#good job also you’re getting sacrificed

[amimuu]

A bit of an awkward convo

[sscieloz]

Late night halloween interruptions

Yoo Jimin x Producer!reader

Synopsis: being one of Aespa’s main producers and songwriters meant having to work restlessly to deliver the best track of the year— even if it meant sacrificing a Halloween night out. however, focusing on work turns out to be rather difficult when a certain blonde idol keeps distracting you from your goals.

Warnings: smut, nsfw

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: you better wish I have a great fckn test thursday and friday. plus I didn’t proofread it and I WILL NOT. I still stuck at writing smut and I’m angry. also happy early halloween <3 blonderina lives forever in my mind and now in yours, too. ps: this was originally dom!reader but I changed my mind so it’s just a mess.

You were busy with the computer in front of you when you heard the click of the door, despite your heavy headphones. The soft, almost unnoticeable sound made you turn your chair to face the stranger who disturbed your work and dared to annoy you long after your work hours, late at night at the firm.

It wasn’t a total stranger, though. Staring back at you was Yoo Jimin, looking as angelic as always with her plump, rosy lips and porcelain skin. She had a sneaky smile on her face, tracing your desk with her featherlight fingers as she looked for any signs of dust.

“What do you want, Karina?” Your words came out harsh, unlike you intended to, but you still didn’t apologize. You could feel the tiredness wearing down your bones, the disturbance reminding you of the reason you were up so late in one of the company’s many music studios in the first place: so you wouldn’t be bothered at all.

Yet, she found you. You didn’t expect any less, with Karina hunting you down ever since she first laid her eyes on you, the day you were announced as one of the songwriters and record producers for the group’s latest comeback. Being only four years older, your lack of age made it easy to bond with all the girls: it gave them confidence to join in the making of their songs, too, getting deeply involved in the whole process of their comeback. The four band members trusted you and loved having you around, confiding their feelings and running to you whenever they felt bad or insecure. They all looked up to you— you knew it as much, and because of that, you were always pushing yourself to be the best, hardworking version of yourself you could.

Which was why you were always making sure to listen to their wishes and give them feedbacks on their ideas, so they’d grow as idols and song producers. You might not be as old in age as most of the producers in the industry, but you’ve already had your handful of successful collabs with well-known artists who did nothing but essentially praise you: you were skilled, and knew what you were doing, so it was only natural you exchanged some of your experiences with the girls.

Nonetheless, said closeness allowed the blonde girl to often stare at you like you were the only possible prey for a wolf who’s never eaten in its entire existence. Provocative dances, gifting your coffee orders each morning, stupid questions that kept you busy with her for hours, when you should be working… She certainly made your life difficult, toying with you while you tried as hard as you could not to indulge the idol. It was forbidden for employees to hook up with the company’s celebrities, after all, and you couldn’t risk losing your job.

“Good night to you, too, Y/n.” She greeted you, eyes darting around the place attentively. To make sure you were alone, most certainly. Jimin’s eyes lit up when her assumptions turned out right, happy to see you weren’t hiding some low-class hookup in the room. No, she’d have none of that. “I was just looking for you. You’re missing from the party.”

SM’s traditional Halloween party, currently happening many levels down the recording and mixing room, was one of the many fancy ballrooms hosted by the company at any given chance with intents to show off its supremacy and, of course, hegemony in the musical field. Your friends and coworkers tried getting you to attend multiple times, but you had shrugged them off. You liked hanging out with them, naturally, but not enough to put on a stupid costume and make small talk with preposterous, shallow people for hours straight. So you denied all the invites, knowing your presence wouldn’t be missed at all: they knew how to party by themselves, beyond everything.

As Karina reminded you of the current event, you took some time to take a proper look at her. Wearing a corset that enunciated her curves and the traditional red cape, along with heavy, black makeup contrasting perfectly with her long, blonde hair, Karina was impeccably dressed as Red Riding Hood. She’d even brought the damn basket with her, currently left hanging in the corner of the room.

She’d grown accustomed to the idol life, you noticed as the blonde stared at you with delight and confidence, certainly not innocent nor shy anymore as when she met you, nearly two years ago.

The old Karina would never wear such a thing. It made her stand out too much, and she loathed it, to have all of the attention and the stares focused solely on her. You still remember that same girl at last year’s Halloween party: dressed as a witch, wearing one of Minjeong’s old costumes, observing the older subaenims and idols with curious, scared doe eyes. Innocent, even.

And the young woman who looked at you like she was ready to devour you whole was anything but.

Karina didn’t mind your lack of manners, though. Leaning on your mixing table as if she owned it, she tried again, “Aren’t you coming to the party? Really? Come on, it’s Halloween! Don’t be so boring and live life for once, for God’s sake.”

You scoffed, coughing hard enough that you had to take a sip of your water to cool yourself, “The party’s for idols and shareholders.”

“And employees too, silly head.” She answered just as quickly, with a broad smile, dismissing all the dryness in your tone. This time, the look in her eyes reminded you of the Karina she truly was: tender, cautious, almost delicate. “I have a spare outfit, in case you want to keep the theme. You’d be the wolf, then.”

You turned your computer off, narrowing your eyes at her. Her intentions weren’t subtle: it was just as clear as clear water for anyone to see, but you couldn’t help it. You just had to have her begging.

For months, you’ve imagined what those pretty lips would look like all messed up with your juices, bruised from your bites and kisses. The thought of it being forbidden only fuels you with the need to ruin her even more. It makes you itch with how much you want to carve your name onto her skin, leaving her as nothing but a whimpering mess until no one— not even herself, could please her anymore. Only you would be capable of bringing her over the edge, from then. Your most feverish wish was to ruin her for anyone else.

You wouldn’t do it, though. It was forbidden, as said before, and you could lose your job for that. So, naturally, you wouldn’t.

She was fucking testing you, though.

“What do you want, Karina?” You repeated yourself, tone incisive, and yet she didn’t let go.

She was having fun with her girls before searching for you. It was her first year attending the party as an official idol, just as she’d always dreamed of. Nothing would piss her off, and she would get what she wanted.

And currently, what she wanted was to have the pretty producer everyone was whispering about around the hallways all to herself.

“It’s Jimin to you, Y/n.” She mumbled, brushing her legs over your arms. Her touch was gentle and patient, making you close your hands into fists to avoid pulling her by the ankles and taking her right in the mixing table. “And I just wanted to check if you wanted to have fun.”

“And it is unnie for you, dearest.” You reminded her, making the girl roll her eyes. She always made sure to forget to use honorifics when alone with you. “I am your producer, darling.” You added, pushing your chair a bit further and managing to keep some distance between the two of you. “So drop whatever plans you have and find someone else to toy with. I’m not falling for it, baby.”

No matter how desperately you wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her senseless.

Your words made her irritated, with Karina’s angelic face furrowing into an angry pout, as it often did when people didn’t immediately indulge her wishes.

A Spoiled princess, indeed.

“Come on, drop that superior shit.” She rolled her eyes, laying on her elbows without a care about the number of electronics placed over the mixing table. The angle favored her costume, and her perfect breasts, just as intended. You gulped, trying hard not to stare, knowing you’d be doomed if you did.

It was nearly impossible, though. To not drop to your knees and immediately indulge to all her wishes. Karina had always had this sweet, dangerous nature: with light kisses and faked innocency, she toyed with people as she wanted, making them give her it all, which they’d always gladly do. How could they not? When she was so polite and attentive, making sure to pay attention to whatever shit they were saying as if it were the most interesting matter in the world.

You know her better than that, though. Better than to participate in her game, no matter how fucking hot she looked.

You’ve always been told it was hard to know what went through your mind, since your face was always blank and serious, almost disinterested. Taking advantage of that, you smiled back at the defiant girl in front of you, placing your arms in each of her sides, but careful not to touch her.

The anticipation drove her crazy, you knew that much as you felt her shiver under you.

Karina hated how, at the moment, she was the one who felt like the prey. Although it thrilled her to feel like she was not fully in control of the situation, it also irritated her for a bit. However, she knew she’d get what she wanted in the end, of course, so she didn’t mind playing with her food for a bit.

“What do you want, darling?” You repeated yourself, using the same indulgent tone you do when talking to her and the girls about their new songs.

Patient, sweet, and attentive, just like you were during work hours and outside of them.

“I wanted to know if you were going to have some fun, finally. But I see the years have made you as boring as the others. Come on, unnie! Don’t I look pretty?” She managed to recompose herself, returning your smile with a venomous one.

“I won’t pamper you. If that’s what you want, go to your little followers. They’d be more than happy to tell you lies.” Your face was so close to hers, yet your words stated the opposite of how you felt.

Truthfully, your cunt ached, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid Karina might hear.

That little prey-game aroused you just as much as it did to her. It was a euphoric feeling, one that blew out your pupils and made the blood run through your veins, giving you that good kind of rush. Only Karina could make you feel such emotions without even touching you.

She was fucking gorgeous, and you wanted every single inch of her for yourself.

“So I’m not beautiful tonight?” She batted her lashes, arms resting on her sides like a crystal princess. “I’ve tried my best to look pretty. I’ve always wanted to be Red for Halloween, after all.”

“Do you like to be a prey, Jimin?” You opened a teasing smile, no longer sustaining your uninterested persona. Your fingers teased her collarbone, making the girl drop her head back to appreciate the touch.

You were doomed. Likewise, you knew that the moment she entered the room.

“To be desired.” She corrected, hands comfortably on your arms like she’s been doing this forever. “Chased, even. It’s fun.” She faced you, suddenly serious. “Will we have fun, Y/n-nie?” Those innocent fucking doe eyes of hers, staring expectantly at you.

You sigh, pulling her onto your lap as you inhaled her sickening perfume. Dangerous and sweet, lingering on her skin. You’d soon make it disappear, leaving her whole body drenched in sweat.

Just as she planned for you to.

Grabbing her beautiful corset, you took your time untying the lace before finally looking at her delicate frame.

God, you were going to ruin her little body entirely, until she was writhing and yelling for you to stop. “One time, and one time only. Got it?” She nodded, seaming pleased enough with your answer.

She’d carve her way onto your brain nice and slow, no worries. So, for now, a one-night stand would suffice.

“Just this once.” She hid her face in the crook of your neck, giggling with delight to have her wishes granted.

You finally gave in to your carnal wishes and kissed her, hard and urgently. You’d let her win, just once.

Because it’s Halloween, and she is indeed the most beautiful fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

-

“H-harder, Y/n. Fuck!” Karina moaned loudly, nails scratching your back to the point where thick red lines adorned your whole back. “Deeper, now.”

Like a queen, she demanded, making you roll your eyes. Her face was all fucked out, her hair unraveled and sweaty from the pounding, and she was absolutely sure her hips, ass and thighs would be all bruised from the way you were gripping them, carving the strap onto her as you made Karina your own personal fucktoy.

“You’re sure too demanding for someone someone who was begging to be filled minutes ago.” You taunted, carving yourself into the girl even deeper. Her hands were interlocked on your neck and her legs did the same to your waist, trying to steady herself at the intensity. “You know how much of a whore you are, right? Going up all those floors by yourself with that fucking strap in your basket just so I could have free use of all your holes.”

“Shut up.” She squeezed her eyes, gasping for air as your hands blocked her pulse point, down her neck. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”

You laughed at her brattiness: she’d never give up, truly. Removing your hands from her skin, you opened her thighs so the strap could reach deeper onto her sweet spot— which it clearly did, as Karina announced so herself. Her wetness was nearly drenching the whole table, making the sound of your thrusts even louder as you placed your fingers on her clit, not yet moving but applying just the right amount of pressure.

“Keep acting up and you won’t get to cum.” You told her, your free hand going up to pinch one of her voluptuous breasts. They were so bouncy and pretty, you just wanted to suck and mark them until there was not a visible inch of her milky skin that wasn’t covered in bruises.

Karina opened her dark eyes, being surprisingly gentle as her teeth scratched your lips. She sucked on your lower lip and, before you had any time to acknowledge, she bit it hard. You drew back, surprised, making her laugh.

“Oh, Y/n-nie,” She licked the blood from your lips, smiling at your reaction. With an unfazed gaze, the girl guided your wrist on her clit, urging you to play with it faster and even harder. She gave your cheek a little kiss, too, adding, “You’re damn cute when you think you’re the one in control.”

You hummed, deciding to focus on Karina’s pleasure instead of indulging the silly provocations she so adored to lead on. With that, you did as told, paying extra attention to her little hole as you returned to your pace, circling and toying with the blonde’s swollen sex until her body began to tremble and she collapsed under you, reaching her orgasm unannounced. You fucked her through it, allowing the dancer to gather her breath and enjoy the final hum of sensations.

Even completely flustered, Karina still looked gorgeous: her body all marked and bruised, a piece of art— your art, and her cunt wet and swollen, still all opened and ready for you.

“You look too pretty like this.” You breathed, verbalizing your thoughts before thinking straight, to which she let out a smile, extending her hand so you’d help her hop off the table.

“I know.” The girl playfully winked at you as her arms found your waist, embracing you in an spontaneous hug.

Of course, you should’ve guessed nothing Karina does is ever not carefully planned. In a second, you find yourself sitting on your chair and she was all over you, now taking her turn into marking her territory. Her mouth sucked and nibbled your clavicle until a line of hickeys are proudly shown, along with her scratches. You don’t mind, though. In fact, you love to have her using you as she wishes, her possessiveness heating up your core at each dirty thing she told you.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself, too, you know.” Although her tone is light, the murmur that follows is dense and drenched in possessiveness, “We’ll have to fix that, soon. No one can stare at my pretty toy like they currently do.”

“You wish, Karina.”

“I do, my love.” She licked her lips, groping your body like a woman starved. “Now lay down for me, will you? I’m quite hungry, and I need a taste of you.”

You scoffed at her words and the excessive sweetness in her tone, but as always, did as told.

Just for tonight, you reminded yourself. You’d relent to her wishes just for tonight. And only because it was Halloween, and you were working hard. You deserved a treat.

[bugsandboos]

reading everyone’s thoughts on the london special and marinette’s actions have given me a serious case of deja vu in relation to the s5 finale, here’s why

a very very VERY common reaction from the fandom i saw to the finale was “why are the writers letting gabriel get away with being a hero why isn’t he being held accountable horrible finale horrible writing i hate this show etc etc etc”

before i share my thoughts on this for like the thousandth time i just wanna mention i DID cry during the finale, partly because i was in shock and also because i HATED it. but now i genuinely believe it was one of if not the smartest thing the ml writers have ever conjured up and i just. fucking love it. (point is: i understand disliking it. that was me at some point, until i began to consider the implications of the “ending”)

similarly, a reaction i’ve seen to the london special (mainly from ml salters) is “why would the writers let marinette lie to the world when it’s so clearly morally wrong she’s such a horrible person she needs to be held accountable blah blah blah”

something both the s5 finale and the london special share is that THE ACTIONS THAT TAKE PLACE IN BOTH. ARE NOT MEANT. TO SIT WELL WITH THE AUDIENCE

NO writer on ml is trying to convince a fan that “gabriel was actually a hero because he made one selfless decision (that wasn’t even that selfless?????)”. NO writer on ml is trying to convince a fan that “marinette is completely right for hiding the truth about gabriel from not only adrien but also the whole world!!!!!! no one should ever find out!!!”

the entire point of the finale and special is to make the viewer uncomfortable, as we watch marinette sit with her questionable choices, watch adrien refer to his father as a hero and watch their class throw a party. none of this is supposed to make us feel at peace with the way this arc has concluded.

what people seem to be missing is that even if the s1-s5 arc has ended, the s6 arc is just beginning, CENTERED AROUND THE CHOICES THAT HAVE MADE US AS THE AUDIENCE FEEL SO UNCOMFORTABLE!! you’re completely ignoring the way the plot is set up if you think the writers are going to neglect gabriel’s storyline, because it is far from over.

i think it’s also important to mention that neither marinette nor adrien are at peace with what’s happened (even if that was implied during the s5 finale—the london special has provided us with this new information on their emotional statuses). marinette is clearly being eaten alive by guilt, seeking confirmation throughout the entire special that protecting adrien from the truth was the morally correct decision. adrien was obviously affected by his father’s death (contrasting the idea that he just “threw a party” without any emotional backlash), and will undoubtedly learn to grapple with his conflicting feelings on gabriel’s character throughout s6 (he sacrificed himself??? but he abused me??? but he saved ladybug and nathalie????? but he apparently assisted monarch?????)

POINT IS

no one is meant to be satisfied with the way things are in the miraculous universe at the moment. you aren’t supposed to want the truth about what really went down during recreation to stay hidden. if you feel uncomfortable with the current situation our main characters are in, GOOD! please stop the discrediting the writers, because your discomfort means they have done their job well.

[bvtbxtch]

Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x fem!reader (Prologue)

Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N

Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.

Word count: ~4.7k

A/N: this story is the weird brainchild of me getting a little inebriated and remembering how my divorced parents met and I was inspired. This is my first fic ever and I know it is NOT GOOD, but feedback is always appreciated. This is just the prologue to set up some context for our characters. I have a rough plan as to where this story is going to go but I am so open to suggestions!! Thanks for reading y'all.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

September 1985

Chrissy Cunningham was always perfect. And it was even more annoying because she was pretty, popular and nice to everyone she made eye contact with. That is also why you had been best friends since junior high when you both joined the dance team. When high school hit, she projected herself into the popular group by revolving your high school experience around cheerleading and the popular girls, where you happily sacrificed some of your valuable reputation to pursue both cheer and drama club. Chrissy was always there even though you were seen as less desirable as the other girls on the team. Even if she was in the back row, she would always be at your productions and would happily cheer you on. 

