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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year ago

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A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her.

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher.

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would.

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD. With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front.

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning.

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.”

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you.

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.”

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car.

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too.

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty.

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you.

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it.

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you.

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder.

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy.

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon.

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort.

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing.

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun.

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt.

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end.

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan.

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him.

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company.

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours.

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?"

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago.

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones.

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you.

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders.

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?”

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp.

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal.

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you.

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard.

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago.

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand.

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar.

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–"

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again."

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks.

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?"

The lie comes without hesitation.

“No.”

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Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

#steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series #torn #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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hlficlibrary · 4 months ago

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HL FIC LIBRARY ✤ AUTHOR REC

AO3: homosociallyyours

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STATS:

✤ Number of fics: 132

✤ Posting Since: 2012

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HIDDEN GEM:

💎 You Make Lovin' Fun {E, 109k}

Harry is a 28 year old travel writer at a gay magazine who gets the assignment to go a lesbian cruise. She figures it's a nice chance to have some fun in the sun, but she's not expecting much else-- even if her partner and best friend are both encouraging her to hook up with someone while she's there.

When she locks eyes with a gorgeous silver fox from across the room, she starts to think she could've been wrong. There are lots of things standing in the way of anything real happening with her and Louis, but that doesn't stop them from falling for one another. True love isn't always easy, but they do make lovin' fun.

#ficrec #authorrec #homosociallyyours #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsquad #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #trackinghome #hltracks

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talekinesis · 15 days ago

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Separated

Gravity Falls Timestuck AU fic

Summary: The Twins are sent back in time but not together

[Part 1] | [Part 2]

"WHERE DID THEY GO!?"

Stan was frantic. He had checked the whole house. Every room, every closet, every secret room, even under the couch cushions, desperate to find something.

"Why does something weird always happen with you around!?" He glared at his brother, who was pacing back and forth in the livingroom.

"First of all, you are the one who wanted me back so badly, Stanley, so stop acting like I just came in and intruded. Secondly, Dipper rolled the Infinity sided die so-"

"So you know what happened??" Stan looked at him, his eyes desperate, pleading that they could undo this.

Stanford sighed and took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt, an old anxious habit he's had since childhood. "That's the thing. Infinity Sided Die, infinite possibilities... We can only hope that wherever they are, they're safe."

Mabel found herself lying on the cold, hard ground. She groaned and sat up, dizzy and rubbing her head. Looking around, she realized she was outside and it was... winter.

It had just been summer, she had just been sitting with her Grunkle Stan watching Ducktective. She had just been making fun of Dipper and his nerd game.. Where was she now, what happened?

Suddenly blinded by two bright lights, she cried out and covered her eyes, stumbling and falling back into the cold, slushy snow. Tires screeched to a halt and suddenly some guy was yelling at her to get out of the road, but the child was so scared and overwhelmed that she just froze.

A car door slammed shut, and she barely registered the man getting out an approaching her.

"What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the road during a blizzard, kid!? Go home!"

Her eyes snapped open and she uncovered her eyes. She knew that voice. "Grunkle Stan?"

The man before her definitely looked like him. Though, he was a lot younger, and a lot less put together.. which was saying something.

He stepped back. "How do you kind of know my name? Did Ricardo put you up to this? Is this a set up!?" He frantically looked around, looking like he was about to jump back into the car and leave.

"Wait, wait! Please don't leave me!" Mabel was surprised at her own voice, sounding strained. She hadn't even realized she was crying already. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"My name is Mabel Pines, I'm your grand-niece from the future."

The younger mullet version of her uncle scoffed and got back in the car. "Look, I know I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm not that much of a sucker. Whoever put you up to this needs to learn how to scam people." He started the engine, causing Mabel to panic and grab the handle of his car door to prevent him from leaving.

"Please, please, I'm Sherman's granddaughter! Please believe me, I can prove it!"

This got Stan to pause. How did she know about Shermie? He narrowed his eyes and cranked the window down more so he could hear her better. "You got one minute before I drive away."

She had to wipe her eyes again and cough to clear her throat. "I'm from 2012, and in the future you're my great-uncle.. My brother and I traveled from California to Oregon to spend the summer with you-"

"Why the hell would I be living in Oregon? I know I'm traveling there now, but why would I stay-"

"Listen, Stan!" She snapped, not having the patience or the right state of mind to explain everything, "You're Stanley Pines, your twin brother is Stanford, and you have an older brother named Sherman. Sherman currently has a son named Matthew that your parents are helping raise-"

"How do you-"

"Because Matthew grows up and he's my dad! I know you're going to Oregon because Ford sent you a postcard asking you to meet him in Gravity Falls!"

Stan looked like he had seen a ghost. But these were all details she could have learned if someone was following him. "Tell me one thing I've never told anyone else before. Something only someone in my family would know."

Mabel rested her forehead against the car door, shivering violently. She was dressed for the summer, but now she was soaking wet in the middle of winter. She took in a shakey breath, thinking back to when her Stan was telling his life story.

"Y-You and Stanford had a boat.. The Stan-o-War. You were gonna sail the world together, but-"

She was cut off by Stan opening the door and pulling her inside, setting her in the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white, and he was breathing hard, on the verge of something close to a panic attack. He felt like he was going to be sick.. Because he believed her. He hadn't told anyone that.

Mabel was curled up in the passenger seat, shivering. She felt better now that she was in a car with the heat on, but she was still cold. She didn't even look up when she herd the sound of a zipper, or when she felt him put his jacket around her.

"Okay.." He started, "So.. If what you're saying is true.. How did you get from 2012 Oregon to 1985 Utah?"

Her eyes widened and she sat up. "I'm in Utah!?"

"Okay so apparently you don't even know.." He sighed and started to drive. "Well, you're coming to Oregon with me. I can't leave a freezing wet child from the future alone in the snow. That good with you?"

Mabel nodded and buckled her seat belt. She pulled the jacket tighter around herself as the weight of everything finally set in. She was in 1985, in Utah. She didn't have the time measuring tape, she didn't have the journal, she didn't even have Dipper.

Dipper would have a plan of some sort, right? Where even was he? Was he still in 2012, or was he stuck in the past too?

Dipper pushed himself off the ground, the snow soaking his T-shirt and shorts. He shivered and breathed into his hands, looking around. Through the blizzard, he could barely make out the outline of the shack, so he started to run as fast as he could for it.

Once his sneakers hit the wooden steps he frantically pounded on the door. "S-Stan? Let me in, it's Dip-"

Before he even knew it, he was face to face with a crossbow.

"Who's there!? Have you come to steal my eyes!?"

The boy's heart stopped and he looked up at his grunkle.. or.. who his grunkle used to be?

He was staring at a younger, messier version of Ford, who looked exhausted and insane. It was scary actually. Seeing this man he was so familiar and comfortable with, but it was like looking into the eyes of a stranger. A version of his uncle who didn't even know who he was..

"N-No, I uh.. I'm Dipper-"

"I don't want any girlscout cookies. Leave." Then the door was slammed shut, and he heard at least three or four locks click shut.

Dipper knocked again, but the curtains were pulled shut.

"Darn Ford, why were you such a paranoid freak.." He muttered under his breath. Luckily he had lived here for an entire summer, so he knew how to get in. The real question was if he'd survive breaking into the house of a man with a crossbow who was more than willing to aim it at a child.

He ran around to the side of the house and to the cellar doors, starting to slam his body against them, hoping that the cold would have weakened the lock a little bit. He continued to ram his body again and again against the doors-

"What are you doing now? Stop that!"

Dipper was picked up by the back of his vest like a kitten, causing his journal to slip out. Ford picked it up and stared at it for a moment.

Without a second thought, he carried Dipper inside and shut the door. "So who are you, boy? A demon? Shapeshifter? Do you work for Bill? How did you get my journal!?"

Dipper was tossed down, grunting as he hit the floor. He turned onto his back and put his hands out as if to protect himself from the crazed man before him.

"N-No, I'm your nephew!"

"Nice try, Demon, my nephew is in New Jersey.. Though you do have a pretty convincing vessel of what he might look like."

"Your great-nephew! From the future! That journal is a future version of yours, if you don't believe me, go look!"

Ford paused. He looked down at the book in his hands. It did look faded and worn. The pages were yellowed and it looked all beaten up. He knew his was still in the basement, locked up.

"Did you say future? As in time-travel?"

Dipper let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Yes.. I'm Sherman's grandson.. My dad is Matthew Pines.. You were.. Surpisingly quick to believe me, I thought I'd have to like.. convince you more."

Ford helped him up, but kept the journal. "You think I haven't had my own run-in with the time police? Besides, we're in Gravity Falls, weird things happen. But just to be sure.. I'd like to ask some questions."

Dipper nodded, shivering again. The adrenaline had worn off, and he was feeling the effects of the blizzard once more. Luckily for him, Ford picked up on this and lead him into the livingroom, sitting him down in front of the fireplace.

"Right.. So.. How did you aquire this journal?" He asked.

"It was in this secret compartment out in the woods? My sister and I traveled to Oregon to spend the summer with Stan-"

"Wait, Stan? Why is Stan living in my house in the future? I called him here to make him leave."

