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yuujispunches · 1 month ago

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Pls can you do a gojo or nanami and drunk reader

Tequila fueled ~ S.G.

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Summary: mixing tequila and the man you’ve been in love for vos knows how long isn’t a good combination and it’s even worse when you don’t remember the next morning.

CW (content warning): mentions of alcohol, drunk reader, miscommunication trope, some cursing and fluffy ending.

AN: Hi guys! I’m so excited about starting doing requests so I hope I made this one justice. I chose to do this with Gojo because I recently posted one with drunk Nanami but I can still make one with drunk reader and Nanami if you guys are interested 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time the faculty at Jujutsu Tech had gathered for a night of drinks and decompressing, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the energy in the air after a particularly grueling set of missions, or maybe it was the fact that you had been strategically avoiding Satoru Gojo for the better part of last three weeks and were now forced to share a room and, inevitably, air with him.

You weren’t avoiding him on purpose, not at first at least. It was just too much lately. The shared mission, his over the top approach to literally everything, the way he always seemed to make you laugh as if he thrived off hearing it. You were painfully in love with the white haired idiot and you just didn’t know how to handle it anymore.

You had been pretty successful at avoiding being alone with him, maybe it was all doomed from the start or maybe, just maybe, it was because Shoko had handed you a second tequila shot while whispering in your ear. “You’ve got that Gojo look again.”

“The what?” You blinked, already halfway into the citrus salt rim before the liquid hit.

“The Gojo look.” She said, settling beside you with her drink. “Like you’re trying to calculate how many drinks it would take for you to either confess or strangle him.”

You made a face. “Shoko, I’ve had one shot and three drinks. Give me at least two more before I start doing emotional calculus.”

She laughed. “Fair. But you do know he stares at you like a lost puppy, right?”

“Gojo?” You snorted. “He stares at everything like that. It’s called being a narcissist with ADHD.”

“Okay, sure.” She drawled. “But narcissists don’t get awkward every time you call them out. And he’s only got ADHD when you’re not around. When you’re in the room, it’s laser-focus.”

You blinked at her. “What are you implying?”

“I’m saying he’s hopeless, and so are you.” She patted your hand. “But I believe in tequila.”

You didn’t realize how fast time passed until Nanami stood to leave, muttering something about people his age needing sleep, and Ijichi tried to wrangle several wayward second-years who had somehow ended up at a karaoke bar across the street.

Gojo, of course, was holding court. He wore his blindfold tonight, but it had slipped slightly up his forehead, letting the light catch in those unfairly pretty blue eyes.

He laughed at something Shoko had said, which in itself was shocking enough, and you caught yourself smiling at the sound. It was unfair. He was unfair. Too tall, too loud, too casually charming. And worst of all, too kind in a way that felt unapproachable.

And somehow, entirely within reach.

You downed another drink.

——————————————————————————

You weren’t drunk enough to forget how much you liked him, but you were just drunk enough to forget how much you shouldn’t say anything.

So when the cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, a little wobbly but determined, you didn’t expect Gojo to follow you.

“Hey.” He called, casually stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Going somewhere?”

“Fresh air.” You said. “My brain is... fizzy.”

He grinned. “That’s one of the better drunken metaphors I’ve heard tonight.”

You blinked up at him, swaying slightly. “You make it hard to think straight, you know that?”

His brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t look amused like you feared. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You continued, voice light, maybe a little too light. “You’re always so... you. Like sunshine in a human body. And also a little chaotic. Like a raccoon broke into a museum of cursed artifacts and just decided to live there.”

Gojo made a choked laugh. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It is.” You said earnestly, taking a step closer.

That stopped him.

The streetlamp above you flickered slightly as the silence settled in. You swayed again, and Gojo reached out instinctively to steady you, his hands gentle at your arms.

“I mean it.” you added poking your finger against his chest.

Gojo was quiet. His eyes, wide and glowing in the pale light, searched your face like he was trying to find the joke, but there wasn’t one.

“You’re drunk.” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I am.” You agreed. “And you’re handsome and infuriating.” A giggle scaled your mouth.

He looked like he wanted to say something, then shook his head. “Did you campare me to a raccoon?”

You leaned into him, resting your forehead briefly against his chest. “Maybe. But they’re cute, kind of dumb and weird but cute.” You hiccuped and kept giggling to yourself. “Your hair is white maybe you can be a snow raccoon, do snow raccoons exist?”

He let you rest there for a moment, his hand warm on your shoulder. “Come on.” He said softly and he tried to stifle a laugh. “Let’s get you home.”

——————————————————————————

Gojo managed to get the two of you a taxi, you kept mumbling nonsense into his shoulder on the drive to his apartment and Gojo had to physically refrain himself from recording it to use it as blackmail later.

His hand remained on yours and his arm around your shoulders, holding you against him.

“You’re warm.” You mumbled, voice a bit muffled against him. “I’m cold, why is it cold? Are you taking me to your territory snow raccoon?” You asked, eyes wide.

He just laughed and shook his head once again, he couldn’t help but find your drunk nonsense incredibly adorable, his heart doing summersaults every time you cling to him and gave him your weird compliments. “Maybe, don’t you like snow?” He asked playing along.

“Mhmm…” You hummed as you though hard about the answer m. “I don’t know but I like your hair though, it’s pretty and they look similar when the light is right.”

If you hadn’t been so drunk you would’ve been able to see the way Gojo turned red the moment you brushed your fingers through his hair clumsily, his breath catching on his throat. He tried to keep himself calm and promptly took off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. “We don’t want you having a bad experience the first time you see snow.” He muttered softly and you sighed contently as you rested your head against his shoulder once again.

——————————————————————————

When you finally reached his apartment you were almost passed out. Gojo carried you bridal style out of the taxi and inside his apartment, placing you gently on his bed.

He took his time, slowly taking off your shoes and getting a wet wipe from his bathroom to clean off your make up because he knew how you always complained when you forgot to take it off at night sometimes.

He remembered details, specially if they were about you, like the way you scrunched your nose slightly when someone said something you didn’t like, how your voice always softened when you were talking to the students, how you liked candies but not sweet pastries, how you always laughed at his jokes no matter how stupid they were. He loved your laugh.

He loved you but god was he terrified of it.

He stayed there for a moment, watching as you seemed to be asleep before he carefully moved to brush a strand of hair out of your face and you stirred.

“Don’t go.” You mumbled, small hand wrapping around his wrist. “Stay with me for a while.”

He froze, heart hammering inside his chest.

“You should sleep, you’re going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.” He said softly.

You protested in response. “Mmmh but I want to be with you.” You said, eyes still closed. “I always want to be with you because your irritating but you’re nice, you make me laugh and I love you.”

Gojo thought that maybe he was the one who was black out drunk, that this was just a figment of his imagination, nothing more than a dream. But it wasn’t, you were there, in his bed, wearing his jacket, mumbling how much you loved him.

