#i wrote a fic for them like a really small really shitty fic

[clownhonkbonk]

theyve changed me violently.

[armysantiny]

Straight from where? – Sylus

P: Sylus x female reader | G: fluff, oneshot | Inc: mc!reader, those dreadful dark romance booktok books, office work, Mephisto being a glorified camera, a domestic morning, Sylus being compared to those shitty booktok male reads, mentioned Tara, mentioned Luka and Keiran, small mention of blood on Sylus| Wc: 1.9k | W: mentions of blood | R: G

Summary: After work, y/n’s gifted a few…interesting romance novels from a colleague at work, under the premise that Skye is just like the male love interests. The white hair, red eyes and slick motorbike? A perfect match, if Sylus actually was like the men in those dark romance books. Except he’s not, and the man in question is just as mortified to learn what y/n’s colleagues think he would do to her.

Min's notes: Remember when Sylus was intially released and people started wrongfully comparing him to those really shit male leads?? Yeah so do I which is why I wrote this out of spite. I started writing this a while ago, but it got sidetracked for my Wooyoung fic. Anyway~ enjoy almost 2k words of Sylus not being a shitty dark romance stereotype

It’s the sound of several books hitting her desk at the end of a gruelling workday that brings y/n out of her focus, fingers coming to a pause on the desktop’s keyboard. There are still the mission reports on her screen that need to be filled out, yet the new additions to her desk and her coworker’s eager expression spark curiosity. Taking a quick break to indulge in said sparked curiosities, as per a certain crow’s encouragement, shouldn’t be too bad. She’s been at this for hours anyway, safe to say she’s earned it.

So, she bites.

“What are these?” Y/n chuckles, then takes a proper look at the titles. “Romance…novels?” It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate a good book, but the titles she’s looking at are…fascinating, to say the least.

“Mhm! After Skye accompanied us on our outing last time, and since he’s been here to pick you up a few times, I figured I’d lend these for you to read!” Her fellow hunter answers, al bright-eyed and genuine. They go on a little longer, comparing Sylus—Skye, as far as her coworkers know—to the kind of dark romance male leads that are going viral online. A Zade Meadows kind of man, is the consensus y/n gets once her coworker is done explaining and bids her a good night before getting ready to head home themselves.

And while Sylus is… the way that he is, y/n’s having a hard time believing the very same leader of Onychinus would be capable of doing any of the things she’s heard these male leads do. To other people, sure, y/n’s seen Sylus exert his authority in a myriad of violent ways, but the Sylus Qin she knows is a man weak to her affections, amongst other things.

“Thanks for letting me read them,” she chooses to say after a beat, “I’ll try and get him to read them with me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the comparison.” Moments after her coworker heads out of the office and is out of earshot, y/n snorts a laugh behind her palm.

As if he’d appreciate it. Which is exactly why y/n plans on taking these books with her to Sylus’ house—castle—tonight.

Driving into the N109 Zone after a long day, a long week in fact, is comforting, the never-ending darkness surrounding y/n as she rides her bike to her destination. The broach is fastened to her coat, a silent badge of protection in the place where shadows exist even in the dark. But it’s not long until she arrives outside the front door of her home away from home, and the home of her favourite crow.

“Pretty bird..?” Y/n calls out, helmet tucked under arm as she wanders around the oddly quiet walls of Sylus’ home. Sure, her bike is parked out front, and the hunter very clearly recalls hearing distinct caws as she left work, but the sprawling expanse of a home is pin-drop silent. Even by N109 standards, it’s quiet. Slipping her shoes off in favour of comfortable slippers, y/n continues her search, her helmet discarded on a side-cabinet.

An endless swath of doors, that’s what y/n decides Sylus’ home is after she opens the nth door to no success. Just where is this man?

Familiar hands wrap around her waist.

“Hello, sweetie.” Sylus smiles, cradling his hunter close against his chest. There are traces of blood on his clothes, a smear or two across his cheek, but that doesn’t matter. Not when his y/n has come all this way to see him. What an honour he’s been bestowed. “A pretty kitten decided to come all this way just to see me. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Do you enjoy scaring the hell out of me?” Y/n complains, trailing her words off with warm laughter that he could drown himself in. “Anyway, where have you been? The house was dead silent, it was weird. Thought you weren’t doing anything today.”

“I had to take care of some… last-minute business with the twins, it kept me longer than I’d have liked.” He admits, unfurling his arms from around y/n’s delectable waist when she wriggles around to go do something. There’s a pep in her step, an excitement that Sylus knows very well means she’s up to something. Or she has something to show him. Either is good.

But there’s still the pressing matter of blood on him and his clothes.

“I’ll head into the shower, sweetie.”

Heading out of the shower a full thirty minutes later and noticeably blood-free, Sylus is met with a stack of books on his dresser as he reaches for his robe, y/n watching him from her spot on the edge of his bed. It doesn’t take long, just a couple of glances between the literature and y/n, for him to come to his conclusion.

“I didn’t know we were expanding our library,” he purrs, sneaking in a forehead kiss and bringing some of the books with his Evol. “Did you buy these? Pardon the assumption, kitten, but I know your taste and… this isn’t exactly it.”

She snickers and oh, he’s not wrong. He’s being set up, lovingly, of course.

“Well, if these aren’t your taste,” he says, “enlighten me with your plans, since we’re evidently going to be reading these for the next few days.”

And, well. The next few days are interesting, to say the least.

He peruses the novels in between meetings, digesting chapter after somewhat delusional chapter, disbelief nearly a permanent expression on his face each time one of these novels are in his hands. How anyone finds any of this… literature, something of actual substance is a mystery and the sooner he can give these sorry excuses for published books back to y/n to return to her colleague, the better. Everything about the ‘romance’ stories he’s been reading leaves a rotten taste in his mouth, worsened further by the fact that this is how y/n’s colleagues think Sylus treats his beloved.

All accusations that couldn’t be further from the truth. Frankly, he’s a little insulted.

He should go and correct this mistake.

“Boss! We’ve got a lead on the group peddling fraudulent weapons out of the old warehouse!” Kieran announces, Luke already heading off to the armoury to gear up. “Shall we get the jump on them?”

So much for seeing his pretty hunter tonight. He’ll just have Mephisto watch her instead.

Just what is so good about these anyway? It’s the only thing that’s been on y/n’s mind all night, tucked in bed with one of the dark romance novels out of the set she’d given to Sylus. A flask of jasmine tea sits on her bedside drawer, the drink and her several plushies around her bed much more interesting than the book in her hand.

If she’s having such a hard time right now, sure her favourite crow isn’t faring any better. She can almost see it now; the displeased hum, his lips curled into a frown and the distinct furrow of his brows.

And of course, the only thing better than thinking about a grumbling Sylus, is to see it in person. Obviously.

Humming along to her playlist early on in the morning as she goes about preparing breakfast, y/n startles at the knock on her door. It’s god-awfully early today, ruling out anyone she could think of off the top of her head. Her hunting partner doesn’t get up for a few more hours at the very least, and there’s no delivery to pick up…

“Morning to you too, sweetie. Off to work?” Sylus grins as she opens the front door, bending down to greet her and with a familiar looking stack of books tucked away under his arm. “Why don’t I drop you off? You can take these back with you as well.”

“How did you know I had to get to work early today?” Y/n certainly doesn’t remember texting Sylus anything other than good morning and a series of happy crow emojis, so she watches him step inside and look towards her balcony. Locking the door behind her before following his line of sight, y/n deadpans.

The crow is there. What a surprise.

“So, would you like that lift to work, kitten?”

Sylus’ motorcycle comes to a stop outside the doors of the Hunter’s Association, the hum of the engine replaced by a fresh dawn breeze as y/n removes her helmet. Her bag is several times heavier, courtesy of Sylus’ effective persuasion during breakfast. Persuasion she couldn’t exactly say no to.

“Sweetie, you can’t possibly believe any of this is good reading material,” Sylus groans, leaning against y/n’s kitchen counter while she eats breakfast. It’s probably the most offended she’s seen him in a while, and out of everything that could annoy Sylus this much, it’s the borrowed book in his hand. “This is frankly a waste of paper and the publisher’s expertise, who allowed this to be released to the public?”

Trying not to laugh through a mouthful of food is proving quite the challenge.

“Some really stubborn people, I imagine. Safe to say you don’t agree with the author’s version, then?” Y/n replies, finishing the rest of her breakfast, pure satisfaction on her face at Sylus’ indignant grumblings. It certainly makes up for Mephisto watching her from the balcony like a glorified spy camera. “Here I was think you didn’t care much for romance. Silly me~”

“The only silly thing here, sweetheart,” his voice echoes out, in time with large, warm hands wrapping around y/n’s waist. “Is the ridiculous notion your colleagues have that I’d be anything like the bastards in those books. Where did that idea come from, hm?”

Surely he’s just messing with her.

“You know exactly why, c’mon.”

“No, enlighten me.”

Her desk is just as tidy as it was when she left it, except for a croissant and her favourite morning coffee from Tara. Setting herself up doesn’t take too long, and all y/n’s left with are the books she needs to return. Books she’d rather never have to look at or read again, thanks very much. Though, there’s nothing she can do about it just yet, when the book’s owner has yet to show up.

With remarkably little callouts, there’s nothing much else for y/n to do but catch up on her remaining reports. Her hands fly across the keyboard, filling out line after line with practically no interruption.

“Y/n!” The same voice from last time calls out, breaking her out of her concentration as her colleague bounds over with enthusiasm. “How were those books I lent you? Any good?”

…is there a polite way to say absolutely horrifying and utterly dreadful?

“Definitely pretty interesting,” Y/n nods, pushing her chair away from her desk to reach for her bag. Might as well return the affronts to literature to their proper owner while she’s at it. “Skye had a read of a few as well, don’t think he’ll be reading anymore now.”

The books exchange hands, finally out of her possession, and y/n’s phone buzzes. Of course it does. Of course he’s watching.

Pretty Bird: Finally, took you long enough sweetie. Good riddance [12:54]

Pretty Bird: Let’s agree to never punish our eyes with that garbage ever again. Deal? [12:54]

Miss Hunter: As long as you agree to pick me up after work, Sy [12:56]

Pretty Bird: Then I guess we have a deal. See you after work, my love [13:00]

© copyright work of armysantiny 2025-2026

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Taglist: @freakywonbin | Taglist Form

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs�� and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

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

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[elizzsush]

Escape Reality | Part 0

PAIRINGS: Batfam X Reader (platonic), Jason Todd X Reader (romantic)

—Why did you choose to get a dog? And why did you choose to walk him before the beginning of a storm? Well… you can’t say you regret it.

AU/Trope: Isekai

Rating: SFW (as always)

❥ [Part 0] - [Part 1] (not yet out)

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A/Note: Heavily inspired by the amazing and incredible @daydreams-to-passages ! They wrote something I hadn’t even thought of which evolved into this fic! I really just expanded on their ideas so this is like 70% them! This is a little short but it's really just a prologue.