Dipper's eyes widened and he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I don't think it's a good idea to tell you too much about the future.. Like, there are certain things that happen, and need to happen in order for my present to remain the same.. If I tell you what happens, you could change it.. And if I manage to get back to 2012, and my life is completely different, it'll traumatize me and my sister.. Probably her more than me with how close she and Stan are. I can't do that to her."

Ford nodded and sat back. "That.. makes sense.. But do I tell you about my past at all? Things only I would know?"

The boy nodded. "Yes! You grew up in New Jersey, uh you and Stan had a boat... The.. man-o-war?"

"The Stan-o-War, yes.. Okay.. So you are my great nephew.. How did you get here from 2012?"

Dipper took his vest and hat off to let them dry, getting to work on his shoes as well. "You and I were playing Dungens, Dungens, and More Dungens, and I.. Well you have like this magical infinity sided die-"

"That's impossible."

"It is and it's not. I can't tell you how you get it, it would spoil the future, but when it's rolled, anything could happen. Our faces could melt into jelly, the world could turn into an egg.. Or I could get stuck in the past."

Ford listened, interested. He raised a brow. "If you knew the dangers of the die, then why did you roll it?"

Dipper groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I grabbed it by accident." He glared up at his uncle. "You're not very good at keeping dangerous items in secure places by the way, that's the one thing I will tell you. You kept that die in the same bag as the rest of our normal dice. Who even does that??"

Ford waved him off, mostly because he was unable to defend something he hadn't even done yet. "The real question is how we're going to get you back home.. Any ideas?"

Dipper thought for a moment before he perked up. "The Time Police! My presence here could alert the Time Anomaly Removal Crew and they could come and take me and Mab-.. oh.."

"What's wrong?" Ford could see the kid practically deflate, looking down at his feet.

"Well..I don't know where my sister, Mabel, is. When I rolled the die, it brought me back here, but I heard her yell too, so.. Maybe it also did something to her? But I was alone when I woke up outside, I don't know what happened to her, or if anything even did happen to her.. I feel so helpless not knowing where she is.." He hugged his knees.

"What if I get returned home but she's stuck here alone? We've never really been apart before, if she's out there in this blizzard somewhere, I don't even know what she'd do."

Ford frowned. The idea of a little girl being trapped in an unfamiliar year, by herself, in a blizzard was scary in itself, but it worried him more that she apparently would end up being his niece. But this kid was right, they had no idea where or when she was, so there wasn't much they could do about it.

He looked at the boy in front of him, who had stopped shivering, his clothes already drying from the fire. He rubbed the back of his neck. He had never been good with kids. Not even his own nephew. He nearly dropped Matthew when he first held him, and had to be reminded twice by his mother to support the head. Surprisingly, it was Stan who was better with kids. He handled Matthew perfectly the first time.

"Look, Ripper-"

"Dipper."

"Dipper.. You're right, we don't know where your sister is. She could be home in 2012, or she could be somewhere alone in the blizzard, freezing to death-"

"Is this supposed to help me feel better?" Dipper looked up at him, even more distressed.

"No, no- I mean yes, but.. Listen. Let's focus on what we can take care of now. Right now, I have a boy in my house who needs a place to sleep and probably food to eat."

Dipper looked back down at his feet. "I'm not really hungry.. But thanks.. I think I just want to go to bed.." in his own bed, in 2012, in the room he shared with his sister, but he didn't say that part out loud.

Ford nodded and stood up. "Follow me, you can stay in my room. I usually sleep in the lab anyway."

The boy got up and followed him, leaving his vest, hat, and shoes next to the fire, too mentally and emotionally exhausted to really care. He followed him up the stairs and into the 'secret' room he and Mabel fought over that one time. It was odd seeing it full of stuff with a desk and a bed.

"You.. don't mind me sleeping in here?" He asked, stepping in a bit more. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in in a while. He yelped a little as Ford picked him up and set him on top of it, pulling the covers back.

"No, I don't mind. You clearly need it more than I do right now, and like I said, I usually sleep in the basement." He pulled the covers over him, and shut the lights off. "You get some sleep, Zipper. I have to go check all the locks at least three times each." With that, he left the room and shut the door.

"Dipper.." the kid muttered to himself.

He turned onto his side and looked out the window, the snow illuminated by the moon. He hoped wherever Mabel was, she was okay.

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bulkyphrase · 7 months ago

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2012 Avengers Tower: a fic rec list

I think we all sometimes yearn for the days when we thought Marvel would let the Avengers be friends who all lived together and fought supervillains in between movie nights.

Though these stories weren't all written or set in 2012 post-Avengers 1 era, but they all feature that team hanging out, having fun, and supporting each other through difficulties.

The list is in chronological order, with fic published from 2012 to 2024.

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup (@galaxystew-zombie) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 26,586 words | Published April 01, 2012)

Summary: In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Big in Japan by gunboots (@gunboots) (Loki/Thor, Stucky | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,203 words | Published May 01, 2012)

Summary: Steve hesitantly reaches out and takes the object in Tony’s arms to survey it. 'It' being a pillow upon which was an almost frighteningly accurate illustration of Loki, their on-and-off again nemesis. "I don't--how did you even get this? Who would MAKE this?" Clearly Steve doesn't find the attention-to-detail on Loki's costume as hilarious as Tony does, which whatever. Like he said. Killjoy. A.K.A The one time Tony buys Thor the world's worst souvenir and it somehow worked out in the end anyway.

The rest are below the cut!

Soft Skills by Lady_Ganesh (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,154 words | Published May 31, 2012)

Summary: "So," Bruce said carefully. "You're saying that your tower became a big target for an alien army, so you're going to rebuild it as an even bigger target?" "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid," Tony said. The team tries to bring Steve Rogers into the 21st Century. It mostly works. As my beta CaptainBlue said: Also I love how you did a fic about Avengers team building and still managed to make it 100% about Cap. You have a gift. This is why I love her. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Without the Usual Cost of Labor by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,387 words | Published June 15, 2012)

Summary: "Someone just reported to SHIELD that whatever was stolen produced “viable offspring,” and we’re hoping that doesn’t mean what we think it does,” Bruce says, evidently deciding to take over for Tony after only one masturbation joke. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Great Avengers Body Swap by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,712 words | Published July 23, 2012)

Summary: Loki and the Avengers spend a month in SHIELD's detention cells, because Loki cast a bodyswapping spell against them and got himself with it, too. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Ice in Windless Cold by Isagel (@isagelc) (OT6 | Explicit | 11,883 words | Published August 19, 2012)

Summary: "I dream about the ice," Steve says. "About being in the ice." Also available as a podfic read by susan_voight

Private Bookmark? by storiesfortravellers (Gen | Mature | 2,638 words | Published August 24, 2012)

Summary: The Avengers discover that there are fans who write explicit RPF fic about them. Some of them are very confused. Some are proud. Some don't understand why everyone writes the pairings who aren't together but hardly anyone writes the couple who actually is together. Much silliness ensues. Also available as a podfic read by analise010, AshesandGhost, dapatty, fire_juggler, lorcalon (uniquepov), Opalsong, Weebs813

The Goat's Back by arsenicarcher (Arsenic) (Gen | Mature | 10,155 words | Published November 30, 2012)

Summary: An AU where Steve's essentially a failed experiment, corporal punishment is the predominant form of discipline and team leaders take the punishments for those under them.

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (@pollyrepeat) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,221 words | Published March 31, 2013)

Summary: The most annoying parts of being de-aged (and then re-aged) are your friends. Also available as a podfic read by RsCreighton (@rosecreighton)

What We Pretend To Be by ifitwasribald (Gen, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark | Explicit | 100,697 words | Published July 14, 2013)

Summary: Good becomes great, bad becomes worse. But people are a hell of a lot more complicated than good and bad. When half of the team is dosed with the super soldier serum, they all have to grapple with their own pasts and futures. But for better or for worse, they’re all in it together.

Speak So We Can Hear Your Heart Beat by Jaune_Chat (@jaune-chat) (Gen, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Jane Foster/Thor | Mature | 15,402 words | Published November 10, 2014)

Summary: The Avengers are rendered mute by Amora the Enchantress. As a search for a cure grows more and more dim every day, the Avengers have to deal with the reality of learning to communicate with each other in a whole different way. Uncertain if they'll be able to fight again, they enlist the help of their friends, and learn some surprising things about each other as they struggle to hold onto their identities as the World's Greatest Heroes.

