#making the cigarettes for him like he just fucking loves him its so funny. and then when we see stan actually doing his job he complains

[dirt-str1der]

Theres no season 4 because theyre too scared to animate the canon gay couple. They know its going to change the dr stone mrm ecosystem forever

[cherry-romper]

What they're like

+ Kafka, Reno, Iharu, Haruichi, Aoi, Hoshina, Gen

Kafka;

What a fucking himbo

Is so incredibly dedicated to his dream it's so admirable but can be a yapper about it - mostly to do with Kaiju anatomy, his yap sessions end with everyone scrambling to take notes.

Isn't aware of how much people respect and care for him.

Sometimes can be a little overbearing, he DOES NOT have an inside voice. Reno and you often keeps him in check but he insists he's not talking loud.

Tells the DUMBEST jokes: "What two words, when combined, hold the most letters?" Then he'd piss himself telling everyone it's "post office"

Is unaware of his improving strength and tends to expect things to be heavier than they are and ends up launching things across a room.

Sometimes gets withdrawals from quitting cigarettes, especially after a stressful day and can get kinda irritable, but being around you and his friends helps curb the cravings. 

Reno;

Opinionated, always willing to give out advice but doesn't often give it without being asked.

Loves doing things for people. Will go out of his way get people stuff if they need it but also knows how to put himself first.

Often quiet in social situations, more of a people watcher than pleaser

Very focused of improving, you can often find him in the training room or library when he has free time

Pushes people to do their best.

Is so down to help people if they ask him no matter what it is.

Once he's started something he'll see it through no matter what.

He's stubborn to a fault

Iharu;

Hot headed but level headed

Easy to talk to, but often only talks about work - kinda to be expected.

Lightens up every room he's in

Doesn't like to see his comrades down in the dumps so will try his hardest to put a smile on their faces

The hypeman of all hypemen

Smart asf, doesn't need help studying but is so down for group study sessions

Can be quite envious of others constantly improving, sometimes you'll find him staring off Into space thinking about improving, lost in deep thought - often he won't even notice you till you shake him out of it, he will shout at you for "not announcing" yourself.

 Can be quite flirty on and off the field but mostly when his adrenaline is pumping. Back and forth banter and teasing insults do something to him.

Haruichi;

Rich boy with really good manners

Cares about his comrades and treats them to meals when they all have the time

Has a skincare and haircare routine

Sleeps with a silk pillow

Absolutely loves having little rivalries with people, it pushes him to be a better fighter.

Completely dedicated to the force but the reservations about his family and the company he'll inherit one day sometimes hold him back from giving his all.

Takes mental notes on how the suits could be improved while he's fighting.

Aoi;

Built like a brick.

Abs like a washboard.

As dense as his body is, he's very agile and quick to move.

Heaviest footsteps known to man

He absolutely loves his peace and quiet, though he's used to having to share his space and time.

Is big on respect but it's something he believes should be earned and not given.

Being ex-military, he's BIG on routines. Doesn't realise he even has one but you've noticed his little patterns.

Light sleeper, but quick to fall asleep. Once his head hits the pillow he is OUT.

Hoshina;

Is terrifying when he's serious and knows it. He loves pretending to be serious to scare people, he finds their reactions hilarious. 

Finds everything funny. Will laugh just to fill silence. 

Always smiling, its almost uncanny. 

Loves his comrades but isn't one to admit that. 

Sometimes he'll go quiet in social situations and just watch everyone messing around, those little moments are his favourite and he treasures them.

Will linger over peoples shoulders when they're studying then make disappointed faces at their work, known nothing they wrote is wrong, he just finds it funny that he made them paranoid. 

Narumi;

Will only give you the time of day if you're good. If you're average or below when it comes to combat, he will not even know your name.

Egotistical beyond comprehension. 

Cocky and sarcastic, gets away with talking back because he's the strongest. 

Adores back and forth teasing. If you can match him in combat he expects you to match him in wit too. 

Finds comfort in his own mess, reminds him he's still alive (he's just lazy)

Likes making little nooks/nests out of pillows to sleep/game in. Also a big fan of pillow forts.

[youleftmenochoicebut]

IS IT NEW YEARS YET? — sirius black x reader

SUMMARY. — it’s the new year’s eve party at Potter’s house, and you broke up with your partner a few weeks back.

PAIRING. — sirius black x fem!reader

WARNINGS. — uhm… my writing being fuckass (thats not a word); some making out?

A/N. — just a quick blurb cause its almost 4am and i can’t sleep

„heyyy, there you are!” Sirius’ voice brings you out of your own head and you turn in his direction, amused as you watch him practically waddle over to you.

he’s drunk out of his ass, that stupid goofy smile plastered on his face, making him look ever so softer than usually. you, on the other hand, haven’t drunk almost anything, not really being the life of the party tonight despite trying. you reach out your hands, grasping his shoulder and helping him maintain balance while he enters the balcony and slumps down on the ground with a groan.

the two of you are silent for a moment, you sipping slowly on your heavily watered down drink, and him staring at you.

„party’s that boring you came looking for me?” you finally mutter, raising your eyebrows, and it’s painfully clear for you both that you’re trying to keep the spirits high, poorely.

„it’s almost midnight.” he replies casually, shrugging, and he flashes you another one of those grins of his, to which you just shake your head. „i didn’t want you to be alone. everyone needs someone to kiss when the clock strikes twelve.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, and for a beat you just gather your thoughts. Sirius and you are… complicated, if to say in one word. never really best friends, never really hated each other. never neutral, but never something more. in the same friend group since your 4th year at Hogwarts, yet never been truly alone together for more than a couple minutes.

surprisingly though, he was the one at your side comforting you after your recent breakup. ever since that, you’ve both been feeling the tension between you, but neither have had the guts to act on it. yet.

„very funny, Pads.” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair to brush it back, and you swear you saw his smile drop for a second, but just like that it’s back. „im not really in the mood to kiss anyone.”

Sirius lets out an annoyed huff, messily searching his pockets to pull out two crumbled up cigarettes, passing one to you. you take it, of course, and light it up with a quick incendio. the air around you feels almost serene as you both inhale and exhale the smoke, and if it wasn’t for the loudness of the party going on inside, you’d say something about it. instead you focus on your cigarette, your gaze focused on the stars above you as you blow out the smoke lazily.

„i cannot understand half of the muggle shit Lils and Remy try to show us, but Merlin, i fucking love cigarettes.” you murmur softly, a chuckle escaping your mouth at your own words, glancing back at Sirius. he’s staring at you again, and when you catch him in the act he smiles, nodding along.

„hell yeah. and that other shit. uh-huh, vodka!” he eagerly weights in, already finishing off his smoke, and he leans in closer to you, his fingers grazing over your knee.

you hum in agreement, taking your sweet time with that cig, before putting it out against the railing. when Sirius leans over, you shudder under his feather-light touch, ready to back away. but that’s right when you hear the people inside start to count down from ten, and you sigh.

suddenly, Sirius tugs on the sleeve of your dress, quickly wrapping his arm around your waist, and he pulls you in. for a wasted man, his moves are smooth and steady as always, hands now resting on your lower back as you’re straddling his lap. your lips pursed together in slight agitation, and the moment you start to pull away you hear a loud ONE, and you know what’s coming.

somehow Sirius’ hands are now on your cheeks, and his lips press against yours lightly, not making any rushed movement, clearly waiting for you to reciprocate. and after a short second you do, your arms wrapping around his neck loosely as you even deepen the kiss.

it gets more heated than you’d thought it would, his hands trailing all over your body almost frantically, squeezing at your thighs, your hips, your waist, the underboob area. a soft whimper escapes you when you two pull away, your lips red and swollen already.

„happy new year, Y/N.” Sirius whispers against your skin, his mouth sauntering over your neck as he starts to leave wet kisses there, and your fingers tangle into his hair.

„happy new year, Siri.” you whisper, biting back a moan at his ministrations, the tiniest of smiles making its way onto your face.

welcome 1979, goodbye 1978.

[bellshells]

A Promise of Grim Death

Hi! First, I’ve never written for Art before- but I loved it. 10/10 will do again.

Second, I wrote, edited and posted this on my phone. Times are hard bestie, we do what we can. So if you see any errors in there, shh no you don’t.

Third, there’s a few TW here; I’ll do my best to list them all. But surely to god if you’re reading Art The Clown anything you know there’s going to be batshit times ahead. Okay, love you bye!

TW: language, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of gratuitous violence, murder (only a little one and it’s not too bad I promise), thoughts of a sexual nature (Art remembers that fucking is a thing), suggestions of grooming, suggestions of familial death, stalking, masturbation, art??? Is he his own trigger warning?

Art had been trailing Sienna for hours. He followed her from Target to what he assumed was her new apartment, and now he sat in a parking lot downtown in a beaten up van. He had seen her go down an alleyway hidden somewhat on the corner of 86th and Maple a couple of hours ago, and whilst he waited for her to reappear, he thought of all the ways in which he could inflict the most unimaginable pain unto her.

He considered flaying, but that was too time consuming for very little pay off. He thought about some good old fashioned water torture, but he was still too impatient. Art was desperate to end Sienna. He wanted to watch the life drain from her eyes, the last thing she would see on this mortal plane was the smiling face of Art the Clown. He sighed silently, he didn’t miss talking per se, but he did miss being able to convey his annoyance. The bike horn had its charm; don’t get him wrong. But sometimes he missed being able to sigh, or grunt or scream. Screaming was also fun. After another thirty minutes of listening to Talk Radio, the only way to consume radio in his opinion, he decided to take action. Pulling his black bag full of items of his pleasure/your pain close to his chest, he exited his vehicle.

Rounding the corner to the alleyway, he surveyed his surroundings. The sun had long set and a low sitting fog had begun to settle. Art loved nights like this, he could often smell the fear of passersby before he could see them. For as they say, you never knew what could be lurking in the dark. For Art though, he could almost sustain himself off of the fear itself. Almost. He gave a trash can a big, jolly kick knocking it tumbling into two more. He genuinely found this very funny indeed, especially when the homeless man who was sound asleep between them jumped up in a daze. The man was all arms and legs, shouting incoherently. When he saw Art, a cold terror swept over his face and he tripped over himself trying to make his escape. Art was faster though, he gripped a handful of the man’s shaggy hair as he tried to run and pulled down, bringing his knee up to meet the man’s face in an expert blow. Art did this a further three times, with each connection to the man’s face, it concaved further in on itself until he was unrecognisable. Just a mass of blood and sharp pieces of bone, exposed cartilage and teeth. Lots of teeth.

A bang from further along the alley made him freeze. He dropped the homeless man immediately, and kicked him against the wall. Dodging behind a broken fire escape, Art saw a door open and a figure step out. He craned his head to see who it was, though he needn’t have. He knew it was her, opening a dumpster and throwing trash bags inside.

He eyed Sienna with a white hot fury as she closed the dumpster, his view partially obscured by the fire escape; but it was enough to see her fish a bottle of hand sanitiser out from an apron she wore around her waist. Art toyed with the idea of shooting her there and then. One swift bullet straight into her skull would leave such a pretty smattering of brain matter on the dull brickwork behind her, but no, he wanted to make this last. He wanted to hurt her. He took one step out from his hiding spot, but the sound of a gruff man’s voice behind Sienna stopped him.

“Get your ass back in here, we’re getting fucked in the ass behind this bar,” Sienna’s shoulders slumped as she turned to face the man, he too wore an apron and dried his hands on an off white towel.

“It’s almost like you want to drown in trash,” she said, the man gave her a sarcastic smile and held the door open for her. Art strained to hear what was said as the fire door slammed shut behind them, but the music emanating from within was too loud even for his sensitive ears.

He made his way over to the door and tried the handle to no avail. He pulled tightly and still the door wouldn’t budge, instead he decided to give it a swift kick. Fuck that door, he thought. Fuck it. Art wandered back onto the street, he counted back the buildings until he was sure he found the one that Sienna had emerged from. The blacked out windows of a bookshop confused Art, he was sure he heard music, and didn’t that guy mention a bar? A single flickering bulb hung limply above the entrance, it was a single framed door with a peephole that watched him as he studied the entrance. This had to be the place, but why did it look so sketchy? Art shrugged and pushed against the door, it opened slowly into a dark vestibule you couldn’t swing a cat in. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he noticed the walls lined with books were just a wallpapered effect. He brought a finger up and traced the seam where two panels joined. It was then that he heard applause, rapturous applause coming from below. He turned on himself, once and then once more until he could faintly make out a heavy black curtain hidden in one of the corners. Tentatively pushing it to one side, a narrow wooden staircase appeared before him. That familiar sound of music rose up from the stairs, and with one silent step, he descended them.

Art expected to find Sienna at the bottom, he deduced that she’d be behind the bar serving overpriced drinks to a newly gentrified crowd. And he did find that, but what surprised him was the unmistakable feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. Its beating was so ferocious he could hear it in his ears. It had been a long time since Art had felt his heartbeat. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he even had one anymore. But as he rounded the corner after the last step, he felt all too human indeed.

The bottom of the stairs opened up into a wide cavernous room with an arched ceiling decorated with twinkly lights. A bar on the far right hand side is where Sienna stood, chatting cheerfully with a customer as she wiped the bar top down. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Art didn’t care, for his attention had been entirely captured by the woman who stood on the stage. His black bag of goodies slipped from his shoulder and landed with a clang at his feet. This usually would have drawn attention, but the sound was disguised by the most beautiful sound he had heard.

She was tall this woman, not as tall as him of course, but she stood proudly in a red dress. Art couldn’t help but notice the way the velvet seemed to wrap around her body like an embrace. Her hair, long and the colour of fire pushed over her shoulders to expose her throat. He eyed it as she sang, the way it moved with each note. She was sultry in her movements too, her hands an extension of her voice, in her hair, on her hips, around her waist, thrust out into an equally captivated audience. Art swallowed instinctively and his mouth felt dry, he brought his fingers up to his lips and he noticed they were trembling. He stood until she finished her song, a long sustained note- impressive for any singer, but this was divine treacle dripping from her lips. The audience again were generous with their applause, this woman and her band, a drummer and some men with shitty jazz instruments basked in it. Art always took pleasure in killing musicians, artists or folk of that ilk. He enjoyed watching the life seep from them, their magnum opus often nothing more than a crimson stain upon his gloves. But this woman was wholly different, she was like a monolith of a bygone era. A penetrating gaze suddenly lowered, coupled with a flirtatious smirk of a red lip. A long white glove scandalously exposing the top of a bare arm, the most innocuous piece of flesh unexpectedly the most arousing promise of more. And boy did he feel that arousal.

It was foreign to him, alien almost. A dull ache in the pit of his stomach that had almost been entirely forgotten. He had once been a creature intent on satisfying his most carnal desires, and yet, in his contemporary memory- he was laden with an empty feeling of well, nothing. There was rage, and then, nothing. The only way in which Art could liken this feeling of sudden and irrevocable desire, was the desire in which he wanted Sienna Shaw dead. Not just dead, destroyed. Mutilated and destroyed and dead. Mutilated and destroyed and dead and finished. It was something that Art recognised deeply as an obsession, yet Art was also a master of getting what he wanted. What he wanted in that moment, was to hide.

Art noticed a small table set for two hidden partially behind a supporting pillar. He had a clear line of sight to the stage, yet he would be obscured from the bar. He would get to Sienna, he would, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, the threat of an erection that pushed gently against the front of his costume. Art’s first erection in a long, long time. He shuffled nervously from foot to foot. A flash of teenage panic behind his eyes. A memory of a girl with huge tits sitting in front of him on the school bus. A memory of another life.

He settled at the table and placed his bag in his lap, folding his hands over the top neatly. Art watched her intently, the way she interacted with her band, the way she fiddled with the cable of her microphone. He watched as it slipped slowly through her fingers, his dull ache became more of a throb. Art tried to skilfully cross one leg over the other without drawing any attention with as much grace a 6”4 monochromatic porteur de mort could muster. For the first time since Art had donned his costume all of those years ago, he tried to blend in. Act natural. He tried to be so inconspicuous he could almost be a waxwork in the corner. A forgotten project, or an antique put on display. Anything to not pull any attention away from this woman on the stage.

“This will be our last number,” the woman spoke into the microphone. The audience made noises of protest, but Art’s mouth ran dry once more. Her voice was like a gong in his ears, reverberating around his head. It was dizzying. It was thrilling. She smiled then, and Art’s chest deflated. His unfamiliar heartbeat arrhythmic, his brow sweaty. Christ, he thought, her smile was downright devastatingly lovely. He bared his bloodied teeth in response, a reflex responding to his unnatural thoughts. A defense against this monstrous vulnerability.

A couple of men on the table next to Art’s stood and moved toward the stairs, momentarily obscuring his view. Art banged his fist on the table furiously, the shorter of the two men jumped in fright and turned to look at Art, the shock on his face visible even in the dim light. Art shooed the man away with a flick of his wrist, his face twisted into a disgruntled snarl. These precious seconds lost, thought Art, she’s only singing one more song. He just wanted to look at her, he wanted to stare at her. He wanted his vision to be filled with nothing but this woman and the way her body moved to this number from the Great American Songbook. He remembered one of the nuns would listen to this song after hours, she would sit in the Reverend Mother’s office on the ledge of a large window. You could just about slip your wrist through the bars affixed on the outside, that was helpful if you needed to flick away the ash of a cigarette. Which she often needed to. Art remembered thinking this nun was rather pretty, for a nun that is. He would stand hidden behind a big filing cabinet and just watch her. She would pull her knees up to her chest and the skirt of her habit with them, letting the moonlight dance across her pale legs. Once, when he was fifteen, he remembered she caught him staring at her whilst she did this, instead of screaming for the Reverend Mother, she smiled and slowly pushed her stockings down her thighs, unclipping the suspender deftly with one hand. That same hand outstretched to him in silent invitation.