He breathed deeply but before he could say something else he heard your soft snores and sighed.

“Please tell me again tomorrow.” He whispered, lips ghosting over your forehead before he got off the bed and walked to the spare bedroom.

——————————————————————————

You woke up the next morning with a mouth like a desert and a headache made of tiny mallets.

You also woke up fully clothed, tucked under a blanket, with a jacket wrapped around you that you definitely didn’t own.

You picked it up and caught the faintest scent of citrus and... Satoru?

Then your brain remembered.

Fragments, anyway. Gojo. Night air. Mumbling nonsense in a taxi. His hands steadying you.

“No no no no no no-” You whispered, rolling out of bed in a tangled mess of sheets and shame.

You were utterly horrified, as more hazy memories came back to you, calling him a snow raccoon, saying his hair was pretty… It was just bits and pieces and it felt like there was something more you couldn’t quite remember yet, tequila wiping your memory and making your head throb.

You had to get out of there, you felt like you couldn’t breath as you promptly put on your shoes and ran out of his apartment before he woke up, you couldn’t face him, not after making an utter fool of yourself because you had gotten too drunk.

At least you hadn’t confessed your undying love for him, right?

——————————————————————————

The answer was yes. Absolutely yes.

You dreaded the moment when you had to face him again, thinking that everything would just be awkward after that night. Your suspicions were confirmed, unfortunately, when you entered the staff common room and Gojo immediately stood, announced, “I have to be somewhere” and vanished with a pop of cursed energy.

You stood frozen in the doorway. Shoko looked up from her newspaper and sipped her coffee.

“Let me guess,” You muttered. “I made a fool of myself.”

“Oh, yeah.” She said, entirely unbothered. “It was romantic in a hot mess kind of way.”

You groaned and dropped your forehead to the nearest wall.

“On the plus side.” Shoko added. “He carried you home like a princess and gave you his jacket.”

You lifted your head. “That part I do remember.”

“And he didn’t seem horrified.” She pointed out. “More like... terrified? Which, for Gojo, probably means he short-circuited.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“I can. Honestly, I’m just surprised it took tequila and not a near-death experience.”

You collapsed onto the couch, burying your face in a pillow. “I’m going to move to another country. Change my name. Get a job fighting curses in the Arctic.”

Shoko patted your back. “Don’t worry. He’ll get over it. Probably.”

That “probably” didn’t inspire confidence.

——————————————————————————

The next week was unbearable.

Gojo was dodging you like you were radioactive. He walked into a room, saw you, and suddenly remembered he had an appointment with “literally anyone else.” He texted you only twice, once to remind you about a mission briefing, and once to ask if you had his hoodie.

You didn’t reply to either. You couldn’t bring yourself to.

You were convinced he regretted everything. That he thought you were a mess and that he hated you now. That you had said something so outrageous that even he was appalled.

That couldn’t be further from the truth though. He was avoiding you, that part was true, but he certainly didn’t hate you even though he wishes he could. It would make things easier for him than pinning after someone that he thought didn’t mean what she said. When he woke up to an empty apartment he assumed that what you said the night before was just fueled by tequila and that you regretted it so he just kept out of your way. For both of your sakes.

——————————————————————————

You made it two weeks before you snapped.

Not because Gojo had done something drastic but because he had done absolutely nothing. The man that didn’t know how to shut up and that was definitely too loud at all times was quiet. And that was deeply unsettling.

He wasn’t rude. He wasn’t mean. He wasn’t even cold. He was worse: he was polite. Stiff. Distant in the way people are when they’re afraid of something. Or someone.

And apparently, that someone was you.

You couldn’t take another silent mission briefing where he didn’t even look at you. Couldn’t bear another day of tiptoeing around a drunken night you were deeply regretted only because it was clearly tearing you both up.

So you did what any mature, responsible adult would do. You moaned about it to Shoko.

“He hates me Shoko.” You mumbled as you dramatically rested your forehead against the table both of you had been sitting at. “He really hates me.”

Shoko just took a drag of her cigarette and gave you a pitiful look. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“But he does! He’s been avoiding me ever since that night.” You groaned as you lifted your head and looked at her. “I don’t even know what I said that could be so bad!”

Shoko gave you a pointed look. “What do you mean you don’t remember?” She asked.

“I mean I remember bits and pieces but the night as a whole is I still a bit hazy.” You explained a bit confused by her reaction.

“Oh god….” She mumbled, realisation downing on her. “The other day when you asked I just assumed you remembered what happened!” She exclaimed.

That only made you even more confused. “Could you please elaborate on that?”

“You confessed, Y/N.” She said and suddenly it felt as if the world around you had stopped spinning.

“No.” You breathed out, horrified look on your face. “I can’t possibly have confessed to him while I was drunk off tequila. Please tell me you’re joking.” You pleaded.

“You did.” Shoko confirmed. “You told him that you loved him and fell asleep, Gojo told me. You were gone when he woke up, he doesn’t hate you he just thinks that you regret what you said because you didn’t mean it.” She explained. “I just thought that you remembered but ran away because you freaked out and that the two of you were just being idiots but would figure it out eventually.”

“Oh God.” You mumbled as the memories finally came back to you. “I think I really messed up Shoko.”

“Only a little bit.” She mused.

——————————————————————————

You spent the next few days mulling over what you could do to fix this whole mess that you had gotten yourself into. You finally had come down with a plan: corner him and try to explain what happened. Was it the best plan? No. Was it the only one you could come up with? Yes.

Specifically, you waited until he was walking through the main courtyard, towel slung around his neck, hair still damp from showering, and you intercepted him like an angry curse in yoga pants.

“Gojo.”

He blinked under his sunglasses. “Oh. Hey.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare pretend like we’re casual acquaintances who bumped into each other at the grocery store.”

“I mean... I was kind of going for coworker-who-once-accidentally-liked-a-post-on-your-Insta vibe, but sure.” He said with a half-hearted grin.

You crossed your arms. “I need you to please hear me out.”

He looked at the ground. That alone told you everything.

“Satoru.”

His head jerked up slightly at the use of his first name. You didn’t use it often. And when you did, it usually meant you were about to scold him or hug him. Possibly both.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You said.

His throat worked. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“You didn’t make it weird.” You said, trying not to sound as tired as you felt. “I did. You just made it silent which is driving me insane.”

Gojo shifted, suddenly finding the horizon deeply fascinating. “You were drunk. I didn’t want to make it worse by... pushing.”

“You wouldn’t have been pushing and even if you did you would’ve had every right to do so.”

He cracked a reluctant smile. “I mean, I’ve seen your temper.”

“Satoru.”

He sighed. “I didn’t think you meant it.”

You stared at him. “I did.”

The both of you froze. The words hanging heavily in the air for a moment.”

“I thought... maybe it was just the alcohol.” He mumbled. “A spur-of-the-moment thing. You woke up and didn’t text, didn’t call. I figured you regretted it.”