The Health Benefits of Knitting by Niobium (@niobiumao3) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,179 words | Published January 15, 2015)

Summary: Clint isn't sure what's really relieving Natasha's stress—the knitting, or the part where she foists the horrible results off on other people. Also available as a podfic read by reena_jenkins (@reena-jenkins)

Clint Barton's Guide to Friends and Ceiling Vents by NoliteTimereEos (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,488 words | Published July 11, 2015)

Summary: In which Clint Barton meets a missing assassin in the vents and somehow becomes friends with him. Things don't go as bad as they could have. Also available as a podfic read by babbling_bedlamite

How to Train Your Superheroes by StuckySituation (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,150 words | Published March 05, 2019)

Summary: “But of course, no matter how much we practice on schedule, we will need to learn constant vigilance and manage to get our reaction times down to the minimum,” Steve continues and takes the last burger beef from the grill and puts it onto the table next to him. Natasha has a brief millisecond to frown and think “Constant vigilance?”, before Steve kicks the grill so hard that the coals rain on top of the flammable carpet feet away. “What the hell-!?” “STEVE!?” Steve is already sprinting towards the ledge. “First training session started! Wanda, Sam, Tony - someone CATCH ME!” Then he jumps off the Tower. Also available as a podfic read by vassalady (@vassalady)

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (@galaxythreads) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 11,022 words | Published April 25, 2020)

Summary: "Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

5 Times Steve Dealt with His Team's Sleeping Habits... by The67ImpalaDragonChild (@dragonimpal67) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 29,606 words | Published November 08, 2020)

Summary: ...and one time they dealt with his. Steve didn't think anything of it when he moved into the Avengers tower. He didn't think about how much the people he's living with would affect him. He's thinking about it NOW! Who knew a bunch of super heroes could be so weird about something as basic as the need to sleep?

on the mend by meidui (@meidui) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,438 words | Published February 03, 2024)

Summary: Steve rarely feels this awful after a fight, but then again, he hasn’t been on a solo mission in months.

#marvel fic rec #avengers fic recs

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romanarose · 5 months ago

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About a Girl: Chapter 5

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: For week 3 of my pride event: Sex. Joel and Blue make everything official. Kayla ruins everything.

ADDITIONAL WARNING: Sorry ya'll this just happened with the story and it felt right for what was happening and the characters.. Warning for brief DV nothing extreme or detailed.

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

A/N: Not to sound like a 2012 wattpad writer but I cried writing this.

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

Things had been going well for weeks. Kayla had been taking Sarah on weekends consistently, which meant she didn’t have a man to distract her. This, however, meant she didn’t have a man to distract her away from Joel’s love life. Still, a little bit of boundary setting had done well for him, and Kayla had mostly been minding her business. Joel was able to see Blue every weekend, and was even able to spend more time with Tommy and Tess which was rare.

Tonight, he had just got done having dinner at your house and was cuddling on the couch with you in his arms, all wrapped up. He liked moments like this a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he’d gone to another show with you and had a good time, but he was definitely happy to just sit at home with you.

You’d seemed an unlikely pair, you and him. You liked leather and black and grunge. He liked country and jeans and… well he wasn’t really sure what he really ”liked”, honestly. He loved Sarah. He liked All That, he liked Arthur, he didn't like Barney, he liked Franklin… what did he watch when Sarah was in bed? Sleep. He mostly slept. Sometimes he watched King of the Hill… he listened to Clinton Black, Garth Brooks… Sarah liked Reba, which was nice. Things to do for fun? He liked to play the guitar for Sarah. He liked to go to the park with Sarah. He liked to go with Sarah and Tommy to the roller rink…

“I’d like yuh to meet Sarah.” Joel said against your ear, arms wrapped around your waste as he lay propped up against the arm rest. “Really meet her this time”

You paused, then sat up to turn and face him. You were smiling softly, eyes wide. “Really? I don’t want you to feel like you have to… but I’d love too…” Something hit you, making you bite your lip. “Introduce me as… what, exactly.” When you saw his eyes widen, you told him he didn’t have to pick a label right now, but he cut you off.

“My girlfriend. If you wanna.”

You squeal, returning to his arms for a hug and a kiss. “Yes!!!”

Joel returns the kiss, pulling you close, sliding a hand to the small of your back as you deepened the kiss, straddling his body. You and him had been making out, and of course the blow job outside the concert, but no sex. Not yet…

“Stay the night.” You whispered between kisses. “We don’t gotta do nothing you’re not ready for, but I’d love if you wanted to stay over”

Joel looked up at you, heart swelling faster than his cock in his pants. He reached up to touch your face. “I’m ready… only if you wanna”

You responded by grinding your cunt over his jeans, kissing him once more. You slide your tongue into his mouth, dominating the kiss and him. When you make it to the bedroom, Joel follows your lead, letting you press him up against the door as you fiddle with his belt. “Got any- mphhh- got any questions?”

His brow furrowed, looking a little confused and flushed. “With what? I don’t know if you know this, but I ain’t a virgin. Kid and all.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” You chuckle. “I meant with the whole ‘not born with a vagina’ thing.”

The look on his face told you he forgot about that. “Oh. Um… I guess… can you… um…”

“Orgasm?!?!” You bawked, in disbelief that at the prospect of having sex with a transwomen, something he barely knew existed before you, and he’s concerned if you’re going to have a good time. “Yes, I can orgasm Joel. I got a fucked ton of lube by my drawer too, so we’re covered there, baby. Just.” you sigh, guiding him to the bed as you pull down his pants. “Sweetie,” You coo, his big brown eyes gazing adoringly as you return to your rightful place above him. “Just let me take care of you tonight, ‘kay? I got you.”

Awestruck, you nodded. “Yes ma’am.” In his dark boxer briefs, his cock is straining, heavy.

You slowly pull his briefs down, Joel humps his hips up to help and you stare in aw as his cock strings free. He’s hung, absolutely packing and you can see why Tess came back for a few more rounds. Getting a chance to look at him, really look at him this time… Big dick, big eyes, big man… bigger heart. He’s soft, kind. He’s gentle in a way you’d never seen from a southern farmer, a body capable of total destruction if he wanted to, but no room in his heart for it. You couldn’t imagine your sweet, precious man hurting anyone.

When you took him in your mouth, you couldn’t make it all the way down. You’d practice on tat, vowing to be able to deep throat him, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was a mess already. When was the last time he fucked someone? It’d been a few years since Tess and she never mentioned Joel having a girl since Kayla… You wanted to make him feel good. But Joel had other plans.

“Wanna taste you.” He begs, tugging at your hair. “Really wanna taste you, Blue, please?” Joel is practically whimpering at you like a puppy and god, who are you to deny him?

“You ever had someone sit on your face, Joel?”

He nods. Good, you didn’t wanna freak him out. He’s not a virgin, but you didn’t think he was the most experienced either. “Stay there.”

You spread your legs over his face, carefully lowering yourself on him when he surprises you by grabbing your thighs and yanking you down. “Hungry boy” You chuckle, delighted with his excitement. He shows no interest in the slight scarring, if he was even paying enough attention to notice; he seemed preoccupied.

Joel devoured you whole, moving and working with your body as you ground yourself on his face. He felt good, he knew what he was doing, that was for sure. Even if he didn’t get out much, he certainly had the enthusiasm. “Fuck Joel, just like that… Just like that…” You’re sure to make sure he knows he’s doing good, you weren’t going to get wet on your own. His nose nudges along your fold as he sucks on your clit when you bend over, jacking him off. You’d love to 69 him -he deserved it- but you didn’t want him orgasming too soon, and the poor guy was already looking like he was just barely hanging on as it was. You cum in his mouth, shouting out his name as you grip his perfect cock tightly, so tight you can’t believe he didn’t spurt all over your hand but you would have forgiven him if he had with the feeling he gave you. Riding his nose and putty lower lip until you’re done taking all your pleasure.

When you flop over on the bed, Joel is on you in a second, lips sucking in yours desperately. He needs you, you can tell, but won’t ask for it. Joel isn’t the kind to take. He’s a giver. If you asked him to eat you out again he would, and would, and would until you’re ran dry and he’d just lay there, cock hard, cleaning you up. Because that was Joel.

But you weren’t going to do that to him. Because he deserved to know he was worthy of love, pleasure, happiness.

When you drop on top of him, encasing him in your lubed up, warm cunt. He opens you in a way you’ve never felt before, making you moan onto the stubbled jaw you were kissing, making you whimper in such a way he asked if you were okay. No one on this earth was a better man than Joel Miller.

You rode him, hands pressed against his firm pecs and stomach rubbing against his softness. All the lifting in the world wasn’t going to work his abs, and the man was living off junk and the real food Frank made for lunch. He’s soft around the edges. Joel is a whiny, moaning mess and you savor every single second of it. Breathing in his shuttered exhales, letting it be your breath of life no matter how your legs burned as you bounced. Thumbs to soft inner thighs, you gave until your heart burst.

“I love you.” You blurt out, voice shaking as you admit your feelings, perhaps too soon. You hold your breath, closing your eyes tight as your brace for rejection, or even more scary; his devotion. Upright and spearing yourself on his sweet dick, you continue your movements blindly.

Until you feel him rise up.

Joel surged towards you, wrapping your body up in one arm and gripping the back of your neck with the other hand. Chest to chest, lips to lips, body to warm, adoring body.

“I love you,” He fucks his hips up into your body, muttering against your lips and cheek. “I love you so much, Blue.” And you believe him.

Joel comes inside after you beg him for it. One orgasm is enough for you, you generally can’t twice but Joel does have you doubting that. He fills you up, clutching your ass and shoulders to him with fingers in your skin and face buried in your neck.

You wake up to your landline ringing.

“Hello?” You answer quietly, but Joel stirs anyway.

On the other side, you hear Tommy. “Hey Blue, Joel with you?”

“Yeah, everything okay?”

Joel is up, eyes wide recognizing his brother's voice. He likes the phone from you. “Tommy? You alright?”

“Jesus Joel, had me worried. Kayla called damn near every bar in town trying to get a hold of me.”