Art shook his head to clear his thoughts, he didn’t want to think about her. She was entire lifetime ago, two lifetimes ago even. No, he wouldn’t think about Sister Anne. Instead he would think about this other divine creature, this new one singing his favourite song. At least, it used to be. He was grateful that his little detour of memory had indeed killed his erection. A silent little breath of relief left him, he rubbed his eyes gently so as not to disturb his makeup. At least he could return his attention to the woman, he marvelled at her. She was beautiful, that was a given; but there was something else within her that drew him to her. Art found this physiological reaction complexing, he found it infuriating, but he also found it rather comforting in a strange way. It was like a piece of him that he thought had been lost forever. He supposed in fact not. He supposed that perhaps he just had a type, and his type was this one particular woman. Where usually he would look at someone; man or woman and feel the burning rage and desire to kill them in painful and obscene ways- with her, there was just this almost morbid desire to well, fuck her.

He remembered fucking too. He remembered liking it, loving it even. He used to fuck anyone that would let him, as even psychopathic killers have a line of morality they won’t cross. Boys, girls, nuns and everything in between. Art would fuck them. And he was good at it too. Perhaps a little sadistic, but he was good at making people cum. He wondered if he’d still be able to do it. He knew he still had blood in his veins, and his newfound ability of a racing heart was a not so unpleasant a surprise, but would his cock still work? Would it feel the same? Would he be able to-?

Art was drawn from his deep contemplation by a searing pain in his hand. He cried out, well, he would have if he had a voice. His eyes shot down to see a serrated blade used for cutting steak sticking out of the back of his hand, then a flurry of dark hair appeared over his shoulder. The maddening scent of apple and vanilla washed over him, it turned his stomach.

“You’re a real piece of shit turning up at my job,” Sienna hissed in his ear. Art moved his eyes to look at her menacingly, he brought a finger from his non-stabbed hand and pressed it to his lips and pointed at the stage. Sienna’s gaze wavered for a moment, flickering over to where the woman was finishing her song. Her last song. Art was furious with Sienna for ruining it. He’d add it to the list. “I won’t kill you in front of these people,” She said, “I need to keep this job, and it’s in your best interests if you go quietly. Don’t cause a scene, Art. You’ll regret it.” Art laughed at that, his shoulders bobbing up and down. Did she really think she could tell him what to do? Demand things from him? He swiftly pulled the knife out from the back of his hand and plunged it just as quickly into the top of her thigh. It was the fleshiest part so it wouldn’t kill her, she wouldn’t even bleed all that much. But it would give her a couple of hours in the ER, a minor inconvenience at best. He would have to be satisfied with causing her a minor inconvenience, there were more important things that required his attention. Sienna gasped with pain, her hands coming either side of the protruding blade. “Fuck!” She spat, her teeth clenched together. Art’s hand now ceased in its bleeding and would be right as rain come the morning. Annoyingly, so would Sienna. But that was by the by. “If you do anything to these people,” Sienna wheezed, “I will hunt you down.” Art gave a her a wave with his fingers, a saccharine smile plastered on his face. She limped off in the direction of the bar, the guy Art had seen talking to her in the alleyway rushed to her aid. He saw them talking animatedly, and he ushered her into a room behind the bar.

Art finally, finally returned his attention to the stage just as the woman finished her song. Art felt a sense of deflation as the final sweep of applause bounced off the walls. He joined them, quickly slapping his hands together. It was then, as the woman left the stage and the musicians started packing up their instruments that the house lights were raised ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the people around him to notice that there was a clown in their midst. Which on any day is odd, but on a cold late November night drew some raised eyebrows. The murmurs started then, and Art felt an unfamiliar discomfort. A heat raised on the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt embarrassment in a long time, even in his former life it had felt an age since the last time he had allowed himself to be embarrassed. Yet, as he heard the whispers and one interesting mention of Miles County he stood. He grasped his black bag and made his way silently up the stairs, acutely aware of the eyes that bore into his back with each step. Glancing over his shoulder, he longed for one last look at this woman, instead he found a poster haphazardly placed on the wall. It had her picture, her dazzling smile. Art gently pulled it from the wall and brought it to his lips, he didn’t kiss it, no, but he did run his lips over hers.

Back in his van, he produced the poster once more. It was an events poster by the looks of it, detailing all the acts playing at that bar, (which he now understood to be named The Speakeasy,) in the run up to Christmas. Art was derailed slightly by how impressed he was with the number of local acts on the bill, nodding in approval. He scoured the calendar at the bottom and found today’s date, November 20th. There he found three acts;

7:00- Sheena Morris

9:30- The Shortage System

11:15- Daphne Loveday and The Little Lovers

Art checked the time on the van clock, it was 12:45, that had to be her. Daphne Loveday. Daphne Loveday.

This woman, this holy apparition was due to perform every Thursday before Christmas. Art grumbled silently to himself. He hated the thought of not being able to see her again for a whole week. He could of course, follow her home tonight. See where she lived, observe her routine, get close to her even. But where Art’s usual vengeful fury lived, the familiar guttural need for blood was replaced with something else entirely. This feeling was not completely unknown to him, he had known desire and even love before. He loved his mother for instance, until he didn’t. He loved the Reverend Mother too, until her skull crumbled beneath his fingertips. He even had a minute softness for Vicky and well, yes, there was Vicky. But this was different. This was something else. This attraction, and he begrudgingly named it so, was an almost cosmic pull. Art had long since questioned his existence, human or otherwise, he knew better than to wonder why the things that happened to him happened.

Art turned the key in the ignition, resolving himself to no more play or plunder tonight. He felt that to take another life tonight would be disrespectful to her, to Daphne. No, tonight would be sacred to him. Whatever that meant. Sienna would have to wait. He pulled out from the parking lot and stopped just shy of the entrance to The Speakeasy, and saw Daphne’s band mates lugging their heavy equipment out of the front doors. They were wrapped up tightly in coats and scarves, the five men passed a lighter around them as they lit celebratory cigarettes. They chatted loudly, Art could hear their laughter as it carried down the street and through the slightly cracked open window of his van. He knew he was waiting for one last glimpse of her. One last glimpse and then he could go home. One last glimpse and he could go home and imagine the things he wanted to do to her. He refused to acknowledge the fact he didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to hurt her, but from the inside. He wanted to see the look on her face when that pain turned into blissful pleasure.

Focus.

Art watched intently as one of the men held the door open. Daphne emerged draped in a long green woollen coat, it hugged her waist and flowed just shy of the sidewalk, now glistening with the promise of a frosty morning. She pulled a large black suitcase behind her, getting caught on the frame of the front door. Before he could realise, Art was slamming the van door and in six quick strides he had grasped the handle of the suitcase and hoisted it over the threshold with ease. He collapsed the extendable piece and lifted it by its handle, waiting for further instruction. The musicians stood dumbfounded, he hadn’t realised that perhaps his silent approach and apparent theft of this woman’s suitcase would cause such an uneasy din to settle. The men eyed each other warily, each of them flashing a concerned look in Daphne’s direction. She, on the other hand looked surprised if largely unphased. This pleased Art. Pride swelled in his chest.

“Oh! Thank you,” Daphne said, her eyes alight with an almost humour. They were green, Art saw. She had the most beautiful green eyes. Art made a gesture for her to proceed and he would follow. Without looking at her band, she nodded and headed back towards the direction of the parking lot. Art followed dutifully behind her, refusing to glance back at the men behind him. He followed her to a silver minivan parked incredibly next to where Art had parked his own van. He could have just waited he thought, without outing himself so quickly. The rest of the band came around the corner as Daphne rooted her through pockets, producing a key. She unlocked the minivan and Art brought the suitcase to the trunk, opening it up and placing it gently inside. Daphne appeared next to him then and he caught a whiff of her. Incense and lily, and an almost metallic smell that he couldn’t work out. She smiled at Art again, as she rearranged some things already in her trunk, an old duffle bag, a pair of sneakers and a large black umbrella that almost took out Art’s good eye when she manoeuvred it. “Oops, sorry,” she giggled. Art thought he simply might pass away at the sound of her small laughter, once more he could hear his uneven heartbeat. It was thunderous. His stomach aflutter with the proximity of her body to his, twice she had accidentally brushed against his arm. Twice he felt the skin beneath his costume feel ablaze. “Thank you,” she said finally to Art. The other musicians had appeared and were adding their own cases into the mini van. Three of them had pushed the larger pieces into the body of the van, covering the back seats usually reserved for small children with black cased instruments. There was certainly no room for anyone else to sit, he wondered whether she would be going home alone.

“Oh fuck me,” said one of the men, he stood a ways off, tapping furiously on his phone. “The road’s closed between 75th and Main, there’s been an accident. Big pile up apparently,” he read from his phone, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Six cars, all dead.”

Yummy, Art thought.

“We’ll have to drive through Fair Creek to drop the stuff off,” said another, pinching the bridge of his nose. Daphne looked between them, Art stood back against the wall, hoping to disappear into the brickwork.

“That’s fine,” she levelled, “I have to swing by the ER anyway, see how madam clumsy is doing,”

Art shot a look at Daphne, she couldn’t possibly be talking about Sienna, could she? Fuck.

“I can take the van then,” said the first man, his hand outstretched for her keys. She dropped them into his palm and walked around the back of the minvan, she turned then.

“Hey, thanks for carrying my-“ she stopped short, looking for the clown. But Art had skulked back to his own van, headlights turned off and the window pulled all the way down. He could hear her perfectly, see her perfectly as she looked over her shoulder for Art. “Where did he go?”

“Who cares, that guy gave me the creeps,” said the new driver of the minivan. “Can we go? It’s fucking freezing,”

Daphne, still craning her neck to look for Art, acquiesced. He watched her climb into the backseat of a beat up Buick LaSabre with four of her bandmates. The other two in the minivan. Art tightened his grip on the steering wheel, he imagined how impossibly close she would be sitting in between two of those men. How they would be able to smell her, to feel her touch. He snarled into the darkness.

Art contemplated for a minute after he watched the cars disappear whether he should head to the hospital. He knew she’d be there, but he also knew Sienna would be there and he just did not have the energy to deal with the bullshit that would come from that. Instead, he drove toward the disused factory he called home. He had made a cozy, well for him, little safe haven in the very far corner of the roof. He figured somebody somewhere must still be paying for gas and water, because he was always able to get a hot shower. He didn’t really feel the need to eat anymore, but sometimes he would heat up a can of beans or a hot dog for old times sake. It was strangely cathartic for him.

He flipped the switch on his tiny, definitely shouldn’t still be working TV when he got home. He was met with a rerun of FRIENDS, he remembered how much Sister Anne had loved that show. How she used to sneak away during evensong to watch it in the Reverend Mother’s private apartment. She would tell Art about it the next day, and Art would recite the lines of characters he had never heard, just to make her laugh. He turned the TV off again. He made his way down to the shower block, stripping himself of his costume along the way. It really was cold outside now, he could see it in the whiteness of his breath as he exhaled under the heat of the shower. He didn’t necessarily remember what it was like to feel cold, but he liked to see the flesh pimple on his skin. He liked it when it happened on his victims too. Maybe it was an open window that did it, or his breath on their neck, but either way, it pleased him.

Art pulled at his mask, it resisted coming away from his skin and he pulled harder. Wincing as bit by bit, his flesh was revealed. It had been a long time since he had removed his mask, too. He let the water drip down his face, using his fingers to rub away months of neglect. In truth, Art had forgotten what he looked like. The mirrors in the shower block had long been smashed, and he had no desire to go outside without his mask, so he felt the contours of his face. His nose, nowhere near as pronounced, and cheekbones not as sallow. He recognised he was thin, as he moved his hands over his torso, he could feel his ribs under his calloused hands. Then, has he cupped his hands over his genitals to wash them, he remembered a flash of green eyes. Bright and dazzling in the night. The erection that he had fought so hard in the bar, reappeared and Art looked on impressed. Another thing he had forgotten about, the look of his cock as it jutted proudly, curving upwards slightly to better fill a pussy. Or an ass, he wasn’t fussy.

Experimentally, he stroked his length once. His head rolled back with a remembered pleasure. It all came back to him with that single stroke, how fucking good it felt. How fucking good it felt to be buried to the hilt in some sweet thing. How fucking good it felt to have someone’s lips wrapped around his end, gagging on his length. Art stroked himself again, this time letting his eyes flutter shut, this way he could imagine Daphne’s hand in place of his own. Imagine the kisses peppered down his back, and her other hand cupping and gently squeezing his balls. If he could moan, he would’ve and loudly. As soon as Art quickened his ministrations, he knew it would be over all too soon, so he stopped. He shut off the water and wrapped himself in a too small towel, trudging his way back to his room. There, he fished out the poster he had taken from the bar, a soft smile plagued his lips as he refreshed his memory of Daphne’s face. Climbing up onto his bed, or rather an old army cot he had found, he lay back, one hand on his cock- the other holding her picture up to the light. He gripped himself harder this time, like he used to like it. Art bared his teeth as he rubbed his finger over his tip, a surprising amount of liquid had emerged and he used it as a lubricant. Quickly, he moved onto his knees, he placed the poster of Daphne on the bed in front of him, and began fucking his hand. His hips moved quickly into his waiting fist, her eyes never leaving his as with a would be grunt, he ejaculated over his hand, spilling his cum over the poster. It dripped onto her face in big lumps. Years of his cock not being used, he deduced. He panted, exhausted. It was one thing swinging an axe around and another making yourself cum. Falling back onto the bed, he pulled the poster with him. Daphne’s smiling face now littered with his seed, inexplicably, he felt the flame of arousal burn deep in his core at the sight. He gently smeared it over her face, paying particular attention to her mouth, as if by some miracle he could shove it inside there. He longed to have her taste him, just as with that thought he longed to taste her. To have her wetness fill his mouth, cover his face and drip down his chin. He gently tapped his teeth, they were rotten, he knew that. But he wasn’t sure what Daphne would make of them, and in that moment he felt a pang of self consciousness. Resigning himself to sleep, he pulled his threadbare cover over his bare shoulders. He felt a contentedness he hadn’t felt since before he was, well, what he was. It felt different going to sleep that evening not full of rage, but with a lazy arousal that more than likely meant when he awoke, he could treat himself once more.

As he closed his eyes, he told himself that his plans for Sienna would have to wait. The rest of Art’s week would be spent in conserving energy for this next Thursday. He had a concert to catch.

[fictionalwh0ree]

the gang dating a stoner hcs

warnings: mentions weed and alcohol

a/n: as someone who's a lowkey stoner, i wrote this with the reader being someone who doesn't look like they'd be a stoner.

johnny cade

definitely doesn’t mind that you smoke

he’s maybe tried it once but never enough that he felt anything

one day he tries it with you

he immediately understands why you do it

johnny has a lot of issues and has a lot of baggage, smoking weed helps him calm down

you’re happy that it makes him happy

but that can also be dangerous

you worry about him getting hooked to the feeling, so you make sure he only ever does it with you

thankfully its illegal and since johnny is kind of skittish, he doesn’t go after it on his own

smoking with him is a mix of calm and paranoia

hes paranoid while you’re smoking

worrying about the smell, who’s around, your eyes, etc

but once its done, he’s calm

you spend many late nights just dozing off in each others arms after smoking

also many deep talks

overall, he’s grateful for you (and it) and he accepts your habits

dallas winston

he LOVES that you’re lowkey a stoner

there’s something about how you look when your eyes are all droopy and red that turns him onnnnn

(he also finds you being able to roll hot, idk why)

he definitely does it here and there

but he loves to smoke with you

on a rare night, you two will get crossed at bucks and will probably end up fucking

high sex is his favvvvv

he’ll take you to the drive-in after you smoke

those are probably the only times you’ll pay attention to a movie around him

he’s very rebellious so he doesn’t worry about you getting caught very often

he’ll even steal snacks for you

he lets you crash in his bed if you’re super slumped

you love cuddling with him if you’re high

something about the warmth and skin to skin just feels so much better

he definitely finds it funny when you’re high

he’ll laugh about you demolishing your food

he definitely laughs when you start sharing your high thoughts with him

and he finds it especially funny when you find something funny and can’t stop laughing

you’ve definitely been caught in some dumb ass situations where you look at each other and have to find a way to hold in the laughter

ponyboy curtis

definitely has never smoked

he knows its illegal, so he was definitely surprised to find out you do it

at first, you kept it separate from him

you know his brother would kill him if he tried

you didn’t smoke around him and were never really high around him

until one time you were headed home after a smoke session with your friends and you ran into him

he invited you to the drive- in with the gang

steve and dally could definitely tell

ponyboy could tell something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it

he bought you a popcorn and you couldn’t shut up about how much better it tasted

“has this popcorn always been this good?”

“it doesn’t taste any different than the last time we had it”

“are you sure?”

“are you okay”

dally definitely broke the news to him and it hit him quick

after that, pony started asking you questions about weed

“what does it feel like to be high?”

“does food actually taste better?”