“I didn’t remember all of it right away.” You admitted. “I didn’t remember until Shoko told me what happened a few days ago. When I woke up in your apartment I just remembered bits of the night, I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t bring myself to face you so I ran. I do love you Satoru.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. And the weight of all those unspoken months hit you like a curse to the chest.

“I don’t regret anything I said.” You said, stepping forward. “Well except the snow raccoon bit, that part I do regret.” Both of you laughed sheepishly. “I love you. And I’ve been trying not to because it’s stupid and messy and complicated, and you’re you and I’m me and we work together, and if anything went wrong it’d ruin everything-”

“Keep going” He prompted with an unreadable expression on his face.

“But it’s too late for that now.” You whispered. “Because even avoiding you hurts more than the risk.”

Gojo was silent for a beat. Two. Three.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

You blinked. “What?”

He stepped closer, removing his sunglasses with a practiced flick. “I want to kiss you. Because I love you too. Have for longer than I’ll ever admit.”

You stared up at him, blinking in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” He said. “Like Shoko’s hangovers.”

You laughed, shaky and a little hysterical. And then you surged up on your toes, hands fisting in the front of his shirt, and kissed him.

He responded like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. Like he’d thought about it, maybe dreamed about it, and every version of it paled in comparison to this.

His hand curled gently at the back of your neck, the other slipping around your waist. He didn’t push, didn’t pull, just anchored, steady, soft. The kind of kiss that felt like a beginning, not a culmination.

When you pulled away, breathless, you stared up at him.

“Still think I didn’t mean it?” You asked.

Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “I don’t know, maybe I need some more convincing.”

“Good. Because I can be very convincing.”

He laughed, forehead dropping against yours. “You really are.”

——————————————————————————

That weekend, you and Gojo were assigned to escort a minor cursed object to Kyoto. Shoko, suspiciously, was nowhere to be found when you were packing.

“She planned this.” You muttered, folding your uniform into your overnight bag.

Gojo slung an arm over your shoulder. “Are you saying she set us up?”

“I’m saying she’s meddling.”

He hummed. “Then we owe her flowers.”

You gave him a look. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am.” He said with a grin. “I got the girl.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you still love me.”

Unfortunately, you did.

——————————————————————————

The Kyoto trip turned into a weird pseudo-date. The cursed object was barely a threat, more like a haunted houseplant, and the rest of the time was spent strolling the city, drinking too much vending machine coffee, and laughing over absurd mission reports.

By the time you were done it was really late, no more trains available and you didn’t feel like taking a taxi back. You wanted to stay with him for a bit longer so you decided to book a hotel for the night.

“Don’t be weird.” You warned as you claimed the left side of the bed.

“Too late.” He called from the bathroom.

Later, when the lights were out and the city glowed faintly beyond the curtains, you whispered, “I’m glad you followed me outside that night.”

Gojo turned toward you, voice low and warm. “I’m glad you told me.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Next time, don’t wait so long.”

You reached out, linking your pinky with his.

“I won’t.” You promised.

——————————————————————————

Back at school, the faculty quickly picked up on the change.

Nanami raised one eyebrow, said nothing, and nodded approvingly.

Utahime groaned and muttered. “Finally.”

And Shoko? She handed you both a bottle of wine with a note that said Told you so. Don’t screw it up.

Gojo poured the wine that night.

You clinked glasses and said, “To bad decisions that turn out to be good ones.”

He raised his glass. “To tequila.”

You laughed. “No. Absolutely not.”

He winked. “To us?”

You smiled. “To us.”

Tags: @hawkwithsocks @noooo-onee @pickledsoda @suna-yoshihara

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

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ladykailitha · 3 months ago

Text

Murder in the Heartland Part 5

Hey, all! Sorry about last week. Sometimes my ADHD really kills me on time blindness and executive dysfunction. And last week it hit me hard. So my delightful husband @mjwproductionsandfilm helped a gal out so I could make sure you guys had a chapter.

In this we have Eddie taking a nice trip to Hawaii and maybe getting what he was after.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Interviewer: You don’t think you owe fans your time? That’s a little selfish, don’t you think?

Steve licked his lips as he glared at her: No. I don’t. As I said, I don’t need the money to live. I have this beautiful home on this beautiful island. I want for nothing, I need nothing. If the success from my books were to dry up tomorrow, the only people who would mourn are those who want to read any future works I would have done.

Interviewer: What do you mean?

Steve shrugged: If people aren’t buying my books, my publisher isn’t going to want to print other stories I might have in me. Yes, this is the last Joe Kerry book, but I could decide to write a fantasy novel or even my own autobiography. But if there isn’t a market for it, it won’t get published. But I wouldn’t care. I enjoy writing and only started publishing my works because my best friend and now agent Robin Buckley thought that I should. So no, I don’t owe my fans anything.

Eddie had already spent on month of chasing his own tail when it came to the case he was working on. Murray had solved three cases in the time Eddie had taken on this one.

“You know,” Murray said as Eddie sat hunched over his notes for the billionth time, “I know the kid said he wouldn’t have had the money to fly anywhere, but maybe he had cash stashed away somewhere she didn’t know about.”

Eddie raised his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “So you think that maybe he did get on a flight somewhere?”

Murray shrugged. “Only way to find out.”

“Fuck.” Eddie was on his feet and grabbing his jacket and keys in an instant.

“Good luck!”

Eddie showed up at the airport with a winning smile and his PI license. And after some digging he was able to find out that someone matching Billy’s description had bought a plane ticket with cash. But it was to LA and Max had been adamant that Billy would have avoided California all together.

“If he was trying to to get to Hawaii,” the receptionist said, “he’d have to have a layover in LA. It’s the only way to get there.”

Eddie blinked at her for a moment. Hawaii would be the best place to get as far away from Neil as possible. He thanked her and went to a pay phone.

He called Max and told her he needed to get on a flight to Hawaii.

“You really think he could gone all the way out there?” she asked, skeptically. “He didn’t have that kind of money.”

He thought about it for a moment. “He would have if he sold his Camero.”

“Oh shit!” she said. “Yeah that would have gotten him pretty far even if he hadn’t got much for it.”

“I’m getting on the next flight to LA,” Eddie said seriously. “Then onto Hawaii. That will be the hardest part because there is more than one island, but I think we’re getting close.”

“Get to it, fly boy!” Max huffed with a breathy laugh.

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Eddie snarked right back. He hung up and then called Murray to let him know what was going on.

“You lucky duck,” Murray huffed. “Pack sunscreen and a lot of books. Try to make yourself look as tourist-y as possible. You don’t want to accidentally tip Billy off and have him do a runner on you.”

“Roger that,” Eddie said and then hung up. He bought tickets for tomorrow and then left the airport feeling optimistic he was on the right trail at the very least.

And even if it was a bust, he’d at least get a nice vacation on Max’s dime. It would be good to get out of Indiana for awhile.