Although she was your best friend, she scared you a lot. She was on the path to a scholarship to her dream school, to getting scooped up by some picture perfect person and getting married and having her dream job. She would stay hot and pretty and perfect forever and as you were approaching graduation, you often worried about what was next for you - terrified of peaking in high school and amounting to nothing. Worried about not finding your own group of people, your own scholarship, and your own path laid out neatly like Chrissy’s was.

Eddie Munson, however,  was the opposite of perfect. If Chrissy was a sparkling smooth personality, Eddie was a jagged edge that very few people appreciated. He was a repeat senior who dealt drugs to all of Hawkins’ youth and  was unapologetically apathetic to the restraints that were supposedly placed on the senior class of ‘86. So when he happily worked sound for the drama club in exchange for free rentals for his DND club, many drama kids turned their noses up at him; except for you. You happily sat next to him at your first drama club meeting. There was something magnetic about him. From that first time you met him, you were determined to get to know him better. Your intuitions told you that he was going to be more than a background character in your own story. 

Two friends from opposite circles, opposite ends of the spectrum. As you and Chrissy left the gym fussing over new uniforms and team drama, Eddie was on the other side of the school picking his lunch kit out of the garbage, nursing a new black eye; and a freshman on his left pacing a rut into the hallway.

“Last time I stick up for you, Henderson. I swear to god…you’re lucky I have extra shirts in the drama storage.” The metalhead mumbled. His dark curls pulled back into a low bun as he dug further into the garbage can. 

“How was I supposed to know that it was Jason behind me? I didn’t mean to fall into him!” Dustin pouted. Eddie had picked him off the floor after Jason Carver had poured his gatorade down his Hellfire shirt. Eddie would never admit it, but as much as he loved his precious club, he cared for his freshmen recruits more. Jason, being the captain of the basketball team, and therefore the resident asshole, gave Eddie the shiner for his troubles, and threw his stuff in the garbage as an extra favor. You rounded the corner with Chrissy as you saw the two boys, both looking worse for wear. 

“Hey Ed - Oh my god your face!” You gasped as he turned around after finally fishing his lunch kit out of the trash.

“You should see the other guy” Eddie chuckled, and winced

“What other guy?” When he does not respond to your question you turn to the freshman who looks like he has seen a ghost. 

“J-Jason Carver. Eddie was just trying to save my ass.” Dustin squeaked, his eyes glued to his sneakers.

“Come with me”. You grab his hand and lead him to the girls locker room. Chrissy hot on your trails. 

After investigating to ensure no one else was in the changeroom, you lock the door and sit Eddie down on a bench while you enter the small infirmary to retrieve the first aid kit. Chrissy keeps her distance, but sits down beside him and flashes him a polite smile. Eddie feels a pang in his heart as he feels his cheeks start to burn red. Chrissy lets out a small giggle.

“That’s really brave what you did for that kid” Chrissy praised. 

“Ahh, there is no way Henderson would be able to take on that meathead. I gotta take care of my minions.” 

Chrissy laughs again, almost too loud. As you pace back to the two of them, you feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and both of them look away, blushing furiously. You take a long sigh as you open the first aid kit to find the ice pack and a bandaid for the small cut that has formed on Eddie’s cheekbone. He winces while you stick the bandaid on and you gently place the ice pack over his eye. His brown eyes glued to Chrissy’s as you tended to him. Once you finished, you cleaned up and the three of you returned to the bustling hallways of Hawkins High.

“Thanks for the help sweetheart. I just wish this was a spiderman bandage or something.” Sweetheart.

“Don’t sweat it Eddie. I’ll see you in rehearsal later” you smiled. Chrissy eyed Eddie up and down as you said your goodbyes and Eddie turned around to go to his next class. 

“I never realized how much of a charmer Eddie Munson is,” Chrissy pondered. You felt a pit in your stomach. As much as you loved Chrissy, Eddie was your friend first. So many of your teammates had put Chrissy as a priority over you, and you always felt like a drifter between drama and cheer - seeing as you felt you didn’t totally feel like you belonged in either.. Eddie was finally a person that you thought was yours, something that Chrissy couldn’t influence, someone that finally didn’t care about your background or where you fit on the food chain. But, lo and behold, it seems that everyone falls under the high school spell and everything always seems to be too good to be true for you.

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy I guess. He does the sound for the drama club apparently he’s got a knack for music. Walked into him playing some Black Sabbath on the guitar in the drama room.” You tried to retort calmly, but your hands were trembling. 

“Black Sabb -?Hmph. I think that is going to give me yet another reason to go to the drama room… Since he seems to be good with his hands” Chrissy giggled and intertwined her arm with yours, leading you to your shared math class. 

“Chris, please don’t just play with this one, I do really like him. I think he could be a really good friend.” Friend.

“That’s totally fine! Nothing’s gonna happen. I guess I just realized how cute he was…Maybe I should ask him to come watch us at the next game, or hang out…afterwards” Chrissy winks at you

“You’d be better off setting up a deal with him” you poke. She giggles as you both take your seats. 

You could barely focus in math, mind racing about how much Chrissy and Eddie bothered you. Was it really just the idea of him and Chrissy being better friends than you? Or were you jealous? That’s ridiculous because you liked Eddie as a friend. Just a friend. Chrissy could go out with Eddie all she wants. You aren’t the boss of her - or him for that matter. Then why are you stuck on the way your heart fluttered when he called you sweetheart? Why were you constantly seeking him out in the hallways?

No. It can’t be. You’re just friends. 

October 1985

Your body was radiating with anxiety during afternoon rehearsals.The pit in your stomach had grown to a full ache in your chest whenever you heard Chrissy talk about Eddie. The more you taked with him, the more you wanted to reach out and touch him, to hug him and tell him that he was the greatest, most interesting person you had ever met. But again, everything seems way too good to be true because every time you hung out with Eddie, Chrissy seemed to make her way into conversation.

 Eddie was teaching a freshman how to use the new sound board and you could barely get out your lines. All you could think about is Eddie and Chrissy in the locker room. Your performances were so uninspired that Mr. Taylor ended your scene rehearsals early. Your scene partner Eric gave you an apologetic pat as you both reunited with the rest of the drama club. Eddie sauntered up behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

“How’s it going superstar?” He leaned his chin on the top of your head.

“Hey Eddie. I’m okay, trouble focusing today. I’m totally flubbing today.”

“Hey, so I had a question for you… about Chrissy”. You tensed up and broke away from him. You turned to face him but could not look him in the eyes.

“Umm, yeah what’s up?” There comes that ache you knew all too well. You could see it happening now, him finally choosing her over you. 

“Is she single? What’s the deal? Is she dating any basket boys I should be worried about?” He poked at you nervously. You tried to let a laugh escape to ease the tension but all that came out was an exasperated wince. 

“No, she’s single.. Do what you want Ed.” you mumbled. You could feel the tears threatening to well up. You brush past him and pick up your bag to head to the gym. Eddie’s eyes follow you out, but he couldn’t bring himself to go after you. What was your deal?

You trudged off the field after an exasperating practice after an exhausting rehearsal. You were so excited to leave this day in the past, grab some junk from the supermarket with Chrissy and hunker in for an evening of studying. In the locker room, Sarah and Tiffany giggle and look at you and Chrissy. 

“Hey Chris, we were wondering if you wanted to come to the mall with us right now. We were going to pick up some outfits for Halloween!” Tiffany briefly meets your gaze and looks back to Chrissy. 

“Yeah sure!” the blonde chirped “We would love to! Y/N and I were just going to-”

“Oh, well we only have room for one..” Sarah sneered. Chrissy looks at you with her beautiful brows furrowed into a perfect pout. You knew she wanted to go with them. You felt bad for making Chrissy sacrifice her social standing to hang out with you. You knew she wanted to go, but would never tell you. You decided to take the fall for her… the undesired yet again.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I got lots of homework to do anyways” you brushed off. “I’ll call you later Chris.”

“I’ll come over after!” Chrissy lazily offered as you packed your bag up and left the locker room.

You left with holes in your heart. All you wanted was your people to stay yours. You didn’t understand why that was so difficult.

The shrill ring of your landline woke you from your desk - having fallen asleep while finishing homework. You flopped onto your bed and picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You yawned.

“Babe, I have to tell you about my evening!!” Chrissy squealed, she barely let you greet her.

“Oh, you mean the evening you were supposed to spend with me studying?” you jabbed. You felt bad for taking your insecurities out on Chrissy, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Oh come on now. This will make up for it.”

“Alright get on with it then.” You rolled your eyes and rolled on to your back.

“So you will never believe who me, Tiffany and Sarah ran into at the mall!”

“Ummm… John Cusak” You joked dryly. 

“No you silly! Eddie!” Chrissy yelped. “And do I have news for you!!”

You jolted up and immediately gave the call your full attention. This could not end well - either for Eddie or you.

“Sarah and Tiffany let you talk to Eddie in public?” you snorted. The insecurity seeping through the receiver.

“Well, kind of. We joked that the party next week would be best with something other than just the alcohol if you know what I mean” you could practically hear Chrissy’s eyebrows wagging. “So they dared me to go set up a deal with him… and I could see him practically drooling over me! I think he might like me, babe. And I think that I really like the fact that he does” she giggles maliciously. Attention. As kind and beautiful as Chrissy was, she was used to the attention, she thrived off of it. It worried you, the fact that there were hordes of guys that had been left in her wake so she could have an ego boost or something to do on a Friday night. 

“Chris, are you sure that’s, like, a good idea? What if you really hurt him?”

“Oh come on, Y/N, its just a bit of fun. Nothing serious! So anyways, I went over to his trailer about an hour ago and he asked for my number! Ugh!” Your excitement wasn’t reciprocated like Chrissy had hoped. Her squeals being the only ones that echoed between the two of you.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you excited?” Chrissy questioned. 

“I just - you’re both my friends, I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Ugh you worry way too much. It’s just some harmless fun! Loosen up, maybe then you could get some dates yourself!” she chided. You knew she was joking but it was the last blow to your breaking heart “ Anyways, I gotta get off the line just in case he tries to call! Love you!” with that you hear a click and the dead line. You sigh as you put your phone back on the receiver and flop back down onto your pillows.

You always hated halloween. It was an excuse for anyone your age to dress up in some sort of sexy reiteration of some sort of animal or cartoon character and to get sloppy drunk in someone’s trashed house, unbeknownst to their absent parents. That is exactly where you found yourself; Chrissy on one side of the couch, Tiffany on the other, you smooshed in the middle (as per Chrissy’s request)  and half of the basketball and cheer team sat in a messy circle on the floor. How you got yourself roped into spin the bottle, you would never know, but your makeshift devil horns were giving you a headache and as much as you loathed blacking out in random people’s houses, you were nursing your fourth drink of the night (and were definitely feeling the buzz). Between the noise of people talking over each other, the blaring music, and Chrissy constantly blabbing about how much time she and Eddie have been spending together, you felt like your brain was going to explode. The only option that you really saw for the evening was to forget all about it like half of the Hawkins High population at the party. 

Jason grabbed the empty bottle in the middle of the circle and spun it with vigor. Everyone waited in anticipation to see who would be the lucky girl to get to kiss the king of Hawkins high. The room fell hushed as you looked at the bottle, which was pointing directly at you. You immediately felt like you were going to throw up. Since that day in the hallway with Eddie, you always held some animosity for Jason. The last thing you wanted to do was kiss the guy who went after one of your other best friends. Jason chuckled and elbowed his minions on either side of him, all of them snickering deviously. He stood from his spot and stalked across the circle towards you. You chuckled nervously and went to get out of your spot on the couch. 

“Hah, don’t mean to kill the vibe, but suddenly I don’t really feel like playing anymore.” You push yourself off the couch and go to step over some people sitting on the floor but Jason grabbed your wrist. Hard. You felt the world spinning around you, unsure if it was your sudden anxiety, or the alcohol. You could hear the faint whispers of Chrissy and Tiffany behind you, and you were suddenly aware of the 20 pairs of eyes locked on you. You tried to pull away from him with no avail.

“Come on, don’t be a prude. Let me give you the best kiss of your life, seeing as the only person you’ve boned is the freak” He pulled you into his chest and held your face in his hands. He pressed his mouth to yours, trying to weasel his tongue inside your pressed lips. You finally got the strength to push him away with a cry in disgust. You wanted to slap him but your bones now felt like jello and your feet cemented to the floor.

“She hasn’t boned the freak! She hasn’t boned anyone!” Chrissy laughed, not realizing that her retort did more harm than good. You wished the ground would swallow you whole. Finally, you muster your strength to move. You didn’t want any of these assholes to see you cry, to give them the satisfaction.

“Thanks, Chris” you whisper before running out of the room and up the stairs to the crowded living room. You were desperate for some air. Everything around you felt like it was constricting you, choking you. All you could hear was laughter and your vision felt like it was pinholing. You slide out of the front door to sit on the steps. You breathe deeply, looking around to make sure that there was no one around before you let your tears fall.

Chrissy made an attempt to go after you. After rolling her eyes and giving Tiffany a tight smile, she lifter herself off of the couch and pranced up the stairs to the rest of the party. She looked around the scatterings of people, but didn’t see you. She slid her way through the hallway into the kitchen, where her eyes found someone else she had been casually looking for all evening. She stumbled towards a mop of chocolate curls and wrapped her arms around him, hands covering his eyes.

“Guess who?” she slurred. 

“Hey pretty girl.” Eddie turned to her to give her a proper embrace but quickly took a step back. “Don’t know if you want to be seen doing that to me right now” he chuckled nervously. Eddie understood what being seen with him meant and as little as he cared for his own reputation, he cared greatly for hers

. Chrissy looked him up and down and fully realized the metal head’s beauty. Pale skin kissed with dark ink, beautiful brown eyes that shone - especially when he talked to her, lean figure and crooked smile. She felt like her brain was going to short circuit.

“You’re right” Chrissy cooed. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private so we could talk” She took his hand and led him up the stairs to a quiet hallway full of closed doors. They rounded a corner and they sank down the wall to sit on the floor, Chrissy totally forgetting about her mission to find you and Eddie being blissfully ignorant to your conundrum.

You had collected yourself and knew there was no way you could stay at the party. As much as you loathed going back into the chaos and as angry as you were at Chrissy, you couldn’t allow yourself without letting her know that you were leaving and how angry you were. When reentered the house, the first faces you were met with were Jason and his posse of meatheads. You averted your gaze but heard their snickers anyway. You refused to give him the satisfaction or the tears, so you kept moving, keeping your eyes glued to the linoleum. The tightness of your chest multiplied with the number of rooms you checked where you did not see a perky blonde ponytail. You needed to find Chrissy; you needed to give her a piece of your mind; you needed to leave. But everything was deafening. Things were getting fuzzy.  Determined to get a grip and find your friend, you trot up to the top floor of the house, in search of a quiet place to collect yourself. You were met with a long hallway full of closed doors. You continue down the hallway, checking doors to see if you could find a bathroom. When you round the corner of the dim upstairs, your breath gets caught in your throat.  You see Eddie sitting on the floor, Chrissy in his lap, their mouths messily mashed together. Everything came tumbling down. The combination of alcohol and shock makes you wrack out a gasp of air. Both Eddie and Chrissy looked up but with very different expressions. Chrissy looked almost proud of her conquest, ignorant to the hurt you were already feeling towards her. Eddie, on the other hand, looked mortified - turning a bright red. The look of betrayal was clear across your own face as tears threatened to fall again. 

“Im - I’m going to go.” you don’t wait for either of them to get up. Eddie pushes Chrissy to her feet and gets up to go after you. Chrissy grabs his arm

“Eddie, wait!”

“Chrissy, I am so incredibly sorry, but I need to go make sure she’s okay” He goes to move away from her but she stops him again and pulls him in for a chaste kiss.

“Please don’t let this be the last time we do this” she whispers into his ear and drops his hand. Eddie turns a bright pink and leaves her with a smile.

You trudge through the house, tunnel vision honing in on the front door. The urge to vomit increased tenfold. Eddie catches up to you. You hear him calling out for you but you can’t turn back. Too embarrassed and heart broken (and drunk) to be able to handle what you saw in an unfamiliar place, in front of strangers nonetheless. You swung open the front door and ran down the front steps. Eddie trudges after you, clearly upset about what you had seen. There was no way he was going to let this get between the two of you. 

“Y/N Wait” He sounds desperate. You turn to him and roll your eyes. 

“What? Is it not what it looks like?” you laugh dryly. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, I’m going home.” You turn to leave. You couldn’t take another person pitying you. You understood where you were on the food chain. Yet another person to think of you as second best to Chrissy.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t walk by yourself this late at night.” Eddie chides. The alcohol had finally given you the bravery you had been needing for the past hour. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t sweetheart me when you are literally going to go back inside and suck face with my best friend. Just - go. Enjoy the rest of your night Eddie. I’ll be just fine.” The tears freely falling down your cheeks didn’t convince him. He takes a step towards you but you turn to walk away,

“Why are you so angry with me about Chrissy? I thought I didn’t need to explain anything to you, but you seem really fucking mad at me”. Eddie’s words stop you dead in your tracks. He’s angry? With you? Instead of actual vomit, the words that come out of your mouth leave uncontrollably.