“does it taste like a cigarette?”

you asked him if he wanted to try it one day so you waited until a day where his house was completely empty and smoked

after one hit, he was coughing like crazy

no amount of cigarettes could’ve prepared him for that

he couldn’t smoke very much because of the coughing but he got high and finally understood the food thing

tore apart any food available

he really loves to watch the sunset when he’s high

he thinks the colours and scenery are so much more detailed and pretty

he’s the type to turn into a poet when he’s high

but in the end the coughing was not worth it so he only does it very rarely (and only with you)

its a very special occasion when pony smokes, so you always make sure its a good experience and you do everything so darry will never find out

sodapop curtis

he’s definitely tried it before

he was not a fan

(he wasn’t inhaling it right so he never felt it and thought it was pointless)

he was very surprised when he found out you smoked

he always makes sure you’re careful with it

he takes extra care of you when you’re high

he makes sure you don’t have to talk to anyone

will take you to go get whatever you’re craving

he’s also a fan of the high eyes

he thinks its cute when you laugh at dumb things you wouldn’t usually find that funny

he’s very observant so he can definitely tell when you’re high and even if you’ve smoked at all

you taught him how to inhale

unfortunately he’s a bit of a paranoid high person so you don’t smoke with him

he always feels his senses heightened

this boy will hear a cop car coming from five blocks away and then panic as if you’re not sitting inside his house

however he is the type to EAT when he’s high

he’s like a bottomless pit

but hes also sodapop curtis so he’ll stay skinny anyway

darry curtis

darry definitely tried weed in high school

i mean he was on the football team

but he’s not a fan

too much risk not enough reward

so when it comes to dating a stoner

he’d probably rather not

but if he is

you just have to keep it separate

you don’t smoke around him and you’re never really high around him

he doesn’t mind the habit as long as you don’t let it affect your ambition

darry is a workaholic, he looks for a partner with drive

so as long as you smoking weed isn’t interfering with your job its fine

he would never date someone who is always high

he’s okay with it if its more of a couple days a week type thing

once you’ve been dating a while, he makes it clear that you can smoke and be high around him

because he’d rather you do it around him then alone or out on the streets

he thinks its cute when you’re high

he likes how you’re giggly

he’ll cook for you

and he likes how affectionate you get

he smoked with you ONCE

he, like sodapop, is the type to eat like there’s no tomorrow

after it was done, the entire gang unexpectedly showed up at his house

they could tell

darry’s eyes were practically bloodshot red

ponyboy took advantage of calm darry and got to stay out late

“get him high more often y/n”

they tried to keep their laughs to themselves but it didn’t work

two-bit especially could not contain himself around darry and couldn’t look at him without laughing

you definitely fucked after and the high sex was almost enough to get him to smoke again

but he could never EVER let the gang see him like that again

he only got high with you again after you learnt how to make edibles

two-bit matthews

two-bit loves that you smoked

funniest couple ever

you love smoking with and around him because he makes you laugh so hard

funny sober = super funny high

you two will laugh until you’re clutching your stomachs in pain

he’ll finish a whole chocolate cake high

two-bit is not a sit down and relax type of high person

there’s two potential reasons

a) he’s just like that

b) he’s always a little drunk so he just ends up slightly crossed

he’s super social and bounces off the walls

so sometimes you have to let him just go out with his friends

once he comes down from it all he’s super tired

you guys WILL take naps together

you’ll sleep from 11am-4pm

or you’ll go to bed at 2am and wake up at 1pm

it all depends but the two of you are heavy ass sleepers after smoking

the house could’ve blown up and neither of you would notice

steve randle

he has also tried smoking before, but never too much

he had basically forgotten it existed until you

he doesn’t like it when you smoke alone so if you’re not with friends, sometimes he’ll smoke with you

it actually helps him focus a lot

if he can work on a car high, he will

it becomes the only thing that matters

gets you dx discounts on snacks

he’s pretty quiet high so the two of you will often spend your time watching a move with his arm around your shoulder

he’s lowkey strict with it because he doesn’t want you to get caught

so he doesn’t let you smoke in very public places or in broad daylight unless you’re somewhere safe

doesn’t let you meet your dealer alone

he’s protective of you when you’re high because he thinks it makes you a bit more vulnerable

he’ll do all the talking

he doesn’t like people who spend their entire day high

he’s okay with it as long as you’re not a bum because of it

[notjustjavierpena]

Cravings

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A while back, I saw a text post made by the lovely @kteague and immediately, it sparked a need for more husband!javi. This is the text post in question. It’s sososo great. You should go follow ❤️ It also made me realize that I haven’t written Javier going down on his wife, and honestly wtf??? This takes place before Lucas is born.

Summary: Javi isn’t perfect. He needs a nicotine high badly, but your pregnancy isn’t allowing you to tolerate the smell of cigarettes. He indulges in his next favorite thing to satisfy his craving; going down on his pregnant wife.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), nicotine withdrawal, javier is a menace to the pussy eating society, pregnant sex, dirty talk, eat up javi

Word count: 1.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49812556

Cravings

Javier feels extra twitchy today. He paces around the house like a caged animal, tapping his fingers on the side of his thighs, and considers throwing caution to the wind and just having that damn smoke. He has a packet of cigarettes stashed in one of the potted plants outside, but it’s for emergencies only. Like that one time that his Pop had called him to say that a tree had fallen down on the barn overnight, and the very thought of the cost and time it would take to fix it had made him fly out the door to smoke in the far back of the garden.

He does it for you though. He’d do anything for you. Especially now that Lucas Peña is making his arrival in less than three months. He remembers you going into your second trimester, and you’d been around his cigarette smoke only to run to the toilet to reject your dinner. He never wants you to feel like that again, so he quit cold turkey. 

“Perhaps it won’t be a problem when we’re having the next one,” you had said to him, and he had stubbed out the cigarette immediately. He didn’t need the rush of nicotine, because he had the rush of you already thinking of more kids. He knew that he wanted a family with you since he saw you, but only then he had known just how big of a family.

But Javier needs the rush now. He has been through all of the coping mechanisms; sweets, rubber bands on his wrists, even has run out of nicotine gum but he doesn’t dare go to the store in case he comes home with more cigarettes. Has run out of patches too, which he would like to plaster his arms in right now.

You are not home and he needs you. He has a rare day off and you are not home. When are you coming home? He watches the clock, hears the ticking, and wants to rip it off the wall. You’re usually home by now. Where the fuck are you? 

Fuck it. Javier speedwalks to the door to the garden.  He is just about to rip it open, harsh enough to be tearing it off its hinges when he hears the front door. 

“Javi?” You call out his name so heavenly, “Can you help me with the groceries?” 

Oh, so that’s what you have been doing instead of coming straight home to him. He finds you by the front door, barely successful in holding two brown bags and your keys at the same time. Without hesitation, he takes both bags from you and heads to the kitchen to place them on the counter.

“You could’ve asked me to pick something up, y’know,” he says as he busies his hands by unloading everything into their respective places. His hands shake; he needs something to hold onto but you won’t let it be you if the milk hasn’t gone in the fridge yet.

“I was passing by anyway,” you enter the kitchen and start helping him, and he can feel your eyes watching him with curiosity at his urgency, “What’s up with you?”

“There’s something up because I’m helping you in the kitchen?” He quips.

You laugh quietly, “Well… yeah.”

Javier doesn’t know if it’s funny, but he knows that he needs an excuse to get you worked up so that he can satisfy his cravings in the way that works the very best.

He finishes unloading the groceries, turns to you, and doesn’t even hesitate despite you holding onto a box of cereal; he kisses you right then and there. It’s a long, deep, and satisfying kiss with his hands rubbing up and down your sides. You gasp into his mouth, melt against him, and awkwardly put the cereal box onto the kitchen counter so that you can embrace him right back. 

“Thank fucking God you’re home,” he mumbles into you, relishing in the taste and warmth of your tongue. He is insisting in the way he holds you close, and starts to guide you out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom at the end of the hall. 

“Javi,” you protest as you realize his motives. He doesn’t relent, and you reluctantly drag your lips away from his. He groans in frustration, but you find his eyes with flushed cheeks and he might just burst right then at the shy look you are giving him, “I can’t. I haven’t even… I need a shower.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” he opens the door, realizing that the window has been open all day to air out your shared bedroom. You shiver at the cold air and Javier feels like he might be seeing stars soon when he notices your nipples hardening underneath your top. He steers you to the bed by your hips, “Need it. Please don’t deny me, mi amor.”

“What’s gotten into you?” You groan after another kiss, one where Javier’s hand comes up to cup your breast as he devours your mouth. Then you let yourself be guided down onto the bed, legs hanging out over the edge and Javier kneeling down on the floor. 

“Ran outta nicotine gum,” he mutters, too busy undoing your last pair of jeans in a while; they’re straining against your growing belly but he knows how much you love this pair. He yanks them down over your hips after he has undone the zipper.

“Makes sense,” you lift your hips to help him. 

“So lemme have this?” He pleads. He notices the wet patch that has formed on your white cotton panties, refraining from chuckling to himself. You aren’t going to say no. 

“Yes,” your breath hitches in your throat as he finds your clit on the outside of your underwear. He rubs in lazy circles and watches the wet and shiny patch grow larger underneath his touch. He even dares to press his finger against your slit, digging the fabric just slightly into you. 

“Chica sucia,” he says softly as you let out a sigh of pleasure, “So filthy walking around with your pretty little panties so wet.”

“Hasn’t been like this long,” you argue, “Just since you kissed me. Still think I need a shower.”

Javier shakes his head, “Like you like this. Can’t stop thinking about this pussy.”

He slides your underwear down over your thighs, calves, and then ankles. He drops them onto the floor by your jeans, admiring your legs and the cute bows on the socks you are still wearing. You are so beautiful that he might lose his mind, growing belly right in front of him as he kisses his way up your right leg and hears your smile through your moan. 

“Javi,” you say when he loses himself in staring at your swollen cunt a little too long. He can see your clit jump in anticipation and it makes his mouth water, cigarettes long forgotten. 

He pulls you a little closer to the edge of the bed, large hands slipping under the backside of your thighs to bend and spread your legs simultaneously. He handles them roughly and places them flat on the surface of the bed, causing you to whine. Then his palms slide upward to rest on the swell of your belly, his broad shoulders holding your legs in position so you don’t clamp down on his head just yet. He isn’t in doubt that he’d be able to count your heartbeats with the way your cunt throbs. 

“Please,” you clench once, and slick drips from your slit. 

“Shh,” he coos. 

And then he goes down on you like he hasn’t in a long while. He credits himself with being enthusiastic about eating you out every time, but he rarely has the frustration of withdrawal from nicotine to accompany him in his hunger for your sweet taste. He runs his mouth over your whole cunt, kisses your jumping clit, and sucks the slick off where it has smeared across your folds. You taste better than ever, salty and slightly sweet in a way that a shower would have ruined. 

“Mhm,” he hums whilst satiating his cravings. Your breathy moans reward him more than he thinks a smoke could right now. His fingers start to dent your protruding belly, holding on tight as he flicks your clit with his tensed-up tongue over and over again. 

“Just like th— ah, fuck,” you reach for his wrists to desperately hold onto something. He goes harder, moaning into your pussy. It makes you shake on top of the sheets, gushing just a bit into his mouth and he swallows it down greedily. He wants more, dips down to slip his tongue into your cunt, and eats right from you. He fucks you open whilst nosing at your hard clit, the nub peeking out from underneath the hood to demand more attention. He will just have to suck it once and you’ll be screaming, but he needs a little more and reluctantly refrains from doing so. 

Your breathing has become more irregular by now, more high-pitched too. He knows you’re getting close but he keeps you dancing around the edge, tongue sliding through your folds as he bobs his head. 

“Fuck! Baby!” You cry loudly, bucking your hips to seek more friction. 

“Not yet, mi vida, just a moment more,” he mumbles against you, but his mouth still starts climbing up towards your clit again. 

You entwine your fingers with his, holding his hands tightly over your belly as your legs start to move involuntarily. Your feet flex, muscles rippling all the way to your thighs as you near climax.

“I’m… I-it’s gonna happen,” you whine at the ceiling, “Fuck, suck my clit. Javi— fuckfuckfuck.” 

He gives in, raises his head slightly to cover your clit with his mouth, and then he sucks hard. 

You come so hard that your legs find the strength to shoot up from where they are being held down on the bed. Your thighs clamp around Javier’s head, muffling the sound of your cries whilst he works you through every crashing wave of pleasure. 

“I’ll buy you that stupid gum,” you eventually say. 

“Huh?” Javier looks up at you.

“Your nicotine gum, I’ll go out and buy it later,” you clarify, letting go of Javier’s hands to throw your arms above your head on the bed. You stretch, letting out a soft moan, “It’s the least I can do.”

“You spoil me,” he crawls up onto the bed, lying down beside your exhausted body. You’re so perfect, he thinks to himself. 

“But first,” your breathing is finally getting under control again. You turn onto your side, and Javier finds himself supporting your pregnant belly as you move. You smile gently at him, reaching for his belt to unbuckle it with both hands, “I’m going to take care of you too. See… I too have cravings.”

Javier didn’t think that every passing second with someone could feel like his life had peaked. Yet here you were.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[konigsluvr]

SWEET 『cigarettes after sex』

MASTERLIST

popular girl x quiet nerd simon

warnings: kissing, horny and simp simon, cuming untouched. And sweetness ♡

cute little series I'm starting. I hope you like this as much as I do. Enjoy and leave any comments on where I can improve, but please be nice, I'm sensitive 💋 this isn't proofread as its currently just past midnight and I'm sleepy and don't want to overthink about posting this. xxx

『★』

Simon thought you didn't notice him staring at you all year. You're popular and he's... a nerd. The amount of picking on you would endure if you did anything with him... you didn't want to think about it.

Yet you couldn't help but smile at your Math teacher as he assigned Simon - the top of the class - to help you with your studies.

Here's the catch, you act dumb and stupid to fit in with your friend group when in reality, whenever there's a test, you never fail to achieve the A+.

"You won't be disappointed," you respond, heading out of class to see it empty.

None of your friends waited for you after class but you brush that aside, looking around for Simon. A minute later, you find him by his locker, taking all of his books and transferring them into his bag.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. "Hi Simon," your sweet voice rang out.

He jumps, dropping his bag, his books scattering on a pile at your feet. He stumbles over his words, eyes wondering over your gorgeous face. His mind was reeling at the fact you knew his name?!

"I... uhh..." he clears his throat, gathering himself. His crush, his godamn crush since forever, is talking to him. Him. "Everything okay?" His voice steadies out, playing it cool.

Your lips quirk, not realising his voice was so deep. You have to look up, yourself standing at 5'5 and him standing at 6'2. You're both 17, so there's still growing to occur.

"Yes, everything's good," you speak, unable to stop your gaze to trailing to his arms. Its so obvious he works hard at the gym. "Mr Barnes assigned you as my study partner."

His eyes widen slightly, taken aback. "Me and... you. Study partners?" He speaks slowly.

He sees your eyebrows furrow. Fuck sake, idiot, he curses in his mind, being an asshole isn't the way to go.

"Um, yeah, for Maths. My grades have dropped so..." You trail off. Does he not like you? You were so sure. He's always glancing at you.

His pause makes you reinforce the idea he's never liked you. "I'll get a new partner," you speak, beginning to step away.

He grabs your wrist, and your eyes snap to his. God, your eyes and politeness... is he still grabbing you? He is! Fuck! Think, think, think!

"Tomorrow after school?" He questions, way too nervous. He bets you can feel his hand shaking. "Your place?" Too bold, Simon.

But you smile, warm, lovely. "Sure, meet here after the last period?" Your unable to tear your gaze from his stunning chocolate eyes, so attentive and aware.

He finally let's go of your hand, relief filling him. He nods, feeling much too shy to speak.

You return the smile and walk by him. As you walk to the main doors, you turn and wave goodbye, and he is already looking at you. You see his lips form a small grin and wave back subtly.

『★』

"Today was so boring," you huff out to Simom as he sits in the passenger. He sits too still, scared to make the wrong move in case you would call off this whole thing.

You find it funny he didn't respond. So you ask a question as you turn out of the car park and drive to your house, which is fifteen minutes away. "How was your day?"

He takes a few moments to reply, "good," his deep voice speaks. You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't. The truth his, his day has been terrible but his mood is ecstatic (on the inside) about being with you.

Fifteen whole minutes, he had to sit there and pretend he didn't care. Staying silent like a complete douchbag. The smell of your perfume, your pretty outfit - a black jumper, faded blue jeans, Converse, pretty earrings, hair, and makeup. Just you simply being next to him made him hard, his mind running wild.

No, no, no, no. He needs to respect you. He's 17, not a little boy. He is a virgin after all, you definitely were not. The amount of stupid boys that took your attention will never deserve you in all the lifetimes. He's stronger, more respectful, just so, so much better for you. He noticed your smile was strained and he wanted to punch every asshole that made you like that. He covers his crotch with his hands, hoping you don't notice his hand placement.

He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts that you opening your car door and exiting snaps him out of it. He ushers out, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he takes in your families property. A simple, modern but classy home. Adorable. His gaze quickly returns to you, pausing as he sees your looking at him already.

"You work out?" You question, noticing he's wearing a black sleeved long sleeved gym shirt. He wore it just for you. It shows off his muscles perfectly.

"Six days a week," he speaks, trying to show off a little. Douche, again. But you smile and he smiles back.

"I do pilates sometimes," you reply, walking up to your front door. Pilates, Simon thinks of you doing the workout, so feminine and simple.

You both enter and you close the door behind you both. "Would you like a drink?" You ask innocently, looking up at him. You knew you were standing too close.