Wayne laughed him off when Eddie offered to take him with, siting that he was too pale for Hawaii and to enjoy himself.

Eddie had been in Hawaii for two weeks and he was absolutely sick of it. It got hot in Hawkins, but this was ball sticking hot. He was started to get literal swamp ass, he was sweating so much.

He was on Maui, the last island he was willing to spend time on to look for Billy and he was giving himself until the end of the week to find him before he called it quits to give Max the bad news.

He was drinking a vodka and coke with pink, paper umbrella and trying not melt into the bar, when bartender got off and the new guy came on.

“That tattoo, Eddie from Iron Maiden, yeah?” the bartender asked, indicating to the tattoo peaking out of Eddie’s white tank top with the sides hollowed out.

The spider was on full display as well as most of his other tattoos, so Eddie really wasn’t paying attention. “Yep! You a metal fan?”

“Hell yeah, man,” the bartender said cheerfully. “Would love to see Maiden in concert.”

He looked up and into the crystal blue eyes of Billy Hargrove. His blond hair had been died brown and his face clean shaven, different from the little mustache he wore back in Indiana.

“That would be the dream,” Eddie said with a winning smile. “But tickets are just so hard to get these days.”

“I know, right?” Billy replied. “You have to camp out for days and even then there is no guarantee you will get there before the scalpers.”

Eddie snorted and took a sip of his drink. “You’ve got that right.”

Billy tilted his head and regarded him a moment. “You look really familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”

Eddie pulled out a photo and slid it over. “And for the record, no one knows you’re here. Just me and you say the word, I won’t know you’re here either.”

Billy’s eyes went wide as he slowly picked up the picture. He let out a sound that was a cross between a whine and sigh of relief.

“Max,” he breathed. He looked up at Eddie. “Max sent you?”

Eddie nodded and then slid over his business card. “I can’t say I know why you ran or how you even got here, but seriously. I was about to throw in the towel.”

Billy picked up the card and a huff of laughter burst from him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh god. That’s fucking hilarious and so on brand for Max.” He pocketed both the picture and the business card.

He wiped down the counter. “I just got on, but if you’re willing to hang around for a couple hours we can talk when I go on break.”

Eddie held up his glass and shook it with a grin. “Then you better keep ‘em coming!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Billy said with a laugh. He got another rum and Coke and set down in front of him.

Between other patrons Eddie and Billy talked about metal music and places Eddie had seen in Hawaii. Just keeping the conversation light so no one around them knew anything was out of the ordinary.

Finally Billy was allowed to go on break and Eddie followed him to an out of the way booth and slid in on the other side.

“It took a bit to remember you,” Billy confessed, fidgeting nervously. “I’d come to you for my weed and shit. So this is what you’re doing now? Fucking Magnum PI shit?”

Eddie snorted. “I wish it was that fun or thrilling, but no, it’s pretty boring shit for the most part. But hey at least I got a two week vacation paid for by a client so it’s not all bad.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Billy said with burst of laughter. “I guess being a PI in Buttfuck Nowhere, IN wouldn’t be as fun as it would be here in Hawaii.”

“Dude, I don’t know how you can stand it,” Eddie groused into his glass. “I have swamp ass like twenty-four/seven. It’s horrible. I want to go back to Indiana because at least the heat isn’t this.” He waved vaguely at the rest of the island.

Billy chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s probably because I grew up in Southern California, but I love it here. I’m happy. I’ve got a girlfriend, my own place, a job I enjoy and waves to surf every morning, like this is it for me, man. I really, really do love it here.”

“So if you don’t mind me asking,” Eddie said cocking his head to the side. “Like why blow out of Dodge? Why Hawaii? How Hawaii?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” Billy said after laughing hard. “The why? I told my dad that I wouldn’t report him for abusing Max if he cut town after I did and Hawaii seemed like the farthest I could go with out needing a passport.”

“That makes sense, like holy shit,” Eddie replied. “Neil is a fucking piece of work. I had to talk to him when Max first hired me and believe me when I say I had to shower three times before I got the slick off my skin.” He paused for a moment. “Reminded me of my dad. A real asshole.”

Billy nodded, grimacing in sympathy. “As to how, that’s still something I’m trying to figure out, because it plays out like a Hollywood blockbuster, man.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked, cocking his head to the side again as he regarded Billy. The other man was twisting in his seat nervously and picking at the label of his beer bottle.

“So there I was trying to hitchhike out Hawkins to at least get to Indy,” Billy explained. “And who should pull up in that fucking maroon Bimmer of his?”

“No fucking way!” Eddie said, leaning forward. “King Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington?” When Billy nodded, he threw himself back against the seat. “Well, I’ll be damned. So he gave you a lift to Indy?”

“He did more than that, man,” Billy said shaking his head. “His parents had just kicked him out and he was on his way out of town himself. He gave me money to get on a plane to anywhere I wanted to go.”

“Why would he do that?” Eddie asked in confusion. “You two got on like water and oil, I would have expected for him to give you the bird as he flew past ya.”

“Well considering we were both sporting black eyes and split lips...” Billy said with a half shrug.

Eddie took that to his chest like a bullet direct to his heart. He sucked in a breath and it caught in his throat as tried to take that in. “And then what? He drops you off at the airport?”

“He was headed that way anyway,” Billy said with a smirk. “Even promised to send my Camero my way once he got settled.”

Eddie’s eyes were bulging out of his head now. It just seemed so surreal. “Let me guess, it wasn’t even a whole month before you got the call that it had arrived?”

“Try a week!” Billy crowed, shaking his head. “I always thought Harrington had more money than sense, but it was nice to get my car back. Had to give her a new paint job, but it was still nice to be able to get around to find a place to live and get a job.”

“You’re own guardian angel,” Eddie agreed. “How did you know that Neil would keep up his end of the bargain?”

“I’ve got a friend in Hawkins who calls me once a week,” Billy said with a shrug. “I have a tape with proof the abuse, so all I have to do is send it to them, and he’s as good as arrested and he knows it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to move back to California.”

Eddie shook his head. “He wants Max’s settlement money. But your pal Steve-o set up so not even Susan can touch it.”

Billy snorted. “So he’ll wait until she turns eighteen, that rat bastard.” He threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

“Give me the evidence,” Eddie said suddenly. “You’ll have kept up your half of the bargain, and get rid of the rat bastard. I can even say I found it looking for you and when I realized what I had I turned it over to the police.”

“You’d do that?”

“I like the kid,” Eddie said with a shrug. “Getting Neil as far from her as I could would ease a worry I have.”

“Yeah,” Billy said rubbing his chin. “Then once he’s been put away I could contact Max and let her know I’m okay.”

Eddie nodded. “Sounds like we have an accord.”

Billy grinned and shook his hand. “So we do!”