“Shit.” Joel mutters, sitting on the side of the bed. “Sarah okay?”

Tommy said he didn’t know, but Kayla had been trying to call him. Joel hung up, searching for his phone. After calling Sarah good night, it fell under the bed.

You watch him frantically call Kayla, being sure to keep quiet. You know his ex can get jealous and he doesn’t need more stress. He’s so clearly worried, and you are too. It’s 1:30 am, if Kayla is calling then something is wrong with Sarah. “Whats wrong? Where’s Sarah?”

“She won’t stop crying, Joel.” Kayla snaps at him. Is she just calling because Sarah’s crying?

Joel scrubs his face. “Kayla, did you try comforting her?”

“Of course I did, you fucking asshole” You didn’t like how she speak to Joel, and you seethed in your anger, mouth still shut. “She won’t stop screaming. You need to pick her up, I can’t fucking do this.”

Joel sighs, standing up. You begin gathering his things for him. He’s butt naked, dick swinging. “Jesus, okay, I’ll come get her. Just go hold her, okay? She gets scared at night.”

Kayla snapped at him, saying she’s aware.

He turns to you, apologetic. “I’m so-”

“Don’t you dare fucking apoligise, cowboy.” You toss him his briefs. “Sarah comes first, always. I’d do the same if I had a kid.”

He mumbles, redressing. “She always does this. Begs and cries about never seeing her, but sends her back early. Breaks Sarah’s little heart, you know? The uncertainty. She always dressed up so cute to see her mom, always brings her best art she makes at kindergarten, picture books she can read… even pretends to like Mariah Carey when she used to make me change the station. I can’t fucking take it.”

Your heart hurts for Sarah and Joel. Your own mom and dad never got you, even before coming out as trans or gay. You just were never right in their eyes. Years later, you start to think it was more about them than it was you. Who you are now is who you were always meant to be. You are happy. They are still miserable.

“Go get your daughter, Joel.” You kiss his cheek after he pulls his boots on. “Call me in the morning, or whenever you have time.”

He pauses, stopping to wrap his arms around you, strong and safe. “I meant every single word I said, Blue. I love you.”

“I know.” And you did.

After speeding on the empty roads, Joel makes it in record time, parking in front of some jacked up truck and knocking on the door. He didn’t want to ring in case Sarah fell back asleep. The door flung open to reveal and frazzled Kayla. “About time, she’s been screaming non stop!” She opened the door and Joel looked inside, not seeing her but hearing her scream frantically. Kayla was dressed in a flownsy night top and panties, makeup lightly on like she kept when she first started sleeping over at Joel’s parents.

“Where is she?” He follows the sound of her cries. She sounds absolutely batshit terrified, calling mommy, mommy, mommy. He’s unfamiliar with Kayla place. “Sarah? Where are you baby girl?”

The mommy’s switched to daddy’s with renewed vigor and Joel quickly found the room, running to it but finding the bedroom door locked. He jiggled it, hearing Sarah’s voice on the other end of sobbing for him. Something was wrong. “It’s okay, baby girl. I’m here. Daddy’s here.” He tried to sound calm but turned to Kayla, furious. “Why is the door locked.”

“Don’t raise your voice at-”

“KAYLA UNLOCK IT!”

Kayla grabbed the key from a table nearby, explaining as she unlocked it, Joel’s voice reassuring Sarah she was safe it was okay.

“She had a nightmare, said she saw you and Tommy die on that stupid fucking farm. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up when I tried to tell her you’re-”

As soon as it was unlocked Joel burst in, dropping to his knees to scoop up his baby and soothe her. Sarah continued to cry, but relief to it.

“I’m okay, my baby. I’m okay, so is uncle Tommy. I promise.” His hands felt her shampoo or conditioner soupy residue in there. Joel told her not to wash Sarah’s hair, that it was washed the night before but she didn’t listen. Kayla never took time with washing it, rinsing it properly.

After getting the number of the last bar that Kayla found Tommy at, he got a hold of his brother when Sarah was yet to be reassured her beloved uncle was alive.

“See Sare-Bear! I’m right as rain! I even promise to make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, even if your dad says no, okay?”

Sarah niffles, still clearly shook up and visible shaking in her barbie nightie, but better. “O-okay. You promise you’re not hurt?”

“Not one bit, never been better. Want me to come home?”

“No… no…” But she didn’t sound certain.

Once Sarah was reassured, Joel scooped her up. She clung to her dad, clutching his shirt in her little hands. Joel turned to Kayla with a glare. “You locked my daughter in her room when she thought her dad and uncle were D-E-A-D?” He spelled out, making Kayla roll her eyes.

“You cuddle her too much, you and Tommy both. She needs to learn to cry it out.”

“One, she’s 5 and had a horrible nightmare. Two, you literally called me!” Then, Joel heard a thump coming from another room and it made sense now. The truck, Kayla underwear and makeup. “Kayla. Do you have a man in the house right now?”

She looked like she was about to lie, then thought better of it. “What I do with my home is none of your business.”

He tried to keep calm, chest rising and falling in anger against Sarah, still gently sniffing. They had an agreement on this. “How long have you known this man.”

She crossed her arms defensively, “A few weeks.”

His jaw ticked. “You brought a man you barely know to sleep over while my daughter is here?” In anger, he turned around, walking to the door but Kayla shouted after him.

“Relax Joel! This ain’t even the first time! Sarah likes him, he’s nice, he-”

Whipping around, Joel took long footsteps towards Kayla, clutching Sarah who had begun crying again. Sarah knew when a fight was happening. “How long as this been going on? Do you leave her alone with him?” Then he realized… if Sarah met him, and never mentioned him… he took a deep breath. “Kayla. Did you tell my child not to tell her father about a man? Did you seriously tell her to keep a secret from me?”

Joel never ever said. “don’t tell mom.” Ever. His heart raced in fear about the potition she was put in. If Sarah didn’t think she could tell him about the man, if anything happened, she’d keep that a secret too.

“Joel, it’s not a -”

“Don’t! No more sleepovers Kayla! No more of this until you can stop doing stupid-”

Seeing the slap coming and bracing for it was the only thing keeping his face from rolling into Sarah’s head. His eyes remained closed, blurring with tears. Not of pain, but humiliation. Knowing Sarah just heard her mom hit her dad. He’d always managed to keep that shit away from her…

“What, are you gonna cry now?” She mocked, but Joel wouldn’t have it.

“Sarah, sweetie, say goodbye to mommy. We’re going home.”

Sarah waved goodbye, but didn’t speak. Joel took her into the car and buckled her safely in, pulling a blanket over her legs in her nightie. He’d send Tommy to get the rest of her things tomorrow. Right now, he needed to get Sarah home.

Joel laid in bed with her, holding Sarah close to him on the twin bed. He tried to lull her back to sleep, but she hadn’t stopped sniffling and gently crying the whole ride back, even as Joel tried to distract her.

“Why doesn’t mommy like me?” Sarah mumbled against Joel’s arm, her back to his chest.

“Oh baby…” He kissed her hair. “Your mommy loves you so, so much. She and I think you’re just the coolest kid ever.”

She thought on this for a while. “You know the bird I made in kindergarten? Where I glued the feathers?”

“Yes baby, I remember.”

“And the sheet where I wrote my name 5 times?”

“I remember, it looked so good.”

“I brought them… and last night I saw them in the trash.”

Joel’s eyes welled up with tear, tucking his face into her hair to hide it. “It must be an accident, Sarah. We get so many bills, it probably just got lost in the piles.”

“I put it on the fridge for her.”

“It must have fallen…” Joel hated lying to her, but… “You know, just the other day your mom called me to tell me how she’s so proud of you. How she thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the whole world and so, so smart.”

Sarah’s bedroom door cracked open, Tommy appearing.

“Hey Sare-bear” He spoke gently. “Got room for me?”

Joel scooched over and saw Sarah smiling for the first time. Daddy was comfort, but Uncle was joy. “Yes!!”

As Tommy took off his boots and jacket, Joel enlisted him to his lie. “Tommy, remember how her mom was telling us how proud she is of Sarah?”

Tommy got the jist. “Oh yeah, she’s always talk’n ‘bout you. Can’t get her to stop, really. Says you know more about dinosaurs than anyone else on the planet.”

“Yeah! Because I saw Jurassic Park!”

Joel shot Tommy a look but let it slide. At least Tommy doesn’t tell Sarah to keep secrets. “Yup. See baby? She loves you so much.”

“Good” Sarah yawned. “Because I love mommy. I wanna be just like her when I grow up.”

The three of them fell asleep like that on the twin bed. Sarah snuggled right up in her daddy’s arms, uncle Tommy on the other end holding her little hand.

In the morning, Tommy made them all chocolate chip pancakes.

Lets get on the fight Kayla club!!!!!

Tommy loves his neice....

Sarah is perfectly safe, I promise.

please lmk your thoughts!!!! Thanks for all the cool works with this pride event!!!

How to keep up with the series:

Follow About a girl series on tumblr

follow @romana-updates and turn on notifications

Ask to be tagged!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @ashleyfilm @bumblepony @snnyc @casa-boiardi @del-ightfulling @joelsoftie @valoxwayward @axshadows @qveerthe0ry @guelyury

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inevitably-johnlocked · 11 months ago

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Hi there Steph! I’m violia.

