more people draw that)

Whenever he’s having a moment he smiles to gaslight himself into thinking he’s happy.

Despite all this, he is still some guy.

— ink anon (im so cooked)

Absolutely cooked and absolutely ate. Ink anon coming here with another peak headcanon post and feeding all of us.

[thatonepersononline]

a dangerous hookup

idk how i felt abt that ending, i rushed it 😔😔 but im slowly easing into writing smut, i read a lot of it but i don’t write it well. so bare with me 🩷😛

paring: spencer x y/n.

summary: Spencer has been tracking a killer for months, little did he know his newist hookup, has a dangerous secret.

warnings: talks about sex, doesn’t get to detailed.

word count: 4136

The BAU has been tracking an unsub for the last 2 months. The unsub, who is known as “The Widow”, is known to seduce rich and powerful men and murder them. Each kill is a different style, with over 15 kills and barely any evidence, the BAU is stumped. Especially Spencer, he has tried every deductive reasoning practice in the book, studied her M.O. looked over all the evidence, which there’s not much of only a blonde hair, from a wig, and a partial print that doesn’t match anyone in the system. To put it easily Spencer Reid is stumped, and everyone on the team can see it.

“Reid, you need to take a break,” Derek says to Spencer as he pours over the reports for the 100th time that day. “I might be onto something, I’m going to stay a little longer,” He doesn’t even look up from the report as he says that. Derek sighs and pulls Spencer up by the arms.

The two men drive to a regular cop bar, they entered and immediately walk up to the bar table and order two beers. A couple drinks later Derek finds himself two ladies who he walks off with. As Spencer stands alone, his first beer still untouched, he hears a voice behind him.

“What is a handsome man like you doing here alone?” You ask as you walk towards him. Spencer stares at you, like he can’t understand why a gorgeous girl like you would talk to him. You smile as you sit next to him, “What, is there something in my teeth?” Spencer looks down at the ground before meeting your eyes, “No, no nothing there, I was just surprised,” he chuckles. You laugh along with him softly, “How were you surprised,” you place your hand on his arm, that’s resting on the bar table, gently. “I- Well, I don’t get hit on very much,” he confesses shyly. “Well let me change that, what’s your name,” You smile at him.

Spencer smiles. “My name is Spencer… Spencer Reid.”

You smirk, “Well Spencer, I think me and you will have a nice time tonight. How about a drink to start off?” You order a glass a champagne for you and Spencer. While the bartender gets our drink we start talking. “So Spencer, what is a hot guy like you doing here by your self,” You ask as the bartender brings the drinks over. He takes a sip of the champagne before answering, “Me and my friend, Derek, came here to help destress from our job. But Derek left with some girls,” He chuckled. “What do you do for work?” You ask, tilting your head slightly. “Oh, I work for the FBI, we were trying to blow off some steam about a case we can’t close,” He sighs. You smirk, “How about you take me back to your place and i’ll help you blow off a lot of steam.”

We enter his apartment and as he shuts the front door, he puts his hands on my hips and kisses me nervously at first. You kiss him back deeply, not as nervous then him. You and him slowly start stumbling into his apartment, kissing as you guys try and walk towards him room. There’s a trail of discarded clothes that’s follows you two through the apartment. You reach his bed, you’ve only in your undergarments now. You look down at a mostly naked Spencer who is on his knees, in front of you. “let me worship you..” he mumbled as he starts kissing up your thighs towards your clothed clit.

timeskip 2 weeks later

Almost everyday for the past 2 weeks you and Spencer have hooked up. Each time more wild and fun than the last. With the unsolved case still underway, Spencer uses you to deal with these pent up feelings.

“Kid we got a new break through,” Derek said as he waked past Spencer’s desk towards a large tv in the middle of the room. Spencer turned in his chair toward the tv, he got up and walked closer. “Last night, Harry Coleman who was a local politician, was murder in his home. It was the Widows M.O. so we have reason to believe it was her. But Coleman had secret cameras in his home, and it captured a partial image of the Widow.” Garcia says as she shows the images of Coleman murder. Finally she shows the picture that the camera took. It shows for a bit but the face was blurry, as it zoomed in and cleared the image. Spencer sat forward as he proceeded the image. She looked familiar somehow. Spencer stood up as it hit him, it was you…

[justsomeoneunordinary]

Finished watching Melody of Golden Age (fantastic show, I highly recommend!!!) and pretty much since the beginning I've been imagining a MadaTobi AU, so:

Madara is the head of the imperial guards (or whatever the Edo Japanese equivalent is, Idk (samurai?)), and Tobirama works just as a clerk at the Ministry of Justice (or again, the equivalent of it). He mostly does the autopsies even though his intellect makes him an excellent investigator that he could even be the chief inspector - he just prefers to be among the dead bodies.

For his fantastic work and loyalty, the Damiyou bestows Madara with a marriage to the firstborn son of the Senju family. The Damiyou is so kind to take Madara's sexuality into account and it's said, that the firstborn Senju is a beauty among men, a connoisseur of music, poetry, art and dance, a very refined man who'd be perfect for someone like Madara.

It's very unlucky then, that just a few hours before that Hashirama disappeared to elope with the love of his life - Uzumaki Mito. Even worse, following the Damiyou's letter another one by one of the Damiyou's advisors arrives, ordering the firstborn Senju who's to marry Madara to spy on him (or else.)