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: THREE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @stripey82 @kroymu09 @chaotic-waffle

10- @tartarusknight @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #private investigator eddie munson #myst #murder mystery au

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lukesandromeda · 1 year ago

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gimme ur fav luke headcanons 😏

DATING l. castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

a/n: hi soleil it spooks me what u will do with this information but i also got so carried away with this for some reason and i did in fact not proofread it

• he’s a thief. so obviously as soon as you point out something in the store, uttering a quick “that’s pretty,” he’s nodding and pushing you along to go to another section of the store, mumbling something like, “sure is.” so as soon as you’re not looking he’s breaking the tag off the item and sliding it into his back pocket because he knows that if you were to see him, you’d scold him for his habit.

and when he hands it over to you later without an explanation, you’re asking, “how did you buy this?” and when he looks away nervously, you’re quick to lecture him about why what he did was wrong—but he doesn’t care; he gets to see the smile and appreciation from you.

• hearing constant “i’m so sorry” when he comes late to hang out with you. he’s the head counselor and has so many responsibilities to the point that even begging mr. d to let him go and hang out with his girlfriend will never work.

so when he finally does have the time to hang out, he’s exhausted—beads of sweat from sparring evident on his forehead as he takes the backpack he had slung over his shoulder and tosses it to the ground.

and he’s trying to give you as much attention as he can as he shares stories from his day with you, but his adhd’s getting to him and his eyes are so, so heavy and—you finally ask him if he just wants to go to sleep, and he’s jumping out of bed and changing into comfortable sleeping clothes.

soon he’s back in bed with you, comfortable and grateful enough that the few time he gets with you is not as stressful as what he had to deal with before.

• omfg sparring is the worsttttt with him. he makes you schedule two whole hours, yapping about something like, “i’ll just tell any other kids who wanna practice to wait until tomorrow,” and you’re telling him how it’s not fair for you to take that practice away from someone else, and he’s rolling his eyes and leaving your cabin after pressing a sloppy kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “see you tomorrow.” when you do see him tomorrow, he’s already working on his footwork and smirks as you arrive. the next couple hours are brutal. there are no breaks. at that point, why did you even bring a water bottle?

because every time he has you pinned down and you’re grunting, your throat dry as you look over to your water, he tilts your head back to him with his sword and gives you a look that tells you to focus.

and every time he gets his touch on you, he’s ordering, “again.” he wins. “again.” he wins again. “again.” so many times that you repeat the same moves, and every time, his sword is lightly pressed against your chest and you’re muttering in surrender.

after the fifteenth time of hearing the word again, you drop your sword to the ground and shove him, knocking his sword out of his hands. you break down into tears of frustration, and he’s quick to explain to you that he’s not trying to make you angry—just teach you how to protect yourself.

• usually he’s the one to hold you in his arms and let you speak your mind; he’s usually your rock. but some nights, when maybe a new camper has gotten claimed, or maybe someone got a birthday gift from their godly parent, he’s laying in the crook of your neck as he suppresses his tears against the soft skin there.

he’s talking for hours, babbling about gods know what. you find yourself wondering: how did he go from talking about nick, his newest cabin mate, getting claimed as a child of apollo, to talking about what he would name a dragon? you didn’t mind, because at least now he’s not crying about his father and the stupid quest he’d sent him on.

eventually, after a long day of a fake smile and the stressful teaching of a six hour sparring class, he falls asleep, his last words of “i love you” resting on his lips.

• he’d been happy the entire night—the blue team, his team, had won capture the flag again. he’d had so much fun at the celebration afterwards, (or at least it seemed,) but now it’s time to get ready for bed. it’s 1:30 am, and you’re washing off your makeup in the bathroom mirror when luke comes in, reaching for another rag.

he stands next to you in the mirror, watching your reflection for a moment before his eyes flick over to himself. his jaw clenches, his eyes trailing up and down the left side of his face before he swallows and wets the rag.

he begins to wipe the dirt and grime off his face, slowing down when the cloth traces the scar on his cheek. he drops the rag in the sink and sniffles, walking out of the bathroom and into the bed. once you’re finished, you join him in your room and climb into the bed. you lay down, and he rolls over and rests his face in the crook of his neck.

you wonder why it feels weird for a moment, and then you realize he has his head tilted oddly so that the left side of his face is hiding in the crook of his neck. odd, you think, considering he’d been complaining about neck pain the day before. you lift his head up, hand tracing on his left cheek and he freezes, body tensing.

“luke?” you ask, your eyes searching for a reason to his odd behavior. you look at where your fingers are tracing; on the scar. you understand, and for a moment, you see his eyes fill up with tears.

you swallow and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his scar before resting your forehead against his. he closes his eyes with a pained expression. moments pass, and then he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck again, but this time he doesn’t hide his scar.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x reader fluff #luke castellan x reader smut #luke pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x reader fluff #luke castellan headcannons

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honeyhotteoks · 5 months ago

Text

a little update on what’s been going on with me (sorry in advance for the rambling) and a little preview for the next chapter of across stardust~

thank you all for being so patient and kind (as you always are) between my posts, i know sometimes it takes me months to return to something and it means a lot to me that i get so many kind and encouraging messages in those periods of downtime. as far as what’s going on with me…. i’m doing okay, but have been working really hard on my mental health and on myself in general over the past year or so. recently though, things with my adhd have been pretty challenging, work has been overwhelming, and one of the tests i needed to pass for that job i unfortunately failed and need to retake. it’s just been one of those winters i guess, but i know that’s led to me posting less here and even less on twt. on top of that…. and i’m honestly a little nervous to even write this, my therapist and i have been exploring the possibility of an asd diagnosis, and if that’s something you’ve ever thought about or experienced yourself as an adult, you know it can be a lot and bring up a lot of emotions.

i don’t mean to come on here and emotionally word vomit, but i guess over the years that i’ve been writing i’ve always tried to be honest about what’s up with me and what that means for my writing and my readers, so i wanted to do that. as you can imagine, it’s just been a lot of things to process and i’m only really writing in short creative bursts right now as compared to before when it was pretty constant. i’m working on prioritizing my mental health, keeping myself regulated, and hoping that the creativity comes along with it.

as far as what that means for my work? things are coming, just slowly as per usual. however, this past week and weekend i hit a good stride with across stardust and i’m feeling pretty confident that chapter two is almost ready. i’m hoping to get some time to myself to finish it this weekend so i can post it early next week.

as a huge thank you to everyone who has sent me kind messages about this fic in particular, there is a preview under the cut of the next chapter. please note, this is full of spoilers, so if you’d prefer to wait, just don’t click under the cut.

thank you, i love you guys, and i hope you enjoy!!

across stardust chapter two; preview

…

You find a home for his coat in the entryway nestled on a hook next to yours, his shoes already placed neatly side by side with your sneakers. It looks so right, your life against his, and you let your fingers skate down over the back of his coat as you take it in, a smile pulling at your lips. He belongs here, in every way, and for the next three days you’d pretend his presence in your apartment was permanent, solid and immutable in the way it feels in your heart.