Oh, and lastly: if you know me IRL no you fucking don’t!

________________________________

When you got a dog… well, every dog owner knows the joys of walking their perfectly well behaved dog. It's sometimes the best thing in the world! If you were to pick up into a light jog, your puppies ears would flap up and down- his fur blowing back as a nice breeze and cool weather egg you on for more of that same old walking.

But no, when you got a dog… well let’s just say you weren’t prepared to actually own a dog. You had just moved to New York, into a shitty cramped apartment, and you were lonely and depressed and what’s a good fix for all that? Getting a dog! A larger then a corgi sized dog. Weighing in at around 50 pounds was your new pride and joy! Your new terror and the reason why you now stay up later thinking “why the hell did I get a dog when I can’t afford my own food?” You made a choice and now your life was unraveling around you because of said choice.

But… you also felt guilty. It wasn’t erm… “Fido”’s choice to live with you. So you’d buy his food before your own just to make sure you can afford his, and you’d try and take him on walks every single day. Because, that small crappy apartment is doing nothing for “Buddy”…?

So yes, walking a dog is so relaxing and fun! If you can afford to take the time or buy training classes where they teach him how to… walk on a leash.

BARK BARK BARK!!

“The pigeons are gone, dude!” You huff and tug him away from the side of the sidewalk- across you was the park, where a lovely old women was feeding birds. Keyword: was. You dog… “bear”, was so unstimulated and just badly behaved… it often left you so very embarrassed and put out. So even after “Baxter” started his walk on again- satisfied with his bird scaring talents, he still tugged forward because you were apparently too slow by his standards. So, walking “Max” was great! Amazing even. What wasn’t great was… well you had hoped you’d be home by now, you had read the weather was getting cloudier but hey- a little water never hurt anyone?

Except everyone on the titanic.

The worst part? The damn dog was loving every bit of the rain, he even sat his ass down to chop on the rain above him!! Everyday you were a little more convinced he hated you… just when things couldn’t have been worse, a stupid DUMB cat appeared! It ran right in front of you and “buster” into an alley!

Listen, you had calmed down on the leash tugging since the damn dog sat down- you didn’t expect a cat! So yes, Mr “Duke” got away from you… THE FUCKING DOG GOT AWAY FROM YOU. You gave chase after a cat and a dog… no you’ll totally win this race!

And if you couldn’t have been miserable enough, you hit a fucking brick wall…

But… hey wait, you could have sworn you dog and that cat went this way…

Your nose was bleeding, you had checked it with your hand… and now you were blacking out. Thunder struck and that was the last thing you saw…

Then you died, much like the second robin did.

Actually, he died pretty heroically and was murdered by a super villain. You ran into a wall.

You also didn't die.

"What the actual fuck." You whined as you sat up and held you head. Great, now you had a headache on top of this rain... You were in an alleyway still. Sadly, that didn't change since you passed out. But for some reason it felt... colder? The whole neighbor streets turned dark and cold you realized once you stood up walked around. Everything just looked duller, less color, it felt like an invisible fog laid across the streets. The rain picked up harder, like some God or deity was trying to wash the city away. The building had turned to cool greys and blacks with pops of graffiti in the long narrow alleys. "What the actual fuck?" You spun around to look at more of... where you supposedly lived, trying to figure out what just happened.

In the distance, you can hear erm... your dog barking. Panic swelled in your chest like an ugly bruise. Darting towards the sound you calmed down slightly when you saw your dog sat nicely staring at a man. A man who was eating a hot dog in the pouring rain...

"No can't have my chili dog," scolded a black-haired stranger as you finally see your beloved dog. Both of them were standing under something, protecting the male from the rain while your poor pouch was already a wet dog. Just when the stranger was about to cave to your dog's whims and argumentative barks you shouted out.

"Dog," You yelled out and the pup's ears perked up. still, you pup was still for once in his life and not causing... too much trouble. His attention was now on you, but he still didn't move away from the man with food.

This action- or lack of action made you sigh. Glancing around, you couldn't help but notice the complete lack of people nearby.

"Dog, what does it not got a man?" The man asked absentmindedly, like he was more talking to himself then he was to you. Thankfully you had just closed the gap between the two of you when he said it, so you didn't miss his words.

Admittedly, you didn't give your dog a name... Nothing seemed to stick out or fit. "No- His name is uh... Dog..." You tried to defend yourself against the- on second glance- attractive male.

"You named your dog... Dog?" He raised an eyebrow, and you shrunk in a little more on yourself.

"Erm... Yes?" You doubled down...

"Okay," He accepted it with a little blink, and you'll miss it eyeroll. "Does Dog know any tricks?" He asked as he finished his hotdog and knelt down to pet... Dog.

You blushed a bit because... You hadn't taught Dog any tricks yet. You had gotten him a months ago, so he was still a somewhat fresh face... "He knows sit." He knows the basics of sit; his success rate with that trick was 30%, this stranger didn't need to know that though.

The stranger hummed like he didn't believe you. He shouldn't have but you still felt offended.

Wait, this guy looked a lot like... It was the black hair with a little white streak in it really, it reminded you so strongly of the second robin even to his leather jacket.

"Are you cosplaying," came out of your mouth before you could even think about the words properly. With a hand now smacked onto your mouth you looked away from the man with a hint of humiliation at his confused expression. "I mean- You'd make a really good Jason." You corrected only to see the male give a more... curious look.

"Todd, from DC," You added, hoping to clear away his curiosity. "Jason todd..." You added more when you realized this was probably getting nowhere, and you weren't in a place mentally to describe the whole robin situation- nor would he probably care enough...

"DC? Do you mean WE?" The male corrected with a hint of a smirk, like he knew something you didn't. "He's that guy's son, right? Before he died."

You couldn't help but frown. "Well yeah- I mean he came back... Are we talking about the same thing?" You sighed, looking at you pup now. You should really just take him home- cut the walk short. Just when you thought of that however, the stranger seemed to find that perfect spot behind Dog's ear and he leaned more into the Ex-Robin look-a-likes hand,

"He came back?" The male questioned; you just shook your head. You had gotten into a DC rant one to many times to get into one now, in the middle of pouring rain. While you sighed to yourself about that, you missed his suspicious looked and the way he began to eye you...

"What's WE?" You asked instead.

That was when he looked at you as if you didn't know anything. "You don't know Wayne Enterprises?"

[rockyteriyaki]

i wasn’t quite able to finish my other halloween fic in time for the deadline, so i dragged out a carcar snippet and wrote a little bit for a tumblr fic! 1.5k words, guardian angel au 🪽 @motorsport-halloween

The first place they steer him after a race is the guardian angels tent.

It’s small, made of slippy plastic tarping and held up by thin aluminum, cheap like everything in F3. Water slides off the top and pours down the sides in a clear curtain. Today, there are more guardians than usual: a dense cube of feathers packed together to avoid the worsening storm. Probably because everyone and their mother was sliding around the track just now. Perilously.

Oscar stands on his tiptoes from his spot under an awning, trying to profile the crowd before running out in the downpour. He’s seen his angel exactly one time before- when he’d gotten into a particularly nasty collision and had to retire from a race. He remembers dark wings, dark eyebrows, dark eyes. An accented voice not that much older than his own.

“That was stupid. Do not- like that, you shouldn’t. Be smarter.”

Oscar had just stood there, gaping. Hadn’t closed his mouth until his angel had sort of huffed and turned away, back to the tent. The sparkling rip in the atmosphere was starting to stitch itself up, by then, swirling plastic cones into it like a vacuum. Saved by the bell. It hadn’t been until after he’d left that Oscar realized what he’d really wanted to say was fuck off.

Now, Oscar watches the rest of the grid flock to the tent, skittering in under the rain and finding their angels. He watches them idly recount their race stories to various levels of enthusiasm, subject themselves to pat-downs and wellness checks and lectures as needed. There’s genuine affection in their touches, especially in those whose drivers lost control of their cars or locked up in the rain. Who maybe got a little bit closer to the edge. When he gets to F1, this part won’t be televised, but it’ll be more thorough and more often. Because he’ll be closer to the edge, every single race.

But Oscar was pretty damn close today and his angel isn’t here, so. Maybe not.

Halfway through the F2 season, Oscar decides he officially hates his angel.

Whenever he feels his tires start to slip, whenever he clips the barrier or botches a turn, the adrenaline that rises in his throat is partially because he thinks that maybe his angel will have felt it. That he’ll be waiting for him under the tent or in the cooldown room, this time, and his dark eyes will be filled with something other than cool indifference. Like, a shred of concern for Oscar’s life, maybe. But he’s not, and he never is, and Oscar kind of really hates him.

The next time he sees him is in a bland conference room with Mark, his legal squadron and the team principal of Alpine who’s name Oscar can never remember. His black hair catches the shitty fluorescent-looking light of his halo and Oscar almost walks right back out.

“What is this,” he whispers to Mark. It’s not a hiss. “Why is he here.”

“I have to be here. To make sure your life is not ruined,” his angel says, at full volume. Oscar dislikes him so much.

“You are so—“ Oscar starts and doesn’t finish, which is a tactic he uses when he’d like to say something rude but shouldn’t. “Wait.” He turns to Mark. “Is my life about to be ruined?”

Mark inhales, reaching for his manila folder. The Alpine people wince. His angel waggles his incredibly thick eyebrows.

Oscar doesn’t sign with Alpine. He gets a text from an unknown number that says “See you should listen to me yes?” and he thinks about doing something crazy like throwing his phone against the wall. Instead, he shoves it under his sweatshirt and lets it rest against his stomach. It goes up and down as he breathes.

The issue is that his angel doesn’t leave.

Apparently he has to stick around until the ink is dry on Oscar’s contract, now that he’s waded into this whole mess. He has a little phone-like thing, sleek and rectangular, that lights up every once in awhile with indecipherable notifications about the state of Oscar’s life, or whatever. Oscar is 99% he has it on whatever the all-seeing equivalent of “do not disturb” is. He’s the worst.

“What’s his name again?” Oscar asks, around a mouthful of eggs.

“Carlos,” Mark says.

“Carlos,” Oscar seethes.

“You’re gonna have to nut up, mate,” Mark says. He sounds tired. “It’s standard procedure.”

Oscar wants to ask if it’s standard procedure to be concussed and have the doctors at the track refuse to take you to A&E without guardian angel signoff, and for that signoff to never arrive because your angel can’t be fucked, but he doesn’t.

Carlos is never around unless it’s to steer Oscar away from people and look smug. After the seventieth awkward handshake with the shadow of Carlos looming over his shoulder like an overgrown, disapproving hawk, he pulls him into a corner.

“Can you just tell me what I’m meant to do?”