He swallows thickly, his gaze glancing down to your lips for a sweet second. He got even harder. For fuck sake, Simon. Answer the damned question! "Water would be nice, thanks."

You nod. "My room is upstairs, down the hall to the right," you speak, turning and walking to the kitchen.

He stands there silent for a few moments, watching your body sway. He shakes his head. Stop it now, he thinks. He walks up the stairs as he takes in everything about his small journey. At the end of the hallway, there's a picture of younger you.

He always knew you were an only child, makes sense how much you're put together with your parents attention focused on one child. He can't help but smile, seeing how cute you are. You must've been around 5 or 6 he's guessing, your eyes still the same sweetness.

He enters your room and sits on the edge of your bed, looking around once again. Clean, tidy, and... pink. Lots of light pink and white everywhere. Now he knows what your favourite colours are. Bingo.

He hears your soft footsteps coming up. He takes a quick breath, needing to calm his nerves desperately. Just your presence has him all giddy. You enter the room and close the door behind you.

"Here you are," you talk softly, handing him his water. You sit further up on your bed so you're in the middle of it. He thinks for a moment, copying you timidly. You face him. "I hope you like popcorn."

He nods, looking down, noticing you have a bowl of popcorn. Now he knows your favourite snack. Bingo, again!

You relax for a little while, scrolling on your phone as you chew on some popcorn while Simon takes sips of his drink here and there.

You come off your phone and hear your mother coming into your room. You have no time to prepare yourself or to even warn Simon, but he's already looking at her.

"Hi sweet girl!" Your mother exclaims happily, entering the room, hands on her hips. "How was school-" she cuts herself off, finally noticing Simon. She grins. "And who is this handsome boy?"

"Mom!" You scold, stepping off your bed, ready to usher her out, but she pulls you into a hug, kissing your cheek. You turn back at Simon, and he's gazing with a gentle expression, happy to see you and your mother's bond. "His name is Simon," you respond, pulling out of the hug.

Simon feels a slight blush form on his cheeks, shy once more. Your mom stops gazing at him too fondly for your liking and whispers in your ear, "he's a sweet one, I can tell."

You smile at her and glance back at Simon. "He's helping me with Math," you reveal.

Your mother's face brightens. "That's amazing, honey! Anyways, I'll leave you two to it, don't forget to lock the door-"

"Mom," you scold firmly this time. You love her dearly and you know she can tell that you like Simon.

She winks at you and leaves. You close the door and lock it. Simons muscles tense. You locked it? He doesn't want to think any further but he can see a blush on your face too.

『★』

Two hours. Two whole hours, Simon has spent one on one, simply inches away from each other. He easily covers his straining cock by having the popcorn bowl in front of it. He holds back jolts when you reach your hand for a snack.

You spent half the time looking at him and the other half wondering how his voice is so matured and dreamy. You did all the questions from your homework book and you played dumb on a few so he could lean in and explain it.

Simon grew comfortable in your presence. You are warm, soft and gentle. Everything he loves is you.

The thing he didn't expect at all was when you kissed him. You fucking kissed him. You and him! Kissing! He was explaining the most boring equation of all, leaning in more close, taking the pencil from your hand, your hands brushing together. He talks and continues talking when you catch gazes, noses nearly touching.

He wasn't sure whether Math turned you on? Or having someone tell you what to do? He was completely at loss, but once your lips touched his, the gates of heaven opened. You tasted of strawberries, sweet and addictive.

It was such a brief kiss, lasting a few seconds at most. His jaw goes slack afterwards. It was just a kiss, you don't want anything else. Maybe your thanking him for helping you? Both your hands stayed down at your lap, same with his. He's afraid if he touched you, he would never let go.

Should he confess? You've been staring dumbly at each other for about 30 seconds now.

"You're getting the hang of everything," he whispered smoothly. You sigh, feeling yourself growing wet. He was so good-looking and kind, too kind. He was huge, height and muscle wise, but his hands were so gentle.

In the moment, you place the popcorn on your beside table and climb on his lap. His eyes blow wide open as you take his face and lock your lips together once more. He moans into the kiss, making you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

He opens his legs, hands hesitantly holding onto your waist. Should he push you away or hold you closer? You deserved so much better than him. He's never kissed anyone before, and he's probably doing horrible. But he picks option two, he pulls you closer, fingertips pawing at your waist. He was right, warm, and soft.

You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, poking your tongue into his mouth, and he let's you, opening his lips, getting drunk off your taste. You sigh into the kiss. He's really good. You wonder how many girls he's been with, jealousy plaguing your mind.

You grind down on him, hips moving back and forth, needy to calm down your pulsing clit. He was rock solid. You swallow up his strangled moan, hips bucking up into yours like a pathetic mess.

Your hands move behind you, taking his hands and placing them on your asscheeks. He squeezes, becoming lost in everything you're doing. He wants to be in your mind, what are you thinking right now?

He pulls away and you look at him confused. His expression was pure pleasure. "Shit, no- fuck-" he groans, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.

"What's wrong?" You speak softly, stroking his hair. Due to you leaning more down, your clothed pussy was right against him. He felt his stomach tighten, pleasure rippling through his body. Don't cum, don't you fucking dare, Simon. If you speak once more with that honey voice of yours he's done for.

"Simon?" You whisper, hearing his breathing come out in quick pants. He whines into your shoulder, and you stare at your wall, completely confused. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you down onto him as he jerks his hips up a few times, riding out his pleasure.

"Are you..." you pause, thinking about the situation. You saw he was hard, it was obvious with the grey sweatpants he was wearing. But did he seriously just cum under a minute of kissing?

You wait until his breathing goes normal, his body relaxing. You try to get up off him, but he holds onto you tightly.

"I'm sorry," he speaks, the most embarrassed he's ever been. He's made you uncomfortable. He knows it. A disgusting pervert, that's what he is. He pulls his head from your neck, missing the smell of you. He looks up at you half-lidded.

Your hands stroke his cheeks. You grin. "Did you cum?" You speak gently.

He swallows, wanting to look away, blushing furiously. "...yes."

"Don't think you weren't so sneaky with the popcorn bowl," you respond, laughing as you watch his reaction to you catching him out.

He groans, resting his head against yours. He's dreading at the thought of letting you go. The prettiest, sweetest girl ever. So soft and warm, he thinks, sighing.

You laugh, making his head snap up at the sound. "Thank you."

He wants to throw himself off a cliff. He said that out loud. For the love of-

"I take care if my skin," you respond, cupping his face, "all over."

He feels himself grow hard again and that's when he can't be close to you anymore. Crossing boundaries is something he doesn't do, especially around you.

You yelp as he lifts you off him, not a muscle straining, carrying you like your as light as a feather. He places you on the bed and he stands up, covering the dark patch on the crotch of his sweatpants.

You giggle, covering your mouth. "I can give you a t-shirt of mine to cover up."

He nods. "Thanks."

You get up, grabbing a random t-shirt and handing it to him. You gaze up at him, tilting your head. He didn't understand how you were looking at him so happily, he was an asshole to you and was disrespectful-

"Would you like a ride?" You question.

He allows his eyes to admire you for a while before responding. "It's okay, my house is just five minutes away."

"It is?" You question, your smile widening.

He swallows. Damn you, you're teasing him. "See you tomorrow," he grumbles, walking to your door.

"Wait!" You exclaim, grabbing his book bag and handing it to him. You lean up, holding the back of his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

His right hand itches forward to hold you, but he stops himself. No, you've already taken enough from her. What have you given her? The fucking creeps.

He simply nods, keeping his feelings to himself and walks down the hall. It takes every cell in his body to not look back at your face. He can feel your gaze trailing on him.

"Thanks for letting me stay," he thanks your mother, giving her a nod. But she squeals, hugging him close.

"My little love likes you, I can tell," she speaks hushed, not wanting you to hear. Don't give him hope, don't. His mind still races, even your mom can see it, your gaze with more shine as you look at Simon.

He nods again, brain running a million miles an hour to even form a sentence. He walks away from the kitchen and leaves through the door. He closes it behind him and walks down the drive.

He waits until he's completely off the property before grinning and laughing, all while holding your t-shirt to his crotch. The street is quiet, not a soul around. He walks away, an extra leap in his step, happiness fulfilling him.

All in one day, you met up with him, you drove him to your house, you studied in your room, you kissed and he... he cringed hard, not wanting to think about it. You had him wrapped around your finger. He keeps smiling, though. Next Thursday, he'll be with you again.

『★』

EEEEK SO CUTE!!

Guys, Simon is NOT a perv!! I just wanted to include his conflicted thoughts because he loves her so much and doesn't want to make her uncomfortable 🤧. I'm not sure how many parts I'm hoping on doing, mayyyyybe 4... or 5... 😙. For you smut girlies, yes, there WILL be smut in upcoming parts and I hope my writing will be up to your expectations. Have a lovely day💗

Also!! Please note I am not trying to sexualise the characters at all, they will be turning 18 soon and it isn't a shock to anyone that they are doing these kinds of this at 17🤭

[messenger-of-babel]

Till Death Do Us Part

Summary: Chris is plagued by memories, nightmares, and the dream of you. (Chris Redfield x reader)

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: UNIT OF A MAN CHRIS REDFIELD. I love how he looks in Re8 (re7 Chris broke my heart and cut the brakes on my car fr). Veryyy minor language, I swore like once. It's funny I came here to be a resi blog and look at how the turn tables. Anyways, Chris stans rise up y'all are so nice~ xx

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Alone in the car, Chris was left with his thoughts a little longer than he would have liked.

Thumbing the lighter, he brings the flickering flame to his mouth, lighting the stick that hung from the press of his lips. With a deep inhale and slow close of his eyes, he lets the nicotine work its way around his system, blissfully whisking the worries from his mind. His muscles loosen under the layers of tactical and cold weather gear, finger relaxing on the gun trigger and letting the weapon rest in his lap. These were the moments that Chris Redfield let the memories catch up with him.

 His team was setting up in their operation in Miranda’s village, voices occasionally cutting in through his radio, but they didn’t need him right now. He could have a moment to himself among the chaos of it all, and deep down he knew his team gave him the space deliberately. For a moment, he stopped running for just a second and let his mistakes settle in.

Most of the time he thought of Piers.

He thought of the young man who came to him all those years ago and dragged him out of the pit he had dug himself into. The stern face of the young soldier who tore away the coffin lid of alcohol and blacking out in alleyways, pulling him back into the light. Who made him a captain again, who never gave up on him. The very same friend who pushed himself past the limits of being human to save Chris. To save the world.

When he was younger and more guilt ridden, he had played out the 'what if' scenarios like clockwork. What Piers would be doing now if he was alive, if Chris had been able to hand the mantle over to him like he intended. It had morphed into what Piers might have done if Chris had died instead, taken his place in the escape pod and been granted the chance to see the sun again. It was endless nights of lost sleep; the dreams being replaced with nightmares every time he thought of one of those situations. His sanity and his mind hung on by a thread in those moments, doing everything he could to not relapse into the place he was before Piers. He slipped more often than he'd like, but the seared face of Piers haunted the back of his eyelids like a ghost, and eventually, he always put the bottle back down.

The second person he thought of was Jill.

She was still alive, but not the same person she had been back in S.T.A.R.S. He couldn’t blame her though; he was hardly the same either. He was more rugged, more gruff, weather beaten and fucking tired. Despite the times she caught his gaze and bluntly told him to stop worrying, he never really could. She was like his lifeline back to the Chris of the past, where he cracked smiles more often than not and spent time making jokes at the captains expense. That kind of Chris who was young and full of cheek, brimming with the audacity of youth.

and with youth came naivety and innocence.

Joining the S.T.A.R.S team as ex-military he thought he had seen everything, which had given him the boisterous ego infamous among the RPD. The fact that he missed that naivety drew a copper taste to his mouth, forcing himself to swallow and take another drag of the cigarette. Back when Wesker was Captain Wesker, and Chris's loyalty was intact and oblivious to the sting of betrayal. When he still had Barry and Dewey and Dooley and Brad. Things were simpler, despite how often he liked to brag about what went on in his job. Yet at the end of the day, he was still passionate about serving and protecting the people he loved. He thought he was making a difference.

Jill never said outright that she was mad at him, she was his partner after all. Guilt had clawed way for a burning rage when he thought he had lost her, settling in his chest like a poison. Then she had come back, with a fire in her eyes that spoke to kill him. They had worked their differences out over the years, overcoming the scars of that ordeal together. The mansion, the canyon, the incident in Africa, all of those they had talked past with more than a bottle of whisky between them, and for like a small moment it was like it had never happened. They moved forward, together. stronger. He was more grateful for her company and support than he showed, and he knew that Jill would be uncomfortable if he brought it up.

Currently his mind was stuck on Ethan.

Ethan Winters, who he had lied to about the situation involving his family. He knew that Ethan deserved to know, deserved to know about Mia, his daughter Rose. Maybe his heart had gotten more and more calloused over the years, building slowly till he felt very little at all. It was so easy to make the calls, to think of the bigger picture all the time. For the greater good of the world, unable to see the pain he caused when he took away the only world that Ethan cared about.

And now Ethan was fighting tooth and nail to get it back.

Chris respected how the man had marched bravely into the face of death for the sake of his family, to get back his daughter. Even though Chris had warned him not to and Ethan caused an insurmountable amount of inconvenience in his wake; Chris respected him. He knew that Ethan would unlikely forgive him when he found everything out, would curse him for hurting who he had thought were his loved ones. Chris knew he had failed him already, so the sting of that thought had dulled each hour he spent in this cursed village. The village that Ethan Winters was currently burning down in the name of love.

Chris wanted to shake the man down, to tell him to stop fighting and to let him and his team handle it. That his emotions were getting the better of him, and he wasn't going to get anywhere with just willpower and a handgun. He wanted nothing more than to tell him he was being an idiot, and that Chris himself would never make such stupid decisions. Yet he couldn't make the words form in his mind, knowing he himself had been just like him once, willing to throw himself in the way of everything for one person.

You.

Chris had made many mistakes in his life, but you never were one. If anything, you were the one thing that was going right for him when everything seemed wrong. When he had come knocking on your door late at night, worn out from work, you always welcomed him in with a warm smile. No one knew about you two, and that's the way both of you preferred to keep it. You were a regular cop working with the RPD, letting you both trade glances with each other in the hallways and a few too many stolen kisses in the evidence room. He had a faint feeling that Jill suspected something, but if she knew she never said.

He loved how warm you were, how kind-hearted. Late nights lying in your bed talking about life, the past and the future. Leaning over his chest with sparkling eyes one night, you had told him why you had become an officer. Something with a wage big enough to pay for your two younger sister's tuition, so they wouldn't have to face the level of poverty you had. Something that could help others get off the streets, keep the kids safe and away from the drugs and addictions that plagued Raccoon's backstreets. With a soft smile on your lips, you told him of how you wanted to buy your mother a bigger house one day, with enough money sent home each week that she would never have to wonder if she could afford heat in winter again.

His breath was stolen at the genuine way you told him of your childhood, your upbringing and struggles. The way your eyes still glimmered with life after everything, that you were still able to see the good in things. The way that you used it to make yourself stronger. Although he had been in S.T.A.R.S, in that moment he wanted nothing but to have a fraction of the sheer strength you had.

Then had come the Arklay mission, which he left for so suddenly there was little room for more than a brief peck on the cheek and a reassurance that he would be back. That hadn't been enough to smooth the worry lines from your forehead, but you let him go anyways, fingers uncurling from the material of his uniform. He wished he had looked back just a little longer, held you just a little closer, not knowing that would be the last time he ever saw you.

Of course, everything in Arklay happened, the memory of that making him sigh and tap his fingers restlessly on the windowsill. Another drag of the cigarette brought his shoulders down from bunching near his ears. exhaling the plume slowly, he closed his eyes and let himself indulge in the thought of you. It was nearly your anniversary, a week off in fact. It was the only time he allowed himself to think of you, the only time he could let himself remember the curve of your smile and the glow of your eyes. If you had been allowed to be together, you would be celebrating your 24th anniversary this year. He wondered how many of those you might have been married for, if you would have had children or any on the way. Where you would have moved to, the house you would have wanted, the life you could have built.

But it hadn't worked like that.

He had left to chase Wesker, hoping he could end it quickly and come home to your arms, body tracing its way home like a beacon. He saw traits of himself in the way Ethan fought, fighting for his daughter and wife the same way Chris had fought for you. Instead, all he got was the news of Raccoon being destroyed, and taking his heart with it. His eyes had been locked onto the grainy TV of the European hotel room, shock making tears sting the back of his eyes. He had raced back, Wesker be damned. He could always chase him down again, but you? He didn't think he could survive another night restless like that again.

He had run home like the fear of God was under his feet, eventually finding Jill. It had been an accidental reunion, and he had been more than glad to see her alive. Someone was alive, which meant that there was hope. But when she regarded him with sad eyes and a slight hitch in her tone, he faltered. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt more fear than he did in that moment, vision blurring at the corners as she pulled something from her jacket pocket to give to him.

Maybe Valentine had pieced it together after all.

For all the horrors, monsters and battlefields Chris Redfield had seen, nothing had hurt him more than seeing your badge lying in the middle of her palm. He had demanded answers, not even caring if the tears burnt themselves to the forefront, but Jill refused. her lips were sealed tight, looking down and away from him.

"For your own good." She had said firmly, jaw set tight. "You don't…you don't want to know. They wouldn't have wanted you to know." She said softly, before quietly muttering her apologies. That had sealed the deal for him, heart beating out of time in his chest. All he could do was close his fingers around the cold piece of metal he scooped from her palm, blood stained and sharp.