His coat, his shoes, and in a flash you see it all, flickers of a real life together. Toothbrushes, coffee cups, letters in the mail, his keys kissing yours in a dish by the door, books slotted together on the shelf, clothes tangled up in the laundry basket.

Your chest aches with need, but he just walked into your apartment for the first time, so you shake off those thoughts and turn to him, “What did you have in mind for tonight?”

“Honestly,” He grins, “being able to talk to you face to face is as far as I let myself get,”

“Way better than texting,” You smile back, “you want a drink? Beer? Wine?”

“Sure,” He nods, “Beer?”

You nod and take the two steps into the kitchenette to locate glasses and two cans of beer, calling over your shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

”I’m okay,” You hear him settle onto the couch and it occurs to you that you’ve never had a man in your apartment, at least in the sense of a romantic partner. For years you were going to their places, strangely protective of your own little haven between these four walls, and yet with Yunho you feel comfortable enough already not just to let him inside, but to give him your door code without a thought.

You blink at the realization, almost letting his glass overflow onto the countertop as you pour. How strange the last few weeks have been, how different you already are.

“How long have you lived here?” Yunho asks, and you let the thoughts about what it all means fade into the background as you turn towards him.

“Um,” You do the math in your head, “a few years? Almost four now,”

“It’s a great place,” He says again.

You leave the two empty cans on the counter and cross the room towards him, “Yeah,” you nod, “It’s small, but it’s nice and accessible, and in this area anyways I really can’t beat the rent,”

“Mm,” He nods, “I wish I could say I know what you mean, but idol life is strange.”

“That’s right,” You nod, “you don’t pay for your place?”

You settle onto the small couch next to him as he answers, “It’s part of our contract so it’s provided, but if we were to leave the group before contracts are up we’d owe the money back,”

You grimace, “That’s terrible,”

He nods but it’s with a slight shrug, “Some companies are worse, KQ being small has its benefits in other areas so that’s never been much of a concern for us,”

“That’s good at least,” You nod, “and they treat us pretty well, all things considered.”

“Did you ever work anywhere else?” Yunho takes a sip of beer and makes a noise of satisfaction at the flavor.

You smile and tuck your legs under you, angling towards him on the couch, “After cosmetology school I worked at SM for about a year,”

“And?” He asks.

“Awful,” You groan, “The pay was terrible, and the schedules were worse. It felt like being an intern,”

“And then you came to KQ?”

You sip your beer, nodding as you do, “Iseul and I went to school together, she got me in as soon as a position opened up, really vouched for me considering I had a smaller portfolio than she did at the time,”

“I’m glad she did,” He smiles warmly.

“What about you?” You ask, “Was KQ your first choice?”

He turns towards you on the couch, his knees pressed against yours and he rests one arm on the back of your couch, “Not initially,” he admits, “but I had two other competing offers, and something just didn’t feel right about either. Then I met Hongjoong, and I guess you know, that’s it,”

“A little bit of fate,” You smile.

“Mm,” He nods, “fate, maybe luck, I don’t care what it was, I’m just happy to be with you now,”

Your cheeks heat a little, and you look down at the popping bubbles on the surface of your drink.

”I just wish it happened sooner,” He admits, his hand sliding over the cushions to touch your forearm.

You nod and look back up, “I know what you mean, but, maybe that’s another thing fate got right, maybe we’re finally ready for each other now.”

He laughs, “What was the word Iseul used? Skittish?”

You sigh, “Yeah, she’s not totally wrong. I used to have terrible taste in guys, or maybe I wasn’t comfortable opening up, I don’t know, but,”

Yunho gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “I get it,”

You cock your head, asking him a silent question.

“I’ve dated a bit,” He explains, “and I always thought maybe it was me, but no matter how nice or compatible someone was on paper it was just…”

“Dull?” You offer.

He nods, “Like I was sleepwalking through it,”

Your stomach bubbles with a nervous thrill, your chest constricting with anticipation, “And with me?”

His mouth turns up in a small smile, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again, “I’m more than awake with you.”

“Me too,” You confess.

It’s quiet for a moment, Yunho’s thumb sweeping a soft line over the veins in your wrist, and then he exhales and drops his glass off on the table.

“Yun?”

He smiles at the abbreviation of his name and takes your glass away too, “As much as I want to talk all night, and I do, I think I might actually die if I’m not touching you after all these weeks,”

He reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you over to his half of the couch. You squeak in surprise, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest and another on the cushions, but you end up pressed up against him and almost laying across his chest. Your body relaxes into him instantly, and Yunho lets out a relieved sigh. This, this is what you had been waiting weeks and weeks to feel again, the sureness of his body under your fingertips, the way your heart seems to slow and soothe with every touch.

“Anyways,” His voice cracks a little, a soft smile on his face, “you were saying,”

You’re nearly nose to nose, close enough to hear his breath, to feel the thump of his heart under your palm. His eyes flick over your face, his lips part, pupils dilating wider with every passing moment.

You try to remember where you were in the conversation, but with him so close and his hot hands on you, it’s all like a distant memory and you laugh lightly, “I have no idea,”

He grins, his hand brushing your face, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheekbone, and then without a single conscious thought you’re surging forwards to press your lips to his.

#honeyhotteoks updates

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books-and-strawberry-tea · 6 months ago

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I don’t normally comment about booktube here. But I’ve just seen a video and I have to get some comments off my chest.

This video was about e-readers. And while the person has a huge collection of books behind them, goes on to explain that e-readers are so unnecessary, cause they are expensive. And if you are going to buy an e-reader, just buy an iPad cause they are similar in price….

I’m sorry but in what world is an iPad and an e-reader the same price?? (Or yk other tablets of a similar nature).

This person goes on to talk about how e-readers can’t install apps like Libby etc…are we just going to ignore the e-readers that run on android?? That function like a regular phone just with an e-ink screen??

I honestly gave up watching this video cause this person just sounded like they were pretty single minded on the topic. So here’s my two cents.

Pro’s for an ereader: (at least in my case)

1. E-reader’s are amazing for portability. Physical books can get very heavy, and although I love them, I hate taking physical books out with me cause I’m terrified of damaging them.

2. Books in my country, are incredibly expensive. You can go to the bookstore, and end up spending $50 AUD and get 1-2 books depending on what you get. Hard covers are usually $40+! Paperbacks can range between $17-$40 also. And if it doesn’t get printed in Australia?? Good luck. The only way I could get Hunting Adeline was to pay $65. Because whenever I ordered it from Amazon at $35, from America, it would come absolutely obliterated because they don’t package it in anything but a basic plastic mailer bag. No protection at all.