I was a diehard BBC Sherlock & Johnlock fan back in 2011-2012. I read fic voraciously and adored the show. Those months after series 2 aired were such a fun time to be in fandom and I remember it fondly! I eventually moved on from the fandom, (dropped back in briefly for series 3 & 4), but now for some reason, ten years later, I find myself being drawn back to it. I’m definitely feeling nostalgia for those first two series of the show, the excitement, creativity, fic and meta in fandom at the time, and just generally that entire early 2010s era. It was a different time.

Naturally, back then, I didn’t bookmark any of my favourite fics, and I’ve forgotten nearly all of them now. But I was delighted to stumble across your blog in my search for fics! So I’ve come to ask for some recs, if you have them! There are two different types of fics I’m looking for:

Fics that explore/feature depictions of London as a city. Descriptions of different parts of the city, Sherlock and John exploring the city (maybe in casefic), etc. I’m really interested in reading fics that are firmly and specifically situated in their settings.

Fics that stand out as having particularly strong British/English characterisations, dialogue, mannerisms and cultural references.

I’ve been using the search function on Tumblr to look for fics, which I will continue to do. But any help you could give would be greatly and gratefully appreciated. I hope you have a lovely day!

(submitted by vi-olia)

=====

Hi Viola!!!

Ah, welcome back again to the fandom!! I’m happy you have found your way here and have taken joy from my blog!!

Ahhh, this is a good question re: fics... for the first one the only one that comes immediately to mind is this one:

Darkling, I Listen by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 73,254 w., 8 Ch. || Fairy Tale AU || Loosely Based on Beauty and the Beast, Magical Realism, Suicidal Themes, Romance, Creepiness, Adventure) – No one who enters old London ever comes out. They say that the beast devours them. When his sister disappears, John ventures into the dead zone beyond the wall, and finds a brilliant madman under a terrible curse... Part 1 of Darkling I Listen + Extras, Deleted Scenes

And some other AUs that the names are escaping me, sadly D: I recently just read one that focussed a lot on London as a city and I can’t remember what it was, OOF.

As for the second one... Ah..... every fic kind of is that for me primarily because I’m an ignorant Canadian 🙃 hahah.

If anyone has something particular to suggest for either request please do!!

And thank you for your ask, Lovely!! Hope you’re enjoying your time here!! :D

#steph replies #johnlock fic reqs #help steph find fics #london fics #british fics #i'm the worst sorry :(

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deelaundry · 5 months ago

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Self-Rec - Lesser Knowns

A thing is going around: Of your own fics, list your five favorites. It's hard for me to limit myself, so here are five favorites among my House MD fics with the lowest hit count on AO3.

Second Sunday in May (House MD, General, 1.6k, May 2009) - Wilson wants to commemorate Mother’s Day. - A quick dive into the Wilson & House & Cuddy friendship-polycule on Cuddy's first Mother's Day. With a cameo by Taub.

One Is Silver (House MD, Teen, <1k, June 2011) - Another beginning in Wilson's life. - Wilson makes a new friend after House has run away post-crashing his car into Cuddy's home. This was written before we knew House was going to prison for that.

59 and 58 (House MD, General, <1k, August 2008) - It's been 59 days. Post-ep for episode 4-16, "Wilson's Heart." - Grief and mourning, impressionistic and sensory.

Justice (House MD, Mature, 2.3k, June 2020 based on 2008 fic) - Brielle is even fucking worse than House said it was. - A House & Wilson sci-fi AU set in space with vampires; it's explained in the fic itself. Wilson and some friends take down a predator. Not gory but read the tags.

OK, I'm going to cheat for the fifth self-rec, and bundle fics together. These are all warm fun ficlets about how House and Wilson love each other. The first three include thoughts about Wilson's quirks; the last shows a quirk in House. All Teen or General, all <2k, Nov 2006-May 2012.

Earthworms and Buttercream Roses

B Anonymous

The Act or Art of Criticizing

Gramercy

Dance With Who Brung You

In the Men's Room on the Third Floor

The Pier at Caesars

Account Balance Zero

I would love to talk about any of these - if you see the characters differently, please let me know in AO3 comments.

#house md #hilson #my stuff

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disconnected-from-reality · 1 month ago

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Fanfic rec: Bones B&B - 6x09 (Doctor in the Photo)

Have you ever had a phase in your fanfic reading journey when you are just fixated on a specific part/episode/scene, and you just want to read every single alternate outcome or fix-its the fanfics out there have there to offer?

Well, me too, and this is how this post has come to life! It's quite a shame there's not a lot of fanfics out there for this episode, so I tried to list the fics that could possibly scratch the itch. Haha!

Fanfics in this list are set either during or post Doctor in the Photo. You will be able to recognize on the very start of each fanfic. And as usual, all are complete with happy endings.

Enough about my ramblings. Have fun reading!

The Anthropologist in the Accident by Serendipity730 [Words: <32,019 | T: Suitable for teens] This is set before the final scenes of the Doctor in the Photo. What if Booth hadn't been there to rescue Bones from the car?

Secrets and Regrets by CJsMom [Words: <50,910 | T: Suitable for teens] Post Doctor in the Photo. Brennan doesn't confess to Booth, but tries to deal with her regrets on her own. Eventual B & B.

Try by MiseryMaker [Words: <29,774 | T: Suitable for teens] Post "Doctor in the Photo" fic. No matter how dark it gets and no matter how many times they screw it up, it's never too late. Not when two people are really in love.

Quicksand by MoreBonesPlz [Words: <46,783 | T: Suitable for teens] What if after the infamous B&B conversation in the truck during The Doctor in the Photo where Booth told Brennan she'd missed her chance, Brennan didn't acquiesce? What if once opened, she no longer found it possible to close the Pandora's box with respect to her feelings for Booth?

Change in the Story by TheZygomaticArch [Words: <79,749 | T: Suitable for teens] I didn't like how the relationship between B&B was handled after Doctor in the Photo- so here's is my alternative. I wanted more struggle and passion! And then what happens when they DO get together? Lots of love,conflict,&twists. Same crimes. New story.

Stars Above Our Heads by TempeJill [Words: <42,341 | T: Suitable for teens] Following the events of The Doctor in the Photo, Booth severely distances himself from Brennan, leaving her to feel lost and alone, without even the comfort of Angela or the other squints to help her through it all.

The Heart Won't Lie by razztaztic [Words: 16,531 | T: Suitable for teens | Also Available in Ao3 | Ao3 Account Required] My story for the 2012 Secret Santa Fanfic Exchange, organized by Biba79, which answers this prompt: "What if Booth hadn't been able to get to Brennan in time and she was hit by the car in 'Doctor in the Photo?"

You Look Like Yourself, But You're Somebody Else by cortexx [Words: 90,073 | Mature | Also Available in FFN] A different series of events that follow 6x09 - The Doctor in the Photo

The Prize in the Consolation by LJLanham [Words: <8,438 | T: Suitable for teens] Another follow-up to "The Doctor in the Photo." Will Booth and Brennan both come to their senses with a little help from Angela?

Let me know what you think of this list. I'd love to have some feedback! I'll be back with a new list soon, hopefully!

Looking for other fanfic recommendations? I might have something you're interested in, or if you have requests feel free to ask!

#bones tv #bones 2005 #bonestv #temperance brennan #seeley booth #booth x brennan #bones #bones fanfic recs #If you see a “<” on the word count it's likely to be in FFN bc I have to consider that the word count includes the A/N

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linddzz · 9 months ago

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Dreamling Nonsense Masterpost

Looking for a fic? For a shit post? For a long winded au thread? Playlists? Got it here. Keeping it Dreamling for now until I really have the time to scour through my various fandom posts to collect the Big Hits.

Audacity in Human Form: E. main WIP. A post season 1 "let's see these two figure their shit out" exploration that's best described as two character studies stacked inside of a fanfic shaped coat. My main tagline for it is "it isn't unrequited, Dream just needs therapy." The fic exploring how the two weirdos I have in my head got together.

Fics/Tumblr Ficlets

"Audacity in Human Form" Series

Not exactly a structured chronological series. I have a pretty set version of my Dream and Hob in the canon!universe, so all the fics I write of them are just the same two dolls I'm bumping together in the same sandbox. They can be read in any order or separately, but there are characterization threads and things mentioned that tie them all together. I like to think that put together they can give fun context or more depth to each other :)

I'm less into Big Plots and more into just having fun bumping these dolls together and playing with how they interact!

It's a WIP and I write slow, as my job takes a lot of mental bandwidth.

(Other fics in the same series can be read even while the first isn't done! They don't really spoil much except for the fact that they do end up together. But of course they are.)

In Which Hob, a Shitty Wizard, Meets a Supposed Demon: Gen. Drabble ficlet on Tumblr as I start exploring my Shit-wizard Hob AU. More of a rough draft concept fic

Obviously: E. smut prompt fill one-shot. PWP. Dream is a needy eldritch pissbaby and also violently romantic. Hob scruffs him for some much needed gentle domming.

This Isn't the Trope: Teen. Lots of cussing. Johanna is agressively investigating an immortal man, Hob is looking forward to being dramatically rescued by his hot supernatural boyfriend. No one but Morpheus has a good time.