“She doesn’t like you Eddie. She likes the attention. She doesn’t like you like I do. She doesn’t care about you like you deserve to be cared about. And she likes the fact that I care about you way too much. Chrissy has to have everything. I can’t have anything to myself, but yet again no one gives a shit about me, about how I feel. How much I care because as long as Chrissy is there, she will always be number one. You are just  another conquest for her and ,and she is just using you” You stand your ground, chest heaving. There is a sense of relief that you stood your ground but you immediately knew you said to much.

“E-Eddie, wair-”

“You think that I don’t know that she’s using me?”

“What?”

“Look, Y/N I am really really sorry that you care about me and I am really sorry that you feel that way about Chrissy. But I really like her. So I’m cool if she thinks that she wants to have some fun for now. I’ll let her as long as she’ll have me. Just -  please stop caring about me, sweetheart. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I want to be your friend but, fuck -I might be in love with Chrissy. I think I have been for a long time, but just finally let myself feel it..”

You stood in shock. Your heart shattered to a million pieces. Eddie’s did too. He loved having you as a friend and he loved having you in his life, but he couldn’t imagine kissing you like he did Chrissy, taking you on dates like he wanted to with Chrissy, going to prom like he wished he would with Chrissy. Not you. 

“Forget we ever had this conversation”. You turned on your heels and walked away. Hoping that Eddie would stop you and tell you that this was all a joke, that you were worth it, that you were his favorite and that he felt the same way about you. And even though being Chrissy’s friend was draining a lot of the time, you did  always have her. But everything changed in one night. This is the first night that you have ever felt completely  alone. You crossed your arms over your torso and started your walk home.

The next days and weeks went on as normal. Eddie seemingly didn’t tell Chrissy about your conversation because the phone calls never ceased. She still met you by your locker and she still intertwined her arm with yours when you walked. Eddie's gaze was aimed more at Chrissy and nights where you and Eddie normally hung out were now filled with secret rendezvous with the blonde. Although he still acted like your old Eddie, you felt a coldness from him. His smile never seemed genuinely happy and his eyes stopped glowing when he saw you. You kept quiet in efforts not to lose your only true friends at the school, but your shattered heart was refractured after every phone call you got from Chrissy, every detail you heard about their meetups or how soft his hands were or how great his kisses were.. You felt like you were crashing and burning but you kept up your facade to ensure you could salvage your fractured friendship, and every time you hung up your phone, you curled into your pillow and cried because although things were seemingly as they were supposed to be, you had never felt so out of place and isolated in your life.

You were waiting for Chrissy to come over, books sprawled across your kitchen table in anticipation for your study session for your semester finals. She was over an hour late.You sighed as you pulled out your flashcards and started to review in an attempt to salvage the time you had already wasted. You were interrupted by your phone ringing. 

“Hello?”

“Babe oh my god I am so sorry I am running behind but you are never going to guess what happened!!” 

“What’s that Chris?”

“Eddie Asked me to be his girlfriend!!”

Part 1 when?

[iliketangerines]

Can I request mkx kenshi and mk11 Johnny

Fighting over the reader’s attention and love plz you don’t have to if you don’t want to 😊

sharing a prize

a/n: pumping out these requests is not for the weak lmao. i don't think i can pump out four a day, but i'll still try my best to get through the requests without sacrificing quality because wow, i was feeling low-key burnt out after writing all five of these in a row.

pairing: kenshi takahashi x afab!reader x johnny cage

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, cowgirl, doggy style, praise kink, blowjobs, slight nipple play

you wipe away the blood and guts from your uniform, trying to get rid of the scent of the Netherrealm, and Johnny can't help but stare at you

you look beautiful, and well, he can’t help but remember at how effortlessly you had dispatched the demons

he really does have a type

he’s about to approach you, tell you good job about how you did on the field, but he sees Kenshi approaching you and place a warm hand on the small of your back

you smile at the swordsman and smile at his compliments, telling him that he also did a good job and that you two should go out for drinks

jealousy bubbles up within Johnny’s stomach, and as Kenshi leads you to the doorway as you talk about a new bar that opened up, the swordsman turns his head to Johnny and sends a smug smirk his way

Johnny clenches his jaw; oh, it was so on

the next few weeks, Johnny vies for your attention against Kenshi, bringing you expensive flowers and buying you new knives and weapons and upgrades for you

Kenshi brings you out on dates around the city, taking you around the city and explaining the restaurants and why he liked them

right now, Johnny sits next to you in the bar, placing a hand on your thigh as he tells you a corny joke and runs his hand through his graying hair

you laugh and take a swig of your drink, strong thighs flexing beneath Johnny’s fingers, and he wants them to so badly be wrapped around his head

Kenshi suddenly appears behind you and takes a seat next to you

the swordsman draws your attention away from the actor, and Johnny sends a strained smile to Kenshi despite the fact that the swordsman can’t really see it

but it seems that Kenshi can still sense it because he smiles back and orders you a drink

Johnny downs the rest of his whiskey and gets up from his barstool, tugging on your arm and dragging you to the dance floor

you laugh and dance, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck with his hands gripping onto your waist, and you both dance to the music, getting closer and closer to each other

Johnny grins at you and grips onto your waist, obsessed with the way you laugh

then Kenshi comes up behind you and places his hands over Johnny’s and grinds his hips into your ass, causing your hips to collide into Johnny’s dick

Johnny bites his lip, trying to contain himself, and Kenshi just sends a knowing smile over to Johnny and glances between him and you

Johnny hears Kenshi’s voice in his mind, flinching a little at the sudden voice in his head

but the swordsman just greets him and then offers up a proposal, that they both like you and that the both of them can have you, fuck you, love you if they just tell you

you would be open to the idea, he would know, and Johnny’s lips slightly part at the offer

you continue to dance, a little too drunk to care that you’re sandwiched between two men who want nothing more than to fuck you right now

Kenshi quirks up an eyebrow up at Johnny, and the actor bites his lip and nods

the swordsman smiles and pulls off of you, telling Johnny to meet him in your room

Johnny brings one of your hands to hold your chin, and you stare up at him with stars in your eyes

he tells you that he wants to kiss you so badly right now, and you smile up at him and ask him what’s stopping him

immediately he cups your face and brings his lips down to kiss you, groaning into the kiss as he continues to grind into you

you moan into the kiss and hold onto Johnny’s shoulders, whimpering into his mouth

Johnny pulls away, breathless, and he asks if you want to take it to the bedroom

you agree and pull him off to the dance floor, and Johnny follows behind

you open your door hastily, and the second that the door closes and locks behind you, you’re on him, not even bothering to go and make it to the bedroom of the small apartment

you moan into Johnny’s mouth, and the actor turns you both around so that he can press you into the door

he grinds his clothed dick into you, and you groan at the feeling and tug at Johnny’s hair

Johnny hears a cough from behind him, and he looks back to see Kenshi looking at the two of you

you squeak and ask him how he got here so fast, and Johnny whips his head around to look at you in surprise, a slight look of guilt on your expression

you knew Kenshi was in your room

because you were already sleeping with Kenshi

and had asked Kenshi to ask Johnny to fuck you

you send Johnny a sheepish look, but Kenshi taking hold of Johnny’s arm and dragging the both of you to the bedroom has Johnny’s mind too distracted to think any further on the subject

Kenshi sits on the bed, back pressed against the headboard, and he pats his thigh

you strip off your uniform quickly, and Johnny can’t help but stare at your figure and the expanse of smooth skin

you eagerly climb into Kenshi’s lap and kiss him, and Kenshi places a hand on the back of your neck and squeezes, an act that seems familiar to Kenshi and you

Johnny feels a bit out of place, watching you kiss Kenshi and whine into his mouth, but the swordsman turns you around so you sit in front of his lap

you spread your legs, and Johnny’s mouth waters at the sight of your wet pussy glistening in the low light of the lamp

Kenshi beckons Johnny to come forth and pats at the inside of your thigh, and Johnny wastes no time in crawling onto the bed and placing your legs over his shoulders

your thighs squeeze his head,and Johnny moans, digging his nose into your clit and pressing your hips into the bed

you whine as he presses long firm licks into your and hums into your clit, and Kenshi just coos at you, pinching your nipples with his calloused fingers

it causes your thighs to clamp around Johnny’s head, and his mind spins from the pleasure

he would be happy to die between your thighs

he fucks into your pussy with his tongue, moaning at the taste of your wetness, and he laps you up, drowning in your scent

your hips jerk into Johnny’s face, and his nose grinds into your sensitive clit, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine

Kenshi whispers into your ear, telling you that Johnny looks so good between your legs, that you’re taking it so well, that you should thank Johnny for pleasuring you

you let out choked moans, trying to thank him, but your words trip over each other as Kenshi pinches your nipples and kisses your neck while Johnny fucks you on his tongue

Johnny whines into your pussy at the praise, and your pussy clenches down on his tongue, and you cum on his face, thighs squeezing around his head

Johnny happily licks up your release, mind dizzy from the lack of air and how your legs squeeze him

but you soften your hold on him, and Johnny licks up the remainder of your release before getting up to kiss you

you whine into his mouth, and Kenshi moves his hand down to circle your sensitive clit

you buck your hips into Kenshi’s hand, trying to grind down on him, and he calls you such a needy little thing, that you should reward Johnny for making you feel so good

Johnny pulls back and admires your puffy nipples and goes down to suck and tease them with his tongue, but Kenshi stops him and removes you from his arms and gets off the bed

he tells Johnny to strip and lay down on the bed, and the actor hurries to do so, cock painfully hard from eating you out

he lays down on the bed, and you crawl onto his lap and grind your wet pussy against his cock

you do this for a while, moans spilling from your mouth as you grind your clit against his dick, and Johnny wants to lift you up and slam you down on his cock

but he waits, just putting his hands on your waist and gripping onto you tightly

finally, you raise your hips up and align yourself with Johnny and sink down

you whine at the stretch and bounce up and down slowly until you bottom out, and Johnny’s in heaven

your pussy is so tight and wet for him, and he can feel your cunt clenching down on his thick cock

Johnny moves his hands down to squeeze your thighs, admiring how the muscle flexes in his hands as you bounce desperately on his cock

you reach one of your hands down and rub at your clit, making you whine and moan, and Johnny coos at you, telling you look so good bouncing on his dick like that

Kenshi watches in the corner of the room, sitting on the couch and pumping himself as he watches you two fuck each other through Sento

Johny watches you lean forward on his dick, and you whine as his cock now hits that sweet spot inside of you, and your pussy drips wetness onto Johnny’s pelvis

but soon, your thighs burn and you can only grind down on Johnny’s pelvis and whine for him to please fuck you, you need it

Johnny can’t deny you, so he plants his feet on the bed and thrusts up into you

you moan and lean completely forward to rest on Johnny’s chest

Johnny tilts your head up and kisses you as he fucks into you, and his hands grope your ass and swats at the plushness

it’s enough to send you over the edge, and you claw at Johnny’s chest as you cream all over Johnny’s dick

the actor groans and buries himself inside of you and cums

he kisses you lazily as he empties his seed inside of you, and you whimper at the feeling of his seed leaking out of you

Kenshi pulls you off of Johnny, and you whine as Johnny slides out from you

the actor sits up in his bed, mind still reeling from the pleasure, but he watches as you obediently get on your knees and moan as Kenshi fists your hair and fucks your throat

he watches as the swordsman thrusts into your mouth, and he can see the bulge of Kenshi’s cock if he pays close enough attention

your hand dips between your legs and rubs at your clit, and you start to cry as you gag around Kenshi’s cock pummeling into your mouth

Johnny realizes that he’s on aftercare duty when he sees your tears, and he leaves the bedroom and scrounges around your apartment for a towel he can dampen and food and water

it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to try and make a presentable but filling sandwich as he raids your cabinet for food

he can hear Kenshi’s low moans and praise all the while, and when Johnny comes back to the bedroom, you’re face down ass up in the bed

Kenshi grips onto your waist, fingers digging deep, and he growls out praises as he fucks his and Johnny’s cum deeper into you

your muffled whines die down as Kenshi rubs soothing circles on your ass and slips out of you

Johnny can see the way both his and Kenshi’s cum drips out of you, and he wants to bury his face into your pussy and lap at your weeping cunt

but you sniffle in the bed, overstimulated and in need of care and affection, and Johnny brings over the towel and wipes you down instead

he turns you around slowly and sits you up, handing you a glass of water and the rudimentary sandwich he made

Kenshi tells Johnny that he did good, and the actor’s face flushes at the praise

the both of them cuddle up next to you as you finish your snack, and you fall asleep rather quickly, fucked-out and tired

Kenshi tells Johnny ‘see, i told you they’d agree to have the both of us’

Johnny rolls his eyes but goes to sleep with a smile on his face

[venuscrashed]

demon brothers x gn!ghosthunter!reader

i just started the game so please don’t come at me/ let me know if you guys want more of this au

warnings: based off phasmophobia, no pronouns used

Word count: about 600 in total

More Headcannons

Okay, now imagine the demon brothers with a ghost hunter reader. Who also happens to hunt demons, like in phasmophobia. They wouldn’t know your job at first but once you tell them you can only imagine their reactions.

Lucifer: He would obviously know your job from the start. Although, he was still a bit hesitant to accept you. He was cautious around you, always keeping a close eye on you. Whenever you would grab something he would stiffen but it wasn’t obvious. Later on he would be fine, even joke about it. “MC, is there any chance that you can do your ghost hunting thing on my brothers.” “If you don’t calm down I’ll have MC start an exorcism.” 

Mammon: Was literally like whaaat? Thinks it’s really cool, honestly. “Yeah! That's my human kicking ghost's butt.” Would somehow turn it into a money scheme. He would also cling onto you in haunted houses and such. “The Great Mammon ain’t scared. He’s protecting you because you’re not used to ghosts anymore.” Would totally tag along if you were to do some ghost haunting in Diavolo’s castle. “MC how do you use the glow stick?” “AHHHGHGHH it talked to me!” “Mammon it's a spirit box, it’s supposed to do that.”

Levi: If you stream it he would totally watch it. Would see you when you arrive and be like “OMD you’re that streamer that does ghost hunting!” Instantly becomes your number one fan. Would think you’re really brave considering he can’t talk to regular people. He hides and blushes whenever he sees you be brave…or see you in general. Plays phasmophobia with you, and is really good. He would be an expert at ghost chases and looping. One second into the house “It’s a Yurei. Let’s gag and go.” Becomes more of a professional then you.

Satan: When he first met you he felt some sort of nostalgia, like you two have crossed paths before. It isn’t until he sees your scar or necklace that his cult wears. It’s inevitable that you would come across satanic worshippers and be sacrificed, or be one. Asks you questions and even gives you tips. Gives you full permission to summon him if his cult members mess with you again. Would tag along on your ghost hunters and probably remember all of their traits. “It’s an Oni. The airball event tells me enough.”

Asmo: Again if you stream he would totally watch. Would totally brag about your guys' friendships. Would even post a pic of you two and caption it “Demon x Demon hunter: the best couple” if you two were dating. Would only tag along to act scared and hide behind you just so you can protect him and be brave. “Oh~ MC. It’s scary in here, the ghost keeps scaring me.” “Asmo you're literally a demon.”

Beel: Is like “oh.” He understands why you hunt ghosts but doesn’t really see the point. Would be like “I can protect you.” Would totally watch your streams while he eats, especially if they’re hours long. If he tags along he stays close to you so he can protect you. Would totally be the man in the van. He’s sitting there eating while watching the camera for dots. I feel like he would be good at motion sensors and para mic. Has good intuition to, “It’s the twins.” “Beel we haven't even been here for a minute.” “It reminds me of Belphie and me.”

Belphie: Would hate you more than he originally did. “Did Lucifer choose you to spite me?” Would complain about you for so long “But they’re dangerous.” Once he warms up to you he’ll joke about it. “Can you get rid of Lucifer with your demon experience.” IF he tagged along he would sleep in the van next to Beel. Maybe I would bring you the supplies but nothing past that. Don’t tell him you know but he plays your stream in the background to sleep. If he stays awake he is fully immersed into it and even laughs when you get scared.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Afterlife

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Fire On Fire - Sam Smith

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Simon thought that staying with you would be giving you a death sentence, he thought breaking up would protect you better than he ever could. He was so wrong in the end and regrets it deeply.

Word count: 6.966

Masterlist

Flashbacks are paragraphs in italics!

TW!! Mention of character death, suicide.

If this triggers you then please don’t read it!

Simon has never been easy, he has reminded you of that fact countless times. He doesn’t open up easily, he rarely shows affection, and rarely says ‘I love you’. But on the other hand, he’s insanely loyal. Willing to go to impossible ends to stick with you. He’s so incredibly protective, he’d go to any means necessary, especially in this line of work, to keep you safe from danger. Even if it means sacrificing his happiness, and letting you go. He’d never meant to just take your love for him for granted. No, that was never his intention. But when his identity gets leaked to the enemies, and they’re threatening him with you? Common sense flies out the window and he has one thing on his mind. Keeping you safe. Even though he knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself and others, he isn’t looking at this matter from a soldier’s point of view. No, he’s looking at it as your lover.