Chris was no fool. he knew what had happened in Raccoon prior to it being bombed. The terror on the streets, the outbreak that spread like fire. he knew of cops and S.T.A.R.S members alike that turned, but he had always had a hope that you had gotten out. You were smart, so much smarter than him. But as Jill handed him your badge, he knew that no matter how hard he tried to fight it, you were gone.

Not knowing what happened to you exactly ate at him for years, plaguing his nights and soaking his sheets with sweat. It was the same dream, hand extending out towards him, pain written on your face. "Help me." you'd plead to him, over and over. He'd try his best, but he wouldn't be able to stop the way that your skin fell from your bones, melting off your muscles and running blood down your fingertips. He tried to hold you each time, trying to keep you together as you thrashed and screamed. His touch only seemed to make you decay further, skin rippling and warping under his fingertips. With a final ""Help me," you'd lunge for his neck without fail, jerking him upright with wide eyes and a rabbiting heart. He wasn't sure what was worse, wondering if you had turned and gone though the pain of becoming infected, or experienced the horror of watching a bomb come down on you instead of a rescue chopper.

It was too hard to imagine, so over the years he built his own story. It had started originally that you died doing something heroic, saving a family or some poor civilian. That was in your nature, always kind-hearted. It slowly morphed into you fighting for your life, bravely tracking down horde after horde to defend what survivors you could find before taking your last stand, being the hero he knew you to be. However, in his old age those stories lost their shine, and the comfort they brought turned into a grimace. Nothing could take away that you lost your life too young. So now he thought of a different one, a special one he only indulged in for this time of the year.

One where you were waiting at home for him as usual, radiant and beautiful as ever. He'd be able to come back home from this mission, taking his weary body up to your embrace and letting himself rest there as you welcomed him back. Hip popped as you leant against the front porch, wearing the same uniform he had left you in all those years ago. He could gaze into your bright eyes again, cover the smirk on your lips with his own when he kissed you, hand on your waist to remind himself that you were real. He'd take you out to some local restaurant you had both made your favourite, something he imagined you found together when you moved out of the city. In a quieter place like the countryside, just what you wanted. He'd take great pride ordering the meal you liked, something that he knew by heart. It was a dream where he got to see you all dressed up, smiling at him from across the flickering candlelight, reaching over to envelop his hand with yours. Then he would cast his eyes down and see the ring on your finger, filling his heart with warmth.

That was something that his nightmares couldn't even touch. The thought of you becoming a zombie, one of the infected and rotting away in his arms was banished the nights he let him indulge in the fantasy. A world where his leaving hadn't damned you, where his touch still meant promises for the future, not a death sentence.

For a full moment it would all feel warm and vivid and real, as if you had come down from your heavenly seat just to bless him for another moment. In that small corner of his heart, the rot couldn't touch you. You beamed up at him as radiant as the day he left you, a smile forever etched into his mind.

When he opened his eyes next you were gone, and he was back to sitting in the car preparing his assault on Miranda. There was a weak voice in the back of his head telling him that you were still waiting back home and all he had to do was finish this mission. He kept it alive, even through the crackle of the radio as his team patched in; already in position. He crushed out his cigarette, reloading his gun by muscle memory. As he exited the car he cast one look up at the bleak sky before patting the smooth, RPD police badge tucked into the lining of his vest, right over his heart.

"happy anniversary babe." he murmured softly, and he knew somewhere, someplace, you were smiling on the other end.

[hearts4kaulitz]

BILL HCS .

nsfw hcs will only be for afab readers

SFW ,

he loves to do your eyeliner. he will literally sit in your lap for hours just to give you the ‘perfect’ liner.

when he first met you, you like BLINDED him with your attractiveness like it felt like a blur when he was first round you just because your so cute.

he teaches you german phrases if you ask some might be dirty

smoke n drinking sessions together. sometimes you can guess what kind of cigarettes he’s smokes, same for alcohol

most of ur smoking and drinking sessions end it makeouts… or more

bill wakes up super early, if your not an early bird he loves to play with your hair or just watch you rest.

y’all probably have a shirt you both share, it probably says “whore working” on it or something like that…

he’s worn your bras before, he kept playing with the cup part like he was a toddler.

NSFW ,

he whimpers if he’s into it enough

absolutely LOVES to go down on you. he loves to grab your thighs while he eats you out

he’ll cut his nails one he has the feeling y’all r gonna do ‘it’ cause he doesn’t wanna hurt you

if you ask, he’d praise you but i dont think he’d have the heart to degrade you. he wouldn’t want you to think less of yourself.

PLEASE pull his hair, it encourages him like hell

cause his torso is so long you love to kiss down to it before sucking him off…

he would take notes of where your sensitive parts are so he could use them to make you get all riled up

he loves when his or your eyeliner gets messed up during it, it makes him feel proud for some reason

he’s not that vocal he really just groans alot but like i said he would whimper if hes really into it.

if you ever had those smoke or drinking sessions late at night it mostly likely turns into yall just fucking like animals until dawn..

its so funny when he takes his pants off in a rush and nearly trips cause their so tight.

absolutely LOVES when you put on his shirts afterwards.

[lunarmothim]

nevermore - simon riley x reader

part i: grief is a funny thing - in the wake of devastating loss, nothing looks the same.

word count: 1.2k tags/warnings: mention of major character death, brief description of gore, heavy angst, grief, suicidal thoughts, language. implied ghoap.

notes: and here it is! this labor of love (and many tears) has given me grief for the last two weeks. i decided to start off on this blog with a bang and make the boys suffer :) i have this thing plotted to the last chapter and i'm already preparing a preemptive apology. welcome to hell, population us, i hope you enjoy :)

141 SAFEHOUSE 23 NOV 2023, 10:00 HRS SOMEWHERE IN THE UK

Grief is a funny thing. 

With all the loss in his life, Simon would have thought he'd be used to it by now- the hollow ache in his chest, the empty spaces in his life no amount of alcohol can fill. Some days are easier than others, the pain reduced to a dull, manageable throb. Others it's like a knife between his ribs, pressure building with nowhere to go as the blood pools in his chest cavity. Either way it's familiar. He should be used to it.

But something about this one feels different, hurts more.

Maybe it's that this one is still fresh, the image of his fallen sergeant still burned into the backs of his eyelids like a macabre tattoo. 

Maybe it's that he'd been there for the end, had watched Johnny go down in a spray of blood and brain matter, had pressed trembling fingertips to his neck in search of a pulse he'd already known he wouldn't find. 

Or maybe it's that the infuriating Scot had gotten so deep under his skin that Simon couldn't dig him out if he tried, planting the tentative seed of something better, something kind, something he didn't deserve.

Whatever it is, it keeps him curled up in a too-small bed in a dingy safehouse as many kilometers away from London as he could get on half a tank of gas, staring blankly at the wall with a hangover that feels like a pleasant tickle compared to the agony that winds through every crack and crevice Johnny had carved into his armor, filling the spaces between his ribs until it's pressing against his lungs and he can't breathe under the weight of it.

He can't remember grief hurting this much. He doesn't know what to do with it, how to ease the pressure. 

Well. He knows one way. Cold steel taunting him from a bedside table drawer, always loaded. Always ready. 

Always tempting. 

He reaches for it now, one arm stretching out to slide open the drawer. He doesn't pick it up, just running his fingers over the barrel. It would be easy. Pick it up, feel its weight in his palm. A kiss of metal against his temple. A single squeeze of his finger. He considers it. Has been considering it for the last two days, since he'd stood outside the service entrance to the channel tunnel and watched the bodybag zip closed.

Two days. It feels like no time at all has passed. It feels like it's been decades. 

Some pieces of Johnny are already fading. Simon can't remember their last interaction, the last thing they said to each other. If he'd smiled, what he smelled like beneath the haze of cigarette smoke that clung to him after tailing the hacker. They'd shared a fist bump in the back of a military vehicle as they approached the tunnel, maybe, a silent see you on the other side that had become ritual over the years. Something instinctual, gravitational, a minute offering of something steady before everything went to shit as it often did.

Fuck. His hand retreats from the gun and slams the drawer shut before scrubbing down his face, the rough fabric of his balaclava scratching at his skin. He remembers a different hand, much gentler, following the same path in the opposite direction to yank it off his head. He drops his hand like he's been burned.

He's so wrapped up in the mess in his head that he almost misses the faint footsteps outside.

The sharp snap of a twig is what cuts through the white noise like static in his ears. It's like a switch flips in him at the sound- in the split second between breaths Simon becomes Ghost, the gun in his hand a familiar weight as he snatches it from the drawer. He rolls off the bed, hitting the floor just as the door is blasted clean off its hinges.

Assess the situation. Heavy footsteps. Boots, multiple. At least six, spreading out around the room. The familiar sound of a grip adjusting on a rifle.

"Know you're there, Ghost." That voice. That fucking voice, that lazy southern drawl that drags him back to that night in Las Almas, Johnny bleeding on the ground- "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"The fuck are you doing here, Graves?" His own voice is rougher than usual, hoarse and scratchy, throat still raw from yelling orders in the chunnel. From yelling for Johnny. Focus. He doesn't rise from the floor just yet, straining his ears. No movement, just the sound of tense breathing. 

"Got orders to bring you in," Graves answers like it's the simplest thing in the world, and Ghost's eyes narrow. "Alive, they said, but you know how accidents happen."

"Who's orders?"

"Army, CIA, Interpol. Take your pick." The finality in Graves' tone says he isn't interested in answering anymore questions. A shame, really, because Ghost has a lot of them and he'd love to beat the answers out of the smarmy asshole. "Now drop your weapon and come out with your hands up. I won't ask again."

Ghost thinks about it for far too long of a second- putting up a fight he likely won't win. Sure, he's brought a knife to a gunfight against Graves and his Shadows before, he'd stand even more of a chance with a pistol, but his mind is stuck on who'd given the orders. Army, CIA, Interpol. He hasn't done anything illegal- lately- that he remembers, certainly nothing that would put him on Interpol's radar, so he makes a choice.

A shit choice, but if the CIA's involved he's sure Laswell is too. Maybe if he cooperates he can get some answers.

Mind made up, Ghost tosses the gun up onto the mattress. It's not the response Graves wants judging by the way he tuts, but he holds out his hand in a stand down motion to his Shadows anyway when Ghost slowly rises to his feet, fingers splayed wide and hands out to his sides to show them empty. You know how accidents happen. There's no doubt in Ghost's mind Graves would shoot him if he so much as twitched in a way he didn't like.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it? Let's go." Graves taunts, nodding to the Shadow closest to Ghost's side of the room. He doesn't fight it when the soldier zip cuffs him with trembling hands, though he could easily take the kid out before any of the others could react and both he and Graves know it- it's why Graves hadn't come over here to do it himself, keeping what he thinks is a safe distance.

It's not. No distance from Ghost is safe enough for Graves, not when he's part of the reason Johnny's dead.

Makarov may have pulled the trigger, but Graves and Shepherd's egos had made it possible.

Five minutes to confirm a kill, and maybe Johnny would still be here.

He stamps out the spark of pain igniting again along the edges of his frayed psyche, shrugging off the hand guiding him to the door. Despite the zip cuffs that speak to the contrary he walks out of his own volition, ducking his head to slide into the backseat of the SUV on the curb when the door's yanked open for him. He doesn't bother to hide his distaste when Graves slides in next to him, keeping his gun trained on him like he's expecting Ghost to do something stupid.

He won't... for now. Not until he knows what's going on. 

Laswell better have a good fucking explanation for this.

part one - masterlist - part two

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :) dividers by: @/gildui

[arivsxq]

Pairing: Jungkook X reader

Theme: angst, friends to lovers to enemies

Warning: +18, mention of drugs, smut, angst, JK is kinda an asshole

Song: Friends-Chase Atlantic

Word count: 1k+

A/N: hey, I was bored last night so I thought “why not write a little one shot?”. Hope u like it and sorry english is my second language so I tend to make some mistakes. Have a great dayyy

One thing I learned in the past few months is to always keep your promises. I didn't do that which led to, me lying to every single person I love only to be with the man that I loved. Can you even call it love? I think so. At least from my perspective, but from his? Did he love me or did he love the rush of excitement that came with the forbidden romance between us? I don't know and I probably won't ever know but what I know is that we both screwed up. The promise we made many years ago had its purpose and we ignored it because we were blinded by the mind-blowing sex we had when none of our friends were around.

Now we're sitting here, pretending like the past months never happened, keeping up this facade for our friends in the hope that they will never find out. The smell of weed lingers in the air, taking me back to the night before everything went down. "You want sum' "J.T. holds a package of cigarettes in his hand. I stretch my arm slightly to take one and light it up before I blow out the smoke into the cold night air. "I thought you wanted to quit" His raspy voice reaches my ears, making me stop my movements for a second. "I've changed my mind" I try to make my voice sound as normal as possible but even an idiot could see that something was off.

We were very close, even before our 'little romance' but now I couldn't even look into his eyes. "You guys are fine?" Cora asks. "Yeah, why wouldn't we?" and another lie. "You two seem off. I just thought you fought or something" She's right, we fought but that's the consequence of fucking your best friend behind closed doors. They drop the topic fortunately and out of one cigarette becomes a joint. Our five friends talk and laugh but the only quiet ones are me and him.

"I should head home now. It's past midnight and I have practice tomorrow" I get up from the bench and take my bag. "How do you get home?" Dane asks, reminding me that he had quite a few drinks by now. "Walkin' " I feel his gaze on my body and before I can think any further he stands up and says "I'll drive you". I want to say something. I want to say no, I really want to but I can't because our friends are listening. I wave them goodbye and start heading into the dark with him behind me like a guardian angel.

"I can walk" my voice echoes through the darkness, making him let out a laugh. "What's so funny?" "When will you stop lying, y/n?" I stop in my tracks and turn around to face him. "You are scared of the dark. You hate walking around at this hour"

"Things change" my answer makes him laugh again. "I still wonder how the others never found out because baby you are a terrible liar". My eyes widened at his statement but also because of the pet name he always called me when no one was around.

"I'm not a liar" another lie. "You are. You never have practice on Sundays". Fuck this son of a bitch. How does he remember every detail about me and makes me feel things I shouldn't? "I'm not the only liar here" my arms crossed in front of my chest, trying to make myself feel less exposed. "You're right but the difference is that I don't deny it" I want to rip this damn smirk off of his face, that he always makes when he knows he's right. He gets on his bike and puts his helmet on while I stand there dumbfounded. "Get on top" he throws the other helmet and I catch it. My eyes roll before putting it on and hopping behind him onto the bike. He puts on the engine after making sure my hands are secured around his waist that I knew so well and before I could feel my heart beating faster, we drove off into the night.

***

I should've known better when he said he wanted to follow me upstairs and make sure I would get home safely. But I was too dumb to think twice or maybe I hoped that this would happen. That's the reason why he's pounding inside me, right? Making me cry out the noises that he loved so much while my acrylic nails bury into his skin. I feel his muscles flex under my touch. "Fuck" he curses when my walls clench around him. His heavy breaths tickle the side of my neck while his tattooed hand goes down to stoke my waist. Soft moans escape my mouth and I feel his lips again.

My legs feel numb, the kiss deepens and I feel him hitting the spot that makes me want to scream out his name. It's like he can read my mind. Fuck you Jeon. "Do it baby. Say my name" he grunts beside my ear. I whine at the pleasure that starts building up inside me and as much I hate him, I still can't get enough of him. "Say my name baby. Tell me who makes you feel good"

"Fuck you, Jungkook" is the only thing I get out before the knot in my stomach explodes and my orgasm rolls all over my body.

He moans at the feeling of my walls tightening around him and increases his speed, pounding faster into my dripping core. "I missed you" did he? "Fuck I missed you so much" my heart clenches and I feel what I did when he whispered sweet nothings when he had me in his arms. And that's the moment I start thinking that maybe he has changed. Maybe we can try to be something again but this time stop lying about it. Dumb little girl. Because the next day I wake up he's gone...again.

[lanaxoxoxoxoxox]

guitar strings, darlin'

musician!bur x afab reader

warnings: none, just a silly lil blurb with some silly lil fluff

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wilbur and I were in a weird stage of friendship. We hang out almost every day (every other day at the very least), but if we separate for whatever reason, when we finally meet again, its as if nothing came between us. Many people, including the other members of Lovejoy, say that we're lucky to have that. Though, I don't think much of it. That's just Wilbur and I.

Wilbur and I first met at one of their first live gigs. They were playing at my local bar, so I decided to help out a local band near me. My thoughts then were, "Not like it's gonna hurt me! Nothing will come out of it for me anyways." And those thoughts? 100% wrong. Turns out, Wilbur has seen me play at the gigs I play, and happened to notice me in the audience at their gig. They asked me if I wanted to join, and I was starstruck. I was starstruck by not only getting asked to be part of Lovejoy, but by Wilbur. I mean, what can I say. He's practically an angel. He's sweet to everyone he meets, even if they're a total prick. He's funny, and god, he's pretty. Like, top tier level pretty. His eyes remind me of old brick libraries and the smell of burnt out cigarettes.

Obviously, I accepted the offer. And that's where I was brought to at this current moment. Sitting alone in the recording room with Wilbur, recording and trying out different stupid lyric ideas, with the light of an old lamp in the corner besides a burning candle.

"We need a good adjective to describe what the singer is feeling that still goes along with the rhythm of 'One Day'." I stated. Wilbur nodded his head in agreement, playing with the strings on his guitar.