OTHER FICS/DRABBLES

Audacity in Human Form related posts (esp the ones that broke containment)

"Oysters have nightmares like this"

"Jokes on you, you're into that shit"

Hob: "no. Shut up. I'm talking now."

Characterization Notes aka: I'm gonna start bullying Morpheus

Other mutterings about writing or snippets are under the tags "#my fic" and "#audacity in human form"

AU Cooking:

I'm honestly better at coming up with every single detail for an AU without actually writing the fic, but I like playing in the sandbox and other people seem to have fun with them too :)

Human!AU. There are kinda two versions of this that I'm starting to meld together.

Red Flags AU post: Hob is hired to be the party ruining messy boyfriend, but cannot begin to compete with the insanity that is the Endless family and the Hot Mess Express Morpheus, who hired him. They fall in love instantly. "Why would I fix him??? He's perfect."

Red Flags AU 2: slight deviation from the OG where everything is the same, except Morpheus' messy friend Johanna accidentally introduces them and instantly regrets it. She did not anticipate Hob reacting to Morpheus' red flags like a charging bull.

Assorted Human!Morpheus facts

Shit-wizard Hob AU: where Hob is still immortal, except Death is his Endless buddy. He first meets Morpheus when trying to take up occultism at Fawney Rig (he's bad at it but is gonna stick around now. For reasons.)

Meta-ish Shitposting:

Hob meets Thessaly. Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" starts playing ominously in the distance when she doesn't appreciate how much of a needy clingy freak Morpheus is.

Spotify Playlists:

I process Blorbo feelings with hyper specific playlists. Putting Dreamling and other fandom ones here bc I guess it's about time I share more of them

Audacity in Human Form PL: 1h33m fic specific. Set up to alternate Dream/Hob POV. Blatant "2012 fandom brain" indulgence in here.

Hot Mess Endless Express: 1hr45m the general Dream playlist. Not ship specific, all romantic songs are how I just see him in any relationship. Mostly serious, except when it isn't but especially when it isnt

The Devil of Fawney Rig: the playlist I imagine goes in Dreams head when he's stuck in a fishbowl and horny for revenge. Made with the shit-wizard Hob AU in mind

Newton Goes Kaiju All Over Everybody's Ass: 1hr it really is too bad that there was never a second Pacific Rim movie but wow isn't Dark!Geiszler a great concept? 🙃

EDDIE I MADE A PLAYLIST EDDIE: 44m Venom made a playlist for Eddie, isn't that nice?

Mountain Son: 1h30m Bagginshield Thorin feelings ahoy. Made with Mahrâna in mind.

The Bacchae: 1h. The soundtrack for the dream production of the Bacchae in my head. Meant to follow the progression of the play

The Huntress and the Maenad: 1h30m insane sapphic bitch in the woods solidarity

Mysteries: 7+hours!!!!!! The ongoing playlist for joining the cult of Dionysus and eating a billionaire in the woods

#masterpost #look i finally did it

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 year ago

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Ten Years Earlier...

All right, it's my first COD fic and it's smut (there's a running theme happening today). This is oc x canon which is know is not everyone's jam (DLDR). Also my first time writing Captain Price (so be gentle with me folks)

Set in 2012, Rory Sinclair (my oc) is a Corporal with the British army on leave and she just so happens to run into a certain Captain (Lieutenant at the time, this is mutton chop free John) at a bar where they share a bathroom cubicle together.

words: 3339

Pairing: Captain Price x OC

Fandon: Call of Duty: MW

Smut under the cut, 18+ MINORS DNI

P in V sex, hand jobs, fingering, semi-public sex, protected sex, stranger sex, with a big old heaping of praise and voice kink on top.

2012 - London, England - Lost Society Bar, Clapham 21:00

Rory shivered as the night air kissed her bare shoulders. The bass beat of the rock music playing inside thumping in her skull the same way the heavy wheels of an armored vehicle did. The kick of the drum, the steady march of boots. Blowing out the last puff of smoke from her cigarette, she stubbed out the butt on the railing she was leaning over and headed back inside to the attic club.

Five years she’d been fighting in Afghanistan, and leave always felt far too short compared to the time spent on the ground. Her father told her to take the time she was given and have some fun, it wasn’t too often a hero got to come home and rest, to everyone else she knew that meant going out on a Saturday night and getting piss drunk for fun.

Sydney, her best friend in the trenches, a perky blonde who had the choice of the army or a juvenile detention center in Aberdeen all those years ago, took her by the arm. “Come on, happy hour’s starting.”

“I don’t think I need anymore, Syd.”

“Fuck off, you and me are out to get hammered and then head home with some fit blokes. We spent enough time getting shot at, I intend to get bent over and fucking railed.”

Rory rolled her eyes but followed her friend to the bar, ordering a whiskey – neat – while Sydney lined up a row of vodka shots, quickly tossing them down her neck. Sipping from her glass, she leaned her back against the bar, her elbows propped up on the counter as she scanned the bar’s makeshift dance floor. She couldn’t help her instincts kicking in, her battle-ready brain having her scan for threats… or perhaps a partner .

Sydney tossed another shot back, her long lengths of hair shaking as she had a full body shiver, the liquor burning the back of her throat. “You need to relax, Ror. You’re going to scare the lads away. They can smell the fear on you like a pack of wild dogs.”

“Jesus Christ, Syd, I’m just getting the lay of the land.”

“We’re not in the fucking desert.” Tapping Rory’s army, she drank her last shooter and grabbed Rory’s hand to drag her to the dance floor. “Come on.”

“Nah, I’m gonna stay at the bar for a while. Might get a cab home soon.”

“Spoil sport,” Sydney huffed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rory said with a wave of her hand, unfazed by her friends mocking. “Have fun.”

“Whatever you say, Corporal,” Syd gave her a quick salute – which was nicer than the flip of the bird Rory had expected – before heading into the crowd, leaving her fellow soldier to her own company.

Sighing, she took another sip of the amber liquor, her elbow knocking against the forearm of another, and her hazel eyes drifted over to a stocky man with a five o’clock shadow, his blue eyes sparkling as he met her with a smirk. “Sorry, love.”

Pulling her arms in towards herself, she gave him a friendly smile. “My fault, sorry.”

His brow furrowed slightly, leaning in towards her so he didn’t have to yell over the music. “Are you American?”

“No.” She shook her head, her long brown ponytail swaying against her shoulders. “Canadian.”

His smirk grew a little wider, blue eyes gleaming. “Should’ve figured that when you actually apologized.”

“Our reputation precedes us, eh?” She teased, putting on a heavier, more distinct Canadian accent, the kind that brought to mind Mounties and maple syrup.

“Only a little, yeah.” He waved at the barkeeper trying to get their attention. “On vacation then?”

“No. On leave – just got back from Afghanistan.”

He looked her over, straightening in his seat. His smile fading as he blinked rapidly for a moment, caught off guard to see someone like her as a soldier. “No shit.”

Her new friend tried once more to get the attention of the barkeeper, waving his hand, failing to even get a glance. Placing her hand on top of his, she winked, “Allow me.” Bringing her fingers to her lips, she whistled, the high pitch squeal enough to grab the barkeep's attention. Adding a wave and a smile on top of it, ensuring she was served next, she turned back to the man beside her and continued their conversation, “Why? You too?”

“Urzikstan.” He said, nodding.

He spoke in short, abrupt sentences. His voice gruff. She should have known he was a soldier. Her brows raised as she hummed into her drink, taking a sip and then hissing at the burn. “Small world.”

“Apparently.”

When the barkeeper came over, she was quick to continue the interaction. “Another whiskey for me, and one for my friend here?” She asked him with a cock of her brow.

“Yeah, whiskey’s good.” His grin was charming. The way his brow lifted, and his jaw shifted as he looked her up and down enough to tell her he was interested. “I’m going to have to remember that trick, though I doubt it’ll work as well for me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She stretches her arms out, pushing away from the bar. It had been so goddamn long since she’d flirted with anyone. “You’re handsome enough,” she said with a playful nod of her head.

He gave her a half smile and tapped the corner of his lighter on the counter, shifting his shoulders. “Glad someone thinks so.”

She leaned against the counter with one elbow, twirling the length of her ponytail around her fingers, her attention firmly planted on him. “Please, a strapping soldier like you, I’m sure you have a port in every storm,” she said half jokingly, but almost expecting it to be true.

“Not really my thing,” he said with a slight narrowing of his eyes, his voice lowering.

Looking up at him through her lashes, the lump in her throat suddenly formed. She could feel the flush coming on and she held out her hand to formally greet him before she said something that might get her in trouble. “I’m Rory. Rory Sinclair.”

“John Price.”

Shaking hands, he held her tight in his grip and she could feel the calluses on his palm brush up against her. She couldn’t help but notice how tiny her hand looked in comparison to his, and suddenly the battle-ready brain went quiet. On her own, dressed in a cocktail dress and heels, the combat gear nowhere in sight, she licked her lips, her mouth opened, and a soft sigh drifted from her.