So when he goes home to pick some stuff up for you two at the barracks. For once, he’s actually in shock. His apartment, your shared apartment has been ransacked. No doubt by the people wanting to watch him burn. They have figured out where you live. Your safe sanctuary has become unsafe, and he hates it. This is his last straw. He’s doing this for your own good, he keeps telling himself that. He takes his time in the apartment. He grabs the stuff you’ve asked for and whatever he needs. But he also looks at every single object that reminds him of you. He glances around your shared bedroom. All of the little things remind him of the time you spent together. He looks at your guitar that is resting on the wall next to your dresser. You’ve always loved music, in all shapes and forms. You loved making your own music. Composing and singing songs for him. You loved listening to your playlists while working out. Playlists you made him listen to and he slowly grew to love. Now he can’t start his workout without having the music blasting in his ears.

His favorite song of yours though? Definitely the first one you wrote. You called it ‘Fire On Fire’, and you explained that it sums up your relationship perfectly. Both are insanely protective of each other, in the field you use it as an advantage. Always make sure to be paired up, you two get the job done efficiently without any casualties. When you two work it’s like a choreographed dance. You always know what the other is thinking. He remembers the times when he had nightmares, and let's face it, it happens frequently. You would softly sing this song to make him go back to sleep. And he would sleep without nightmares those nights.

You walk into his small office in your shared apartment happily and excitedly. “Simon!” He looks up at hearing you call his name. He casts a look at the papers waiting to be signed by him on his desk. He shoves the papers aside. Ready to give you his undivided attention. “What is it, lovie?” You grin at him, “I finished it! I finally finished it!” You say happily. He looks at you confusingly for a moment, “what did you finish?” You chuckle, “the song! Do you want to hear it? If you’re not too busy of course.” He casts another look at the papers before smiling up at you, “I’m never too busy for you, lovie. Let’s hear it.” You clap happily, “great let’s go!” You drag him by the hand to your bedroom. Where your guitar is resting on the bed. You grab it and sit down on the bed. You smile at him sheepishly, “I’ve figured out the lyrics for the whole song but I still need to figure out the melody I want to use. The chorus, however, is done. I’ll sing and play it for you.” He nods at you for you to continue. You play a few chords before starting.

“Fire on fire, would normally kill us.”

You start with a shaky breath. Slightly nervous of what he might think. As if he can read your mind. He smiles at you and motions for you to continue. He mouths, ‘you’re doing great.’ This sparks your confidence and you sing with a brighter tone.

“With this much desire, together we’re winners.”

You close your eyes as you let yourself get carried away by the song.

“They say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners.”

“But don’t let them ruin our beautiful rhythms.”

“Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me.”

“And look in my eyes.”

You open your eyes and glance at Simon, who’s staring at you with an awestruck look on his face. You smile at him.

“You are perfection, my only direction.”

“It’s fire on fire,” you hum, “fire on fire.”

You close off the song as you slowly stop playing. You put the guitar down, “so what do you think, my love?” Simon is still staring at you with an awestruck expression. “It’s perfect lovie. You outdid yourself.” You give him a shy smile, “I wrote it for you, to remind you of the love that I feel for you. That I’m always there for you, no matter what happens.” He stays silent before engulfing you in a tight hug. You widen your eyes but hug him back nevertheless. You could get used to this warm fuzzy feeling.

He sighs and leaves the bedroom. He enters the living room. He looks sadly at the overturned furniture and broken glass everywhere. Yet despite all of this, this is still your home. No matter how run down it gets, the memories will stay and be there forever. Serving as reminders from the once-happy couple. He looks at the pictures that are, surprisingly, still hanging on the walls. Pictures that have his face hidden, in every single one. You’ve respected his wishes by not putting up pictures with his face revealed. He looks at one particular picture.

Today the 141 was granted some time off. Bonding time for the team, as Price calls it. You’re all dressed casually. No one would guess that you’d be highly trained individuals looking like this. Well except for Simon, for he’s still donning his iconic skull balaclava. You’ve come up with the idea to have an outdoor picnic so that you all can relax and share food. Everyone prepared a little something for the picnic. John brought some sandwiches, Kyle brought lemonade, Johnny brought cupcakes, you and Simon prepared various fruits covered in chocolate. Your spot is surrounded by all different kinds of flowers. The big wide smile that you’re wearing on your face has made Simon’s entire year. After you’ve eaten. You decide that running around the flower fields will be a great idea. You beg Simon to run around with you, saying that it’ll be fun. Knowing Simon has a hard time saying no to you, you give him a small pout and he instantly agrees. Albeit a little begrudgingly. You drag him through the fields as you let out loud boisterous laughs while Simon is smiling behind his balaclava. You can tell by the way his eyes crinkle and sparkle in delight. Johnny takes a picture of you two sneakily. Knowing Simon would beat his ass if he found out. But in the end, it’s worth it, this will be one of your most cherished memories.

He smiles fondly at the memory that comes through when he stares at the picture. His smile slowly fades from his face. Maybe he doesn’t need to break up with you, you’re fully capable and he can protect you if anything were to happen. But what if something does happen? He could’ve prevented it all if he just didn’t let his resolve break. No, he has to do it for your sake. He’d rather have you hate him and be alive than you still loving him and dying because of him. He heads to the front door and takes one last look around. You’ll have to be relocated, and preferably far away from him for your safety. Your apartment isn’t safe anymore. He nods and closes the door behind him. He’s not ready to close this chapter but he has to. It’s the right thing to do. He heads back to you, reciting in his head what he’ll say to you in the meantime. Yet every time he chokes up and can’t think of what to say. He’ll have to wing it and hope he doesn’t look as pathetic as he sounds.

Once he makes it back to base, he’s on a hunt for you. He can feel his gut twisting in ways that make him nauseous. He wants to back out, so fucking bad. But then he sees your dead figure and then reminds himself you’d be happier and safer without him. Without the constant figure of death looming behind him. Following him everywhere he goes. He eventually finds you in the commons room with the rest of the team. You didn’t notice him walking in until he stopped in front of you. “Simon! You’re back, did you get the stuff?” He shakes his head, “can we talk, privately.” You give him a worried look but nod and follow him to wherever he’s leading you. He eventually makes it to his office and holds the door open for you. You step inside as he walks up behind you. You turn to him with a confused look on your face. “Did something happen?” You ask him. He nods his head, “our place got ransacked. Probably the same people who found my real identity.” You widen your eyes before narrowing them, “okay. We’ll deal with them swiftly then. The faster the better, right?”

Simon takes a deep breath in, it’s now or never. He opts for now. “I don’t think they’re stopping there. And let’s be honest, our progress is slow.” You raise a brow, “we can push the mission, maybe the higher-ups will let us focus on them.” He shakes his head, “that’s not happening. Listen, I think it’s better we go our separate ways.” The distraught look on your face makes his heart shatter. “Wait what? Why? We can go through this together! You can’t just throw away what we have now!” He shakes his head, “they’ve already breached my privacy. How long will it take for them to find out about us? Do you know how dangerous that is for you? It’s for your own good.” He refuses to tell you they’ve already threatened him by using your name. You can feel anger flaring up. “So what?! I’m fully capable of defending myself! You of all people should know this, Simon!” He can feel his temper rising, “I know! I am fully aware! Don’t even think that I doubt you because I don’t.” He says the last part softly. Not wanting to argue with you, not like this. You cry out desperately, “then tell me Simon! What are you so afraid of?!” He looks you in the eye, “you!” You get stunned by his answer, before you can retort he continues, “I’m afraid of losing you.” He says with a small voice. You stare at him with an incredulous look, “yet you want to break up?! You know how ridiculous you are sounding right now?!” He stays silent. You scoff, tears welling up in your eyes. “So this is it then? Just like that?” He nods, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to get hurt if you stay with me.” Hearing that he’s determined in his decision you nod, accepting it. “I’ll see you on the next mission, lieutenant.” You turn around, ready to leave his office. He reaches out for your arm, grabbing it softly, “please, it doesn’t have to be like this.” You whip your head around, tears falling, “then how do you want it to be? You want to stay friends? Fine! I’ll see you around the base then.” You ramble out, not letting him speak before storming out. A few tears fell from his own eyes. He rubs his eyes aggressively, rubbing his black face paint everywhere. ‘Good job, Simon. You’ve ruined the only good thing you had in your life.’ He thinks to himself. ‘It’s for her own protection’ is ringing through his mind like a mantra, torturing him with the thought of you.

The next few months are hell for the both of you. You’ve been drowning yourself in work and composing more music, while Simon has been drinking his mind away. Wanting to forget the immense hurt look you had on your face when he said those regretful words. The rest of the team isn’t blind. They can see something happening between the two of you. They’ve tried talking to you both about it but only to get the same words back, “he broke up with me.”, “I did it for her protection.” Johnny having enough of both of your sulking moods, decided to try and fix whatever’s been broken between you both. He knocks on Simon’s door before turning the knob and letting himself in. “I think the point is to wait for an answer before you let yourself in.” Simon slurs out his words as he holds a glass of whiskey. Johnny frowns and takes the glass from him, “you’re out of your mind L.T.” Simon scoffs, “tell me something I don’t know.” Johnny raises an eyebrow, “you need to get your shit together. You’ve been miserable without each other. Everyone can see it, fucking hell even the birds can see it, except for you guys.” Simon chuckles dryly, “thanks for the pep talk Johnny, you can leave now.”

He frowns at Simon’s response. “Leaving her in the name of protection is so fucked up on so many levels, Ghost. If anything she’ll be in more danger without you by her side than without you. So I’m not requesting you. I’m demanding you to get your shit together, apologize to her, and get back together already.” Simon stays silent, thinking about it. Knowing he finally got through to the lieutenant he leaves to let him figure it out on his own. All he needed was a little step in the right direction.

Meanwhile, you’ve been summoned by Price. You walk into his office, which happens to be next to Simon’s. “You’ve asked for me Price?” He nods and motions for you to sit. “We have intel on a secret base to the north of here,” he says while pointing to a location on a map. “We need someone to quickly get in and out and retrieve more intel.” You nod along, “I’m guessing you want me to go in?” He nods, “that’s correct. I’m warning you, this will be a solo mission. The lesser the better, unless you want Ghost to come along.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I’ll go solo.” You state. He nods, “you leave tomorrow at 8 in the morning with Kyle, he’ll be your exfil.” You nod and leave, wanting to prepare for the mission.

Morning comes and you gear up together with Kyle. You head to the small heli that’ll bring you to the site. You can’t help but have a sinking feeling in your gut, you can’t tell whether it’s the pre-mission nerves or if it’s the heartache you’ve been experiencing for the past months. You load up into the heli and close your eyes as you listen to the rotors whirring. Trying to shut down so you could shake off the feeling but to no avail. Usually, Simon would help you. But this will be the first time in a while that you’d have to do without.

You sit in the chinook nervously. Nervous for the upcoming mission. At this rate, you’ll make yourself sick. Johnny is sitting to your left, giving you a worried look. You wave him off saying, “I’ll be fine in a minute.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push it. You close your eyes as you try to calm down. You can hear a heavy thud coming from your right. You ignore it as you’re more concerned with your nerves. Suddenly a hand engulfs your own and squeezes it. You crack open an eye and smile once you’ve realized who it was. It’s Simon, who’s staring at you with warm eyes through his mask. He doesn’t need to say anything, he can convey it all with his eyes. Instantaneously you can feel the nerves leaving. All you need is Simon and you’ll be alright.

You open your eyes. The sinking feeling has not left at all, if anything it only increased. Making you feel slightly nauseous. You notice Gaz looking at you concerned. He crouches in front of you and takes a hand of yours in his own, squeezing it like Simon did. You give him a small smile, appreciating his attempts. But in the end, it just isn’t the same. The helicopter lifts off and soars through the air. As the base gets smaller and smaller in the distance, you can’t help but feel that it might be the last time you’ll see the base. You feel your phone vibrating in your front pocket. You open up the pocket and fish out your phone. You frown once you see the lit-up screen. It’s Simon, of course it is. You choose to ignore it for now. Whatever he needs to say can wait until you return. Right now, you need to focus and get yourself and that intel home. Eventually, the heli slows down as it prepares to descend. The doors open as you leave the safe space. You check your comms once more before nodding to Gaz. “I’ll be waiting for you here, don’t do anything stupid.” He tells you. You chuckle at him, “as long as you don’t get into trouble I won’t either.” He rolls his eyes. You give him one last look before leaving.

As you make your way to the hidden base stealthily you can’t help but feel like something is not right. ‘Come on. You’ve been on countless missions like this with the team. It’s been fine then, it will be fine now.’ You think to yourself. You close off your mind as you trek through the dense vegetation. Eventually, the base emerges from the treetops. You lay down as you pull out your binoculars from your side. You spot a less guarded spot, that’s where you’re going to sneak in. You get up and make your way down from the overlook. While keeping watch of the guards around the spot you want to infiltrate. You notice they don’t have a set patrol, which might work in your favor later when you start taking down guards.

You approach the spot and hug the wall. You grab your grappler from your pack and launch it onto the railing of the wall. As you ascend the wall you take another look around, if you’re not careful they could see you and raise the alarm. You quickly ascend to the top and take out the guard hanging around that area. You shoot the next two with your silenced gun. You don’t bother hiding the bodies, it should be a quick in and out. You lean over the wall as you look around for the next entry point. From what you remember of the map that Price supplied you with, the office with the documents should be near your position. You quickly scan the main building looking for the office. Your eyes land upon a room. Bingo, that should be the office. You figure you could quickly make your way to a side entrance and make your way to the office from there. Any other entry point would be too risky, resulting in you getting caught.

You make your way down with a rope and head for the fire escape staircase. No guards are stationed there so it should be a quiet way in. You ascend the stairs and quietly open the door that leads to the building. You keep your gun up in case. Noticing no visible threat you let out a sigh of relief and start heading towards the office. Luckily you didn’t come across any guards on your way to the office. You entered the office quickly and closed it quietly behind you. You lower your gun and look around. ‘Right, any important papers and any other valuable intel is what I came for.’ You remind yourself. You head to the computer and start downloading files from it to a stick. Laswell can analyze that data later. You start making quick work of the drawers. Pulling out any important-looking documents and storing them in your pack. Once you’ve run out of stuff to take, you unplug the stick and store it as well. You take one last look around the office. You hold a finger to your comm, “Gaz. I got the intel. Heading to exfil now, eta 20 minutes.” You hear a ‘copy that.’ from Gaz as you swing the door open.

Only to be greeted with a pistol aimed at your head. You recognize him as one of the leaders of the organization. “I’ve been expecting you, sergeant.” You notice he’s alone, essentially you could make a move and make your escape. But he would likely try and shoot, thus alerting the whole base. It’s either that or get captured by them, which would lead to your demise. Preferring your chances with the first option. You raise an eyebrow at him, “well you aren’t expecting this.” You quip as you shove his arm upwards, making him shoot in surprise. Not even 5 seconds pass and you can already hear footsteps thundering in your direction. You shove him and make a run for it, knowing if you try and go for the kill, his henchmen will surely kill you. You leap through the door and close it shut behind you. You take a quick look at the positions of the guards. They’re all swarmed around you. There’s no way for you to get past them without getting injured. And you definitely don’t have the stopping power to brute force your way through.

You quickly radio Gaz to update him, “I’ve been made!” A bullet whizzes by your head. Gaz surely heard it too. Well shit, your position is now known. Shortly after more bullets are flying your way. You duck down, you try to come up with solutions. You can’t think of any right now. You’re just going to have to make a run for it and hope for the best. You shakily bring a finger up to your comms, “I need to make a run for it, there’s no other way!” You inform Gaz. You hear rustling on his end, “negative! Stay there and preferably out of sight. I’m coming to get you out of there!” He shouts out. You widen your eyes in shock. That’s a horrible plan. You voice out your opinion, “are you insane?! What is one person going to help?! There are hundreds of them versus us two!” You can hear him cuss. “Fuck! Okay, you listen to me right now! Take as much cover as you can, I’ll try and provide covering fire. I’m not far from the overlook, give me 1 minute.” You peak over the cover, and grimace. You might not have a minute. Some are getting ready to storm your position. You think, the main entrance is going to be full of them. They haven’t found out where you came from so they’ll expect you to exit via the main entrance. The way you came in is going to be your only option.

“Okay, I’m in position, whenever you’re ready.” You hear his voice crackle through the comms. You inhale and exhale. ‘Now or never.’ You think to yourself. You point your gun at the small squad at the base of the stairs. You open fire at them, mowing them down successfully. You quickly run down the stairs and make your way to the wall. You feel a hot pain in your shoulder. You’ve been hit. You don’t even need to look, you were going to get hurt one way or another. Not feeling much from it you continue running to the wall, using trucks and containers as cover. Not staying too long behind cover otherwise you’ll get overrun. Sometimes you can hear thuds around you, signaling that Gaz is doing a good job at providing covering fire. You make it to the wall in record time and start climbing the rope. It’ll be a miracle if you don’t get more injuries while scaling the wall. You brace yourself for whatever might come your way. You make sure the rope is still secure by tugging on it a few times. Satisfied with the sturdiness, you start climbing up. You can hear multiple rounds go into the wall next to you. Sooner than later bullets start embedding themselves all over you. Your legs, torso, and shoulders. You wince in pain as everything starts to burn with every move you make. You grit your teeth until you make it to the top.

