#tyler dog days imagine

[walmarttrashbag]

Finnie & Characters Headcanons!

Finn Wolfhard & his characters x Y/n

Requested by: Anonymous!

I'm so happy it's not Yandere! It feels so much better for no Yandere to write with!!!

~First Date Headcanons~

Finn:

Finn, being the sweet guy he is, is a little nervous at first. He thinks you're so pretty. He pays for you even if you refuse, and you both walk in the park, before dancing around in the night. Really wholesome date for both of you. He drove you home and you shared a lovely kiss.

Richie:

Richie's so charming and charismatic, you couldn't help but fall head over heels for him. Going to the arcade and grabbing pizza. Believe it or not - He let you win Street Fighter! Richie biked you home that night and you kissed his cheek before you went in. He held his cheek, amazed, and biked home thinking about how lucky he was.

Mike:

You didn't know how he could afford a dinner date with his trusty 3.50, but you assumed he'd been working neighborhood jobs to earn the big bucks just for you. Rambles on about how much he misses El... It hurts your feelings so you stand up.

"Where are you going?" Mike would quickly say.

You looked away "I think it would be better to go."

Mike got up "Wait-" He ran over to you and kissed you. You felt weird weird looks from people but Mike grabbed your hand and dragged you into the men's bathroom, pushed you in a stall, and make out noises were echoing all over the bathroom.

Boris:

Let's be honest, Boris stole all the food and stuff and made sure his deadbeat dad wasn't here for anything. You were amazed by how much stuff he got away with stealing. Good food pretty candles, and even lots of flowers. Theo helped set up the place before going to bed. He woke up at 11 pm to hear Boris cursing in Russian and you moaning so loud your vocal cords could break.

Miles:

You were scared as fuck but he was actually incredibly loving. Opened up to you about his life, almost starting crying. The food was amazing, you thanked Mrs. Grose. You went upstairs to Miles' bedroom and almost fucked but Flora was too innocent for her little ears to hear such horrid noises.

Trevor:

You had lunch together in the ectomobile. Trevor sat close to you and put his arm around you, making sure no ghosts would get you, or at least that's what he claimed. You thought he was precious. You shared some kisses and stole bites from his food which he let slide this time. Almost getting killed by a ghost but Trevor resolved that quickly and reassured you everything's okay. You weren't let down in the slightest by this man.

Tyler:

Pizza was on him. He was so nervous, and you thought that was adorable. You gave him so many kisses. Tyler would've died if you weren't there to hold him close, muttering "Thank you" and "I love you". He was so head over heels for you.

Bobert:

Bobert was terrifying, but so mysterious as well. Not really any food to eat, but you laid down together and cuddled in the forest, so it was good enough for you. He was actually a great kisser, and he's earned himself a second date!

Hey! I'm so happy this isn't Yandere!!!! Thank you for requesting this!

[hardlyinteresting]

On The Beach

Jake Seresin x Reader

 “Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!” Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?”

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, nudity, idiots in love, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please),I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended)

This one-shot will exist in the same universe as other one-shots I have planned. But, they can all be read entirely independently.

Word count: 2K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

July had been unforgiving with heat; sweltering days, broken up by occasional rains that cooled the air but left behind intolerable humidity. August was built up as a promise of relief but instead, she steamrolled the record-setting temperatures of July with her own. 

95°F felt like some kind of cruel trick already, but the air conditioning at The Hard Deck cutting out halfway through a shift was a new kind of torture entirely. 

She’d been quick to help Penny to open up all the doors and windows to all the mild relief of the ocean breeze blowing through, bringing in a flood of daylight so uncommonly seen inside the cozy bar. 

The ice machine set to work overtime, fresh kegs of beer ready to pour by the time the usual crowd of regulars began to pile in. Stripped down to a tank top and shorts she ties her hair up to keep it off the back of her neck, desperate to get through this shift in one piece. With just the two of them behind the bar, she does her best to keep up with the seemingly endless pile of orders, reminding the pilots and veterans to take a glass of ice water as well. 

“Hey Sugar,” Hangman flirts leaning against the counter. It’s not fair that he looks so cool and collected, his khaki uniform still perfectly pressed, his hair neatly styled while she thinks she might be melting with the feeling of sweat on her back. She’s sure she looks a mess, but Hangman doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he waits for her to take his order. 

Jake is certain that despite the shower he took on base, he still smells like jet fuel. The hottest day of the year might not have been so bad under the shade of a big tree back home, a soft breeeze blowing through the branches of sweet-olive trees. He'd spent enough summers in Texas to know how to muck through the dog days. But on base, the heat radiates up from the black top tarmac, threatening to melt the soles of their issued boots. Up in the air, the glass canopy of the cockpit feels like a magnifying glass; doubling both the discomfort of intense flight training, and the intensity of the sun's contributions to the torrid day. 

Stripping off his flight suit and stepping into a cold shower had been a relief, matched only by the promise of a beer at The Hard Deck to end the week. 

The doors and windows were open when he arrived, a wall of humid and stagnant heat rolling from inside the establishment nearly had him turning around to head home before he spotted her. Sugar, with her hair pulled back, sweat gathering across her collarbone and chest, white tank top clinging to her in ways he previously could only imagine. She's a sight for sore eyes, and now leaning against the bar he has no intention of going anywhere else tonight. 

“Beer?” she asks him. 

He nods his confirmation, “bottle please,” he adds. “It’s hot in here today”. 

“AC broke,” she sighs, “Mav is up on the roof trying to fix it now”. 

“I’m not sure there’s much he can’t do,” he shrugs, “Drink some water. I can’t have you passing out, Sugar”. 

She does her best to ignore the flirtatious wink he throws her way. She knows he's a relentless philanderer, she's seen how quickly he can manage to find a date for the night. He's handsome beyond a doubt, and by far one of the kindest patrons she has, but she's not looking to be heartbroken. And friendship has suited the two of them just fine for the last few months, no reason to mess with a good thing. 

After two weeks of working at The Hard Deck, she'd finally given in to The Dagger Squad’s insistence that she join them at the pool table after her shift. Hangman had been a surprisingly gracious loser when she ran him out of 50 bucks. A few weeks later Jake and Bradley had thrown a drunk guy out of the bar when he'd given her a hard time and refused to pay his own tab let alone the rounds ordered at the sound of the bell. 

She had tried to thank him but he'd only given her a curt nod, “Nothing to thank me for, Sugar”. 

So she smiles back at his teasing grins, laughs at his jokes, and blows kisses and he playfully pretends they knock him over. It’s easy, it’s fun. “I know you’re just trying to keep your heart in one piece,” Penny tells her, “but don’t break his either”. 

No one sticks around too long, too tired, and far too warm to take up their usual challenges at the pool table. The sun has gone down by the time Mav comes in to let Penny know he had no luck fixing the AC unit before stopping by the table Bob, Coyote, and Hangman have settled at. Hangman has stripped down to his white undershirt, the T-shirt clinging to his chest and back, the sleeves drawing her attention to his arms that she's caught herself staring at too often to count. 

“Heading out?” She asks when Hangman comes up to the bar, getting ready to close out his tab, “You only had one beer tonight”. 

He nods, “Well, it'd be irresponsible for me to have more. I'm giving you a drive home”. 

She grins, slipping the bill across the counter, “I don't remember you asking me”. 

“Mav’s orders,” he answers easily, with a seriousness that makes her think he really isn't just joking with her. 

“Penny's actually, I was just the messenger,” Maverick holds up his hands in innocence. 

Penny calls last call early, before dismissing her for the night, “cool off. Go home,” she instructs leaving no room for argument. 

The night air feels lighter, though not as refreshing as expected, the breeze cooling the tack of sweat against her balmy skin. The sound of the ocean meeting the beachside echoes in the uncharacteristic quiet. She breathes out a sigh her head tilted back and arms out trying to make the best of the gust of wind blowing by. 

“C’mon,” Jake laughs, “I'll crank the AC for you”. 

She pouts a little in return. The glow from the fluorescent light inside the bar floods out across the deck patio, casting shadows out in front of them. He’s standing a good five feet behind her, but his bedimmed counterpart stretches out next to her own, overlapping as he steps closer. The moonlight shines brightly over the white sand below and it strikes her that despite working beachside all summer, she’s yet to step foot on the beach. Jake smirks, his head tilted towards the beach that's captured her attention. “Let’s go cool off,” his words a playful mimicry of Penny’s instructions.

Without protest, she follows him. His grin grows impossibly bigger, clearly pleased with himself as he watches her shuffle out of her socks and shoes, her footsteps so much smaller than his own, she struggles to keep up, but he never lets her fall too far behind. He moves quickly in the dark, the sand still warm underfoot. Nearing the water's edge he slows his pace. She’s gorgeous in the moonlight. She’s always pretty. His usual coquetry shrinks on the tip of his tongue; lost to thoughts and curiosities about her favourite bands, and what might make her laugh. He’s found himself growing somewhat softer as he thinks back to the night he met her, watching her glide through the room oblivious to the attention she’d managed to capture. Her smile lit up the room as she danced with her friends. Her laughter was loud and uproarious, very near infectious. 

His white shirt hits the sand in an unceremonious pile by her feet. 

“Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!”

Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?” “I think you're trying to get me to go skinny dipping with you!” He laughs, “I ain't trying. I'm succeeding”. 

There's not an ounce of shame, nor an ounce of clothing on him as he wades into the water, not turning around to look at her again until his in up past his waist. “C’mon,” he calls to her, “the waters lovely!” 

She's always considered herself to be pretty easy going. But the idea of stripping naked to join Hangman on this oceanic side quest leaves her stomach tied in knots. She's seen enough of him playing football with the squad that she's not shocked by his broad shoulders, nor the expanse of his chest. She knows that standing on the beach, in a tank top a shorts that cling to her the way they do, she has little to hide her own form. But joining Jake in the water will surely only add to the tension they've allowed to build between them. How different is the ocean from an expanse of bedsheets when you're standing naked with Jake Seresin? 

“You have to promise you won't look!” She calls to him, pulling her top up over her head. 

“I promise,” he says, “scouts honour !” 

“Boy scouts? I'm sure you sold a lot of cookies with all that charm of yours”.

She shimmies out of her shorts, hesitating in her bra and underwear. Jake stands with his back to her holding up his end of the deal. 

“Cookies are the Girl Scouts, Sugar,” he corrects, but she can practically hear him grinning, “but I did earn my fundraising activity badge selling tins of popcorn”. 

Bare, she makes a mad dash into the water, splashing as she works to cover as much of herself as possible. 

“So,” she smiles, “you come here often?”

Her voice is quiet as she hopes that the joke lands, her knees bent to keep her top half under the cover of the unlit water. She tries to play cool. Jake, to his credit, plays along without missing a beat. “I can't say I do, Sugar. The dress code is too loose for my taste”.

“Ah, yes, of course. I forgot you're known for being a prude, Hangman”.

