#<my new writing tag if I post any more writing of mine after this

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Alternate au: Prologue

Cesar asks his best friend Mark for a small favor in the middle of the night, but never considered the terrible things his request would cause.

Notes: uh, hey! never posted my writing before, so. here’s something for the alternate au! It’s around 6500 words, so it’s a bit of a long read, but I hope you guys like it anyway. 

TW: possible suicide implication, death, and blood 

           Mark was awoken in the middle of the night to the rotary phone in the living room ringing. It was faint, as it was situated downstairs from his bedroom, but still loud enough to wake him from a deep sleep. He stirred awake, groaning as he regained his bearings. His chestnut-colored hair was a mess, but he wasn’t planning on fixing it; not that late at night anyway. He stood up, walking over the piles of snack wrappers and dirty clothes in his room as he made his way downstairs to the living room. He sighed, grabbing onto the phone before lifting it up to his ear. “Hello?” He asked, trying to use his best “I’ve been awake for a while” voice.

           “Hey, uh, Mark, it’s Cesar…I…I hope it’s not too late.” It was the voice of a young man, though he sounded a tad more worried than his usual upbeat tone.

           “No, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Mark assured. “What’s going on, are you alright?”

           “It’s…it’s not me, it’s my mom.” Cesar explained. “I found her on the ground; she…she was knocked out cold, and I don’t know why.” Cesar paced back in forth in the local hospital, holding the cell phone up to his ear as he rubbed his arm with his free hand. “We…w-we got home from my piano recital, and she…I found her on the ground after she went into the other room.” Cesar glanced down at his suit; a black tuxedo complimented by a white undershirt, a red bowtie, and a rose pinned to his lapel. He didn’t feel it was the most appropriate clothing to wear at the moment, but he didn’t have the time nor the energy to change.

           “Is…is there anything I can do to help?” Mark asked, unsure of how to feel due to how exhausted he felt.

           “I…I’m sorry, but could you…go over to my house?” Cesar requested. “To turn on the cameras we have set up…the ones we installed after we were robbed?”

           “Yeah, of course.” Mark said. “Can I ask…why?”

           “I…I was wondering if…she saw something.” Cesar sighed. “She screamed really loud, so…I-I don’t know.”

           “Did you have all your doors and windows locked?” Mark asked. “Like what the broadcast told us to do?”

           “Yeah, that’s the weird part.” Cesar said. “I…I just…”

           “I’ll be over in a while,” Mark said. “But I’m just going to turn them on and get out of there. You…you know how I feel about your house.”

           “Yeah, no problem.” Cesar said. “Oh, could you…make sure the back hallway cam is on? That hallway specifically…i-it’s been weird.”

           “…Okay?”

           “Thank you…it…it means more than you can think.” Cesar said. “I owe you big time.”

           “It’s no problem, really.” Mark shrugged.

           “I’m at the hospital now, so…I’ll talk to you later.” Cesar sighed. “Thank you again…see ya.”

           “See you too. Goodbye.” Mark heard the line disconnect, sighing deeply as he mentally prepared himself to leave. It had been a while since he left the house, and he wasn’t too keen on leaving while it was dark out. However, it was Cesar; Cesar had done so much for him, so doing one simple favor wouldn’t be the end of the world. Mark looked down at his clothes, which were a light grey sweatshirt over a black T-shirt along with dull pink sweatpants. He decided it wasn’t worth the effort to change out of his pajamas; it wasn’t like he had anyone he needed to impress that night.

           As he approached the front door, he paused, staring at the door knob before pulling his hand back. He jogged back to his room, looking around before his gaze landed on his nightstand. He pulled open the drawer, rummaging through the crumpled papers and junk before he grabbed something. He pulled it out, revealing a pistol in its own holster. He took it out of its leather cover, removing the clip before looking into it, seeing that it was in fact loaded. He sighed quietly before putting the clip back into the firearm, deciding that he was now ready to leave the house.

             The roads were cloaked in an inky black darkness, only broken when the headlights of Mark’s car pierced through them. His pensive stare was fixed on the road before him, wondering when he was finally going to make it to Cesar’s house. If there was one thing he hated about his friendship with Cesar, it would have been the nearly hour long drive between their houses. Living outside of town might have been a good choice for one who likes silence, but not for someone who wanted to be on time for school every morning. No wonder Cesar was almost always late for the first class of the day.

           Mark turned off of the main road, driving into a small gravel lane as his car traversed the unsteady road. Mark glanced towards the edge of the woods, the trees of which lining both sides of the street. The woods seemed somehow darker that night, with no light shining through the leaves, covering the forest floor in shadows. When Mark’s headlights caught something in the distance however, he was finally allowed to let out his breath. It didn’t prevent his dread from growing however, as he now had to face the fact that he was now at Cesar’s house.

           Mark’s lights hit the white garage door and the front door to the right of it. The red brick walls faded into the darkness outside of the range of light, as if the night was consuming the house altogether. Mark reached for his car keys, but hesitated to pull them out of the ignition. He looked at the garage door, seeing the light the headlights offered before pulling his hands away from the keys. He may have had a flashlight and a firearm with him, but that wasn’t nearly enough to ease his stress. At least knowing the car was there and working would help.

           Mark left the safety of his vehicle, approaching the wooden door and reaching for the door knob. To his surprise, it was unlocked, and despite the dread in his chest building, Mark chalked it up to Cesar trying to be nice and saving Mark the effort of remembering where they left the key. That, or Cesar was in too much of a rush to remember to lock it. Either way, Mark had a job to do; go in, turn on the cameras, and get out. It was that simple.

           Mark flicked every light in the house on as he walked through the rooms, turning on every camera he found. He was as swift and silent as a mouse, hoping that the quicker he turned everything on, the quicker he would be able to leave. He may have been rushing more than necessary, though he wasn’t wishing to stay in that creepy house any longer than he absolutely had to. Something about the dark halls and silent rooms made Mark’s skin crawl, as if he was constantly being watched by someone.

           When he reached the final camera, he flicked it on, seeing the small red light flash. “Thank God…” Mark sighed, stepping away from the camera. He turned and walked the opposite direction, leaving the bedroom where the camera was fixed and towards the front door. His joy over being able to leave was short lived however, as he remembered that there was still one more camera that was inactive; the back hallway.

           Mark looked towards the hallway from the living room, seeing the shadows concealing its walls. Something in Mark gave him the urge to just leave it behind, go home, and go back to sleep, but Cesar mentioned that camera specifically. If Cesar came home to see the camera not on, who knew what it would do to his trust in Mark? With that thought alone, Mark sucked up his fear and walked into the hallway.

He looked up at the camera in the top corner of the hall, wondering how he could turn it on if it wasn’t even within his reach. To his knowledge, Cesar and his mother didn’t have a ladder hanging around in a convenient spot, so Mark figured that stretching his arms out as far as possible would be a better option. He raised his arms, gritting his teeth as he stood on his toes, his hands just barely reaching the camera. When his hands made contact, Mark quickly flicked it on, immediately dropping back onto his feet with a slight smile on his face. “There we go…” He whispered as he turned back towards the living room, finally ready to leave that freaky house and have a nice night’s sleep.

“Mark?” Cesar’s voice was faint, but distinguishable. Despite its familiarity, it still made Mark flinch.

“Cesar?” Mark turned around, towards one of the dark guest rooms where the voice originated. “…I…I thought you were at the hospital?”

“I…I’m sorry, but could you…go over to my house?” Cesar asked.

“I…I’m already here, dude—”

“Yeah, it’s not me it’s my mom.” Cesar’s voice continued. “She’s knocked out cold and I have no idea why.”

“…Uh…Cesar…?” Mark’s weird feeling only became worse, forcing him to start backing away from the back room. “This better not be one of your fucking jokes, man—”

“Yeah of course…may I ask why?” That specific line made Mark realize something; a realization that made his blood run cold. That voice was his own, meaning whatever was in the room, and whatever he was talking to, was not Cesar.

Mark scrambled towards the front door, slamming into it and forcing it open. His shoulder stung from the impact, the pain reverberating down his arm, but he wasn’t in the position to care. The faint sound of laugher was heard from the house as Mark rushed to his car, only giving more reason to not look back. He dove into his car, feeling overwhelming gladness over the fact that he left the keys in the ignition. He backed the vehicle away from the house, swinging the car around before he sped down the gravel road.

He must have been going at least double the speed limit down the main road, but Mark’s pure fear outweighed his rational thoughts. He never even saw what was in the house, but Mark knew deep down that whatever was in the other room was a much more powerful, much more malicious being than Mark could ever be. If the broadcast on beings called “alternates” was as true as it seemed, than Mark could be sure that whatever was there was one of them. He just hoped that he left soon enough to lose it.

He slammed on the breaks as soon as he made it to his house, climbing out of the car, closing the door, and sprinting inside, his breath harsh and heavy. He threw the front door open before slamming it shut behind him, locking every single lock on it. He frantically glanced around, his eyes fixating on a table right beside the door, with nothing but a small vase on top of it. Mark grasped onto the corners of the table pulling it towards the door before shoving it in front of it, blocking it off.

He gasped, but he wasn’t able to catch his breath just yet, as he had multiple doors and windows he had to give the same treatment. He hurried from one edge of the house to the other, blocking off doors and locking every window he ran by. When he knew for certain that every single entrance was blocked off, he finished his dash by approaching his phone, picking it up before dialing 911. “Come on…please…” Mark gasped, hearing the line buzz.

“You’ve reached the Mandela County Police Department, what is your emergency?” The operator on the other end stated. It may not have been a typical 911 operator, but Mark was willing to take anything.

“H-Hello?” Mark stammered. “I-I was…I…I don’t—I need the police.”

“Please calm down, sir,” The operator said calmly. “Can you describe your emergency?”

“I-I was…I was at a friend’s house, a-and I heard something…It...It sounded…like my friend, and then it sounded like me!” Mark explained. “I drove away, but…I don’t know, what if he gets home and…it’s there?”

The operator didn’t respond to that comment, remaining strangely silent.

“P-Please…help me, I don’t know if it followed me or not.” Mark begged.

“Alright, calm down…help is on the way.” The operator hung up, and the phone let out a faint beeping noise as Mark stared at it.

“Wh-Why would—” Mark threw the phone down, grasping onto his head. Why the fuck would a 911 operator hang up?! Was that not something they were specifically told not to do?! Mark paced around his living room, forcing himself to take in deep breaths in order to calm himself down. He stared at the ceiling, freezing when something crossed his mind; where was his gun? He looked down at his body, not seeing the small holster anywhere on him. When he saw nothing, he slowly looked back at the front door, realizing he had forgotten it in the car.

Mark had two options before him; he could either hope and pray that the alternate didn’t follow him and leave the doors blocked off, or he could quickly run outside, grab the gun, and then go back inside. Without the firearm, Mark was alone and defenseless, and he wasn’t the type to take chances. He stared at the front door, breathing in deeply before he pensively approached the door, slowly shifting the table blocking it to the side. “Lord, give me strength,” Mark muttered under his breath as he unlocked the door. “…may you have mercy on me.”

He swung open the door, running towards his car as fast as he could manage. He threw open the car door before climbing in half way, rummaging through the messy car. “Where the fuck is it?” Mark questioned frantically, wondering where the hell he put it. He opened the storage compartment between the front seats, finally seeing the pistol resting inside. He grasped onto it before sliding out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

He ripped the holster off of the pistol, grasping onto the gun’s handle with an iron grip. He sighed, glancing down the road as he backed towards his house. He nearly froze when he started hearing something in the distance; indistinguishable words that Mark couldn’t make out. He stared down the road, hearing the words slowly become louder.

“God help me…” Mark said as he backed away.

Soon enough, his fears were realized, as he soon saw the figure producing the sounds. It was humanoid, with warped features that made Mark’s skin crawl. Its gangly legs were carrying it down the street, barely visible through the nightly darkness.

“God save me.” Mark whispered.

Mark scrambled towards his door, ignoring the laughing he heard outside before he threw the door behind him closed, only turning around to lock it tight. He once again grabbed onto the table, pulling it towards the door to block it off. However, a loud crash against the door made Mark stumble back, nearly falling to the ground. He swung his arm up, pointing the pistol towards the door with trembling hands, trying to conceal the sheer horror he felt growing inside of him.

“Mark…” The fake voice of Cesar called in a sing song voice, muffled by the wall separating it and Mark. “Open the door…I have a present for you…”

Mark wasn’t sure whether he should command it to leave or stay silent, hoping it would get bored and leave. However, he wasn’t sure if he could yell even if he wanted to, as any words he could say became stuck in his throat. Instead of saying anything, Mark fled from the living room, rushing up the stairway before seeking refuge in his bedroom. He shut the door behind him, locking it before backing away, still able to hear the increasingly aggressive knocking from the front door. He looked behind him, seeing the messy room and the items within, involving an unplugged television, a tape recorder, an empty notebook, and a few other random things Mark had lying around. However, the thing he took interest in wasn’t any of the objects he had; instead, it was the window on the wall adjacent to the door.

Mark rushed towards it, sliding it open before looking down. He got vertigo just by staring down at the front yard from the second story. With no roof or ledge to grab onto below, there was no way to escape that way without leaving with a broken leg. He stared forward, being able to see the lights of the town in the distance, breaking through the dark night. It was as if the thought of freedom was taunting him.

He couldn’t help but remember something about the movies he always watched. He and Cesar would often have a horror movie night, and both he and Mark noticed that the would-be victim always seemed to run up the stairs or down into the basement instead of leaving through the front door. So many exits, yet they always seemed to choose the worst one. Mark would laugh about how stupid they were when they got killed by the villain, but now he had no room to. He just fell into the same trap that oh so many horror movie characters fell into. He ran up the stairs, and he was now the victim-to-be.

He could hear the sound of one of the first floor windows smashing open, with the noise piercing his ears. He felt his heart sink as he closed the window and turned around, pressing his back against the wall before slinking to the ground. He turned to the nightstand resting to his right before rummaging through the drawer. He grabbed onto a book, the Holy Bible, before hugging it tightly, sobbing softly as he heard the thing creep up the stairs.

He muttered prayer after prayer, wondering what he had done to deserve such a fate. The false voice of his once good friend, beckoning him into a death trap, allowing something beyond his comprehension to follow him to the place he once saw as safe. He never wanted a favor; all “Cesar” wanted was to lure Mark to his death. Mark couldn’t think of any other explanation. What happened to the real Cesar he couldn’t tell, but all he knew is that something malevolent was right outside. He was all alone, and the MCPD wasn’t going to help him; he felt it in his bones. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have heard the sirens by then?

“Mark…I have a gift for you!” The voice outside Mark’s door claimed, its voice distorting like a busted VHS.

“Damn you…damn you…” Mark cried, his wide eyes staring at the floor in front of him as he huddled his knees close to his chest. “God damn you…”

He had no clue how long it was going to be before the thing left, but Mark had no choice but to wait. All he knew is that he didn’t want to see what was on the other side of that door.

Cesar; You fucking bastard.

 Cesar sat in a small, uncomfortable chair as he stared at his unconscious mother on the hospital bed. His arms were huddled close to his chest, his shaky hands gently rubbing his arms as if he was hugging himself. His lips were pursed together, and he didn’t even bother moving his wavy black hair out of his face. All he could hear was the sound of the hospitals many machines and phones, along with the heart monitor next to the bed.

He sighed quietly, leaning back in his seat before his gaze turned towards his feet. It was nearing one in the morning, judging by the ticking clock in the corner of the room. Cesar was beginning to notice how exhausted he felt as his stress and adrenaline faded away. He wondered how long it would take for the doctor to tell him what happened to her, but as the seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours, he didn’t count on that possibility.

He shook his head slightly, standing up before hesitantly leaving the room. He stood outside of the hospital room, clutching his mobile phone, dialing a few numbers, and holding it up to his ear. He put his free hand into his pants pocket, glancing from one end of the hallway to the other, hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble for having his phone on.

The rotary phone in Mark’s living room let out a loud ring, echoing throughout the silent home. It rang and rang, yet no one came to answer it.

“You have reached the automated voice messaging system—” Cesar’s phone played the message, making him sigh in disappointment. “If you’d like to leave a message, please speak after the tone.” After a high pitched beep played, Cesar didn’t hesitate to take that offer.

“Uh, hey, it’s Cesar…I just…wanted to catch up with you and uh…” Cesar sighed. “And see if you turned all the cameras on. Mom seems to be doing well, but she’s…still asleep. Just call me when you get the message, okay? I’ll see you later. Bye.” Cesar hung up the phone, staring at nothing in particular. He stared forward, feeling a strange sensation in his gut. Mark was probably asleep at that point, so maybe it was best to call in the morning.

Cesar’s feeling of dread was becoming worse. He laid across the loveseat in his living room, his eyes staring at the Television in front of him, though he wasn’t necessarily paying attention to the channel playing. It had been three days since he last spoke with Mark, with every call he made only resulting in another voicemail. Cesar understood that Mark wasn’t the most outspoken, social type, but he never ignored calls for days at a time.

Cesar’s mother walked into the living room, noticing Cesar watching the same evening programs he had already seen a thousand times. “Do you want anything special for dinner, Niño?” His mother asked.

“I’ll…I’ll just have the leftovers in the fridge.” Cesar responded, glancing towards his mother briefly before looking back towards the TV. His mother frowned slightly before she walked back into the kitchen. Cesar held his head up with the palm of his hand, his brows furrowed and his gaze distant.

“I just…don’t…get it.” Cesar stated.

“Don’t get what?” His mother asked from the other room. “Is everything alright?”

“…I…I don’t know.” Cesar muttered, rubbing his eyes with his hands.  

His mother leaned into the doorway between rooms, seeing Cesar sit up on the couch, hunched over with his elbows pressed against his knees. It was possibly the gloomiest his mother had seen him in a long time.

“Do you need anything?” She offered, her brows tilting upwards.

           Cesar sighed slightly before crossing his arms. “…I…maybe I should go check on him.” Cesar muttered, standing up quickly before grabbing his car keys from the side table. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

           “Check on who?”

           “Mark.” Cesar responded. “He hasn’t called me in over three days. I…I’m afraid something might’ve happened.”

As Cesar stormed towards the door, his mother called from the living room. “But what about the curfew?”

           “To hell with the curfew.” Cesar responded before slamming the front door shut behind him.

His mother could hear his car’s engine rumble as he backed out of the driveway. She furrowed her brows, folding her hands in front of her stomach as she thought to herself. Half of her was happy to see that her son was as sympathetic and caring as he was, though the other half was worried of him getting into more trouble than he bargained for. However, she was snapped out of her intense thinking when she heard the glass doors leading to one of the back rooms slide open. She looked towards the back hallway, feeling a chill go up her spine. “Hello?”

           Cesar spent the long drive to Mark’s house weltering in trepidation. Something in his gut didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t place what he was feeling or why he was feeling it. The sun was setting in the horizon, with the leaves of the trees beginning to rot in preparation for autumn. It was chilly outside that specific night, with the cool air in Cesar’s car hitting his skin. In hindsight, he should have slipped on a hoodie, but he wasn’t in the mood to care about the chill weather. If Mark was in trouble, Cesar would be the first to help him.

           Cesar pulled into Mark’s driveway, seeing his car parked in front of the door. He stopped next to it before he opened his door and stepped outside, looking up at the two-story home as the chilly fall air hit his face. The light grey paint on the side panels was beginning to chip off, making it almost look unkempt. Cesar didn’t recall it looking like it hadn’t been kept in shape for a long time, though he figured it had been a while since he visited Mark’s house, and Mark’s busy parents didn’t seem like the type to care about some chipped paint until it made it look abandoned.