“What do you mean,” Carlos says. It would have sounded sarcastic, if he hadn’t physically flopped his head to the side as he said it. Something evil settles around Oscar’s heart.

“My fate. My destiny, God’s plan, whatever the fuck, I just—I can do it myself. Please.” It comes out a little bit more desperate than he intends, but still north of begging, so he chalks it up as a point.

“No, I cannot,” Carlos says. “This is my job. Sorry,” he adds, because Oscar has the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes.

“Okay, so what if I—I dunno, disobey you?”

“Then you are making a big mistake,” Carlos says, so solemnly. His wings twitch a little bit, rising and flexing through his shoulder blades. Oscar swallows.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I can. This is my job,” Carlos repeats. His wings flare even further. The tips of the darker feathers almost block out the light, closing Oscar into the corner.

“I’ll sign with Alpine,” Oscar challenges. He doesn’t really want to do that, but there’s some kind of rabbity panic jumping around in his chest and making him stupid. “I could. They want me.”

“They don’t.” Carlos’ eyes are blazing the same neon as his halo. He could be seeing all possible futures right now, for all Oscar knows, and yet he still sounds like a moody toddler, shooting down everything Oscar says.

“I’ll show you the contract, mate, they definitely do.” Oscar is no better than him, apparently.

Except maybe he is, because Carlos steps forward until they’re practically chest-to-chest. All Oscar can see in his periphery are reflections of halo-light and Carlos’ heaving chest, his aquiline nose. “You don’t even—“

Somewhere, an alarm starts going off.

Carlos says something in Spanish, short and sharp. His eyes are wide. He fishes his angel-phone-thing out of his jeans. It’s angry red, flashing and beeping and buzzing all at once. An instinctive panic rockets through Oscar, far away from the warm anticipatory one from a few seconds ago.

“Isn’t that,” Oscar says. Clears his throat. “Um, is that bad?”

“Shit,” Carlos says in English. He does something weird, after that: like his whole body flickering, disappearing for a few milliseconds and then popping back in. “Shit. Oscar. We just—you just made a mistake.”

His accent makes it sound more deliberate. Mees-tek. “What? No, I didn’t.”

You’re not supposed to, like, try to kill your angel, but if Carlos thinks that’s what just happened then he’s even more delusional that Oscar had thought. Actually, it had been sort of exactly the opposite. Carlos had been so close, it was like—Oscar was worried he might—forget himself, or something. Try to do something crazy. Like grab Carlos’ hair and shove his head down and feel his nose against his throat.

Carlos shows him his phone screen. The text, in some archaic angel language, unscrambles before Oscar’s eyes. IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION REQUIRED, it says, scrolling across the top. Then, in bolded lettering in the middle: This message is for CARLOS SAINZ regarding OSCAR PIASTRI. Oscar’s eyes skip around the paragraph, can’t quite take any of it in. They’re not going to let Carlos leave. The angel system—fate, destiny, whatever—registered a god-tier fuckup on Oscar’s part, and they won’t let Carlos leave until he fixes it.

“What did you do?” Carlos asks, his voice annoyingly even as his phone wails and shakes in his hand. “Oscar, what did you do? Did you really sign with Alpine? You take it back and I will be gone, I promise.”

Oscar wants to say it’s just as much Carlos’ fault as it is his, but he can’t quite get the words out around the sudden, vicious longing to have Carlos squared up against him again, ready to fight, so he can watch it all drain out of him. He wants to take him apart, enact his revenge, put him back together again better and more tolerable than he was before.

MISTAKE, Carlos’ angel-cell cries. MISTAKE.

[cattjull]

Sugary sweet

summary: You were supposed to go to a party tonight. Abby receives you at her home, though, crying about not having permission from your parents to go.

a/n: I'm so sorry for not posting but honestly I'm really really depressed since a few months ago and I cannot bring myself to do anything good or productive enough. I don't even think this passes my quality check but at this point and due to my inconsistency nobody will even remember I wrote fics once soo... Please enjoy or something :)

cw: implied age gap but not specified!

Abby laid down on her side, wet hair clinging to her skin and cascading down her neck and sprawling on her pillow, small droplets falling from her loose, golden hair onto the bedsheets and her pajamas like molten gold looking for a form in which to solidify.

It was 12 p.m. in a normal Friday night, which normally meant she could stay up to whenever she felt like it, go to bed anytime and mindlessly scroll down on her phone or read a book until she decided to turn all of her lights off, text you her usual good night message and drift off to sleep, her pillow being an one-way ticket to the land of dreams which you had took over and claimed as yours ever since you guys started dating.

But this was one of those nights. Those where you'd go out to some party and she'd be going to bed late without inviting anyone over or going out, where she wouldn't pay attention to her phone or get distracted with other simple activities because of her excessive worries, often finding herself fidgeting with her rings, adjusting her glasses, or eating fruits just because of her anxiety.

She loved you a lot, too much even but sometimes she didn't have enough stamina to be your company in parties, even if she really tried to attend with you almost always. She really didn't enjoy that lifestyle, mundane parties with shitty music and potentially dangerous people, but oh guess who does! Her girlfriend.

She feels lucky to have you, truly. It's not like she was planning on sleeping until you texted her you got home safe, but her mind started divagating somewhere far away from the book she held between her big hands and she just knew that, once again, she'd spent worrying over you at least until 4 a.m., maybe even after you texted her you were safe in your house. So she took off her glasses and placed the book down on her nightstand, signing loudly and preparing herself for another sleepless night.

You may be having fun in your friend's party, where you obviously invited her but she refused, knowing you'd most likely end up alternating your time between gossiping with your friends and clinging onto her while the others ignored her, which made her feel unwanted by them.

Maybe there was someone flirting with you and you were too drunk to tell them to stop. Maybe you were flirting with someone and tomorrow you'd call her like nothing talking to her about how much you hate hangovers. Maybe you were crying because someone was mean to you. Maybe you were doing something stupid. How could she know?

Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by the small sound coming from her window. It sounded like a small rock: there it was, your signature way of getting into her house. She didn't know why but everything about your behaviour was so sweet and dumb, just as any teenager but make it cute romantic comedy like. Everything you did was a small reminder of the small age gap between you two, which made her feel guilty every time.

She got closer to the window and saw you standing there with your eyes looking slightly red and swollen, as if you had been smoking weed, with your mini bag being clutched to your waist with one hand while the other waved at her. She quickly rushed downstairs, not even bothering to put her slippers on, and unlocked the door for you.

Luckily, her dad was out in the hospital so he wouldn't wake up by the sound of her feet pattering on the wooden floor or the tinkering of the keys or... Anything else you'd be doing.

When the blue eyed girl opened the door, she took in your appearance, noticing you had the same clothes that you had worn a few hours ago when you sent her nudes and a really thoughtful video. You told her that would be your outfit for the party, so why were you in her house if this hour wasn't even close to the one you usually would be going home?

Her orbs shamelessly fixed on you, and how couldn't they when taking you in felt so natural? After what felt like an eternity, Abby started functioning again and regained her speech. "Babe... What happened with the party?" She questioned.

"My parents didn't want me to go. So I escaped. Sorry for not telling you but they took my phone away." You explained, in that moment you felt so angry you were crying, something you were deeply ashamed of to be honest. Your voice was completely sweet towards her when you didn't talk about your parents, though. Abby cupped your face with her warm, big hands, noticing you hadn't been smoking anything. Your pretty eyes were spilling diamond tears.

"You'll stay with me tonight, honey." She reassured you. "I'm not driving you to that party, yeah?" You immediately smiled and hugged her, burying the side of your face in her god-sculptured chest and nuzzling your cheek against her. "I'll do as you say." You obeyed lovingly.

"I bet you prefer me over those parties, sweetheart." She replied with a soft smile.

"Of course I do. You're the best Abby, I love you so much and I'd choose you over anything, okay?" You reassured her, causing her to giggle at your directness. That kind of words often came out of your mouth by themselves, as always you praised her. As if you just quoted every love song you heard.

"Didn't you bring anything by the way?" She asked as she hugged you back, embracing you with her buff, juicy arms and picking you up.

"I brought my toothbrush, makeup and fifty dollars." You said, prideful of your improvised packing skills as she held you up to her body with one arm, using the other hand to close and lock the door.

"Pretty good." She nodded with approval, heading upstairs.

Last time you escaped home for something like this, you had brought your phone charger (your phone was taken), a bar of chocolate, your earphones (again, your phone was taken) and no money.

"I know." You smiled and placed a kiss in her clavicle. In Abby's room, she sat down as you straddled her, shifting so you were using her chest as a pillow as she laid on actual ones, staring down at you.

"You aren't really... Crying anymore." She commented, caressing your cheekbone as she observed the change in your mood.

"No. I stopped crying when you picked me up. Guess I was happy to see you." You confessed, kissing her cheek.

"Is that so?" She questioned with affection, caressing your hair.

"You know you heal my heart, Abby." You whispered before kissing her. It was velvety, wet, and sweet. Abby's lips were the cake to your sickly sweet frosting, joining together on a wet and tender kiss, intertwining your souls and tying them up together with an invisible string without even knowing it. That's just how you were.

[olderthannetfic]

Writing about my favorite characters as transgender has opened my eyes to how many people in fandom are able to get away with actual transphobia without other people judging them for it, and after one particularly bad experience I feel like I can't participate in fandom without constantly having to check people's profiles and social media to see whether or not they might secretly hate trans people. The fandom I currently write for is relatively small compared to others, but somehow I still manage to catch a lot of casual transphobia, especially on my higher-kudos'd works. This didn't really bother me at first since most of the comments were misinformed but rather harmless otherwise, with most asking me to write a fic where the MC medically transitions to become their "real gender" as a sequel. Those comments were written politely, but the sentiment that a person's body designates their gender bothered me a lot. I specifically present the trans characters in my fics as pre-op or non-op without dysphoria in order to feel more comfortable about my own body, and I'm really tired of reiterating the reasons why I personally won’t create a fic where the MC undergoes a full medical transition. I would be thrilled if someone else wrote that, but it’s not a concept I have any interest in executing myself.

Usually the casual transmedicalism in my comments is my only real gripe about the attitudes towards transness in my fandom, but recently I joined a major fandom discord server and found out that they had a dedicated thread for bashing my work. (Well, to be more accurate they had a bunch of threads for bashing people's works, but mine had the most messages at the time.) I should have just left at that point, but I was curious to see if there was any valid criticism because honestly I don’t get a lot of constructive feedback on my newer stuff and I wanted to see if there was anywhere I could improve. Unfortunately, it was almost entirely just really hurtful comments, with many people making assumptions about my body and offline identity, calling me a fake trans person and a chaser for the things I've written. They kept going on about how I'm fetishizing transness, how I probably just wanted an excuse to write het smut with an M/M tag on it, how I'm probably not actually a trans man but an obsessed and misguided teenage girl instead. I've been on T for over two years now, but even if I wasn’t, their belief that all bodies like mine are basically "female" was really upsetting. Maybe I just happened to stumble upon a bad crowd, but at that moment I just really felt alone. I never expected to receive that kind of vitriol in such a small fandom - I have maybe like five or so people who follow my work closely, so it's not like I'm hitting super big numbers compared to others. I understand that my work might be dysphoria-inducing for other people, but I include warnings for language at the beginning of all my fics and I'm extremely thorough about tagging all the sex acts that take place. It's easy to filter out my work via additional tags if you don’t want to see it. But no matter how many measures I take to make others feel more comfortable, they still feel like I'm taking up too much space and mucking up the tags with my fanfiction.