A gentle, yet unexpected wave pushes into the shoreline, knocking her sideways. Jake is quick to wrap his hand around her upper arm, not letting her get too far. This close, it’s impossible to hide from the gaze of his warm green eyes. He smells like cedar and amber. Warm and clean. Beneath it, the smell of jet fuel lingers. She knows how hard he must try to scrub it from himself at the end of each day, and she wonders if it might just be in his blood at this point. Another wave pushes them closer together once more. 

He clears his throat, trying hard not to think about how close circumstance has brought them; he weighs the validity of fate but pushes it down deep inside certain that one day these unlabelled feelings might just explode in his chest. For now, he startles when a sudden splash of water is directed towards his face. Sugar feigns innocence, but starts to paddle away from him as he blinks away the water from his eyes. 

“Sugar,” he warns, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish”. His own hands, larger than hers cup more of the ocean's surface propelling it in her direction with a great slosh, the sound echoing on the empty beach.

Up on the deck, Penny and Maverick watch the two distant figures throwing water, their laughter audible even when their words aren’t.

“Do you think they know there are sharks in that water?” 

Penny shrugs, “Do you think they know they’re half in love with each other yet?”

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter two)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2.7k

Playlist Song: the great war by taylor swift

prologue / one / two / three

I try with all I have to not feel any sort of pain over the look of hurt on the woman - Kate’s - face. That look of betrayal, like someone had killed her dog. Like a lover had kept a deep dark secret. I try to shake it off and hold on to the anger that my sad excuse of a husband had decided to show his face at my office. “So, I’ll ask again,” I turn back to the man in question. 

His smile has fallen and he looks at Kate almost apologetically before he drags his gaze slowly back to me. I ignore the sweet swirl of emeralds and sapphires in his eyes, I let the embers in my chest simmer. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Tyler opens his mouth but all that comes out is an awkward gurgle of uhs. He clears his throat and glances down. I follow his gaze to see the thick clay mud speckling his good boots. The boots that I bought him on our first anniversary to wear to the rodeo. “I, uh…” 

I look up into his face with a hard gaze. I watch him close his eyes, collect himself. “I don’t have all day Tyler,” I say. My hands start to shake a little, the overwhelming buzz from the embers starting to billow into a subtle flame. The heat of anxiety starts to warm me from the inside out. I cross my arms tight over my mesh vest to stop the tremble. 

“The truck’s in rough shape,” he says, eyes opening to stare down at me. 

The loud cackle isn’t my intended reaction. It rips through my throat before I know to keep it in. I look over at Kate, gagging the slight discomfort in her features turning a little disturbed as she watches the two of us. I raise a brow at her and laugh again, turning back to the man. “Oh, the truck is in rough shape.” I nod once, then twice. I turn around to my team, watching with apprehension in the bay. “The truck’s in rough shape,” I call out, waving as if to say ‘false alarm guys’.

I can see Tyler wince again in my peripheral vision and when I turn back to him, the light nature of my tone is wiped from my face. “Go fuck yourself.” 

I only make it to the gate when I hear the music peeling down the dirt road. It’s loud, guitar riffs coming from the speaker on what I can only imagine is their RV. I watch as the other wranglers park and come staggering out of their doors. “Sorry we’re late, I had to stop t’ get some gas and,” Boone’s loud voice travels across the space as he comes up to Tyler’s side. He must miss the hard lines of Tyler’s face because he catches my eye and comes running. 

“There she is,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around in a tight embrace before I can say anything. “I missed you, Ms. Fix It.” Boone’s voice is soft as his scruffy chin digs into my collarbone. 

The southern drawl of his nickname for me is a soothing cup of water, nearly extinguishing the burning in my chest. Boone was like a golden retriever. Boone had done his due diligence to send me postcards through the time since I’d last seen everyone. They’d always been blank, just pictures of different southern county spectaculars across the states but catching a livestream of the wranglers’ channel discretely playing on Carter’s desktop when he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom one day, I’d realized it had been the sweet man checking in. I missed his enthusiasm deeply, frustrated that Tyler not only took my heart with him when he disappeared one night but also that he took his whole crew of friendly faces with him. 

“Hey there Boone,” I breathe into his neck, my arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “Couldn’t have sent a warning postcard?” 

The tall man pulls back, “You got my postcards? Oh gosh, that makes me so glad,” he says, placing a hand over his chest. My words register in his mind and his smile stretches wide with guilt. “I’m real sorry ‘bout that. It took all my convincin’ to get the guy to even drive here. Did he mention the truck?” 

“He sure did,” I nod, acutely aware of everyone watching Boone and I. Boone seems in his own world, blissfully oblivious to the two crews watching us. I glance back at the truck where Tyler, hands on his hips, speaks in hushed tones to Kate, another man I don’t recognize and Lily. She catches my eye and waves. 

“Can ya help? Ya know there’s no one else who can fix her up the right way,” Boone says, fixing his dirty cap on his head.  

“Boone, ya’ll can’t just show up here after all this time and just ask me to fix up the truck,” I say. There’s pressure starting to build behind my eyes and I have to shake my head to rid the feeling. I step backwards out of his grasp. 

“I know it’s a real shit thing to do. We wouldn’t have come if we weren’t desperate,” Boone says. He takes a peak over at Tyler, looking back at me with puppy dog eyes. “He would not have come if we weren’t desperate.” 

The comment tugs at my heart strings and I can’t help but look out at the fields around us. The tall grass sways lazy in the breeze, the sun starting to rise higher in the sky. My stomach growls a little. I sigh, starting to shake my head again. 

“Please El,” he asks again, my real name not something I’m used to hearing from Boone.

“Goddamnit Boone,” I say. I wipe a hand over my forehead and lick my lower lip. “What’s wrong with the damn truck?” 

Boone’s face brightens immediately, a wide grin back on his face. He hoots in glee, rushing the few feet across the path to hug me tightly. “Thank you, thank you,” he kisses my cheek a few times, his scratchy mustache rubbing against my skin. I try to push him off with a small laugh, noticing Tyler turning to look at the commotion. 

“Boone, Boone,” I say, laughing a little more at his excitement. “Show me what’s wrong before I change my mind, you bastard.”

He backs away, arms raised in surrender as he leads me back over to the truck. “Alright so, Ms. Fix It has offered to take a look at the sucker to get Betty back into tip top condition,” Boone announces to the group. Back in front of them, the lighthearted feeling of the moment with Boone fades though I catch Lily winking at me as I round the truck to look it over.

I can see the mangled iron of the drill blades under flakes of dried mud and grass. “What did you do to my base drills?” My tone is sharp as I turn to look at Tyler. 

“That was actually me,” a small voice quips from my right. I turn, identifying it as Kate. Hand raised, sunglasses tucked on top of her shiny caramel hair and guilty expression. My brows pinch together. “I took the truck through an EF5, got dragged through the ground. We’ve been going into more storms and Tyler hit a rock,” she continues. 

I only look at her, nodding slowly. “They weren’t built to survive EF5s but I guess that’s one way to test them…is that it?” 

“The rocket rig button isn’t workin’,” Boone adds. “We really need somethin’ with some more power.”

“Boone,” Tyler says, shaking his head at the man. He turns to me. “I can fix that, if you can just help with the drills.” 

I scoff, walking toward the driver’s side to pull the door open and examine the console but Tyler beats me to the door, sidestepping in my path to prevent me from tugging the door open. “I said, I can fix it.” 

“You came all the way here for a mechanic, didn’t you? Let me inspect the work,” I say, tilting my head and narrowing my gaze at him. 

“She’s been running mostly fine, just needs the drills,” he says again, squaring his chest. He looks calm for the first time since stepping out of the truck.  

I poke a stern finger into the soft material of his flannel as I say “Do you want my help or not?” 

He doesn’t flinch, only staring down at my hand hovering near his chest again. He must notice the lack of wedding band and the dainty engagement ring adorning my ring finger because when he looks back up at me, there’s a far away look in his eye.

“Move so I can see what other damage you’ve caused,” I say. 

It’s a low blow. I know it. He knows it. But too much time has passed for me to be kind in my compromising. The hard, stubborn look in Tyler’s eyes fades and softens at my retort. He looks away with a shake of his head, stepping aside while tugging the door open at the same time. My arm brushes against his shoulder as I slide past him. I lift myself into the driver’s seat and glance down at the panel of buttons I’d cleverly designed years ago when he started going out more seriously into the field. 

Crumbs are scattered all in between all the buttons, sticky residue from duct tape collecting dust. “God, would it kill you to take care of this and clean it every now and then?” I ask, cautiously brushing some of it away. 

Tyler ignores me, watching as I look over everything. I glance forward to see if my team is still watching and inhale sharply. The visor is flipped down to block out the sunshine. Gone is the old, tattered photo of Tyler and I on our first date. In its place sits a fresh, glossy photo of who I can only assume to be Kate staring at a storm. It catches me by surprise and the burning embers in my chest return. I make a mental note to dig out those papers from my junk drawer in the kitchen.

I look over at Tyler and we stare at each other for a moment. He’s watching me apprehensively, searching my face for a reaction, maybe an outburst. “Are there flares or rockets in the fittings?” I mumble, turning back to the buttons without waiting for his response. 

I barely hear him call to everyone to back up and instead try to shake off my unease. I hit the bright red button to shoot off the rockets and wait for anything to happen. I push it a few times, clearing out some of the crumbs that I can feel grinding up on the sides but still get nothing. There’s a piece of tap beneath the hitch button, Kate’s Barrels scribbled in Sharpie. I purse my lips and grab the joystick, pushing the button to deploy the drills. They shutter a little, digging into the ground and rattling to a halt with one digging further down than the other. I push the button to retract them and sigh, starting to climb out of the truck. 

“Well?” Tyler’s voice is thick as he steps closer. 

“You’re fucked,” I say, not bothering to look at him and instead motioning for Charlie to open the gate. 

“Can you fix it?” the curly haired man next to Kate asks. 

I look in his direction, then Boone is smiling like an idiot. “Course I can. Boone, can you get the truck inside for me?” 

Boone moves to jump into the truck at my request but Tyler grabs him, tugging him out of the seat to climb in instead. He starts the engine and Boone races to catch up to me instead. He’s joined by the others, walking behind me to the warehouse. 

“TempestEdge,” the curly haired one reads our sign and we get to the bay door. 

“Carter, can you grab my tablet please,” I ask and he nods, running back to my desk. 

“Wait, you guys are those government contractors building and updating infrastructures to withstand storms,” he says, sounding in awe. “You guys are like, state of the art.” 

“We try,” Charlie crosses her arms, tight smile on her lips as she and Birdie watch Tyler drive into the warehouse. Charlie nods in my direction. “El’s the mastermind of the operation, I just crunch numbers.” 

“The team is the mastermind of the operation,” I say, rolling my eyes. I put my hand out to shake his and Kate’s reluctantly. “I don’t normally come off this harsh. I go by my maiden name, Eleanor Harding.” 