Tobirama is none of those things Hashirama is being praised for, but he still steps up to take on his role and save his family from impending doom. Unfortunately for him, Madara knows Hashirama from their childhood days and is perfectly aware that Tobirama is not the firstborn child he is to marry. Fortunately for him, though, Madara holds fond feelings for his childhood friend and won't snitch him out and risk him being executed.

Neither of them wants this marriage. But neither can refuse. Madara was all but ordered to and the Senju were all but threatened with their lives if they were not to follow through. Which is why they desperately try to get the other one to divorce him.

Madara - and under his order, the rest of the Uchiha residence - tries to terrify the hell out of Tobirama, constantly holding his sword close to Tobirama's neck and threatening him. And while Tobirama absolutely thinks Madara to be a madman, he is confident Madara won't kill him - he'd have to face the Damiyou's wrath otherwise. So he stands his ground and instead tries to irritate Madara into divorce by bringing the whole residence into chaos with petty tricks like making a mess of Madara's office, eating in their shared bed which drives Madara up a wall, cooking Madara's food too spicy, extinguishing the lanterns during the night...

None of it works but it doesn't stop them from trying. Meanwhile, they also begin to collaborate on big cases. It's the investigations they work on together that bring them closer, rather than their marital bed because for all they can't stand the other one, they can acknowledge the other's intellect.

It takes Tobirama way too long to figure out Madara has so many lanterns alighted at night because he suffers from night blindness. Once he does figure out, he puts all his focus into sciencing a cure. Because he likes the challenge, not because he cares or anything...

Madara on the other hand is aware Tobirama is here to spy on him (and Tobirama is aware that Madara knows... doesn't change the fact that he somehow has to) and yet never rattles him out. Totally only because of Hashirama and not because he worries what'd happen to Tobirama if he were to...

And if Tobirama's spying notes only consist of Madara's meal schedule rather than any useful information ("Oh, well, what can I do? Madara is very careful and will not let me get close to any of his work lalala"), and if Madara changes the residence more and more to Tobirama's liking and even has a lab built for him? Well, then that means nothing. it's not like they're falling in love or something, noooo....

Anyway, in the end they solve a major case, save the Damiyou's life, expose the counselor who wanted Madara to be spied on and live happily after. The End

[es-3]

i love how no one can remember anything from trc except for vibes and so here’s a list i compiled of everything i remember from the entire series

blue made out with a ghost

the ghost was the funniest character and then everyone realized he was a ghost and then everyone forgot about him

persephone lived in the attic

there was a tree that showed them their worst fears when they went inside it and for whatever reason they took turns going inside it like why did they do that and also i think ronan dreamt it????

im pretty sure the trees spoke latin

was that a thing

now that i’m thinking about it i have no idea

boat shoes

the set up for manmouth manufacturing was set up in a way only teenage boys with no supervision could set up

they pulled a little defense against the dark arts teachers but with latin class instead and but i don’t remember how many latin teachers there were

blue and gansey talked on the phone

and then they took little drives but i don’t remember how often that happened

adam straight up killed a dude

blue is NOT a prostitute but she IS half tree

ronans objects of worship were confined to one downtown block

uhhhh i think there was a part with a lake in a cave and i’m pretty sure there were like deer or something and i think blues dad might have been but i do remember they got split up at some point in that cave

latin teacher killed noah

noah had a red car

i’ve heard there was a toga party but i don’t remember anything from it

ronan did not like lamps

adam is the eyes and ears for a sentient forest

the pig

bees

robot ones too

declan dated a bunch of girls named ashley

there was like a hole??? in the ground?? at school i think??? and henry forced gansey to go in it and then trama dumped and then gave him the most traumatizing exposure therapy of his life

gansey has seen ronans dick at least once

adam and ronan ran around pushing each other in shopping carts

“she makes me quiet”

ronan did imaginary drugs and it ended with his organless brother getting kidnapped because his drug buddy had a big fat crush on him and i’m pretty sure there were fireworks involved in the rescue

did gansey go around knocking on doors and talking to people in different accents or was that lockwood and co? or was it both?

adam and ronan went around moving rocks because the trees that talked to adam told him to

blues aunt had lovely cubby hands also i think she might have been a bad guy but i don’t actually remember

oh there was like a crazy lady they found in a tomb idk why i forgot about her

gansey didn’t want to find glendower that one day because the aesthetic was off

maura and calla and persephone met on the side of a road

ganseys sister can fly helicopters

adam and ronan blackmailed their latin teacher for a fake crime with fake evidence that they dreamt up by making dream latin teacher do those things

the gray man was very slay

also he killed ronans dad

and he worked for the latin teacher

oh and there were sleeping mice

and a sleeping mom

and a toaster that didn’t work anymore

there was a grocery store scene i think and im pretty sure there was fighting in that scene

henry was kidnapped when he wasn’t wearing any pants

that’s all gang, tune in next time to see if i can remember anything from the plot

[sschizoid]

Hello again :3 idk if you did something like this in the past (sorry if you did I'm new to the blog :( ) but you ever did the tulpar crew in an AU they survive the crash? Like how their lives are going now?

tbh I've actually never really thought about it! but I'm up for the challenge ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