           He walked towards the front door, knocking on it hard with his intense gaze fixated on it. “Mark?” Cesar called. “You in there?”

           There was no response aside from the crickets chirping in the distance. Cesar slammed his fist against the door, echoing a louder series of thumps than before. “Mark, are you alright?” Cesar called louder, hoping Mark would hear. However, the only response was silence once again.

Cesar backed away from the door, staring up at the second story window, where Mark’s room was situated. It was completely dark; in fact, every window was blacked out, and no lights seemed to be on inside the home. It felt lifeless, and Cesar could feel a sense of dread swelling inside of him. Something about looking up at Mark’s bedroom window made Cesar feel as though he was being watched.

He glanced around his feet, seeing a small patch of gravel lining the edge of the driveway before he crouched down and picked up a few stones. He sprung back to his feet before chucking one of the small rocks at Mark’s window. A slight thunk was heard when the rock made impact, and despite Cesar following it up with multiple rock throws, not a single one of them seemed to get any attention from inside the house.

“Damn it.” Cesar groaned, throwing whatever rocks he had left onto the ground. He cupped his mouth with his hands before he began to shout. “MARK! IT’S ME, CESAR! YOU IN THERE?!”

Cesar didn’t know what he expected, but the response was the same either way; no one answered. He backed away, hesitantly walking back to his car. He sat inside of his vehicle, slamming his door shut as he prepared to leave. He slid his hands down his face, groaning as he shook his head slightly. However, when his mobile phone rang on his car’s dashboard, he froze. He picked it up, holding it up as he rubbed his eyes. “Hello?”

No answer came from the phone, instead being a jumbled mess of static and indistinguishable speech. Nothing was recognizable, like someone flipping through channels on the TV as fast as humanly possible.

“…Hello?” Cesar repeated, feeling his heart sink in his chest.

A loud cacophony of inhuman screams erupted from his phone, nearly startling the skin off of Cesar’s bones. It sounded as if the gates of hell were opened on the other side of the phone line. He ripped the phone away from his ear, hearing the caller disconnect. He stared at the phone in his quivering hand before he quickly tossed it to the side and started the engine. He backed out of the driveway, speeding down the road as his eyes darted around the streets before him. He had no clue what was going on, but he knew he had to be fast.

When he finally arrived home, the sun had already set below the horizon, delving everything in darkness. Cesar left his car behind, jogging towards his front door and swinging it open. “Mom!” He looked around the living room, seeing that it was completely empty. It was nearly entirely silent aside from the faint sound of a ticking clock on the wall, its hour hand nearing 8:00.  

Cesar quietly closed the door behind him, walking through the living room before entering the kitchen, noticing the light was still on. “Mom?” Cesar called. “You there?” He stepped into the hallway connecting the main bedrooms, noticing that one of the doors was open, leading into one of the guest rooms. There were two sliding glass doors leading outside, and judging by the curtains swaying in the breeze, they were wide open.

Cesar’s eyes were fixed on the open doors, with him almost afraid to look away. “M-Mom?” Cesar called again, glancing down the hall for just a second before looking back at the guest room. Cesar backed away from the open door, his back brushing against the master bedroom door. To his shock, his back simply pushed the door open. He let out a yelp as he slammed against the floor in the bedroom, noticing that the lights were on in there as well.

“Oh…shit.” Cesar groaned as he stumbled to his feet. He turned around, looking into the bedroom as he regained his bearings. He stared towards the wall adjacent to him before his entire body froze in place, paralyzed. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the scene before him.

He could barely even begin to process the amount of blood leaking onto the carpeted floor, oozing down the wall from the lifeless body pinned against it by her hands. She was posed in a cross formation, reminding Cesar of a crucifixion from the stories in the Bible. However, the fact that it was in his bedroom, and that the victim was his own mother made him realize just how barbaric those old punishments really were.

“M-MOM?!” Cesar sobbed, stumbling backwards back into the hallway. His head shook rapidly, his mind refusing to fill in the details of the grizzly scene he witnessed.

Cesar ran out of the hallway and through the kitchen, scrambling towards the front door. He fumbled with the doorknob, nearly tripping over his feet when he finally opened the door and ran out into the front yard. He grabbed onto his mobile phone, sobbing loudly as his shaking hand dialed 911.

“Please…you have to help me…” Cesar begged as soon as he heard the line connect. He covered his mouth, gasping in between his cries of anguish as he attempted to get his scrambled thoughts in order.

“Turn around.” The voice on the phone droned.

“Wh-What?” Cesar stammered.

“Turn…around.” The voice repeated.

Cesar hesitantly obliged, slowly turning around and looking back towards his house. He stared up towards the dark sky above the roof, feeling his hands drop to his sides and his hand loose its clutch on the phone. The phone landed on the grass, though Cesar didn’t even notice. His petrified stare was focused on the figure floating weightlessly above his home.

“…Mark?” Cesar choked.

“Mark” was suspended in the air, his arms hanging by his sides as his bruised hands twitched slightly. He was wearing his grey sweatshirt, though it was stained with crimson, the viscera seeping into the fabric. Cesar couldn’t see his face clearly, as if it was concealed by complete darkness from above. The most Cesar could see were the streaks of blood running down from his head and face, streaming down his neck and onto his clothes. However, Cesar could see one eye peek out of the void above his house, fixated on his cowering form. The necklace around his neck hovered in front of his chest, a small metal cross hanging from the silver chain, though Cesar knew that the thing wearing it was not a thing of God.

Cesar could barely move his legs; paralyzed by his own dread, feeling like he was in some sort of fucked up, vivid nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. It had to be a nightmare…it had to be some sort of fucking nightmare, please let me wake up. “Fuck…fuck.” Cesar forced himself to take a few steps backwards, stumbling over his feet and slamming against the dirt. He watched as Mark began to approach him, descending slowly as Cesar crawled towards his car.

Cesar was finally able to shake off his petrified feeling, sprinting to his vehicle before swinging the door open and leaping inside. He dug into his pocket, almost dropping his keys as he took them out. He started the car, speeding out of the driveway as he stared at Mark, who was now over the front yard, his legs illuminated by the car’s headlights. However, before the car sped down the gravel road, it stopped abruptly, its lights shutting off. “Wh—come on, come the fuck on!” Cesar cried, turning the keys in the ignition, starting the vehicle again. The lights turned back on, revealing Mark had grown closer, with his torso now visible. As soon as Cesar let go of the keys, they turned without even touching them, shutting the vehicle off once again.

Cesar looked through the windshield, seeing the pitch black darkness before him. Cesar started his car again, struggling against the force trying to keep his keys from turning. His car’s headlights lit up Mark’s eerily still form, and Cesar could finally see his face, or what was left of it. A black void peeking through his glass like skin, shattered like a mirror. Cesar didn’t spend much time processing the details; his mind was refusing to comprehend what he was staring at.

With his free hand, he swung the wheel around, turning the car towards the road and slamming his foot against the gas pedal, leaving Mark in the dust. Mark watched as the car sped through the lane, letting out a furious cacophony of yells. He sounded as if he released the screams of the damned, all coming out of one being. He lifted himself into the air, disappearing out of view and into the dark, cloudy sky.

Cesar didn’t give a shit about the speed limit; as soon as he made it to the main road, he pressed the gas pedal onto the floor. He felt that he was on the brink of vomiting, but he forced himself to hold it in, trying in vain to calm himself down. He couldn’t get the image of his mother’s corpse out of his head, and every time he remembered the amount of blood seeping onto the bedroom floor, he only wanted to throw up more. He was running out of tears to cry, resorting to dry sobs. He couldn’t piece together his thoughts, unable to comprehend the position he found himself in. As he stared forward, trying to think of anything he could do, he was snapped out of his thoughts when his headlights hit something in front of him. Mark was suspended in the air in front of Cesar’s vehicle, his eye fixed on the speeding car barreling towards him.

Cesar yelled, swerving the car out of the way, the wind from it blowing against Mark’s unmoving body. Mark watched as Cesar attempted to regain control with no success, instead making it lose whatever control it had. The wheels screeched as it slid across the pavement, leaving dark marks on the road. The car flew off of the road, tumbling into the ditch and towards the forest lining the side of the road, only stopping when the side of it smashed against the trunk of one of the trees. Shrapnel flew in all directions, and the windows shattered into hundreds of razor-sharp shards of glass.

Mark stared at the wreck before him, approaching it slowly before he placed his feet on the grass. The plants below him shriveled up and became a dull brown color as he walked towards Cesar’s car. He peered through the shattered remains of the driver’s side window, seeing Cesar leaned away, blood seeping from the small cuts on his face and chest. He was completely still, and from what Mark could observe, he was no longer breathing. Mark let out a small, infuriated huff as he leaned away from the vehicle, floating up into the dark sky. A pity; he wasn’t even the one to kill him. Mark vanished into the darkness, leaving Cesar behind as silence fell.

Cesar remained still, until his eyelid twitched. He slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the pain he felt coursing through his body. He couldn’t tell if he broke any bones, but he could see that his clothes were beginning to turn a shade of red. Cesar freed himself from his seatbelt, shakily reaching for the door handle and swinging it open. He fell to the ground as soon as the door opened, slamming against the now dead grass. He groaned, barely able to support himself with his arms. Nevertheless, he forced himself to stand up, clenching his jaw as he tried to suppress the sharp pain he felt from the cuts in his skin.

He stumbled back onto the road, clutching his stomach with one of his arms as he stared forward. His back was illuminated by the flickering headlights behind him, being the only source of light nearby. The road stretched on and on for what felt like forever before him, barely illuminated. Cesar took in a deep breath despite the tightness in his chest before he limped down the road as tears ran down his cheeks. His mind was blank, as if his mind was racing fast enough for nothing to be processed. 

He glanced at a sign on the side of the road, barely legible through the nightly darkness. He would have felt happy to get out of dodge, but every ounce of joy was already stripped from him. Everything he loved; everything he cared about was gone in an instant. There was nothing left for him if he stayed. As he pushed forward, he wondered if he was destined to die on the side of the road from his wounds. He wondered if that was the end of his journey and if he really should have died in the crash. However, a fate like that wasn’t something he was going to let himself to succumb to. He pressed on, not letting himself rest until he made it to the nearest form of hospitality. He stumbled past the sign, not looking back as he made his way to Bythorne County.

“Thank You for Visiting Mandela Cty, WI. Come Again!”

#mandela catalogue #tmc alternate au #mark heathcliff #alt mark #cesar torres #Cesar Torres (alt au) #tw sui implied #blood #tw death #shmorp writes sometimes #<my new writing tag if I post any more writing of mine after this #feel free to suggest any changes to either the story or give me some feedback on my writing #i'd like to know your thoughts on it #I just thought it would be cool to post my writing for once #because I never did. I only ever shared my writing with like. one person. ever #apologies for the long read I hope it’s worth it #imagine rewriting the entire ending the night before posting it. couldn’t be me

[itsjustaninchident]

To the moon and to Saturn 🪐

Lando Norris x Model!Reader

socmed au

summary: where they give the audience chaos because of their rumored "breakup"

warning/s: sexual innuendos (if you squint)

author's note: just a little something to get me out of writing slump 🥹 there's a part 2 to this fic if you wanna check it out🫶

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe, and 203,839 others

yourusername busy week

view 2,394 comments...

user1 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user2 PLEASE MARRY ME

user3 mother is living her best life and im here for it

user4 GET OUT OF THE WAY LANDO IM GONNA STEAL HER

user5 kinda sus no lando in the comments simping over how hot she is

user6 TRUE he usually comments and likes her post like a second after she posted it 😭

user7 there's got to be something

user8 no there's just something wrong in y'all's head...

user9 yeah leave them and their relationship alone

yourfriend back and better in black

liked by yourusername

user10 interesting...🥴

user11 what do they mean by this😭

user12 maybe because it's been awhile since yn got back in modeling after her supporting lando and going on a vacation with him?

user13 you guys are reading into this too much

lando.jpg

liked by maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 897,475 others

lando.jpg parties and a tad bit hungover...

view 23,495 comments...

user1 YOU CAN'T JUST POST THE 2ND PHOTO AND GET AWAY WITH IT

user2 i believe he's thirst trapping his way out of the issue

user3 what issue?

user2 some are saying him and yn broke up

user3 lol people are too obsessed with their relationship im not surprised we won't get any posts from them anymore lol

user2 true

maxfewtrell nice music but please don't throw up on me next time

maxverstappen1 why was i not invited

landonorris you were busy with something else🙄🙄🙄

maxverstappen1 oh i see you're still on it...

user4 am i delusional if i think this is about yn ?????

user5 babes im gonna be delusional with u

user6 yeah no❤️

user4 what if they just fought?

user6 what if you all leave them alone lol

danielricciardo nice party, hoping for that one more important invite next time😜

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 237 others

user7 don't mean to ruin the vibes but where's my girl yn :((

yourusername

liked by charlottesine, isahernaez, yourfriend, and 890,938 others

yourusername welcome to new york

view 23,103 comments...

user1 THE GIRLS ARE BACK

user2 THEY'RE SO HOT

user3 WAIT SHE'S IN NEW YORK???

user4 CAN'T BELIEVE MOTHER AND I ARE BREATHING THE SAME AIR

user5 im sorry but it's been like a month of them not posting each other😭

user6 it's been a bad month for us😭

user7 my parents :'(

user8 them in one frame is too much to handle

user9 uhmmm why is she hanging out with the exes????👀

user10 maybe because they're still friends and her girlfriends' breakups has nothing to do with their friendship???

user11 ikr... is she like a member of the club now?

user12 i hope not lol

isahernaez missed you so much! And im so happy for you❤️

liked by yourusername and 1,790 others

user13 her liking it...

user14 she's happy for her meaning she's like in a better place now????😭

user15 don't do this to me

user16 geez they cant even say anything that you guys do not to relate to her relationship lmao

via twitter...

via instagram...

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 2,347,987 others

landonorris just married my best friend, the love of my life, and my better half. I love you until one can reach the sky.

tagged: yourusername

view 89,739 comments...

user1 WE WERE MOURNING THEIR "BREAK UP" ONLY TO BE WOKEN UP TO THIS POST😭

user2 this is my childhood bestfriends to lovers trope!

user3 no cause where's mine?!

user4 this is so much better than a black background and default font ig story announcement that they broke up😭

carlossainz55 i hope yn can make it through the night when she hears you snore

landonorris I don't snore!

carlossainz55 sure and birds cant fly

yourusername some birds can't

landonorris see???

yourusername but you do snore love

user5 IVE MISSED TIMES LIKE THIS😭

maxverstappen1 can't believe you got married before me

user6 you better watch your step mister, I'm literally right behind you.

landonorris 🫡 i would not dare

yourfriend oh yeah you'll never hear the end of it

yourusername stop threatening my husband😭

user7 "husband"😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 all of us are crying

lewishamilton congrats mate!

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 72,309 others

yourusername

liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe, and 1,295,670 others

yourusername Love you to the moon and to Saturn❤️

tagged: landonorris

view 50,405 comments...

user1 no because you don't know how happy i am for them😭

user2 i can finally sleep in peace at night with a smile on my face knowing my parents literally got married

user3 i have never once cried over celebrity couples getting married but this😭

user4 kinda valid knowing how much they went through just to be where they are now😭

user5 from them being childhood bestfriends to being enemies to being best friends again and now they're married?!😭

user6 im so happy for them 🥺

lilymhe congrats love! just tell me if lando hurts you I will literally snatch you from him

yourusername you're first on my contacts

landonorris hey! no fair

charlottesine gotta admit i shed a tear seeing you walk down the aisle🥺 so happy for you!

yourusername love you cha!

user7 yn is so blessed with her husband and her friends🥺

user8 and they're very blessed with her too🥺 she's like the gentlest most loving person ever

liked by landonorris and 29,654 others

landonorris very lucky to have her as my wife

user9 THEY JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF CALLING EO HUSBAND/WIFE😭

user10 im gonna bathe with my toaster

user11 gonna lay down on the road

yourusername awww are you trying to ask for more lasagna?

landonorris did it work?

yourusername nope :P maybe kisses will do for now?

landonorris never mind the lasagna, brb gonna get it you owe me about a hundred ;)

user12 not them flirting under the comments!!😭 Get a room!😭

user13 oh they're abt to

#lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader #lando norris au #lando norris #f1 socmed au #f1 #fluff #f1 fic #f1 fluff #lando norris social media au

[brickmvster]

new look [leon kennedy x gn!reader]

(fanart in the middle from tanya.gavva on instagram)

synopsis: leon kennedy grows out his hair for the first time in a long time... and you cherish every moment of it.

word count: 1,190

tags: long haired re4r leon, established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff and cute domestic stuff, slice of life, short and sweet

author's note: ya'll know those long hair leon kennedy mods. yeah. yeah those. thank the modders for inspiring me to write this. 😭😭😭 (seriously he is so beautiful with long hair i am Crying)

as per usual, this was posted at a time when i should be sleeping lol. this has been proofread but some grammatical errors may have still slipped by me. apologies in advance, any and all mistakes are mine!

please enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated.

(this has been crossposted on ao3)

Sometimes, Leon goes quite some time without hearing from the government. On the rare occasion he gets extended breaks, he gets a little lazy when it comes to keeping his hair short. Short hair stays out of Leon's face, and prevents any evil residents from grabbing it when he's on missions, but when he doesn't have any hostile enemies to fight and he spends most of his time with you, he likes to let it grow just a little bit – after all, it's nice to save some money on haircuts and it gets some pretty entertaining reactions out of you.

When you first noticed Leon's longer hair, you didn't comment on it; you assumed that he'd cut it fairly quickly. But several days had passed, and his hair only grew longer, much to your surprise (and delight). You brought it up to him one night while he was helping you cook dinner, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes.

"Are you growing out your hair?" You had asked him. Leon looked away, almost in a shy manner that you found absolutely adorable.

"Yeah… I know it's unusual of me to keep it this long but it's been a while since my last mission and I haven't really felt like going to the barbershop, so…" he trailed off, running his fingers through the locks in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

There was a bit of silence before Leon spoke again. "Do you like it?" He asked you, to which you could only chuckle in response, walking over to him and running your own fingers through the strands before letting your arms rest on his shoulders, playing with the hairs on his nape.

"Leon Kennedy. Is that even a question?" You replied incredulously. Leon just smiled, chuckling softly as he placed his large hands on your waist. The two of you leaned in and shared a sweet kiss, momentarily forgetting about dinner altogether.

Leon eventually pulled away first, but his face remained close enough to yours that you could still feel his breath on your lips. Your fingers were still playing with his hair tenderly as your eyes admired the gorgeous sight directly in front of you.

Leon had always been handsome – that was just a known fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Leon Kennedy is attractive as all hell. But with the way his long hair was framing his face, you were falling in love all over again.

"Somehow you've gotten even more beautiful. I didn't even think that was possible." You teased, tucking some hair behind his ear.

"You're really loving this, aren't you?" Leon playfully asked, grinning warmly at you.

"To say that I'm loving this is a massive understatement – I am obsessed." you said with a smirk, saying the words against Leon's lips before pressing yours against his once more, this kiss a bit more passionate than the first one and making you feel light-headed in the best way possible, butterflies viciously attacking your stomach as Leon still somehow managed to sweep you off your feet years into the relationship.