“Javi Rivera,” he says slowly, trailing off. 

“Kate Carter,” she introduces herself, shaking my hand. “Sorry for the awkward introduction.” 

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod, turning to walk further into the warehouse. Carter meets me halfway with the tablet, while the others head back to their desks. “Thank you,” I say, starting to swipe through our inventory for possible scraps and parts I can use to fix the truck. Carter stops me though, placing my phone on top of the screen. 

“Before you do that,” he says, his voice quiet with the surrounding guests. “I think you should call your mom.” “Carter, my mom can wait for a call back. She probably wants to hear about how the test went. You know how she gets on days like today,” I say, pocketing my phone and going back to the tablet. 

“Wait,” Javi exclaims. I turn around in surprise, noticing he’s looking at some of the photos on the siding of the warehouse. “That’s where I know that name from. Your parents created Dorothy, they’re legends.” He turns back to me, eyes wide. My phone starts to vibrate again in my pocket. 

I dig my phone back out from my pocket to see the 14th missed call from my mom. “They’re something alright,” I say. A text pops up then. I read it quickly, passing the tablet back into Carter’s chest. 

“I was trying to tell you,” Carter says, holding my bag and keys out  to me. “I’ll catch a ride home with Charlie.” 

I glance up at him, the pressure behind my eyes building again. Can anything go right today? “Thank you.” I turn to head out to the truck without another word. Heavy footsteps stomp behind me, chasing me out the door. It’s not even 10 AM yet as I unlock the truck. 

“El, Eleanor, where the hell are you going?” Tyler bellows as he catches up to me. 

“It’s gunna take a few days to get parts, alright? I’ll call Boone when the truck is ready,” I say, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and starting the engine. It takes a few turns before the engine roars to life. Tyler’s hand catches the door, preventing me from taking off. 

“Hey, talk to me,” he murmurs, leaning into the cab. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t pretend to care all of a sudden, Tyler. You’ve got what you came for, I’ll fix your damn truck so that you can go head first into the next monster of a storm with your girlfriend, alright? I need to go,” I say, my eyes glossy when I look away from his hand to his face. 

He steps closer, pushing with force through my tight grasp on the door. He’s silent as he reaches up to grab the seatbelt, stretching over my hips and torso. I squeeze my eyes shut, distraught as my hands only find comfort on the steering wheel. The click of the buckle is so loud in my ear and I have to remind myself to take slow breaths until Tyler is no longer invading my space.

“Leave the reckless driving to me,” is all he says before closing the door and stepping back. I do my best not to look in the rearview mirror and I peel off down the road to St. Mary’s Medical.

Thank you for reading! Want to be added to the tagged list or share feedback? Click here :)

taglist:

@buckybarnes-1917 @kim-taehyung-12301995 @accordingtoawallflower-blog @axolotllover225 @tgmreader @smoothdogsgirl @paramedicnerd004

[whore-ibly-hot]

I recently just found your boarding school thing and I am in love. I haven't read the faculty one yet but I'm going too.

I'm in love with Tyler and Pez so far. The others are nice but they hit all the niche things that I like. Polycule? Yes! Bad boy good boy dynamics? Yes! Smoking weed and eating good food.

I could just imagine sitting on the couch with my two boys watching some cooking show, saying something looks super tasty because you're stoned and everything looks tasty. Next day you are woken up to a beautiful cake or perfect omelette or whatever really. "You said it looked good so I stayed up allll night to make it perfect. Please eat it now, it's still warm."

Having sex with them both for the first time and finding out Tyler is the rougher one. He doesn't mean to hurt you, but your mouth feels so good and he needs you to take all of him, all of a sudden he's pulling your hair and pressing your head as hard as he can into his pelvis. Pez can be rough too, but it's a lot more purposeful and expected compared to the typically slow Tyler now jack hammering into you like there is no tomorrow.

Plus I just know these two eat pussy so good. Harrison would try but he isn't as good. Mister student president (sorry I'm forgetting their name) wouldn't, doesn't want to get all messy right before a meeting. Evan would but only for special occasions, he prefers your mouth on him. I think my little photo man would be the only other one that stands a chance compared to these two in the pussy eating category, mainly because he is so eager to please and so happy you are letting him touch you. But Pez and Tylar, God tier. They will do it just because.

Pez chilling out on the couch, smoking with you when all of a sudden he gets on the floor and pushes himself in between your knees. Soon he is licking and slurping and sucking until you're a mess and just when you think you are done, Tyler gets to the dorm. Now he wants some because it looks so good and Pez looks like he's having so much fun and your sounds are so pretty. You can't turn him down when he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. Just a little taste, pretty please?

Idk just my thoughts and since they are your characters, some of this might be wrong from how you have made them. I love your stuff already and I just got here.

RAHAHARHRHAAHA SO GOOD

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 24

Tyler Durden and Jack “The Narrator” + masks and/or helmets

I’m sorry to anyone who was hoping for Jason Vorhees, but I’ve been watching my comfort movie (fight club) to destress from my assignments, so I got in the mood to write for these two.

Tyler is his own person in this, cuz I want both to go down on me at the same time, thats the only reason.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Welding had never been your plan for a job, especially not where you found yourself now. Low ranked and forced to do all the shit work your jackass boss couldn’t be assed to do, leaving you alone in the construction yard in the middle of the night, the welding tool hot and dangerous in your gloved hands as it cast an almost evil glow upon your welding helmet, the light reflecting off the glass that covered your eyes.

Imagine your surprise some group of jackasses show up at your construction site. They seemed surprised to see you as you turned around and slid up the front of your helmet to look at them, but the bags under your eyes and the dead look in them seemed to make them see you as one of their own. One of them was even polite enough to ask if they could use the yard for some kind of weird orgy club they had going on, or at least you thought it was an orgy club.

You shrugged and told them if they gave you fifty bucks a night, they could kill a guy there and you wouldn’t give a shit. Hey, there were at least ten guys, they could cough up five dollars each if they wanted to start wailing on each other as you worked.

This continued, multiple nights a week, because of course your shithead boss had you working extremely late hours every day for shit pay, and because of your lack of education and shitty upbringing you couldn’t just drop the job. The fifty bucks a night did help quite a lot, and at some point you didn’t even need to do all that extra work, but you kinda enjoyed watching all these pathetic meatheads and self-proclaiming alpha-males trying to show off just how tough they were by beating on each other.

You never took part in it, but “the guy in the welder helmet runs the place” became some kind of rumour, just because they paid you to let them use the place. Apparently, you not doing any of the fighting made them think you were some kind of bigshot, a member of “project mayhem”, whatever that was.

It might also have been the muscle you had packed on from years of physical labour and your less then friendly attitude that made them think you were more then you were. But hey, you kept welding, but kept half an eye on the group of blood thirsty men, a group that only seemed to grow every night. So much for an “exclusive” group.

One day some guy with ugly spiked hair and a douchey red leather jacket swaggered his way over to you as you half-assed a weld between a couple of pipes. He had a cigarette hanging between his lips, like a real asshole, as he leaned against the pipe you were trying to weld, messing up your already shitty work. You could do a lot better, but you were in no way paid enough to care.

You could tell he was trying to antagonise you, as he would start showing up every night this so-called fight club happened, always trying to push your buttons, and even once putting out his cigarette against the one way glass protecting your eyes.

You were great at ignoring fools like him, so none of his actions got the reaction he seemed so starved for. The one that really caught your attention was this scrawnier guy, who looked like he hadn’t slept in months. It was like watching a corpse walking around, but something unleashed inside him when he fought. It was like a rabid dog with a piece of meat, it made your insides boil.

It was him that finally got you to join the fight, though you spat at their rules, keeping your welding helmet on, because why not, it looked sexy. You could definingly tell your years of labour had served you well from the way some of the guys around the place were looking at you, like they wanted to fight you or fuck you, maybe both.

The sleep deprived corpse, who you later learned was named Jack, tried his damn best to get the upper hand on you. But your uncle used to breed pitbulls and other types of large fighting dogs, so scruffing him and putting him in the ground was too damn easy. The erection on his pants wasn’t hard to see either, but you’d seen enough of this circle-jerk of a club to know it was normal, adrenaline, they always said.

You honestly had no idea how you found yourself in the situation you would find yourself in weeks later. You had finally started taking part in a couple of fights, but the helmet always stayed on no matter how much anyone complained, and you only really cared to fight Jack.

Even when the fucker in the red leather jacket whined and draped himself across you. You learned he was Tyler Durden, apparently him and Jack created this Fight Club junk. Tyler annoyed you though, always talking about society and changing it, you had clocked him once when he just wouldn’t shut up.

One day you found yourself packing down your gear, fight club had ended early today for some reason, you didn’t pay attention to that stuff, you were just there for a show. Tyler had been the first to pull up on you, Jack following not far behind, and when you had grunted what they wanted, Tyler had pounced like an overexcited puppy.

He had started licking the helmet you wore, his spit streaking across the glass of your mask, his breath leaving a foggy texture against it as you gripped onto his jaw, your work rough hands gripping hard enough to definitely leave a bruise.

Tyler was groaning like hed been shot, moaning something about how hot that stupid helmet was, and how sexy you were because you never took it off. You almost threw him across the yard when you felt hands undoing your belt. Snapping your head down you saw Jack on his knees in front of you, he had a busted lip and a black eye, but it somehow added to his charm.

His lips were soft, and his tongue was slightly hesitant as he started sucking you off, Tyler groaning and panting into the metal of your helmet, that was close to where your mouth would have been. You could feel him slobbering all over you, his tongue probably picking up all the grime the helmet had collected over the many weeks you’d gone without cleaning it.

Tylers slobbering was starting to get annoying, so with a grunt you gripped kicked his knees out from under him, making him crash to his knees with a painful crack against the pavement. His eyes seemed to lock on where Jack had been licking and almost worshipping your cock with his mouth, spit and drool dripping off of you and his mouth as he looked up at you with large blown pupils.

Tyler, the attention starved fool he was quickly butted in, his higher skilled tongue started to lap at the base of your length, even ducking in between your thighs to mouth as your sack. You couldn’t help but snort as you ran your gloved fingers through Jacks short hair in an almost loving manner, whilst also gripping and twisting in Tylers gelled hair with the other hand.

Something about seeing their reflection in the reflective glass of your welding helmet only seemed to excitement further, especially Tyler as he drooled, barely even seeming to make an inkling of an effort to keep spit in his mouth. Jack seemed at least a little shy about it, avoiding looking at himself but somehow always ending back at his reflection.

You didn’t tell them you were close, but they seemed to notice from how your hips twitching or your grunting grew rougher. Tyler almost shoved Jack aside to start tonguing at your tip right beside Jack, their tongues rubbing up against each other around your tip in some kind of French kiss.

Tyler had been moaning and groaning loudly the entire time, seemingly getting off at the volume of his noises, where Jack had been more subdued but still present. There was almost a battle of their tongues as you came, spurting white across wet wiggling muscles that tried to catch as much of it as possible.