--

curly

(ignoring the fact that in a realistic setting, his injuries would have most definitely killed him) when rescued, he's got hypothermia, sepsis, blast lung, as well as a laundry list of other complications. it's a miracle he's even alive. his burns are treated through a series of xenographs

he's deaf, as the explosion ruptured his eardrums, and his vocal chords have been effectively fried, so after a series of surgeries and physical/speech therapies, he's left only able to communicate with an eye-tracker until his laryngeal burns are eventually healed. even then, his voice remains scratchy and rough

he's not the man he once was. he has a particularly rough time adjusting to and accepting his new life, as well as dealing with extensive pain and trauma from the crash, but his support system is incredibly strong. he eventually comes to terms with his situation and becomes an ambassador for talking about workplace negligence and the importance of mental health awareness

and he blames himself for everything

jimmy

when initially rescued, everyone is in so much shock that nobody thinks to even mention him being the catalyst of just absolutely everything. but once the shock wears off and people start talking, his deeds are soon brought to light, and he is promptly sent to a maximum-security psychiatric hospital for an indefinite amount of time. he is never charged or held criminally responsible for his crimes on the grounds of insanity

he feels nothing. after months on the ship, his body, mind, and emotions being in absolute overdrive, he can't even find it in himself to feel anger anymore. to feel guilt. to feel anything. its as if a switch has been flipped, and all he hears is a perpetual ringing in his ears as the underlying thought echos that he should have aimed the gun higher

anya

after a lengthy court battle with extensive news coverage, her and the rest of the crew are individually awarded with a hefty sum of compensation due to physical and emotional damages. she's able to take a deep breath, knowing that the medical bills she had from getting her stomach pumped were easily covered, as well as her utilities and rent, for awhile

she miscarries from a combination of stress, malnutrition, and of course, her overdose. her emotions are... well, she doesn't really know what to feel. part of her feels relief, obviously, but the other feels a sick sort of grief that she cannot understand. to cope with these emotions, she finds an online support system for those who have gone through similar experiences as well as a therapist, and curates an environment for healing/moving forward

after taking a few months to herself, healing and spending time with loves ones, she eventually finds the drive to head back to nursing school. while there, she meets a girl whom she grows to be very close with, one who almost loves her cat as much as she does

swansea

just absolutely numb and jaded in every sense of the way. it takes a great deal of effort for him to open up regarding not only the head trauma, but the mental trauma as well. his family eventually drills it into his thick skull that being vulnerable around the people you love isn't weak, and in fact, its one of the bravest things you can do. putting his pride aside, he learns mindfulness, how to open up, and how to accept the help people want to give to him

he has frequent nightmares, mostly revolving what he did to daisuke, but his dog sleeps at the foot of his bed and is quick to wake him up with a few licks to the hand when he's displaying frantic behaviors. after awhile, the two of them finally meet up, and daisuke ensures swansea that he did what he thought was right. and he forgives him

spends a lot more time outside these days. goes on walks, travels with his wife, even has his coffee on the patio instead of somewhere like his desk or couch. he finds that his memory isn't the best anymore, but when he can, he remembers to appreciate the little things in life

daisuke

it all feels like a dream, really. one moment, he's floating through clouds and running through a river, the next, he's awake. in a hospital, and everything hurts. he wakes up with his family at his side, as well as gifts, bouquets of flowers and balloon arrangements. his mother feels guilty beyond belief. daisuke tells her it's not her fault and that he loves her

the surgeons did a pretty bang-up job at patching him back together, the only real evidence of his physical trauma being a faint diagonal divide between his eyes after he's fully healed. he's not quite as symmetrical as he once was, but he says the scar makes him look 'rugged'. he actually hates it, but keeps that to himself

takes a break from the workforce and goes to college, but actually stays in the field of electrical engineering. its what he's found himself to be good at, and passes his introductory classes with relative ease, thanks to the knowledge swansea drilled into him

--

this one actually took me a long time to piece together as I tried to make it as realistic as possible. hope you enjoy!

[saetiate]

if we're still on the topic of size, I personally think that Sae is on the shorter side. but he makes it up with the girth. and by the shorter side, I don't mean that he's not still bullying your cervix, no he's just more creative about it. it's fun for him to watch you fall apart in a thousand different ways I think. he's prepping you with his fingers and curling them inside you for so long that you'll be in tears before he actually puts it in. and then he does. and is so unbearably slow. you're whining at him, telling him that he's prepped you enough and that you can take him now. and he shushes simply you and whispers "you'll like it, I promise princess" and starts slamming into you right after that last whine. you choke out a gasp and grab onto his forearms for your life as the bed starts to creak. and he just keeps going. until you're seeing stars and making a mess all over him. and then he does it again and again and again. idk just something abt Sae being confident in the bedroom and knowing how to wield it to make you fall apart for him is incredibly attractive to me asdshgdsgf. because I truly do think that nothing gives him more satisfaction than being able to make you come for him in so many different ways and being the only one to know all of your tells.

HEYYY HI IS THIS EMERGENCY SERVICES BC THERE IS A BOMB IN MY INBOX WHAT THE HECKKKKKKK (compliment) HI STARRY HOW ARE YOU. HOWS YOUR DAY BEEN. HEY SO THIS KILLED ME??????? CORA FOUND ON THE GROUND???????