Will's head looked back at me. "What if we make the chord using these notes?" I looked at his fingers, observing the notes he was demonstrating. I looked back at the guitar in my hands, struggling to find the right positions that he was in.

"How do you manage to put your fingers in that position?" I laughed. Wilbur laughed back at me, placing his guitar to lean on the desk besides us. He leaned over to me, and grabbed my hands and adjusted my fingers to the right strings. I looked up at him as he did so, getting lost from admiring the small features on his face.

I didn't even notice when Will was done with my hands until he made eye contact with me. I quickly looked away and fixed my hair. Wilbur chuckled, and lifted my chin up. He looked at the moon necklace displayed on my collarbone.

"That's a pretty necklace you got there." he said, playing with the metal. I blushed in response. He seemed to notice, but sighed, and sat back down. He then pulled his chair closer to mine.

"Can I tell you something, Y/n?" he asked. I nodded.

"I think I'm in fucking love with you."

My eyes widened at his words. Those were the words I have been waiting to hear for months at a time, and they finally came.

"I think I'm in love with you too, Wilbur." I smiled.

Wilbur looked at me and pulled my chin up slightly. "Can I kiss you?"

Instead of responding, I closed the space between us first. I could feel Wilbur smiling into the kiss. His lips were soft and slightly parted. Wilbur was the first one to pull away and he laughed. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that."

I giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, giving him one more peck on the lips and sliding my face into the crook of his neck, giving him a hug.

"LET'S FUCKING GO! I knew it was gonna happen! Ash owes me £50 now!" Mark yelled outside the door.

Wilbur scoffed at Mark and Joe standing outside the door. "Oh fuck off!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

ahhh i love this fic so much 😭

likes reblogs and any sort of feedback is very appreciated

love ya!! <3

[cum-a-calla]

jesus christ metalhead rory got me feelin' all kinds of ways you just KNOW he reeks of pot and eats pussy like its his job

he sure fucking does, anon. he loves anything that makes you give him that fuck-dumb, brainless, open-mouthed look on your face. he loves it when you come into the metal bar/venue he works at, likes watching you laugh with your friends and likes to make fun of you for ordering your little drinks, he likes the way you visibly fluster when you try to sneak peeks at him across the room just to realize he’s already looking at you, a little smirk on his mouth while he works the tap and wipes the bar down, while he walks plates of bar grub to other patrons between taking orders. he likes watching you walk away when you leave, and isn’t it funny how he’s always on a cigarette break the moment you and your friends start gathering your things to leave? isn’t that funny

((song recs for thrust focus:

“total fucking bliss” - world peace

“patricide - world peace

“pound for pound” - wound man

“man slaughter” - wound man

“he-man” - wound man

“inhuman joy” - regional justice center

“bastard land” - scalp))

he eventually likes guessing what you’re going to order, making drinks a little too strong just to see you sputter and make that cute little face when you take a sip. he likes to make fun of you - aw, come on, girly. too much? c’mon, you can take it, i know you can. do it for me, lemme see you take it. and he doesn’t talk a lot, does he? but when he has extended exchanges with you, it’s always just to the line of innuendo, his words filtered through the look on his face. you know the one - heavy, lidded bedroom eyes, teeth showing through his smirk. just a touch too much eye contact. a little too intimate… but it’s not unwelcome, is it, anon. reading about the electricity between people is fluffy and cliche, but wouldn’t you guess - every time your fingers collide when you hand him your ID, your card to pay, a tip, whatever - any time your fingers touch, it makes your cunt throb. that’s all it takes. and he can see the way you focus on it, the way you are physically unable to look away from his hands - slim, thick-knuckled fingers, veins climbing up into his forearms. and what do you know, those forearms are connected to those biceps, and it’s fucking over. by the time you remember to breathe and look at his face, he’s already watched you eyeballing him. and he loves it. the man doesn’t mince words, he’s so quiet and standoffish, but the little twitches and tics in his expression are undeniable. he fucking loves it. he loves watching you watching him.

but you know what he likes most?

he likes when you come later at night to a show. lots of local thrash bands, metal bands, powerviolence, grindcore. lots of gnashing guitars, lots of screaming and grunting and guttural, cathartic, barely comprehensible words. sweaty, lurching people in the crowd, so many vests and patches and studs. and he waits to meet your eye and watches you as he walks out of the venue, down the steps, knowing you’ll follow him. just a cigarette break. just a little fresh air in the dark.

and who are you to question him when he goes into the alleyway?

and who are you to say anything when he likes to push you up against the wall and crush his lips against yours, against your throat, biting, moaning, and it’s impossible to miss the way he grinds his cock against your hip, hard in his dirty black cutoffs, worn thin and old and full of holes, rips, old faded patches that are long since unable to decipher, the ink all rubbed and washed away through time. and still able to hear the music throbbing in the building, how can you resist the way he kneels down and yanks your skirt up, yanks your shorts down, whatever, just so he can push his face between your legs and eat you right there in the night air? buzzed, heady, hot and desperate. licking your cunt like he’s never had the pleasure before, like he might die in the next hour. sloppy, drooling, pushing his fingers roughly inside of you and licking, kissing, sucking until you’re yanking his hair and covering your own mouth so you can cum just a little quieter, just so you don’t attract too much attention - people occasionally pass by the mouth of the alleyway and they either actively ignore or barely notice. such is life in a big city downtown. who cares? who cares who sees this rabid man with his nose pushing into the soft mound above your pussy, his tongue busy attending every inch of the wet pink flesh inside?

who cares if he occasionally yanks your hips back and the clink of him undoing his belt seems to reverberate above the growling inside the venue? bass and guitar throbbing, the pulse-quick pounding of a band inside, slower than your heartbeat and harder, tantalizing, absolutely animalistic. his hips when he finally plunges his cock into you and pushes your face lovingly against the rough wall, grit on your face. he knows all the bands, he knows the songs. his hips know when to thrust, when to speed up and slow down, and he uses it to his advantage, he bottoms out and fucks you hard enough that you have to keep yourself from screaming. one hand in your hair, one hand digging into your hip, and then both hands, fingers digging into you, his impatient grunts and moans and panting. needing you. owning you. purposely fucking you in half so that even tomorrow you’ll be sore, you’ll remember him through the little pretty bruises his fingertips dig into the soft soft meat of your thighs, your hips, sometimes your tits. the bruises he sucks and bites into your throat and shoulders.

the way you can be away from him for a week, two weeks, longer. but every time you enter the bar, his face lights up just a little bit, his little secret smile, the way he rakes a hand through his hair. the way he leans over the bar and his unwavering gaze. the way he says, “well, hi there, girly.” and guesses your drink, as if he can’t see the leftover bruises on the side of your neck from last time.

[saltymothball]

my unpopular takes on beetlejuice beetlejuice SPOILERS!! (long post)

(i am a fan of the original pls do not come for me) these are just my thoughts on the sequel :D please feel free to add yours too

context! im writing these notes as i watch so theyre a little disorganized

for reference i also rewatched the original immediately prior to the sequel

not opening with the classic beetlejuice muisic ?? even the stage show opens with that music where is it (EDIT- restarted it and it actually does open w the music, but it is much less fun/campy an and more of a spooky remix so i forgot)

its not plot necessary but i do wish we learned how BJ fixed his shrunken head and death by sandworm

where are the maitlands ???? 0 mention of adam and barbra at the beginning ?

BJ's ex wife intro was a very creative concept but i wish they did it with more sfx props and less cgi/green screen

Astrid is like very boring, theyve done nothing to get the audience (me) invested in her?? disney wish vibes like who is she

call it a headcanon i feel like lydia wouldnt be this fucking awkward of a parent ?? she had good role models ie adam and barbra (even if her own parents werent as active, by the end of the original movie it implied they were now living in a healthy family dynamic

the mother daughter drama feels really forced, reminds me of the out-of-place tension between wednesday and morticia in the 2023 show

all angles are super close up and feel like horror angles. the scene where astrid befriends that boy ?? felt like someone was gonna come up and kill them the ENTIRE interaction (edit i guess that makes sense but it nerfed the scene)

IMMEDIATELY knew his parents are dead btw. not showing their faces is so clearly they are dead. not an ounce of mystery. theory the boy might be a ghost too?

theory astrids dad isnt dead bc Lydia cant see him

the witching hour wrong ?? last i knew it was 3am not 12am. weird thing to get wrong

its like not a silly campy vibe ?? its like uncomfortable.

dont like lydias new man hes pushy and gross

i miss adam and barbra

it doesnt make sense that no one taking lydia seriously ? delia knows she can see ghosts and has also experienced beetlejuice

lydias fiance is a horrid excuse for a partner (how tf did she meet him like did he just walk in bc the plot needed another person to hate lydia

not the dead protester joke :(

the spill-your-guts/pregnancy felt really idk,,, icky??? dont know how to explain it but it uncomfortably long

follow up- a lot of the visual ghost gags felt very gross/gorey ? like in the original movie the gags were inbetween silly/sexual/spooky-but this one feels more like blood and guts instead of spiders and snakes. exhibit A) otho casually shoving corpse barbra out of the way when looking at the closet with delia / exhibit b) the guy with the cigarettes at the end of the original

theory that astrid is going to end up seeing ghosts by the end of the movie

love the "eeee!" noise BJ makes when people say his name

ok BJ with the guitar after lydia tells him off was legitimately funny

i know astrid is an angsty teen but my god she is so hostile towards lydia

calling it at 56mins the boys parents are SO dead bc they deliberately didnt have lydia meet them

listen i have nothing against jenna ortega but it feels like she is type-casted to play exactly one character now, like let the girl play something other than a monotone gothy teen

"they found a loophole and moved on" okay whatever that means

astrids awkwardness w this ghost boy is pretty cute. he is so definitely a ghost though

yup called it hes a ghost

"my mom was telling the truth... shit" lmao

this boy feels very sus bc why are you trying to bribe her w her father

still no info on how lydia and rory met ??

MURDER HOUSE ?? TH BOY IS A MURDERER ??? okay thats a good twist ill give them that

astrid going into the afterlife to see her dad feels very "lydia going to the afterlife to see her mom" plot from the stage show ?

astrid honey you have too much faith in this ghost boy

oh my fucking god delia did you really get poisonous snakes....so on brand for her

Beetlegeuse literally carrying the whole movie

every scene he's in is absolutely giving

william dafoe is pretty good too but adding him just feels like he is william dafoe and not the character hes playing (who is also an actor)

delia correcting herself from saying fuck is really funny like girl was that scripted

okay ok astrd seeing her dad working in immigration was pretty neat

i had actually forgotten abt BJs ex wife until now ? doesnt seem like she actually adds much to the story beyond giving BJ a new reason to pursue lydia... which he was already doing...?

are they all going to end up in the afterlfe wtf

the afterlife desert takes place on the fucking moon of saturn ?? okay

is it just me or is the sandworm not claymation... like maybe its just the way it looks but i swear it looks like they cgi'd it but then cut down the frame rate

damn lydias husband really got eaten by piranhas.. what a way to die oh my god

there was no real stakes to astrid switching her soul? they resolved that so fast like lydia just grabbed her and they ran

oh their husband/dad is back now everything is fixed...? like all that hate towards her mom is now gone bc her mom was telling the truth about seeing ghosts? dad just resolved the only conflict

beetlejuice didnt even help get astrid back he went on a pee break and the plot progressed

love bad cop william defoe

"are you filled with fear and trembling?" "yes im shitting my pants" absolutely gold

BJ on fetchquests this whole movie fr

the soul sucking lady please she ate bobs nametag :(

ok wtf they really solved ghost boy dilemma in 5 seconds, BJ ex machina... like he rlly just got him like that ??? anticlimactic

ok good astrid apologized for being a shitty kid

rory please stop kissing lydias neck

i kind of hate the modern nods like the self securing seatbelt in the priests car, or the influencers at the wedding, really weird unnecessary detail

BJ and Delia wedding crashers my fav

how did Beetlejuice get into the church ? if he is a demon like previously established, shouldnt he NOT be able to step on holy ground

enjoyed the slapstick moment of lydia punching rory, good moment

her red dress omg !! pretty

BJ himself is just too funny, making the priest sing top tier

i still miss adam and barbra :( if they can cgi that dead guy in star wars i think we couldve brought alec baldwin and geena davis who are in fact still very alive and look great

they really didnt make me interested in BJs ex wife other than she is pretty and looks like morticia addams ?

BJ making everybody partake in singing is very silly

everybody dancing at the wedding scene must have been fun to film, everybody looks like theyre jamming

lmao whos dog was that in the hallucinations ?? is that the dog who killed the maitlands

"ghoul squad" ok monster high

oh finally his ex is here

lydia so casually pushed out of the way lmao

why does BJ have more etherial powers than every other ghost?

offering rory to the soul sucking lady is so good

theyre really just gonna sandworm for the plot resolution again ???

his ex wife was a threat for all of 4 seconds

lol the legal marriage loophole was kinda funny

is delia like forever dead ? is she a ghost now? is beetlejuice dead?

i still love delia. "i will find charles and we will haunt you both" good for her

are the influencer wedding guests dead

everything got wrapped up very quickly

good on delia for still loving her husband even though that shark absolutely annihilated him

what ?? astrid is married now???

WHAT ??? SHES GIVING BIRTH ?????

oh ok its a dream

having a second pregnancy bit felt really weird

they alluded to another sequel :(

please remember i am actually a huge fan of beetlejuice !! no hate to the franchise these are just my personal opinions on the sequel. i would love to hear your thoughts as well !!

[thecapricunt1616]

Blue Lotus - SxC Fic - Chapter 3

♡ Summary: Carmy actually has allowed himself FRIENDS?? Also- he gets to have like.. a normal day with Syd somewhat, outside of work, hanging out with people who aren't in any way involved w/ the restaurant.

♡ W/C: 6,919

♡ Posted Date: 04/08/2024

♡ A/N: Hayo ;D Here is C3 of Blue Lotus!!! I am v much like Carmy & got a alot of amusement AND enjoyment writing this chapter, so that makes my brain tell me I took it too OOC & I haaate writing these 2 OOC. So if its OOC I'm sorry, but at least it's funny LOL. The story Shayna tells is lightly based on Euphoria But the college version - so if you've seen it that's why it feels a little familiar - if you haven't seen it its a same vibe except high school so the father is much, much more disgusting. But I looove writing Shayna so much, I have friends like her & they are always the personalities to make you laugh until youre sore the next day - & Syd & Carmy deserves a friend like that so I gave them one! Without further ado, I hope you enjoy <3 As per usual this fic is inspired by Tucson that can be read here It was written by my lovely friend @gingergofastboatsmojito please be sure to read that one before you read Blue Lotus, also do give Ginger a follow!!!

♡ Warnings for BTC: Talks of ; a near physical assault, blood, sex, transphobia/outing, self inflicted wounds, actually contains; smoking cigarettes/weed, drinking alcohol, vomiting, swearing

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

“Hey! Im Sydney- sure! We were uh…we were gonna cook- do you wanna join? I just got back from the store” she got up, shaking her hand. 

“Totally -  my god this necklace! Where did you get it?” Shayna asked, leaning in and looking at the pendant “and you smell so good, lavender?” She said. 

“I thrifted it! I love thrifting. Carm does too- does it so much he has to keep extra jeans in his oven.. oh! And yeah this perfume it’s inside. I’ll show it to you” Syd replied happily. 

“Your oven?” Jesse asked Carm 

“Yeah uh.. not enough space- um Syd these are my…” he trails off 

“Friends. Were his friends- therapy friends I guess. I mean I hope he holds his word and texts me when we get out of here” Shayna nudged Carm’s shoulder gently. 

He cleared his throat “yeah- uh-my friends. Shayna and Jesse.” He said shyly. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you guys, have you ever had deer? They sell it at the grocery store here, harder to get in Chicago. I figured we’d try this recipe I thought up a while ago” she opened the door to the cabin and Jesse and Shana went inside making themselves at home right away. 

This wasn’t the first time they’d hung out, they would do this a few times a week before dinner and then sit and eat together before going back to their respective cabins for the night. 

“Never had deer before - aren’t you guys like super chefs or-“ Jesse is interrupted by Shayna’s whining 

“Carmen you still haven’t asked for a wifi box?!” She asked annoyed, putting her phone back in the pocket of her cargo jeans.  

“No I haven’t because I don’t need one I’m not addicted to Instagram or whatever the fuck” Carmy said, taking the door for Syd and she headed in, him following suit. 

“Oh yeah I forgot Carmy the little old man who likes to hide away from the online world- you look like you take fire Instagram pictures, how do you deal with that loser all the time?” She asked Syd jokingly, leaning against the counter and watching as she pulled various ingredients from the fridge. 

Syd laughed a bit, a big smile on her face as she moved around looking through various cabinets. “I do…um- Chef-“ she said and he sat up from where he was leaning against the kitchen doorframe 

“Where do you need me?” He asked her 

“Onions medium dice if you can manage the knives here suck” she took out one of the small knives they kept for him in the drawer and set it on the cutting board as she began to pick the rosemary, putting the sprigs in a bowl. 

“What the fuck is that” Shayna picked up a mortar with a deep black goop at the bottom. 

“Juniper berries…found a juniper tree when I was hanging outside. Made sure it’s the right kind so don’t be worried” Syd said and Carmen couldn’t help the small smile that curled his lips. 

“You found a juniper, and you just.. remembered this recipe?” Carmen asked, chopping the onions as skillfully as if he hadn’t been out of the kitchen a single day. 