Surprisingly, or maybe not to surprising, Tyler roughly grabbed Jack and started making out with him like he was trying to swallow him whole when you finished, swapping the mixture of spit and cum between them like a pair of starved animals. You scoffed a small laugh at the sight of them almost humping each other as they kept rubbing their tongues together obscenely, and here you thought Fight Club was a good show.

Tucking yourself back into your pants, you patted them both on the head to get their attention. When they finally pulled away from their sloppy sorry excuse of a kiss to look up at you, you pushed up the welders’ helmet and looked at them, quirking a questioning brow.

That seemed to be enough to get them going, the two almost skittering after you as you started trekking back to your bucket of a car to head home, your roommate would have to put up with the noises you knew you were gonna rip out of those two, so what if you had to keep the helmet on, they were right, it was kinda hot.

[mindless-existence1]

Master List

Includes: Jujutsu Kaisen, My Hero Academy, IF, Spiderman, Deadpool and Wolverine, Criminal minds, Assassination Classroom, rottmnt, Twisters, and more to be included!

☆This will be updated as I continue to make stories!☆

☆Request guideline☆

☆Kinktober 2024 MasterList☆

Mha

Fics

Tokoyami/reader- Preening Feathers fluff

Tokoyami/reader- First Molt fluff

Aizawa/reader- Tied up and overstimmed smut

Tenya Iida/reader- After training massages fluff

SubIzuku x reader imagines smut

SubIzuku x reader thigh riding smut

Tamaki Amajiki x reader praise/assisted masturbation kinktober

Bakugo in the winter x reader headcannons fluff

Bakugo is a pretty boy fluff

Incorrect Quotes

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Jujutsu Kaisen

Fics

Toji/reader- Aladin au smut

SubGojo x reader imagines smut

Reader takes Gojo's V Card smut

Perv Roomate Gojo x reader smut

Teen Gojo x reader first date fluff

Yuji x reader Ruined Orgasms kinktober

SubYuji x reader headcannons smut

SubMegumi x reader imagines smut

Incorrect Quotes

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Spiderman

Miles Morales/Reader- Headcannons fluff

Peter Parker x reader Sleepy Sex kinktober

Deadpool x Wolverine

Deadpool x Wolverine Honda Odessy Scene smut

IF

Headcannons- Calvin/reader, Blossum/reader (sperate) platonic or romantic, Guardian Dog Platonic fluff

Criminal Minds

Imagine Post Prison Reid fluff

Secret relationship with Spencer being revealed fluff

Assassination Classroom

Imagine Karma x short reader imagines fluff

Karma Akabane NSFW Alphabet smut

Rottmnt

Sick Leo x reader fluff

Cuddle Sesh with Leo fluff

First kiss/confession with Leo fluff

Falling asleep on working Donnies lap fluff

Donatello x reader sex pollen kinktober

Sick Raph x reader fluff

Twisters-2024

Tyler Owens x reader cockwarming kinktober

Sub Serises

Submissive Men Stories

SubGojo x reader

SubYuji x reader

SubMegumi x reader

SubIzuku x reader

Rottmnt Sick Fics

Leo x reader version

Raph x Reader version

Drabbles

Aizawa spicy wedding day pictures suggestive

Sukuna kisses

Bakugo kisses

Bakugo vs. Paparazzi

College Sukuna getting jealous at a party

Nanami is a slut idc what anyone says

Jjk men working out is smth else

Playing with Suguru Getos hair

Megumi's love langue is gift giving

Todoroki fluffy stuff idk

[stardancerluv]

A Space Journey

Part Five

Summary: Anger ignites

Notes/Warning: alots of angst.

❤️s, reblogs, comments & feedback are always welcome and appreciated.

You crossed your arms in front of you. “So what is going on Tyler?“

Placing his hands on your upper arms, his thumbs gently rubbing, was usually comforting. It would calm you. But right as he leaned in close, that thing that dog tag hung from his throat as attempting to rest his forehead against yours. You managed to wiggle free.

“Are you going to tell me?“

He stood straight, very straight. It made him incredibly tall. You felt so small. You stepped back.

“Why are you so hostile?” He slammed his hand on the metal wall behind you.

You flinched.

“Because, because…” You stumbled over the words that struggled to come out.

He smelled differently, especially right now and in these last few days, he had seemed so far away. It hurt.

“What?” His eyes appeared darker.

“You have that bloody thing around your neck and…and you are not my Tyler. There is something different.”

“Oh? And how am I different?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t say definitively but he was.

“I don’t know.” You whispered.

“Well, that’s great.” He shouted. “Yet you don’t even know why.”

You chewed on your bottom lip.

“Well, this…this is in case something fucking happens to me. So you’ll know its me.”

He tore it off and threw it at you.

“Here, take it. I don’t need to wear it if it upsets you so much.”

“What is wrong with you?” Tears filled your eyes.

An alert, chirped to life filling the silence.

“Fuck.”

You heard him mutter, you looked at him. As he looked at his watch.”

“Not fucking now.”

He cleared his throat, his eyes slid to you. You didn’t move.

He tapped his communicator.

“Yes, Reid.” There was a strain in his voice.

“Is closer. Leaving now. Bring your protection.”

What you had heard, made the unease in your stomach churn. Now you felt ill.

“Understood.” He tapped the screen off. A loud sigh came from him.

“Tyler?” The argument, the upset you had felt was now replaced by whatever this was.

“Look. I said I got big things. This is it, or it will be. I gotta go.”

You nodded. His features were sharp, strained. He never looked this way with a simple salvage.

He brushed past you and went to his room.

You bent down and picked up the dog-tag,

His name, birthday etched in the glowing glass. You immediately followed him.

You only saw him tuck something way by the time you reached his door.

“Tyler, I’m sorry…” You began, you held up the dog-tag.

His words sliced through it.

“Stop. Doesn’t matter.” He came over cupped your chin, tilting your face up. “I’ll be back. I don’t know when. But I will. I’ll explain then. I should have earlier. Stay here. Not in the bunks.”

He felt especially warm as you felt his lips press against yours before he enveloped you in a tender squeeze. Your eyes barely met his brown ones before he spoke once more.

“Coming back to you, it will make the vast emptiness of space tolerable.”

******

You had brought down from the cabinet the amber liquid that had wonderfully warmed the two of you a mere few days before, now it barely softened the ache of his sudden departure.

His dog-tag now sat nestled around your throat. You couldn’t even imagine, what he was doing or why the sudden departure with no warning.

*******

You woke, face deep into one of his pillows when you heard the arrival of the others. So they didn’t suddenly leave either. He was alone.

Tears that had made your eyes raw came back with that realization. He was all alone up there. You reburied your face.

Inhaling, his crisp scent wishing you were miles away when you heard Kay call for him.

You would have to tell her, you would have to tell them all.

*******

They had finally managed to dock at the cargo ship. On the outside, it looked like it had gone through a few space battles, possibly with the pirates they had expected in taking it over.

As they entered, the gravity was on, but the cycle was almost over.

“And the gravity will remain on.” Xano informed him looking up from the only working screen, they came across. “The air is at a breathable level.”

“Good.” Nodding, Tyler finally pulled off his helmet. He coughed, after breathing the stale air. His gloved fingers rake through his hair. Glancing around not knowing what to expect; he remained on edge.

Walking over to where Xano perched, he gave the cracked screen once over. Xano’s fingers were a blur as they continued to slide and tap over the keys.

“Only one life signature appears to be on board with us.”

Tyler tapped at the screen. “What’s it doing in the sterile room?”

Xano shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

“Right.” He pressed his lips together and nodded. Tyler then looked away from the screen, swallowing as he did. The argument was still fresh in his heart. On the corner of the screen was a faded snapshot of a couple during happier times, it brought fresh pain from the argument you two had prior to leaving.

“You’ll see her again.” Xano patted him on the shoulder, after sliding off a stool.

“I plan on it.”

*******

Their flashlights automatically snapped on. The light beams were sharp in the pitch black room. The doors had reluctantly groaned as they slid open.

Whatever was under their boots crunched, he couldn’t tell it if was tile or glass. After more of a delay, the lights finally flickered on.

Tyler’s eyes grew at what he saw.

@luvscarlyle new chapter but oo so much 😳🫣

[joanofarcbutsilly]

shake the frost

simon “ghost” riley x reader

TW: angst to comfort!!!!!! simon and reader’s relationship is undoubtedly toxic (don’t worry it gets better), simon is not emotionally available in the slightest, mentions of sex in a friends with benefits type relationship but nothing is ever described, small disagreement, there’s kind of a breakup???? but it ends happy

not requested but this is for @corvusmorte who had commented on my last post about this song tehehe

simon has this undeniable coldness to him

he just seems to reek of apathy for his fellow man

upon first glance, you might think simon is just another product of military training. in general, for the type of work simon does, anyone would have to be able to distance themselves from people and the emotions they come with. i mean soap is normally a genuinely kind and thoughtful individual, but turns into a whole different being while on the field

simon is just different though. it doesn’t seem like he has any ability to turn it off, it’s just a part of him

without really knowing him, it’s easy to imagine peeling back this layer of his personality and finding a deep dark void where his soul should be

he is absolutely aware of this general aura and has never had the urge to make a change

he doesn’t get a lot of good first impressions because of this, and very rarely does anyone ever attempt to chip away at his shell

i cant stress enough it is HARD WORK to get to know this man

the fastest way to foster a connection with him is through a friends with benefits type situation (although he will not refer to you as a friend either, you are just a coworker with whom he has sex)

when you DO come to understand him a bit better from piecing little morsels of information together, you come to understand that his coldness is just a means to defend himself

years of pain and mistreatment quite literally from the day of his birth has turned him into a cornered dog, gnashing and thrashing at any attempts to get closer, wether you be friend or foe

knowing his reasons for this is one thing, but putting up with it is another. having empathy for his predicament does NOT mean that you should have to put up with any of his unkindness

i just imagine being in a relationship (if you can even call it that) with simon, built purely on physical interactions. you are someone to warm his bed, plain and simple, and he is not afraid to tell you this.

he has his moments, where he tries, in his own way, to maintain the connection you two have fostered

he’ll pick up little trinkets for you on his travels, little reminders that he DOES in fact think about you when you’re out of his room.

he’s also a pillar of stability for you. no matter the burden you carry. simon is one of those people who you just feel more relaxed by extension because he DOES NOT FREAK OUT

you can also take comfort in the fact that simon will ALWAYS be there to protect you. he will ALWAYS have your back, and even if he doesn’t vocalize it, you know that he would kill or die for you without an ounce of hesitation

he cares, not outwardly.