CREATIVE??? ohmygod this is going to be the death of me… him getting off watching us fall apart albekwndwjndb he’s sooooooo he’s his own lil version of evil for this and i love him so terribly ohmygod your writing my friend… you are so talented… this is DRIVING ME CRAZYYYY

AND THEN him fingering us to tears before he fucks us :’))) HELLO??? THE PRINCESS NICKNAME AUGHHHHHH UR KIDDING MEEEEEE THATS SO HOT AND THE TEASING… UR DRIVING ME INSANE RNNNNN AND HIS REASSURANCE THAT we would like it AUGHHHHH HAD MY PUSSY DOING BACKFLIPS

FRRR I 100% agree omg the way he learns your body is like none other that is a man that knows exactly what he’s doing and is not afraid to show it ohmygod… STARRY DO U KNOW I LOVE YOU. ALSO U WRECKED ME W THIS. I AM VERY HAPPY TO SEE U AS ALWAYS. I AM ALSO ON THE GROUND. THANK YOU for putting this in my inbox holy shit SHWLFHJENDN I AM SO AMAZED AND GRATEFUL AND HONORED FR THIS IS SO GOOD I AM SAVING THIS LIKE A BOOK SLOTTED IN MY MIND PALACE I am so grateful that u have sent this to me truly………. WAHHH I READ THIS W THE WIDEST EYES EVER the effect that this has had on me :’)))

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Hiyyaa!! 💖💖

I just know that when Santino is in some kind of pain, and he doesn't want to show it, he's extremely irritated and moody.

Like, idk, he got shot or hurt somewhere, for example like, maybe his knee, or ribs or anything really. And yeah he apparently healed but he actually didn't. Maybe something went wrong and the wound or whatever didn't heal fully but he is not saying that to anyone. Especially not to John. And he's like snapping at John for the littlest things and is just always moody. John doesn't know why, until he connects some dots in his head and asks him if he's in some kind of pain. And... Santino finally after some time admits that yeah he's in pain 😞

What do you think about that? :)

Hellooooo! 💝💝

This is such a fun trope - there's always a dramatic reveal when a character tries to hide an injury. And Santino would be such a bad liar when it comes to this - whining the whole time without saying why. Poor Santi, he should just tell John what's wrong! Well, when he finds out, John will take care of him. 🖤

(John is his bodyguard in this, btw.)

●・○・●・○・●

The shootout was relatively minor, all things considered. When Santino said he wasn't hit by any bullets, that was the truth. When he said he wasn't in pain, that was almost the truth too - in the shock right after the fight, he didn't feel much. There was, at least, nothing significant enough to mention when they were in the midst of an escape.

But being body-slammed to the ground has its effects. By the time they got home that night, around 2 AM, there was a deep ache on the left side of his ribcage. If he mentioned it, John would make a fuss for sure. He'd probably even make him stay home the next day to rest. So Santino played off his discomfort as the result of being exhausted and rattled by everything that had happened (which was true). He just wanted to go to bed, he said, and of course John agreed that was best. They fell asleep hand-in-hand without talking much.

But the pain kept waking him up when he moved, so he was tired the next day, on top of being wounded. He snapped at John when he was coming out of the bathroom. "You took forever in there. Do you want to make us late? Come on, help me with my tie." He didn't mention that this was because it hurt to lift his arms too much.

He was supposed to give a tour to an important business contact that day. A day of showing him around the best sites in the New York underworld. "Wine-and-dine him," Gianna had said. He groaned just thinking about it.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a long day ahead. So let's get going."

Thankfully, John let it slide. What he didn't let slide was Santino's attempt to skip breakfast. "You have to at least bring something to eat in the car." He grabbed a bagel on the way out to go with Santino's coffee. Santino grumbled that he wasn't hungry, but to no avail. The pain was killing his appetite.

However, by the time they were walking through New York listening to this rich asshole go on and on about the way crime operated in London, Santino was glad he had eaten. He was really worn out. Every step hurt his side, but he had to keep a straight face, focus on what his guest was saying, and respond politely to everything. It was making him unbelievably frustrated.

They went to an armory, the Continental, the museum, a weapons dealer… While the man had his back turned to admire a view from the roof of a skyscraper, John caught Santino frowning miserably off into the distance. He nudged him and Santino winced before he could stop himself. Damn it. John noticed that immediately. A look of concerned realization stole over his face. He reached out again, more slowly this time, and poked at Santino's side deliberately. Santino smacked his hand away.

Their guest looked back over his shoulder. "Did you say something?"

"No! Not a thing." Santino smiled with teeth, and glared at John when the man looked away again.

"We're going to drive to the next location," John said. "It's too far to walk."

Santino opened his mouth but he couldn't contradict him without making it look like he didn't have control over his bodyguard. Best not to bicker in front of company. And honestly, he was relieved.

John didn't just call for one car, he called for two so they could talk by themselves. As soon as they were alone, he was fussing over Santino. "Pull up your shirt, let me see what happened."

Santino huffed. "It's fine, I just…remember when I got flipped onto the ground last night?"

John inhaled sharply. "Shit, look at these bruises. You could have broken ribs, love. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do I really have bruises?" He did, all over his side. He felt a little bit faint just looking at it. John saw the color drain out of his face and put a hand on his shoulder, protective as ever.

"Here, I told them to bring painkillers." The driver handed over a bottle of pills. "But we need to take you to a doctor right away."

"I can't leave in the middle of this tour!"

John shook his head, but he knew that was true. "Well…let's not walk anymore today. And let's cut it as short as we can. I'll text the doc to be ready as soon as we get home. Until then, I'm not taking my eyes off you." That dark, steady gaze said he meant it.

As much as he had dreading being doted on, Santino was almost blushing with the thrill of seeing John so protective now. "…Thank you. I'm sorry I was so out of sorts all morning."

"It's okay. I just wish I'd known you were hurting."