Part of me feels like quitting after this experience, but I'm also a spiteful bastard and I think it would haunt me forever if I stopped now lol. I'm curious to know if you or any of your followers has ever dealt with a similar situation (as in, finding out there's a bunch of people who hate your work for shitty reasons), and if you have advice on how to continue interacting with others in fandom without constantly wondering if they hate me behind closed doors. I left the server already but I'm sure there's other things I can do that I'm forgetting. Thanks for reading!!

--

There will always be people who dislike you for silly reasons, and if your fic is popular, there will be a lot of them. The only way to deal with it is to just accept that this is normal and not think about them.

[feyd-meowtha]

@middlingmay's Fic Rec Questions

I saw this list and thought it would be fun to give it a go!!

1) Fic that's made you laugh the most

He May Be The Reason by @c-goldthorn. It's a Clegan Notting Hill au and it makes me squeal with delight. So cute that I got distracted while reading it and missed my stop on the train.

2) A fic that made you cry

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by pillar of our community @swifty-fox. I'm sure most ppl have probably read this one but it's such an amazing post-show continuation that really doesn't pull it's punches when it comes to both PTSD and the realities of being gay in the 40s

3) Fave comfort, silly fic

It's a little rogue but I'm gonna say Awake, Alive by the wonderful @whirlpool-blogs. It's a pet sematary au so not exactly what you would call traditionally comforting but the ending makes me so happy and the whole thing is just a joy. The fact that this came to mind when I thought 'comfort fic' is probably pretty telling about me as a person....

4) The fic that made you try a genre or trope that you don't usually read

This is also a bit rogue but it was tricky since I'll read anything, so I'll go with Strings of the Strings of Life by the lovely @weimarweekly, not because of any of the content but because I don't, as a general rule, read Dune fic that was written after Dune 2 released. I've bored everyone to tears with my complaints about that version of Feyd but it is what it is so I tend not to like any fics written about that version of the character BUT the prospect of a feydpaul Berlin techno au was too delicious to resist and the whole fic is so fun. It makes me miss Germany sooo bad.

5) An author who has inspired your own fic writing

This one has got to go to the anonymous author of both Close And Yet Closer and The Replacement. Both of these fics are god tier and their character psychology and willingness to allow their versions of the characters and relationships to be ugly and messy are so inspiring to me. They were also the first person in the John/Hausman tag on ao3 which is currently just me and them. I think about the replacement all the time and it was a HUGE influence on 3am Eternal. If I can ever write half as well as them I will die happy.

6) What are your fave underdog authors? Those that you feel are underappreciated and deserve a bit more love

Hmmm, this is kinda hard cus the MOTA fandom is pretty small so I feel like a lot of stuff gets decent buzz. Imma shout out @whirlpool-blogs again and especially their fucked up clegans fics, I have read and reread all of their works and they're always so so good. I will also add @steeseman for Up In Our Bedroom. It's another great post-canon fic and while it has a lot of hits, I don't think I've seen anyone talking about it on here.

7) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did more of when it comes to fanfiction.

The obvious one is comment, it really does make my day when I get a nice comment, even just a couple words or an emoji mean a lot. The other thing I would say is writing curt/Kenny fic, there's not much out there and I want more please. Also more fics where characters relationships are like genuinely kind of fucked up and toxic. I love that shit.

8) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did less of when it comes to fanfiction.

Oh man, I really do not know. The only thing I can think of is that I hate the word 'yap' or 'yapping' so if I see it in a fic I shudder. Hmmmm, I guess I also wish that there was a little more consideration when writing Gale's dad as an alcoholic because it's often treated as the basis for him being a shitty person. Addicts aren't automatically bad people and I sometimes feel like it's portrayed that way. @blixabargelds wrote an excellent post on this

9) I'm adding an extra one and that is current WIPs I am reading

Sympathy For The Devil by @blixabargelds, it's a modern ghost hunting AU and the set up is AMAZING. I will also throw Superstar in here even though it's not releasing main story chapters yet, everything Frankie writes is so tailored to my personal tastes it's crazy and I am so excited to read @mildharm's John POV chapters too. Literally foaming at the mouth thinking about it rn. When it starts being released fully, I fear it may kill me.

Love Song From A Dog and The Heart Is A Muscle by @swifty-fox. I've only just started THIAM but I'm so hyped for their take on the tattoo shop/flower shop au.

Hit Me Where The Heart Is by @london-cowboy makes me legitimately insane. I jump for joy whenever there is a new update, these versions of the characters and their stories are, as Paris Hilton would say, beyond. I do not have the words to say how much I am loving this fic. The characters and setting feel so real and it's just so creative. AMAZING.

I need to get around to starting let us not desert one another; we are an injured body and also the time skip fic whose name escapes me by @irregularcollapse and also catching up with @weimarweekly's rodeo fic, Looking For Eight

Writing this was very fun and I encourage anyone reading to give it a go if they fancy it!!

[wizzdot]

Star Crossed

A little fic series idea. Thinking a slow burn Simon x reader. I know I’m mixing old and new Ghost. Do I care? No.

Ok but what if ….

You’re Beth’s best friend. You tried to warn her not to mix with the Riley family, having been a couple of classed below Simon and Tommy at school. She didn’t listen..

You hate Mr Riley for how he treated his sons. You took self defence classes when Beth started dating Tommy, just in case, y’know? You noticed the marks and bruises Tommy would wear to school. Simon hardly attended school and when he did, he wore matching bruises. Sometimes even burns. It boggled your mind that the school didn’t ever say anything.

That’s why it shocked you that Beth decided to date the older Riley brother.

You’re around Tommy when he got addicted to drugs and alcohol, and you saw Simon again, when he was home between missions. He is high up in the army apparently.. He is stand-offish and brutish, you decide. You no longer saw him as the small, blonde child with bruises and marks all over his arms.. he is built like a shit brick house. Still covered in faded marks and scars. His hair is no longer bright blonde, now a much dirtier colour. Seemed fitting really.

You offered Tommy and Beth a safe space in your flat to help with Tommy’s sobriety after years of addiction and to help them get some savings. And to get them away from Riley Snr. Bastard of a man.

Turned out, after 6 months of lessons, you’re real good at self defence and you decided to try out for the army, having had a run of a few bad waitressing jobs and shitty bar work. You got accepted first try.

You visited Tommy and Beth when you could. They were practically living in your empty flat in Manchester at that point. While you were deployed for the first time, Simon apparently returned home and bet the shit out of his dad and threw him out of the family home, so Tommy and Beth wrote a letter to you, saying that they’re moving home, and vacating your flat.

Guess Simon isn’t so bad after all.. good for him, kicking his prick of a father to the curb.

You met Simon properly, again, at Tommy and Beth’s wedding. You were head Bridesmaid. Beth looked stunning, and Tommy stayed sober all night even though the drinks were flowing. Simon acted like he has a stick up his ass the entire night though.. always on edge. He looked nice in his fancy Army suit though.

A few months later, when you returned from deployment, Beth picked you up from the barracks with a blue balloon, and an ultrasound, and a very clearly swollen stomach. She was pregnant with Tommy’s child.

You’d been upgraded to Sergeant. You were one of the highest scoring women to ever reach the rank. You were proud of your achievement. The extra pay check bump got put into a savings account for your little nephew, Joseph. A little boy you’d fallen in love with through pictures and videos sent by Beth and Tommy. They were doing well. You were so proud of them.

You returned from Russia for Joseph’s first birthday. You gifted him his own little mini set of dog tags. “Joseph Riley. Love always, your Tee Tee” engraved on them. Joseph had started babbling. Beth had tried her best to film him saying Auntie. But he only ever managed Tee Tee. That was your title. You’d wear it with pride.

Tommy seemed stressed. Apparently he hadn’t heard from Simon for a while. You tried to comfort him. “You know how it is, he is a lieutenant now. Doing all the important secretive stuff! He’ll be off grid, the only man who could kill Simon Riley, is Simon Riley” you joked.

The truth was, you’d never crossed paths with Simon. Never spotted his towering form, or dirty blonde mop of hair at the barracks. Never recognised his face amongst other soldiers. But Tommy didn’t need to know that. He liked the fact that you and Simon ‘worked together’..

Your leave was set to end the following day but Beth barrelled through from the kitchen, slamming her tea down that she’d made, not 5 minutes earlier, shouting at you for ignoring your phone. “Your army friends are calling you, they have a celebration that you’re supposed to be at. Go. GO. Don’t you DARE miss it because of us!” She practically shoved you out of the house, and forced you to attend the party.

Tommy and Beth bid you a joyful farewell that night. Promising to see you when you next came home on leave. You promised you’d try to get your birthday booked off, but no guarantees seeing as you were a sergeant.

You attended the party at base, and deployed back out to Mexico the next day, feeling pleased that Beth, Tommy and little Joseph were doing so well.

You didn’t know that’d be the last time you’d see them, and that just a few hours after you’d left for the party, your three pillars of strength were assassinated.

It felt like a cruel trick of fate. You broke. Hard. You went off the rails. You crumbled even further, when you learnt that you’d left a couple of hours too early. If you’d have stayed, you could have defended them. You would have fought with your life. You slipped further when you learnt, at their funeral, that Simon had arrived a few hours too late. The window for their murders must have only been mere hours. Simon wasn’t at the funeral. You assumed he was dead. You didn’t want to know how he died..

You felt sick to your stomach.

You threw yourself into your work, getting reckless on missions, but producing noticeable results on the field. You gained a name for yourself. Fearless, brutal and blunt. You didn’t socialise any more. You were there to do a job. That’s all. You had nothing else to live for. No one to return to.

That changed when you’re contacted by Captain John Price. Apparently you’d been headhunted. Who gives a shit? He’d warned you that you’d be thrown into dangerous territory, with sadistic assassins and terrorists. Nothing could be worse than losing Beth, Tommy and Joseph. So you signed up.

That brings you to now. The newest member of taskforce 141.

The two sergeants are too happy for your liking. They are desperate to get to know you. You tried to avoid them, but they stuck to you like glue. Like dogs with a bone. They are fascinated by your fast climb up the ranks. They wanted to know everything.