3. E-readers are much better for your eyes and don’t have constant distracting notifications and people trying to ring you. I have weak eye muscles. Always have. I wear glasses for this. And I used to read on my phone cause it’s what I have with me while I was out. But once I got an e-reader, I realised just how bad my eye strain was from my phone. E-readers have seriously improved my reading stamina especially since mine has the orange light feature. It’s not like we all don’t have an internet or phone addiction anyway. At least according to statistics I’ve seen in the past. Majority of us are trying to spend less time on our phones and more time doing what we love. And e-readers absolutely help with that. (Much better for my ADHD too honestly.)

4. I live with roommates, I have very limited space. So big book collections is just not something that’s possible for me. I’d love to, but again, space and money.

5. E-readers have given me the opportunity to read books that I’d never be able to get. Because of space reasons, money reasons, and the fact that Australia just does not get the wide selection of books that other countries do. We miss out so much. Some books, we have to wait YEARS for, while everyone else gets them on release dates. My e-reader has been such a huge investment for me, as well as an opportunity maker to give me the option to read books I’d never be able to get other wise.

I will clarify this by saying yes, I do have an iPad. But that was a gift. I didn’t buy it for myself. My mother very graciously bought it for me with her inheritance money. She went out of her way to make sure I had a good working device for university. That iPad was over $2,000 aud. My e-reader?? $250!!! HUGE price difference. And it has helped me save so much money in the process. Cause if I read the ebook, and don’t like it, that’s okay, refund. If I do??? Then I can absolutely go out and hopefully track down a physical copy. If that’s not possible?? I still have the digital version. That I can enjoy over and over.

No, I’m not ignoring the cons to do with DRM, and companies censoring ebooks, not at all. But I feel like either way there is still more pros then what this person was giving e-readers credit for. She sounded privileged honestly, she may not have a use for e-readers. But to be saying that you don’t need one, and that they are completely unnecessary….its just incorrect.

I haven’t even touched on how e-readers help others with disabilities to be able to access books. I have a friend for example that has been very unwell for many years now. And because of this, she has fatigue and strength issues. She at one stage could barely hold a book. But once she got her kindle, she was so over joyed cause she could finally enjoy books again. Kindles are so light, they have stands etc. It honestly reminds me of the people that say audiobooks arnt counted as reading and you shouldn’t do it. Sure, let’s just alienate all the people that can’t read or have vision impairment right? (For clarity, I’m being sarcastic.) Or how about all the cultures that past on the culture, history, legends etc all by word of mouth?? For centuries, way before anyone invented written script. But that’s a whole other tangent I can go off about later.

If e-readers arnt for you, that’s totally fine. But to say no one has a need for them, because physical books exist, is just closed minded. Just because you have the privilege of a huge book library and may not have use of an e-reader, doesn’t not mean that other people don’t have a great use for them.

Anyway, that’s my rant. I don’t like ranting online. But this just frustrated me so much. No hate to this person personally, I just think they weren’t open to the possibilities of how these devices are used and fulfil needs for other people that live differently.

If you read this, cool! I hope you have a good day. And enjoy reading what you are currently 💝

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callmrmorrow · 4 months ago

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rewatching invincible s2 right now and noticed some fascinating stuff about my goat, donald ferguson. especially in s2ep4, where he’s sort of figuring out that he’s kind of… not entirely human.

more specifically, how insanely detailed the tech he’s made of must be. in s1, this guy gets blown to bits. to our knowledge, this has happened at least 38 other times, all of which were followed by donald realizing he’s a robot, raging on cecil, and then learning that he willingly had his memory wiped… and then dying while saving others again. donald is a real and true hero, but there’s also something about harm reaction.

this metaphor is more commonly used to explain like… demand avoidance in adhd, where you can put your hand over a hot stove and even if you really WANT to push your palm down on it, your body won’t do it. it has a sense of internal self-preservation.

when donald is taking the switchblade to his arm to confirm that he still bleeds like a man, he hesitates. he doesn’t WANT to hurt himself; his robot body — and i’m pretty sure his brain is somewhat robotic, either that or cecil has clones of his brain courtesy of the mauler twins or something… — has a sense of self-preservation.

(or cecil programmed in safeguards to try and keep donald from spiraling over this again and again, but i don’t think he’s that way with donald. the guy isn’t a contingency, this guy is his friend — if not the closest thing he has to family.)

that self-preservation is a ridiculous thing to put in technology, along with an entire fake circulatory system. this isn’t even sinclair’s tech, which implies a genius — or a team of them — who can fucking make robots that are unaware that they are even robots, maintaining the traits of their human body and mind. (there is like no way the maulers didn’t have a hand in this dude, maybe the GDA has a mauler clone that they retrieved from a battle and reconditioned to help them out?)

but beyond that… he’s denied that self-preservation in almost 40 different instances, and continues to do so. donald is an INSANE character. he willingly has his memory wiped with the full knowledge that he will always be the guy on the front line, running in to save others.

give this man a MEDAL he’s like the real captain america here. incredible.

#invincible s2 #donald ferguson #donald invincible #idk why i can’t be concise i just have like… many thoughts colliding with each other like billiard balls #all the time #invincible #character analysis #sort of.

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smallpwbbles · 5 months ago

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Haiiii!!!! I know I already asked a question but I still have alot of things I wanna know about you! Since not only are you talented your vary funny anyways here's my question

1. If you could meet any of the sonic voice actors who would you meet

2. Who's signature do you want the most from sonic

3. Who use to be your favorite in sonic and who is ut now

4. How do you keep yourself motivated to draw do you look through tiktoks or maybe look up stuff online I gotta know!

5. What's your favorite ship in sonic and which ship do you dislike?

That's it! I hope you can answer my questions! Sorry if this is pretty long I got excited ngl!

No prob I’m in the mode for questions!

1. Honestly it would be awesome to see anyone, I could have met Roger and Colleen at a con but I wanted to see Knuckles VA since he also voiced Pigsy from lmk and I wanted to just chat to him about it

2. Not sure if this is referring to the VAs to actual characters? If it’s VAs then same as first question and if it’s characters then I say Shadow. I would legit pay him to leave an imprint of his fist in my face.

3. Before it was Sonic, honestly it can still be Sonic on some days since he’s the character I’ve hyper fixated on since I was a kid but I can safely say ever since the year of Shadow ended it’s defo him.

4. Guuuurl I don’t even know how I’m doing it at this point, I had to stop taking my adhd pills since mid Jan cuz of all the health scares I’ve had and even then the demon in me cannot be contained it requires me to make art like I’m gonna. Also it’s just fun, there’s nothing more wonderful than doing something fun and it helping you live.

5. Fav ship atm is Knuxadow, least fav ship is any of the Tails ships with older cast members ESPECIALLY Sonic like cmon

#ask

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mrmilomoo · 4 months ago

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The Evil Ingrained Within the Scars of His Mind

Simon Ghost Riley x Female Reader

18+ MDNI, trigger warnings for angst, dark! Ghost, non-graphic non-con, and brief mentions of PTSD, abuse, and Simon’s traumatic backstory. Dead dove, do not eat.