and you know, you KNOW he cares even if he doesn’t say it, you KNOW. but it can be so incredibly draining to be carrying the entire emotional burden of your relationship (which he vehemently denies the existence of)

so things can be good! you and simon have great moments! but some not so great ones as well

as mentioned, he refuses to acknowledge your importance in his life. and even though you can pick up on the clues of his actual thoughts and feelings on you and your whole arrangement, it can be so exhausting to be told and shown the opposite

some nights after your escapades he will let you stay, and sometime in the middle of the night you’ll wake up to a heavy arm across your abdomen and a heavy sigh. you breathe just a little bit quieter and resist the urge to rearrange yourself so as to not wake him up

the next day, he makes no mention of his midnight affection, so neither do you. you think you have turned a corner in the relationship.

but the next time you two- ahem- get together… following the activity he scoops up your things from the floor and drops them next to you on the bed with his eyes straight ahead. while you just kinda sit there in a disappointed stupor he silently walks to his bathroom, and you can feel the unsaid demand to leave his room before he gets back.

this is a pretty typical pattern, there’s the initial hope following an abnormally affectionate behavior or moment, which is immediately crushed when simon all but launches himself away to maintain a comfortable emotional distance from you.

you cannot vocalize your discomfort with this dynamic either. bringing this up would immediately start up an argument, where simon says that you are overreacting, and you knew what this was and what you are to him. this can end up happening a lot, he avoids healthy emotional communication like the PLAGUE.

after some time together you come to learn what sets him off in a fighting mood.

a BIG one to avoid is “prying” into his past. you cannot and should not be the one to ask any personal questions. all you’re going to get is a pissed off simon and a response along the lines of how “if he wanted to he’d tell you”

anything and everything you know about simon’s history is the result of a slip of the tongue, or the occasional comment by him or someone else on the 141

past this, it’s up to you to use your detective skills to piece together a timeline of simon’s life

following every fight or disagreement with simon there is a gap wherein you might as well be strangers.

the silence almost seems like a punishment, which makes fights absolutely unbearable. you’ve always got the thought in the back of your head that you two might never come back from this, and to keep any kind of connection with simon you’ve got to walk around eggshells for the foreseeable future.

the silence is hard, but he also just has his outbursts on occasion where he just absolutely snaps on you

these breaks happen in his own moments of emotional instability, like after a nightmare

when you do end up staying the night with him, and you hear the even cadence of his breathing suddenly interrupted before he tenses behind you, it’s critical to just lay there and pretend it’s not happening. should you wake him up, you have to pretend he was just snoring or moving around too much, and under no circumstances should you let him know you’re aware of his bad dream.

one such occasion ended up being the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. you finally believed the dynamic between you and simon was comfortable enough that you did wake him up and alerted him to the fact that you were aware of his bad dream, and of course he could tell you anything, and talking about nightmares with someone else often helps you get a better nights sleep, he just stared at you with a blank look for a few seconds. he then threw himself up to sit facing away from you, taking some deep breaths that slowly devolved into a growl. you hesitantly said his name again, which apparently set him off, standing abruptly and shoving his nightstand.

“ghost,” he corrects flatly between clenched teeth, “get out.”

it was clear to see there was no arguing with him, so you just peel his shirt over your head and set it on the bed before dressing and all but running away.

simon makes no attempts to talk to you for a while following this incident, and it is was honestly for the best. you love him, but you cannot put yourself in the position to be hurt by him again. this is the forced distance you need to make a break from you very clearly unhealthy situation.

this goes on for months following the initial confrontation, no late night rendezvous, no talks, no nothing. absolutely cold turkey.

the rest of the 141 is so sick and tired of you both during this for various reasons. they can all feel the tension rolling off of you both when you are either in each other’s presence, or one of you is brought up. price, although he does care for the well-being of his teammates, needs to make sure that all of the cogs of the machine are in working order. soap hates that ghost is in emotional turmoil, but can do nothing about it because any hand extended in simon’s direction might be ripped off. gaz is not as close with ghost as soap is, and doesn’t have a real concern in the leadership side of things, but absolutely hates the anxiety it causes. he misses just having fun with his teammates, but now he knows any teasing could go unbelievably wrong.

all of this comes to a head after a particularly grueling mission which lands you and soap in medical. soap ended up fine, he just had a dislocated shoulder and a nasty slash on his leg that the doctors wanted to keep a little bit of an eye on to avoid anything worse. soap was a good bedside companion, and easy company compared to the new norm of being constantly on edge. but all good things had to end, and johnny was freed from bed-rest and had to get back to work after just a few days. you weren’t gifted the same luck, and ended having to stay an entire week due to a broken ankle and a not so great concussion. sitting in the dark and sleeping constantly was a nice break, but it’s inevitable to get a bit stir crazy.

there was honestly nothing that could have been done, it was just a shit show. despite it not really being anyone’s fault, price is not quiet about the fact that maybe things could have gone better if two CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS could act like ADULTS and COMMUNICATE at WORK without RUINING THE TEAM DYNAMIC. price comes to you with this message, which usually would be unwelcome, but after being bored out of your mind, any human interaction was a welcome experience. price also makes the not so subtle threat of forced therapy should you and ghost not talk to each other within the next week (this was not so welcome). you assure price that you will talk to ghost when you’re off of rest.

this ends your little vacation, and you have to start thinking about how you are going to go about discussing this with simon

you have to sit there with nothing else to do other than twiddling your thumbs and staring at the ceiling, stewing in the pit of anxiety that’s brewing in the base of your stomach.

the confrontation comes much sooner than you’d like

just a day before your release you’re going along with your usual rumination of your expected conversation with simon, the metal rings of the curtain around your bed screech as they’re pulled back. a nurse sticks her head in through the window with a smile and tells you that you have a visitor.

much to your surprise you see ghost in full gear standing by the door like a vulture or some sort of gargoyle.

you stare at each other for a moment before you break eye contact and pretend to busy yourself with sorting out your bedding. without looking you hear the scuff-scuff of simon’s shoes dragging across the floor, and then the scream of a chair being carried along for the ride.

simon positions the chair next to your bed and takes a seat.

there’s a long stretch of silence which you decide to break, just to get the conversation over with, you tell him price already explained the situation to you. you apologize for any uncomfortableness on the field and end with a generic “i hope that going forward this will not affect our work relationship”

simon sighs after you finish and the silence returns yet again.

this time you decide that the ball is officially in simon’s court although you couldn’t have expect his next move

ghost leans forward and rests his arms on his knees, allowing his head to meet his hands.

despite his now floor facing position, it’s quiet enough to hear him apologize. simon says he’s sorry. he says the way he treated you was unfair and needlessly cruel.

still a bit shocked, you remark that although his actions did hurt you, you appreciate the apology.

you decide it is only fair that for all the pain he caused, he should sit in the same silence he had left you in all of those times before. he would not find comfort in you.

it takes a while for him to respond, just telling you that he knows.

you tell simon again that you appreciate the apology, but there is nothing much else to say about the matter. as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, you understand him more than he’d like. you know that he is a good person even if he doesn’t think so. but he hurt you. your only crime was trying to be there for him. you tell him it was so unfair for him to treat you like you had done something horribly wrong by attempting to be closer to him. to constantly send you mixed messages about what the two of you were and the nature of your relationship was. you told him you felt like an idiot. for following him around as if he hadn’t already very clearly shown you what he thought of you. it simply wasn’t fair. if all he wanted was sex, you could have helped him find a hooker, hell, you would have payed for it, just to make things clearer for yourself.

simon’s shoulders raise and his chest expands with an uncharacteristically shaky breath. you look away after this, unwilling to admit that for all he’s caused, his pain is directly linked to yours, and seeing him in any kind of distress causes a physical response in you.

this is why you don’t notice when simon moves his hand from his knee to the railing of the bed. you only notice when you hear the his hand sliding across the fabric of the thin sheet that covers you. unwilling to investigate visually where this is going, you continue pretending the ceiling is more interesting than whatever the hell simon is doing.

your feigned boredom makes the surprise of simon resting his hand on yours all the more shocking. this must show on your face, because when you snap your head up to meet simon’s eyes, he seems a bit hesitant. despite this, he keeps his hand on yours, letting the unspoken question of wether this was ok hang thick in the air.

you nod and he nods back, curling your hand around to entwine your fingers with yours and starts rubbing his thumb back and forth across your knuckles.

he apologizes again. and says he knows you’re a good person. he knows you mean no harm, but he’s just afraid. he can’t help but think of how people who were supposed to love him treated him, and what happened to those who actually did. he knows this isn’t an excuse, but he needed to tell you. he needed to tell you that he misses you.

this is new. very new. you could never have dreamed of a conversation of this nature taking place with simon, and yet there you were

he tells you how much you mean to him, even if he doesn’t say it, and it’s not fair that you he can’t tell you.

there’s more silence, you don’t know if you could respond even if you tried

simon continues

he tells you he loves you

this obviously doesn’t fix everything, simon still has so much trouble believing your good intentions, but the difference now is that he’s trying

he decides that if he wants a real future with you he has to put in the work, so at your gentle suggestion, he asks price about his options for some therapy services he can get into contact with through the military (price choked on his own smoke)

you can still see simon trying to pull away sometimes but he warns you

when he comes back from a mission you hadn’t gone on for whatever reason, he will tell you if he had a particularly hard time. how he’s not feeling like himself at the moment and might need some space in the coming days.

he’s come to discover that this is much preferable to how he handles things before. you don’t get mad at him, you thank him with a comforting smile, telling him that you appreciate the fact that he told you and if he wants to talk about it you’ll be right here.

the nightmares are getting better too- well not the subject matter, but how he handles them

you’ll wipe the sweat from his brow after a nightmare and he tenses like he did when you thought it was over, but now he takes a few shuddering breaths before yanking you to him, arms wrapped around you in a vice grip and face shoved into the crook of your neck. he’s still tense, but not in the flight response you’re used to. breathes in your scent and mutters a gruff thank you as he tries to settle back into sleep. he hasn’t worked up the courage to tell what they’re about yet, but he takes comfort in the fact that you’ll be there for him if he needs.

he starts telling you things too.

simple things at first, like when he first read his favorite book. how his favorite color is dark blue because it reminds him of a blanket he had as a kid. you made some cookies for him one time, and he said he loved them, and told you about the last time he remembers having that sweet treat with his family.

most of it seems trivial, but such a huge step in the right direction it’s almost like he has been replaced by some imposter.

the culmination is when he takes you back to where he was raised. he walks you through the streets, hand in hand, and periodically stops to grab your attention. he will point out where he had his first job, his favorite restaurant that he only really liked because it was his moms favorite.

he is so much… more… now

the new best part of every day is when you and simon part ways for the day

as you go off to leave your practically shared room in the morning, simon always catches the you by the arm to bring you closer. he raises your hand to his lips, and closes his eyes, mumbling a quiet i love you against your skin

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO LONG

requests are open!

[jacksprostate]

f Narrator wanting to murder maim mutilate m marla.. or marla/ male marla and narrator/f narrator worsties/besties. or marla/male marla and tyler… or anything with marla/ male marla..