You rest for a minute as you assess your injuries. You count at least five bullet wounds. You’re not making it out alive, that’s for sure. You grimace as you face the harsh truth. “You got to move! They’re closing in on you!” You can faintly hear Gaz’s voice ringing through your ear. You move through the pain, you have to at least try to make it back. You grit your teeth as you pull yourself up. You grab hold of the grappler again and start descending. You run as fast as you can away from the base. Shit, it burns. It burns badly. You just wish you didn’t have to sit through this pain for long. You make a safe distance away from the base. You rest against a tree. You definitely can’t make your way to the exfil point, at least not on your own. You slowly sink yourself to the floor. Your vision starts to blur, and gunshots get quieter and quieter. Either they stopped firing or you’re losing your hearing. You bet it’s the latter.

You start coughing. You’re coughing up blood. Internal bleeding. Great. As the pain starts fading into the background, your mind runs rampant. You lean your head back as you stare up at the sky. You chuckle weakly, “I’m sorry Simon.” You say to no one in particular. You just somehow wish that he could feel that you’re sorry. You know it hasn’t been easy for him either. And part of it is your fault. You’ve been pushing him away. Drowning in your own grief, that you failed to consider his feelings. Tears slowly start trickling down your face and into the muddy ground below you. “I’m so sorry Simon, I still love you, so so much.” You whisper out. Not having any strength anymore. You slowly close your eyes, losing the battle between you and the blood loss. Little did you know that your comms were still open and Gaz heard everything. If you can’t say it to him yourself then he will make sure he passes your message to Simon. In your stead. But first, he has to find you. He runs around, desperately trying to find you. Eventually, he spots a faint trail of blood. Knowing it has to be you, he follows it. Once he finds you he shouts your name. You being unresponsive worries him. He holds two fingers to your neck. Trying to find a pulse. To his relief, he finds one. It’s faint, but it’s there. He picks you up and carries you to the heli and demands for medics to be standing by at base, ready to receive you.

***

Simon heads to your room and knocks on your door, “(Y/n)? Can we talk?” It feels so weird to call you by your name. He used to always call you ‘lovie’. He frowns as he hears no answer. He’s about to knock on your door again until Johnny speaks up, “she’s gone.” Simon whips his head around to face him. “What do you mean she’s gone?” He asks. “She went on a mission that Price assigned her to.” Simon stares at him, “when is she supposed to be back?” Johnny checks his watch and frowns, “she was supposed to be back 15 minutes ago.” Simon frowns, a late arrival usually means bad news. He storms his way to Price’s office. “Why did you send her alone? Why didn’t you send me with her?!” He asks coldly. He sighs, “she can get in and out quickly, that’s why I asked her. And I did ask her, she said no. She said she’ll go solo. Gaz is with her to provide exfil.” Simon gives him a hard stare and leaves the office. He has no choice but to wait for you, and hope for the best.

Multiple minutes pass as he waits anxiously for you. Eventually, a commotion stirs him out of his zoned-out state. Several members of the medical staff run by in a frenzy. They’re shouting medical stuff at each other that he doesn’t understand. All he hears are, “critically injured inbound!”, “bring blood bags!”, and “prep for surgery!”. Suddenly everything goes in slow motion. ‘Critical, surgery, blood bags’ those are the words that are swirling through his chaotic mind. He closes his eyes and curses to himself. You can’t die. Not you. Anyone but you. He regrets many things in his life. But this will probably be at the top of his list if you don’t make it. Fuck. Why is he just standing here? Why can’t he do something useful for you, not even for one second? He has let you down continuously, and he hates it. He hears more commotion. It’s you being wheeled past him in a gurney with the same medical staff by your side, with a blood bag hanging over you, and more of them in the arms of a medic. He watches as you get wheeled into the infirmary. The state of you almost makes him gag. How the hell did you even get out of there alive? After being so long in the military, he knows someone with those injuries will not make it back, or stay alive for much longer. It’s a miracle you’re still breathing, no matter how weak it is, you’re still breathing.

He heads to the infirmary to wait for you. He wasn’t there for you during the mission, the least he could do is sit and wait for you. That if you’re alive after surgery, he could give you a heartfelt apology. Something that he rarely does. He sits in a chair and holds his head in his hands. A few minutes pass and he notices Gaz sitting next to him. He sighs, “what happened?” Knowing Gaz is the only one who can provide him with the answers. Gaz winces, “Ghost, I don’t think you want to know.” He feels growing frustrated with Gaz’s answers, “I fucking asked, didn’t I? Tell me, I want names.” Gaz sighs but resigns to his wishes, “it’s the same organization. She needed to get into an office to gather more intel. Turns out this whole thing was a trap. They were waiting for her outside the office door. One thing led to another and the whole base was sent upon her. I tried to give as much covering fire as I could. But she still got shot, multiple times. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “not your fault, I should’ve been there,” he mumbles out. Gaz scoffs, “I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. There were way too many of them.” Simon gives him an empty look, “I would’ve gotten her out of that situation, at all costs.” Gaz shakes his head, “mate. I know how capable you are together but there’s no way you would’ve gotten out of there together in one piece.” He shrugs, “I never said I would get out of there, did I?” Gaz catches on to what he means, “are you saying you would lay down your life for her?” He nods, “she deserves to live more than I do.” Gaz can sense he doesn’t want to talk anymore so he drops it. Gaz eventually leaves, needing to debrief with the captain. Thus leaving Simon all alone.

Torturous hours pass by. He feels like her chances of surviving are dropping by the hour. Eventually, a trauma surgeon pops out of the double doors. He looks around before meeting Simon’s gaze. “Are you here for sergeant (Y/l/n)?” He nods, confirming his intentions. The surgeon drops his mask, showing Simon his grim face. “She’s alive, but she’s far from stable. We put her in an induced coma, to help her body recover from the injuries she sustained. It could last a couple of days up to weeks or several months. You may visit her if you wish. Try talking to her, it might stimulate her brain and thus make her wake faster.” Simon gives him a nod, “thank you.” The surgeon gives him a pitiful smile before leaving.

Simon enters the small room you’ve been put in. He frowns once he sees you lying on the bed. His breath gets caught up in his throat. He’s never seen you look so frail, fragile, weak, almost dead like. The only signs showing you’re still kicking are the monitor beeping and your chest moving up and down ever so slightly. He pulls up a chair next to your bed. He takes your hand in his. He has a million words to tell you. He wants to tell you how much he loves you, and how he took your love for granted. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, that he’s wrong for thinking breaking up would protect you. When in fact it’s the opposite. Every time he tries to convey these words to you, he can’t. The words get choked up, causing his sentence to become incoherent. So instead he opts for a simpler option, one that hopefully conveys all of his regrets in five words.

“I’m so sorry, for everything.”

The monitor beeps faster in response. He widens his eyes, you can hear him. He squeezes your hand. “I never should’ve let you go, lovie. It was a mistake on my part. When you wake up, I’ll take you to all of your favorite places. If you’ll have me back.”

During the next few days, it seems like you’re only regressing. Your body can’t keep up with all of the demands it needs to properly heal. Simon has been there, every hour, every day. The team has tried to drag him out to at least take a shower, but he refuses. Multiple what-ifs run through his mind. What if you wake up? And he isn’t there for you. Or what if you die? And he’s not there with you. It would break him. He’s not a fool, he knows your days are limited. He knows your chances of pulling through are close to none. So he stays there, talking to you and holding your hand. Squeezing it in intervals, to let you know he’s still there. He suddenly gets an idea in his head. What if he sings your song to you, would you appreciate that? Probably, he knows how much you love that song. So he sings.

“My mother said I’m too romantic. She said, “you’re dancing in the movies.””

“I almost started to believe her. Then I saw you and I knew.”

He starts tearing up, he might never hear you sing this song again. He might never hear your voice again. Your laughter, your giggles, your excitement. All of it. He might never hear them again.

“Maybe it’s ’cause I got a little bit older. Maybe it’s all that I’ve been through.”

“I’d like to think it’s how you lean on my shoulder. And how I see myself with you.”

He thinks of the domestic life you have behind the scenes. Away from the military. Where you would have movie marathons, forcing him to watch with you. He would pretend to hate it, but secretly. He adores the time spent with you. He thinks of all the times you would lean on him, no matter where you are. You would fall asleep on him, it’s the sense of safety that he gives you that puts you at ease. He starts choking up.

“I don’t say a word.”

“But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know.”

“There you go, saving me from out of the cold.”

He can’t continue anymore. His tears are not stopping, they continue to fall and get soaked up by his balaclava. He hasn’t cried in years, and yet here he is. Crying like a baby. He doesn’t want to let you go, but he knows it’s the right thing. If you’re not in pain then you will be when you wake up, if you wake up. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he cries. He pulls away and tries to compose himself, “it’s okay to let go if you’re hurting, lovie. I won’t be mad, I promise.” He notices that the beeping is slowing down. He gives a weak smile, even though you can’t see him. “I’ll love you forever and always, my love. Rest well, I’ll see you on the other side sometime. Hopefully, I get to properly apologize and take you around to all of the places you want to go.” He sobs as your heartbeat continues to slow until it ceases to beat. “I’ll be okay, lovie.” He whispers.

He was not okay. He was far from being okay. He thought that he’d be okay after your funeral, that he’d get the closure he was craving. It’s been weeks, and the pain is still there if not stronger. He can’t stand it. Sometimes his mind is playing tricks on him. Sometimes he can feel a cold air embracing him, as if you’re hugging him. Sometimes he can hear you say, ‘I love you.’ Or ‘I forgive you.’ He’s losing his mind, that is clear to anyone. His aim has been shakier, not as fast on his feet anymore. Fuck, he’s losing his touch.

Everyone is concerned, he sees the worried glances they throw in his direction. The way they avoid the topic of your death at all costs. He hates it, he hates how weak he’s become. He hates how they’re pitying him. One day he gets an idea. There’s a way for him to come see you sooner. Not a pretty one, but it’ll do. He dwells on it for the next few days. Not wanting to do anything rash. He has no family left that he gives a shit about. He only has the military going for him. But going at this rate, he’ll most likely get discharged because of his mental health. How he’s falling apart at the seams. Funny how he’s been alone for most of his life. Yet the instant something good enters his life it gets taken from him. He can’t function properly anymore after you died. Like taking candy from a baby.

Later in the evening. He skipped dinner, not bothering anymore. It’ll only be a waste on him. He writes a short note addressed to the 141. He explains that it’s not their fault. That he’ll be happier than if he stays here, without you. He places the note neatly on the corner of his desk. Knowing someone will come running once they hear the bang. He grabs the handheld gun he stores in his bedside drawer. He stares at the gun. Weapons have never felt heavy on his hand. Let alone handheld guns. Yet now it’s like the heaviest thing he’s ever lifted. He brings it up to his temple. He gets the easy way out, you had to suffer with at least five bullets in you. He closes his eyes and thinks of you. He smiles at the image he has painted in his head. A genuine smile, one that hasn’t appeared on his face in a long time. Again, he feels cold air engulfing him once again. He laughs, that has to be you comforting him. As you always do. He rests his finger on the trigger.

“I’ll see you in a minute, my love.”

He pulls on the trigger. In one second three things happen. A loud bang. Blood splattering. A thud.

One second he’s seeing black. Before he knows it, the next second he sees white. A figure slowly approaches him. He squints his eyes, trying to make out who that figure is. A smile creeps up his face once he realizes who it is. His lovie. You smile at him as you walk closer to him, “hi Simon.” Tears start welling up in his eyes. He says nothing as he pulls you into his strong embrace. You sigh but return the embrace, “it’s okay now, Simon. We have all of the time in the world.” He nods as tears start falling on your white clothes. You pull away as you chuckle. You wipe his tears away, “come. I’ll show you around. You’ll love it here, I promise. It’s so peaceful here.” You hold your hand out to him. He lets out a little laugh but nods and takes your hand in his, “okay. Show me, lovie.”

[doumadono]

hey I hate to bother you but I have an emergency request. Could you write a Bakugou x Reader short where he talks the reader through some big decisions regarding the reader’s possible career path where they’re having to chose between going off and having a 9-5 job or going to continue their family farm? I’m about to graduate in the next year and my parents have been shaming me for wanting to help restart our family farm while I’m off in college.

( we had to sell most of our animals after bad droughts five years back to back, so it’s been incredibly bare as of recent and I’m going to college for Agriculture anyways, so in my mind everything makes sense).

I don’t necessarily want a big fancy job, and honestly nothing makes me happier than working animals and it’s just been hard on me to try and please my parents while also still trying to go out and do what I want.

Harvest of choices - Bakugo x Reader

A/N: please stay true to your goals, and trust that with your dedication and education, you can make a significant impact!

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The city skyline stretched out before you, a dazzling array of lights and towering buildings that promised endless possibilities. The air was crisp, a stark contrast to the earthy, familiar scent of the farm you had grown up on.

You stood on the balcony of your temporary apartment located in Musutafu, clutching the job offer letter in your hands. This could be your future - a stable 9-to-5 job in a reputable company, the kind of career you had always dreamed of. But the thought of leaving the farm, your family, and everything you had known was a heavy weight on your shoulders.

Your phone buzzed, breaking your contemplation.

The screen lit up with a message from Katsuki Bakugo: "I'm outside. Let me in."

You sighed. Bakugo was never one to mince words, and you knew he would force you to confront the decision you had been avoiding.

Opening the door, you were greeted by his intense, crimson gaze, eyes blazing with the determination you had come to rely on. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “What’s going on with you? You've been super off for a few past days, nerd.”

You held up the letter, the official seal of the company catching the light. “I got the job offer. They want me to start next month.”

Bakugo’s eyes flicked to the letter, then back to you. “And you’re freaking out because…?”

“It’s not that simple, Katsuki!” You grunted, your voice trembling slightly. “Taking this job means leaving the farm, leaving my family and everything I am familiar with behind... They need me there, and I don’t know if I can just abandon them.”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a stern expression after he entered your apartment. “So, you’re stuck between the fancy city job and staying on the farm. Let’s break it down.”

He motioned for you to sit on the couch, and you obliged, grateful for his no-nonsense approach.

Bakugou took a seat next to you. “First off, this city job. What’s so great about it?”

You took a deep breath. “It’s a stable career, good pay, and I’d get to use my degree. It’s something new, a chance to grow and prove myself in a different environment.”

Bakugo nodded. “Sounds solid. Now, what about the farm? What’s it mean to you?”

“It’s home,” you replied softly. “It’s where I grew up, where I learned the value of hard work and family. It’s a part of me, and I don’t want to let my family down. They’ve sacrificed so much to keep this place running.”

Bakugo’s expression softened slightly, though his gaze remained intense as he ran his calloused hand through his messy hair. “Alright, so you’ve got strong ties to the farm. But what’s really stopping you from making a decision?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m afraid of making the wrong choice. If I leave, what if the farm fails? And if I stay, what if I’m giving up a chance to do something more with my life?”

Bakugo placed a hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing you there with his thumb. “Listen, you’re not gonna know for sure if you’re making the right choice until you make it. That’s just how life is. But here’s the thing: you’re strong, and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re not the type to let things fall apart, no matter which path you choose.”

His words, though blunt, held a truth that resonated with you.

“But what if I fail?” You whined, shaking your head.

“You won’t,” he said confidently. “And even if things get tough, you’ll figure it out. You’ve got people who care about you, who will support you no matter what. And if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll blast ‘em to pieces.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. “Thanks, Kats. That actually helps.”

He smirked, his usual cocky demeanor shining through. “Damn right it does. Now, let’s talk strategy. If you take the city job, how can you make sure the farm’s in good hands?”

“Well, I could hire someone to help out, maybe even a manager. I could also come back on weekends to check on things and help out where I can.”

“Sounds like a plan. And if you stay on the farm, what’s your strategy for making it more successful?”

“I could look into new farming techniques, maybe diversify our crops or start a small agritourism business. There are a lot of possibilities if I really put my mind to it.”

Bakugo nodded approvingly. “There you go. Either way, you’ve got options and a plan. You’re not going into this blind.”

You felt a surge of determination, the fog of uncertainty beginning to clear. “You’re right. I just need to commit and give it my all, no matter what I choose.”

“Exactly,” Bakugo agreed, his voice steady and reassuring. “And remember, you’re not alone in this. I’ve got your back, and so does everyone else who cares about ya. So stop doubting yourself and make the damn decision.”

With those words, you felt a renewed sense of confidence. “Thanks,” you chuckled softly, leaning forward and giving him a hug. “I needed that. Thank you for always having my back."

He hugged you back, his grip strong. “Whether it’s the farm or the city, you’re gonna kick ass. I am sure about that.”

[brairslair]

FEEL BETTER? ˗ˏˋ P.B.P ´ˎ˗

“all you have to do is ask”

confident!peter parker x shy!gf!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

REQUESTED: no requests are open! fandoms: marvel, stranger things, harry potter (any era), scream

WARNINGS: fem reader, shit writing, established relationship, peter and reader are implied to be in college/uni, SMUT (18+), very little plot tbh, heavy praise kink, softdom!peter vibes, fingering (f!rec), very light nipple play, SUPER slight dacryphilia if u squint, peter is talkative, not proofread and written instead of sleeping, lmk if i missed smth!

A/N: is it 8am? yeah. did i just spend the last two hours writing this mess? also yeah. enjoy!

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE 18+ remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Six hours. That’s how long it’s been since you showed up at Peter’s front door. Six hours spent right next to him, talking to him, touching him, and yet you still find yourself longing for more. Even now as you sit between his legs, back to his chest, his hands kindly twisting at your hair, your thoughts have you squirming in your seat.

The two of you had set up this study date a few days back, anticipating the opportunity to spend time together (without sacrificing your grades). Unfortunately, you were having a hard time focusing on schoolwork.