…

The bathroom stall door burst open as John pushed her back into the cubicle, pressing her into the wall, their mouths locked in a kiss. Closing the door, he fumbled with the lock for a moment before his hand returned to her waist, the other with a firm grip on her jaw as he tilted her mouth up to meet his. Breathless, her hands grabbed at his back as she held him tighter to her. “I never do this sort of a thing,” she mumbled between kisses. Nodding, he kissed her harder, his lips overtaking hers, and she moaned into his mouth. Hands slipping to his belt, she started to undo the buckle. Fighting with it, struggling, a nervous chuckle slipped from her as his large hands held hers.

Breaking their kiss, he gave her a smile and a wink. “Lemme help you with that, love.” With a quick motion, his belt came loose. He had deft hands, used to having to work fast while under fire. Taking a piss in the desert sometimes meant life or death.

Her hand rose to his shoulder, curling around the back of his head to pull him in for another kiss, and she purred as a hand drifted up the warm skin of her thighs, fingers trailing up the hem of her skirt to rest on the waistband of her thong. His fingertips just skimmed her flesh under the material, but it was enough to send a shiver through her. Looking down at herself, her dress hiked up around her waist, and his hands hooked through her panties, she weighed out her options. She was on the pill, but…

“Have you got protection?”

“A good soldier never goes in unprepared.”

She huffed out a laugh and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, shifting his hand to slip down the front of her panties, resting it against her mound. Heat radiated off her, building as his fingers began to stroke her folds. Swallowing thickly, her mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips. Already aroused from them kissing, his touch was setting her on fire, biting her lip to hold in her moan as his thumb pressed to her clit.

“Already wet for me, Rory?” He purred, his northern accent getting thicker as he leaned down towards her, his mouth sucking on her neck, his tongue dragging against her thumping veins.

“I said you were handsome,” she breathed.

Chuckling, he pressed his free hand to the wall by her head, caging her in against the cubicle wall until she was pressed flush against it. Rubbing circles against her throbbing clit, his other fingers began to delve into her dripping cunt. Entering her, stretching her, sinking deeper inside of her. Pumping in and out. Slowly. His kisses became slower, deeper. His lips bruising hers, her pink pout made swollen and sore. With a lick of his lips, his tongue entered her mouth, and she could taste the smoke and liquor on his breath.

Sliding her hand down the front of his boxers, she wrapped her slender fingers around the head of his hard cock, and it throbbed against her touch. Her fist slowly lowering along his shaft to the base, dragging the pre-cum that leaked from his cock down it, and a groan fell from his lips. Stroking him over and over, squeezing slightly as she did so, her eyes were glued to his. A hungry gleam in her stare, watching as his brow furrowed and he started to pant, a low growl building in his chest as his kisses became rougher, trailing from her mouth down her neck, and further still to her collar bone.

His hand, once pressed to the wall, slipped down her shoulder and over her chest, sliding down the front of her dress, and in past the cup of her bra. He squeezed her breast, pinching her nipple until she whined. His other hand still fucking into her, making her a whimpering mess. She bucked her hips up against him, driving his fingers in deeper. Writhing up against the wall, her back arching as he brought her close to her climax. Mumbling against his kiss, “Please, fuck me.”

Looking up at her through his brow, he gave her a smile. His voice kept low, “Oh, I like the way you beg, darling.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, the knot in her core tightening and right on the verge of snapping under his touch. Her legs started to shake, her knees damn near buckling. “Please,” she whispers a little softer.

His hand fell to the underside of her thigh, clamping around it as he lifted her leg, her knee parallel with his hip. Pulling her panties to the side, he lined up the head of his cock with her entrance and thrust up into her, giving her a moment to settle around him. Gasping as he pushed up into her, stretching her more than his fingers did, she sank down onto his shaft and a low moan escaped her, her eyes rolling back at how full she felt.

“That’s it, love. You can take it, can’t you?” He cooed into her ear, praising her as he stroked her thigh gently with his thumb. Thrusting his hips slowly, he dragged the first few inches of his cock in and out of her, her arousal allowing him to slide easily inside of her with little friction. She could do nothing but nod, her mind too addled by the feeling of his cock inside of her to even think straight enough to speak. She hadn’t been fucked in so long, she barely had the time to masturbate if she wasn’t at the barracks or back home, and here was this fucking man to take her.

“That’s a good girl,” his gruff tone sent a shiver down her spine, and she grabbed at his waist, pushing him in deeper, forcing a grunt out of him. His brow quirked up, and his blue eyes twinkled. She wasn’t some weak, timid little thing. “You want more, darling?”

“Yeah, I do.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and encircled his waist with her legs. Lifting her up in his arms, her back was shoved up against the flimsy wall of the bathroom stall, a breathy laugh escaping them both as their exploits made a thunderous bang.

“I can give you more.” He let his jeans and underwear slip down his legs, wrapping around his knees and pooling at his feet, as he fucked up harder into her, filling her with as much of his length as she could take. His gaze fell to where his cock disappeared inside of her, watching as it stroked back and forth, in and out of her, glistening because of her. “Fucking hell. Your cunt feels fucking incredible. So fucking tight,” he groaned out.

She had no answer, no response, all she could do was moan. Her cunt clenching around him, dripping all over his cock. She kissed him, hard . Her teeth dragging against his lower lip as she curled her hips up towards him, rocking against him as he continued to thrust, bouncing her up and down as his hips met with hers. The smack of skin on skin clapping together filling the bathroom even as other patrons entered and exited. It didn’t matter now, wrapped up in his arms, her head spinning – the good Canadian girl had been put to bed.

Her head lolled back as she could feel the muscles in her legs tighten, squeezing around him, locking him in. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she growled, her nails dragging across his shoulders. The base of her spine felt like it was on fire, a quick stinging cramp, and suddenly she went rigid, fighting to get out words as she came, “You are so fucking hot.”

His laugh was warm and genuine, smiling against her lips as he kissed her, stealing what little of her breath she had left. “Much appreciated, love,” he stuttered between the bucking of his hips. “I’m getting close, you mind –?” He eyed down at his jeans on the floor.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry .”

His grin was unable to fade as she continued apologizing. “And to think I thought you were American.”

She rolled her eyes and loosened the grip of her thighs around his waist as he lowered her back to the floor. Bending down, he looked up at her, his glance drifting to her cunt and the sheen of her arousal on the inside of her thighs. His tongue dragged across his lips before grabbing the condom from his jeans and standing up.

“Yeah, you really don’t have a port in every storm,” she teased.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. Bringing the condom wrapper to his mouth, he tore it open and pulled out the rubber, slipping it down his still hard cock. His gaze drifted over her again, taking in her curves before focusing on her eyes. “You really are lovely.”

“Am I?” She said, with hands on her hips, pretending not to have fallen for his charms already.

He nodded, his hand collecting her chin before he kissed her again – slow, languishing, heated. “Why don’t you turn around for me,” he purred. A hint of a command in his voice.

She looked up at him and smiled, her cheeks blushing as she turned around and lifted up her dress for him once more. Glancing at him over her shoulder, he gave her another smirk as he dragged his fingers along his tongue and ran them between her thighs and across the folds of her still soaking cunt. Saddling himself up against her, grabbing her hips, he tucked up against her ass and pushed up into her still needy cunt. A tight fit at first, as he started to move inside of her again, penetrating her, she started to open like a flower.

Rory moaned, resting her forehead against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as he filled her to the brim. Slipping his hand down the front of her panties, he stroked her clit while squeezing her hip with the other hand. His thrusts were powerful, determined. Her nails dragged down against the wall with nothing to cling to, her breath fighting to leave her as she mewled, pressed up against it with nowhere to go. “Feels so fucking good. Jesus, god , your cock is amazing.”

His mouth fell to her neck, sucking yet more hickeys on her skin. Leaving his mark. “Yeah? You like that?”

“Mhmm,” her teeth dragged over her lip, and she was getting close all over again. Grabbing at his hand between her legs, she was forced to stop him as another wave washed over her and her knees nearly gave out under her.

“Easy there, darling.” He held her, his body pressed tight against her, keeping her safe. Protected. “I’ll be gentle with you now, eh?” He whispered, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, his stubble burning her.

She wrapped her arm around the back of his neck, clinging to him as he kissed her. His thrusts slowing, getting deeper. Groaning against her, mumbling her name as he got closer to the edge himself. His grip got tighter on her hip, his pace no longer maintained, his breath huffing out against her in hot blasts, fanning against her neck. “So fucking pretty.” His arm snaked around her waist. His. “God, I’m so fucking close.” His fingers dug into her hip, hard enough to bruise and with the last few stuttering thrusts, he came inside her.

They stood there together, two strangers, only knowing each other’s name and occupation, and yet he held her tight. His hand trailing up her waist and letting her dress slip back down to cover her thighs as he slowly pulled away from her, trying to catch his breath.

Fixing her dress and running a hand over her forehead and down the side of her face, she turned around to face him. They stood there, staring, not sure what to say to each other. “Listen, I, uh –” she stammered and looked down at her heels as he grabbed his underwear and jeans from the floor, pulling them back up his legs. “I’m only on leave for a few weeks, I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“Not to worry, love. I’m in the same boat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk.

“I mean, it was…” she exhaled deeply, “It was very good. I would totally call you again.”

He clenched his jaw and smiled at her, his brow creasing as he looked up at her from under it. “You don’t have to stroke my ego, darling. I get it.”