Marlon called me, interrupted me at work, and he said he had a bruise. He said I needed to come and look at it right away, because he needed to know.

This was him, asking me, pounded flank steak, to look and tell him the nature of his bruise.

Marlon hasn't had health insurance in years, so he tries not to think about it, usually. It's easy, since there's no difference when you have health insurance. It's old hat.

But today, he thought about it.

And he noticed a bruise.

So I'm walking up to the Regent hotel after work, and he's in the lobby in his limp little tank top. He'd call it a wifebeater and imagine himself in place of the wife, I'm sure. I wonder if he isn't cold all the time. Mr. Marlon Singer, such a masochist just so he can show off his skeletal body with all the cigarette burns I have to hear him and Tyler laughing over.

I am Jane's abnormal hemorrhoid development.

He doesn't mention what Tyler and I stole from him, even though I think it was all the cash he had. Even though just three days ago he tried to chase me around the house and beat me with a broom. He made me and Tyler go sleep in the junkyard. Buried under our furs, howling at the moon. Maybe I can't fault him for that.

He couldn't keep it here where the guys he brings back could get at it, he said, and sure. But he should've known better than to tell Tyler about it, because now it's bags upon bags of lye being kept in the driest room in the house.

I work on grinding cracks into my remaining teeth as he grabs his neighbors Agatha and Dianne's Meals on Wheels kits. The delivery lady remarks on what a good young man Marlon must be, helping out these old ladies. Oh, yeah. A real, upstanding, mummified rat of a man. Maybe he helped them into the ditch. He yaps at me the entire walk up to his room, and I don't hear a word as I methodically rip up the skin around Tyler's kiss on my hand with a broken nail. It's been infected since Tuesday, and the ring of puffy red flesh makes the ghost of her lips white like the center of a neon tube. Always buzzing.

We get to his room, he says to me, "One of these boxes is for you, you know."

I think about all the women who bother to use what little time they have to operate charities that keep the poor and destitute alive enough to want to kill themselves. All that time spent cooking mac and cheese en masse and putting little packets of powdered milk next to little cartons of the liquid, like they get at schools and prisons, packets that can only be opened by the nimble fingers of caring relatives these elderly recipients do not have.

Sure.

Tyler told me I need to be eating at least two meals a day, or she'd steal a blender and make me drink raw chicken. So I eat the Meals on Wheels box. Sorry Agatha. I rip open the powdered milk packet, dump it into the carton, hold it closed, and shake it. Twice the calories. A recipe for palliative care.

Marlon's sitting there, quiet, eating Dianne's latest last meal. All the urgency is gone. Sucked dry. He's got pallor like a hospice heart failure. When dogs get treated for heartworms, the worms die, and sometimes, not all of them break apart. Sometimes, there will be thin, dead cords of necrotized nematode strung through their heart waiting for the right beat to fall apart and clot a vital artery. This can take years to happen. Your pet recovers perfectly from treatment until seven years down the line, you give it a doggy cupcake and a pulmonary embolism for its tenth birthday.

Marlon looks like he's had his first melarsomine injection and his owner is thinking about taking him to a dog park instead of bothering with the second. If you let a dog get its heart rate up too high when getting treated for all the parasites you let grow in it, its heart will explode. Or all the worms will clog its lungs. Whichever one it is, it's happening to Marlon here in this room. On this bed.

He says he'd found a bruise, a while back. A nasty little thing, like the crush of a plum under your thumb. Near one of his ankles. And Marlon Singer knew he couldn't afford any novel treatments, and he'd seen too many people rot from the inside out from them already. He did not go to the clinic down the street that gets its windows broken in often enough that there's just big black billowing sails of trashbags over their storefront more often than not. Marlon says he once saw a rat nailed to the door, which is something you'd think would be too neat and poetic for real life. He didn't go to the clinic because he didn't have to. And maybe if he was fucking guys he wanted to he would be a bit more cautious, but the men Marlon Singer gets to fuck are the type to have given him those bruises in the first place. They're the reason there's single mothers visiting that clinic, like half melted wax getting scraped out of the picture. He says he shouldn't feel guilty.

I tell Marlon about where I got the idea for poisoning all the food at the Pressman hotel.

He asks me what I mean by that, and I tell him about my first boss at the company I work for now.

When I first started there, I was selling our cars to companies. Bulk orders for work vehicles. My job was to not fuck up any contracts we already had. Marlon is probably aware, but the type of man involved in that sort of thing, he knows he's got you on a collar and chain. You and him both know he'll be renewing the contract, but you have to do the song and dance for him. Pretend you like how close he gets to you. Pretend you don't want to rip his testicles from his ballsack when he leans in sweaty and tells you how he likes your hair, did you go and do all that just for me?

Because he knows. And you know. But enduring this is what you were hired to do. If you were a man, you would've been hired to create a sense of the old boys club with this guy. But you're not.

There is so much pretense in the world.

Anyway, my first boss, call him Joe — whenever I'd return from those trips and dinners, Joe wouldn't pretend that it wasn't a shit job. He'd commiserate and wish me luck with the next one. He didn't overstep, he wasn't creepy, he kept his distance. The best you could hope for. Thirty days on the job, they asked me how I was doing, and I told them I was doing great. The job was amazing, I felt embraced by the company, my boss was great. One of those things was true to me.

And when Joe got his promotion, for being such a great regional manager, he cornered me in my cubicle and informed me he'd been jerking off into my nicely labeled thin salad lunches each time they showed up in the office fridge. He told me this with the same smile he'd always worn.

Marlon, he's next to me, and he leans closer like we're having a nice little confession. My skin itches.

It was before the 90 day clause kicked in my health coverage, so I had to wait at one of those free clinics like Marlon's, and I was surrounded by a lot of young men, wispy mangled pears. What little flesh was left was soft. When I told the nurse what happened, I watched myself die in her eyes. Dappling up with rashes and bruises until I was all painted and sunken like a bog body.

For the longest time, I wondered if I'd become the oral Mary. How many times I vomited in that office toilet, I don't know. I stopped bringing lunch.

The thing is, I couldn't see it in his face. Joe's, I mean. Not even when he told me. I couldn't see it in anyone. So I stopped eating out. Stopped eating altogether, really.

Marlon, his response was to go to the support groups. His tragedy was that it was a slow death, coming for him. Best to wriggle into the pile of dying bodies, see what it's like. Maybe that could muster enough suicidal impulse.

I tell Marlon, of course, I couldn't go to HR. I was a new hire with no evidence and previous record of liking my boss. I didn't want to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know. Those uncomfortable dinners became absolutely, wretchedly unbearable as I thought about the food I was being forced to share.

When the option came up for a dead end job in the least loved department in the building, I put on the best performance of my life to get the part. Best aspiring Compliance and Liability head and sole department employee, that's me. My new job was to keep secrets. It was, already, old hat.

For months I thought about waking up from a narcoleptic fit at my desk, with Joe leaning over the cubicle wall and asking if I was alright. I watched my stomach like it was nuclear. Every extra second it took until I bled like usual slid me closer to buying myself a shotgun and pumping a slug or two into my brain.

It's an unavoidable fear, I tell Marlon. You can't do anything about it. Once you know, you know. At some point, you have to find the peace in it. Imagine yourself, a balloon popping with meaty chunks flying apart, splattering onlookers and raining viscera.

For a month, six months, I had cancer. Worse than cancer. Every time I eat out, I get it again.

Marlon is looking at me, melting stained glass, drowning in that sort of shared pity you build together with someone who's dying.

I don't want Marlon to feel guilty.

I tell Marlon, that's why I poison the food at the Pressman hotel. Someone's got to do it. Blood in the tomato sauce, spit on the steak. Imagine what you could do to a soup. The men who go to the Pressman hotel, they're the kind that leave Marlon bloody and walking around Paper Street calling for Tyler to come out and burn more holes into him. They're the kind that get promoted from regional manager. They're the kind that lean in close, pull your wrist towards them, and say there's one way they know you could secure the contract renewal. The kind that almost ruin it in a temper tantrum when you don't, resulting in an upper management intervention on the 24th day of your new job. They're the kind that hear that shit and say you should've been more appeasing. More polite.

Don't feel guilty, Marlon.

I hope all of them rot so everyone can see the maggots eating their insides.

Marlon isn't smiling. I am unavoidably bad at distracting him. There's something final in it, when he sighs, and takes off his tank top. He says it's on his back, and I should just tell him.

I look. I see it. Black hole, botfly, necrosis. There's so many things these broken blood vessels could be. Withering, snapping apart like mummified heartworms. I imagine driving the two inch melarsomine needle deep into the muscles bunched upon his spine.

I look.

I press my hands into him, and I grip like I'm trying to rend my fingers through his skin, deep into his body cavity to rip out his guts. Like I'm trying to grab the rope of his small intestine and strangle him with it. Marlon's yelling at me and trying to hit me, arms flapping like a chicken, and I am bruising ten deep circles into the soft pearskin of his abdomen. It's the only place left on him that's mealy, that isn't frayed rope under worn out leather.

I tell him, you've got bruises. They look mostly normal, to me.

Don't worry too much about it.

And Marlon, he leans into me, and I let him.

[walmarttrashbag]

sick rn but I still need requests cause I have nothing to do

I do Finn Wolfhard and his characters

I also now take requests for Sal Fisher/Sally Face and Jeff The Killer

If you have other characters you might wanna read dm me and I'll see if I know enough about them. No yandere please, I had someone have me constantly do yandere and now I'm sick of it entirely.

[misskattylashes]

I have had to say something because I am fed up with all the hate directed towards Alex. And Miles being painted as some tragic Victorian heroine sitting at her window weeping, waiting for her handsome prince to return to her.

Does Miles look unhappy to you? He has a successful career, great friends, a lovely home and most of all, his beautiful little dog. Has it ever crossed your mind that he might be happy single?

Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe him and Alex could possibly have a relationship? They constantly share clothes, Miles has frequently slipped up...only recently speaking about when they’re sitting on the sofa of an evening with their acoustic guitars. How do we think Alex got the idea from Miles of having a screen that reflects the audience, recommended The Mysterines to support AM in the UK, asked Miles to appear at The Emirates Stadium in June, and most of all support the band in Ireland? It’s not done by osmosis. Alex and Miles have a relationship. Whether or not it is sexual is not for me to say. But just because you don’t see them together doesn’t mean they aren’t friends. They live within minutes of each other in London and share many mutual old friends – including the rest of AM and the likes of Tyler and Davey.

I hear many people say when it is suggested Louise is a beard, that Alex would not do that. Alex became famous at 19. He was young and impressionable, and once again I am not saying whether any of his relationships have been fake, but once he started to blossom it was pretty obvious he was going to be a heartthrob and a big selling point to the US audience. His cute little bromance with Miles would have become problematic so he may well have been advised to enter ‘straight’ relationships to keep up the hetrosexual image. Yes he is now a grown man, but fear of coming out can be crippling but it doesn’t mean, in private a person doesn’t have fulfilling relationships. He is probably bound by iron-clad contracts to do certain amounts of publicity, and if spending a few days a year with a girl he’s friends with, who will also benefit from the relationship, means he can live the rest of his life in peace with Miles or whoever he is in a relationship with then let him do it.