The Captain is a gentleman, an authority figure who treats you like what you are. A soldier. A comrade. He instructs. You follow. He respects you and you respect him. It’s a mutual understanding.

Ghost avoids you. He has grunted at you twice in 3 months. He hasn’t taken that damn mask off either. It reminds you of the one that Tommy wore in the photographs of him as a child. Every time you see the Lieutenant, your stomach drops, as it reminds you of … them. They’re gone forever, your brain kindly reminds, as if you would have forgotten.. You get up and leave whatever room you’re in whenever he comes near. It seems like another mutual arrangement as he does the same to you.

What you didn’t know, however, is that Simon has spent years training his facial expressions. He almost gave it all away when Price came to him a couple of months back and told him of a new member. He almost fell to his knees in anguish when Price slapped a picture of you down on his desk.

His hand flew to his chest when price closed the door behind him, and he clutched his dog tags tightly, gulping.

Simon had seen their corpses that night. He could tell someone had been there. 3 cups of tea. Joseph was too young to drink tea. They weren’t even cold. The blood hadn’t dried. He should have guessed it was you. Auntie Tee Tee. Worn firmly round his neck, attached to his own.

Simon was sick that night, as he removed the tags from Joseph’s neck. He closed Tommy and Beth’s eyes, and moved Joseph so he was cradled by his mother’s corpse. Comfort in death, he thought. He fled the scene, after saying his final gut wrenching good byes. He was going to kill whatever bastard did this to them. He promised himself he wouldn’t stop until they were dead.

Tommy had told Simon that you’d joined the army. Simon never corrected him when he mentioned, constantly, that they were colleagues. He had never seen you in a crowd of new recruits. He would have noticed you.

But here you are. In front of him. Looking… awful. Dark eyes, that were once so bright. Slumped shoulders, that were once so happy to grab Tommy and Beth in for hugs. A scowl, instead of her perfect smile…

A far cry from the bridesmaid he had kept an eye on all evening at Tommy and Beth’s wedding.

You didn’t seem to realise that Ghost and Simon were the same person. That suited Simon down to the ground. John clearly picks up on something but decides not to mention it.

The team were working well together. Simon must admit, your style on the field is ruthless, not too dissimilar from his, but where he uses brute strength, you use the element of surprise and your brain. Smart girl.

What do we think??

Should I make this a series…?!

[euphoricfilter]

For the drabble game could you write fluff with youtuber bf jk ? I am not creative so I couldn’t think of a sentence sorry😭 but maybe he does one of those 24hr streams, I love your writing!

youtuber boyfriend! kook headcanons:

tags/ warnings: none. just a lot of fluff and feelings <3

notes: when i got sent this idea ages ago i got so excited. and i wrote three fics for it but hated them all and then made sure they were to never see the light of day. so my solution is to write some cute boyfriend headcanons instead to make up for it!! simply because i absolutely love this idea and i need to write anything for it to sate the need within me.

notes 2: this got slightly longer than i’d intended LMAO sorry 🕺

𓇻 i feel like jungkook’s channel has a plethora of videos, though he specializes in gaming.

𓇻 its probably one of his biggest passions. though i do see him dabbling in commentary, or even review type videos. maybe he’s a bit of a collector as well and goes on hour long rants about rare items or hauls of what he purchased over the years.

𓇻 i see the both of you probably meeting at one of those second-hand game and film stores.

𓇻 maybe you’re just milling around. more content to browse the movies than the games because you only own an old console (something cute like a nintendo DS) but they don’t really sell the game cards commercially anymore

𓇻 and jungkook loses track of why he was even there in the first place when he spots you. slowly scooting towards the corner you’re in.

𓇻 jungkook might not exactly believe in love at first sight, finds it a little hard to imagine loving someone so soon. but he definitely believes in destiny, even fate. and some small part of his mind had convinced him that surely this was just that.

𓇻 he’d be a bit shy about trying to approach you, mouth opening only for nothing to come out because what was he supposed to say? and maybe he accidentally startles you, offering to pay for the few dvds you had hugged to your chest as a lame sort of compensation

𓇻 he’d be the one to ask for your number, he’d be the first to text. you’d tell him later on it’s because you didn’t want to come off too head-strong. worried you’d scare him off messaging only hours after meeting. and then he’d tell you he had worried about the same thing

𓇻 jungkook wouldn’t straight out tell his audience he’d gotten into a relationship. it’s not that he was embarrassed about you, quite the opposite; he’d love to flaunt you to the world. it’s just he’d worry about the reaction from fans.

𓇻 he’d have a pretty hefty audience, a well established one even. and he wasn’t blind to the mean comments that would occasionally show up beneath videos or social media posts. he, himself, never found much issue in dealing with them, on occasion he’d get a little down but he knew that really he put himself up for this. he chose to show his face online, and with that would come some backlash. however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you or how shitty comments would effect your well being.

𓇻 definitely the “in a relationship but it’s private” sort of photos would slowly creep their way onto his IG posts. maybe of little date nights— candles on the table with a dinner you’d cooked together (2 glasses, 2 plates and 2 sets of cutlery), or your favorite cake he’d tried to bake himself with the lego flowers he’d spent the previous evening trying to make (because at least you could look at the lego ones forever and they wouldn’t die). or maybe even your hand snuck in a photo or simply your silhouette beneath a sunset.

𓇻 maybe a few of your own collectible items had made their way onto the shelf in his studio. an obvious beanbag in the corner (you’d often sit there and read as he went through emails or scripted videos). valentines cards that he’d never thought to take down, or posters of yours that never exactly fit in the bedroom

𓇻 it would become apparent that he was in a long-term relationship when he’d film a moving video. so much of your stuff mingled with his own, split seconds of the shared rooms he’d add to the video before showing his audience his new office space. the extra shoes and cute little additions to his home; soft cushions on the couch, ceramics you’d begged him to buy. your hoard of plushies that took up half the bed or the stupid amount of skin care products stacked up in the bathroom. all a sure way of telling his fans that he was serious about you, even if they had no idea of your name or face

𓇻 maybe with enough comments he’d make a little announcement at the end of a video.

𓇻 “i know you’ve all probably guessed by now, but i am in fact, in a relationship”

𓇻 and then proceeded to talk about you for 7 minutes because really he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. and truthfully he never knew when to shut up when it came to you, not when you were what’s on his mind most of the time. he’d tell them how you’d met, and how he had been absolutely enamored by you almost instantly. he’d show everyone the matching bracelets you’d made. grinning as he showed off the receipt he’d kept in his wallet from your first date together at a small cafe in town, mentioning how he kept a baby photo of you in the back of his phone too.

𓇻 the first time you’d show up in a video, he’d plan for the both of you to do some crafts together one afternoon. a hobby you’d been trying over the last couple of weeks, and jungkook liked to indulge you. loved to watch you sprawled across the floor of an evening with glue coating your fingers and way too much glitter imbedded in the carpet.

𓇻 he’d have been worried at first. asking you over and over if it was truly okay for you to be on camera, and after your reassured him with a kiss, he’d settle down slightly. though his anxiety had still clung to him, eyes flitting your way throughout the afternoon

𓇻 he could tell how shy you’d been, and had reassured you that really you didn’t even need to address the audience. he’d do all the silly little things you giggled at him for. and all you had to do was sit there and be pretty for him. you’d been a lot quieter than usual; itching to give him a kiss each time he was just so awfully jungkook. eyes like those of galaxies when he got something right, or the happiest smile on his face when you asked him for help

𓇻 the day he did a 24 hour charity stream would be when his audience sees you the most. milling around the house, making sure your boyfriend was fed and watered. maybe even sitting down and reading the chat when he wanted to shower. or answering questions while perched on his lap. he’d want to smother you with even more love when you’d catch his eye��� a silent question if you were doing okay, that you answered all the questions correct. and he’d squeeze your thigh in reassurance, head resting over your shoulder as he listened to your voice, humming to let you know he was still listening

𓇻 you’d startle him at 4am, a little pouty that you’d had to fall asleep alone. dragging a chair from the kitchen to sit on as you watch him play a game you’d never seen before.

𓇻 “go back to bed, baby” he’d coo, “you’ll fall asleep sitting up and get a bad back”

𓇻 and maybe after that he’s a lot more open to showing you on camera. filming you on beaches, eating cakes and ice creams from a million different restaurants or dancing around hotel rooms or sitting on the balcony with the sun warming your skin when he takes you on holiday. short films dedicated to you with your favorite songs playing in the background

𓇻 maybe he even makes a playlist on his youtube channel, titled “my love” for every video that he includes you in

𓇻 idk just very much in love boyfriend kook who wants the world to love you almost as much as he does (because in all honesty, no one would ever love you more than he does)

[jakes3resin]

Can you tell us about your other fics if you already have an established plot?

I'd love to! So there's quite a number of them I won't lie. I tend to get inspired by the randomest things. These are all in various stages of plotted out and written.

A/B/O fic (technically turning into 3 fics) that follows Bucky & Buck through the war, described below.

Courting Arc (top of my list to finish writing) - Bucky POV as he is anonymously courted during his time in the states just before he gets sent over to England (there's a post I'm basing my writing around I'll link it in a moment) <- published

England Arc- a quick look into their lives as they run missions with A/B/O elements (this will be pretty short I think) mostly snippets of scenes from the show just now with Omega Bucky and Alpha Buck <- published

Stalag Arc - Omega Bucky and his awful time in Germany. Here is where we see what being an Omega in war is really like in my omegaverse. Bucky is the highest ranked Omega in the camp meaning he's technically 'in charge' of keeping those Omegas in line. He's tested by his heats, keeping his pack together, and finally by a German order that could tear Buck and Bucky apart. This is a big fic for me to prepare for, and I'm building up to it by writing the Courting Arc first <- next on deck

Biker Gale AU (my beloved, genuinely obsessed with this AU) - this was inspired by one of hogans-heroes AUs. So, Gale leads an outlaw-esque biker club, and Bucky used to be his right hand (and lover) except one day out of the blue he just disappeared. Gale does everything he can to find Bucky, but there's no trail to follow, no clues to put together, nothing. Fast forward about two years, Bucky arrives on Curt's doorstep holding a small baby with the brightest blue eyes and prettiest blonde curls and begs Curt to watch his baby for 5 days. 5 days later Bucky comes back in town bruised to all hell with the FBI on his tail with their own nefarious reasons for tracking Bucky down. Bucky has nowhere else to turn especially since when he comes back to Curt's he finds Gale holding his little baby. (This could be A/B/O I haven't decided, but it's definitely at least mpreg)

Amnesia fic - this is based off of a post I made about the effects of Bucky getting hit over the head like 3 times in the span of two days, its... somewhere (edit: here). But its about Bucky waking up with no memory of who he is just before he gets interrogated by the Germans and sent to Stalag Luft III where he meets a man that his heart rejoices at seeing but his mind doesn't recognize. Buck of course has to deal with the love of his life forgetting him.