Always so understanding. Santino leaned forward to kiss him but winced again, so John pushed him back against the seat and came to him instead. For a moment, Santino was lost in that kiss and all the pain disappeared.

[ae-azile]

I have another ChanBig plot for a fic in my head, one that would be dark, explicit, and somewhat traumatizing. 😬 It was likely loosely inspired by the information Chan provided in Gossip After Death, where Korn was considering throwing Big into a business deal with people who wanted to "alter" his duties. I feel like I am literally incapable of writing a one-shot in this fandom, so idk if I will attempt it or not, but here is the general outline:

Despite not taking any time off for an extremely long time, Chan takes extended leave to care for his dying father. The family is supportive and tells him not to worry about anything while he is gone. They encourage him to take whatever time he needs. While most of the guards tend to be intimidated by him, they offer their well-wishes and condolences when they cross paths with him prior to his departure. The only guard who goes out of his way to see Chan is Big, who brings him food and offers to help him pack. He offers to sit with Chan the night before to watch a movie. Chan surprises himself by saying yes. He didn't realize how much anxiety he had over everything until he was presented with the option of Big leaving or staying for a while.

Big drives him to the airport the next morning. Chan's father lives in London, and it will be a long flight. Big surprises him with some books and downloaded movies and shows on a tablet to help make the flight go faster and for him to take his mind off of things. It's something Chan needs. He doesn't particularly like his father. For the longest time, he hated him. He is starting to question why he agreed to do this. When he sees his father - sick, dying, and still as nasty as ever - Chan wonders if he might kill the man before the cancer finishes the job.

But there are some good things about going back to London. He sees his grandmother, who is somehow in much better shape than his father despite her age - and much nicer. Chan doesn't see how the two are related. He also catches up with a few cousins on his father's side, as well as their children. However, the best thing about being back in London is surprisingly the people who reach out from Bangkok.

Mainly one.

At first, Chan is curious, slightly critical, and surprised that Big has his personal phone. It's normally against the rules outside of certain circumstances. But then Big says that Chan isn't on duty to enforce the rule and that Porsche is surprisingly soft and empathetic when it comes to the technology rule. Chan having to leave to tend to his estranged, dying father made Porsche even softer and he convinced Kinn to do a trial run of letting the guards with seniority keep their phones so they aren't isolated from their friends and families.

While Chan has some concerns about the change, he doesn't make calls to express his criticisms. If that is mainly because he looks forward to Big's texts and calls everyday, then that's his business. He tries to stay professional and treat it as an employee checking in, but Chan finds himself talking to Big about things he hasn't spoken to anyone about. Chan even finds himself not caring about what time they talk, despite the six hour time difference. Big has a business dinner he needs to detail security for? Chan doesn't mind setting his alarm for 3 am so Big can call him and let him know everything went okay. Big can't sleep? Chan doesn't mind texting him while he feeds his father breakfast.

He prefers it.

When his father goes downhill quickly, has mere days left, and Chan is experiencing complicated feelings over the matter, only Big can ground him and make him feel calmer.

"He's going to die soon. I want him dead, but I also don't."

"I know."

"I already started arranging the funeral."

"Kinn mentioned he is on standby to get plane tickets in order to fly out. He and Porsche want to support you. Korn too, I think."

And since Chan isn't conducting matters at the moment, he can't just schedule Big to accompany them. All he finds himself doing is vulnerably asking if Big could make sure he is on their security team for the trip.

"You are one of our most trustworthy guards," Chan gives as an excuse, "I trust you to make sure they are safe."

"Is that the only reason, sir?"

Chan doesn't give Big an answer either way.

But when the funeral happens, only Korn and Pol fly out. Chan is confused for multiple reasons, and he can see that Pol does not want to be there. When Chan texts Big to see what is going on, he doesn't get a response. When he asks Korn what is going on, Korn just dismisses the concerns and says there were some minor mishaps but to focus on his family.

He ends up cornering Pol later that night.

"Khun Korn sent a few men to a get-together in order to spy on the Bianchi family. They didn't come back. Kinn and Porsche are trying to track them down and don't want to worry you when you are dealing with all of this-"

"Who? Which guards?"

"...Gear, Third, and Big."

The news makes him feel sick. He calls Kinn and Porsche incessantly until they finally give in and respond. He knows he comes off as more demanding and panicked than he ever has before, but he can't take the time to calm down. He doesn't even want to stay for the funeral. He wants to take the first flight back despite Kinn's promises to track them down and get them home safe.

And he certainly doesn't want to stay and accompany Korn back as his fucking guard, not when he is the one who sent Big.

And so he doesn't. He visits his grandmother late that night, tells her something happened and that he's leaving, and that he's sorry. His grandmother asks if it has to do with the guy he has been talking to, and he admits that it does. She surprisingly gives her blessing and he takes an early morning flight without saying a word to Korn.

When he arrives and turns his phone back on, he sees that he has several missed calls from his boss but he can't find it within himself to return them. He goes straight back to the compound and sees that Kinn and Porsche have both been made aware that he was likely coming back without notice. Porsche tries his best to give reassurances while Kinn promises to calm Korn down.

Chan frankly doesn't care. All he wants to do is get to work and track down Big.

Chan doesn't expect it to take months, nor does he expect Korn to tell him to let the matter go, that the guards can be replaced.