“Well, um, I guess if I see you out there in the field, or whatever…”

He kissed her again, leaning over her. “Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” Hazel eyes stared at his mouth as he spoke, his voice low and gravely. “It was nice meeting you, Rory.”

“You too, John.”

Saying nothing more, he ducked out of the stall, leaving her there to clean up. She shoved the door to the stall closed and couldn’t help but giggle to herself. Syd was right, they were there to get bent over and railed after all.

That was certainly one way to spend her leave.

#skelly writes #call of duty #cod mw2 #captain john price #captain price smut #captain price x oc #oc: rory sinclair #ship: you are the sword to my shield #cod fanfiction

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teecupangel · 2 years ago

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Just binge watched Lucifer on Netflix and now I present to you:

Desmond Miles survives 2012 (Desmond Miles Lives truthers, where ya at?), gets the hell outta dodge from the temple with new POE powers, and gets hired to work at Lux in LA. Meets his new boss and both of them are like, "!"

Lucifer instantly knows this boy is hella special because, damn does his soul reek of Isu Bullfuckery. (Headcanoned God and his Angels are sort of a rival interdimensional species to Isu, and God is the one who supposedly gave humans free will... idk I never paid attention to bible study anyway.)

Does the whole, "what do you desire?" schtick and Desmond, due to POE powers and Isu Bullshittery, wonders 'why the fuck is actual Satan here in LA?'

I imagine a platonic bromance relationship between these two. Y'know? 'Cause on the one hand we have the Reluctant Ruler of Hell and on the other hand the Reluctant Savior/Sacrificial Lamb of Humankind.

Lucifer could offer safety and protection from whoever Desmond is hiding from, while Des can be his bartender/bouncer/very much-needed BFF. And come on, I betcha good ole Lucy boy (and Maze) would absolutely enjoy dragging a couple a lot of Abstergo people Vidic down to Hell for multiple crimes against humanity(i.e. kidnapping and unethical human experimentation which results in mental instability.)

I’m all in for this idea. Desmond and Lucifer being bash brothers, yes please. Just imagine the chaos these two would get to because they're both morally dubious? XD

Also, just imagine how much faster Chloe would be finishing her cases with Desmond’s Eagle Vision? She would have two cheat codes with her this time.

Anyway, I’m going to focus on how we can integrate Lucifer into AC more in this one.

Before anything, just a sorta fun trivia: Lucifer has a little cameo in Crisis on Infinite Earths and he talks to John Constantine, implying they have some sort of history together. John Constantine is played by Matt Ryan who voiced and mocap’ed Edward Kenway XD

We will be keeping this contained to Lucifer though but you can totally add a John Constantine cameo and set it during the time Desmond is working in Lux (and you can totally add Desmond feeling some sort of longing and sorrow because John Constantine sounds and looks familiar to his Bleed of Haytham Kenway)

Alright, with that little trivia out of my system, let’s talk about how we can push Lucifer into AC canon.

(You might not have paid attention to bible study but my religion teacher was so boring he had to implement a rule that there should be no other notebook/books related to other subjects on our table during class because we kept doing other subjects when he’s lecturing us soooooo I was bored enough to read the bible he made us bring every class. I'm sure he'll be proud I'm using what I learned in his class for fic related things XD)

Let’s talk about God in Lucifer’s show. He’s obviously based on the Judeo-Christian God. Now, we have no confirmation if that said God does exist as an Isu in Assassin’s Creed BUT we do have a leeway we can use to make it easier to integrate the characters from Lucifer into Assassin’s Creed.

The Templar Order uses the phrase “May the Father of Understanding guide you”. Now, this is based on the Isu triad that pops up a bit.

The one we’re more familiar with is the Capitoline Triad where Tinia is known as the “Father of Understanding”.

However, there is an earlier iteration of this triad.

The Isus who created humans.

And the one to hold the title of ‘Father of Understanding’ during that time is Yaldabaoth.

From Wikipedia

Gnosticism presents a distinction between the highest, unknowable God, and the Demiurge, "creator" of the material universe.

Gnostic Christians considered the Hebrew God of the Old Testament as the evil, false god and creator of the material universe, and the Unknown God of the Gospel, the father of Jesus Christ and creator of the spiritual world, as the true, good God.

If we use the statements above and the fact that Yaldabaoth is considered one of the creators of mankind, we can set up God as another Isu scientist who had an alternate idea of a workforce but his idea was pushed aside and Yaldabaoth’s project with the other two Isu scientists moved forward.

God, in anger, created his ‘children’ together with the Goddess. And, to complete the triad, we’ll add Lilith as an Isu as well instead of Adam’s first wife. The three of them (although Lilith has a more advisory role to this entire thing and is actually working on her own workforce idea) created the ‘Angels’, trying to one-up all the data they could get from Yaldabaoth’s project to make them better than humans.

They are. Unfortunately, that meant they were also… shall we say… ‘freer’ than humans as well. God knew that the Isus would see them as defective and, not only that, many would find what they have done as some form of betrayal and being stripped of their rank and status would be the lightest sentence the Isu would give them. So God and Goddess kept the Angels a secret, and passed them off as human slaves while Lilith went her merry way and continued to work on her personal workforce.

And now we come to the whole ‘gave mankind freewill’.

So many like to point at Lucifer as being the serpent that gave Eve the forbidden fruit. Let’s use it. Lucifer, being one of God’s first children, takes an Apple of Eden and presented it to Eve who used it to start the Human-Isu war. Lucifer takes up arms to join the humans.

Things get super messy when they find out about the impending Solar Flare and God and Goddess decided to add their consciousness to a device called ‘Heaven’. (In this setup, Goddess!Charlotte would be like a more ‘questionable’ setup of an Isu consciousness overwriting a human’s consciousness). Their children (who did have the kind of body that would survive a solar flare and were more or less immortal) were tasked with guarding ‘Heaven’.

Except Lucifer who, as punishment for starting the whole Human-Isu war, was tasked to guard a device called ‘Hell’. He guarded it together with Lilith’s ‘children’, the demons.

What these two devices do will be a mystery but they are connected to the Gray in some way and to the Calculations. Perhaps it’s even the actual database of all the Calculations and, by that very definition, it housed all the knowledge, memories and emotions of every living thing in the world.

What defines them as a person.

What defines their soul.

And, from there, we can just integrate all Celestial things in the show as this entirely more advanced workforce’s ‘code words’. (And the devices are connected and that’s why God could boot the Goddess into hell)

By the time 2013 rolls around, Lucifer already owned Lux for a few years now and Desmond applies as a bartender as he’s had enough of all these Assassin-Templar BS to last him a lifetime. He saved the world, this is his damn retirement plan.

Lucifer sees him and goes ‘how interesting, an actual human-POE hybrid.’ while Desmond sees him and goes ‘why does he feel… familiar?’ because his Isu genes and POE-hybridness is giving him signals that Lucifer is definitely not human BUT he ain’t an Isu too.

He’s… Isu-adjacent.

Like Maze.

So Desmond continues to work there and Lucifer finds the perfect time to do the whole “what do you desire?” and Desmond’s POE-hybridness just kicked in.

We’ll make it in this fic that all the Apples are connected to one another and they have a ‘shared memory space’ so Desmond ‘remembers’ that this is the smug bastard who gave the Apple to Eve.

And, because of his limited knowledge of religion, he goes “Why the fuck is actual Satan here in LA?!”

(side note: some count Satan and Lucifer as two different beings but, in this case, we’ll just make Satan another name for Lucifer)

So now they both showed their hands. Lucifer just blatantly showed he wasn’t human and Desmond just showed he has Isu-related knowledge.

Cue an entire night of trying to get drunk while talking about what the fuck happened to them (with special mention to their daddy issues and the whole reluctant ruler of hell and the ‘more-or-less pushed into it’ savior/sacrifice)

At the end of their heart-to-heart, Desmond becomes Lucifer’s main confidant and slowly becomes his BFF. Lucifer uses his mojos to keep Desmond hidden from both Assassins and Templars.

Also… it’s not just Abstergo’s that in his shitlist. William Miles is there as well, that’s for damn sure.

Another subplot we can add is that Lucifer ‘asking’ Chloe to look into Abstergo just so he can, you know… ask them… what they desire?

Other unorganized notes:

What do we do with Juno? I set it to 2013 so Desmond dealt with Juno before peacing out to be a random bartender. Hey, if Ubisoft can do it in the comics, we can take out Juno with one paragraph… maybe even one sentence.

Desmond could see through Maze’s shapeshifting. Whenever he uses Eagle Vision, he sees Maze’s true form.

Actually, Desmond’s Eagle Vision has been powered up by his POE-hybridness that he sees EVERYONE’s true form. His only description of Lucifer’s form? “Bright as fuck.” (this also means Desmond knows Michael by 'sight')

Also, Amenadiel? He looovvveess Desmond’s Shirley Templars.

Lucifer’s deals? He has a connection to Hell and, because of that connection, he’s connected to the Calculations as well. In this case, any deal he makes impacts the Calculations slightly so the person making the deal would get what they want.

Also, this:

#desmond being bff with the devil #lucifer having an actually uncomplicated honest (platonic) relationship for once #the one who suffers is maze #a lot #assassin's creed #desmond miles #lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #ask and answer #i am still sad constantine didn’t get a 2nd season #liked matt ryan since criminal minds

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