Magic AU - Bucky is a Scamander and its now everyone's problem to deal with it. The tag to find all of my ramblings for it is magic au (not that Tumblr's tag system works), and @getinthefuckingjaeger just wrote the best ever fic of Bucky and Theseus so go read that.

I've also got a few paragraphs written of Foster Kid Bucky somewhere but that might never see the light of day (that's also from a hogans-heroes AU) where Bucky is a jaded teenager just trying to make it to 18 to get out of his shitty foster placement when in comes Buck whose mother finally divorced his dad, got custody of her kids, and moved to her hometown to escape. It's about a Bright Buck meeting a Jaded Bucky (a flip on their usual dynamics)

Blonde Bucky AU - I wrote a blurb on the Twin Cleven AU post, and the idea of Bucky bleaching his hair on a drunken night out with Curt and Bubbles has haunted me since <- published as well

There might be more? But these are the only ones I can remember off the top of my head right now that are plotted out beyond oh that'd be a good fic. I have a lot of time spent sitting and waiting right now, so I have the ability to write a multitude of fics. I'm happy to talk about any of these fics if you want to come into my inbox or my messages.

[shank-ey]

[Behold! A very short fic, or prompt idk what to call this, that I wrote as I struggle with my writer's block.]

The two stared at the cottage, dumbfounded. Mori had promised them a nice, comfortable place if they both agreed to go on this mission together. Seems like they had been fooled.

“Fuck you Mori,” Dazai muttered under his breath, startling Chuuya a little bit since he had never heard him curse.

Chuuya whistled lowly, then proceeded to drop his bags carelessly on the floor, disturbing the settled dust. He coughed and waved his hand in disgust, a feigned attempt at making it not get to him. Dazai snickered.

“I call dibs on the bed!” Dazai shouted as he sprinted in and immediately flopped himself on the dusty bed like a fish out of water.

“Hey—” Chuuya shouted, chasing after Dazai because that’s not fucking fair. “You can’t do that!”

“And who declared you the rule maker, huh?” Dazai said smugly, still rolling around those dirty bed sheets drenched in dust. “Your chibi loser self should sleep on the couch. It’s the only thing small enough to fit you.”

“Gah, you’re impossible,” Chuuya groaned. “I have you so much.” There was really no point in arguing with him.

Dazai smirked in self-satisfaction as he watched Chuuya walk away.

“You can at least help me clean this place up, shitty mackerel. Unlike you, I’m not prone to living in such filth,” he stopped and looked around.

The cottage was small, much, much smaller than Chuuya’s apartment. It seemed to be big enough for one person, with a small kitchenette sectioned aside, a small toilet and bathroom combined and the remaining space having only one bed and a medium sized couch. It was decently decorated, with rugs and paintings and an old TV that Chuuya really doubt worked. But hey, at least there was electricity, clean running water and a washing machine.

Now that he thought about it, how did all these things fit in this small space anyway? The previous owner must have been hella good at interior design. There’s no way everything fits and looks good while at it.

“This place is much bigger than that box you call a house, this must be an upgrade.”

“Hey!” Dazai exclaimed, offended, as he followed Chuuya out of the small cottage. “Don’t talk about my house like that.”

“That’s not a house, it’s a box. You’re like a cat that’s too attached to some box to realize you deserve better.”

“Chuuya—”

“Shut up. Here,” he shoved a bucket towards Dazai. Dazai took it, mildly shocked and mildly confused by where he got the bucket from. “We got this place to clean. I’m not spending a three-month long mission both with you and this place being this filthy, and since I can’t get rid of both might as well deal with the dirt.”

“But Chuuya,” Dazai whined. “I don’t do cleaning!!”

“Shut up you big baby, today you will.”

[Also, I know it's incomplete. I managed to get this out so I decided I'll share, hopefully I'm able to write the rest.]

[johnentwistlesbassguitar]

Pairing: Pete Townshend/John Entwistle

Rating: explicit

Word count: 1k

Hmm I don't have much of a summary for this just more feeder stuff and John being insecure, also Pete gets a blowjob 😇 (this is also probably the fluffiest fic I've written, I only wrote it bc I felt so bad after putting John in sm situations)

Pete shifted uncomfortablely in his seat, he was sick of these shitty American diners the food was always overly greasy and fattening also the place smelled of plastic which wasn't the most appealing. The only good part was getting to watch John stuff himself, he knew he should probably try and stop John from eating so much he can barely stand up to leave but how could he when he looks so adorable. Pete noticed how John had gotten a bit fatter since they'd started on tour and it only made him want John worse.

John seemed completely unaware that Pete was watching him intently as he messily ate. He was too focused on the way his pants were starting to tighten around his waist and his crotch. It was embarrassing to John how badly he'd lost control over himself in America, not that his self-control was great back home either. Though Pete wasn't judging him too harshly, and that was really all that mattered. He finished and pushed his empty plate away from himself. Without thinking, John nearly reached down to undo his belt, which was digging into his belly in an almost painful way, but he decided that would be indecent.

"Here" Pete said pushing his nearly full plate of food over to John, who looked confused yet grateful.

Now John was aware of Pete's staring, he could sense that Pete was getting some kind of pleasure out of this. A small voice at the back of his mind was telling him that Pete thought he was disgusting but he tried his best to ignore it.

Pete wanted to rub and feel John's belly as he ate more than anything at the moment, but he knew that wasn't socially acceptable so he had to sit still and wait for them to be alone. He watched as John licked his lips so tantalizingly catching any sauce that dripped out the corners of his mouth. All he could focus on was his urge to lean across the table and kiss John so softly, these feelings weren't new to Pete but they were still so jarring. How did John manage to make him so horny by doing the most mundane things. Well Pete knew the answer to that, John was beautiful and the only person to ever truly understand him.

Finally John finished his second plate and stacked it neatly on top of the first one. Instead of feeling guilty like be thought he would John was very turned on. He figured that the combination of eating so much he could feel his stomach expand and Pete watching so closely was doing something to him. There was nothing he could do though, it's not like Pete would want to fuck him after seeing him behave like an animal.

Pete slowed his pace to match John's, it aroused him further to know that John had stuffed himself so much it was affecting his ability to walk. Once they were outside Pete slid an arm around John's soft waist and laid a hand on his tummy. He felt the way John flinched at the contact but he didn't try to push Pete away.

It was a short walk back to Pete's car but Pete was making the most of it. He stood as close to John as he could without looking suspicious and felt the warmth radiating off him, his arm tightened around John's squishy abdomen. It was too much Pete couldn't wait until they got back to the hotel to have his way with John, he knew John would understand.

Pete watched as John slid into the passenger seat with a bit of difficulty. He knew he shouldn't find it so cute watching John struggle to do basic things but to Pete he was just so fat and helpless it made both his heart and dick swell. It would probably take a while to find some place secluded enough for there to be no chance of getting caught.

As Pete was driving he couldn't help but notice how the buttons on John's pants looked like they were about to pop. Even though Pete found it quite sexy he decided to reach over and fix it for him.

"What!?-" John exclaimed.

Pete looked down at John's belly that was now resting on his thighs, he so badly wanted to press his face into John's soft tummy. He didn't think John would like it much though. "You looked uncomfortable," Pete shrugged, trying to be casual.

John flushed deep red, he was embarrassed that Pete had noticed how much larger he'd gotten. Despite feeling much more insecure now John didn't make any attempt to close his pants again, they were too tight in the first place.

Quickly Pete drove down a completely empty dirt road to find a empty clearing in the woods with no people or houses around, perfect. John had already figured out that Pete wasn't taking him back to the hotel but he didn't know what Pete had planned.

Pete slid out of the drivers seat easily and leaned himself up agianst the roof of his car. John didn't follow so he took his time undoing his pants and freeing his dripping erection, Pete let out a sigh of relief which John could hear from within the car.

"Johnny" Pete cooed "come over here, I have a surprise for you"

Nervously John approached Pete, his legs and hands were shaking a little. He couldn't figure out what Pete could possibly want from him. His jaw dropped in shock at the sight of Pete so hard and red in the face, he needed John badly.

"John...are you ok" Pete suddenly became worried at how surprised John was, this wasn't wrong was it? He assumed that this would be acceptable they'd fucked many times before.

John cleared his throat and forced his eyes away from Pete's fully exposed cock. "Yeah.." was all he could say, was Pete really turned on by him still?

Pete understood what John was feeling now "Oh, John, a beautiful boy like you must know what kind of effect he has on people" Pete frowned he couldn't bear to see John so down on himself especially when he looked better than he ever has before, not that Pete was baised or anything he just liked the way John had filled out. "Come here," Pete pleaded softly.

It took John a while to respond but he walked closer and pressed himself up agaisnt Pete, he accidentally rubbed his own boner agaisnt Pete's causing a soft moan to spill from his lips.

"Such a good boy, my angel" Pete praised wrapping his arms around John's lower waist and resting his hands on John's plump ass. "You're gorgeous, you know that right Johnny?" He squeezed John's cheeks and moaned into his ear. "It's like you just keep getting more perfect, my pretty boy" He fixed John with lustfilled eyes, he couldn't wait to see him on his knees.

"Pete..." John sniffed and placed his hands on Pete's waist, it only made the drastic size difference between their bodies more obvious. "Do you really think that?" His eyes were so full of hope, but Pete could sense that he expected to be told that nothing Pete had just told him was true.

Softly rubbing his hands up John's back to comfort him Pete gave his honest answer "of course I think that, there's no reason I wouldn't...I love you no matter what John" His abnormally sincere words hung heavy between them both. John leaned in and kissed Pete tenderly. What better way was there to say I love you too?

Without saying anything John pulled away and got to his knees slowly, Pete still needed to be taken care of and John was very good with his mouth. He took his time working his lips around Pete's throbbing cock, there was no rush he just wanted to make Pete feel good.

Pete placed his hands in John's hair, stroking it gently Pete loved how his hair was always so soft and silky. Making sure not to be too rough Pete started to push and pull his hips. John moaned around Pete's dick sucking a little harder. "Good job" Pete was nearly breathless John bringing him closer and closer to the edge by lapping his tounge over Pete's shaft.

Quickly and suddenly Pete came down John's throat screaming his name the whole time, John swallowed every drop like the hungry little whore he was. John removed his lips from Pete's cock and gasped for air.

"You're mine John, my perfect boy forever," Pete remarked while helping John to his feet. He could feel John's tiredness from how heavily he leaned on him for support. Emotions, sex, and overeating were all exhausting for John, so he understood if he needed a nap.

Pete laid John down in the backseat, he noticed that John's pants were soaked with his own cum, Pete's face flushed. How could John be so adorable? Instead of letting John undress himself Pete decided to give him a hand. Gently making sure to carress John's body as he went Pete removed his shirt and pants folding them neatly and placing them in the front seat. Pete placed a kiss on John's bloated belly, then climbed on top of him fully.