Leon tried to pull away again after several minutes of lazily making out in the middle of the kitchen, but every time he tried you would chase his lips, never keeping your mouths separated for longer than a second.

"Baby," Leon whispered against your lips, and eventually you leaned back, but not without great reluctance.

Leon just kissed your cheek. "We should probably get back to preparing dinner, yeah?" He asked. With a pout, you nodded.

"Right." You said, remembering the poor vegetables that still needed cutting.

Before you turned your attention back on cutting vegetables though, you stepped back and took in Leon's now messy hair after your fingers had run through the strands a million times, giggling to yourself quietly. It looked like a cute little bird's nest.

"God, I am going to be all over you." You muttered under your breath. But your boyfriend's trained government agent ears picked up on your words.

"Aren't you always all over me already?" He replied, teasingly.

You added the chopped vegetables into a boiling pot as you responded. "Well, yes. But even more now. Watch out." You threw a wink his way, and Leon just rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight the fond smile from taking over his lips.

Eventually, the two of you got back into the tranquility of cooking, moving around each other almost as if dancing in harmony, a comfortable quietness filling the kitchen. At some point, though, when the food was simmering and you began cleaning up the kitchen, Leon had left for a moment. You didn't think anything of it, assuming he just needed to be off of his feet for a bit.

But then he came back, his silky blonde hair pulled into a small ponytail, some of the more disobedient strands framing his face in the most endearing way. You were wiping the counter when you suddenly froze, your face feeling as warm as the pot of stew on the stove as you shamelessly ogled at your boyfriend's good looks.

Leon sensed your staring, quickly meeting your gaze. "Something on your mind?" He asked playfully.

You wanted to throw your wash cloth at his ridiculously charming face. "Leon. You look so adorable right now. I'm going to explode."

Leon chuckled. "Please, don't. The counter will get dirty again."

You walked over to him, hitting him gently with the washcloth still in your hand before surprising him with a chaste kiss against his lips.

Eventually, dinner was served, and after the two of you ate, it was about time for bed. You both did your usual nightly routines before jumping into your shared bed, holding each other close. Leon was usually the big spoon, as per your request on most nights, but you weren't passing up the opportunity to hold his head close to your chest and to run your fingers through his soft strands.

Leon hummed contentedly, and it was so quiet you almost didn't catch it; but you did, and the sound instantly brought a smile to your face.

"That feels nice, sweetheart." He said lazily, as he was very obviously trying to fight sleep.

This man will be the death of me, you thought.

"It does?" You asked. Leon nodded.

"Mhmm." Was all he replied with, melting into your touch once more.

Some silence passed, the two of you on the very edge of being pulled into the embrace of a deep slumber, but not for long as you expressed one more thought that had entered your mind.

"You know, with your hair this length, I got some style ideas…"

"Oh yeah?" Leon replied groggily.

"Yeah. I have to see you in pigtails."

Leon's half open eyes were now fully open at your comment. A sharp laugh escaped you immediately.

"Leon, please. Do it for me?"

He shook his head, laughing along with you. But the next morning, he let you put his hair into two cute pigtails with a couple of your hairties. And of course, you took photos.

#leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #re4 leon #resident evil 4 #re4make #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff #resident evil fic #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑The sweatshirt

🏁 Pairings : Charles Leclerc X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : none! just fluffy times

🏁 Word Count : 1.7k words (1792 words)

🏁 Author's note : First post! Hopefully you all like it. I am definetly thinking of new things to write so I pray that ya'll look forward to them! Make sure to lilke and reblog (anything is appreciated, but comments and reblogs fuel this sad little writer). Also, peep the word dividers (lana del ray coded) by @plum98! Note that all translations are avaible at the end, via radio comm! Thank you <3

🏁 Music player : The bones by Maren Morris & Hozier

“Mon amour, have you seen my sweatshirt?” Your fiancé’s voice rung throughout your shared apartment as you stacked the damp plates into the washing machine. The odd clunking of you organising dishes continued as he rushed out of the bedroom passing by the kitchen, where you worked, and towards his office.

“Which one?” You called back, drying your hands on the pale green washcloth that hung from the fitted hook above the sink, the new one! “No, I haven’t seen it, baby, you come back with new sweatshirts every week, just wear another one?” You offered helpfully, bending down towards the indented shelfs within the breakfast bar to grab new hand towels, wanting to replace the one’s that hung, used and abused in the bathrooms.

“But that one is important.” A worrying thud emitted from the home office, which was soon followed by a deep groan from Charles.

You hummed in support, stacking the fluffy white towels in your hands, “Why is it so important?” because! “Because what?” Leaning down to the scented fabric in your grasp, you take a large breath in, enjoying the strawberry scent that emitted from them.

“It just is,” He whined in reply, emerging from the room he had left in disarray whilst rubbing the back of his head, hissing as he pulled his fingers back to check for blood, “Why is my desk so low?”

“I don’t know my love, I warned you when you had bought it in the first place,” You scurry away from the kitchen, wanting to avoid his assessing gaze, lest he find out where his new sweatshirt really was, “Aren’t you just going to Max’s place? Why do you need it?”

“Because he wanted to see- hey...” He cuts himself off with a suspicious lilt in his voice, you try to speed up your efforts seeing the glinting metallic handle of the bathroom waiting for you to escape into, “Amour...” His voice is accusatory but amused, as if he appreciates your efforts to evade him.

“What? Charles I really need to get the chores done; I only have this weekend.” You turn around slowly and watch him approach you, his eyes crinkled with affection. Busted.

“Baby, why do you have my new sweatshirt?” He reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your cheek, caressing it with the pad of his thumb.

“’Cause,” You mumble, fiddling with the tag of one of the towels cradled on your chest, “It’s nice,” You shrug, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Even after six years, you found in hard to admit such things to Charles, despite his kind eyes and cute dimples. Emotional affection was hard to extract from your dark, stony heart, so such pitiful attempts at it, such as stealing his sweatshirt and admitting why you did it, was completely out of the question.

“it’s nice?” He cocks his head, like a small puppy waiting for a treat, “I still need it baby, you can have any other one of mine,” He smiles kindly at you, eyebrow arching sympathetically when he feels you bite on the inside of your cheek.

“Of course, amour,” You clear your throat, pushing the stack of toiletries into his chest, before writhing out of the sweater and pulling it over your head, not caring if more odd chunks of your hair had fallen out of the claw clip you had carelessly attached to the strands, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mon ange,” He chuckles when you huff and swap out the items in his hands for the sweater, “I’ll be back in an hour or so, d'accord?” He slips on the article, pulling at the sleeves and adjusting the hood, then taking your face in his palms once again to pull you closer and press his lips against your forehead.

You hum, leaning into his touch, “À toute à l'heure,” You mutter, twisting your head so that you can peck the inside of his hand.

Truthfully, you wanted to jump on his back and order that he take you with him, not wanting to feel the absence of his sunny presence. But you were aware how much he valued his time with his friends, despite his many objections to your conclusion, so reluctantly you waited until you heard the muted click of the electronic lock of the front door before you continued to re-set your beloved home.

“Je suis à la maison mon amour!” Charles calls out, toeing off his shoes by the door before walking further into the apartment.

“I’m over here!” You call out from your own office, the door slightly ajar, you hear him hum before the tell-tale squeak of the hinges to the foyer bathroom screeches through the hallway, followed by the kitchen tap running. Soon enough, he stepped into the carpeted area of your office, setting down the tall glass of water and a singular pill.

“For your headache mon ange,” He came behind your chair, resting his chin on your shoulder whilst running his hand through your damp hair.

Though to most, it would seem that Charles was being your lovable drug dealer, always managing to drop the singular brightly coloured pill to the side of you whilst petting your head wistfully. When in fact, he knew that after an hour or two of working, your temples would begin to throb mercilessly and you required your prescription, that many were not aware of.

You relaxed in his embrace, your once pin straight spine became slack and your clenched jaw felt numb with his attention, “Thank you, baby.” You twisted your neck, pressing your lips against the scruff on his cheek.

“Are you wearing another one of my sweaters?” He asked, pulling away to rotate your spinning chair so that he could step back and asses your outfit, long black flare leggings with another one of his sweaters. This one, he had ordered from a fan’s etsy account, a large grey body with a small, illustrated version of this season’s current car along with his autograph and name, printed below it.

“You said that I could,” You mumbled inwardly, pulling at the long drawstring that lay on your chest, “I’m not taking it off,” You pouted, tucking your knees beneath fabric so that only your head and red painted toes were visible from beneath the hem.

“And you don’t have to,” He pinched your cheek adoringly, coming to his knees in front of you, so that you were looking down at him from your “dough-ball” position, “But I had bought you a matching one to this, wouldn’t it be easier to just, wear that one? Juste?”

You pushed your mouth into the collar of your sweatshirt, your answer muffled by the thick fabric.

“What was the ange?” Charlese brings his ear closer to your mouth, or what would be your mouth if you would bring it out of your clothes.

“Smells like you…” You admit, eyes wide and unblinking as you wait for Charles to pull away, most likely thinking that you’re weird.

“It does?” He moves his head lower, sniffing the hoodie, “I don’t think so?”

“Yeah, well obviously you don’t think so!” You exclaim, allowing your legs to fall out of the hoodie and popping your mouth out once again. He widens his eyes at your outburst, taking in your teary lashes and wobbling lip, “Baby...”

“I only wear your stuff because I know that you’re busy…” You admit, looking away from his annoyingly understanding expression, “I’m not your only priority and this way-“ you move your arms up, showing off the baggy attire, “I can be close to you even when you don’t necessarily want to be close to me.” You conclude, wrapping your oversized arms around your torso, “And for the record, you smell like caramel and copper.” You add haughtily, up turning your nose.

“Really?” He asks innocently. You nod, one choppy movement before you harrumph and look away from his entertained face.

“Baby. you’re right, you aren’t my only priority. But you’re my first priority. And who said I don’t want to be with you?” He pats your knee, signalling for you to stand so that he can wrap his hands around your waist, pulling you into his chest, “I love you, my baby, and I’m sorry that you had to resort to wearing my clothes instead of just asking me to stay with you.” He kisses the crown of your head, inhaling the pungent smell of your cranberry conditioner.

“I don’t want you to feel bad!” You pull away from him, scrunching your nose at his guilty expression, “I like your clothes, they’re comfortable and I can’t possibly ask you to stay with me 24/7?”

“You can!” He insists, squeezing you ardently, “You’re my fiancé, and about to be my wife, you’re meant to be able to ask me. Because I will always say yes. No matter what.”

“Charles...”

“Amour” He mimics your scolding tone.

“You’re so busy my love, I can’t do that.” You nuzzle your head into his chest, making him laugh at your antics.

“You can-“ He takes your cheeks in his hands, squeezing them together so that your lips pucker comically, he leans down to leave a wet kiss on your lips, “-and if I don’t get such demands from you, I will be very sad.” He pouts down at you.

You sigh, “hmkay.” You manage to speak through your forced pucker, furrowing your brows with concentration. You knew he was merely humouring you, cajoling you like a child so that you would do as he asked, but hey, it was a good enough reason to do exactly what you wanted.

“Mia dolce bambina, così adorabile, non vedo l'ora che tu diventi mia moglie, forse allora non ti sentirai in colpa per avermi dedicato il mio tempo.” He continues to press his lips against yours, making you giggle.

“charmles, too much ithalian,” You lisp through your cheeks whilst squeezing your eyes together, accepting his affection happily.

“Too much Italian? In quale altro modo potrei dirti quanto voglio che tu occupi tutto il mio tempo senza che tu ti allontani da me? Mia timida bambolina, continuerò a ricoprirti del mio amore finché non potrai accettarlo in abbondanza."He grins at you cheekily, watching as you translate it slowly in your mind.

“Babe...” You whine, managing to wriggle free from his grip on your cheeks to hide your face in the crook of his neck whilst wrapping your forearms around him.

“You can have all of my sweatshirts baby, and all of me” He whispers, raking his hands through your hair.

“I love you,” You breathe out in reply, kissing the skin on his neck.

“I love you too.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...french....to english....over

Mon amour - My love

Amour - love

Mon Ange - my angel

d’accord - All right

À toute à l'heure - See you later

je suis à la maison, mon amour - I’m home, my love

Juste - Right

📻 Kchh...italian....to english....over

Mia dolce bambina, così adorabile, non vedo l'ora che tu diventi mia moglie, forse allora non ti sentirai in colpa per avermi dedicato il mio tempo. - My sweet little girl, so adorable, I can't wait for you to become my wife, maybe then you won't feel guilty for taking up my time.

In quale altro modo potrei dirti quanto voglio che tu occupi tutto il mio tempo senza che tu ti allontani da me? Mia timida bambolina, continuerò a ricoprirti del mio amore finché non potrai accettarlo in abbondanza.  - How else could I tell you how much I want you to take up all my time without you shying away from me? My shy little doll, I will continue to shower you with my love until you can accept it in abundance.

📻 Kchhhhh.loosing sign....al.....kcchh....over and out...

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x you #f1blr #Spotify #[darlingwrites]

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: Y'ALL the way my jaw literally DROPPED when not even H A L F a minute after I posted the first part, you guys were already exploding my notifs which I wasn't expecting AT ALL I swear Oscar Isaac's really got us sluts in a chokehold O_o

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ This is truly wonderful and encourages me a lot, especially since this is my first ever Moon Knight fic AND the first time a story of mine blew up this much! This is also great cuz I've been terribly sick, but of course ✨️priorities✨️ I gotta shower our Moon Boys with some much deserved lovin' and it's just so fucking nice to see that it's paying off! \(^o^)/ I was so happy and inspired that I couldn't resist and just HAD to write this second part ASAP!

Dissociative identity disorder is also briefly mentioned here and if I made any mistakes, then I apologize and please kindly correct me. And I feel like the ending may be a bit rushed, but it's the best my tiny brain could think of!

I'll shut up now and I'm very proud and excited to present... PART 2!!! 🥳 And if you'd like to be tagged for any of the next parts, feel free to tell me!

Also Marc does something very asshole-y here oop

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland

Part 2: You made me feel I've nothing to hide

After work, instead of heading home, you rushed straight to the nearest boutique to buy yourself a new dress for tomorrow night. The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults and you felt as if you could spontaneously burst into song like in those cheesy musicals your former college roommate was so obsessed with.

You knew the employees were all looking at you oddly as you constantly giggled to yourself like some lovesick schoolgirl while you perused through endless racks of the latest fashion. Of course you knew you were acting ridiculous--crazy--but wasn't that what attraction or, dare you say, love did to you?

Besides, you wanted tomorrow to go perfectly. In your eyes, Steven Grant was already perfect--perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, you didn't know or care which was which. You just knew that you liked him. A lot.

And it relieved and pleased you to the moon and back that he actually felt the same! So, who cares what anyone else thought?

You just hoped that after tomorrow, Steven would like you enough to go on another date. And another. Then another...

Maybe you were looking--wishing--too far into the future, but you swore you could almost hear wedding bells chiming in the distance.

God, is this what happens after being a total virgin for twenty-something years? There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, but your insecurity bugged you. What if you weren't at all what Steven expected?

But another part of you, a positive ray of sunshine, clobbered all your doubts. For once, you were going to be brave! You were going to take a leap of faith! You were going to control your life!

Because, in the end...it was worth it. Steven was worth it. Sure, you've experienced various crushes throughout your life, but not like this. Not with Steven. This felt more...serious. Adult.

It felt as if right from the get-go crossing fates with "Steven with a V", your life was about to change--for the better.

Of course you were afraid, and yet you've also never been more sure of something in your entire existence. You've been waiting this long and you're glad you did, and now you were ready to jump head first (and head over heels) into whatever adventure was in store for you--with Steven.

You then squealed excitedly when you spotted the perfect dress, ignoring the judgmental stares other customers shot you as you hurriedly grabbed it like a child in a toy store.

Yes, tomorrow was going to be a dream come true.

♡•••🌙•••♡

You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. It was totally embarrassing how eager you were, but you couldn't help yourself. Though at least with how early you were, you snagged a good table overlooking the restaurant's beautiful back garden strung with fairy lights and you can have some time to calm down before Steven came.

And you looked stunning. Your hair tumbled down in elegant waves, light makeup adoring your face and donning the contact lenses you rarely used. And the dress you bought fit like a glove; it was the shortest dress you now owned, stopping around your thighs. It was baby blue and had an off-the-shoulder style with some frills, and it hugged your figure just right.

You felt very self-conscious. You've always fancied clothes like this, but never actually had the guts to wear them--until now. Did it really suit you? But you couldn't deny that you were happy and, truly, isn't that all that mattered?

"Shall I get you started, ma'am?" A waitress snapped you back to reality and you shook your head.

"Not yet, thank you. I'm still waiting for my...date." The word made you blush furiously, as if sharing a dirty little secret.

The waitress smiled and nodded, leaving you by yourself once more as you sighed wistfully.

You took out your phone from your purse, checking the time. 6:45 p.m. Alright, not too long now. And you double checked that the address you texted Steven was correct, which it is.

You settled back in your chair, peering over the garden and giggling softly.

"I'm right here for you, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

"It's about time, innit?" Steven murmured, glancing over anxiously at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time. It was already eight p.m., a whole hour past your meeting time (not to mention he arrived embarrassingly early). And he was just informed by one of the servers that the restaurant was closing in thirty minutes, to which a pitiful look was also casted to him.

"It's not 'about time', Steven. It's late." Marc gruffly pointed out, Steven seeing Marc's reflection glaring back at him from the shiny silver flower vase set in the middle of the table. "Face it: she's NOT coming."

"Don't you dare say that." Steven's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a certain edge to it that one would normally not hear from the soft man. "Y/N would never do that. Not her. She's just running late, I'm sure. Traffic and all."

"Oh, please, we both know that even the traffic here doesn't take this long." Marc scoffed. "Stop kidding yourself, Steven. She's. NOT. Coming."

Steven frowned, and with a shaky hand he pulled out his phone. He should've called you since way earlier. It was the logical thing to do, after all. But he was...scared. Scared that, maybe, a terrifying maybe, Marc was right.

He found your number and called you, pressing his phone to his ear as it began to ring. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until you finally picked up, voice groggy.

"Hello..?"

"Y/N..." Steven heaved a relieved exhale. "Hey, uh, I'm at the restaurant. Guess you got stuck in traffic?" He chuckled halfheartedly.

A long, dreadful pause. And then:

"Fucking EXCUSE me?"

Steven's eyes widened, having never heard you swear before. He was just about to ask what was wrong when you continued without skipping a beat.

"Are you playing with me, Steven? Is this what it is?!" You definitely sounded angry, but he didn't miss the faint sniffles coming from you. Shit, were you crying? What the hell was happening?

"How can you be such a...such a DICK?!" You shouted, causing him to jerk his phone a few inches away from his ear. "I fucking waited for you like a total idiot until closing time, you prick! You never showed and you never answered my calls! What the fuck can you POSSIBLY gain from toying with me, huh?!"

"W-Wait, I don't understand!" Steven was nearly hyperventilating, all the colour draining from his face and his mind running a mile a minute. "I-I'm here! Right now! D-Didn't we agree? Friday night, seven p.m.?"

You were dead silent. Steven was going to check if the call was still connected when you beat him to it.

"Steven... It's Sunday."

Steven froze. Then his eyes landed on Marc's reflection, refusing to meet his gaze and it clicked.

"Y/N." Steven said slowly, steadily, despite feeling like crying himself. His eyes were still on Marc, cold and pissed. "Please. I promise I have an explanation. I just... God, can we meet? Y/N, please, I'll come to you."