He also doesn't expect to quit on the spot. But since the guards can be easily replaced, Korn should have no issue finding a replacement for him. It's the first time in a while he has seen Korn look surprised - maybe even regretful - and it is probably the first time Korn has seen him this angry. While Kinn and Porsche promise to keep looking and ask him to please reconsider, Chan tells him he won't be back until Big is safe.

He only remembers to add Gear and Third as an afterthought. But by that point, Porsche's gaze becomes more knowing, and so does Kinn's.

Chan goes solo after that. He has more than enough money to live comfortably, and he doesn't need much to feel comfortable. Kinn and Porsche call to check in and to give updates on their search. Arm does too, and so does Tankhun, who tends to praise him for standing up to Korn.

Korn doesn't call once, although Chan doesn't expect him to, nor does he particularly care. All he can care about is finding Big, and it's feeling hopeless. Even when he flies to Italy to meet with a member of the family, they act like they have no idea what he is talking about. It's a wreckless meeting that leaves two people dead, and he gets no answers out of it.

He only gets answers when Arm reaches out to tell him he has discovered a large transaction between the Bianchis and the Kalashovs. Not long after, the Kalashovs rented a private plane and had an even larger transaction with the Hanchars, a prominent family in Belarus known for sex trafficking. Arm notes that the relationship between the two latter families seems new. Despite feeling sick to his stomach, Chan researches them and finds his way to weasel into their inner circle. He has skills to offer, and he is currently unemployed. When he is able to successfully send word that the top security expert for Thailand's most powerful family is looking to relocate and practice his skills elsewhere, it doesn't take long for someone to track him down.

He plays hard to get and unyielding at first. Being uninterested in what would be considered incredible offers makes criminals intrigued, and making it clear he wants to be regarded differently than he was at his last place of employment gets them to invite him to an exclusive event, an event where he can "enjoy" the best of their business practices. They will even let him bid on something that catches his eye.

While he had hoped saying yes to that would lead him to Big, he didn't expect to have to bid on him once he is put on display - naked, blindfolded, and clearly drugged. It takes everything within Chan to keep his composure as he puts in bid after bid, going high enough to make the men who think they are his prospective employers raise eyebrows. But what matters is that he's the highest bidder.

When Big is thrown at him and Chan catches him, Big immediately goes for Chan's clothes. Chan holds Big's hands in place and requests a private room. While the men in the room try to say he should let them watch - that it's more fun for everyone when there is an audience to watch the winner play with his toy - Chan says that he wants his toy to be able to see him, that he doesn't like the blindfold, and he is willing to pay extra to have a night with him alone.

They allow it, and Chan and Big are escorted to a room in the mansion. Once the door is shut, Chan rips off Big's blindfold and finds his composure crumbling.

"It's me," he says, cupping Big's face, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long-"

"Would you like me on the bed or on my knees, sir?"

Chan pauses and takes the sight of Big in. He won't meet his eyes, he looks broken, and Chan is ready to go back out and kill every single man in the auction room.

"Neither," Chan says, "Look at me. I'm getting you out. You're going to be safe-"

"Would you prefer the wall? Or maybe the shower?" Big continues.

"Big, it's me," Chan says, shaking him slightly, "I'm here to HELP you, to get you out-"

"They're watching."

Chan pauses and glances around.

"There are cameras in every room," Big says, kissing Chan's face as he runs his fingers through his hair, "And they will keep watching until they are satisfied, especially for first time bidders. So tell me what you want and how you want to do it."

"I don't-"

"If you came here to save me, then you can't give them reason to think you might betray them," Big whispers into his ear, "They'll kill you. So I need to satisfy them by satisfying you. We'll go to sleep after and escape together in the morning. Do you understand?"

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

Notes for the plot after the rescue:

- Chan tries to make their first time as gentle and loving as possible. It's something Big is clearly not used to and is almost uncomfortable with. Chan isn't comfortable either. He hates that they are in a situation where they are both forced to do this. Chan thinks it is possible that Big is just paranoid by how much these people watch and give a shit about what they are doing. But then they get checked on by a high ranking staff and an offer for a partial refund is made if "the toy" isn't continuing to please Chan. Chan tells the staff to leave and they sleep together again. Round three happens on its own just before dawn. They haven't been bothered for hours and Big initiates, but it is all-consuming and desperate on both their ends because they both know they have the odds stacked against them as soon as they leave the room.

- The escape is brutal. While Chan is set on killing every person who put Big in this situation, Big is on a warpath and clearly holding onto a LOT of pain and resentment.

- They go on the run after they leave and somehow make it across the border. They don't stop driving until they hit Berlin and take a little time to rest.

- While Chan is relieved that Big isn't completely brainwashed like he initially believed, it's clear that he is traumatized. He routinely gets into a headspace where he assumes Chan wants sex. Or he gets paranoid that he will be dragged back to Minsk because Chan kept him for too long. He snaps out of these short episodes, but it's heartbreaking for Chan to witness at all.

- They share a bed, which comforts both of them. At first, Chan worries it may re-traumatize Big, but Big has nightmares that seem to not be as intense when they sleep together.

- Chan informs Kinn and Porsche of what happened. He doesn't get into the details, but he tells them that he and Big will not be coming back anytime soon, that Big can't handle a long flight right now. When Kinn asks about Third and Gear, the only information that Big has given is that they were too old so they were killed. Later, Chan learns they were tortured until Big cooperated with his new "job" and they were killed right after.