John was a phenomenal pillow, Pete decided they could stay parked here and rest for a while before going back. They both felt safer than ever in each others arms, so warm and comforting.

[adidastain]

i have something to tell you

90s matt stone x ftm reader (blurb)

a/n: this is something i whipped up real quick for my own comfort cus i've felt so shitty the past few days. i'm actually really glad i wrote this cus not only did it make me feel better but i also don't hate it and it's my first time writing ftm reader (i'm ftm. idk if you could assume from my prns (he/him) despite the fact that i primarily write fem reader fics but yes i am ftm) so this is for all my t-brothers in the mattrey fandom <3 obviously if you're cis you can read it all you want i love u all no matter what :) enjoy

other notes: some suggestive dialogue at the end, all lowercase, 2847 words

--

“hey,” matt said to me. i was standing in the kitchen, washing dishes from the night before. i hated touching the food grime stuck to the porcelain, but it needed to be done.

“hi,” i said, putting on a small smile and leaning sideways to accept his kiss to my cheek, which he held for a few seconds. i felt my face grow warm. he was so good at making me blush. 

my smile quickly faded, however. something had been on my mind all day that kept me constantly terrified. i just hoped that he would make me feel better, enough so that my gloom would go away and i wouldn’t bring his mood down too. 

matt set his coat and stuff down on the kitchen table, before coming back over to me and wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. i leaned back against his broad chest, tilting my head as he kissed the crook of my neck. 

“how was your day?” he asked me. 

“fine,” i hummed, scrubbing the inside of a plastic cup. 

“not,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows. “you know i know that ‘fine’ means not fine.” 

“it was fine,” i insisted, looking at him. “just uneventful.” 

“m’kay,” he said, still suspicious. “i missed you a lot.” 

“i missed you too,” i sighed. that was true. i missed him more and more every day. nothing in our lives had changed, i just felt like he was slipping away from me solely because i was the distant one. i just tried to cherish what i had before it would all go to shit. i was terrified. 

“wanna watch a movie tonight?” he asked, kissing my ear. i felt matt’s hand travel down my waist, rubbing over the swell of my ass and giving it a light squeeze. 

i giggled, pushing him away with my back. i was relieved that he was still able to make me laugh and feel all warm inside. i loved him so much. 

“hm?” he hummed, pushing his question. 

“sure,” i said, washing the dish germs off my hands before drying them off with a towel. 

…

we ended up choosing a pretty depressing movie. neither of us knew it would be such a rough watch, but we got through it and i felt pretty shitty. matt pulled me closer as the credits rolled, most likely able to see that i was troubled. 

no words were said; he just caressed my face with both hands and looked into my eyes. i stared back, taking in the feeling that it gave me to share that contact with him. it would be gone soon, i was sure of it. that look of love he gave me would soon turn into one of betrayal, disgust, disappointment. 

of course, the thought brought tears to my eyes, which he immediately noticed. 

“i’m sorry,” he apologized. “i didn’t know the movie was like that. i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay,” i exhaled, swallowing harshly through a tight throat. “i’m okay.” 

i giggled slightly, hoping to rid him of his concern and make myself feel a little better too. matt buried his slender fingers into my hair, holding my head close to his shoulder. for a moment, i sat there, letting him hold me. my hands tentatively made their way around his neck, pressing him against me as i felt a sob threatening to escape me. 

“i don’t think you are,” he sighed, his voice cracking. that pushed me over the edge. i broke down, tears soaking spots in his shirt as i buried my face in his shoulder. 

matt adjusted so that his arms were wrapped completely around my waist, holding my body flat against his. his lips pressed against my neck and cheek periodically, warm and soft. 

“talk to me,” he told me, his hand trailing up and down my back. “you haven’t been yourself lately.

i didn’t understand what he meant by that. i guess he could tell that i had been feeling down, but it was ironic. i’d been feeling down because i was terrified to tell him what i’d discovered about myself. how everything i hated about myself throughout my entire life was all because of one thing that i was absolutely petrified to share with him. it was myself, yet he had no idea. 

“i don’t want to make you upset,” i sobbed, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt as if he were trying to get away and i didn’t want him to leave. 

“baby,” he said softly. he smiled, looking into my eyes. “i don’t want you to be upset either. whatever it is, it’ll be better if we talk about it.” 

maybe he was right. maybe we could work it out. maybe he would be willing to give himself a different label and call me by a different name, if we could work it out. 

i sniffled, staring into his eyes and wishing he could just read my mind so i didn’t have to put it into words and fuck everything up. i could ruin my entire life with my next words.  

matt sat patiently, looking at me with concerned yet infinitely loving eyes. i spent my last few seconds with those eyes taking in their beauty, relishing the feeling they gave me when they peered into me with dilated pupils and relaxed lids. just a few more seconds, and i may never get them back. 

“i hate myself,” i choked, practically whispering. matt’s face dropped, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“you-“ 

“i’m not finished,” i squeaked, my voice wavering as i felt tears welling again. “please believe me when i say… i-i love you more than anything, matt. you are so important to me a-and-“ 

i cut myself off when i felt his thumb wipe a tear away from my eye. that only made me cry more. 

“you’re killing me,” matt swallowed. “i’m getting really worried.” 

“i’m sorry,” i said, nearly gauging my eyes out with how harshly i wiped my tears away. 

“i’m listening, baby,” he whispered. “i promise.” 

i took a deep breath, picking my fingertips as my entire body trembled. here we go. 

ruining my life in 3, 2… 

“i’m tired of being… of being a-a girl,” i mumbled, my voice faltering. yep. it was over. gone. finished. 

i first noticed his eyebrows furrow deeper than i’d ever seen them. he cocked his head slightly. he did that whenever he was confused. 

“what are you talking about?” he asked cautiously, meeting my eyes. concern still lingered in his gaze. i still felt the love there, but i hadn’t said entirely what i needed to say. 

“i don’t wanna be a girl anymore,” i sniffled, looking down as i spoke. “i don’t think i’ve ever wanted to be a girl.” 

silence filled the space between us as matt seemed to be deep in thought. “so…” he pondered out loud, not entirely sure what he was going to say, just as i was. 

“i’m… i’m trans. transgender. i-i think,” i said, swallowing harshly. my eyes burned from drying tears. my body just shook, saving the rest of the tears for later. 

i noticed matt’s expression relax for the most part, one small wrinkle still sitting between his subtly furrowed brows. he always sort of had a resting angry face, but now he looked frustrated for real. he was staring into space, just sitting there, thinking.

i looked away from him, pulling away slightly so that i wasn’t sitting on top of him anymore. i felt cold; i’d ripped myself away from his warmth before i gave myself the chance to cherish it. 

there it was before me. my life, broken and shattered into millions of pieces. 

“can… can i ask you-“ he started. 

“yeah,” i exhaled. i didn’t realize that i’d been holding my breath. 

“how, um, how do you know that?” matt asked softly. “i just mean-“ 

“it’s fine,” i swallowed. “i-i just… i don’t- i don’t know how to explain it. i-it’s… you know how i like wearing baggy clothes and overall just, y’know, men’s clothes?” 

matt nodded, staying quiet. he had his listening face on. jaw clenched shut, chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

“it’s like, i don’t… i don’t wanna be a girl dressing like a man. i wanna be a man dressing like a man. even as a kid i wanted to wear boy’s clothes,” i explained. my voice cracked towards the end of my sentence, tears filling my eyes once again. 

i knew matt had little, if not zero experience with this, and to be honest, i barely did myself. and based on some of the stuff i’d seen and heard from his work, it didn’t seem like he ever wanted to have experience to begin with. 

“so… would you… change your name and stuff?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck. 

“mhm,” i hummed, sniffling. i wiped my eyes, cringing at the stinging sensation. 

“what name are-… w-what name would you prefer?” he asked, his voice softer than i’d ever heard it. 

did he really want to know? part of me didn’t want to tell him. part of me felt scared to death that he would tell his friends and they would mock me. 

“i, um… i like y/n,” i mumbled. i felt a small smile trying to creep up my face. it felt good to finally say that out loud. “feels good. i’ve always liked that name.” 

“y/n?” he repeated. 

i nodded, swallowing. i finally worked up the courage to look at him again. i felt better, but i still felt dread over what he was going to say next. 

“come here, y/n,” he said, beckoning me over with his index finger. good god. it felt unbelievably good to hear him call me that, regardless of whether what was to follow. 

i climbed back over to him, melting in his arms. matt ran his fingers through my hair. i could feel his heartbeat, racing nearly as fast as mine. he still felt just as warm as he did a few minutes ago. 

i let one hand caress his back while my other hand played with one of his curls on the back of his head. he let out a heavy exhale, his body relaxing under me. 

“i love you so much,” he said quietly in my ear. “you know that.” 

i nodded, pulling him closer. i said “i love you too,” but it was practically silent and only came out as a breath.

“i wish i knew more about this,” he said, his own voice starting to waver slightly. he placed a small kiss on my ear, moving my hair out of the way. 

“it’s okay,” i choked. i closed my eyes and pressed my face against his hair, letting his soft curls brush against my skin. “i understand if you… if you don’t wanna have to- …y’know.” 

“have to what?” he pressed. “call you my boyfriend?” 

i nodded. matt looked at me, wiping my tears away again. i could see his own eyes watering slightly, even through his glasses. my lip quivered as i remembered why i was so scared in the first place. 

 “i was so scared,” i laughed slightly, gulping. 

matt held both of my hands with one of his, the other reaching up to caress my jaw as he slowly leaned in and placed a soft, passionate kiss on my lips. 

even after letting go, his face lingered close to mine. we remained still, breathing each other in for a moment. his hand slipped away from my face, lowering to meet the rest of the bundle of hands that sat in my lap. 

“i didn’t want to lose you,” i whispered, barely audible. “i didn’t want to tell you ‘cause i was so scared that you would leave a-and-“ 

“i still love you,” he said. he gave me a small smile, showing off his dimples. “i don’t want to leave you. ever. not in a million years. you’re the brightest part of my entire fucking life.” 

i started crying again, hiding my face from him. i really thought he was going to be upset. i was so sure he would push me away. i guess i just didn’t read him correctly. 

“and who the fuck cares if i’m gay?” he laughed, pulling my hands away from my face. “everyone pretty much already believes that i am.” 

“but are you?” i asked, still sobbing. “there’s a difference between saying you’re gay and actually being gay.” 

“yeah, i mean-“ 

“it’s not a joke,” i swallowed. “are you attracted to men?” 

matt’s face dropped slightly. i didn’t mean to, but i had snapped at him a bit. my arms and hands were still shaking. i felt bad for interrogating him like this, but i would have preferred to get my heart broken now than later on, after thinking that i might have been spared of it. 