No matter how much you tried to focus on your paper, you couldn’t stop your mind, and your eyes, from wandering. You caught yourself staring at how pretty his hands looked as he hurriedly wrote down equations, admiring how cute he looked sitting crisscross in his plaid pajama pants and science pun t-shirt, how his voice sounded just slightly deeper when he was concentrating, or how soft his lips look right now. You actually thought you were going to lose it when the praise “Good job, babe. This looks perfect!” fell casually from his lips while reading your completed assignment, sealing it with a kiss to your temple.

You felt like you were going insane, but the thing is, so was Peter. You hadn’t seen each other for nearly three weeks prior to this study date, outside of passing in the halls or a quick call before bed. Between you trying to prepare for a major presentation coming up and Peter’s multitude of responsibilities, neither of you had much energy, let alone time, left to spend on anything else.

Of course, you love everything about Peter, unconditionally. That includes his web-slinging alter ego. However, it can get a little frustrating having to go weeks on end without being able to hold a conversation with him. Especially when all people talk about is the amazing spider-man, listening to girls fawn over your boyfriend for hours a day, and feeling just as fangirl-ish. You found yourself daydreaming about him to pass the time, acting like a schoolgirl with a hopeless crush.

Seeing him again after so long with so little contact is like a wake up call for your senses. You'd been so buried in your studies that you didn’t even realize just how much you missed him until you knocked on his front door.

- “Are you okay?”

Your thoughts dissolve as Peter draws your attention back to the present. When you snap back to reality, you’re immediately reminded of what caused the spiral of daydreams to begin with. You can feel the warmth of his body behind yours, the contour of his toned chest pressing against your back. You feel your whole body heat up.

“Mhm, I’m great!” you squeak out, internally wincing at the shakiness in your voice. Your usually bright and vibrant tone is completely gone, replaced with something resembling more of a whisper than anything else.

Safe to say, Peter isn’t buying it.

His best guess is that you’re upset about something that happened today. Maybe stressed about the presentation you have coming up. He knows it sometimes takes you a while to open up, so for now, he decides to let it go. In an attempt to settle your mind, he slides a hand down your arm to lace his fingers through yours.

Unfortunately, it does the exact opposite. The innocent action leaves a trail of goosebumps behind and makes your breathing pattern pick up ever so slightly. You can only hope that Peter doesn't notice.

He does.

“Are you cold?”

You shake your head, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. “No, I’m alright.” Loosely translated, means I actually feel like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Do you not like the movie? We can change it if you want to watch something else.” he offers sweetly, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’ve been all spacey for the past half an hour.”

Your breath hitches, feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. Of course he would notice. He may be a little oblivious sometimes, but when it comes down to it, Peter knows you better than you know yourself.

“The movie’s fine.” You struggle a bit to formulate a response, feeling your whole body heat up like a furnace. To evade the silence, you stutter out a weak, “I was just… thinking?”

You immediately want to light yourself on fire, deciding the silence would have been better.

“Thinking about what?” he asks. Not prying, just curious. “Must be something pretty important. Your heart is beating a mile a minute.” He softly laughs at his own words, causing you to shrink into yourself. He’s not laughing at you, but it definitely feels that way.

You fidget with Peter’s fingers in your palm, eyes locking on the movie as nerves wrack through your body. “It’s nothing.” You speak so quietly, he’s thankful for his enhanced hearing.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” you can practically hear the concerned furrow in his brow as he brings your still interlaced hands to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses to each knuckle. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

His patient and caring nature never fails to make you fall more and more in love with him, if that’s even possible.

Then, as if you weren’t enough of a mess, what really does it is when Peter leaves the faintest kiss to the base of your neck. A gesture meant to signal patience and understanding towards your “anxiety” only causes your thighs to squeeze together against your will, and before you can think enough to stop it, an airy, barely audible whine escapes the back of your throat, so soft it could pass as a sigh to the average ear.

Nothing about Peter is average.

He stills against your skin, causing your eyes snap open in horror as the realization hits you. Manicured hands immediately cover your face to shield you from the embarrassment.

They don’t stay long as Peter wastes no time in reaching up to gently pry your hands away. You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment from the sheer shame and frustration.

“Hey, hey-”, he holds both hands gently, rubbing sweet circles to soothe you, “No need to be embarrassed. You can talk to me.”

You don’t move your gaze from your lap.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He asks so gently that you comply before you can even think otherwise. His eyes are soft and kind, looking at you with all the love in the world. He makes you feel safe.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about? Hm?”

You blink up at him owlishly, feeling like there would be a question mark floating over your head if you looked up.

“That’s why you were all spacey? You were thinking about me…” he leans his head down, lips grazing your collarbone, “kissing you?”

Your breath catches.

"Or, maybe..." your eyes are glued as he moves his hand from your hold, delicately trailing it down your stomach, past your hip, and slowly down to the inside of your thigh. So close to where you’ve needed him for the past three weeks. “-you were thinking about me touching you?”

Your heart rate picks up by a tenfold, and Peter can hear it hammering in your chest.

Waiting for a response, he’s met with nothing but your heavy breathing. He carefully digs his fingertips into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you?”

Another airy whimper tumbles from your lips, reluctantly nodding in response to his questions, needing him too badly to care about the shame you feel at your neediness.

Peter smiles, rewarding your response by trailing his sweet kisses up your neck, taking his time to feel you shiver under his touch. His warm lips finally reach the shell of your ear.

“All you have to do is ask.”

He resumes his attack on your neck, now bolder in his movements as he licks and bites and sucks at your skin, trying to find the spot that makes your eyes flutter shut.

Caught up in the feeling of his warm mouth against your skin, you don’t even notice as he hooks your ankles over his, slowly spreading your legs wider and wider, until your skirt rides up your legs.

Peter smiles against your skin when a shaky sigh reaches his ears, your hips bucking up in sync. He’s found it. Peter focuses all of his attention on that spot, nipping and sucking at it until you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark. The hand on your thigh squeezes gently every time you move your hips, and you have to chew on your lip to stop the mortifyingly desperate sounds from spilling out.

“Is this what you had in mind, baby?” the words rumble against your skin, sending a chill down your spine, “Is this what you needed?”

Your hips buck again at that, pouting with the hope that he takes the hint. You feel your body melt into him when his tongue darts out to soothe the fresh mark he’s left on your neck.

Of course, he does get the hint, but there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily.

He inches his hand higher and higher up your thigh, slipping underneath the pretty little skirt he had bought for you as a gift a few months ago. You tense in anticipation.

“What is it?” amusement evident in his tone as he asks you. He loves that he gets to be the one that makes you this needy. “Come on, baby. Tell me.”

You almost sob in frustration, not wanting to say it out loud, but the ache between your legs is becoming unbearable.

His hand barely brushes against your panties, making your chest tighten as you suppress the urge to grind into it.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

You can’t handle it any longer.

“Please!” You all-but shout, free hand grabbing at his arm, “Please touch me, Pete!” You cry out, already sounding wrecked and he hadn’t even really done anything yet.

Peter beams at how vocal he had gotten you, leaning his head further down to meet your lips for the first time since you got here all those hours ago. It felt like drinking water after being stranded in a desert for days. You missed the way his lips felt. The way they tasted. You crave more.

Then, he mutters two words against your lips that manage to make your hazy brain short circuit.

“Good girl.”

Your groans are pathetic, being swallowed by Peter’s tongue as he rocks his palm against you through your pretty pink panties.

He can’t help but laugh a little, giddy at the sounds spilling out of you at even the lightest touch of his hand.

“Is that better?” he asks, breaking away for air. “This what you've been daydreamin' about?” He already knows what you really want, he always does, but he wants to hear you say it one more time. Just one more confirmation and he’ll give you anything you need.

Now that your mind is so clouded with pleasure, you don’t give it a second thought. “More-” you can’t barely get out a sentence between mewls, “Please, Peter, I need more-”

Before you can say another word, he’s pushing your underwear aside. Your head falls limp against Peter’s shoulder as he gathers your slick, dragging it up to finally circle your puffy clit.

Without his mouth to drown them out, your moans flow freely from you, drowning out the long-forgotten movie playing in the distance. Peter goes back to kissing your neck, deciding to mark every area of your skin that he can reach.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he soothes, nipping at the skin right under your jaw, his own heartbeat jumping at every noise he pulls from you, “Bet you’ve been achey all day, huh?”

You nod your head, barely registering his words as pleasure rolls through your body.

He lets out an almost mocking “Aww, honey…” as you buck your hips against his fingers, “Been so patient for me, huh? Waiting all day for me to make you feel good?”

“Mhm” mixed with your pants, words tumble from your mouth without a single thought to how eager you sound, “Feels so- ohhh… sososo good-”

All you can think about is the way Peters rough fingertips feel absolutely euphoric as he swirls and flicks at your clit, and how his lips sear every inch of your skin, and how his scent and his warmth consumes and takes over every thought floating around in your blissed-out head.

“You sound so pretty-” he peppers hot kisses across your shoulder, “Making so many pretty sounds…”

Peter bends his legs a little, which in turn, bends yours. The move spreads you out just a little bit more, but its enough to send little shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you jolt and gasp at the feeling.

Peter loves the way you look when you get like this. Skin sticky with heat, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open in bliss. He thinks you looks like a goddess.

Your moans start to sound more and more like a plea, hips grinding against Peter’s fingers subconsciously as you feel the heat slowly taking over. You need more.

“Peter, pleaseee-“

“Shh, It’s okay.” his fingers glide down to your entrance, coating themselves with slick, “I’ve got you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes practically roll into your skull as he slips two fingers inside of you with ease. The stretch feels incredible, and you can’t help but squeeze the hand that's still holding yours, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god-“

Peter kisses back up until he reaches your lips again, grinning as you can barely reciprocate. The gentle nature of his kiss makes your head spin and your core clench around his fingers.

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

You feel your lashes begin to collect tears at the overwhelming feeling pulsing through you. This has been building up for weeks.

“Always so good for me.”

Achey little noises spill from your lips onto Peter’s, breathing labored and heaving as the only thought filling your head is Peter Peter Peter.

Then suddenly your mind goes completely blank, gasping back a choked moan as your body goes limp, jaw slacking against Peter’s deep kisses. Your whole body feels like it's buzzing with electricity, and your head feels static in the most amazing way.

Peter pulls back for a moment to watch your face scrunch up in ecstasy, as he rubs against your spot over and over and over again. “There she is.” he coos, admittedly a little proud of himself, and you’re too fucked out to pick up on the mocking tone. He watches in awe as you start to fall apart.

“Takin’ my fingers so well, baby.”

You start to clench tighter around him, using your free hand to grip his wrist like a vice. Peter goes back to kissing your open mouth, sucking and nipping at your bottom lip as you pulse and twitch under his touch.

Panting turns back into whimpers which turns into tears as Peter massages your walls just right, hitting all the right places and stretching you out sooo perfectly.

You can feel pressure building up rapidly in your stomach, back arching up as your body starts to shake from the intensity. Peter shifts so he can watch the way your hips chase his fingers and your chest heaves for air.

“You’re so close, sweetheart. You can do it.” he praises, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, “Almost there-“

The knot keeps winding tighter and tighter, and whiny begs and pleads start to pour out of you. Lots of “Oh my god, Pete“ or “Please” and “So good-“

Hand over yours, Peter glides your intertwined hands up your body and over your arched ribcage. He slides your hands under your his t-shirt, using his thumb to push your smaller one back and forth over your peak, a long chant of mumbled Peter’s tumble from your kiss-bitten lips.

“I know, baby, I know.” he consoles you, copying the pouty tone of your voice, “Just feels too good, huh?”

You nod your head frantically, still not catching onto the the tease, only caring about chasing your release.

He presses his lips to your ear, “Waited so long for this, honey. You deserve to feel good.”

He pumps his fingers a little bit faster.

“Gonna make you feel so good-“

You start to grind your hips up again, gasping when his palm rubs against your clit with each thrust.

“Pete-” the knot is getting tighter, “Oh my god, Peter- I’m…“ and tighter, “I’m gonna-”

“Let go for me, babe.”

Thats all you needed for your vision to go white hot, mouth falling open with a silent scream as stars dance behind your eyelids.

“There ya go”

“Just like that, pretty girl”

“Let it all out, baby”

He peppers kisses on your burning skin and slows his movements as he works you through your high. As you come down from it, your body goes limp on top of him, a lazy smile stretching on your lips. Peter can’t help but smile too, chest swelling in satisfaction that he was the one who put that smile on your face.

You wince a little as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core, eyes following as he brings them up to his lips to clean them off.

“Feel better?” this time you can definitely hear the cockiness in his tone, smacking him weakly on the arm. “Shut up.”

You turn around just enough to kiss him. This time, it’s slow, and careful, and loving, and you have to pull away and bury your face in his chest to hide the lovesick look in your eyes. Both of you burst out giggling, and Peter can't stop himself from wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you as close as possible. He’s missed you more than you could possibly ever know.

As relaxation coats you like a warm, fuzzy blanket, you shift your weight to get comfortable.

“Ah, don’t-“

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, hissing at the sudden pressure and gripping your hips to keep you still. “Can't do that...”

Now it’s his turn to get flustered.

His face goes beet red as you jump up in confusion. When you look down, you notice a painful looking bulge in his jeans. Your stomach twists with the knowledge that you did that to him.

You weren’t the only one who’s been touch deprived.

“Oh! Sorry…” you giggle a little at the accidental stimulation, looking back up at Peter with a playful smile of your own. “Your turn!”

______________________________________________________________

part 2??

[holidayinhell]

Whumpay: Operating Table

Will post one excerpt per theme bc I simply do not have The Time!!

Characters: sadistic Whumper and coward Whumpee. TWs: nonsexual nudity, extreme fear, restraints, male whump, implied organ harvesting

Whumpee found himself at a loss as the metal door creaked open.

The cold tiled room held only one powerful light, its brilliance bounced across a gleaming metallic surface positioned in the center of the room. As a whole it was empty, containing only one chair, a cooler box, and two rolling cabinets on either side of the operating table.

“No... no way.” 

The captor's gloved, heavy hands rested on both of Whumpee’s shoulders. 

“Are you surprised?” Whumper said almost directly into Whumpee's ear. He cocked an eyebrow. “You know how this works.”

The words rang in Whumpee’s ears. Of course he knew. Whumpee was all too familiar with the chop shop he’d been detained in for the past few weeks. He had suffered countless sleepless nights filled with the shrieks and pleas of the misfortunate souls who’d been sacrificed to the Operating Room.

But Whumpee had lasted longer than any of the other captives ever had. They had an expiration date of maybe two weeks maximum, whereas he’d been held here for over four months. And while he didn’t understand the exact reason he was treated so well, he never questioned it, and was always pleasant to the man who had decided to keep him around so long. Whumpee got along well with Whumper.

“Are you- what is this?” Whumpee asked incredulously.

“Ah. You’re kidding around, huh?” He turned to face the larger man behind him. He feigned a weak smile.

“No.”

His smile dropped and his palms became sticky with sweat. He knew what happened in this room. Well, he didn’t know exactly, but he knew the people Whumper ushered in never came out. 

But then again, Whumper also had a playful side—playful in a kind of horrible, sadistic way— this could be his version of a joke. Yes, surely this was just a cruel joke.

“…what is this?

“This is exactly what it looks like.”

“You’re messing with me.”

“You still think so?” Whumper half smiled.

“Ha-ha.” Whumpee said weakly.  His heart was pounding in his ears. “For a second there you had me.”

“Haven’t had you yet. Soon, though.”

The captive froze. He could feel the hungry gaze of Whumper's eyes locked on him, studying his every tremor of fear with cold fascination. Whumpee's head fell, confidence shattered.

“Not this.”  He half-whispered to the tiles on the ground. “Not like this. Please.”

He stole a glance back at Whumper to see if making a run for it was a viable option. It wasn’t. 

Sensing the his urge to flee, Whumper side-stepped to block the entryway.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

Whumpee’s knees gave out and he crumbled forward. There was no escaping this.

“I can’t, I can’t. I can’t do it.. Please. Please!” he wailed. “I’ll do anything! Anything anything…” Saliva strings fell from his gaping, moaning mouth, tears and mucus ran down his face.

“Well apparently not.”

“But-but, I’ve been good, I-I thought I was doing good, I don’t, I don’t— I don’t wanna die!”

“You have been good.” Whumper reassured him with a sigh. He stooped down to wipe the muck from Whumpee’s face off with the scratchy arm of his sleeve. “So keep it up, mkay?”

Sobs wrenched in Whumpee's throat, urging him to scream, but he swallowed hard, doing his best to suppress the sound, fearing it might enrage Whumper before he had the chance to reason with him. He knew crying wouldn’t help, and begging would only take him as far as Whumper allowed before caving his head in.

Whumpee couldn’t hold it back any longer. “You’re gonna, you’re gonna kill me aren’t you...” He let out a terrified shriek. “You’re going to kill me!”

“Oh, hell. Shut up. It’s not personal. Just part of the job, gotta keep bread on the table and all.”

“I can get you money!” The captive scrambled nervously, “I, I have a friend--a really rich, wealthy friend in the city— he’ll pay you however much you need. I know he will, I just need to get--”

“That’s good to know.” The larger man interrupted. Whumper roughly nudged the terrified man through the doorway, shoving him to the cold tile floor. “Come on, Whumpee.”