- When Chan thinks Big can handle a short flight, he gets him to London, where they stay with Chan's grandmother. She is very sweet to Big and makes sure he is comfortable. She recognizes he has been abused since she dealt with an extremely abusive and controlling husband.

- Kinn, Porsche, Tankhun, Arm, and Pol fly out after. Tankhun is surprisingly sweet to Big and eventually confides that he sort of understands what he went through, since he was hurt similarly when he was kidnapped. While Chan was aware of this, he is surprised Tankhun is taking the initiative to talk about it with Big.

- They take several days to go sightseeing. Chan spent his childhood and teenage years split between Bangkok and London. While he ultimately moved to Bangkok and stayed there since it let him feel close to his mother, he still has good memories of London, despite his strained relationship with his father. So Chan shows them around and the group feels like it is on even footing despite the strange dynamics.

- Korn isn't thrilled about two of his sons taking off for some extended trip to the UK. At all. It's only at this point that he starts calling Chan again. But Chan is still not returning his calls, which Korn isn't happy about either.

- The group catches onto something developing between Chan and Big. When Tankhun approaches him about the fact they cuddle together and share a bed, Chan is reluctant to talk about it but says he isn't going to push Big into anything.

- When they do end up slowly progressing in their intimacy, Chan is hyper aware of what Big needs from him and is very set on making sure they communicate with each other.

- Whether they go back to Bangkok or not is still up in the air. The same goes for their employment. Part of me thinks they might try lower risk jobs after they take the time they desperately need to relax and heal.

Anyway, that's all I have on the idea so far and it is still way more than I can do in a one-shot 😂 @chanbig @randomia-in-wonderland @fawndlyvenus I know you guys like this pairing, so you will have to let me know what you think of it!

[zhaohuis-lost-walnut]

Zechuan vs Lanzhou: What’s in a Name?

[vague spoilers up to chapter 181 I think? idk, it's not even a big deal probably]

One aspect of the story that has always intrigued me is how Shen Zechuan seems to compartmentalize "Shen Zechuan" and "Shen Lanzhou". I honestly wanted to make a post about that specifically, but I had a hard time finding the words to describe what I wanted to say ToT

But in my attempt to make that post, I realized something that I only really thought about while rereading my notes and various chapters: The way Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye use "Lanzhou" is very different. And it has been driving me insane!

So I guess I'm making the post I wanted to from the very beginning after all, and then some!

First, I shall establish how I believe Shen Zechuan sees "Zechuan" vs "Lanzhou". The short of it is "Lanzhou" is Shen Zechuan's carefully curated persona. But it isn't simply a mask; there are many scenes, especially in the later parts of the book, where Shen Zechuan goes into heavy detail about "Shen Lanzhou". Shen Zechuan describes "Lanzhou" as the only part of himself untouched by Shen Wei, fully belonging to himself. "Lanzhou" is like a symbol that keeps Shen Zechuan grounded. While Lanzhou can still be ruthless, it's a very calculated ruthlessness. Shen Lanzhou isn't striving to be a good person, but he's a least a lot more palatable than "Shen Zechuan".

"Shen Zechuan" has been "killed off", leaving an empty shell where only vindictiveness remains. In chapter 68, it's mentioned that "Shen Zechuan" has "a pure heart with few desires". But it is later established that that "purity" did not mean "sanctity", but rather, the idea that "a kindness given is a kindness given, and a wrong done is a wrong done" as said in chapter 72. "Shen Zechuan" is driven by revenge. In later chapters the story introduces the motif of "Shen Zechuan" needing to be sheathed and it's so beautifully well done. But it's not solely about controlling his anger and murderous impulses.

Shen Zechuan carries a lot of shame. And as much as he wants to act like none of his humanly desires remain, they do. He has people he cares about: at the beginning of the story, its only Qi Huilian and Ji Gang. But as the story progresses, his circle of those he's fond of grows. Even before he leaves Qudu he finds himself genuinely moved by Cen Yu's praise in chapter 75.

"Shen Zechuan" isn't just the angry remnants of a person wronged. "Shen Zechuan" is everything he represses. The bad and the good. In the first half of the story, Shen Zechuan is very detached from his actions. But in the latter half, especially as he gets closer with Xiao Chiye, he starts to not only criticize himself more, increasing his shame, but also confronts his feelings.

After meeting with Xiao Fangxu in chapter 163, Shen Zechuan worries that he won't be accepted because "Shen Zechuan" makes him untrustworthy. Thinking to himself: “Many of what he did in the past had their roots in impure motives. As long as he got his hands on it, he would fully exploit it. He called all of those “hypocrisies”, and they were even more atrocious before Xiao Chiye had come into the picture. That was why he could not—dared not tell anyone.”

Man, I hate it when my political strategies mess up my chances with the in-laws.

On a serious note, Shen Zechuan has had moments previous to this where he self deprecates, but I feel that after he had to confront himself in this way, (aka, his moves affecting his personal relationships) it got worse :D He continues to unpack this throughout the story with ups and downs and I simply love the way it's handled in the narrative.

Now, Xiao Chiye.

While I haven't made several notes and google docs marking down Xiao Chiye's use of "Lanzhou" like I did for Shen Zechuan, I will simply trust my brain to not lie to me for this post <3

I'm mostly focusing on them as a couple because that's what's been rotting my brain, but I find it interesting that Shen Zechuan refers to Xiao Chiye with many names interchangeably, while Xiao Chiye's sole term of endearment for Shen Zechuan is simply his courtesy name: Lanzhou.