“Thats hot” Shayna says “you’re hot as hell bitch! Oh my god! You just saw a tree and were like ‘let me make up this super cute berry deer coquette dish’ ” she said, causing Syd, her, and Jesse to crack up, but Carmen was lost. 

“The fuck is a coquette?” He asked, causing Syd to laugh harder when Shayna said between giggles 

“I told you! He’s so old!!!” She squeaked, leaning against the counter and wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. 

“Coquette is like… Marina and the Diamonds on Vinyl, pink bow, fairy princess, Sydney in the woods picking juniper berries aesthetic it’s like..a vibe.” Shayna explained.

“Oh my god- it’s a girl thing carm it’s like. I dunno- like pink frilly shit and like- Lacy shit?” Jesse tried to explain. 

Carm raised his brows, scraping the now cut onions into a bowl. “So Syd picking berries what does that have to do with- what did you say- pink bows?” Carm questioned and Shayna rolls her eyes. 

“It’s the vibe Carmen, the vibe. Ugh you are no fun I can already tell Sydney is the fun one. What music do you listen to?” Shayna sat up next to Syd on the counter as she dusted the board with flour and started to cut the meat into chunks. 

“I listen to…well- a lot. My mom loved R&B so I still listen to that but mostly 90s stuff that makes me think of her, I love SZA, HER, Jhené Aiko, oh Kali Uchis! Khelani of course… frank ocean is so fire I really like his stuff too..yeah just a lot of stuff.” She explained. 

Carm sat there digesting every word she said, it wasn’t unusual for him to do that. He tried tucking the unfamiliar names in the back of his mind so he could look them up or ask Shayna what she knew about them later. 

“Oh my god- we have to chill sometime!! Do you smoke?” Shay asked hopefully and Syd looked at Carm for a moment before her eyes flickered back to Shayna. 

“I do. But…not when I’m working. Because it fucks up my taste and smell..but I am on vacation so…” she said with a small shrug and a smile. 

“Dude! Oh my god Jesse cmon I need to go back to my cabin” she got down off the counter “I’ll be right back” she said and they headed out being sure to close the door behind them. 

“They’re fucking?” Syd asked and Carmen laughed a bit 

“No- no. Where’d you get that?” He asked, beginning to peel the carrots over the garbage can. 

“Why did he go with her? Aren’t the cabins all right here?” She asked. 

Carmen looked up at her for a moment “oh- yeah. They are. Shay has somethin about being alone. Somethin about her childhood- she came here because she said it’s like…the good version of where her dad sent her. Whatever that means. But she can’t be out and about alone it freaks her out. I guess she went to some… wilderness camp? She went on about it in one of our sessions. They were…they were fucked up.” He said, putting the now peeled carrot down on the cutting board and starting on the next. 

“Shit.” She said, putting the cast iron on the burner, starting the flame with the lighter that she’d found on the counter. “Like…so they left her in the middle of nowhere or something?” She asked and Carmy shrugged. 

“Kinda like that. She said that they like…would hike all day. And then at night they’d have to pitch their own tents. They took their shoes at night so they wouldn’t try and run. They’d like- send pictures back to their family- and if they didn’t smile they’d get in trouble. Pretty fuckin…sadistic shit t’do to a kid. Dunno how her dad thought it would change her ways - she said she went because their views on religion didn’t align…” he explained 

“Wow…” she said, after a long beat of silence “she’s like..I wouldn’t have expected her to be so friendly after that. I wouldn’t be” she said, salting down the meat. 

“Yeah Shayna is…a character. For sure. But she’s really sweet, and has a huge heart even though she loves to bitch people out. She’d cut someone if they tried to fuck with me, though. One of the newcomers showed me that” he chuckled, shaking his head a bit. 

“What happened?” She asked

“So we were at lunch, and before that day we just..sat at the same table but didn’t really talk. She talked, but I would mostly listen. And um, this new dude. Justin? I think? Total fuckhead. Guys a tank too, like fuckin’ 6’2? No joke. But uh he was like basically screaming at his table, talkin’ so fuckin’ loud, so I looked over- and he met my eyes and just went off hes like ‘you got a problem little man? What the fuck is up with you, you got a staring problem?’ And Shayna- you should have seen her!” He laughs at the memory. 

“What’d she do?” Syd asks curiously. 

“Oh, she picked up her mashed potatoes- like - a fist full of mashed potatoes Syd- bare handed- and screeeamed at him ‘YOU WANNA FUCK WITH HIM COCKSUCKER?! WHY DON’T YOU COME FUCK WITH A BITCH THAT CAN ACTUALLY LOOK YOU IN THE EYE, SCAREDY MOTHERFUCKER!’  then whipped it at the dude. It hit him right in the face- eeeeveryone was dying we were all cracking the fuck up. I haven't seen him again after that, thankfully, but then she just looked at me and asked me for my plastic knife so she could get the potatoes from under those huge nails she wears and went to wash her hands like nothing happened.” He explained. 

Syd laughs and Carm follows suit. “Wow. Well I guess I shouldn’t worry about you after all- you found a temporary big sister, you should keep her around. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who would pelt another in the face with mashed potatoes for me” she snorts a laugh, setting the meat in the pan. 

“I would. Without a shadow of a doubt, when Marcus was yelling at you I wanted to fuckin knock him out with a pan-“ he stopped himself and she looked over at him, the only sound now filling the room being the sizzling of venison on cast iron and the tick of the wall clock. 

She blinked a few times, unsure what to say before the memory of the drawing came back to her. 

Just say it now. Why else would he want to hit one of his employees with a pan if not for feelings he hasn’t made me aware of?

She’d thought to herself. 

But Carmen on the other hand was thanking god that Shayna and Jesse came back, boisterous as ever- 

“Pookiesss We come bearing gifts” Shayna drops a bag on the table, as well as a pink speaker that was playing some Spanish music Carmen hadn’t ever heard before. 

“You listen to Bad Bunny?” Syd asks as she turns around. 

“YOU Listen to bad bunny?” Jesse asks and Syd smiles big 

“Who doesn’t listen to Bad Bunny?” Syd laughed “he’s like- literally I think the most listened to Spotify artist or something? Top 3?!” 

“Who is bad bunny?” Carmen asks as he cut the carrots into matchsticks. 

“You need to train your dogs better, Sydney” Shayna teased, taking shooters of grey goose out of her tote bag and putting them in the freezer. 

Syd laughs so hard she snorts, covering up her mouth with her hand and shaking her head. “You are fucking insane” she said 

Carmen smiled big, looking over at Syd. “Chef, did you just snort?” He teased smugly and set his knife down, leaning against the counter next to her, smirking. 

“I did- because your friend thinks you’re my bitch” she teased, turning back to the meat and flipping each cube carefully with the metal tongs that were next to her on the counter. 

Carmen’s mouth drops and his cheeks go scarlett, Shayna snorts a laugh, sitting at the table casually, legs crossed as she picked the stems and seeds off buds of weed, while Jesse howls with laughter. “Fuuuck-“ he shakes his head with amusement “wow. I uh…” he snorts a laugh “I get you Carmen. Get you better now” he said. 

“Okay- fuck you shayna” Carmen shook his head, unable to contain his smile. He’d never heard Syd laugh so hard before and witnessing it made him feel on fire. 

“Sorry I can tell who wears the pants it’s a natural talent of mine” she shrugged, “Jess come do this” she slid the little container of picked apart buds over to the spot next to her and he sits next to her at the table. 

“So you guys aren’t..like you’ve not known eachother before this?” Syd asks them. 

“Oh! No we did actually. Jess and I met at this program when we were 14, restart. It was a pure chance though that we come here at the same time.” She said and got up, washing her hands in the kitchen sink of the sticky resin. 

“That’s so cool - where are you from?” Syd asked her as she takes the bowl of onions from next to Carm at the island, their hands brushing for a moment which caused Carmen to nearly cut himself because his focus was completely lost at her touch. 

“Were from LA. Aren’t you from Chicago? Why are you here? I mean- like it’s great you’re great I’m glad to have a sane member of society around, it’s refreshing when you’re only around only psychos, you know? But uh..” she laughed a bit when Syd got started “you must be…pretty close friends” she looked at Carm for a moment before looking back at her. 

Carmen suddenly felt something akin to anger sitting low in his chest. And it had to do with Shayna. He likes Shayna, so he wasn’t sure what was going on. But, Jesse saw the switch in Carmen- and read it right away as jealousy. 

“Uh…” Syd clears her throat nervously, suddenly not knowing what to say. 

“Like what is it? Jess? We went to restart in Wisconsin so Chicago? How far is that?” She asks. 

Jesse gave her the cut it out eyes, but Shayna hadn’t been able to play matchmaker in weeks, she was gonna push these two together the same way she made her Barbie’s kiss when she was a kid. 

“I’ll guess like - 1800 miles. Soooo- oh! And don’t you have that restaurant?” She asked and Syd nods. 

“Mmhmm we run it together. It’s fine though it’s being held down, I finally got my new Sous trained and his sister is working a lot lately she wants to get everything all together before she has her baby so…” she rambled on, trying to pull out any reason that made it sound like she was unneeded there - even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Right. I’m gonna go smoke would you like to come? I’m sure your…” she looks back at Carmen for a moment before looking back at Sydney “partner can hold this down until we get back?” She asked and looked at Carmen again, raising her brows. 

“Yeah- yeah Syd go. Go ahead go relax - got this chef.” He nods and went over to the stove, squeezing past her in the tight space, his hand brushing her waist momentarily as he did so. 

“Okay- okay sure” Syd nodded, following Shayna outside. She walked quietly for a few moments, lighting the joint and taking a drag before handing it over to Syd. 

They were about 30 feet from the house, Syd was taking a deep drag of the joint - savoring the taste since she couldn’t do it often, when Shayna said 

“You need to fuck eachothers brains out so he can go the fuck home. That- or tell him it’ll never happen so he can stay here for however long it takes him to break down and move on” 

Sydney choked on the smoke in her throat, quickly handing the burning joint back to Shayna and coughing into her arm. 

Shayna laughs before taking another drag, patting Sydney’s back sympathetically. “Sorry- people have told me I’m too blunt but I’d rather hear the truth so I give it to people straight” she said simply. 

“Dude! What if he heard you! Shhh!” Sydney said once she caught her breath. 

“Oh please! No! He didn’t! And if he did- he’d be leaned halfway out the door trying to hear the answer because he’s dying to know! You know he has the hots for you- please- don’t play stupid, girl” She rolled her eyes, handing the joint back over. 

“What - no- he’s- we’re business partners” Syd replied, shaking her head and taking a short drag. “He doesn’t. He’s just sick and clinging to me he’s - he’s depressed and I’m violating HIPAA or whatever by saying that but it’s honest! I’m not his type” She passed it back over to Shayna. 

She took it, laughing at her HIPAA comment “Chefs aren’t bound to HIPAA regulations, but nonetheless- I’ll be honest for you, since you can’t be honest with yourself. You flew here because you want to fuck him. There’s no other explanation- no not even just fuck- you love the guy. Why else would you fly across the country to be with him? Especially when he’s due home in 11 days. No dick is that great, especially attached to a guy on that many psych meds.” She said and took a long drag. 

Sydney’s heart began racing 100 miles an hour. She stopped walking, leaning against the fence, feeling like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. She imagined this is how Carmy felt when Stardust threw him off. 

“Are you- what in the Hozier Adele ass fuck. You didn’t know? Or - realize- the L word? That you love him?” Shayna said, taking another drag of the joint. 

Sydney stared at the forest ahead, resting her hand on her forehead, shaking her head. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck.” She swallowed hard. “Um-uh I- I feel sick? I feel- I’m gonna throw up.” Syd said, standing up and quickly walking over to the large oak tree at the end of the rows of cabins, hurling up the remainders of her lunch which was just a McDonald’s burger she’d gotten on her way back from the grocery store. 

“Jesus Christ. It’s you too? What are you waiting for?” Shay followed after her, rubbing her back gently  

“What do you mean-“ She’s interrupted by a gag she couldn’t hold back. “Fuck. What do you mean what’s me too?” She asked, coughing and spitting the bile taste in her mouth on the ground before leaning against the tree to catch her breath. 

“Like- you and him both don’t even realize you’re in love. It’s weird as fuck. It’s usually one person chasing - but you guys are secretly chasing eachother? But also at the same time trying I dunno. One of you has to make a move though” she said, leaning on the tree next to Syd. 

“What if he’s just sick? What if he’s clinging to me because he’s sick and…and I’m like manipulating him” she asked nervously 

“Ahh yes because you are manipulating a grown man into not breathing when he sees you? You can do that? Can you teach me? Except I’ll use it to kill creeps” she nudged Syds shoulder, finally earning a smile back out of her. 

“He doesn’t do that…” she looked at the ground sheepishly

“When we get back, I’m gonna count out loud because the oblivious fuck hears no one when you’re around, and watch he won’t be breathing. I swear it’s like the first thing I noticed looks like a fuckin fish out of water.” She said and finished the joint, stomping it out with her shoe. “Shall we put my experiment to the test?” She asks and Syd rolls her eyes. 

“I wanna see what’s going on with the food let’s go” she smiled a bit, heading back with Shayna to the cabin.  

It only took them 4 minutes back, Shayna walks in first and Carm’s head pops up from his conversation with Jesse at the counter, and as soon as Syd pops in behind her- Shayna quietly starts whispering “one…two…three…four..-OW!” She squeaks as Syd kicks her ankle just enough to hurt. 

That was enough to break Carm out of his trance “hey- hey- how was your walk, y’okay? You look…I dunno” he came up to her, feeling Syds cheek with the back of his hand “y’flushed…” he said and she pulled away from his touch, feeling embarrassed. 

“I’m fine” she said, walking back to the stove and making sure the meat was okay. “What did you do with the beef stock?” She asked, looking over the counter. 

Carmy swallowed thickly “uh- sorry, sorry. Here” he went to where he put it in the cabinet and handed it to her. “We…we good?” he asked quietly. 

“We’re good. Get the juniper berries please.” She said without meeting his gaze and opened the stock, pouring some in the pan. 

Shayna giggles and Carm looks back at where she and Jesse were sat at the table, Jesse making a circle with his thumb and forefinger and thrusting his other finger in and out of it, alluding to their sexual tension lacing the room. 

“Oh you are children.” Carmen grumbles, grabbing a beer from the fridge and rolling his eyes “want one- dipshit? Cabin check is tomorrow they all need to be gone” he said and Jesse nodded with a smug smile. 

“You love your crazy camp besties pookie!!! Don’t play games cause your cool chef friend is around” Shayna said, getting up and going to the freezer, taking out 2 shots. 

“Syd?” She asked and Sydney turns around, looking at the shots in her hand. 

“Uh- why not. Sure. Just one” she said, taking one of them and cracking it open. 

“Cheers” Shayna says, clinking her shooter with Syds 

“To?” Syd asked. 

“New beginnings” Shayna said simply before tilting her head back and swallowing the shot in one gulp.

“That was the best fucking food I’ve ever eaten. Have you guys ever been told you should open a restaurant?” Jesse teased, helping Carmen clear the empty dishes from table. 

“Wow you really should pursue stand up, Jess” Carmy said with a small smile, collecting the 4 disposable cups they used for wine and throwing them away. 

“You know who would fuckin love her Carm?” Syd motions to Shayna 

“Who?” He mused, rolling up his sleeves and starting the hot water on the sink. 

“Richie. They’d be menaces together but they’d be best friends!” Syd laughs a bit and Carmen gasps 

“Richie!!! Yes! They would- but- Oh my god how is he? I literally- fuck. I’m so shitty I haven’t even really…like been thinkin about everyone back home other then like you and I- I guess sugar” Carmen said. 

Jesse and Shayna gave eachother a ‘we’ll discuss this romcom fuckshow later’ look, before giggling amongst themselves. 

“He’s- he’s Richie. He’s never gonna let me stabbing him go. Every time I tell him to do something he’s like ‘right away chef wouldn’t wanna get stabbed’ - he’s scaring the new hires, carm!” She giggled in the way that made his heart flutter like butterflies were smacking it with their wings. “And he keeps calling me cousin by mistake!! It’s getting ..really weird” she shook her head, sitting down at the table. 

“You stabbed a motherfucker?” Shayna asked impressed. 

Carmen laughed a bit “on accident” he told her 

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t feel good he was grating my last nerve that day. But I mean…he’s okay so I’m not that bad for thinking it” she smiled and Carmen laughed, scrubbing the plates with the sponge. 

“I would have stabbed this motherfucker but I just did one better and made everyone afraid to fuck with me. Everyone thinks this was a result of my attempt but it’s not.” Shayna showed off a long scar on her forearm, partially covered by a large dragon tattoo. 

“You did that to yourself?” Syd asked, slightly impressed but mostly a little scared, her finger gently rubbing up the raised scar. 

“Mmhmm. In college. I went to this party, this guy-“ she shook her head with a small, mischievous smile. “So he comes in the kitchen, he’s acting like a fucking bull so of course I’m staring at the weirdo, right? He looks at me- and he goes what the fuck are you looking at, bitch. And I was new, so I didn’t know it was his house. So I was like I’m looking at some meathead loosing his temper like a toddler, what the fuck are you looking at. And he just asks me who I am- and…” she sits back “I didn’t know anyone? Like…I went there to meet people. So I was like oh I’m Shayna and he just starts screaming ‘who the fuck is Shayna, does anyone at this party know a fucking Shayna?’ And he was like in my face. So I told him I was like I’m not trying to start anything here I’m minding my business back up and he goes ‘no one that looks like you is minding their own business’ and then he- he told me he knew what I was.” She said and shrugged.