“Wait! Wait wait wait, wait a minute just wait--” He hyperventilated as he was urged forward. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode. He fell to his knees.

Whumper sighed, hooking the frantic man under the shoulder and launching him deeper into the room. He pulled the large iron door closed, secured the heavy latch, and pulled his black latex gloves up.

“D-do-don’t do this to m-m-me.”

Whumper sighed again. Begging grated his nerves more than anything. He’d listened to each of them recite the identical lines countless times, offering up drugs, money, sex— anything in exchange for their freedom. For some reason he’d hoped it would be different with Whumpee. He was such an obedient captive, and Whumper treated him like goddamned royalty. He thought he would approach the table and offer himself up willingly.

But no, Whumpee was performing an identical version of the same pleas for mercy as the rest of them. It was boring, and frankly, a little depressing.

“Stop it.” Whumper warned. “Get up.” 

The shivering man stood.

 “Take off your clothes.”

“Wh-wha? Why??”

“Aghhhh! Just take off your fuckin’ clothes!” Whumper sighed.

The boy shifted awkwardly on his feet, holding out hope that this sick routine was only a prelude to one of Whumper’s sick jokes. Surely this was the punchline. He’d already accomplished his goal of scaring the shit out of Whumpee. Surely it was over. Surely he’d end things here.

“Now.”

Whumpee’s fingers fumbled to find the hem of his filthy, formerly blue t-shirt, his arms weakly lifted the thin fabric over his head to reveal his ashen torso. It was the only barrier he had between his body and Whumper’s scalpel. The shirt fell to the floor.

Whumper took in the sight of Whumpee’s nearly perfect complexion. His skin was creamy white from the lack of sun exposure, pale folks were rare to stumble across in the desert wasteland. He was a slim man, athletic and lean, he bore no telltale signs of abuse. Whumper provided him with two mostly edible meals a day, clean clothes and the occasional hot shower.

“Go on. Take off all of it.”

The small man's cheeks burned with shame. Whumper’s hungry eyes shone with intrigue.

Whumpee laced his fingers around the elastic band of his pants clinging to his narrow hips. In one quick motion he dropped his pants and boxers down his legs, his hands swiftly rushed to cup his exposed genitals.

“How modest.” Whumper chuckled. Let him hide, Whumper thought. He’d have nothing to hide behind once he splayed his lean body across the table.

“Aight, now come here and open up.” Whumper produced a ball gag from his pocket.

Whumpee’s body quaked from a pang of terror so violent it threw his body off balance. A warm sensation trickled down the inside of his thigh.

Whumpee looked down at the pool of warmth he was standing in, and--fuck, oh fuck-- he’d pissed himself.

“For fuck’s sake, Whumpee. The hell is wrong with you today?!”

Wide-eyed and cowering, Whumpee collapsed to the floor and scrambled backwards. “I’msorryimsorryimso so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--!” He stammered frantically. “I didn’t mean--”

Whumper threw Whumpee’s discarded pants over the puddle of urine. Surprisingly, he tossed Whumpee’s shirt back to him. 

“Hush. Clean yourself off.”

He cleared his throat and a few heavy tear drops plopped on the fabric in his lap. “I am sorry. I-I didn’t mean to do that.” He almost managed to say it without his voice quavering. He wiped the inside of his legs down using the filthy shirt and threw it aside. A powerful wave of numbness began supplanting his overwhelming terror.

“It’s okay, I’ve seen a lot worse.” A crooked smile returned to Whumper’s face. “Get over here. Right fuckin’ now.”

Whumpee swallowed his pride. His fear. His will to live. And he faced his fate head on.

“Good. Climb on the table.” 

Whumpee got on the table.

Whumper secured his prey by locking his wrists and ankles to the operating table with a short length of chain. This was it. There was no going back now. Whumper looked down at Whumpee with ravenous eyes. He had him where he wanted him, after all of these months, finally.

He pulled on his surgical mask, rolled up his sleeves, and adjusted the light above his victim. A gloved index finger traced down the length of Whumpee’s bare body, imitating the blade's path. He truly had magnificent skin.

Before Whumper managed to make his first cut, his cellphone rang.

“You couldn’t have called at a worse time, you sonuvabitch. Call later. He’s on the table right now.” Whumper barked into the phone.

-Pause. Whumpee faintly heard the person on the line chuckle.-

“No shit? Who?”

-A longer pause.-

“I dunno. It sounds like one hell of a deal. Don't worry, this one's not goin' anywhere. Run it past the boss and get back to me. ”

-Pause-

"Heh, I should really kick your ass for this one," Whumper said wryly. "I've been nursing the best pair of virgin kidneys and liver you've ever fuckin' seen."

-Pause-

"Mhm. Roger that. Bye." Whumper tucked his phone in his pocket and pulled his surgical mask down.

“Whumpee. Your wealthy friend in the city--” 

Whumper rested the scalpel on Whumpee’s stomach.

“--is his name Caretaker?”

((more Whump oneshots))

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 43 - Even Though I Knew The End by C. L. Polk

Oh this was fun. Never would have heard of it if it hadn’t been nominated for a Hugo, and devoured it in the course of a computer-less Sunday afternoon. It wasn’t exactly reaching for the stars, but it knew what it was about and it executed it well; there’s a real virtue to that. Also I adore slightly cheesy but self-serious noir and the early 20th century really is the ideal setting for classical urban fantasy.

The story follows Helen, a private investigator and warlock in 1930s Chicago. Ten years prior to the story, she sold her soul to a demon to resurrect her younger brother from a car crash that would have otherwise killed her entire family – for her trouble, she was cast out from the magical brotherhood training her as a mystic and forced to make a living as a cut-rate diviner and gumshoe in Chicago. The plot kicks off three days before the deal comes due and her soul’s forfeit, and she takes one last consulting job to add a bit more to the nest egg she’ll be leaving for her girlfriend Edith when she’s torn from the mortal coil. And then, of course, she finds out that a) her employer is a demon, b) the case she’s consulting on is someone ritually murdering other poor souls who’ve made deals, days before they come due, and c) if she solves it she’ll get her soul back, along with enough money to make to San Francisco with Edith and start a new life free and clear.

So this is not a book that sets out to surprise the reader. The storytelling is efficient and the foreshadowing is reasonably honest – you can guess just about every twist well ahead of time with even the slightest bit of effort. I’d say the book isn’t trying to break any new ground, but actually it’s the only example I can think off hand of this sort of genre emulation period piece that both has a queer protagonist and doesn’t either elide or edit out the homophobia of the their environment, so there is that. Anyway, ‘genre emulation’ is the right term I think – snappy, tightly written noir plot that doesn’t outlast its welcome (this was absolutely a novella-sized story).

I really don’t know the author or their work well enough to know how intentional it is, but the ending very much felt like a comment on the whole Bury Your Gays/Tragic Lesbian trope. Essentially, Edith gets herself heroically sacrificed saving Helen’s life in the climactic showdown. Then, once the dust has settled and Marlow (her demonic client) has given Helen her soul back she…immediately sells it again to bring her back. Better ten years of Californian bliss with her true love then an eternity in heaven (and besides, that brother she’d saved the first time had just killed an angel, so someone’s going to need to keep him company in hell). The book’s title is in no way subtle or metaphorical, it is a line of the protagonist’s internal monologue.

The story’s universe is a folk-Christian one, and it is absolutely imperative that when reading it you don’t poke at the underlying metaphysics at all. Angels and demons are real and magicians are the distant descendants of Nephilim and some of the Grigori still haunt the earth, and we have it on good authority that God doesn’t actually care about being gay and everyone seems very frightened of the idea of summoning the Archangel Michael to earth, but start asking any followup questions about angels and world events during the Roosevelt Administration and you’re ruin the story for yourself. Just don’t worry about it.

As a final note, I really did love Marlowe – or properly, she’s one of my favorite types of demons in these sorts of stories. Epitome of high class beauty, lives in a palatial penthouse waited upon handed and foot by layers of servants, eats the best food and wears the best clothes and has the best lovers, even a generous employer and creditor as long as you do what she wants and give her what she’s owed. The sort of demon who seems like falling out of heaven was worth it, and one you can imagine actually convincing someone to sell their soul. She’s fun!

[bonnyhoddie]

Accurate depiction of literally just the last run I was in

I have such a huge amount of respect for distractors, and I got Goob yesterday, so this was my second run with him.

My first was so good, there were 2 Pebbles and me, and I had to fully take over floor 6 instead of being emergency in case one got away or just to make extra sure nobody got hit, and got me and my team to floor 13, nobody died except for of their own free will except for the Pebbles (I think, 1 disconnected but I wasn’t looking when the other died) and, even then, floor 13, the Tisha I was with sacrificed themselves to Sprout (we also saw Vee on that run, my luck is always decent when I’m NOT Rodger) so we absolutely could have lasted longer if not for that, at most I would have lost Sprout a few times, but he’s huge, loud and slow, the Tisha could always avoid him until I got him back.

This run however…

Roblox broke my chat so I couldn’t talk in it so I couldn’t inform people that I was, in fact, TRYING to find the other one, or call anyone out on their bullshit (it happens when you get teleported to the game while typing or while the game thinks you’re typing)

Teagan and Astro were talking a whole lotta shit about me while literally leading the twisted AWAY from me. Floor 1? Brightney and Gigi, but I only knew it was Gigi because of capsules because no matter where I ran, I COULD NOT find her, because the bitches all kept getting found by her and took her to different spot in the map where I couldn’t see her, all the while, I get in chat:

“Goob distract, distract! I’m taking any meds!” - Astro

“This Goob kinda bad at distracting ngl” - Teagan

I was also trying to avoid Teagan because we have the same stealth so they’d start chasing her at any moment if I ever forgot that.

I honestly should have settled in one spot with just Brightney but I mostly didn’t. I did a little in the middle of the map hoping I could find the other twisted (again, despite all that running around, had no clue it was Gigi except for picking up a capsule at the end out of curiosity, that’s how bad the ‘leading them away from me’ thing was) but with Teagan I didn’t wanna risk blocking the path fully for her so I had to get back to running around.

Also, HOW is an Astro getting hit with 6-7 other people in the lobby and 5 star stealth? I get if movement speed is an issue (it’s not for Astro) as I typically play Rodger but, sometimes, it’s okay to let the twisted switch targets, I’ve quite literally died at times BECAUSE I didn’t want to lead them to people by accident, even though they definitely would have survived because they’ll be faster or closer to a place they can circle than I’ll be.

But yeah, can’t lie, because of them, I started getting reckless cause I didn’t want people to think I was bad because they were stupid and led them away from me, my bad LOL so I died on floor 4, which is SO embarrassingly short for me, even when I’m figuring out a new toon AND not used to distracting AT ALL, I can typically get to floor 10 before I have one of those moments where I just CANNOT lose them, but, Y’know what, if you wanna brag about distracting SHRIMPO as Teagan, how about you take Tisha too? Actually, you can take all of them while there are starters and Finn also in the game causing havoc and leading them to and away from you too and not being able to avoid them or lose them because, to no fault of their own, they’re new and are figuring out everything and don’t realise they can quite literally circle ANYTHING to lose them (except the bean bags in the projector map, I don’t trust them)

If you cannot do a simple job of avoiding Twisted and losing them (as Teagan, a 3 star movement survivalist, slow toons are completely valid in not being able to lose them) and are not going to help me and instead make my job worse so I can’t settle in a spot and just get into a flow where you can also safely avoid me, don’t complain about me being bad, learn to help your distractors better, or they’re just gonna struggle cause they’re gonna be getting ambushed in all the chaos of you not letting them do their job calmly, and die on an early floor.

Advice? Maybe, what I’VE found helpful anyway whenever I’ve played as Tisha, Razzle and now Goob: If you want to help distractors, then either just let them run for a bit, if you have higher stealth you can also follow (do NOT follow distractors too closely if you share stealth or lower) or just stay for a few seconds and trust them to find the twisted, or go as normal and keep an eye on distractor so if you ever get chased, you know where to take the twisted to.

If you see the distractor while being chased, either lose the twisted close to the distractor, or just run past/through them from BEHIND or the side, not in front, cause the twisted chasing you could run into the distractor, also be careful doing that if you share stealth (Tisha, Flutter, Razzle (odd floors) and Pebble all have 3 stealth, Goob is the only one with 2).

If you see the distractor doing small turns, like, they have to sprint just to keep a good distance, it’s best to avoid them entirely if you can, even if you have higher stealth, twisted can easily switch targets due to small turns. But also don’t be afraid to ask the distractor to move, cause, likely, if they’re blocking the path, it’s not a good spot anyway. Also, feel free to tell them to sprint a lil more if you feel the twisted are too close to them, it makes me anxious they’re gonna get hit too.

If you share stealth with the distractor, just try and avoid them as best as you can. Accidents happen where they switch to you, but just lose them as quick as possible and don’t stray too far from the distractor, otherwise the twisted will just go everywhere again and chaos will happen.

[im-out-of-it]

season 2, episode 2, part 3 continued “a door into the dark”

69. I know this was last episode but I love a speechless Alec

70. Simon: why would I need you anyways?

80. Magnus with his wonderful wisdom

81. I also love Izzy’s face here

82. Clary: omg dot I haven’t seen you in days

83. Valentines actions don’t make sense but he is smart enough (which isn’t much) to trick jace and clary endlessly

84. smart enough because clary and Jace are the dumbest characters on the show and series and would believe the sky was green if you told them so

85. you know that you could easily put what happens to Alec back on jace and clary, and Jocelyn. Jace leaves and Alec thinks it’s his job to save him. Clary doesn’t listen to anyone and will do anything to save jace even if it means listening to some visions, and Jocelyn didn’t tell clary anything of her past- loses clary- and then enlists Alec’s help

86. and it’s not dot’s fault because she’s been getting injected by Valentine (and I get it’s hard not to listen to but clary also isn’t the brightest)

87. Alec: im worried sis

88. now Simon, why would Camille be there of all places???? 😭 (India)

89. it was Luke’s idea first but Jocelyn went right along with tagging Alec

90. Alec has a mind of his own but there’s a problem. the whole shadowhunters premise is all about saving jace no matter what. it’s also about saving clary but CC made the whole thing about jace and how everyone needs to be determined to save him at any costs. it doesn’t matter if someone dies or gets their feelings hurt as long as jace is protected and safe. which is really ironic because he’s been named the best shadowhunter of his generation but constantly needs saved. CC and her weird self insert obsession with a fictional character is obviously wild but it practically ruins the whole story. the concept of shadowhunters isn’t bad. the downworlders are interesting and so are fighting demons but not when there aren’t good enough arcs, plot lines, and people keep doing the same exact thing that you can predict where the story is heading

91. and that’s exactly the problem here. Jace has been nothing but rude to Alec since the last season but Alec is determined to save him even if it means putting himself at risk. I get the show didn’t want to go too far from the books but they didn’t need to have Alec constantly save jace and practically kill himself over and over again. this is going to be the second time he almost dies and there’s another big one later on. Alec’s body and mind is never a concern but jace is

92. but what are we sacrificing here? Alec should have been allowed to cut off jace in the show and be happy without him. there’s so many possibilities and storylines they could have done. he’s not the heart of the story. Alec is, Izzy, Raphael, simon, Maia, magnus, they are the heart of the story and what people want to watch (and I’m biased) but nobody wants to watch some dude who’s supposed to be the best degrade, dismiss, and be a dick to his parabatai who has done so much for him.

93. Alec says he needs jace but what he needed was a real friend (give me the series and concept, I can fix it)

94. Alec going off part 4

95. Jocelyn means: I’ll do anything to bring back a daughter I don’t respect even if it means you almost dying Alec

96. I love Alec’s I don’t give a fuck attitude but I still wish he would’ve gone off on jace. and I know I’ve gone into much detail about it but I just wish so so so much that they would’ve had Alec had a breakthrough and really ask if jace is worth all of his suffering.

97. and valentines plan is working as he predicted

98. “I guess I’m not your ordinary shadowhunter”- yeah, you’re more annoying and self conceited than most

99. Simon is still battling a snake 😭

100. meanwhile mags is just collecting his belongings lmao

101. nothing like going shopping for your own stuff

102. magnus, you don’t have a bad side

103. and here is the jackpot of all trades

104. you’re a warlock Magnus

105. this is one of the most symbolic pieces of Magnus there are

106. I forgot these and I finally found the vampire running gif so if anyone doesn’t want to even look at the one I created, I won’t be insulted lmao

107. Simon: MAGNUS IM DYING

108. clary, you can gladly leave and no one will care. LET ME DO A REWRITE PLEASE

109. Magnus: what took you so long?

stopping at 110 but I’ve got two more parts in the editing stage that I’ll get right out

[bearsinpotatosacks]

I have a stranger things theory in the same vein as a few reset theories I’ve seen.

They've been using a weird form of time travel which isn't really time travel but also isn't not time travel if you get me? I'm just realising that I'm not exactly sure how Eleven goes back into her memories? Is it a hypnosis thing? They play the tapes and she's transported back there but can only relive, not change, a Christmas Carol style? Or was it her powers making her relive them but instead of someone else's memories, it's her own.

They used this, and combined with general ability to see into someone's mind and how she just straight up resurrected Max, I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say she could time travel.