Shen Zechuan goes by many names in his head, and he has different feelings about all of them. He's Shen Wei's Son. He's Bai Cha's son. He's Shen Zechuan. He's Shen Lanzhou. He's a pupil of the Ji Clan. Grand Mentor Qi's student. And so much more.

Shen Zechuan doesn't like every part of himself. He "accepts" that he can't get rid of them, and while he doesn't let them define him, he still wishes he could scrub such connections from himself. On the other hand, he loves everything about Xiao Chiye, and I feel like that affection is mirrored in his use of all his names: Xiao Chiye, Ce'an, A-ye, Er-gongzhi, Er-lang~

But Xiao Chiye doesn't box himself into different personas. He put on an a general act in Qudu, yes, but I don't think he necessarily labeled them the way Shen Zechuan did his own.

Xiao Chiye doesn't love "Lanzhou" while fearing or chaining down "Shen Zechuan". He doesn't resent the son of Shen Wei, nor revere the son of Bai Cha. The Lanzhou in Xiao Chiye's head is different from the "Lanzhou" in Shen Zechuan's head.

To Xiao Chiye, Shen Zechuan is Lanzhou.

There's no difference. Xiao Chiye loves him. All of him. Lanzhou encapsulates all that Shen Zechuan is in a singular word. He doesn't separate the "good" from the "bad"; they're all a part of you. Xiao Chiye is all of his many titles, but at the end of the day, those fancy words don't change how he sees himself and who he is at his core. And I think this reflects in Lanzhou simply being Lanzhou to him.

Of course, Xiao Chiye can tell when Shen Zechuan is putting on a front, and he specifically wants Shen Zechuan to feel safe enough to not have to keep up his mask with him. But he also finds Shen Zechuan's "Lanzhou" hot. We know this.

There are so many scenes where the love Xiao Chiye feels towards Lanzhou truly radiates off the page. And part of me regrets not marking down every single quote that made my heart swoon (though I did save some hehe).

I really hope this made sense ToT This has been brewing in my head for a minute and I'm happy was able to articulate it at least a little bit! Thanks for reading. Until me next bout of unwellness 🫡

[meat-wentz]

here’s a list of things i think have improved my life over the past year:

a good button up- honestly the most versatile item of clothing that provides year-round comfort, lets my body breathe, and looks stylish no matter what- it doesn’t matter the fabric as long as it’s soft on the skin and the fit is loose enough to provide some good old darcy flounce, can be dressed up or down and has not only helped in my every day comfort but also in easing the irritation of my skin (works well with sweat in the summer and dryness in the winter)

good underwear- insane how most underwear wants me to kill myself, so finding good affordable underwear is a necessity, personally i like parade

good pajamas- again it’s like important that my skin feels nice in something, i live in a high desert climate which is extremely drying and literally makes me the itchiest little thing on the planet, so good loose fitting silky pajamas make me feel like a little prince tucked into bed all nice and sweet

a robe- dawg i love a robe, not only as protection for my outside clothes when im in my house covered in cat fur, but also as an extra layer of warmth in colder months, and a nice thing to ahem, i’ll say it again, let my skin breathe while i dry off from a shower before i get dressed or while just lounging around the house with nowhere to be but still feeling like i want to be “dressed”

chia pudding- dude i eat chia pudding every day and honestly as someone w a lot of digestive issues and genetic digestive shit, chia pudding legit is my girlfriend and i love my slimy little girlfriend

BEETS- had a big beet year after realizing i can eat beets whenever i want. love a beet salad w arugula and spinach and some goat cheese and pistachios and dressing of your choice (i prefer a dill or balsamic)- you can literally have beets whenever you want idk why i only thought i could have beets on special occasions, idk i think i have a weird covetous thing with food i really like, but yeah idk who needs to hear this you can have beets whenever you want dawg its true

new glasses- go see your optometrist. i am bad about seeing any doctor for anything bc i hate it but being able to see is important go get your eyes checked and don’t be like me wearing the same prescription for 8 years and putting it off while seeing stars while i drive and squinting at subtitles

good luck charms- idk man i just like them it’s kind of just nice to have a little thing you put a small amount of faith in every day like a little token from a friend or a necklace you wear or a funny little keychain i like to have a little thing i can hold or fidget with that’s like yes aha it’s my little charm for everyday life that says to me im all good i think having a healthy dose of positive superstition is a nice thing to have

a good perfume- idk it’s just nice to get whiffs of yourself and be like omg that’s me, one of my coworkers has the same perfume and every time i smell her im like omg you smell so good and start blushing bc i realize that’s how i smell and it feels nice

just a good sunscreen dawg and not for all the anti-aging bs but bc it’s just a good thing to wear like if there’s anything ive learned after a lifetime in the desert it’s that dude just wear some sunscreen it doesn’t have to be fancy it’s just good practice and genuinely helps prevent the misery of sun damage from a day in the summer or a long drive or anything you have to do outside

a solid refillable pen- tbh probably my best friend in this whole world is a good fountain pen

anyways i have a long track record of like denying my own needs especially when im depressed or upset which for the length of pandemic and my most recent relationship was something i really fell into and after feeling a bit more like myself and reclaiming a lot of the joy i’d lost, these are some things that helped me ground myself in the world and feel a bit more comfortable being joyous and re-finding what’s important to me (feeling like the food i eat doesn’t want me to kill myself, writing, feeling confident in being a person in the world, seeing clearly, etc etc etc)