"No need." Tears threatened to spill from Steven's despondent eyes at your flat response, before you suddenly added: "I'll come to you. You said you were at the restaurant, right? Stay there."

You ended the call, and Steven flared at Marc--no longer caring if other people perceived him as a lunatic fighting with himself.

"Why the fuck would you do that, Marc?"

"Steven..." Marc struggled to find the right words, and the asshole actually had the audacity to look ashamed. "Listen, she's nothing but a distraction--"

"You always think you know better, yeah?" Steven laughed humourlessly. "A distraction? YOU stop kidding yourself, Marc. This is not just your life, but mine. And it's about fucking time you stop being such a selfish bastard!"

"Um, sir?" Steven winced, greeted by a baffled waiter. "We'll be closing soon, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave if you're not ordering anything."

Humiliated and repeatedly babbling apologies, Steven abruptly sprang out of his chair and dashed outside. He sighed deeply and collapsed listlessly on the ground, finally allowing the tears to fall.

He vaguely heard footsteps approaching until he saw a pair of worn bunny slippers in front of him. His eyes heavily dragged upwards, finding you staring back at him with an unreadable expression and breaths coming out in ragged pants.

"Y/N!" Steven jumped up, surprised you actually came despite the way he--the way Marc--treated you. Your bloodshot eyes and the dried tears on your cheeks only made him feel even shittier, much more fucked up than any beating he suffers on a mission.

Because at least with those, he can be confident that he and the boys would win no matter the challenge. But with you?

He had everything to lose.

Your hair was a total mess; glasses slightly crooked and you were in your pyjamas, a matching set of a purple tank top and shorts with stars and moons. The only thing you had covering you was a purple silk robe, drawing it closer to your chilly body as your eyes narrowed at Steven.

You should be mad at him, and you were. Still, despite everything, you hopped on to the first bus you saw and scrambled the rest of the way here as fast as you could.

But now that you were here...what in Khonshu's name were you going to do? You could scream at him with all the pain you haven't had the pleasure to release like you did on the phone, but you'd just be wasting your breath. Then again, he wasn't lying. He really is here. And it confused you more than anything.

And seeing him like this, looking so...sad. Well, it made you sad. Him miserably clenching onto a heart shaped chocolate box, fat globs of tears cascading down his cheeks as he gawked at you with his pretty doe brown eyes.

You raised your hand, and Steven shut his eyes as he braced himself for the slap he very much deserved--only to be met with your soft palm, wiping away his tears tenderly.

"Explain to me, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

The travel to Steven's apartment was spent in deafening silence, but it brought upon a strange sort of comfort. Unconsciously, you hugged Steven's black jacket that he had offered you earlier even closer to your much smaller frame. It soothed your nerves, being completely enveloped in his smell; fresh soap with a hint of musky cologne.

Once you reached his unit, you couldn't help but smile. It was just so...Steven. It was a bit messy, but a good kind of messy. You didn't really know how to describe it, but it warmed your heart especially when you saw a giant fish tank with only one goldfish.

"Cuppa tea?" Steven asked to which you shook your head, facing him fully.

"No. I'm a 'get over it' kinda girl so whatever your explanation is, I'd rather we just nip it in the bud." You huffed before you halted, biting your lip. "Oh, uh, sorry... Of course, if you wanna have tea, you can. It's your home, after all."

Steven laughed, his first real laugh that entire day. "Are you always this nice to blokes you should be mad at?"

"Only if they are really into Egyptology and have beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous curls." You rolled your eyes though you couldn't suppress your grin before you cleared your throat, getting a hold of your stupid giddy self. "Now, explain."

Steven's demeanour instantly shifted, serious now and quite uneasy. But he nodded and gestured towards the couch. You walked over and plopped down, Steven sitting next to you and keeping a respectful couple inches between the two of you.

He looked down at the ground, carefully considering his words before meeting your gaze solemnly. "Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" You nodded, previously learning about it in Psychology class and researching about it due to personal interest. "That's...what I have. I'm an alter within a system, and there are two others--Marc Spector and Jake Lockley."

"Am I correct to assume that when you asked me out...it wasn't actually you?"

Steven blinked, rather startled that you were taking this so well. "Yes. Jake was the one who asked you out."

"Was he also the one who didn't show up for the date?"

"No, that would be Marc." He grumbled. "And listen, I'm truly sorry about him. He's a right twit. It may not have been me who didn't show up, but that absolutely doesn't excuse the hurt it caused you. I am so, so sorry, Y/N."

Your brows furrowed, mulling over this new revelation. But...you believed him, especially when it explained all those times you secretly caught Steven muttering incoherently to himself or staring at his reflection and quietly reacting to something. You were curious about more, of course, but Steven didn't have any reason to lie about such a serious matter. And if he was lying, there were plenty of other things he could say. But the way he acted, and just the look in his eyes--he knew the risks of opening up to you, but he did it anyway.

You clasped his hands in yours, sighing. "I know I look calm right now, but trust me, I'm freaking the fuck out." You chuckled, and Steven felt safe enough to join you. "But... I trust you, Steven. And I believe you. Tell me one thing, though. Are you...into me? Like, at all?"

"Of course I am!" He replied in a flash, making you both pause before erupting into easy laughter. "Why would you even have to ask that, love?"

"It's just... Well, if Jake was the one who asked me out, it made me wonder if you really did like me." You mumbled, looking away.

Steven gently grasped your chin, tipping your face back towards him. "I've liked you since the day we met, Y/N. In your pink skirt and the cute little pigtails you had." He smiled, eyes so amorous and gleaming with sincerity. "Truth is, I've wanted to ask you out since forever. I'm just not as...forward as Jake is."

"And that's fine. But hey, we gotta thank him 'cause Lord knows I'd just spiral into a panic attack if I ever made the first move." You chuckled. But it gradually died down as Steven continued to stare at you, and you never thought you would ever have someone look at you the way Steven did; as if you were precious treasure hidden within a sacred tomb.

Slowly, ever so slowly, your body started moving of its own accord. You were leaning closer, closer, closer--a mere breath away from his lips before he piped up.

"I'm also Khonshu's Avatar!"

"Say what?"

"Um, well, you see--" He stammered, mentally slapping himself.

'Don't say anything, Steven.' Marc warned, and it took all of Marc's willpower not to seize control and actually slap Steven.

But it was too late now. Steven already said too much, but he wanted to be honest with you. Utterly so. And since you wanted to nip this in the bud, now was the best time more than anything.

"Erm... You've seen the news, yeah?" He didn't grant you the chance to respond as he rambled. "Masked vigilantes... Moon Knight and Mr. Knight? They're actually...Marc and I."

"Steven, this is--"

"I'll show you, Y/N. I'll summon the suit."

"Summon the soup? What is happening--"

Steven stood up, and a split second later there was a whirl of white. And sure enough, there was none other than one half of the mysterious heroes you've been seeing a lot on the news recently; his glowing white eyes locked with yours, crisp ivory suit and batons clutched tightly in his hands.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in--"

"Handsome..." You blurted out before you can restrain yourself.

"Huh?" Steven blushed underneath the mask, and you were the same as your cheeks tinted crimson. Then you rose from the couch, closing the gap between you two and removing his mask.

His curls stuck every which way and his eyes were as wide as the full moon, making you giggle. "You're so handsome, Steven. And yeah, this is a fucking lot to take in. To be honest, a part of me is still wondering if this is all just a dream." You reached up, caressing the side of his face sweetly and smiling. "But...thank you. Thank you for being honest with me."

His batons dropped to the floor, trembling hands hesitantly settling on your hips. You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he looked down at you, tears once again glistening in his eyes. Happiness, relief, adoration--how can so many exhilarating emotions crash over him all at once?

"Can I be more honest?" He whispered, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes. "I...want you to stay with me."

Your cheeks hurt from how impossibly wide your smile has stretched, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.

"I'm staying whether you like it or not, Steven with a V."

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight Smut #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Marc Spector #Steven Grant Smut #Jake Lockley Smut #Marc Spector Smut #Steven Grant x Reader #Jake Lockley x Reader #Marc Spector x Reader #Steven Grant x Reader Smut #Jake Lockley x Reader Smut #Marc Spector x Reader Smut #Reader x Steven Grant #Reader x Jake Lockley #Reader x Marc Spector #Reader x Steven Grant Smut #Reader x Jake Lockley Smut #Reader x Marc Spector Smut #Oscar Isaac

[rustedhearts]

my funny valentine (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: the hand-written evidence of an affair between high school sweethearts, displaced and reunited after war.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the library

♡ the record store

tags: “darling” used as reader insert name; infidelity; mention of war/violence; darling + steve are 35 at the time these letters are written. the time skip signifies lost letters (as they might, in actuality, get lost over the years)

"you make me smile with my heart...stay little valentine, please stay. each day is valentine's day."

— my funny valentine, ella fitzgerald

May 22nd, 1961

My Darling,

Please excuse this intrusion….I got your address from a neighbor. It was so lovely to see you today. I just couldn’t stand the thought of going one more moment without speaking more to you.

I couldn’t believe you thought me lost to you. Though, I cannot blame you for this train of thought. I was gone so long. It was silly to believe you would have waited all your life. Two years was long enough….I don’t blame you for moving on. But did you need to move to London? My Darling, it’s so far from home. I can excuse the new husband given my absence and its circumstance, but the distance will not do.

Nevertheless, I’m rambling. What I truly wanted to say, what I have longed to say since I boarded that train, and what I have wanted to say all day since seeing you on that wet little park bench in your fur coat….I still love you with all my heart. Is there any chance you still love me, too?

Yours,

Steve Harrington

May 24th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

Of course I still love you. You can imagine how confusing a feeling this is to me. Given the circumstance of a loving, successful husband found after such a long mourning period in which I now ponder the merit of….how could I still love you? It goes against all good graces which that of Almighty God intends for me.

But it doesn’t change the way my heart soars for you. The way it did when I saw you approach from across the pond in that tattered coat you’re still clinging to. Your hair is longer. I find it handsome.

I feel a sting of wrongdoing course through me as I etch these words down. Though I love you, Steve, we must not continue to write. Please tell me once what you endured, and then never more. I must have the answers I went so long without. I am allowing myself this selfishness.

However, when the tale is done, I cannot allow myself the selfishness of going on. My life has altered greatly since our time together, and my duties and responsibilities now lie elsewhere. I hope you can understand.

Sincerely,

Darling

May 30th, 1961

Darling girl,

I will begin first by disregarding the words that pierced me so. I will find it difficult to post this letter and think of it as the last of mine that you will ever read. Perhaps, by the end of it, you will have changed your mind.

When I left for Germany, it was as though we were thrown to the wolves. Peril and anguish and torment were all we knew. Myself, the men boys I fought with. We were all so young. Eighteen, twenty, the youngest seventeen. I cannot explain to you the horror of watching a young man’s arm blown off.

But you do not want to hear this. You want to hear of matters obtaining to you, of course. Answers you asked for and answers you shall retain. You’ve waited long enough.

When I returned to America two months after D-Day, I was bodily unscathed but no longer the man you knew. I found myself bound to fits of emotional and physical violence. Days of hysteria and madness that alarmed even my hostess. I was in no fit state to see you. I was, as well, thousands of miles away in California. So, when we were told to board for our way home, I did not go.

California was far enough that you could not find me and the man I had become.

My Darling, I wish I had sweeter excuses than these. I wish I could scrawl something of manly note, but…I owe you honesty. This, my sweet dear, is the honest truth. I was a hollow shell of the man you once knew. And I was afraid to return home to you.

Time in California fell like a whirlpool. A year had passed, and then two. By the time I had some handle on my fits, had worked through my madness and set home for you, you were gone. Your mother said ‘off to London,‘ and with a new beau to accompany you. A husband.

Something I was supposed to be.

Where I failed, I suppose he thrived. I hope you are happy, sweet girl.

Please, feel obliged to reply.

Yours still,

Steve

June 12th, 1961

Steve,

You always knew just how to sweeten the bitterness of goodbye. So much sweetness that I grow too sick to move through with it. Alas, that is why I’ve picked up my pen to write again. Curse you, Steve Harrington. You have such hold over me.

Now, I think it only right that I answer the questions you have not asked, but that I know you are curious of. Reggie is my husband, and we met two summers after the end of the war. I went so long pale and sick with grief, thinking I lost you to Heaven. I had come to terms with this, buried any idea that you might come home.

Reggie was a businessman, in town for dealings. He hails from London, which is the swift explanation for my immigration here. Our love was quick and easy, and when he asked me to marry him on our fifth date, I had no reason not to say yes. You were, in the mind of a young girl engaged to a soldier that did not come home, gone. There was no vow or promise being broken.

I would, however, be breaking all promises of honesty under God if I were to say I have not thought of you in these past years.

I feel an indescribable ache for your suffering, and all the suffering of young men in a similar state to yours. I take your words as oath, as I promised to do so many years ago...which is why I can assure that my heart weeps for you so. Not just for your suffering, but for your company. I think it always might.

Might we allow ourselves one more act of selfishness? An act in the park, Sunday afternoon?

Please return soon.

Darling

June 14th, 1961 Darling,

I would be happy to oblige you in the park on Sunday. Will 2:00 do? Though, you were always an admirer of early morning strolls. Perhaps 10? You always did love a bird call.

Every post from you makes my heart soar, Darling. Did you know? The prospect of keeping your company for even a few hours has me yearning for a busy week, if only to keep the impatience at bay. I meant it truly when I wished your happiness. Fondly, Steve

June 15th, 1961

Steve,

Yes, 10:00 will do. I will be there, wearing my fur coat.

Eagerly awaiting,

Darling

June 20th, 1961 My Darling, Oh I cannot scrub my mind free of this torment. Our act of selfishness I knew to be tempting, but now I am delirious. If I thought my need for you was strong before, it is insufferably so now. You were so beautiful in your coat, in your plum dress. The color compliments your skin so well. I have not seen your eyes that closely in years. Only in photographs, that I horde and selfishly admire in the depths of dark nights, have I seen those eyes of late. And now here they were, staring up at me. With such blatant love as they did once before. Yes, my Darling, I saw all of it there. Are we to go on lying to ourselves, saying we're better off? Our time has passed, it has been so long, yes. Yes, I know it. But I know also that I cannot go another day without making up for the time lost between. Darling girl, please be selfish with me. Please live our days selfishly for as long as we might have. Yours, Steve

June 22nd, 1961

Steve,

I pride myself for honesty, so I will satisfy you with my brief agreement. My heart thumped so wildly in the park on Sunday that I thought it might break free from my body. Would you catch it in your hands if it had? Would you crush it? Oh, Steve, it has always belonged to your hands. The love you detected was not an illusion. It never died, not even across the sea.

Yet, what of Reggie? I love him dearly, as well, though maybe never quite like I did you. He is, nevertheless, my husband. We have grown to live such a wonderful life. And yes, we cannot have children, but we are finding ways to fill this void. The void will only grow, I fear, if I continue to be selfish with you. I will find new gaps and black holes in our life together, and I cannot be unhappy in a marriage that is sufficiently content.

Please do not ask this of me. My heart cannot bear to say no.

Yours,

Darling

June 24th, 1961 Darling, I know you are frightened, but might our love be stronger than this fear? Please do not deny me, I might break entirely apart. Do you not see the predicament we are in? To lose so many years, yet find each other in a completely different part of the world from where we were born. Is it not an act of God stringing us together again? One night, my sweet Darling. If not an eternity as we once intended, one night will suffice. Please do not say no. Yours waiting, Steve

June 27th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

I have been awake for days, ailing over your proposal. Know I do not intend to make any decision without a full realization of every consequence. To deny you would leave me with an ache like no other forever plagued on my heart. To accept, I would part ways with the very peace of mind that my marriage is pure of all faults as it is now, and was before you.

Attach the address of your hotel.

Yours,

Darling

June 29th, 1961 Oh my Darling, I believe I read over your words so frequently and at such a swift pace that my eyes are still sore. Attached is the address of my stay, and know I will be waiting no matter the hour. Come as you please, whenever you wish. I will be at the door. To hold you in my arms again is all I can live for in the hours between. Yours, Steve

July 3rd, 1961

Steve,

The loveliest of nights has passed between us, and yet I feel sick with the wrongness of our sheer audacity. Entangled in your arms, wrapped in those cotton sheets just feeling your breath and your flesh as it always was...I cannot think of a better mercy. For our suffering, for our loss. But will I obtain God's forgiveness when the day is to come? For what I have done to Reggie, I think this always a stain on my conscience.

Yet, some sort of delirium has come over me since that night. I seem incapable of clear thinking. If it is stained, let it be stained.

Please write to the attached P.O box from now on. I cannot risk interception, but I cannot risk a silence from you.

My darling Steve, will you stay?

Yours entirely,

Darling

July 5th, 1961 Darling, You cannot fathom how long I have waited to hear these words. Yes, I will stay. Yes, I will be yours, if you shall be mine. The hours allowed to us are the brightest of my days. I will find permanent residence somewhere in traveling distance so long as it allows me proximity to your love. Please come soon. I miss you terribly. Love, Steve

September 19th, 1961 Darling, You were upset last we parted, and my wish to quell your ailing grows stronger by the hour. I have grown to know your marriage and your Reggie as you have told, and I know now he cannot make you happy. I could make you happy, delightfully happy. The children you have always wanted are in our future, I know this is true. Please, change your mind and say yes, and we can have it. The future you crave, the future you deserve. Adventure, and intrigue, and passion that he cannot fathom. I have stared into the depths of your soul, and have bared all parts of my own. Can you say the same of him? Please, my Darling girl. I only think of you. Yours, Steve

September 22nd, 1961

Steve,

It is with aching eyes and a sore, sinking heart that I have prepared this for you. Know the walk to post it felt like a march to the death. In some way, this is death. Part of me, sealed away by your sweet kisses, and tender touches, and all those long hours whispering secrets in the dark. Part of me will always live in these moments, and that part of me has died.

I cannot leave Reggie, and your request of such leaves nowhere for our selfishness to go. We must not go on like this. Not if we are to live full and fulfilling lives without secret and pain. It is too much for one heart to bear. Were we to go on, it would kill me entirely. I must sacrifice a small part to save the whole. Oh, my love, I hope you understand. I hope you can forgive me.

Yours, now and always,

Darling

#rolly! #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader

[becsabillion4]

take it out on me (carmen berzatto x reader)

so this is my first time posting a fic of mine on tumblr since i was 14 and i'm slightly terrified by the formatting but i posted this on ao3 yesterday and someone told me to post here too (<3) so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoy the thought of getting pounded by carmy in the walk-in

pairing : carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary : Carmy is having a terrible service, and you're sure some time in the walk-in will help him cool off (although it gets hotter in there than you might think).

word count : 4,410

tags: SMUT, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, choking, semi-public sex, ending with soft carmy which makes it all okay, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and also this is NOT an advert for safe sex, it is merely a fantasy i have been playing with since my own days as a waitress and carmy has helped me to realise it. also i'm obsessed and i know y'all degenerates won't send help so instead i ask that you send me asks so i can write more about this wonderful man

Disorienting. Overwhelming. Stressful, painful, unrelenting. Burning your hand hard enough for it to stick to the pan, hard enough that you know on the way to the sink it’s too late, that you’ll bear the scar of that mistake for the rest of your life. Knives slicing always so close to your skin, living on the point of pain, focus trained so hard on the blade you can’t even blink. Shouting, screaming, the place could be on fire, and you wouldn’t look up from the art you’re creating. Flames licking at your apron. Beautiful.