 “ And that I just wanted attention. And that he would give me the attention I was looking for. And then? He told everyone in the kitchen that someone better speak for me or he was gonna fuck me up.- so, I grabbed a knife from the counter, and he backed up like a pussy and was like ‘I’m kidding! I’m kidding it’s a joke I’m fucking with you!’ And I asked him if he wanted to hurt me, and he kept saying no - even though I knew he was getting ready to kick the shit out of me, probably worse. So I slit my arm, and bled on him. Then I left. And no one ever tried to out me there again.” She said and sipped her beer. 

“You’re gay?” Sydney asked curiously. 

“Yeah but that’s- Jesus Christ these Chicagoans” she said, and her and Jesse started laughing. 

“What? What’s funny?” Syd sat up. 

“she’s-“ Carmen starts

“AHT!” Shayna tisks “no, Carmen, we got to make fun of you for a month now we get to make fun of her until she figures it out. I think you’re smarter though, socially speaking” She said and Carmen gives her the finger, causing her to laugh. 

“Oh- ohhhh! Wow! I wonder how he thought he could tell” Syd said and Carmen looks back at her. 

“Really?! How did you figure it out so fast?!” He asked her 

Syd laughs “oh because it’s the 2020’s and if someone says they were outed and it’s not about being gay, there’s only one other thing to out” she said and Carm huffs, annoyed with his own pitfalls of refusing to make friends his first 30 years. 

“Yeah how would he know? I didn’t know” Carm asked her and she smiled big, looking at Jesse. 

“It was fucked. Up. What you did. But if you wanna tell them? Gooo ahead.” He said with a smile, drying the dishes as Carm washed and rinsed them. 

Shayna laughs excitedly, sitting up and pushing her long blonde hair back. “Okay, so. I end up finding out who this guy is, right? And apparently…his dad who was the football coach was like- DL- into trans girls- “ Carm interrupts 

“What does that mean?” He asked her 

“DL? Down low, like- they fuck us in private” she explained and Carmen scrunched his brows in confusion 

“Why?” He asked and Shayna looked at him confused. 

“Because…they think it’s gay?” She said like it was obvious, but to Carmen, it wasn’t. 

“But… Y’re a girl. So how would it be gay?” He asked 

“I’ll give you a ‘how humans interact with eachother’ lesson later, Carmen, for now it’s story time” she teased.

 “Anyway-“ she continued “so I find this out, because I look up his name on Facebook - see his dad tagged, and I fly to Grindr- because I swore I literally saw him there. Turns out I had. So I send him a chat, we hit it off, I go fuck him-“ she said, Syd starts laughing, Carm turns around with wide jaw eyes and a dropped jaw. 

“Like- oh I fuuuuucked that man. Multiple times. He didn’t fuck me- let me say that again for your cis ears to have it sink in, I fucked- this man’s father” she said - Carmen’s jaw drops further, and Jesse was howling with laughter at Syd and Carmys shocked expressions. 

“No- no- Shayna- hold on I need a cigarette - Jesse take this shit over” Carmen pulls open the front door, pushing up the glass on the screen door, grabbed his beer and cigarettes from the counter, and sat next to Syd at the table. “Okay keep goin- I’ve never heard this much-“ he shook his head in amusement 

“Tea? I know- it gets better!” Shayna laughs. 

Carmen smirked, shaking his head and taking out a cigarette lighting it between his lips and taking a drag. “So you fucked this man’s dad.” Carmen couldn’t help but laugh at how insane the words sounded coming from his mouth- and Sydney followed suit, head falling back and eyes squeezing shut, Carmen’s heart quickened at the adorable sight, having the urge to reach out and grab her soft, delicate hand that was just a few inches from his own on the tabletop. 

“Oh my god- were taking them with us back to chicago- I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this” Syd said, stealing his beer from next to him and taking a sip. 

The action made Carmen’s heart skip a beat. The fact that she was comfortable drinking out of something his lips had already touched, it drove him wild. They had tried food off of the same spoon at work just so they didn’t have to go through the hassle of washing two, but this felt…different. More intimate. 

“Did you- I’m sorry- did you want one?” He asked “I didn’t think you liked beer - I thought you said you like wine more” he said and she shook her head. 

“We can share…right?” She asked, a bit shyly. She wasn’t sure what made her do it, maybe it was because her white claw had been long forgotten and now was luke warm on the kitchen counter, or maybe it was the few extra shots she’d been convinced into taking earlier that was causing her to take the chat with Shayna to heart. 

“Yeah- course, always.” He nodded a bit. Unnoticed by Syd and Carmy, Jesse and Shayna give eachother another ‘we’re gonna talk about this romcom shit later’ look before Shayna clears her throat. 

“So- yes Carmen, I fucked this man’s father. And multiple times. He was married- I didn’t fully know that though before you both look at me shitty- he didn’t say that -“ Jesse cuts her off 

“Ohhhh- oh! No!!” He laughs “no- the real story- is that she saw a ring but didn’t ask about it - you may now continue” he said, turning back to the sink and rinsing the last of the dishes. 

Carm snorts a laugh “evil. That is evil the man’s marriage! Shayna!” He took a drag of his cigarette and she rolled her eyes. 

“It was already on the rocks- let me finish! You fucks! So then- I recorded it, and I held onto it- just in case. But. Get this- one of my girlfriends on campus? Guess who she ran into on Grindr?” She asks and Carm and Syd both lean in slightly, and Shayna can’t help but notice the way they were already so in sync. 

“The fucking guy from the party” she said and Syd gasps, Carmen cracks up. 

“He’s his fathers spitting image. Thats it. That’s why- that’s why he said that to you. He knows about you or whatever? Because he loves girls like you and is also a pussy.” Syd said and Carm hums in agreement. 

“Exactly! Exactly. So…I had her tell him to meet her in the park- but…” she smirks and Sydney covers her mouth preemptively, knowing whatever was going to say next was going to be off the wall. 

“I was there too- fucking his dad! And oops! he saw us! And I asked him if we should check and see who’s bigger- he dropped out of school the same week- and the dad resigned” she said and took another casual sip of her beer with a proud smirk.

Carmen sits there, dumbfounded, looking to Sydney who when she saw the look on his face cracked up. “Your face-“ she said, causing him to start laughing as well. 

“Shay-“ he looks at her, wiping tears that were gathering in the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. “Shayna what the fuck” he managed to get out before laughing again, shaking his head. “You are a person that I won’t ever, ever get on your shit list if I can help it” he said, looking over quickly when Syd coughs from laughing so hard 

“Woah- arms up, arms up” he tells her and goes to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and coming back quickly, opening the cap and handing it to her. She took a large sip. 

“Thank you- sorry- fuck you Shayna you’re gonna kill us both I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh this hard” she said and Shayna smiled 

“Well, that’s a good thing. this guys got a problem with having the dead inside look- at least before you got here” she nudged Carm with her elbow. 

He realized he was still stood, hand protectively on the back of Syds chair looking down at her as if she was the only one in the room. 

“Isn’t that why we’re all here?” Jesse countered, sitting in the empty chair next to Shayna 

“I’m very alive inside- I just get too manic and start destroying my life because it’s something to do” she said and finished off her beer. “I’m already on probation cmon I need to go to my cabin and you aren’t allowed to have fun without me” she told Jesse, standing up and grabbing her bag and speaker. “Nice to meet you, Sydney. And Remember our chat hot stuff” she said as she put her bag on her shoulder. 

“Yeah- we’ll probably run into each other again, I leave Sunday night.” She said, and Carmen’s heart soars. 

He wasn’t sure why, he just thought maybe she’d just fly in for one night to see how he was and then leave the next day, but the fact she was staying a whole other day and a half- and they would be alone. 

“Sick! Okay well we’ll link up tomorrow then, have a goodnight guys - and remember wrap it before you tap it, shortstack!” Shayna said as her and Jesse shut the door behind them and head off. 

Carmen blushed pink, shaking his head. “She’s a hack, but she’s a very nice hack” Carm said, rubbing over his face embarrassedly. 

“They’re super cool Carm. She’s..really fuckin out there but-“ she shrugged looking at the clock. “Oh- shit. Fuck- it is late, I don’t want you to get in trouble” she said, standing up and grabbing her coat off the back of her chair. 

“You- you aren’t um…staying?” He asked and got up, grabbing her backpack she’d brought with her from the kitchen table and bringing it over. 

“Oh well all of my- stuff..” she trailed off, eyes locked on his. They stayed there silent for a moment, and his heart started pounding in his chest so hard he could feel it in his stomach. 

“Uh-“ he started and nervously bit the inside of his lip, he’d been doing that a lot tonight. He was holding his tongue, he always did around her. He didn’t understand it, because unless she was around it was like a part of his brain switched off, and he didn’t have access to speech in the same capacity as when she was near. 

“I- so…I think um- I-“ he stops himself, grabbing his shoulder nervously and averting her gaze. His throat suddenly felt tight, this was it. He either said something, or he let her leave and he stayed up all night thinking about what he should have said when she leaves. 

“Did you draw me?” Sydney asks suddenly. 

Carmen feels his stomach doing flips, his palms got sweaty and all of the color drained from his face. “I-“ he crossed his arm over his chest, tightly gripping his hoodie. He suddenly felt as if he could be sick, “I’m sorry?” It came out sounding like a question. 

Sydney felt insane “you- when-“ she smiled nervously “oh god- Jesus- I- it must be the-“

Carmen cut her off before she could say what would shut his entire course of action that he was trying to lay out down fully before he could attempt to put it into motion. “I meant- I meant I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. Syd. That’s how I meant it. I - you remind me of home.” He said, not breaking her gaze. “And I need a little bit of that, here.” He said softly. 

Syd just nods, holding on to the chair for stability. She wasn’t sure if this conversation was really happening or if she was in some insane dream. She could hardly believe Carmen was expressing himself to her, in a way other then anger or fear. 

“I..I draw you a lot.” He admits, running a nervous hand through his hair. “We do uh- art..art therapy. A few hours every day” 

“Can I…see them? If…if that’s okay?” She questioned. 

The color came back to Carmen’s face full force, he had to be sure whichever sketchbooks he would show her had none of the explicit themed drawings. “Uh- sure. Sure…gimme a sec- I’ll um” he headed to the bedroom, opening the desk drawer and grabbing the bigger sketchbook he usually took to art therapy, the safest one since the therapist would come and look at whatever the patients were working on.  

He quickly flicked through it to make sure, before heading back out to the living room where Syd had sat on the couch when he went to retrieve the sketchbook. “I’m- sorry…sorry if this is like. Weird-“ he said, feeling suddenly Insecure about his hobby that was the reprieve that got him through any of the sleepless nights he had here. 

“No- no its..it’s sweet Carm, can I?” She asked, grabbing the sketchbook in his lap, their hands brushing lightly. He felt that familiar fire in his chest, and nods with a hum of agreement. 

She opened it, eyebrows raising in surprise “they aren’t like-“ he started 

“This is incredible-“ she cut him off and leaned over him, turning on the lamp at his side to get a better look at the portrait he had committed to memory of her smiling. He nearly shivered when her curls brushed his cheek, the smell of the perfume on her neck mixed with the familiar scent of her causing goosebumps to appear over his flesh. 

“I don’t know if I should be offended that you remember the gap in my teeth so well. Because I know for a fact you aren’t on Instagram” she said. He smiled, rolling his eyes slightly 

“It’s one of your nicest qualities” he shrugged a bit. 

“Oh one of them? Are there many?” She smiled, flipping the page.

“I think the question should be if you have any flaws” he said, and her eyes flicked back to his. 

They were now sitting so close that their faces were less then a foot apart. “I think we both know that’s bullshit.” She said 

“To you maybe” his eyes flickered to her lips momentarily. 

“I always catch you doing that” she teased, smiling a bit. 

“Doing what?” He asked, his eyes meeting hers again. 

“I dunno…staring at me..like..” she looks at his lips for a long moment before meeting his gaze once again. 

“Why do you think?” He asked quietly. 

“There are alot of things I can’t seem to figure out about you…Carmy” she said just above a whisper. 

“Well what do you want to know. I’m uh…trying to be more open.” He said equally as soft. 

“Do you know why I really came here?” She asked 

“Because you saw the fuckin drawing, somehow.” He smiled a bit. 

“Yes” she chuckled “but- it just..it kinda confirmed something for me I dunno- I just wanted to come check if maybe-“ 

She’s interrupted by his lips on hers, she was surprised at first, but of course didn’t pull away. He cupped her cheek gently, his thumb rubbing over her supple skin. 

The way their lips moved together was natural, like they’d done this already a thousand times in a hundred lives. His nose gently nudges hers and she wraps her fingers in his dirty blonde curls, tugging gently how she’d fantasized so many times. 

He slid his tongue over her plump bottom lip, humming softly when she opened her mouth at the contact. His hands were nearly shaking. His entire body felt like it was exploding with tiny fireworks underneath his skin. 

The air between them both felt as if it was crackling with electricity. As if the universe was humming in approval that they had finally accepted their bond. 

Sydney had never felt anything so right. She felt as if every stress in her life evaporated, as if her and Carmy were the only 2 people in the world. She felt like she was glowing from the inside out.  “T’make sure I wanted t’do that…right?” He said softly when she pulled away. 

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡ ⋙

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

I actually have discovered I lack the motivation for a new fic so here's various blurbs for Punk Remus corrupting Christian Virgil that I like. Insert Blasphemy and Sacrilegious Activities tags here. And there are a few suggestive ones because it's Remus I don't know how else to form it. Basically I'm sorry in advance :3

- Virgil got that purity culture BS from his parents about like being a virgin before marriage. So like. Extra virgin. Remus changes these things. No details because I want to still be welcomed on this blog 🙏

- They actually meet in a church bathroom (it's really awkward Virgil walks out of a stall to wash his hands and Remus is just sitting in the window smoking) (he doesn't want to be there) (went with his parents and then ditched) (this is only like 50% of the time of me thinking about it tho) (didn't go outside bc they thought it was funny to smoke in church) (made a holy shit joke to Virgil. That was his first sentence. If you shit in a church is it holy shit) (somehow it fucking works) (romance is not dead, fellas, its hidden in the shit jokes)

- the first not Christian song Virgil years is Welcome To The Black Parade by MCR. That's why it's really special to him. Inspired the emo.

- I feel like no matter what Remus' bedroom is covered wall to wall in just. Whatever he wants. Pride flags, tapestries, posters, signs he's stolen, random shit he's thumb-tacked onto the wall, LEDs and fairy lights and lamps. There is no open wall space. This is all a bit overwhelming for Virgil at first (remember: sad beige baby) but he comes to love it and all the things he can look at

- every hickey Virgil gets pre-moving in with Remus is hidden underneath a shirt. Remus leaves ONE above his collarbones and Virgil literally has to tell his parents it was a bruise from how he slept. Remus gets HELLA scolded for that

- Virgil does smoke a cigarette with Remus. He does not like it. They also shotgun a cigarette. He has mixed feelings on that. Virgil does the devil's lettuce with Remus. He enjoys this. A lot.

- Virgil's first time drunk on something other than communion wine (half joking) is with Remus. They skip town thrice over in order to go to a bar where Virgil won't be known and tattled on. Remus is surprisingly very protective and good to him. Takes him home, takes off his shoes and coat, tucks him in, puts a trash can next to him for tomorrow.

- A lot of late night drives through the parks. I mean, it's late, Virgil doesn't have a curfew. They drive through the parks and find a cozy corner to talk where nobody will see or hear them. Maybe they smooch a little. A lot.

- SO many religious conversations. So many. Just. So many. Remus wants the communion wine and the little crackers. Virgil has to explain he cannot have the wine and crackers. Remus calls him wine and a cracker. Then asks if eating the wine and cracker is cannibalism. Then talks about cannibalism.

- my favorite one: Virgil asks Remus to come with him to church one time. Just once. Maybe Virgil is having a hard time (not religiously like externally) and wants to go for comfort but can't stand the thought of leaving Remus. So this like total punk walks into a church and sits with Virgil and... knows all of it? The prayers, the statements, the right times for everything. Virgils shocked. They leave the church later and he's like ???. Remus answers "what? Didn't think I was a church kid? Don't I look like a pastor's kid?" Haha yeah plot twist I love this.

- virgils parents want to meet his "new little friend." Remus can't hide all of the punkness but it tries. Virgil is surprised when he shows up with a clean mouth (swearing + brushed his teeth), long sleeves to hide the tattoos, plastic (mostly invisible) piercings to try and hide the ones he can, hair tied back in a respectable position (is a mullet ever respectable? /j /lh) It doesn't make them 100% like him but he tries and he may succeed a little.

There are definitely more but I also have a habit of sending in asks at 1am and it is 12:52 am and I need eep. I looooooove corruption fics where it's totally cool. Like yeah there's some concern but still that's the good shit. Also hi 🐸 anon (or anyone else) if you read this and any of these inspire you, take em :3

— 👑

V A L I D but I fucking L O V E A L L of this!!! Ree W O U L D make a holy shit joke in a church and of course it works on Vee manz is dorksexual XD /light hearted Poor Ree has to get scolded by his boyf for the hickey wear turtlenecks then Emo XD I seriously L O V E their bond and how carefree they are with each other and the fact that the chaotic Punk at least tries to put an effort to look presentable around Vee's parents to make a good impression is really sweet <3 (Also I'm O B S E S S E D with that plot twist of course Ree would know the church like the back of his hand but Vee's confusion makes it more hilarious XD)