I have a scene in my mind of Eleven realising that there isn't a way they can destroy the upside down forever, Vecna is immune to their attempts and she maybe has been having moments of deja vu throughout (think loki s2 where he keeps time jumping to the past and future) and realises that the only way to stop it once and for all is to stop it happening at all. She makes the hard decision to go back and stop herself from sending Henry to the Upside Down but it's a hard decision because there's a high likelihood that if the other kids didn't die, if she'd just killed Henry instead of sending him to the Upside Down, she never would've got out and so she's sacrificing her friends and also the lives her friends have made.

Think about how good of an ending that would be, for them all to decide to sacrifice their lives now to make a new one that they won't even know is different. 

Will never goes to the Upside Down so may be more confident and not as traumatised. Jonathan was never looking for Will in the woods, so never took those photos of Steve and Nancy before Barb died, because she never died, so Steve never destroys his camera, so Nancy never bonds with him because he has evidence of something killing Barb, so they may never get together in the first place. And because there’s no demogorgan, and no love triangle, Steve may still have been a popular jock because he probably didn’t fall out with Jonathan, so didn’t have to apologise and change. 

Robin and Steve may not be friends because the mall wouldn’t have been built as a cover up for the russian experiments. And because Steve didn’t change, and Barb is alive, there may have been no ‘you’re bullshit’ argument at Halloween so Steve doesn’t have to apologise, and he doesn’t help and bond with Dustin because there was no Dart so Dustin wasn’t trying to get to the Party. This means that Dustin’s just closer to Eddie, because Eddie just graduated in 1986 instead of dying, he maybe doesn’t even really like Steve because Steve stayed a popular jock.

Max wouldn’t be in whatever state she was in because no Vecna. But also she wouldn’t have the trauma of Billy dying to get her to be a victim because Billy was never possessed so is still alive, so maybe Susan and Neil are still together, so Max’s life is shitty in a different way. Also if there’s no upside down then Will wouldn’t be possessed and there would be no demodogs, so Max wouldn’t have sneaked out so Billy wouldn’t have beaten up Steve so Max wouldn’t have stood up to him (at that point, I like to think something like that would still happen).

Would Joyce and Hopper still be together? Would Joyce be with Bob still? 

And most importantly, what happens to Eleven? Is she still in the lab? Is she dead?

She goes back, kills Henry, Dr Brenner walks in and says ‘what have you done?’ and everything goes black.

She wakes up in her bed in the Byers’ old house. Joyce is in the kitchen, Will at the table. Hopper’s at work. It’s normal. She goes to school and things are normal, but she’s in the hellfire club, Max is fine, Lucas is in the basketball team.

Nancy’s at university, Steve’s got a job and they’re living together, she just knows. They don’t know who Robin is. Jonathan is also at university, he was never with Nancy, he and Will shared a room after El came to live with Joyce and Hopper. 

Eddie’s band’s playing Hawkins, they’ve got a cult following and are on tour. Billy’s coming to see them, because Billy’s alive, duh, Max says like it’s common knowledge, because it is. He just left town one day, keeps occasional contact with Max now that Neil’s in prison, he started on Susan and her after he left and the party noticed and after a year of pain, he got convicted. 

By the end of the day, El’s struggling to remember the original universe, the original story. It’s normal.

[awingedinsect]

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 8

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: cursing, talks of injury, talks of homelessness, there’s a general 18+ content warning for this entire series and it does get a tiny bit interesting at the end here. Yearning Vessel gets his own warning.

“I got you a present.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

The little girl smiled, raking up a fistful of sand.

“It’s a surprise, silly.” She said. The breeze was blowing her hair, and Vessel smiled as she pulled it out of her sweet little eyes. “For your birthday.”

He remembers the smell of the ocean, the sound of the grey waves crashing on the shore. He remembers sitting there for hours with her, watching the tide come in as the sun made its journey behind the clouds.

He chuckled. “Aw heck, you didn’t have to do that.” There was a big smile creeping up on his face. “…Do I get a hint?”

“Well, mom paid for it, but I picked it out.” She said, yanking up a few pieces of grass poking through the grout. “and no.” She made a zipper across her mouth, beaming up at him with specks of sand scattered on her pink cheeks. “My lips are sealed!”

“Hey, Vessel.”

Vessel looks up from the pan he’s scrubbing, turning on the faucet to rid it of the suds. The water soaks into the cuffs of his hoodie.

“Hm?”

IV stands beside him casually, shrugging the leather jacket he performed in over his good shoulder.

“I’m heading into town. Anything I can get for you?”

Vessel sets the pan down on the drying rack, hands spidering a little desperately over the pile of dirty dishes in search of his next target. “Oh, no thanks,” he says, blinking at the guitarist’s reflection in the window then immediately looking down when his is in the pane too. He still looks tired, eyes bloodshot and hollow. Almost like he’d been nearly sacrificed and since possessed by an anonymous deity.

“You uh, driving?” He asks, glancing over at the man’s broken arm. An unprecedented wave of guilt comes over him, and he swipes his nose on his shoulder with a sniff. The sunlight is pouring in through the dusty window and it makes eye contact feel doubly impossible. But IV just shrugs, stuffing his hand in his jean pocket and shuffling a ring of keys.

“Aye, I’m the only one up here with a license. But I don’t mind, going to the grocery is pretty much a special interest at this point. You sure I can’t get you anything? Swing by your house for some clothes?”

It amuses Vessel that there’s an unspoken understanding that he’s staying. It would be sweet, if there wasn’t also the underlying idea that he doesn’t actually have a choice. But then again, he doesn’t have anywhere else that he should be, much less a house. He wonders if they can tell. If the inability to pay another night's rent at that damn motel is as plain as the bandage on his face. God, he wants his keyboard.

Out of anything in the world, he’d take those keys under his fingers.

“I’m fine, honestly. I can take a cab to the motel lat-“

“You’re staying in a motel?”

A horrendous blush creeps up his neck, and he dumps a plate on the rack hard enough to make him wince. “I’m… temporarily a bit displaced?”

There’s not a whole lot to read on IV’s face. He just absorbs information, then says some contemplated thing in return. But out of pity or surprise, there’s something closer to concern in his eyes.

“…You got a job, mate?”

There’s a silence longer than III’s fucking legs, and maybe twice as insufferable as the man himself. Even now Vessel can hear him in the next room, quietly muttering over his collection of herbs and spell-making equipment in an attempt to guard against whatever “bullshit the cat dragged in.” II is watching the tv, sipping a soda and giggling at whatever's on the discovery channel.

Vessel’s big eyes finally gather the strength to look up in the window, mouth twitching as he meets IV’s own.

“…I sing.”

And that’s what he does.

That’s how that day passes, and the next, and the next… at first, he’s nervous. Just settles on the edge of the couch to watch the three of them take positions, falling into the flow of practice as easy as a stream into the sea. II looks about as at home behind his drum set as a tree in the woods. Vessel has never seen so much cohesion between a person and their instrument, and it fills his gut with an almost jealousy, seeing something so flawless performed with such ease.

IV forgoes his guitar, obviously. But he still brings a lot to the performance by presence and a few vocals alone. II wasn’t kidding when he said the man could scream. The sound scratches Vessel's ears so gorgeously, he could legitimately start crying.

And then there’s III.

He stands front and center, that same flowery jacket on his shoulders. He looks concentrated. In tune. And yet there’s an ease that rolls off of him so fabulously it can’t help but feel like a subtle challenge.

Vessel watches his fingers move over the strings, rings glinting in the grey-ish light of the foggy forest.

And he feels… something.

He watches them play for an hour before II begs him to join. There’s something in those blue eyes that is undeniable, no matter how out of place he feels. And soon there is a mic stand in front of him, adjusted about three levels higher than he found it.

“Bring Me to Life.” III mutters. And without a piano, the first sounds are nothing but a few chords plucked by his nimble fingers.

The challenge is no longer subtle.

Vessel rocks on his heels, fingers splaying delicately down the side of the mic stand before gripping it low and still for his mouth to caress.

“How can you see into my eyes…”

A very quiet “oh hooo” of impending excitement comes from somewhere behind the drum set, and Vessel smiles.

“…like open doors?”

IV’s screams of “I can’t wake up” ring in all of their ears for several days, so intense it’d be funny if not so impressive. They played for hours that day, only pausing to brew a few cups of III’s jasmine rose tea. II was right; it tasted like ass. And yet in that room, sweaty from pouring his soul into a mic and surrounded by those three, passionate freaks of the industry, he realized he was almost happy. His smile, for the first time in years, wasn’t something he willed onto his face. And if he could hang on forever to the feeling of discovering a smile instead of creating it he would.

II tells him goodnight without any prompting. Just smiles at him, and says it as easy as breathing, before heading off into one of three doors lining the hallway.

IV likes him too. He gets a few changes of clothes and a brand new toothbrush from him, and even shares an intelligent conversation about guitars once Vessel mentions that he likes to play, too. Most of his feeling is in his eyes, he’s realized. They have a way of sparkling and harboring what might be big smiles in another case when he’s intrigued or at peace. The only person who gets him to really smile, is II; When the drummer is curled up in a tiny ball on the couch with his cup of “tea” or going absolutely manic on the drums, closing his eyes and getting carried off in the rhythm.

Even III smiles then.

But not once has he ever smiled at Vessel.

Vessel goes to sleep one night, thinking about it.

What would it feel like to have III’s approval? It’s clear at this point that he’ll never make the guy happy. He resents him too much for that. And yet, he did save his life. Shouldn’t that be good enough?

Vessel doesn’t like him very much, he’s decided. Especially when after belting his heart out at the man’s command he doesn’t even get a “well done”, or a “thank you” when Vessel made a mug of that nasty fucking tea and brought it to him after practice. He just nods his head and half-way looks at him; because at the end of the day, Vessel isn’t worth his attention.

And it makes his face red as a beet.

The moon is pouring in through the window. It’s been a week since it was full, and lighting up the forest outside with him in it. The cuts on his belly seem to be healing well, and he’s planning to take the bandage off his head tomorrow and see what the hell that’s all about.

Why won’t III approve of him?

He turns over on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“You really are amazing.” II’s voice echoes in his head from earlier in the day, when he was cutting up some apples in the kitchen. “We’re all lucky bastards to have a singer like you messing around with us. Talk to III, we’ve got a gig coming up next week and I don’t know if we’d be half as good without ya!”

His eyes flutter as the darkness becomes staticy, rimmed on the left by faint moonlight and quiet as a grave with the whole house asleep. He thinks about II’s words. Is he in a band? If not, what’s he been doing up here all this time?

He’s not sure he can look at another crowd. Another waiting, patient collection of faces staring at his own until he does something impressive. Until the night goes on and terrible things have a chance to happen.

He shudders hard and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Can he sing for people?

For me.

A voice speaks somewhere between his mind and his eyelids.

Sing for me.

“I can scream loud enough, for you.” His mouth wraps around the words, muttering them softly with hardly a sound. His tongue darts out on his lip.

He really does love singing with bass.

His hand slips under his hoodie, spreading delicately over the bandages decorating him. His fingers are cold against his hot skin, searing between the pieces of himself and what III taped to him. It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.

His fingers travel down, grazing softly over the faintest of trails till they touch the band of III’s sweatpants.

God, he’s annoyed. He’s a good singer. Why isn’t he good enough for everyone? Why doesn’t that prick of a bassist say thank you when he makes him tea?

“I can scream loud enough...”

His fingertips push past the elastic, the slightest of tremors in his big hands for no reason he feels like guessing. He didn’t realize until right now how aroused he is by nothing in particular. It’s simply been too long, he thinks. Too long since he created release for all the sounds in his mind.

“…for you.”

For me.

“…Yes.”

After only a few minutes his eyes shoot wide open, full of pleading and hate as he cups a hand over his mouth and bites down hard enough to muffle a scream.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 23: Understatement

Pairing: Mer Mayday x Ice Dragon Reader

Summary: After coming out of stasis, you meet an exhausted commander.

Author’s Note: Crosshair in this AU went with the Bad Batch at the end of season one. So there is a reason he’s not here.

Warnings: Minor Violence. Death. One we don’t care about and two are clones. I’m sorry about the clones. May they rest in peace.

Word Count: 1258

Prompt: They say it’s lifeless, the frozen sea our frozen world is built on. But where the ice is thinnest and most dangerous, I have seen a light, faint and flickering, a cold and distant star.

Prompt 2973 by deepwaterwritingprompts

You had been asleep for a very long time. A couple millennia even. Most sea dragons had fallen into a deep slumber after the Mer Wars. The Sea Alor of the time had said to sleep after all the sea dragons had sacrificed; we deserved to rest.

However, the Mer forgot about you and the rest of your kind. Most turned to stone over the years and fell apart, never to awaken again. As you awoke, you realize that there is only one other of your kind left; their magic can barely be felt in a deep ocean fissure far away.

“Ice dragon.” You gently lift your head. “You are needed for the fight ahead. Return to Mandalore.” You slowly begin to stretch out your atrophied muscles; the call of the Sea Alor was not to be ignored.

“It will take me time, but there I shall be.” You recieve a gruff, but understanding humm in reply before the connection is severed. You turn your head up to the icy bay and begin swimming up.

Mayday hates having to keep the bay clear of thicker ice. Did he hate everything about this island he was stuck on? Absolutely. But this specific chore has a special amount of hatred attached to it. Sadly, if what remains of his men were going to get off this frozen rock, the bay has to allow a ship to get to the dock.

They didn’t have any ice or water manipulators so that just left breaking the ice with tools; their increased strength and durability as Mer being the only thing making the job possible. Also didn’t help that Veetch had to keep an eye on the perimeter so it left him and Hexx to do this chore by themselves every other day.

Mayday suddenly stops when he hears the ice creak beneath him; he’s come to a thin section. He slowly gets down on his knees and looks for something he has glimpsed only a few times. They say it’s lifeless, the frozen sea this frozen island is built on. But where the ice is thinnest and most dangerous, he has seen a light, faint and flickering, a cold and distant star. He has thought many times about swimming down in mer form to see what it is, but logic always reminds him that he would freeze to death before he got anywhere close.

While he finds the light again, he is more than suprised to see it getting closer. His heart is in his throat when he is able to see what it actually is. What you actually are.

“They’re extinct.” Mayday can’t believe his eyes even as you turn to look at him. You linger just under the frozen top of the bay.

“Move.” You warn tiredly. “I don’t want you to fall in, Mer.” He doesn’t need to be told twice and scrambles back. Once you see he’s at safe enough a distance, you ram your head through and pull yourself out onto the ice. You flop down, completely spent.

“Are they awake yet?” You groggily sit up in someplace warm at the sound. You rub your eyes; one would think staying awake after being in magical stasis so long would be easier than this.

Finally, you look down at yourself and almost jump in surprise. You’re in human form. Stars, you forgot you could even take this form when you needed to conserve magic.

“Good morning.” The bearded Mer hands you a cup with something steaming inside and you slowly take it. The other two Mer, who look identical to him, linger in the background. Your eyes linger on the sad shape of their armor for only a moment, not wanting to offend. It occurrs to you that he sounds far too much like the Sea Alor who summoned you, but you decide that’s not important at this precise moment.

“Than- Thank you.” You stumble out, far too annoyed with how your muscles in this body rebel just as much as the one’s in your true form did.

“You’re welcome.” His smile makes you pause; it’s kind, but his face looks like it hasn’t made that expression in a long time. “Now what is a dragon doing on Barton IV?”

You remain with them almost a month as you regain your strength. You grow quite close with the three men as they share what is currently going on in the outside world. Or at least up till a little over a year ago when they were stranded out here. You more than earn your keep in turn by scaring and fighting off the raiders while the three work on the base.

In fact, you are almost at full power when a squad from the empire you’ve heard so much about shows up. Mayday sneaks you out to the nearby mountains and you watch the base from a distance. You should go to Mandalore now, but you can’t in good conscience leave them here after they helped you.

To say you are viciously angry when you feel Hexx and Veetch die is an understatement. It only grows when you meet Mayday as he leaves the base; apparently he’s being sent on a suicide mission after the raiders.

“Are you certain you don’t want me to obliterate that base?” You hiss as you shake with rage. You can see his eyes soften though his t-face helmet; his mouth is covered with a rag in an attempt to stay warm.

“As tempting as that is, cyare. I do actually want to get revenge on those raiders.” You nod before following him through the passage the raiders were using. “Besides, just the Lieutenant would be perfect if you don’t mind.”

You let out a snicker in repose and you thread his fingers through yours. He gives you a squeeze in response, but continues to look forward.

This Mer has been good to you when he did not have to be. You weren’t going to let anything happen to him.

Once you are both on the other side, you shift into your dragon form. You keep them distracted while he grabs the stolen goods. It is nice to finally be rid of them when the fight is over, but nothing prepares you for finally seeing what the stolen cargo actually is. It was knocked over in the last of the fight and brand new T-K Trooper armor stares up at you and Mayday.

“We were good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?” It lingers in the frozen air after he says it. There isn’t any comfort you can think to give. It’s just cruel and wrong.

Then the ground begins to shake, precursing an avalanche. You’re up in the air with Mayday in one of your claws within seconds. You call for him to climb up and slow down for him to do so. You feel him cling to the juncher between your neck and wings as you fly through the cold cloudy sky. He sits up straighter, staring in awe as you soar past a black ice vulture.

“Let’s go kill that lieutenant.” You turn your head just enough to see him smile as you say that; the rag covering his lower face having been pushed down by the wind.

“I think I might love you.” A joyful laugh rumbles through you at that.

“And I you, Commander.” To say there was nothing left of Lieutenant Nolan by the time you and Mayday left Barton IV would have been an understatement.