Kitchens are the prison and the heart of a chef, and the one at The Bear is currently the pride and the bane of your life. Plating up your one billionth focaccia of the evening as Marcus rushes by holding a tray of cannolis aloft, you try to tune out Sydney shouting instructions to the new servers, trying to drill something, anything, into their panicked, under-developed skulls. 

But none of this worries you. What worries you is the ominous, creeping silence from the station to your right, where you know Carmy is cooking up not only the best food you’ve ever tasted, but an internal storm that is going to be unleashed any, second, now-

“Chefs! Where the fuck is my garnish? Tina, are you dead? ‘Cos you need to wake the fuck back up.”

Tina is already by Carmy’s side with the garnish, but the damage is done. She doesn’t bristle at his words, but shoots you a worried look as she slides by, murmuring, “Sorry, Chefs. Behind.”

Since you started working at The Bear six months back, you’ve witnessed a rare few Carmy outbursts, and you know everyone feels the same way when they happen. It’s like the moment you miss a step on familiar stairs, stomach lurching and fear sweeping through your body. Carmy is this kitchen, and his boiling point is the moment things tend to spin out of control. 

And yet, Tina’s reaction is everyone’s; disappointment in herself, instant forgiveness because she knows Carmy is doing everything he can for this team. Last week, after you and Sydney spent the evening getting wasted on her couch, she’d confessed to you how hard Carmy took his notorious opening night failure, and how he’s been struggling to make up for it since then. And it’s been working; his kindness, patience, and passion for elevating those around him have always outshone the occasional harsh word during service.

But this service is just bad. It’s been bad since 5AM, when you got here to take in the delivery and found out that the grapes needed for the welcome broth had somehow been left off of the order. It’s been bad since Marcus ruined three batches of cannolis in a row, and when Sydney tried to touch his shoulder and ask him what was going on, he stormed out. Since Sydney snapped at Richie for singing Taylor Swift badly during family. The hundred little underlying frissons of tension that normally dissipate as soon as service rolls around have congealed today, like oil in balsamic vinegar, rubbing together but refusing to meld into the team you know everyone can be.

And you know Carmy can feel it. His anger is a physical thing beside you, like standing next to a hot pan with too much oil in it and just waiting for it to start spitting at you. Knowing you have to keep stirring it anyway.

“Four top, two steak, one bucatini, one fish,” Sydney rattles off, and everyone responds “Yes, Chef!” a little too loud.

“Can I get some hands for this focaccia,” you shout through the din, pushing the two boards forward, but nobody responds. “Hands, please, get these off my station before I eat ‘em!” you call, trying to bring some levity to the atmosphere before-

“Hands, fuckin’ hands, Chefs, FUCK!” Carmy explodes, appearing by your side so suddenly you almost jump. His hands hover over the foccacia boards like he wants to adjust something on them, fix something, but you know as well as he does that they’re perfect already.

And of course, this just makes things worse.

Carmy properly looks up for the first time, straightening out of the “chef about to have an aneurysm over plating this fish” posture and into his “everyone here is about to get fucked” pose. “These are good to go, why are we not? Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. Go fuck yourselves-” one of the new waitresses approaches with trembling hands and Carmy pushes the boards at her, disgusted, almost taking them over the edge of the pass, “-all of you, what is the point of any of us being here if nothing is leaving the fucking kitchen!”

“Carm, it’s okay, they’re going out,” you can’t help cutting in, but you should know better than to try to soothe a wild animal. Carmy doesn’t say anything, turns back to plating up his fish, but his beautiful artist’s hands, which you often find yourself trying to draw in the margins of inventory checks, are shaking now. You’ve never seen him this bad. The whole kitchen waits on a knife edge. You glance up, watching the waitress leave with your focaccia, and have a brief but fervent desire to be her as the doors swing her out of this hellhole.

The fish is beautiful as Carmy puts the finishing touches to it. A server steps up to take it as other dishes for the same table coalesce at the front of stations, all elegant, all perfect, all more than worthy of the restaurant’s Michelin star.

Carmy is completely still. Staring. And you know it’s too late.

Plunging his fist down, he crushes the fish into sea-scented pulp. The shells of oysters, hand-selected, crack into broken-mirror shards; the sauce is peppered with shoddy scraps of lobster tail.

It’s still not enough for Carmy, as he picks up the plate and sends it spinning into the back wall, narrowly missing Sweeps’ head. “ Shit, ” Carmy mutters, turning back to his station and searching for more things to destroy. You watch him contemplate the knives, and you can’t stay out of it any longer.

“Carmy. Chef. Carmy,” you say as you reach out to grab his muscled arm, pulling him round to face you. You can feel the tension corded deep under his skin, see the sheen of sweat coating his tattoos. Normally, any skin contact with him sends your brain into overdrive, but you can’t afford to be anything but calm right now.

His eyes are wild, but you watch him steadily, and he watches you straight back. You’re not sure why, but the moment reminds you of how you felt on those rare occasions he invited you and Syd over to brainstorm new recipes in his cramped kitchen. Especially that time Sydney couldn’t make it, and you were midway through describing your idea for a yuzu-infused scallops course to him - “with maybe, like, a garnish of broccoli just absolutely smothered in hollandaise” - when he reached forward, tucked a scrap of hair behind your ear, and the very idea of food whisked straight out of your head - but you still felt hungry. And whilst he’d tried out your broccoli idea over and over again that night, you found yourself blushing every time he passed you a spoon to taste it. 

You never could get that dish right. Every time you thought about it, you couldn’t separate the flavours from the curious look in his eyes, the way he drank in your ideas, absorbed them before he responded, how his eyes tracked every thought that crossed your face.

Now here you are again, staring at that measured, thoughtful man turned savage, and you wonder if you have the guts to do what you’ve been thinking about doing for a while.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you murmur beneath the clatter of plates behind you, just for him. You don’t look away even when you hear something shatter. You move your hand from his arm, up over his shoulder, push your palm into the curve of his neck and hold it there. 

Then you wait, feel his shoulders jumping up and down with his rapid breathing. Wait until he leans into it a little, chasing your solidity, and it’s all the response you need.

“Come with me.” It’s not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Sydney, you got this?” You ask, never taking your eyes from Carmy’s face, worried that if you do, you’ll lose whatever grip you have on him right now.

“Yes, Chef,” she replies, and you feel her edge round the side of Carmy to put another fish on rapid fire. He catches her eye as she passes, and brings his hand up to his chest, rubbing it once in what has become the team’s official way to apologise during service. She responds in kind, and he lets you drag him off the station, past the others shooting him worried looks, straight into the walk-in.

You shut the door carefully, recalling the stories of Carmy’s previous imprisonment. It’s still securely closed, giving you both some calm and privacy to cool off.

Except cooling off is not really what you have in mind.

You turn to see Carmy slumped in the corner, curled in on himself and running his hands through his already-chaotic hair. He stands again suddenly, bracing his hands on the wall behind him as if to remind himself they exist.

“Carmy.”

“Yeah, shit. Sorry, I just need a second. It’s just, I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was thinking about doing something with ceviche, but I couldn’t figure out what fish would work best, and then that sorta spiralled into a panic attack which kept me up whisking eggs for something until three, and then-” You watch his eyes darting over the shelves around him as he talks, and you realise he’s taking stock of what’s there. Even during a full-blown meltdown, he cannot stop working, stop thinking. He starts pacing.

“Carmy,” you say again as you try to catch his eye. He’s staring at some spare T-bones like they’ll explain to him whatever dish he was whisking eggs for last night. Fuck it. You grab his chin, tilt it until he has to look at you.

“D’you know the best way to calm down?”

“Lock yourself in the walk-in for three hours?” He’s trying to relieve some tension, but you have other ideas on how to handle that.

“Sex, Carmy.”

There. You’re terrified that you finally acknowledged it, finally confessed to what you’ve been thinking about for months, but thank God it’s out in the open. You’ve been blushing at his compliments on your food for far too long, ignoring how good he looks in a white tee for even longer. And today has been such a shitshow it can’t possibly get any worse by admitting to this too.

You wait for Carmy to shut it down, laugh it off, maybe even fire you, but he just looks shellshocked. Then again, that is his default look.

“I, um…” He rubs a hand over his forehead, glances up at you almost shyly. “I mean, um. What?”

“Listen, you’re fucking up service. You’re distracted, tired, stressed beyond belief. I want to help you, and I won’t pretend it’s just out of the goodness of my own heart. I’ve been interested in you for a while, Carmy. You can take that or leave it or kick me out of this walk-in if you want, but I’m here. I want to help you work through things, through all this anger. And…I want you to know you can take it out on me. And maybe even feel better at the same time.”

Carmy is flushed, and you’re all out of words. You kind of wish he was still looking at the T-bones.

“We, uh, we can’t.” Carmy leans back on a freezer for support, crossing his arms in a pose you normally associate with him working something out in his head, deciding what a dish is missing or what it needs to take it up a notch. “I mean, not now. Not here, at least. And I don’t know, we work together. I’m your boss. It’s not a good idea.” He reaches a hand round to his back, starts massaging the strain away there. It’s an especially effective position as he doesn’t have to look at you as he does it, as he says, “Sorry.”

You shrug a little, smile. Try to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Keep it professional, or as professional as you can get in a kitchen. “Hey, it was worth a shot. Get some sleep, Chef.”

You turn to go, hoping that stirring and slicing and plating up will shake off the embarrassment currently burning through to your bones.

But you don’t live to regret the offer as Carmy grabs your arm, spins you and shoves you hard enough into the walk-in door that it rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, everything okay in there Chefs?” you hear Marcus call, and it’s a reality check you absolutely don’t want right now. Carmy doesn’t even seem to have heard him, trailing kisses down your neck, collarbone, shoulder as your body arches into the feeling. You’ve had one too many fantasies about this walk-in since you started, but the actual feeling doesn’t begin to touch the dream.

“Yeah, all good Chef!” You manage to reply, but you barely get the ‘Chef’ out before Carmy’s lips slide over yours, pushing, demanding entry as his body keeps you pressed up against the door. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, is all you have time to think between kisses.

There is no room or time for playing around. Carmy needs this, and you intend to provide, but you’re damn sure getting everything you can out of it just in case it never happens again. One of your hands curls deep into his hair, pulling his head back as your teeth click together in the ferocity of the kiss. You swear you can taste blood, but neither one of you pulls back, the saltiness only urging you on. Your other hand is busy loosening his belt, and you tug it hard to pull the silver prong free of the leather, hard enough that his hips jerk forward into yours and you moan, long and low.

Gravity suddenly spins on its axis as Carmy lifts you, turns and drops you down onto the freezer Fak installed last week. And for once in your life, thank you, Fak. The movement seems to shake Carmy out of it for a second, and he pulls back, hesitates. A hand curves around your cheek, and you can feel an apology coming, see the reticence forming in his eyes. And honestly, fuck that.

You hook fingers through his belt loops, dragging him closer and then using them to tug his trousers down. You’re not gentle as you reach into his underwear, wrap a hand around his cock, and you can tell that’s what he needs as he hisses, his head drifting back.

Removing his hand from your cheek, you guide it slowly down to your neck. His head snaps up, and there’s a darkness, a need, that wasn’t there before as you move your hand slowly, torturously, down his length.

“Hey,” you whisper, reluctant to interrupt the low grunts spilling from him with each of your movements. “I’m not going to break.”

You squeeze his fingers around your throat a little tighter, and it’s this that has him surging forward, messy mouths pressing together again and everything condensing into a rippling, burning, rightness as the fingers of his other hand shove themselves between your legs.

He lingers there for a moment, breaths short and sharp in your ear as he breaks free from your kiss and whispers, “If we had more time, I would clean up the mess you’re making all over my freezer, Chef.”

“My apologies, Chef,” you pant, the sweetness of the apology marred slightly by your fingers tugging hard through his curls. Then you’re pushing up his white shirt at the back, reveling in the heat of him, the muscles straining under your touch. “What’s my punishment?”

Carmy hesitates, then withdraws his fingers from you slowly, and it feels like the calm before the storm. One hand is still pressed loosely around your neck as he brings the other up to your face, runs the edge of his still-wet fingers over your lips. Asking or demanding, you don’t know, but you’re happy to comply. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue behind them, and when you slide your mouth over his fingers, taste yourself on him, he closes them in momentary bliss. And it’s so beautiful to see that you can’t resist pulling him in to share.

A Michelin-star chef with one of the most sophisticated palates on the planet. A renowned food critic once wrote of him, “In my next life, I’d like to be just one of the taste buds in Carmen Berzatto’s mouth.” And here he is, savouring you, tongue searching out every corner of your mouth as if he wants to figure out each and every component of your taste. Add the recipe of you to his menu, and make it every night.

You’re both done waiting, and the clock is ticking. You can faintly hear Sydney calling orders through the wall, although she sounds steadier now. You don’t know whether anyone out there knows what you’re doing, but a rampaging elephant couldn’t stop Sydney when she’s on a roll.

Carmy pulls you closer to the freezer’s edge, jeans and underwear falling to his ankles and suddenly he is right there, and-

“Oh, fuck,” is all you can say as he pushes forward in one swift, animal movement. And oh, pain flickers down your spine as he slides almost free of you and thrusts back, relentless, and this is exactly what you signed up for.

“ Fuck ,” he echoes, hand sliding down your neck to settle over your racing heart. “Fuck, you…I don’t know how you do this to me,” he pants, and you try to keep your moaning down so you can hear as words spill from him, “When you come in with your hair down before a shift, when you - ah - when you borrow my knife and I see you using it all service, when you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. Shit. You drive me crazy on purpose, and you wanna know what the worst part is?”

You can’t breathe, let alone answer him.

“The worst part is I eat that shit up every time, ” he snarls, punctuating every word with a short, sharp thrust.

This is the animal you saw tonight, spitting curses, destroying his own food, all sharp edges and uncompromising will. Grunting as he bottoms out inside you, fingers clenched around your upper thigh hard enough to bruise, littering bites over your neck as if your colleagues aren’t an unlocked door away.

But the animal isn’t the end of Carmen Berzatto. There is more to him than the bear, and you intend to remind him of that before you’re through.

“Look around you,” you pant as he thrusts again, harder, sweeter, and you have to get this out before you tip over the edge. So you risk bringing the hand you were using to support yourself forward to turn his chin towards the walk-in’s walls, to beyond them, to the restaurant hard at work and the satisfied diners metres away who have no idea what’s going on in here, and fuck if that doesn’t make it all the more delicious. “Look what you made. Look who you are.” You watch his flushed face, hope he understands the praise, but you can’t hold on anymore to see your words land.

“You’re fuckin’ unbelievable, Carmy,” is all you manage to choke out as every muscle in your body lights up, tenses and releases in a flood so strong you wonder if you’ll ever surface, and if you even want to.

Carmy fucks forward into you twice more, and his head drops onto your shoulder as he groans, shudders, relaxes fully for what may be the first time in his life.

You stroke a hand over his head, pull him closer. You’re not quite sure when this stopped being a no-holds-barred quickie and became a quiet, intense embrace, but it feels right. All the desperation, the keyed-up energy, is gone from him. And if he never wants anything more than that, even though the idea is more than a little disappointing, you can take consolation from the fact that you at least managed to stop a raging Carmy in his tracks.

Although it is a little quiet.

“Carmy?” You ask, hesitant to break the silence. Thankfully, it still sounds like it’s all bustle outside. You wonder how long you’ve been in here, and try not to think about how you’re going to emerge with any shred of dignity intact.

Carmy pulls back, and you can’t define the look on his face, but it worries you. His eyes shine slightly, and his gaze skips across your face, down your body, not holding your stare.

“Are you okay?” You ask, praying this isn’t about to get really awkward really quick. The man’s still inside you, for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah. I, um, I should be asking you that.” Carmy’s hands skim down your sides, fingers pressing in randomly as if to check for bruises. He tilts his head to look under your chin, as if to check he hasn’t caused any permanent damage to your neck. “Jesus. Are you alright? I’m sorry, that was rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” You don’t know what to do to reassure him, so opt for two big thumbs up. “See? Voice working and everything.”

Carmy chuckles unevenly, takes a careful step back, and you try not to consider how empty you feel and how cold and slippery the freezer now is underneath you. You hop off, catching yourself on the side when you realise just how shaky your legs are. When you glance up at Carmy, he’s just staring at you, which is, frankly, unnerving.

“Do I look that bad?” you ask, pulling your hair out of what’s left of a ponytail to start again.

“No. No, I’m just…I’m just taking you in.” The raw honesty in his eyes pins you in place for a moment. But of course, Richie shouts “ Cousin!” before you can read into it too much.

There is a moment of panicked dressing and clean-up, a nod to each other to confirm you both look relatively sane and not totally fucked (even though you doubt it), and then a collective deep breath as you push open the door of the walk-in.

You don’t catch anyone’s eye for a second as you head to your station, Carmy’s presence like an open flame behind you.

“Corner. Corner. Behind, sorry Chefs,” you call as you slide back into place. Two quick glances calm you; one at the clock - seventeen minutes - and one at Sydney, who doesn’t look like she’s about to throw up and only has three tickets in front of her. You spare a final one for Fak in his position by the door, who you are positive would be grinning gleefully if he, or anyone else in the kitchen, knew what just went down in the walk-in.

“What do you need, Syd?” you ask, picking up the familiar back-and-forth of the kitchen again with some relief.

Carmy is quiet, focused, for the last half hour of service, but you can’t keep your mind clear. As soon as last orders are sent out, you slink to the back for a cigarette, hoping the smoke will at least wipe out your brain fog. It does the exact opposite. When you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. You exhale, waving the smoke away as the words churn through your brain. I eat that shit up every time.

“Hey,” you hear, and you’re almost thankful to speak to the real him just to distract yourself from thinking about earlier.

“Hey.” You offer him a smoke, and he takes it, sinking onto the step next to you. The brush of his leg against yours is a lot more comforting than you expect it to be, relaxing a secretly worried part of you.

He takes a long drag, the kind of drag you only take when it’s been a shitshow of a day. “I just want to say I’m-”

“Sorry? It’s okay. It doesn’t have to happen again,” you finish for him. It hurts less that way.

“What? No.” He looks at you until you reluctantly meet his gaze. “Not for that. I’m not sorry about that.” He lets that hang there for a second, holds your eye. “But I’m sorry for losing my shit earlier. Nobody deserves to be around that, and…I want you to know I’m working on it. I wanna be…I wanna be good at this.” It’s a stilted apology as he thinks through every line, and it feels all the more sincere for it.

“That’s okay. I know. We all know.” You reach a hand out to touch his arm, and after a second, he lowers his head to rest on his knee, although his face is still turned towards you. You see his eyes flicker from your hand on his arm to your face.

“Although that wasn’t exactly how I expected that to go by the way,” he says after a moment.

You don’t try to pretend you don’t know what he’s referring to. “What, in the walk-in?”

“Oh, no, I’ve thought about it in the walk-in.” You ignore a pulse of feeling at his casual confession, at the idea that he’s thought about you. “I just didn’t imagine it so…heated, I guess.” Carmy raises his head again, traces a finger along your hand where it rests on his arm until you shiver. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”

You hesitate for a second before replying. Before extending the branch. “Well, I’m sure there’ll be other times, Chef.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and it’s your turn to watch his thoughts flickering there, watch as the fog clears, the idea forms, and he says, “Yeah. Next time.”