Most of all stop turning Miles’ life into a fan fic. I write them myself but I perfectly appreciate the real Miles and Alex aren’t the ones in my imagination.

[embodyingchaos]

❥ YAY first tyler request, he's so baby, sorry this is so late! @user40724432sworld

yandere tyler(dog days) headcanons warnings: yandere behaviour, stalking, obsession, creepy tyler, delusional tyler, implications of murder, manipulation, gaslighting

whew this is gonna be a hard one bc i can barely picture tyler as a yandere but i shall try my best

i feel as though if tyler were to like someone he’d be pretty shy about it, he would watch them from afar, without being creepy of course

but as time passes by he starts to become a bit obsessive over his crush, maybe too obsessive

obsessive to the point he knows where and when you’d run your daily errands, what your coffee order was(not from asking you but by grabbing your empty cup and smelling it like a CREEP) and where your parents lived

he hadn’t talked to you, not once, but he seemed to like that fact

without talking to you, he can imagine what you’d be like if he did talk to you, your responses and your expressions, he could imagine you in any way possible, sure it was delusional but who cares?

of course this all ended once you had eventually bumped into him while going to the library, he was daydreaming about you as he watched you and hadn’t noticed you making your way towards him

you knocked the drink out of his hand and onto the floor, quickly apologising and he was just taken aback, rendered speechless over the fact the imaginary love of his life was speaking to him

he doesn’t say anything for a while, a long while, to the point you’re sorta creeped out by him

“hello? are you alright?” you’d ask and he would shake his head out of it before nervously chuckling and nodding, “y-yeah! i am! s-sorry, you’re just.. so much more beautiful up close.” and this compliment would of course get you enamoured with him, unbeknownst to you that this boy had been following you for a month now

he was glad that you were almost exactly how he pictured, almost

you had a lot of friends, too many for his liking, he didn’t care if they were a guy or a girl, he didn’t like their playful flirting, or teasing jabs, he hated them

when you guys started dating, he had to slowly take them out one by one, using their phones to text you or someone else in your friend group that they’d left the country or some sort of bullshit like that

you were unsuspicious of it at first, until there were only about two friends left in your group, and you were weirded out, why would they all leave so randomly? and not even say goodbye in person?

you would have confided in tyler and he’d just say “maybe it’s cause they weren’t your true friends. i am, though. your true friend and boyfriend, and i’d never leave you, sweetheart.” and you’d be soothed and fall deeper into the hands of someone who was capable of so many horrible things

[ilyasorokinn]

dallas stars

* = from a prompt list 

roope hintz ! (no longer write for)

blurbs,

✷ stalkerish - while checking in (stalking) y/n, roope sees that she’s at a hospital via her location and freaks out just a little. *

✷ cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater - roope comforts y/n when she finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her. *

tyler seguin ! (no longer write for)

imagines,

✷ moose - y/n and tyler broke up a few months prior. that doesn’t mean the feelings aren't still there. 

✷ couples costume - y/n ropes tyler unit wearing a couple’s costume with her. oh, and of course the dogs. (part of “taylor’s 5 days of halloween” series)

✷ christmas is going to the dogs - y/n and tyler celebrate christmas with the dogs. (part of “taylor’s 14 days of christmas” series)

✷ family man - the five times tyler gushed about his family to the media.

blurbs,

✷ flowers and cakes, galore - mother's day with the seguins.

✷ tea party - tyler can’t say no to rosie, so when she throws a tea party, he’s in attendance.

[ wips ] [ masterlist of masterlists ] [ taglist ]

[snowstar716]

SUPER SMASH BROS. CHARACTER THEME SONGS (in my opinion)

Mario: Jump - Van Halen

Donkey Kong: Jungle Boogie - Kool & The Gang

Link: Centuries - Fall Out Boy

Samus: Iron Man - Black Sabbath

Dark Samus: Take Me Over - Red

Yoshi: Walk The Dinosaur - Was (Not Was)

Kirby: Counting Stars - OneRepublic

Fox: Wings Of Steel - Wings Of Steel

Pikachu: Thunder - Imagine Dragons

Luigi: Ghostbusters - Ray Parker Jr.

Ness: It's The End Of The World As We Know It - R.E.M.

Captain Falcon: Don't Stop Me Now - Queen

Jigglypuff: Symphony - Clean Bandit

Peach: Holding Out For A Hero - Bonnie Tyler

Daisy: Umbrella - Rihanna

Bowser: Be Prepared (Cover) - Jonathan Young

Ice Climbers: Ain't No Mountain High Enough - Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell

Sheik: Keep It Undercover - Zendaya

Zelda: When You're Gone - Avril Lavigne

Dr. Mario: Doctor - Jack Stauber

Pichu: Electric Avenue - Eddy Grant

Falco: Birds - Imagine Dragons

Marth: Hero - Skillet

Lucina: Time - Pink Floyd

Young Link: Go The Distance - Michael Bolton

Ganondorf: Hail To The King - Avenged Sevenfold

Mewtwo: Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace

Roy: Burning Down The House - Talking Heads

Chrom: Awake & Alive - Skillet

Mr. Game & Watch: Game Over - Falling In Reverse

Meta Knight: Wrong Side Of Heaven - Five Finger Death Punch

Pit: Fly Away - Lenny Kravitz

Dark Pit: Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

Zero Suit Samus: Unstoppable - Sia

Wario: Thrift Shop - Macklemore

Snake: Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

Ike: Legend - Jaroslav Beck

Squirtle, Ivysaur, & Charizard/Pokémon Trainer: We Are The Champions - Queen

Diddy Kong: It's Tricky - Run-DMC

Lucas: I'm Just A Kid - Simple Plan

Sonic: Runaway Baby - Bruno Mars

King Dedede: Fat - “Weird Al” Yankovic

Olimar/Alph: Rocket Man - Elton John

Lucario: Aura - Dennis Lloyd

R.O.B.: Boom - P.O.D.

Toon Link: Come Sail Away - Styx

Wolf: Three Little Pigs - Green Jelly

Villager: Psycho Killer - The Talking Heads

Mega Man: More Than Meets The Eye - Linkin Park

Wii Fit Trainer: Physical - Olivia Newton-John

Rosalina & Luma: All The Stars - SZA

Little Mac: Free Fallin’ - Tom Petty

Greninja: The Ninja Song - Cory Williams

Palutena: Goddess - Iggy Azalea

PAC-MAN: PAC-MAN Fever - Buckner & Garcia

Robin: Magic - Mystery Skulls

Shulk: Into The Future - Chef’Special

Bowser Jr., Larry, Roy, Wendy, Iggy, Morton, Lemmy, Ludwig: Horrible Kids - Set It Off

Duck Hunt: Atomic Dog - George Clinton

Ryu: Karate - Tenacious D

Ken: Through The Fire & Flames - DragonForce

Cloud: Push It To The Limit - Scarface

Corrin: The Middle - Maren Morris

Bayonetta: Daisy - AshNikko

Inkling: Paint It Black - The Rolling Stones

Ridley: Die MF Die - Dope

Simon: Whip It - Devo

Richter: The Sound Of Silence (Cover) - Disturbed

King K. Rool: Crocodile Rock - Elton John

Isabelle: Best Day Ever - DJ Cadence

Incineroar: Eye Of The Tiger - Survivor

Piranha Plant: Mean Green Mother From Outer Space - Levi Stubbs

Joker: The Joker & The Thief - Wolfmother

Hero: Magic - Pilot

Banjo & Kazooie: Best Friend - Weezer

Terry: Fight To Win - Your Favorite Martian

Byleth: School’s Out - Alice Cooper

Min Min: Unleash The Dragon - JT Music

Steve, Alex, Zombie, & Enderman: Diamonds - Rihanna

Sephiroth: Evil Angel - Breaking Benjamin

Pyra & Mythra: Warriors - Aaliyah Rose

Kazuya: My Demons - Starset

Sora: When Can I See You Again? - Owl City

Mii Fighters: Critical Hit - No More Kings

Sans: Spooky Scary Skeletons (Remix) - The Living Tombstone

Cuphead: I Ain't Worried - OneRepublic

Vault Boy: Sugar, We're Going Down - Fall Out Boy

Shantae: Friend Like Me - Robin Williams

Doom Slayer: Out Of Hell - Skillet

Hammer Bro: U Can't Touch This - MC Hammer

Chain Chomp: Who Let The Dogs Out? - Baha Men

Thwomp: Crushcrushcrush - Paramore

Waluigi: Loser - Beck

KlapTrap: Chomp Chomp - Alestorm

Skull Kid: Masks - Aviators

Moon: Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival

Midna: The Wolf - SIAMÉS

Ghirahim: Welcome To The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance

Metroid: Parasite - DAGames

Mother Brain: Intergalactic - Beastie Boys

Nightmare: Nightmare - Avenged Sevenfold

Knuckle Joe: Fighter - The Cast of Glee

Chef Kawasaki: Eat It - “Weird Al” Yankovic

Andross: Imperial March - John Williams

Krystal: Keep Holding On - Avril Lavigne

Samurai Goroh: Heavy Metal Samurai - Metalucifer

Starman: Starman - David Bowie

Jeff: Rocketeer - Far East Movement

Tiki: Dragonhearted - TryHardNinja

Lyn: Forsaken - Within Temptation

Black Knight: Fight The Knight - Crush 40

Phosphora: Electric Shock - F(x)

Ashley: Hocus Pocus - Marnik

Burrowing Snagret: Angry Birds Rap - JT Music

Kapp'n: Another One Rides The Bus - “Weird Al” Yankovic

Riki: Happy - Pharrell Williams

Color TV-Game 15: New Game - Nitro Fun

Sheriff: I Fought The Law - The Clash

Devil: The Devil Went Down To Georgia - Charlie Daniels

Takamaru: Warriors - Imagine Dragons

Dr. Wright: We Built This City - Starship

Flies & Hand: Fly - Marshmello

Prince Of Sablé: Adventure - Matthew Parker

Sukapon: Robot Rock - Daft Punk

Isaac: With Great Power - JT Music

Starfy: Shooting Star - Owl City

Nintendog: Dogsong - Toby Fox

Dr. Kawashima: Teach You How To Die - JT Music

Vince: Happy Accidents - CG5

Nikki: Mi Mi Mi - SEREBRO

Dillon: Rollin’ - Limp Bizkit

Yuri Kozukata: The Spook - KSHMR

Arcade Bunny: Drunk Arcade - Bombs Away

Spring Man: This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race - Fall Out Boy

Squid Sisters: Just Dance - Lady Gaga

Ghosts: Ghost - Mystery Skulls

Bomberman: Dynamite - Taio Cruz

Alucard: Vampire - Lazyboy Empire

Wily Capsule: Crazy = Genius - Panic! At The Disco

Zero: On My Own - Ashes Remain

Knuckles: Fight Back - NEFFEX

Shadow: Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People

Guile: This Is America - Childish Gambino

Akira: Kung Fu Fighting - Carl Douglas

Gray Fox: Another Way Out - Hollywood Undead

Rodin: Heathens - Twenty One Pilots

Shovel Knight: Diggy Diggy Hole (Cover) - Wind Rose

All Pokémon: Evolution - KoRn

Master Hand & Crazy Hand: I Will Not Be Moved - DAGames

Giga Bowser: Godzilla - Eminem

Ganon: The Beast - Tech N9ne

Galleom: I Am Machine - Three Days Grace

Rathalos: Dragonborn - Jeremy Soule

Dracula: In The Dark Of The Night (Cover) - Jonathan Young

Marx: Alastor’s Game - The Living Tombstone

Galeem & Darkhon: This Is The End - NateWantsToBattle

[miscfandomwrites]

Ghost

A/N: This is one of my first fics but it did get a decent liking to it so I will be reuploading it.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Location: Marvel > Wanda Maximoff > Oneshots

Words: 1.5k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

“You are not seriously wearing that, are you?” Questioned Tony as I walked by him. 