“i…” matt choked slightly. he cleared his throat. i saw tears welling in his eyes again. “i don’t know.” 

i sighed, looking away. i put my face in my hands again, taking a deep, shaky breath to keep more tears at bay. 

“but that doesn’t mean i can’t try new things, right?” he said softly, running a hand through my hair. i lifted my head up, tucking some stray strands of hair behind my ears. 

“i guess,” i squeaked, swallowing harshly. i looked at him, unintentionally giving him somewhat of a puppy-eyed look. i reached towards his face, carefully removing his glasses so that i could wipe a tear away from his cheek. matt turned his head to kiss the palm of my hand, before grabbing it and pressing it against his face. 

“i’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled, his words muffled by my skin against his mouth. smooch. “whether i’m gay or not, you can’t get rid of me.” 

i smiled slightly, looking down as i felt heat rise in my cheeks. “i don’t think it works like that,” i said. “but okay.”

matt smiled and let my hand rest on his cheek. i swallowed, scooting a little bit closer so i could lean forward and softly kiss him. 

the kiss lasted a few seconds, breaking every so often to we could just breath each other in and look into each other’s eyes. i still held his glasses in my hand, resting in my lap as my arms and legs stopped shaking so much. 

matt’s fingertips grazed my jaw. “i love you so much, y/n,” he said softly into my lips. i smiled at the sound of my name in his voice, speaking so softly yet passionately. 

“i love you more,” i said, trying not to grin from ear to ear. 

“is there anything else you wanna tell me?” he asked, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “anything else on your mind?” 

i shook my head, pecking his lips. i curled up in his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“okay,” he hummed. matt pushed my hair away from my face. 

“can i tell you who i wanna look like?” i asked, grazing my fingertip back and forth on his neck. 

“who?” he asked, putting his glasses back on. 

“george michael,” i mumbled, grinning slightly. 

matt giggled. “he is a beautiful man.” 

i laughed, shoving him playfully. matt just grinned, caressing my chin and pulling me in for another, much deeper kiss. 

i exhaled, relaxing my body for the first time in weeks as he kissed me over and over. it was dizzying, but i loved it. all the fear i held inside for so long about never being able to feel his lips on mine or his body pressed up against me ever again was behind me. that was the best thing i could have asked for. 

i let him slip his tongue between my lips, taking his time exploring the inside of my mouth and feeling my own tongue against his. i heard him him slightly into the kiss, leaning deeper into it. 

suddenly, he pulled away, causing a string of saliva between our lips to break. 

“what do you say we wear that name in?” he purred, biting his lip and stroking my jaw. there it was, that look of love. the one i was so sure i would never see again.

i rolled my eyes, feeling myself blush heavily. i made an “ugh” sound and pushed his chest away. 

“i’m serious,” he grinned. “i told you i would try new things.” 

“i know, i know,” i said, standing up. it had been quite a few days since we last… had fun. i’d been so distant and down in the dumps that i never really felt like it and i guess he could kind of tell that was the case. “c’mon.” 

i could have sworn i heard him giggle in excitement as he too stood up from the couch and followed me towards our bedroom, barely able to keep his hands to himself during our short walk down the hallway. 

[pastafossa]

Right, so Pre Covid I had this small con I went to almost every year waaaay down in Alabama (I won't say where I was, but let's go with 'two days of driving to get there'). I'd go because it often had voice actors from my two of my favorite games. I made a ton of friends online over those two fandoms and our shared love of the characters, so we'd often roadtrip and then roomshare (even a fancy hotel is affordable when split 4-5 ways). It became a family reuinion as much as anything else and about 40 of us regulars all got to know each other fairly well.

That fandom and my love for it was how I got back into fanfic. My friends there are the people that encouraged me to be the real me and undo some of the 'I Am Shitty And My Interests Are Dumb So I Must Be Quiet And Not Noticeable Or Excited' thoughts my little town had beaten into me. TRT wouldn't exist if I hadn't fallen in love with those games, quietly joined groups about the characters, and been taken under the wing of some fandom friends. I wrote fic, that did decently! I cosplayed! I met voice actors (including Anatoly from DD, who also played one of my favorite game characters!) and said dumb things to them and the world didn't end! I made friends!

Then Covid killed that con. And a lot of us kinda drifted even if we all still played the games and chatted online. But it felt very much like a, 'ah, the magical world before COVID.'

Which is why it hit me like a goddamn slapstick fish flung from offstage when I got a notification the con is back on next year.

Cue me, and a bunch of friends dusting off our Facebook accounts to all gather in the (formerly dead) Old Official Group to go, '???? IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING???'

I have no idea what the con will look like in The Year Of Our Hellscape 2025. But if you like Bioware games and are planning to be in Alabama in 2025 for a small con, maybe we can say hi.

[cjsarchive]

I like the insecure mc with sam fic you wrote, can you do a matthew one? like incorperating the fact he cooks a lot of sweets maybe.

Yep, hope you enjoy!<3

The Most Beautiful Girl-Matthew x Female Reader

I stared at myself in the mirror. Stared at my stomach, hips and thighs. I sucked in my stomach and turned to look at myself from the side. I definitely like how this looks. But when I let my stomach rest, I felt like crap. I need to stop obsessing over how I look. I look at myself in the mirror too much. But I couldn’t help but keep coming back to examine myself, my body, what I need to work on and fix. I sighed.

“Hey, you okay?” I turned towards the voice and saw Matthew was standing in the doorway to my bedroom.

“Oh, yeah I'm okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’m okay,” I forced a smile on my face, hoping to convince him. He didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t push any further.

“Alright, if you say so. Anyways, dinner’s done!” He grinned.

“Okay, coming!” I looked at myself in the mirror one more time. I didn’t have an appetite right now, but I followed Matthew downstairs anyway. I sat down across from him.

“I made your favorite dessert tonight too!”

“Thanks,” I wanted to smile, but I only felt worse. He was so sweet, but he didn’t know the thought of eating anything sweet right now made me nauseous. I tilted my head down, hiding my face, and began to eat.

I managed to scarf my food down, but I still couldn’t touch the dessert. Matthew must have noticed me simply staring at it, “Is everything okay? Are you tired of that? Cause I can make something else for dessert if you want!” He offered.

“Um, no it’s okay. I’m just full right now. I’ll eat it tomorrow.” I couldn’t read the expression on his face, it made me anxious.

“Alright, I’ll handle dishes and stuff tonight, okay?” He walked over to me and left a kiss on my forehead before taking the dishes to the kitchen. Ugh, why am I being so difficult?

I went back up to my bedroom. I look towards the mirror. I tried to stop myself. I need to stop looking in the mirror. But as I thought that, my feet were already making their way towards the mirror. I stared for a long time. I can’t keep being like this. I can’t keep being myself. I grabbed my phone and looked up dieting routines online. I was so focused on it that I didn’t notice Matthew had come in until I felt his arms wrap around my waist.

“I know I keep asking but are you sure you’re alright? You seemed kinda off at dinner.” He said softly. Before I could turn my phone off, he saw my search results on my phone. “You wanna start dieting?” He asked, confused. I hesitated. There was no point in lying to him now.

I sighed, “Yes. I want to lose weight.”

“Why?”

The words slipped out before I could catch them, “Because I don’t like my body.” After I let that out, the words just kept coming, “I want to feel good about my body, I really do. I try to convince myself it’s not that big of a deal. But then I see so many girls with my body type going on diets, having intense workout routines, working to be slimmer, and trying to get the ‘ideal body.’” My eyes started to water, but I blinked the tears away, “It’s hard to feel good about my body when everywhere I look, I’m being shown that my body is not ideal and I should be working to change it. That’s why I don’t want to eat dessert. I’m just so tired of feeling shitty.”

Matthew was silent for a moment, taking in what I had said. He gently turned me around to look at him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you felt like that. If I had known I wouldn’t have made-“

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve done nothing but be kind and sweet to me. You always try to make me happy. I don’t even know why you’re with me, Matthew. All I’ve done lately is whine and be difficult. I don’t deserve someone like you.” I looked down, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. I felt small. Matthew stood in thought for a while before he softly smiled.

“I have an idea.”

He led me over and we both sat on the bed. He reached into his pockets and pulled out various plushies. Two of which looked like me and Matthew. He placed the plushies at the end of the bed.

“What is this, Matthew?”

“Just watch.” I looked at the toys and they started moving, like they had come to life, “I’m gonna tell you a story.” I looked at him in slight surprise before taking my attention back to the toys. “Once there was a guy named Matthew,” The Matthew plush stood front and centre and waved at me. I giggled at the sight, “After he left the demon world, he got to explore the wonders of the human world, and all it had to bring.” His plush was shown wandering and experiencing different things such as books, stores, and food. “But there was something he had yet to experience: Love. Love wasn’t a thing in the world he grew up in, he never experienced it. Until he met..” A puppet that looked like me propped up. Matthew conjured a little spotlight as well and shined it on my plush. “This girl turned Matthew’s life upside down! In the best way of course. From the day they first met, she showed Matthew kindness, letting him and his brothers live with her when they had nowhere else to go. Matthew didn’t know it yet, but from that day forward, he would never be able to get this girl out of his mind. Again, in the best way.” I laughed as I continued to watch the puppet show.

“He was attracted to her so quickly. Her kindness, her gentleness, her beauty, her independence. She was amazing! He loved being able to be close to her, he loved the person he was when he was with her. She made him feel so empowered, like he could do anything! He’d never met anyone who made him feel like that. He was 100 percent in love with her!” The plushies began reenacting all the dates Matthew and I went on. I felt a great wave of nostalgia remembering them all. Before I knew it, tears started flowing, “Even though she doesn’t feel great about her body right now, Matthew still felt her body was beautiful and didn’t need to change. She was the most gorgeous woman he ever knew. A woman he never wanted to live without. A woman he loved more than anything. And he’ll never leave her. Ever.” The two plushies hugged and I felt my heart melt. All the toys then stood in a line and bowed to me. “To the most beautiful and wonderful girl.” The toys then went limp again.

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck and blushed, “Heh, I know it’s a kinda corny but-“ I didn’t let him finish as I threw myself into his arms. I sobbed in his shoulder. I was so overwhelmed with happiness.

“T-that was beautiful, Matthew,” I sputtered out. I squeezed him tighter. Matthew hugged me back just as tight.

“I’m really glad you liked it.” He gently pulled away, but still held me as he looked at me, “If you really want to start dieting, I’ll support you. But there’s nothing wrong with your body or your size, I promise! You are gorgeous.” He reassured me again. I smiled bright before I leaned in and gave him a gentle but passionate kiss on the lips. He very happily kissed back.

“I love you, Matthew. I love you so much.”

Matthew smiled and left multiple kisses all over my face, making me giggle, “I love you too, beautiful.”