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

wow guys thank you for reading i pray through the act of writing this that my jeremy allen white obsession will calm the fuck down, but i fear i've made it worse

if you'd like to keep up with me on ao3, you can find me here and please do send me any comments or feedback or prompt ideas, i would love to hear them <33 thank you!!

#becsabillion #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x ofc #carmy the bear #the bear #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carmen berzatto smut #jeremy allen white #the bear fanfiction

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Hi, and welcome to my Tony Stark Masterlist. It is nice to welcome you to my little corner of Tumblr! 💙

On this Masterlist, you will find all my series, one shots, requests, and AU's that will include fluff, smut, and angst, but each story will have its own appropriate warnings. If you'd like to check out what other characters/people I write for, you can check out my Main Masterlist.

For now, I hope you will have fun with all the things I have written so far! 💙

I do not work with a tag list. If you want to be kept up to date when I post new fanfics, you can follow @nicoline1998enilocin-library 💙

All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

|| 🥀 ~ Angst || 💙 ~ Fluff || 🔥 ~ Smut || Blue title = 1K+ notes ||

A relaxing night at home || 🥀 💙 🔥 You've been going through a bit of a rough patch lately and Tony's caught on, so he wants to do everything in his power to make sure you have a nice, relaxing evening at home. This way you won't have to think about work or any other worries for even a second. He will of course join you, because he could use one of those nights himself, too.

Swinging together || 💙 You have always dreamt of having a porch swing on your porch, and now that you and Tony are moving into your new house, this is the perfect opportunity. He will do everything he can to build it before your baby boy arrives and make your little family complete.

Love by the fire || 💙 🔥 Tony has taken you for a weekend away to a small cabin in the woods where it'll be just you two, and no one around for miles to interrupt either of you. The weather outside is cold, but the atmosphere inside the cabin is almost reaching its boiling point as you two can't keep your hands off each other.

I'll always be by your side || 🥀 💙 What was supposed to be a comfortable, easy Sunday turned into one of the worst as you're caught off guard by your period and in horrible pain. Luckily, your boyfriend, Tony, is by your side the entire time to make you feel better and spoil you absolutely rotten.

Spiked candy || 💙 🔥 You've had a crush on Tony for as long as you can remember, but you didn't know he also has one on you. During his annual Halloween party, he makes a move using a project he's been working on for a long time, and they have precisely the desired effect because you couldn't be happier the morning after. Your dream of being his might finally come true after all.

Together forever || 🥀 💙 🔥 You and Tony have been head over heels in love with one another for as long as you can remember. It isn't until someone is getting injured and nearly loses their life that your feelings come out, and both of you wish you would have shared your feelings sooner, especially after seeing how fragile a human life is.

His innocent assistant || 🔥 || Part 2 || 💙 🔥 [ Part 1 ] Tony's feeling a little needy, and he can't resist asking his sweet, innocent lab assistant for help. You don't like seeing your boss in discomfort, so you're more than happy to help.

[ Part 2 ] Tony enjoys taking you to his parties as his date since he loves to show off his sweet, innocent assistant to everyone willing to hear about you. This time, however, the party doesn't go entirely to plan as he finds you flirting with none other than the God of Mischief himself, and jealousy takes over his entire being.

Everything I ever wanted || 💙 🔥 During your pregnancy, Tony couldn't keep his hands off you, and neither of you could get enough of each other. Now that your twin boys are born, he wants nothing more than to have you pregnant with his babies again, and he'll let you know exactly how he's planning on doing that.

Special assignment || 🔥 You've had a crush on your professor since the first day you followed his classes, but little did you know you didn't precisely escape his mind either. When he asks you to go to his office for a 'special assignment,' you instantly get excited, looking forward to being alone with him.

Mine || 💙 🔥 You've been Tony's PA for many years, and you have both developed feelings for one another over time. When Tony sees you in a beautiful red dress he can't take his eyes off you, and feelings are confessed later that same night. When you spend your first time together it is filled with raw passion, but you wouldn't change it for the world as you're with him.

Mile High Club || 💙🔥 You and Tony have been in a secret relationship for the past seven months, and you're being sent on the first mission for just the two of you since you've become an Avenger. Seeing how the two of you will have nothing but time during the long flight to the other side of the world, he wants nothing more than to make you a part of the Mile High Club.

Warm welcome || 💙 🔥 It promises to be a beautiful night at home with your cat and a rom-com playing on the television when you're surprised by your fiancé, Tony. What was supposed to be a three-week mission turned into a two-week one and a surprise welcome, which you're very grateful for.

Love at first sight || 💙 🔥 Howard and Maria Stark, the current reigning king and queen, are planning on retiring, but they aren't able to until the heir to the throne is married. Their only son, Tony, feels like it isn't the right time for him to get married, nor does he have anyone he would even think about marrying in the first place. This all changes when you walk into his life and turn his entire plan for the future upside down.

Healing Hearts || 🥀 💙 🔥

His innocent assistant || 🥀 💙 🔥 || COMING SOON

The love of my life (Young!Tony Stark) || 🥀 🩵 🔥 || ONGOING

Don't go baking my heart (Baker!Tony Stark) || 🥀 🩵 🔥 || ONGOING

Lips like sugar (Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark) || 🥀 🩵 🔥 || ONGOING

Baby, it's cold outside || 🔥 You've just gotten married to the love of your life, and are currently on your honeymoon in one of the most beautiful countries of the world. The scenery you're looking over is absolutely breathtaking, but your husband is doing everything he can to take that breath away in all different kinds of ways. And of course, there will also be lots of snuggles in front of the big fireplace too.

Touched for the very first time || 🔥 You and Tony have been going steady for a while, and you're finally ready to take the next step in your relationship. Tony wants to make sure your first time will be unforgettable and takes out all the stops to make you feel like the most special and beautiful woman on earth, which you will always be in his eyes.

Nice and round for me || 🔥 || Part 2 || 💙 🔥 [ Part 1 ] You and Tony are enjoying your honeymoon in Switzerland, and you had a little more to drink this particular night than usual. You still can't keep your hands off one another, but when the night gets more heated, a specific kink of Tony's comes to light, and you can't help but indulge him in his biggest fantasy.

[ Part 2 ] The two of you are absolutely in love with each other and your amazing twin boys. The two of them are like angels sent straight from heaven, and now Tony can't wait to make more kids with you. Especially now that he wants a few that are exact copies of you, after having boys that are his carbon copy.

Making a new friend || 💙 You've been dropping hints about adding a little feline friend to your family for a long time, but when it seems Tony doesn't pick up on your hints, you drop the subject altogether. That is until he suddenly shows up with a little ginger cat, just like the one you have told him about all this time.

Like a King || 🥀 💙 🔥 Your husband had a bad day at work, so you decide to treat him like an absolute king. From a nice home cooked meal to a warm bath and a massage, you're pulling out all the stops to make him feel loved and to turn his day around completely.

Falling in love again || 💙 🔥 You've been living abroad for almost a decade, and when you find yourself back in New York, you also find yourself in touch with the man you thought you had said goodbye to forever all those years ago. When the flame reignites, the two of you never let go again and finally live the life you have always dreamt of.

Perfect picnic || 💙 You've been seeing the one and only Tony Stark for the last few months, and you're not ready for the world to know that, so you're enjoying every minute of peace and quiet you two have together. When he invites you for a picnic to discuss something important, you can't help but think about your future together.

Bare it all Part 1 || 💙 🔥 || Part 2 || 💙 🔥 [ Part 1 ] You're on an undercover mission with Tony, and you two have the entire night to yourselves. When you two end up in bed together, you're looking to spice things up a little, much to Tony's surprise. When he finds out your plan, he can't help but fall even more in love with you, and he's not afraid to tell you exactly that.

[ Part 2 ] Your relationship with Tony has been a fairytale, but when you unexpectedly become pregnant with his baby, your entire world is turned upside down. You're not sure how he will react to the news, but you will always have your best friend Natasha by your side, no matter what.

Talk dirty to me || 💙 🔥 You have been asked to interview and shadow Tony for a few months regarding his research in nanotechnology and his life as Iron Man. During this time, the sexual tension builds quickly between you two, and when you can't stop staring at him while he's working, the tension snaps, and you learn about a new kink you never knew you had.

Never grow up || 💙 Your beautiful son came home a few hours ago, and now you witness Tony having a sweet moment with him, making your heart beat faster and filling with love like never before.

Happily Ever After || 🥀 💙 🔥 || COMING SOON

#masterlist #tony stark #iron man

[alicewonderao3]

Making baby Hotchner

Title: Making Baby Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x oc female character.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Jack Hotchner, Derek Morgan (briefly mentioned), oc female character, JJ ( briefly mentioned,) and Emily Prentiss, (briefly mentioned)

Summary: What happens when Jack not so innocently asks his step-mom and dad for a baby brother or sister?

Warnings: 18 plus, there is smut, p in v, office sex, breeding, oral sex (m receiving), minors do not interact, and anything else I missed.

Authors note: So I wrote this for a bingo challenge and am just now getting around to posting it. I am experimenting more with smut in my writing, so, that's new. I'm also feeling like crap, I spent last Friday in the ER and am still feeling like crap. My body hates me, so I decided to post this today. Also, I know the summary sucks, but the general gist is there. I combined the squares office sex and breeding for this one. I'm tagging @the-slumberparty, I know this is late, but here it is. I had no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine. If I missed any tags or warnings, please let me know. Enjoy!

I hadn't thought much about my future until I married Aaron. Marrying Aaron meant that I got a stepson, and I loved taking care of Jack. He was adorable and we'd bonded right away. So while Aaron worked at the BAU and caught bad guys, I stayed home with Jack and took care of him. I took him to school, made his favorite meals and everything. 

I still remember the first time he called me Mama. Aaron was gone on a case and I was picking up Jack from school, waiting with the other moms out front. Those eyes of his, so much like Aaron's, lit up when he saw me, and my heart stopped when a large smile lit up his face as he called out, running towards me, "Mama!" 

He launched himself into my arms, and I hugged him tightly to my chest, barely managing to keep my tears inside as I took him home. Later that night, I passed on the news to Aaron, after I'd put Jack to bed. I was cuddled in our bed, and I said, "He called me mama today, Aaron." I said, my voice soft. I heard Aaron go silent a moment, and then he whispered. "Really? He did?" 

I nodded. "He did. About melted my heart and made me cry. I wasn't sure if it was a fluke or not, you know with all his friends there, but he kept it up when we got back." I settled against the pillows, wiping a tear away. I could hear the grin in Aaron's voice as he said, "Well, he's ready for that. I mean, you are technically his mom, and we had that talk with him last week, remember?" 

I nodded again. Just last week, before Aaron left on this new case, Jack had brought up what he could call me while we ate dinner. He'd asked if it was okay to call me something other than Alice, and Aaron had said it was up to him. I wasn't surprised that he was calling me Mama now after that. Jack knew that Haley was his mom, that I was just someone extra to love on him, and that I'd never take her place. 

Aaron was due home today, and I was waiting to pick up Jack when he came running out with one of his friends, calling me mama and launching himself at me. I scooped him up and hugged him tightly, kissing him as he introduced me to his new friend, Andy. Andy's mom was very nice, and Andy couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to be a big brother. 

Over the next few hours, I saw the wheels in Jack's head turning, and I knew he had something up his sleeve when he waited specifically for Aaron to come home before he said something. Aaron was mid-bite when Jack, without looking up from his mashed potatoes, said, "Daddy, when will you and Mama make me a big brother?" 

I don't know how I kept my chuckle in as Aaron practically almost choked on his chicken. I gently patted his back as he faced Jack, and asked, "A-a big brother?" I saw Jack nod. "Yeah. Andy's gonna be a big brother, why can't I?" Again, I had to fight the smirk that threatened to form over my lips as Aaron's eyes met mine and I gave him a look that clearly said he was on his own. 

Aaron was silent a moment and then I saw his eyes sparkle, and I knew this couldn't be good for me when he said, "Well, I can't make that choice by myself, Jack. Mama has to want to do that too." I saw his eyes sparkle as he poked a bite of chicken on his fork as if to say, 'How's that?' Jack then turned his attention to me, his voice soft and pleading, "Mama?"

I turned to face him, looking into those beautiful brown eyes, so much like his dads, as he asked, in his best pleading voice. "Will you make me a big brother, Mama?" I couldn't help it, and I met Aaron's gaze a moment, enjoying the way he almost choked on his water when I said, "Of course, Jack. A new baby might be nice." 

Jack was gleeful as he finished his dinner and set his plate in the sink, darting off to the living room to play as Aaron met my eyes and said, "Well played, honey." I nodded, taking a bite of chicken. "Yeah, and I'm sure we're gonna have lots of fun making baby Hotchner," I said, as I ran my fingers along his shirt, headed for the sink to clean up from dinner. 

So we started trying, and I started keeping track of my cycles, which meant that there were some days when I knew I was ovulating that I would pounce on Aaron when he got home in a bid to make a baby. 

There were a few hits and misses, but we kept trying. One day in particular, when I knew I was ovulating, I came by the office with lunch for him. Morgan pointed to his office, saying "He's in there. I'd be careful mama, he's in a bad mood." I shook my head, muttering under my breath. "Not for me, he's not, if he knows what's good for him." 

I heard Derek chuckle at my words and I walked in and closed his door as he said. "Whatever it is, just leave it on the desk and go, I'm bu-" I held the plate and raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?" Aaron's eyes snapped up to mine and he sighed when he saw me. "Sorry, hon, I'm busy." 

I nodded, setting the plate on a side table, reaching over to close his blinds, and locked his door. "Busy? I can see that," I said, walking over to him, noting how tense he was as he focused on a file. "I think you need a little stress relief, honey," I said, as I turned his chair, ignoring his protest when I spun him to face me, as I dropped to my knees in front of him, pulling my curls back into a ponytail. 

My fingers nimbly undid his belt buckle as he huffed above me, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. "Alice I don't have time-" But his voice suddenly stopped speaking as I started rubbing him through his briefs, tugging his half-hard cock out and clucking softly, before gently licking the underside of it, then wrapping my lips around his head, sucking gently. 

I heard him groan, his fingers wrapping around my ponytail as I wrapped my lips around his cock again, before sinking to my knees and sucking and moving my head in the pattern he liked, his protesting giving way to soft groans of pleasure. I pulled off and licked him, my other hand moving what I couldn't fit in my mouth, a cheeky grin on my face. "Oh, don't have time for what, baby?" 

I asked him, as his eyes darkened and he stared down at me. "Looks like you need some stress release, Daddy, and I'm all too happy to help you." I cooed, before wrapping my lips around his cock, my head moving up and down as I sucked him, hollowing my cheeks and moaning as his hands reached down all along my body. 

I kept going, teasing him, bringing him to the brink, and then pulling back, slowly watching the thread that was his self-control snap as he finally hauled me up to my feet, his lips finding mine. His voice was dark as he ordered me, "Bend over my desk. Now." I shivered at the command in his tone and did as he instructed, getting a slap on my butt for my earlier sass. 

I felt him push my skirt up over my hips and heard his groan again when he realized I wasn't wearing underwear. I knew he was close, and on the edge, and I wiggled my ass at him, my voice soft but bratty. "Are you gonna stare at my ass or are you gonna fuck me, Daddy?" I asked him, squealing when he smacked my ass again, and I bit my lips when he entered me in one smooth stroke, taking my breath away. 

He took me hard and fast against the desk, his voice dark and teasing as he fucked me senseless. "Oh, not so brave now, are we?" He said, his thrusts even and slow. "I don't know if I should let you cum, after you sassed me so much. What happened to that brat who walked in here and took command? You get one taste of my cock and just go dumb?" 

I couldn't do anything but groan, my fingers clutching his desk as he fucked me. Papers fell off his desk, the wood groaning under my weight as he slowly and steadily fucked me into it. His hand reached around covering my lips, his voice dark in my ear. "Quiet, sweetheart. Do you want the whole office to hear me in here, fucking you dumb?" He asked and I shook my head. "Good, that's a good girl." 

He picked his pace up and I bit my lips to stifle my sounds as he fucked me. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my walls clenching and fluttering around me as I neared my orgasm. "Come on, honey, let me in," Aaron said, as he reached around to rub my clit, sending me over the edge, and I clamped tightly around him as I came, his hand pressed tightly to my lips to keep my sounds inside, as he came inside me, pressing deep into me. 

I was breathing heavily as he sank over me, hauling me upright and placing me on his lap with shaky legs. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice soft." Are you okay, baby?" I nodded. "Oh, yeah," I said as I turned to meet his eyes. "How about you? Feel better?" He nodded. "Thanks." 

He let me up to fix my skirt and shirt and said as he tucked his softening cock back into his slacks. "What brought you to see me?" he asked, and I handed him a plate. "I made you lunch and came to tell you I'm ovulating, but then Derek said you were in a bad mood. So, I helped you feel better and maybe we've finally succeeded in making baby Hotchner." 

I chuckled and he shook his head. "Yeah, and in my office no less." I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, it's one thing off my list." Aaron dug into his plate, raising an eyebrow at me. "Wait, you're telling me you wanted me to fuck you in here?" I nodded. "Why not? Bent over your desk, having to stay quiet as you fuck me senseless? Sounds like the best thing to me, and hey, now that we've done it, maybe we can do it again." I said teasingly, leaning over to kiss him. 

He chuckled and I said, "Alright, I'm gonna go home. I have a few things to do before I go get Jack. I'll see you later. I love you." I said, and he nodded, kissing me again, "Love you too, Alice." He smacked my ass as I left, a warm, wide smile on my face as I left his office. I passed Derek where he was speaking with Emily and JJ and said, "I think you'll find Aaron's in a much better mood now." 

I heard the three chuckle as I walked out. I knew it'd probably take a few more times until we finally made baby Hotchner, but I knew I'd have fun doing it. 

#aaron hotchner 💞 #criminal minds #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x oc female character #navy and roo sleepover

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer's spotlight feature is: @pearynice! With twenty-eight Stranger Things works, they've written twenty-seven fics tagged with Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson!

Nominated by @hotluncheddie, they recommend the following works by peachesandpears:

Talk to Me

Personally

Starched Collars

In your eyes

they are so lovely and so talented!! so many short and sweet pieces - that so often seem to touch and soft squishy part hidden away within me, put a little bandaid on it <3 - @hotluncheddie

Below the cut, @pearynice answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ve always loved the “opposites attract” trope. While Steddie is the first ship I’ve ever seriously written for, in the past this dynamic has always been my go to (ie: destiel lol) but Steddie specifically because I think Stranger Things is a great show with compelling characters, and that Eddie and Steve deserve a happy ending. And for me that happy ending will always have them with each other.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love AUs. Love seeing the little blorbos in as many situations as possible. I love being able to see how writers take what we know about these characters and make it into a whole new story. (But especially a soulmate AU. I loveeee a soulmate AU.)

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I think anyone who follows me can probably guess hurt/ comfort and fluff. I LOVE making these boys suffer and then smooch about it. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

AH okay I will scream about this fic until I’m blue in the face (I actually submitted an ask to this blog about it because I think it’s criminally under-viewed!) it’s As the World Falls Down by daeneryske on Ao3. I read this MONTHS ago and I still think about it all the time. It’s long but god I wish it would never end. I want to tattoo it on the inside of my eyelids.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Yes!! I can’t say much because it’s for my Reverse Big Bang but they both contain tropes I’ve never worked with before and I’m so so excited to be writing both of them!!! I’m already having so much fun! And a goal of mine for 2024 is to broaden my writing horizons a little and explore tropes and topics that I haven’t yet, so I don’t really have any specifically in mind but that is my general plan!