I was wearing a white dress shirt tucked into black pants, my hair a bit messy but down. I had a set of silver rings on both hands, and I was wearing a pair of black boots. 

“I am.” I replied, heading to the elevator. 

“You realize every woman will be on you in a matter of seconds?” He questioned as he followed me in the elevator. 

“That’s the point,” I answered. 

There was in fact only one woman I wanted on me tonight, if she’ll have me.

~~~

“You did what?” Steve gasped. 

I grinned at him. “Stark hasn’t noticed yet, and I got a photo to prove it” I told him. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the photo of a note stuck to the back of Stark’s suit that read “Kick me”

While it was childish, it got her attention which is what I wanted. 

~~~

It was getting late, and the Gala was still going on, despite it being nearly midnight. I was talking to someone who I didn’t know, when I decided to ask her. 

I conjured up the words in my head and glanced around to find her. 

Wanda was wearing a red dress that did nothing to help the need growing between my legs. With low cleavage and a slit up her left thigh, and the way the fabric hugged her curves…

Damn, I had a thing for women in dresses. 

Suddenly a song started playing that I recognized- Jungle, by Nina Chuba.

Care to dance? I asked her, along with an image of us on the dance floor. 

She turned to look at me, with a small smile and swore my heart started beating faster. 

Of course. 

I walked to her, completely leaving the person I was talking to. She had several men around her, all behaving like dogs. 

“May I have this dance, Miss Maximoff?” I asked her. She grinned at me as the men turned to look at me with various emotions that I had no care to observe from. Only hers. 

“You may” she replied as she held out her hand, which I took. 

I led her to the dance floor, twirling her once we got on. I had one hand on her hip, the other holding her other hand in the air, as she reseted her hand on my shoulder. 

“You look beautiful tonight” I told her, gazing at her startling blue eyes. The calm and delight that they held in them reminded me of the sky after a rainstorm. 

She smirked at me. “Don’t I look beautiful every night, Ghost?” She said. Ghost was my callsign, partially due to my abilities and partially due to my habit of disappearing and reappearing out of nowhere. 

“There has never been a day where you have not been beautiful.” I replied, smiling at her. 

She let go of my hand and put it on the back of my neck, and moved closer to me. We were gently swaying to the music, and I rested my other hand on her shoulder. 

She smiled back at me, humming the song. 

I turned my head and saw the men she was with earlier, glaring at us. She turned her head too, and leaned into me. 

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” She asked, as I started glaring at the men. 

“Good idea.” I answered, taking her hand and leading her to the elevator. 

Once we got in and the doors closed, she grabbed my collar and kissed me. She tasted like strawberry chapstick and cinnamon, just as I had imagined. 

I laced a hand through her hair and pulled her closer, and put my other hand on the small of her back. I nipped at her lip and she gladly opened her mouth to me. I backed her up to the wall, pressing her against it. She broke the kiss to look at me. “Care to show me how much you want me?” she asked. I grinned at her. 

“You’ve been listening to my thoughts, haven’t you?” I asked her. 

“About the fact that you want my dress on the floor, of the fact you have a thing for women in dresses?” she replied, smirking. 

“Damn then, you’re in for a hell of a night” I grinned at her. 

The elevator stopped at my floor, and I pulled her out of it, pushing her against the wall right outside of it. 

I had my hands on her hips and was pressing into her. She wrapped her legs around me, and I started grinding into her as she gasped. She leaned her head back, moaning softly as I started kissing her neck. I pressed kisses to her collarbone, before my lips found her mouth again. 

“Do you want marks?” I questioned. This was more so she wasn’t questioned and was comfortable having them.

“Show them who I belong to.” 

That was all it took. I lifted her off the wall and carried her to my room, making sure to leave plenty of marks along her neck and chest. 

I leaned her against the bed as we kicked off our shoes. I started pulling her dress off of her, groaning at the sight of her braless breasts. 

I kissed down her chest, taking one of her nipples in my mouth while I rolled the other between my thumb and forefinger. 

Her hand found its way into my hair as she let out a breathless whisper of my name. I switched, taking the other in my mouth. She started grinding against me, and I placed one of my thighs between her legs so she’d have more friction. 

Fuck, I could feel her heat through my pants. 

I kissed down her stomach, sliding the rest of her dress off. She was wearing a lacy pair of black underwear, which were quickly taken off. I kissed the top of her mound and the inside of her thighs. 

“Please” she asked. I looked up and saw her kiss-swollen lips and piercing blue eyes starting at me. 

I grinned back and licked her folds as she fell back against the bed, cursing. 

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me darling?” I asked. Her essence was coating her inner thighs and damn, it tasted sweet. 

I licked against, from her entrance to her clit, flicking it with my tongue. I put her thighs on my shoulders and pressed my face more into her, licking and occasionally sucking one of her lips. 

I took her clit in my mouth and was rewarded by a near yell of my name. I sucked on it, and felt her thighs shaking around me. I carefully entered one finger and curled it, then another. A jumped mess of words fell out of her mouth, some curse words, others my name, and one that definitely caught my attention as I kept curling my fingers.

“Fuck-(Y/N) please please don’t stop! I’m gonna cum!” she cried out, moaning. 

I kept up my minstations, sucking harder on her clit as she let out a loud moan, the hand in my hair gripping tighter. I felt her walls start to squeeze my fingers and I kept going. 

I looked up right as she came and fuck, I wanted that photo intergrained in my head permanently. Her back was arched, her hair spread out on the bed, her other hand gripping the sheets as she lets out a moan. 

I coaxed her through it, eventually earning another orgasum from her. My mouth switched places with my fingers, causing her to scream my name as she came again. 

I finally stopped, licking her essence off of her thighs, and flicked her clit with my tongue as she whimpered. 

I stood up, licking my fingers as she started at me. 

“Fuck, that was good” she told me. I grinned at her. 

“I can do better.” I replied. Suddenly a loud chime started playing, from which Wanda grabbed her phone. 

She answered it as I went to my bathroom, wetting a washcloth and coming back to her telling someone that she’d be there in a bit. 

I wiped her down carefully, as she asked me “Do you do this with all your lays?” 

I chucked and tossed the washcloth in the laundry basket, and then helping her back in her dress. 

“Only with the ones I really like” I replied. She smiled at me as I helped stabilize her as she put her heels back on.

“I wish I could reciprocate, but I’m needed downstairs. Later, though?” She asked. 

I grinned. “I’m always here.” I replied. She smirked at me and walked out the door. 

I ran a hand through my hair, tilting my head back and breathing out a curse. 

“Fuck”

I sent a mental image to her, of her between my thighs and I got a one-word response from her. 

Later. 

[of-comfort-and-love]

Scrubs Are Not For The Summer

Originally started on: 07/04/2023

Word Count: 434

Omg, I just remembered I'm a writer. XD

Finally got inspired to write something. It's summer and it's hot and I'm all sweaty and muggy and yucky and I hate it!!!

So, I figured why not let my Trau.ma Cen.ter insert suffer with me. Pfft- It was honestly about time I wrote something for this game.

It must be very difficult to work in a hospital when it's so hot outside. I hope they have good air conditioning.

For the record, this takes place after the events of Under The Knife 2.

Doubles DNI. If you ship, Der/Ang (Der.ek X An.gie), please be respectful and don't mention the ship to me, as it makes me uncomfortable. Thanks for understanding!

Tag List: @topstarodeo @rose-wine-selfships @syos-princess @ofieugogyshz @vaporvvave @bipocselfship-archive @so-sang-the-hollow @luvsailor @mystrunmah) Please let me know if you want your name added/removed.) 🙏🏾

"I. hate. Summer." I scorned through clenched teeth, dabbing the beads of sweat off my neck with a paper towel.

"Hate's a strong word to use, Crystal.", Dr. Stiles replied with a chuckle as he handed me a water bottle.

I scoffed and rested it on a nearby desk, glaring at the frosty drops of water dripping off the side.

Unfortunately for us, the air conditioner in the offices broke down, so we were stuck with other options to keep cool when we weren't operating.

Chilled water bottles from the freezer. Fans with rotating heads that didn't have strong enough power.

Those were all fine, but it didn't compare to the cool breeze from the AC. It didn't help that we were stuck in our scrubs.

"You know, we should plan a beach day for the whole office," Derek suddenly declared, his eyes focused on the computer as he looked through various files.

"A beach day, huh? I don't think I'd consider myself a beach type of gal," I scratched my chin before sipping my water. It was definitely needed, especially in this god-awful heat.

"Heh, I'm certain everyone could use a day at the beach once in their life. Besides, wouldn't you prefer to be taking a nice dip in the water instead of getting all muggy in this warm office?"

He did make a good point. Although I've never been to the beach before so...

"What do you think would suit me better- a bikini or a one-piece? Regardless, my ass is gonna be out in public."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that last comment. The sudden pause from the keyboard typing took me out of my funny moment.

"O-oh well uh..."

I looked over and noticed Derek's ears were flushed a bright red.

Was he really imagining me in a swimsuit? Geez, what a perv...

"I think you'd look amazing in anythi- AH!"

My sudden kiss on his burning earlobes left him unable to finish his sentence.

"Wrong answer, Dr. Stiles", I whispered teasingly, giggling as he held his head and his hand.

"Derek, you sly dog. Remind me to give you two plenty of alone time on that company retear to the beach.", another voice exclaimed with a suave tone.

Now it was my turn to get flustered. I whipped my head around to see none other than Tyler himself, a wide smirk spread across his face.

"M-mind your business, Chase!"

He burst into laughter, my face now beginning to burn from embarrassment.

Way to ruin the moment. Note to self: put a lock on Dr. Stiles' office door...