A/N: Heed the warnings. I am not responsible for the content you consume on the internet. Would love to make this into a series but I’m not sure my ADHD and commitment issues would allow such a thing.

Anyways, my heart longs to write devastating angst, but my mind refuses to create anything but nasty smut.😔

I want to hurt Simon so bad. I want to make this big, scary man break down crying like a little bitch.

I want to write about him suffering from the lasting effects of his trauma.

Horrific nightmares where he’s trapped six feet deep in the coffin with a corpse and forced to dig himself out again.

The irrational paranoia and hyper-vigilance that torments him every waking hour of the day and can only be quelled with violence and hard liquor.

Disturbing intrusive thoughts of hurting the people he cares about in grotesque ways.

I want to write about him seeing a pretty, little bird he fancies in a pub and having to fight the intrusive thought and impulsive urge to bend her over the bar and brutally take her apart on his cock. If his mind stopped there it wouldn’t be so bad. If his psych wasn’t shot to shit from the abuse from his father, the torture he experienced at the hands of Roba, and the atrocities he’s seen and committed in all his years in the special forces his mind probably would stop there.

It never does.

He can’t even have a relatively normal sexual fantasy about a pretty bird. His fucked up mind twists his fantasies and desires into something absolutely vile. A vile manifestation of his trauma that forces his cock to get hard at the thought of forcing his gross cock into a weak, defenseless thing. Leaning down to lick the salty tear off her soft cheek as he ruts his hips into her ass and listens to her cry and beg him to stop. Patrons of the pub watching on in either horror, lust, or a combination of the two as they witness the beast of a man fuck the poor girl senseless into the grimy bar top against her will.

It’s one of the many reasons Simon hates going to public places. Why he hates the forced leaves from duty. At least while he’s on base or the field he can busy his mind. Keep himself distracted and his mind out of the gutters of hell. If he has to go on leave, he prefers to keep himself locked away in his sad excuse of an apartment. Only contacting the outside world to order takeout. Baseline nutrition to sustain him as he spends his days wasting away, numbing his tormented mind with bourbon and seeking out temporary spikes of dopamine by smoking cigs and rubbing his cock raw.

It’s been over a decade since he’s last had a bird on his cock. Not out of choice, but instead a forced chastity born out of his suffering. He can’t stomach it. He’d rather deal with the burning of his throat, lungs, and cock than try to stomach the way the disturbing intrusive thoughts and urges make him feel. They make him feel like a monster.

They make him feel like he truly is his father’s son.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #dark simon riley #simon riley #smut #tw noncon #tw abuse #tw trauma #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfiction

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gothicflowers · 1 year ago

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Listen, Alex has been consuming my brain for weeks. It’s a whole issue (it’s not an issue, I love it really). So can I get something that’s maybe a little darker with him? Doesn’t have to be too dark, just maybe showing that side that isn’t the golden retriever we all love. Maybe a little more of that something that makes him such a good CIA operative.

Something protective/possessive perhaps? Can be NSFW or not, totally up to you.

Also, I hope you’re doing well! I know what it’s like to just need a distraction and get out of your head for a bit 💙

(MDNI +18)

Sorry this took me forever but I’ve been fighting waves of ADHD paralysis that even my meds cant fight. And I’m doing a little better, not fully healthy but I’m getting there❤️

ALEX KELLER IS A GOLDEN RETRIEVER.

At least that’s what he lets you see.

Because he doesn’t want you to know how dark and dirty he can be. Your family is fully convinced that he is the perfect man, which he truly is. Always getting you flowers and planning dates or small getaways. You clearly won the lottery with Alex. You see Alex as a night in shining armor, a kiss from the stars.

But Alex sees you as the dusk sky, beautiful colors that light up the sky before the light disappears. Soft delicate hands to hold, no blood or dirt under your nails. Your voice is the crackling of a fireplace in deep December snow that warms his soul. You’re the flower that blooms from the spring frost after he tills the ground with his bare hands.

Alex has fought for too long and shed too much blood in the name of justice and peace for anything to take away the one pure thing the universe owes him. You.

But sometimes dispute all his training and good intentions you see small glimmers of what Alex could be if he didn’t keep himself in check. Sometimes it’s in the way you end up bent over the counter with his fingers laced tightly in your hair as he rants on about this little bitchy attitude you’ve had since you woke up. He knows you love it and it feeds a dark pit of control that burns for you. Every thrust making you gasp. All Alex can grunt out of his gritting teeth is MINE. MINE. MINE. And is he gonna let you come? No. Not unless your pretty little eyes are welling with lust and love filled tears begging to cum. He’ll eventually let go of your hair and hold you by the jaw and let you confess that you just needed some dick, and he’s the only one that can satisfy your craving. Such a sweet thing, such perfection, so delicate.

Alex doesn’t mind letting other guys how possessive he can get. He didn’t like that guy that keep trying to dance with you at the bar. It’s surely a coincidence that guy slipped and hit his head on the sink. Other times it’s simply staring them down with a look that even Simon wouldn’t mess with.

When your ex tried to weasel their way back into your heart they abruptly stopped. They sent flowers, chocolates, jewelry, everything they could think of to win you back. You figured they finally got the message that you didn’t want them. But in reality your ex came home to a large envelope packed full of evidence of everything they’ve ever done, things you never knew about. Paired with a simple note “leave what is mine alone or else”.

Alex never wants you to know about what he truly does. Would you ever hold his hand again knowing how blood stained they are? Would those soft lips still say I love you? Despite his pure intentions he knows not all of his orders he’s been given were good. So he just tells you he works in surveillance. It eases your mind thinking he’s hiding on a roof somewhere, not down in a gunfight.

When he comes home after an extended time away you’re distraught with worry that he lost his leg. You will die never knowing the truth about what went down that day.

It’s not always that he wants to keep you in the dark, but sometimes it’s just truly classified information that you can’t know. And shouldn’t, it would give you nightmares. This man could rewrite history books if he shared what he knows.

Alex keeps hidden security cameras around the house. You don’t even realize they’re installed. He’s got extensive knowledge of technology and he used it to his advantage. He’s very good about keeping you a secret from his job but sometimes on those late nights he just needs to see you sleeping peacefully at home. And yes there is a tracker on your phone. Can’t lose track of his sweet little angel.

Everyone highly underestimates him. Too soft hearted, too eager, too naïve. The way his eyes darken and chest heaves as he stands covered in someone else’s blood shocks a room of experienced soldiers. A version of a man they rarely see, a version of a man you don’t know. Yet that version of him is who checks the house when he hear something at night. The version who corrects people who speak to you rudely. The version that growls in your ear from behind as your bodies tangle. The version who got rid of all of your problems. The Alex that will pull the earth apart and unleash hell to create a heaven on earth for you alone.

Alex is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

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