What is your writing process like?

Very chaotic. I almost never write an outline. It’s pure vibes baby. And when I DO write an outline I almost never follow it (whoopsie) I feel like as I write the plot comes to me, and outlines tend to pigeon hole me so I can’t get myself out of writing slumps.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Maybe my overuse of italics?  I also don’t really know how to describe it but sometimes when I’m writing heavy action scenes/ emotional scenes I’ll start and stop sentences before they’re complete sentences. Like: “Steve says nothing. Sits down next to his father and looks over his shoulder.” I don’t know if that’s a writing quirk or not lol but that tends to be how I structure my sentences.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely after I’ve finished. Once I’m on a deadline I psych myself out.

Which fic are you most proud of?

That’s such a hard one, because I think I’m proud of a lot of my fics but for very different reasons. I think if I had to choose, I’d pick Blood of the Covenant. It’s one of my more recent fics, and I had toyed around with a Wayne POV fic for such a long time before writing because I wanted to get it right. It was hard to find his voice but I think in the end I executed it well.  

How did you get the idea for Talk to Me?

Well besties I dunno how personal we want to get here, but the inspo for this fic (and tbh a lot of my hurt/ comfort fics) is just based on my own experiences. Growing up my mom did not have the capacity to tend to the thoughts and emotions of her kids, ergo me pushing that shit into a Steddie fic. Obviously what I wrote as Steve’s experience and mine are not directly parallel, but that is how I got the idea.

When writing Starched Collars, what was something you didn’t expect?

That was my first heavy hurt/comfort fic that I wrote, and I remember being really blown away that people could relate so heavily to Steve’s experiences. I remember I had some comments saying that they felt really comforted seeing their own experiences reflected within Steve, and I just never expected my writing to be able provide that for someone. 

What inspired Personally?

Well, again, we’re getting a little personal (babum tss)- but how I wrote Steve’s mom reacting to him mentioning the sunglasses is definitely how my own mom tends to react when I express any kind of negative emotion around her. In this case it was a lost parking stub instead of sunglasses.

What was your favorite part to write from Talk to Me?

The COMFORT- that’s always my favorite part. Making it better! (Although it is also a little fun leaving the angsty cliffhanger- but I will ALWAYS make my fics have a happy ending.) But also I’m a little in love with the idea I had that Eddie likes to rub on Steve’s stomach until he falls asleep. I thought that wrapped up the story very nicely.

How do/did you feel writing Personally?

It was honestly very therapeutic. I don’t think I’ve ever word-vomited out a fic more rapidly than I did for that one. I wrote that in my notes app in one afternoon, read through it once or twice, and posted. It was a relief to get all of that out in writing, and then even better to see that other people found comfort in what I had written. 

What was the most difficult part of writing Starched Collars?

When I was first drafting the fic I was going to have Starched Collars and In Your Eyes (the kinda sorta sequel) be one in the same. I spent a long time trying to balance the two narratives, before I realized it was just too much to fit into one fic. Having both detracted from the other’s story too much, and eventually I had it just focusing on Steve. I think this was the best move but I spent so long trying to strike that balance before I scrapped it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I don’t know if I can name any one scene or line as explicitly my favorite, but the final scene of Because it’s Steve it’s absolutely a favorite. That whole fic is very special to me because it reflects a lot of my own thoughts/feelings/experiences on being demi, and that final scene is just exactly how I experience my demisexuality. (I’m not sure how long this can be, but I’ll insert the passage here): 

And they’re still in this disgusting bathroom. There’s still a toilet behind Eddie’s knees, but when Steve’s mouth meets his, it doesn’t matter. Because one of Steve’s arms wraps around his middle, his fingers dip into the spaces between his ribs, their chests touch, and it all feels so good. Because it’s Steve. And it’s still Steve who kisses him, still Steve who licks into his mouth, still Steve who nearly sends them both stumbling into the disgusting toilet. And because it’s Steve it’s so funny that Eddie can’t stop laughing, and there’s a blush high on Steve’s cheeks as he tells Eddie to stop it. But then Steve kisses him again. Asks if he wants to go and find Robin and Nancy. If he wants to dance. With him. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

YES. So Because it’s Steve is now a series: Demi/Virgin!Eddie, with all of Eddie’s firsts with Steve. This is very smutty but it’s also like, the sappiest, most disgustingly fluffy smut I’ve ever written. I would say it’s “schmoopy” but I was outed as an Old Lady on Discord because apparently no one uses that word anymore. ALSO- and maybe this is still too far away BUT I am working on TWO Reverse Big Bang pieces and… you guys… my artists are so talented and kind and their brains are so big and so far I’ve gotten along with each of them so well and I am already so excited to post these and we’ve only just begun. I cannot wait until we can make our visions into an entire fic!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add? 

YES- whoever nominated me for this (I don’t know if that’s something they’ll tell me??) THANK YOU- this is so sweet. I feel so honored that someone thought of me as deserving of this. There are so, so many authors you could've chosen and you chose ME! That’s just- insane. Thank you.  And to anyone who has said they found my hurt/ comfort fics relatable in any way, I rain all of the platonic hugs/ forehead kisses/ handshakes/ high fives/ nods of the head upon you. ❤️✨

Thank you to our author, @pearynice, and our nominator, @hotluncheddie! See more of @pearynice's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddie writers #writer's spotlight #pearynice

[telomeke]

Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @lamonnaie at this post here. Thanks for tagging me! 😍 It was such fun to read your responses; now here are mine. 🥰

do you make your bed?

Never ever. I'm pretty messy, and if I don't watch my hoarding tendencies I will morph into the worst pack rat. But I like a bit of clutter around me; I think it helps my creative side since my output (whether at work, or writing on Tumblr) is always tidy and tidied up to a fault, which can stifle creativity (at least that's what I tell myself! 🤣).

what's your favourite number?

Don't have one. However (even though I like to think I'm not superstitious) if I can I'll try to avoid the number 13 and anything with 4 in it...

what is your job?

Not gonna get too specific, but my work involves design, project management and construction.

if you could go back to school, would you?

I was too stressed out at school to want to repeat the experience. But I wouldn't mind a bit of time travel back to advise my younger self not to take things so seriously! 🤣

can you parallel park?

Yes. Not well, but the car will be fully in the lot eventually. 👍

a job you had that would surprise people?

Some minor modeling jobs when I was younger. Hush! I don't like to talk about it. 🤫 You wouldn't think it to look at me now (me 🤝 Ricky Gervais 😂).

do you think aliens are real?

There are too many planets out there for our little blue marble to be the only habitable one, so yes I do think there are aliens out there. I just don't think we've been visited by them yet though! (Aylin doesn't count. 🤩)

can you drive a manual car?

Yes. Mom taught me how to drive in one... until the day I jammed on the accelerator when she said "Step on it" and I almost up-ended us into a ditch. Then I was sent to driving school instead. 🤣

what's your guilty pleasure?

Ooh. It's this bad boy here:

Sadly I've been over-indulging, so chocolate is now banned from the house for the foreseeable future. I'm still lusting after it though. Other guilty pleasures: I do like a good nightcap, so any (gluten grain-free) alcohol makes me light up – cognac, cabernet, sherry, sake, port... (But I don't always know my limits, so this is now banned too.) And a steamin', stonkin', trashy BL every now and then (bonus if there's a nice muscley actor for me to get all googly-eyed over – shoutout Gap Jakarin!). 😁🥰

tattoos?

I like art and have fanboyed over beautiful tattoos before – but I'm put off by the permanence of them, so I have none myself. Don't like the idea of not being able to change them much once they're inked in, because I will always be wanting to change things up if I were to get one. And no, even for looking at I prefer an uninked bod over an inked one. It takes a lot of work to get a body in shape, and I can't understand someone wanting to cover up the results of their hard work at the gym. 🤷‍♂️

favorite color?

A deep, rich blue most of the time. But when the mood hits, I like a bright, bold red too.

favorite type of music?

My tastes are a bit eclectic, leaning lighter and not challenging. Anything with a strong melodic line will get me hooked. Bonus points if the lyrics can come together with the melody to tell a story, and elevate it even more. So – pop mostly, but I also like R&B, soul, light jazz and the odd heartfelt country ballad or foot-stomper (go Queen Bey! 😍). Also like things with a nostalgic bent (I melt at Karen Carpenter, Seals & Croft, and England Dan & John Ford Coley). And then throw in a couple of show tunes in there for good measure! My YouTube playlist is all over the place – Sheila Majid, New Country, Renaissance, Nunew, Miley Cyrus, Streisand, Li'l Nas X, Ayumu Imazu, The Carpenters, Clean Bandit, so many others, all side-by-side.

do you like puzzles?

I love them, especially word and logic puzzles. I'm always shouting over Pat and Vanna. 🤣

any phobias?

Oddly, not the usual suspects, but I'm a bit phobic about birds. They're just creepy up close, even though I find them fascinating and beautiful with a bit of distance. While the bog-standard creepy-crawlies don't bother me one bit – I'm the one always getting called in to whack the roaches and chase away rodents. I dream of getting a cobalt blue tarantula as a pet (but that's not going to happen for various reasons, alas).

favorite childhood sport?

I wasn't that sporty growing up (classic bookworm) but I did enjoy a bit of soccer when I got to play. But I guess my favorite was probably swimming, though I didn't compete.

do you talk to yourself?

All the time. There's a nonstop monologue going on in my head and I've been known to startle people by accidentally voicing that conversation out loud. So I've learnt not to do it around others. 🤣 And no I'm not hearing disembodied voices; it's just me keeping myself company (plus I find it helps me focus my thoughts).

what movies do you adore?

My all-time favorite: Cinema Paradiso; it really pulls unabashedly at the heartstrings, but then again I'm a sentimental fool and love it all the more for that. That's also why I like Love Actually, especially the scene where the repressed Jamie (Colin Firth) travels to Portugal in order to confess his feelings to Aurélia (Lúcia Moniz), having realized he loves her despite the language barrier, and doggedly learnt Portuguese just to make his declaration – and then he finds out that she, lovelorn and bereft, learnt English just in case ("just in cases") he came back. 💖 And my second favorite is from the other end of the spectrum, actually quite a bit before my time as well: Hello Dolly! 😆 Don't judge... A couple of songs in there are really amazing – Love is Only Love and Just Leave Everything to Me especially (which are not in the stage version) are mindblowingly good. The former is almost pithy in its bare-boned purity, all about looking at love without sentimentality while reprising themes heard earlier on in the musical; the latter has the among the cleverest lyrics set to music I've ever heard:

Streisand is in fine fettle portraying a campier, more youthful incarnation of Dolly. Such a shame it was not better received. The costumes are spectacular too.

coffee or tea?

Coffee (or rather the caffeine it contains) is my drug of choice, and I drink buckets of it. But I like a good cuppa when I'm feeling nostalgic and/or sentimental, because tea is what I drank a lot of growing up – at my gran's there would be a perpetually-replenished, giant kettle of dark, bitterish Oolong on the sideboard for whenever you felt like some (which was often), while at home there was always a big pot of tea on the table in the morning, that would then be set to chill in the refrigerator after breakfast. I would always have an ice-cold milk tea with the papers when I got home from school, and it was my favorite daily ritual.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

A paleontologist – like a lot of kids I loved dinosaurs, and I can still rattle off the names of the more well-known ones (including every one in Jurassic Park 👀). But that got pushed aside for more practical considerations later. Still wish I'd explored my second childhood ambition more though, which was to be a writer/journalist. Maybe that's why I like posting so much on Tumblr! 😍

Onward tagging (too many people as usual, but no pressure to play if you don't want to or can't 🥰): @hughungrybear, @relativelydimensional, @neuroticbookworm, @wen-kexing-apologist, @waitmyturtles, @airenyah, @twig-tea, @solitaryandwandering, @recentadultburnout, @lurkingshan, @grapejuicegay,@bengiyo, @urikawa-miyuki, @pickletrip, @suni-san, @kattahj, @dimplesandfierceeyes, @7nessasaryevils, @imminentinertia, @befuddledcinnamonroll, @pandasmagorica, @nihilisticcondensedmilk,@shortpplfedup, @rokklagio, @thegalwhorants, @brazilian-whalien52, @callipigio, @respectthepetty, @corettaroosa, @colourme-feral, @virtualtadpole, @aroceu, @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas, @delesaria-blog, @dribs-and-drabbles, @inventedfangirling, @jiirotu, @visualtaehyun @happypotato48,@akawrites000, @kleopatras-cat, @dc-alves, @toschistation, @lovelyghostv

I've been tagged by others in various tag games over the past few weeks but have been too busy with work to be able to play. 😭 Not gonna post half-assed replies if I can help it, but then I'm always beset by dread thinking people might assume I'm ignoring them for whatever silly reason. But I just haven't had the time until now.

If you've tagged me and I've not responded, please know that I really wanted to but I just kept getting sidetracked by urgent deadlines. (In fact, my drafts folder is full of half-written tag game responses that are too far beyond their use-by date to ever see the light of day. 😮) So to any and all who see this, please accept my apology for not replying to your tags and invites, and if you'd like to play along with this one even if I haven't tagged you directly (and you have the time for it) – please do so! I'd love to read your responses! 😍

#tag game #get to know me tag

[ynscrazylife]

Jessss can I pls request a sort of angst fic but like one of the ‘how the avengers would react to...” lists with it being R being like a young avenger but like they get affected by some kinda chemical or weapon or something on a mission and is really sick and no one knows how they can help them bc it’s like alien tech or something that did it? I just think it’d hit a spot in my heart rn and there’s never anyone better to ask than youuuuuu bc you literally know the character’s so well everything always hits lmao

Sick Days 

Summary: The Avengers get worried after you get mysteriously sick from alien tech.

Author: You said a fic but you also said a “How the Avengers would react to” list so I wasn’t sure what to write, so I went with a fic. If this is not what you wanted, please let me know!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Being an Inhuman has never really been a problem for you before. It gave you some pretty cool powers and allowed you to join the Avengers team during the five year blip. S.W.O.R.D. had gotten word of when you accidentally activated your powers and, since they were still dealing with half of their agency being dusted, asked Natasha Romanoff if she could take the lead on this one and check it out. She found you, a young teenager at the time, frightened and confused. After realizing that you were an Inhuman, with Captain Marvel’s help, she explained to you what happened. It turned out - you had nowhere else to go, so Natasha ended up taking you in. She had a soft spot for you.

Long story short, once you got a little bit older, Natasha began training you in combat and allowed you to join the team. Once the blip was over and everyone returned, you met the others and were officially declared an Avenger. Despite being the only not-fully-human-person on the team (Thor had gone to the Guardians), you fit in perfectly. Everything was going smoothly.

That was . . . Until patrol one day. Where things took a turn.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You had been patrolling the streets of New York City for a little while now when the voice of Natasha chirped in your ear. Excited, you said, “Hey! Can I finish patrol early? There’s nothing really going on.” As much as you loved patrol, wintertime was nearing and you couldn’t exactly wear a coat with your suit, so you were getting rather cold.

Instead of a positive answer like you had hoped, Natasha chuckled. “Not just yet, kid. We actually just got a tip off from the NYPD. A break-in was reported at a nearby storage unit and none of their patrol cars are close. You’re actually the closest to the situation, it’s only two blocks away. Think you can check it out?” She asked.

Your desire for warmth was overshadowed by your curiosity and more-pressing desire to actually do something. “Who would break into a storage unit?” You asked, confused.

“That’s what you’re about to figure out. It’s two blocks to the east,” Natasha said.

“Alright. I’ll see you afterwards, then,” you replied.

With that, you turned to your right and began walking. Unfortunately, being Inhuman did not grant you super-speed powers. Instead, you had light powers.

You got there in no time. On the outside, everything looked fine. If you were just walking down the street and passing by (which a couple of people were), you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But you were no ordinary civilian. You managed to sneak inside and used your light powers to make yourself invisible. It was a large floor, with lots of storage units, but it was also quiet, so you took your time inspecting each and everyone.

Reaching the other side of the floor, you were about to report that it must have been a false alarm or something as you couldn’t find anything, when you rounded the corner only to spot a masked man lurking around an open storage unit. Spotting the broken lock on the floor, you knew that this had to be your guy.

Still invisible, you quietly sneaked up beside him, preparing yourself to show yourself and give the guy a chance to surrender, but wanting to stop him from being able to escape, too. Just as you inched close so you were right behind him, the man suddenly turned around and blasted you with the weapon he was holding.

This took you completely by surprise - there was no way for him to have known that you were there! You were flung into the air and hit the wall of another storage unit, before falling to the floor. “Hey!” You yelled as your invisibility disappeared and you struggled to sit up. The wind had been knocked out of you and your head was throbbing, but if there was anything to know about you, it was that you were relentless.

The guy broke off into a run, leaving the rest of the storage unit behind. You stumbled to your feet, trying to follow him, when a combined wave of dizziness and nausea pushed you against the wall. Your vision swarmed and your arms wrapped around your stomach, as you suddenly felt horrible. More sick than you had ever been in your life.

Whatever that guy had blasted you with - it had done something. Something bad.

As much as you tried to fight it, your body sank until you were curled up on the ground. Beads of sweat laced your forehead but you shivered at the same time. You had just the amount of strength to be able to press on your comms. “I need help,” you said, but it came out as a croak. “The guy surprised me. Blasted me with something. Please-”

You weren’t able to get anything else out as you fainted, your body succumbing to the attack of exhaustion, pain, and sickness.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Natasha heard your plea, the feeling of panic crashed into her. “Y/N?” She said when you stopped talking, already typing away at her computer to track your location. When she only heard static, she pursed her lips, frustrated. “Y/N, c’mon!”

“What’s going on?” Clint asked, poking his head into the living room as he had been walking by.

After finding your location and reading your stats provided by your suit, Natasha glanced up at Clint. Despite the hardened, blank look on her face, Clint could tell she was worried by the way she pinched her eyebrows and the frown tugging her lips down. He patiently waited for her to answer, his face growing solemn and more serious.

“Something happened to Y/N on patrol. You need to gather the team. I’m going to go get them,” Natasha said, rising from her seat and going to leave without another word.

As she passed him, Clint gently grabbed her arm. “I’m sure no matter what happened, the kid will be okay,” he said, wanting to provide some comfort. He shared her worry - heck, everyone would, they all adored you - but was able to be more calm about it. A skill he had developed as a dad to four children.

Natasha forced a smile. “I hope so,” she said, and gave her best friend’s hand a small squeeze before leaving to suit up. She couldn’t afford to waste any time.

When she left, Clint had F.R.I.D.A.Y call the team down to the living room. It took a couple minutes, as they were all in various parts of the building, but eventually everyone was gathered. Clint refused to tell anyone the purpose of this impromptu meeting until everyone was there, which was a little frustrating for people.

(People as in Tony)

“Will you just tell us already, Legolas?!” The billionaire exclaimed, as he and the others stood watching Clint pace back and forth, occasionally checking his phone in case Natasha had texted any update.

Finally, seeing Wanda and Vision walk in, who were the last to arrive, the archer explained. Shooting Tony a glare, he said, “Something happened to Y/N on patrol,” he repeated the words Natasha told him. “We’re not sure what, but Nat’s going to find out.”

Everyone’s faces softened. “Something happened? Like an injury?” Wanda inquired, frowning.

Clint glanced over at Natasha’s computer, which still displayed your stats. “Maybe . . .” he trailed off, his eyes catching something on the screen. “Wait - it looks like they’re sick or something. See? Y/N has a high fever.” The rest crowded around him.

As they all watched the screen, Bruce said, “I’ll go get the medical bay set up. Dr. Cho should still be here,” before briskly exiting the room.

“Y/N displayed no signs of illness this morning. In fact, they seemed to be quite well and excited for patrol,” Vision noted.

“They did say they were blasted with something,” Clint murmured, trying to connect the dots.

His phone’s ringtone interrupted the team and Clint scrambled to answer the call. Seeing that it was Natasha, he put it on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

“Y/N’s sick. It’s bad. They’ve already thrown up on our way back and I’m carrying them,” Natasha rushed out almost as soon as Clint accepted the call. They could all hear her controlled breaths as she was walking as quickly as she could.

“Bruce has gone to get med set up for when you arrive,” Steve said.

Remembering how you sounded on comms, Clint asked, “Is Y/N conscious?”

“They’ve been slipping in and out for now. They were passed out when I found them,” Natasha answered.

The team exchanged looks of worry. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” Tony tried to answer confidently, but his concern overshadowed his tone a bit.

Minutes later Natasha had burst into the tower, you still in her arms. She made a beeline for medical and the rest of the team were hot on her heels. As Natasha had said, you were definitely awake, but unaware of your surroundings nor the state you were in. You were still sweating and shivering profusely and would occasionally mumble something incomprehensible or let out small whines of pain. It broke everyone’s hearts to see you like this - if not for the pressing danger, they weren’t sure they could stand it.

Once at medical, Natasha gently laid you down on a bed where Dr. Cho quickly got to work. The Avengers were allowed to stay in the room (they surely would have put up a fit if not), but needed to stay back so Dr. Cho could work. They all watched as she hooked you up to monitors and assessed you. 

“Y/N’s defiantly gotten very sick quite quickly,” Dr. Cho confirmed as she worked. 

“It must be that damn blast,” Natasha muttered. “We need to figure out what that was.”

“I can get the storage unit’s company to send us the security cam footage,” Tony offered, but didn’t wait for a response before dashing out. 

“Can someone get some cool compresses? We need to bring their temperature down, it’s dangerously high,” Dr. Cho requested as she set up an IV. 

Sam and Wanda immediately complied, rushing to get the compresses. They returned and draped them on your forehead, neck, arms, anywhere they could. Up close, they could see how pale and fragile you really were, eyes half-closed. It was scary. 

“I’ve given them an IV with fluids and medicine,” Dr. Cho said, letting out a huff. “That and cool compresses is all we can really do for now except to continue monitoring them.” With a gesture of her hand, the Avengers all flocked around you, drawing up chairs to sit. No one wanted to leave your side. “Let me know if their condition changes.” Dr. Cho smiled sweetly at them before leaving and letting them have some privacy. 

No one said anything for a little while, stewing in their concern as they watched you. You had fallen asleep, but it didn’t seem restful, with your pinched eyebrows and scrunched up nose. Wanda continued to dab your forehead with the compass while Steve and Sam would occasionally go to get more. 

After some time, you woke up a bit and let out a whine. “What is it, hon?” Wanda asked softly.

“It’s cold . . . Can I have a blanket?” you croaked, voice hoarse. You squirmed a bit, pouting. 

“I’m sorry, darling, you can’t. We need to get your fever down,” Natasha explained. 

Tears at how awful you felt came to your eyes. You curled up on the bed. “Please . . .” you said. 

This shattered everyone. Natasha frowned, gently petting your hair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

You moaned before letting out a few coughs that shook your entire body. Clint went to grab you a glass of water while Steve glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t the IV and meds have kicked in by now?” He whispered. 

Clint helped you drink some small sips of the water while Vision answered, “yes, it should’ve.” 

Everyone looked around. “I’ll get Dr. Cho,” Sam decided, keeping his voice low so as to not disturb you. 

A couple minutes later, he came back with the doctor in tow. You were still curled up, looking miserable. “Hi, Y/N,” Dr. Cho said. “How are you feeling?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but still wanted to ask. 

“Hot and cold at the same time . . . My head, throat, and stomach hurts,” you said, voice so small that the others had to strain to understand you. 

Dr. Cho nodded and looked over the monitors, frowning. “The meds should have kicked in by now,” she muttered. 

Everyone felt defeated and even more worried. What the hell had you been blasted with?! 

“Maybe a bath might help? My mom always had us take warm baths when Pietro or I got sick,” Wanda suggested. 

The rest nodded. At least it was something. “You feeling up for that?” Natasha cooed, seeing how tired you were. 

“I want to try,” you mumbled, trying to sit up. 

Natasha and Wanda helped you. They wrapped wrapped one of your arms around them and one of their arms around you, half-carrying, half-leading you to the bathroom. Clint followed behind to be able to open the door. 

You leaned against the wall, supported by Natasha, while Wanda started the bath and Clint returned to the rest. The redhead had to keep you from dozing off a few times which worried her a bit about leaving you alone. When the bath was ready, Natasha said, “We’ll check on you every ten minutes or so, okay?” 

You nodded, although it was a small nod so as to not aggravate your headache. Wanda and Natasha then left you alone, walking back to the medical bay. When they returned, they saw that Tony had come back, too. 

“Did you find anything?” Natasha asked anxiously as she and Wanda resumed their seats.

“There was nothing much the footage could tell us,” Tony admitted, standing in front of the team and Dr. Cho. “We saw Y/N using their powers to make themselves invisible, but it seemed like the guy who attacked them knew that or something because he turned around and blasted them while they were invisible. I’ve talked with S.H.I.E.L.D. about it - Fury says it might have something to do with Y/N being an inhuman.” 

This got everyone’s attention. You being an Inhuman had never interfered with anything before, so what was the problem now? “Fury had some of his agents look at the rest of the tech and stuff from the storage unit the guy had been lurking in. Apparently - it’s all tech that belongs to the Kree. It would make sense why it’s effecting Y/N, since the Kree sorta invented the Inhumans. He’s contacting Carol now to see if she might know anything about it,” Tony continued, and then grabbed a chair and sat down while everyone processed this. 

“Let’s hope she does,” Bruce said, receiving murmurs of agreement. 

They sat around until the ten minute mark hit, when Natasha went to check on you. She returned a couple minutes later, her arm wrapped around you. You looked quite sleepy, and the Avengers would of aw’ed if you weren’t so sick. Your hair was still damp but you were wearing Avengers-themed pajamas.

“They fell asleep in the bath,” Natasha told the team, before helping you get situated back in bed. 

Seeing as the sickness wouldn’t be contagious if it was indeed an Inhuman once, a couple of the Avengers gladly cuddled you, wanting to prove some comfort. Really, they all would’ve, if the bed had been big enough. Natasha and Wanda laid down on either side of you and Clint sat at the end of your bed. 

Natasha pet your hair while Wanda simply had her arms wrapped around you. Sam was waiting with a glass in his hand in case you got thirsty. When you dozed off for a little bit, Tony couldn’t help but snap a picture. “Sorry, they’re adorable,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all and shrugged.

After waiting with you, Carol drew everyone out of their thoughts by walking in. She was wearing her usual suit, but held a vial in her hands. 

Hearing her footsteps roused you and when you could make out the blonde, you smiled. “Carol!” You said, having missed her. 

Carol smiled warmly at you. If there was anyone who could break the space captain’s tough exterior, it was you. “Hey, little one,” she greeted. “Long time, no see. I’ve got something for you that will help.” She handed Natasha the vial. “It’s the cure to your sickness. The sickness was invented by the Kree to infect the Inhumans. From what I can gather, the guy was a Kree man who had a device on him that could detect Inhumans - that’s how he knew you were there.” 

“Interesting,” Steve mused, as Natasha handed you the vial. 

Not caring about how bad it might taste and just wanting to feel better, you gladly drank the entirety of the vial in just a couple gulps. 

“It’ll make you quite sleepy, but-” Carol cut herself off as your eyes quickly fluttered shut and you fell into a deep sleep, head falling against Natasha’s shoulders. “They’ll wake up in a few hours feeling better.” 

She turned around to grab a chair. “You’re staying?” Sam asked, as they watched her. 

“Of course,” Carol said, scoffing as she sat down. She looked at the Avengers. “What, is anyone planning on leaving?” 

They all smiled at each other as a series of “no’s” went around. They were more than happy to sit with you and comfort you. 

“That’s what I thought,” Carol said proudly, smiling. 

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[nekoannie-chan]

We can learn to love again

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 684 words.

Summary: After separating for a few years to flee the Accords, you and Steve see each other again.

Warnings: Angst, but happy ending.

A/N: This is my entry to @caplanbuckybarnes’ Cappy’s Decade Challenge with the song ‘10s:

“Just give me a reason – P!nk”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989

You left the glass on the table when you heard the doorbell ring. No one used to visit you apart from the neighbor, who was an old lady. Your eyes widened very wide at the sight of who was outside.

"Steve?!" You exclaimed in surprise.

It's been a long time. I'm sorry. "I need to get in," he said, as he quickly passed inside.

"How do you find me?" You asked, you couldn't believe it. You hoped it wasn't a dream.

"It was simple. Do you know what happened? "

"No, I haven't been here all day." You replied by shaking your head at the same time.

Does anyone know? He didn't dare finish the question. If there was anyone else in your life, he would just leave. He wasn't going to stop you from being happy.

If you mean, if I'm in a relationship, I'm not. What do you mean by "what happened ?" You answered quickly. However, you were more interested in knowing what happened; you didn't even hear the news.

"Thanos eliminated half of the living things."

"What? Is that possible? By the way who is Thanos?" you asked. Since you separated, you had not done a single mission. You spent the first few weeks escaping until you found that place.

"The only good thing is that somehow you exempted us from... well, you know, what happened."

"Are we free? Do we no longer have to hide? "

"We are free. We can go home. "

"To our house?"

"Yes, well, if you want..."

"I have to pack my bags and you will carry them. And I will also let my neighbor know; she is very kind to me and I don't want her to worry. "

The entire journey back was deafeningly quiet. It had been two years since the last time you saw each other. You had to separate because of what happened in the Civil War. You knew it was very dangerous to be together, especially as fugitives. In addition to discovering that your neighbor had been one of the victims of the Snap, you chose to also take your pets. You would never allow anything to happen to them. You would take care of them as she had taken care of you.

However, what you did not know is that Steve was always taking care of you, even if it was from afar. He was not going to allow anything bad to happen to you, coupled with the fact that he was aware of the danger you were in if someone came to see them together, and he was not willing to take you to the raft because of him.

Your farewell had not been the most romantic; you had implicitly made a promise that you would be back together when you could when conditions were favourable.

You didn't know how to ask him if he had decided to go on and rebuild his life. You didn't even know what happened to the others.

When you arrived, you stood on the sidewalk. You didn't dare enter. You didn't know what you were going to find in there... maybe Steve... maybe there was someone else.

"Are you okay?" "Steve asked you with concern."

"I don't know. Should I come in? Is there anything else you should tell me? " You inquired cautiously. Steve watched you and then understood what you meant.

Let's go in. "There's nothing else, other than to tell you that I love you and I want us to make up for all the time we've lost, all that time we couldn't be together," he replied, holding your hand to guide you to the entrance of what had been his house.

Everything was the same as you had left it when you had to flee. I didn't even know how it had been preserved in that way during all that time. Several times, you wondered what your lives would be like if the Accords had never existed. You sighed. Maybe Steve was right, and you could get back everything you lost.

"Steve, I missed you."

#cappysdecadeschallenge #Steve rogers x reader #Youtube

[krenenbaker]

Under the Moonlight

Pairing: Malleus x Jade

Summary: Malleus and Jade, meeting under the moonlight.

Notes: This is for the sixth day's prompt ("Under the Moonlight") of the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. This little piece is partially based on this post (which I have been thinking about since I first saw it!!), and my need for more MalleJade content in this fandom. This one's for you, Quinn! ♡

Tags: @haruhar-u, @cheezy-moon, @thehollowwriter, @red-viewe and @shortstorylover

Please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations.

It's become their routine, meeting under the moonlight.

It isn't that their relationship is exactly secret; those who know, know. Malleus and Jade don't feel the need to proclaim it to the world, but they also don't feel any need to hide it. Their nighttime walks, their dates under the stars are simply what they prefer.

It's how their relationship started, meeting under the moonlight.

Both had a habit of spending time around the school after the sun had set. Wandering alone, observing the world as it slowed down. Until one evening, they met. And from then on, they began wandering together instead.

They made their own world, meeting under the moonlight.

The dark is comforting. The cold, familiar to them both. And the silence of the night envelops them, making the otherwise busy campus into their own private world. The stars, the wind, the moon, and each other as their only company.

They learned from each other, meeting under the moonlight.

The world becoming illuminated in new ways with every conversation. Sharing their interests and passions, pointing out a feature the other would have never noticed otherwise. Learning to see their surroundings through the other's eyes; the littlest plants, and the tiniest details in gargoyles. Eventually, they learned about each other, too, becoming drawn closer together with each starry night.

And they found love, Jade and Malleus, meeting under the moonlight.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst rarepair halloween #rarepair halloween #malleus draconia #jade leech #malleus x jade #jade x malleus #MalleJade #JadeMal #<- is that their other ship name? idk #krenenbaker's :) #krenenbaker's creations #and now... for the ramble-y tags #I love this ship so much (*´◡`*) #the few fics that exist of it... they've really planted this ship into my brain #also... I'm a couple days behind on the prompts #but I'm going to come back to the ones I've missed - they're both currently in progress #and should be posted in the next few days :)

[digital-chance]

writeblr intro

hey i'm chance! i've done a writeblr intro recently but i didn't like it, so this is take 2. here's the old one.

─── about me -⋆⋅☆

name : chance

pronouns : they/he

likes : cyberpunk, romance, anime, kpop, music, history, design

age : 20

i tend to swear both on here and in my writing, so if you're sensitive to that, i don't think my blog or work is for you. i also use the word 'queer' a lot since i self-identify as such, when i do choose to self-identify.

i'm interested in so much, which would be impossible to fully state. there are so many new things out there and i love learning about them all!! this blog is mainly for writing but i'm not strict on that.

i also am pretty sure i'm neurodivergent (no diagnosis or anything yet) and tend to delve into hyper-fixations for weeks at a time. if i haven't posted for a while, it's probably because of one of my other hyper-fixations or school.

i'm going to college for my bachelor's in graphic design, which might make my responses during the school year delayed.

i'm always open to ask or tag games!! it might take me a few to respond but i'll respond.

─── writing -⋆⋅☆

you'll find a lot of diverse characters, the found/chosen family trope, romance or rom-com, angst, and references to actual history or historical events within my work. sometimes i throw in a little art fact since i'm an art student. in nearly every one of my works you can find a prominent lgbtq+ character, too.

i write for original works and fanfiction alike. i often alternate what project i'm writing on and tend to leave wips unfinished. there's no one specific fandom that i'm in since i tend to dabble in everything.

i enjoy reading all sorts of stories, but some of the tropes and genres that have a special place in my heart include:

[ genres : romance . action . sci-fi . dystopian . heists . cyberpunk . horror . comedy . mystery ] [ tropes : friends to lovers , enemies to lovers , fake/pretend relationship , college au , coffee shop au , domestic , fluff , angst ]

─── ⋆ looking for ⋆⋅☆

more writers to follow!

good vibes & friends

writing advice & critique buddies (will help critique ur work too)

─── works in progress -⋆⋅☆

nova futurum | original work | #wip: nova futurum

─── ⋆ status : brainstorming

a lgbtq+ mafia cyberpunk story with the working title "Nova Futurum." i've got the general information down and i'm currently working on fleshing out my main characters. for now it's in the very basic stages, but feel free to ask me about it or give any tips!

you still would've been mine | fanfiction | #wip: yswbm

─── ⋆ status : outlining, research, & writing draft 1

Steven "Steve" Rogers wakes up in the 21st century after crashing into the ice in 1942, leaving behind his life as the mascot of the USA along with his childhood in Brooklyn NYC. The Winter Soldier, a man left behind in the war recovers his memories as the man known as James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes after meeting Steve in the modern time. Steve and Bucky recall their childhood and their experience in the war as they recover.

matchbreakers | original work | #wip: match

─── ⋆ status : brainstorming

xavier works at match breakers. instead of setting people up on blind dates, he goes to dates and breaks up the couple. all sorts of people hire him, disapproving parents, jealous ex's, and those scared to see their ex's angry side. what he doesn't expect is falling in love with one of his own clients.

scars of duty | original work | #wip: sod

─── ⋆ status : plotting

Lucian is a hero who protects the city of Haines and the other members of his hero's league. They're a small-name hero just trying to make do with what they've got. A villain new to the city shows up and shakes Lucian’s perception of their own superpowers and the world.

< tag lists: if you'd like to be added for any project, let me know. i'm not the greatest at remembering the tag list but i will try! >

─── ⋆ more of my socials & my design portfolio

#writeblr intro #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing community #writeblr search #writeblr introduction #author intro #reintroduction #writeblr reintro #graphic design #matchbox twenty #wip: nova futurum #wip: yswbm #masterlist #masterpost #pinned post #pinned #intro #writerblr #writeblr community

[blackbloodteeth]

March of Madness – Fandom Creative Event!!

Welcome to the first event (possibly of its kind) of March of Madness – A reverse-exchange challenge of sorts where you create writing or art for a randomly selected idea! Why an idea of mine, you may ask? Well, I come up with too many all of the time and I figured it would be a fun challenge to see what other people do with them haha, plus it's a fun way to put more of that sweet delicious Soul Eater content out into the world.

Do note, as I am the funny Soul Evans multiverse man, that these ideas will be largely Soul-centric. There may be other characters present of course (and you can opt-out of Soul x Maka related ideas in the sign-up form), but Soul will almost always be an integral part of these ideas. Who knows, maybe you can get some practice in with his character if you haven't been as familiar.

Now, the rules are this:

After the sign-up period has ended, you will receive a randomly selected idea (with your given preferences kept in mind) to secretly work on for all of March, with posting starting in April. You still have time to work on it for the rest of April, but if you aren't finished by the start of May then you will become an after-party entry (which will still be able to be shared, just make sure to contact me haha). ---

Writers will have a word count minimum of 1,500 words to complete their fics (as that is about my one-shot average). Artists will need to complete a coherent-looking piece of art that clearly conveys the idea, however if you don't want to work alone, you may choose to collaborate with a writer and create art for the same idea that they're working on (either may opt-in for collabing in the sign-up form). ---

While creative interpretations and liberties are freely allowed to express your vision of the idea, you will need to at least stick to the bare bones of the given premise in spirit of the event. If you find you need a new idea if yours isn't working for you (or you'd like to write more than one as a small collection), you are allowed to reroll for a new idea, however please make sure to communicate this change with your partner if you have one (as well as communicating with me if you feel you need to drop out of the event or such). ---

As these ideas aren't really made with suggestive content in mind, I would prefer that event creations don't contain any explicit content. Please remember to tag/mark your posts if they happen to contain blood/gore, body horror, death, etc.

Sign-ups last from February 18th to 29th!

Once posting starts I will reblog all event creations with the "Soul Eater March Madness 2024" tag, and add any fics posted to AO3 in a March of Madness collection that were okay with being added.

This event is mostly just for fun, so don't sweat it if you find yourself too busy or lacking energy for a good chunk of it. Either way I'm looking forward to seeing how the event will go!

#soul eater #Soul Eater March Madness 2024